The Cattleman. Angi Morgan
truthful about why his mother wanted her there...
“I like your parents. They’re so easy to talk to. Mine dissect every word I say looking for hidden meanings. They’re both psychologists.”
His eyes narrowed, suspicious of her words. As he should be. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Your parents want me to psycho-babble you while you teach me to ride.”
He rubbed his old wound as he had several times when around the task force. She’d barely caught a glimpse of the scars before he’d kissed her into forgetting to look. His silence wasn’t what she’d expected. First he rubbed his shoulder, then his forehead. The man was giving considerable thought to her words instead of kicking her to the curb. Or the gravel drive in this case.
“Secondhand therapy? My mom’s crazy if she thinks that will work.”
“I know, right?” Her acrylic nails clicked at her side and she immediately stopped them. She’d developed the bad habit after the addition of long hours spent alone, shunned by her fellow agents. She was nervous, but wouldn’t allow herself to show it. “I...um...would say she’s more desperate to help you. At least that’s how she appears to me.”
Nick’s forehead had deep furrows from his concentration. “Desperate? She’s desperate because of me? That’s why she issued her ultimatum.”
Where was the man who lost his temper at the slightest inconvenience? “It’s ridiculous to think I’d be of any help. I’m not a therapist.”
She could deal easier with the irate cowboy. This concerned son drew her in, encouraging her to help. Therapist or not, she knew how to deal with trauma. She’d lived it, worked through it, dealt with it daily. She probably could talk him through his nightmares. Perhaps even get him to see where therapy would be helpful. Everything she needed was bookmarked on the internet or stored on her hard drive.
Nick began pacing, looking at the ceiling, twisting bric-a-brac in circles on the mantel. “How the hell am I supposed to teach you not to fear a horse?” he mumbled, but again loud enough for anyone in the room to hear.
“Does that mean you’re going to agree?” She was bewildered. Every approach she took with Nick Burke backfired.
He nodded agreement. “Dammit.”
The music covering their conversation from his mother was suddenly quiet.
“Nick, please go get your father from the men’s quarters,” Juliet called from the kitchen, breaking up the standoff.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said loud enough for his mother to hear. He marched the couple of steps across to Beth and leaned close to her ear. “Just how do you plan on explaining to the county that you’re staying here?”
Just his breath darting across her earlobe made her quiver with anticipation. Stop! she silently cried out to her insides.
“It was suggested...” She swallowed hard, unable to state it. He’d be madder than a cross-eyed bee. Well, then, she could say it. When he was angry, it was easy not to give him the time of day. She couldn’t possibly like him more than when she’d arrived here this morning. “I’ll be posing as your girlfriend. Fiancée would be an even better cover. You’d be part of the team.”
“You’re kidding me. You want me to join their task force?”
“It’s really Cord McCrea’s suggestion. He’s in charge of trying to find the smugglers who keep using your land. Staying here was his idea. You’ll serve as the official guide or tracker...something like that. But you won’t carry a gun or anything.”
“The hell I won’t carry a gun,” he whispered emphatically. “There’s no way you really think we can pull this off. We ha—don’t even like each other.”
He’d almost said hate. Her acting ability would be pushed to the ultimate limit. First pretending not to like him when they were alone. And then making him think she was only pretending to like him when they had an audience—that part wouldn’t be acting. All the while she’d be secretly wanting to repeat everything they’d done on that mountain. It was so very confusing and she wasn’t trying to explain it to anyone but herself.
At the end of the day, she would do what was needed in order to get away from here as fast as possible.
The stubble he’d neglected to shave beckoned to her so she’d use it against him. She reached out and let her nail scrape his cheek down to the corner of his lips. He took it, staying perfectly still, his jaw twitching even more visibly.
“Why, Nick,” she said half closing her eyes and looking only at his lips. “We don’t have to like each other to have fun while stuck in this situation.”
His hand raised and she was prepared for him to push her away. Instead, he wrapped it softly around hers and drew the tip of her finger between his lips. His thumb drew circles on her palm and his breathing changed—or was it hers that hitched in her chest? She tugged her hand back, yet his mouth held on to its prey. She wanted to haul those lips against hers faster than a speeding bullet.
The feeling frightened her more than potentially making a fool of herself did.
Keeping cool and not reacting further was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She could be proud of herself for not succumbing to his sexiness.
“That’s the only logical thing you’ve said since I met you.” He dropped her hand and strutted away.
The door didn’t exactly slam behind him, but he didn’t bother to hide the cursing as he stomped down the porch steps. Nick’s feet hit the gravel on the drive and he let out a growl loud enough to be heard through the window.
“That’s exactly what I said,” she whispered to his retreating image.
“Did he ask about your cover story?” Juliet popped in from the kitchen and Beth had to pull her gaze away from Nick kicking a rock into the barnyard.
She nodded and faced her hostess, her body feeling the rebuff as much as her mind. “This is never going to work.”
“Oh, yes, it will,” Juliet answered before letting the door swing shut as she retreated into the kitchen. “I’ve left him no choice.”
There was an extra gleam in Juliet’s eyes. And for some strange reason, Beth had the feeling that she’d just been taken to the cleaners by a professional con artist.
“Staying here might well be worse than banishment.”
Back in Chicago, Beth began every day in the gym. No exceptions. Her trainer worked her hard and kept her body humming. But mucking stalls and moving hay bales attacked muscles she’d never known existed.
“How do you do this every day?” she asked Juliet and Alan as she creaked to a halt, leaning on the back of a kitchen chair.
“I cook, dear. The only outside muck I come into contact with is the manure for my garden.”
“Speaking of which, don’t you need some around your corn, honey?” Alan asked.
“Don’t you even suggest this poor thing bring any to my garden. You know we don’t work on it during the winter. Now, out with you, Ronald Alan Burke. Go. Shoo.”
“This will tide me over until lunch.” Alan patted Juliet on the bottom and scooped up a leftover breakfast biscuit with his other hand. “You’ve done a good job, Beth. Thanks for helping out since Nick took off to the mountains yesterday.”
“Not a problem. Like you said, everybody needs to chip in.”
Alan left and Beth should have followed, but she was so tired from yesterday and the couple of hours she’d worked that morning, she didn’t think her feet