Emmett. Diana Palmer
probably were half-starved for a little of the attention you give rodeoing,” she returned abruptly. “You seem to spend your life avoiding your own children.”
“You’re outspoken,” he said angrily.
“So are you.”
His green eyes narrowed. “Not very worldly, though.”
She wouldn’t blush, she wouldn’t blush, she wouldn’t…!
“The eggs are getting cold,” she reminded him.
The color in her face was noticeable now, but she was a trouper. He admired her attempt at subterfuge, even as he felt himself tensing with faint pleasure at her naiveté. Her obvious innocence excited him. “I have to make a living,” he said, feeling oddly defensive. “Rodeo is what I do best, and it’s profitable.”
“Your cousin mentioned that the ranch is profitable, too.”
“Only if it gets a boost in lean times from other capital, and times are pretty lean right now,” he said shortly. “It’s the kids’ legacy. I can’t afford to lose it.”
“Yes, but there are other ways of making money besides rodeo. You must know a lot about how to manage cattle and horses and accounts.”
“I do. But I like working for myself.”
She stared pointedly at his head. “Yes, I can see how successful you are at it. Head not hurting this morning?”
“I haven’t taken a fall that bad before,” he muttered.
“You’re getting older, though.”
“Older! My God, I’m only in my thirties!”
“Emmett, you’re so loud!” Amy protested sleepily from deep in her blankets.
“Sorry, honey,” he said automatically. His green eyes narrowed and glittered on Melody. “I can ride as well as I ever did!”
“Am I arguing?” she asked in mock surprise.
He got up from his chair and towered over her. “Nobody tells me what to do.”
“I wasn’t,” she replied pleasantly. “But when those kids reach their teens, do you really think anyone’s going to be able to manage them? And what if something happens to you? What will become of them?”
She was asking questions he didn’t like. He’d already started to ask them himself. He didn’t like that, either. He went off toward the bedroom to call the boys and didn’t say another word.
Melody worried at her own forwardness in mentioning such things to him. It was none of her business, but she was fond of Amy and Polk. Guy was a trial, but he was intelligent and he had grit. They were good kids. If Emmett woke up in time to take proper care of them, they’d be good adults. But they were heading for trouble without supervision.
Emmett came back wearing a checked shirt and black boots. Being fully dressed made him feel better armored to talk to Miss Bossy in the kitchen.
“They’re getting up,” he muttered, sitting.
“I’ll warm everything when they get in here.” She busied herself washing the dishes and cleaning the sink until the boys came out of her room, dressed. Then she escaped into the bedroom and closed the door. Emmett’s stare had been provokingly intimate. She’d felt undressed in front of those knowing eyes and she wondered why he had suddenly become so disturbing to her.
Seeing him without his clothes had kindled something unfamiliar in her. She’d never been curious about men that way, even if she did daydream about love and marriage. But Emmett’s powerful shoulders and hair-roughened chest and flat stomach and long, muscular legs, along with his blatant masculinity, stuck in her mind like a vivid oil painting that she couldn’t cover up. He hadn’t even had a white streak across his hips. That was oddly sensual. If he sunbathed, he must do it as he slept: without anything on. He looked very much like one of those marble statues she’d seen photographs of, but he was even more thrilling to look at. She reproached herself for that thought.
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