Cowboys Are For Loving Page 11

  If he wasn’t human, he wouldn’t be aching for her like this. He waved a hand at her, dismissing her words, losing whatever shreds of patience he had left.

  “All right, don’t tell me. Makes no difference to me. I was just trying to be sociable.”

  She laughed as she sat down opposite him. “That’ll be the day.” There was no secret to what she had been doing. She was more than happy to share it with him. “I stayed up developing the photographs I took at the party.”

  “What’s the hurry?” She hadn’t yet developed any of the photographs she’d taken earlier in the week. He knew her. If she’d developed them, she would have buttonholed him and shown the photographs to him.

  He knew her.

  The phrase played along his brain, taunting him. Numbing him with its implication. He didn’t want to know her. He wanted to remain strangers. You never thought about strangers once they left.

  Brianne wondered what was behind Kent’s strange expression, but said nothing. She wasn’t in the mood for a sparring match first thing in the morning. She was much too tired today.

  “I thought it might make a nice present for Hank and Fiona,” she explained. “A souvenir of their first party together.”

  “You did that for them?” The thoughtfulness surprised him. “Why?”

  There he went again, sounding suspicious. “Because they’re nice people. And I’m nice people. And that’s what nice people do.”

  She blew out a breath, holding her mug between her hands. Her head ached from too much punch and her body ached from lack of sleep. Even more, it ached from lack of loving. His loving. No man had ever affected her this way before. He provoked her and made her happy all at the same time. Most of all, he confused her. She felt her nerves pulling taut.

  “Why are you always so suspicious of everything?” she demanded. She was tired of having everything she said pulled apart and examined for a hidden agenda, a covert meaning.

  The edginess in her voice surprised him. She usually faced his questions with amusement. “Not everything.”

  “Just me.” It was the only logical conclusion.

  His eyes met hers as he drank the last of the coffee. He was going to need a second cup if he was going to get through the morning with her. “Just you.”

  “Why?”

  Kent took his time answering. He poured himself a second mugful. “I thought you didn’t like that question.”

  He was deliberately trying to provoke her. The headache grew more intense. “Only when it’s aimed at me like the barrel of a Colt .45.”

  “Nobody uses those anymore,” he informed her carelessly, enjoying himself. She didn’t usually get rattled. Nice to see her true colors.

  Brianne didn’t care if people around here shot cannons at each other. He was deliberately being evasive. “Don’t change the subject.”

  Kent tried his best to mimic the innocent look she always gave him. “Was there a subject?”

  She knew what he was doing and she didn’t appreciate it. “Yes, your ornery treatment of me.”

  Their eyes met and then he disarmed her completely by allowing a hint of a smile to twist his lips. “Ornery, huh? I don’t seem to remember you complaining when we went off together last night.”

  Was he actually referring to it fondly? Maybe he was finally coming around. “Neither did you,” Brianne pointed out.

  “No, I didn’t. Wasn’t anything to complain about,” he said matter-of-factly. He might have been talking about a successful roundup of the calves, until he added, “When you’re not moving those lips too fast, they can be pretty sweet.”

  Lack of sleep made her take offense at the first part of his statement rather than comfort from the second half. “I need more coffee.”

  Kent raised his eyes from his plate. “What you need,” he said firmly, “is sleep.”

  She couldn’t really argue with that. “I’ll turn in early tonight.”

  It became a contest of wills. “You’ll turn in now.”

  Surprised, Brianne turned around. “I’m going with you.”

  Didn’t this woman have a lick of sense in that head of hers? “No, you’re not. If I thought you were a liability before, that goes double now.”

  One hand on her hip, Brianne narrowed her eyes. So much for thinking she’d made any headway at all with this Neanderthal in leather boots and worn jeans. “Since you were wrong before, does that go double now?”

  He struggled not to raise his voice. “I’m not having you fall off your horse.”

  Was that his way of saying he was worried about her? “Don’t worry, I won’t sue you.”

  “No, but you’ll slow me down.”

  She might have known. He wasn’t worried about her, he was worried about his damn schedule. “Nice to know you’re concerned.”

  Forgetting himself, Kent took hold of her shoulders. He was sorely tempted to give her a good shake. Something had to rattle that brain of hers into place. “Yeah, I’m concerned. Damn concerned.”

  Her chin shot up. “About the ranch.”

  Her chin made a hell of a good target. He restrained himself. “I already told you that.” Kent paused, knowing he would regret this. But it came out just the same. “And about you.” He loosened his hold and slid his hands down along her arms.

  Brianne stared at him, afraid to allow herself to believe he was saying what she thought he was saying. What she wanted him to say. “Me?”

  Impatient with himself for not holding his ground, Kent gestured about the empty kitchen. “Do you see anyone else in this room I could be talking to?”

  Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. The headache was still there, but Brianne hardly noticed. “No.”

  His face was completely devoid of expression. “Then it’s you.”

  She needed this spelled out, not because she was trying to be difficult, but because she really wanted to be sure. “Let me get this straight You’re afraid I’ll hurt myself?”

  Kent had never liked having his back to the wall. Never liked being pinned down. “Woman, you’re making a production out of this. Just stay out of my way and stay home. You can take all the pictures you want tomorrow when I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder to make sure the cattle haven’t trampled you.”

  Miraculously, the fog was lifting from her brain. Holding up one hand, she ticked off reasons why she didn’t have to remain behind, other than the fact that she refused to.

  “A, you’re not going on a cattle drive so we’re not talking about a lot of cattle. B, I can stay up two, three days running if I have to. I’ve done it before. And C, this is a free country and I can do whatever I want to.”

  Kent was willing to bet that if Brianne had been Daniel Webster, the devil wouldn’t have lasted three acts before he was defeated. He would have run screaming from the courtroom once she wound herself up.

  “The country may be free,” he agreed tersely, “but the ranch is private. What I say here, goes. Check.”

  Oh, no, the game wasn’t over that easily. “It’s in your father’s name. What he says, goes. Checkmate.”

  He fought hard to hold on to his temper. Unleashing it had never solved anything—even if it might make him feel good for the moment. “Damn it, you are the most stubborn woman God ever created.”

  “I have to be,” she countered, though she was smiling when she said it, “to put up with you.”

  Put up with him? He was the one putting up with her, not the other way around. “Well, that won’t be for much longer.”

  “No, it won’t,” she agreed, ignoring the sharp pinch of sadness she felt. “Now eat your damn breakfast so we can get on with it.”

  He eyed the plate. He’d only eaten half, even though it was good. Talking about her leaving had inexplicably taken away his appetite. “You don’t have to keep sneaking in here and cooking breakfast for me, you know.”

  “I don’t sneak.” She rinsed off her own plate. “And what’s the matter, afraid you’ll get u
sed to it?”

  “Yeah.”

  His answer caught her off guard. She turned around to make sure she’d heard right. “What?”

  Kent hadn’t meant to say that. It had just slipped out. “I said I’m finished.” He rose, abandoning his plate. He waited, knowing that she’d pick it up. “Let’s go.”

  Quickly, she threw away the remains and rinsed off his dish. “Never give an inch, do you?” The plate clinked into place beside hers on the draining rack.

  “Not unless it’s cut out of me.”

  “Then you’re safe.” She fell into step beside him. “I don’t cut.”

  “Yeah, you do.” The mark she left on him threatened to go deeper than any knife wound. Their eyes met. “Get your hat. It’s going to be a hot one today.”

  As if it’d been anything else these last few days. “Nice to know we’re in for a change,” she quipped.

  He watched her walk ahead of him, his attention momentarily diverted by the rhythmic sway of her hips. “Not hardly,” he murmured.

  The morning seemed endless. The sun was high in the sky when Kent finally stepped back, and the last of the calves they’d rounded up today was led away. He was through branding for the day.

  He caught a glimpse of Brianne’s face. She looked pale. He knew he shouldn’t have let her come along. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She wiped her forehead with the back of the glove she had on. Her expression softened slightly when she looked at him. “Thanks for asking.”

  He looked to see if any of the men had overheard, but they all seemed to be otherwise occupied. “Don’t want you to spook the cattle when you fall off your horse.”

  She merely laughed. “You warm my heart, Kent.”

  He was already turning his hand to the next chore. “Wasn’t my intention.”

  No, she thought, packing up her camera again, it probably wasn’t.

  But it’d happened just the same.

  9

  “Brianne, I want you to go back with John.”

  Brianne looked at Kent in surprise. They’d been out on the range all day and were just about to head back home. One of the men, Jack Russell, was about to take the plunge and get married this Sunday. That was just two days away and his friends were giving him one last taste of bachelorhood tonight at Serendipity’s only saloon, appropriately named the Last Chance. Everyone was anxious to get back and put the dust of the day behind them.

  Just before they mounted up, one of the men had taken Kent aside. The conversation was brief. She had no doubt that was Kent’s doing. While the men all seemed inclined to drawl and lengthen any story they told, Kent’s conversational style was spartan. It was as if each word he traded with someone came from his private stock and he didn’t want to deplete it.

  When the man had pointed off toward the horizon, Kent nodded. The next moment, he was returning for his horse. Curious, Brianne waited until he was within a few feet of her before she attempted to fire off any questions at him.

  She didn’t get the chance. He beat her at her own game and issued the thinly veiled order for her to leave with one of the older hands.

  Brianne looked over her shoulder at John. The man looked uncomfortable about being caught in the middle. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked Kent.

  Kent checked the condition of his saddlebags. He’d packed nonperishables earlier in the week, just in case. He’d learned a long time ago that you had to be prepared for anything out here. He scarcely spared her a look.

  “No.”

  The man was a font of information. Brianne tried to pin him down. “Where are you going?”

  Kent still didn’t care to be questioned, but he supposed it did no harm to tell her. He tightened the ties holding his bedroll in place.

  “Some of the calves have strayed off from the main herd.” He nodded toward one of the cowboys he’d been talking to. “Simms just did a count. I’m going to go look for them.”

  It sounded reasonable enough to her. Brianne picked up her reins. “All right, let’s get started.”

  Where had she gotten the idea that she was coming along? He’d just told her to go home. Kent caught Brianne’s hand before she could mount her horse. “I’m not going on a picnic, woman.”

  Were they going to have this fight again? Brianne had thought by now they’d reached an understanding about the nature of her involvement. Apparently not.

  “That’s good,” she replied, just as sarcastically, “because I didn’t pack a picnic lunch.”

  “You’re not going,” he insisted with a note of finality that would have made any of his men back away. All it seemed to do was spur Brianne on. “I might be out the better part of the night.”

  Why would he think that would put her off? Brianne wondered. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

  He bit back a curse. “You don’t have enough sense to be afraid of anything.”

  She looked Kent square in the eye, knowing it irritated him. The fact that some of the hands were looking on didn’t make her back off. She’d gotten to know most of them and felt as if she’d even struck up a few friendships.

  “Oh, I’m afraid of things, Kent. Just not the dark.” Her eyes met his. “Or you. Now, do I come with you, or do I trail behind? Because one way or another, I am going.”

  He’d let her come to the brandings, let her follow him around like a damn shadow when they mended fences and herded the cattle. What more did she want from him? When was she going to be satisfied?

  “Why the hell would you want to go?” he demanded.

  He still didn’t get it, did he? Brianne thought. “Because I’m recording everything that has to do with ranching and looking for strays is part of it.”

  Kent was going alone and he didn’t want her tagging along after him. Not because it was particularly dangerous or even because it was boring, but because he didn’t want to spend that much time alone with her. It was hard enough just having her near him day after day with the men around.

  Exasperated, he checked his rifle. He’d heard there’d been mountain lion sightings and he wasn’t going to take any chances. “Didn’t any of those other guys you haunted go looking for strays?”

  Brianne looked up at him serenely. “They never lost any.”

  He made a comment that she knew she could never quote in her article. John, still standing beside her like an awkward appendage, cleared his throat and slanted a glance in her direction to see her reaction. Brianne merely laughed at the expletive. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

  Strangling her in front of so many witnesses was a bad idea, even if they were his own men. Disgusted, Kent turned away and put his foot in the stirrup. “John, take her to my parents’ house, even if you have to tie her up and sling her over the saddle to do it.”

  John exchanged glances with some of the men close enough to hear, then looked uncertainly at Brianne. She was smiling at him, but any fool could see that there was an edge to the smile.

  “Touch me, John,” she warned, still smiling, “and you’ll live to regret it.”

  That was enough for him. John raised his hands in complete surrender, not doubting her threat for a moment. Backing away, he looked at Kent. “Not me, boss. Uh-uh. I’d rather ride bareback on Ol’ Blue,” he swore, referring to the prize Black Angus bull they’d recently purchased for breeding.

  Brianne grinned. “Sounds interesting. Which of you would be bareback?” To her delight, she actually saw John’s face turn as red as the bandanna that was hanging out of his back pocket.

  Several of the men laughed at the thought of John, whose physique resembled a tall telephone pole, buck naked. Some things, Kent thought, were best left unexplored.

  Meanwhile, they were losing daylight.

  “Never mind,” Kent told her, giving up. “If you’re coming, come on. Otherwise, head back with John.”

  “I’m coming.” As far as she was concerned, there’d never been any doubt.

  Brianne swung into h
er saddle with a grace Kent had to grudgingly admire. She got under his skin almost constantly, for more reasons than he cared to consider, but there was no denying that the lady sat a horse as pretty as poetry.

  Without saying a word to her, he pressed his heels against Whiskey and turned the horse toward the north. Brianne turned her horse to follow, urging the animal on quickly in order to catch up. She knew Kent would make no allowances for her. No doubt, if she fell into a snake pit, he’d just keep right on going without breaking stride.

  By the time she drew up alongside him, she realized that there were just the two of them going after the strays. “Why aren’t you taking anyone else with you?”

  Why did she have to question everything? He was tired of explaining his every movement to her. “Because they’re all heading into town. Russell’s getting married come Sunday and they’re throwing him a bachelor party.”

  She already knew that. Jack Russell and Kent were as close as Kent allowed himself to be with anyone. Why wasn’t he going? “Aren’t you invited to the party?”

  Kent squinted, trying to make out something in the distance. He muttered under his breath when he realized it was just a rock formation. He might have known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “Yeah, I was invited to the party.”

  Brianne heard annoyance framing each word. “But you’re not going.” It wasn’t a question.

  Turning Whiskey in a more northwesterly direction, he didn’t bother looking in her direction. “I told you before, I don’t like crowds.”

  His feelings about crowds had nothing to do with it. Crowds were people you didn’t know. “But these are your hands.” She studied his stony profile when he made no comment. “You’d go to that party if it weren’t for the missing calves, wouldn’t you?”

  “Don’t you ever run out of questions?”

  She pretended to think that over, then said brightly, “No.”

  “Well, I’m out of answers.”

  She shrugged. “You don’t have to answer, I know the answer already.”