Rachel's Rescuer. Roxann Delaney
hope the weather cleared, and she and the boy could be on their way.
While they finished breakfast, she kept busy. His gaze slid over her slender body as she turned on the faucet and started running a sink full of soapy water. Her jeans stretched tight across her hips and bottom, causing his mouth to go dry. He’d dare anyone to guess she had carried a child with hips that slim. The thought crossed his mind that the boy might not be hers, but after a glance at Cody, he knew better. The youngster might not have those same blue eyes, but the mouth was wide and full like hers.
Reminding himself that women, slim-hipped or full-hipped, were nothing but trouble, he watched her for a reaction to his next question. “You have out-of-state plates. Where are you from?”
She stiffened slightly, and her hand, reaching for the griddle on the stove, stopped midway. “Ohio,” she answered. “Cincinnati, to be exact.” She grabbed the pan and plopped it into the water. “We have snow there, too.”
“Not like this, I’ll bet,” he thought out loud.
She turned, offering him a weak smile. “No, nothing like this. And not nearly so early in the year. I never expected anything like this.”
He could see that much was the truth. “Early for here, too. First measurable snowfall usually isn’t until later in September.”
“Does that mean more work with the animals?” she asked, her back to them once again.
“We’ll have to take some hay bales out to the herd.”
“Is it a large herd?” Rachel asked.
“Large enough to keep us busy,” Lucas answered, his long-sleeping hormones awakening. Every time she scrubbed at the pan she was washing, her hips swayed from side to side. He wanted to tell her to put the damn pan down. He wanted to grab her and turn her around, look into her eyes, and demand she tell him the truth.
Only he didn’t want to know the truth, he reminded himself.
“Jenny and Pete have cattle,” she said, as if to herself.
“Different breed.”
“I thought cows were cows,” she quipped over her shoulder with a grin.
“Do you know anything about cattle?” Lucas questioned her.
“Only that they’re raised and sold for meat and sometimes leather,” she answered. “And they moo,” she added with a laugh.
“And milk, Mom,” Cody reminded her.
She dried her hands and approached the table. “And milk,” she agreed, picking up his empty bowl.
Lucas watched her comb Cody’s hair with her long, tapered fingers and imagined how they’d feel skimming through his own hair. “Hell,” he muttered, shoving away from the table.
“What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
“Are those the only clothes you have?” he answered with a question of his own. And what do you look like without them? He swallowed the groan that nearly escaped him at the picture in his mind.
She looked down and picked at the hem of her shirt. “They’re still in the car,” she said before looking up at him. “I didn’t want to put you to any more trouble.”
If she knew how much trouble she was causing him, Lucas was sure she’d head for the hills. Hell, he hadn’t had insane thoughts that verged on lewd for years. He’d had enough women since his ex-wife to keep him at least close to satisfied. Women who filled his hands much more than this one would. But still, there was something about her….
He stuffed his hands in his pockets at the thought of touching her. “I’ll get them.”
“No!” she blurted. “I mean, I’ll just go out and get what we’ll need for another day.”
“You can’t be traipsin’ out in those flimsy shoes.” He looked down at her thin canvas shoes and noticed how small her feet were. “You’d end up with frostbite.”
Her chin went up and her eyes flashed with defiance. “A little snow and cold isn’t going to hurt me. Cody has a snowsuit out there, and boots and mittens.”
“Mittens?”
“He’s only six,” she snapped.
“Aren’t six-year-old boys usually in school?”
Cody answered the question. “I’m in school back home. Mom says this is a special vacation.”
“Vacation?” Lucas nailed her with a look, waiting for an answer.
“Let’s get their clothes, Lucas,” Harley said from the door.
Lucas held her fearful gaze with a promise in his own that they weren’t finished. Without a word, he joined Harley, grabbed his coat and hat, and pulled the door open.
“You’re pushin’ too hard,” Harley told him once they were outside.
“Maybe.” Wet snow hit him full in the face and the wind nearly sent his hat flying.
“I thought you didn’t want any part of it?” Harley reminded him.
They braced themselves against the wind, and Lucas saved his answer until they were inside the shed where he had parked her car. He waited while Harley took the keys from the ignition and returned to the back of the car. “That’s what I said. Maybe I was wrong.”
“Wrong?” Harley’s hand stilled on the key in the trunk lock, and a slow grin crept over his face. “You, Lucas? That’d be a first, wouldn’t it?”
“Just get it open,” Lucas growled.
With a flick of his wrist, Harley opened the trunk and stared inside. “All this for a vacation?”
Cardboard boxes sealed with tape were stuffed between a set of expensive luggage. Toys were crammed in every spare inch, along with more shoes than most people would wear in a month.
“Hell,” Lucas muttered.
“She’s runnin’.”
“Yep.”
Harley pulled two suitcases out and handed them to Lucas, then turned back for the other two. “Think we ought to mention it?”
“Nope.” Lucas considered the collection of belongings. “But I think we ought to keep an eye on her. Give me the keys.”
“Now, Lucas—”
He held out his hand. “Give me the keys, Harley. I don’t want her running off before we can find out what’s happening.”
Harley hesitated. “You’re going to help her?”
“I’m going to find out what’s going on and make sure she’s not on the wrong side of trouble. That’s all. I won’t say anything to Ben unless I think it’s important.”
Harley passed him the set of keys. “Then let me ask the questions. You’re about as subtle as a runaway freight train.”
Lucas picked up the two bags. “You always were better with women.”
Harley’s laughter echoed in the old building. “Me? Hell, Lucas, they always flocked to you like flies to an outhouse.”
Lucas ignored the jab and started out into the weather. “I’ll do the asking. I’ll find out what her name really is and have Ben check it out.”
“You don’t think it’s Rachel Stevens?”
“If it is, mine is Satan.”
“Did I say something wrong, Mom?” Cody asked when the two men were gone.
Rachel had some explaining to do about her little white lies. But this wasn’t the time. “No, it’s all right, honey. Why don’t you run upstairs and