The Gentrys: Cinco. Linda Conrad
to run water over their used mugs. “It’s all part of the heritage of the place…of my heritage.”
“I think Cinco is a fine name,” she managed without so much as a smile.
“Well, in five generations there’s been Theo, Teddy, Tres, and my father was T.A. All in all, I’m pretty happy to have Cinco. Though, my mother used to call me Tad sometimes.”
“No, Tad doesn’t seem to suit you.” She narrowed her eyes slightly in thought. “You said ‘was’…‘used to.’ Have your parents passed away, then?”
Uh-oh. Cinco was afraid the conversation had just turned a little too close to home where the Amazon queen was concerned. He sure knew how much it hurt him having to dredge up the pain of losing his parents. Even after all these years her question rocked him.
“Sort of.” That wasn’t much of a civilized answer, and at her shocked expression he was immediately sorry he’d been so blunt.
He tried to remind himself that the wound of her father’s death must still be fresh and raw. “Sorry. The truth is, no one’s positive whether either of my parents are dead or alive. They went on a cruise twelve years ago and never returned.”
“Oh, my God.” She paled and Cinco nearly reached out for her.
He’d stopped himself, not because he didn’t want to comfort her or need to hold her close, but because he knew she’d never allow him to be so intimate.
“It’s been a long time. Life goes on. Time…” He suddenly decided it was time for them to get out of the kitchen, so he swung around toward the back stairs. “Time, Meredith,” he added over his shoulder, “can heal most anything if you have the patience to wait for it.”
He bent to retrieve her duffel and briefcase before he headed upstairs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She bristled past him and made a grab for the bags.
Cinco closed his fingers around the handles and straightened. “Carrying your bags up the stairs to the room you’ll be using.”
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own things… and my own weight. I can handle it, if you’ll kindly just give me directions.” She threw her hands on her hips and pulled her chin up.
He kept his grip tight and stood aside to look at her. Her eyes were shooting those electric-blue blasts of cold energy again. Ferocious and adorable all at the same moment. Cinco decided he liked the way the bridge of her nose crinkled when she was piqued.
He decided to see just how bothered he could make her and what other delights he’d see as she grew angrier. He set the bags down next to his feet in silence, folded his arms across his chest and cocked one eyebrow in her direction.
And there he stayed. After two full minutes of silence, Meredith blinked and began to squirm a little where she stood. He was grateful she’d been the first to crack, because another few seconds and he would have given up. The sweat was already beading across the small of his back.
He’d gotten to her. Good.
Suddenly the urge to drag her against him and plant a devastating kiss across those perfect lips made his own body start to twitch in anticipation. However…that wasn’t exactly what Kyle had in mind when he asked for her protection.
“Uh, look, darlin’,” Cinco finally said. “You and I need to reach a truce here. I’m not your enemy. I only want what’s in your best interest.”
The first real semblance of a smile crossed her face, making Cinco even sweatier than before. Have mercy, but this woman was a stunner when she smiled.
“I’m forced to accept your hospitality, cowboy. And yes, I agree a truce is definitely the only way we’ll ever live through however long I must stay here.” She took her hands from her hips and raised her own eyebrows at him. “But I think I know what’s in my own best interest better than you do. And I insist on pulling my weight… and my own bags.”
She reached for the duffel bag’s handle. “And I’m not your…darlin’.”
“Okay. Carry your own load. It’s no skin off my nose.” He put one foot on the first stair, then turned around with a grin. “But this is my house, and I’ll lead the way upstairs…darlin’.”
Meredith followed him up the staircase, and Cinco stood aside to let her be the first to enter the room that would double as her cell for the foreseeable future. It was the third one down the hall from the top of the stairs. As she’d made her way down the hall, she’d noted that farther along the hallway a short flight of stairs led to more rooms, in what might pass for a different wing entirely. She supposed that wing had been patched on by a generation other than the one who had built this room.
And what a room it was.
The furniture was well built, sturdy—and big. Huge slits for handholds were carved right into the fronts of the chest of drawers. She’d bet someone had designed and built those by their own efforts. The bed was oversize and covered by a soft, tanned-leather throw. A matching leather easy chair, big enough for two of her, was comfortably placed in a corner with a decent-looking reading lamp on the brass-topped table beside it.
The walls were white cracked stucco and the slanted ceiling was held aloft by huge, blackish-brown beams. The room was old, the furniture nearly new. Smelling of furniture polish and leather, the whole thing was spotless, and Meredith was positive it belonged to a man. A man with very good taste.
Probably the very man standing at the threshold, gazing at her with a confused and wary smile.
“Is this your room?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Naw.” He shook his head and gave her a hesitant look. “My room’s across the hall. This was my brother, Cal’s, room once. He moved out about eight years ago so he could try his hand at the stock-car circuit. I had it renovated a few years back in the hopes that maybe he’d come to his senses someday and return home to the ranch.”
He shifted to the other foot but didn’t step any farther into the room. “Guess it won’t be happening now.”
She didn’t want to care, but he sounded so despondent that she was curious. “Oh?”
“He’s getting married today.” Cinco made a face like he’d tasted something sour and foul. “She’s expecting. Apparently, they’re having a quick, shotgun wedding.”
“Yes, well…” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Maybe as new parents they’ll want to be closer to family. When your brother becomes a father, maybe he won’t want to do anything as dangerous as car racing.”
Cinco shook his head. “I doubt it. Cal’s a star. Last year he won the championship cup. That means he won the most races on his circuit. This year he’s so far ahead of the pack that he could just skip a few races and still win this year’s cup. He gets endorsements and TV offers. I don’t think he’d be willing to chuck all that and come home to boring ranch life. Not even for his own child’s sake.”
She felt compelled to say something soothing, regardless of the fact that she had no idea how to do such a thing. “I’m sure ranching isn’t all that boring. I bet it’s probably exciting sometimes,” she said with a smile.
The look he shot her wasn’t boring, lazy or the least bit bemused. All of a sudden his gaze turned hot, sharp and fast—like an F-16 fighter.
“You know when you smile, you sure are easy on the eyes,” he drawled, in complete opposition to the intensity she saw in his gaze. “You ought to do it more often.”
She could feel the pink burn start deep in her chest and gush toward her cheeks again. Damn him. She should’ve known better than to try to be nice to such a control freak.
Meredith turned her back on him and unzipped her duffel. She’d packed lightly. Really, she didn’t own much more than these few