Part 7 (1/2)
He steeled himself against the lure of it. ”I'm leaving, Mallory.”
”Where will you be today?”
”Over at the Double Crown's training arena.”
”I'll make supper,” she called.
He had to smile. ”You're sure?”
”I want to try one of the recipes Rosita gave me.”
”See you later, then.”
”Later,” she murmured as he opened the door and left. She'd probably go back to sleep until noon. He'd alert the security guards that she was home alone and ask them to be particularly watchful.
Midmorning he realized he'd been wrong about Mallory sleeping until noon when he saw her snazzy car pull up to the gravel area beside one of the corrals. She was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white cotton blouse and natural leather shoes that tied. When she saw him, she quickly walked toward him. The swing of her hair, the ruffle of her bangs in the breeze and the graceful movement of her body made him take a deep breath.
”Is something wrong?” he asked when she reached the corral.
She smiled at him. ”No, I came to work.”
His gaze took another sweep of her. ”Work?”
”I know I have to get a pair of jeans and some boots, but for now this will have to do. I can't sit in the cabin and do nothing all day, Reed. Isn't there something I can do here? I love horses....”
She might love horses in theory, but working with them was another matter entirely and required know-how. ”You'll get dirty,” he said succinctly.
”That doesn't matter. I can wash this, and the shoes... Well, they'll just be my work shoes.”
To hide another smile, he swiped off his Stetson and ran a hand through his hair. If she wanted work to do, he'd give her work. After today, maybe she'd go up to the house and help Rosita instead of distracting him!
”Follow me,” he ordered, setting his hat back on his head.
He led her into one of the barns, aware of her light footsteps behind him. The wranglers were exercising the mares from this barn and it was still, except for the flies and dust motes dancing in the sunlight.
Opening one of the stall doors, he nodded to the hay and the smell emanating from it. ”The stalls need to be mucked out. The pitchfork is over there.” He pointed to a part.i.tion. ”As well as anything else you might need-a shovel or broom. Just push the mess into a pile outside. Any questions?”
The crestfallen look on her face was priceless. She'd probably make up an excuse and find something else to do fairly quickly. Staring at him for a few moments, she didn't look away. Then without a word she went toward the part.i.tion and grabbed the pitchfork. ”You can go back to what you were doing,” she said. ”I'll be fine in here.”
He'd give her fifteen minutes tops, then expect to see her headed toward her car.
A half hour later he went to the barn to check on her. Her nose wrinkled as she shoveled hay and horse droppings into a pile on the outside walkway to the barn. She must have found a rubber band somewhere and tied her hair up in a ponytail. She'd also rolled up her blouse sleeves. Smudges of dirt already marred the pristine material. He thought about teasing her, then decided that would be pus.h.i.+ng his luck after their go-around yesterday. Still betting she'd leave before lunch, he went back to the corral and the colts, which he understood much better than Mallory.
Time got lost as he eased the young horses into halters, handled them and spoke to them gently. It was the basis of all the training he did. But when Hank, a grizzled old cowhand, called to him to ask him if he was having lunch at the bunkhouse, he remembered Mallory. After returning a colt to the pasture, he saw that her car was still there. Surprised, he went to the barn and found her inside, mucking out yet another stall.
”Lunch break,” he announced, admiring her grit in sticking to the job this long.
”I have one more stall to clean out. I think I'll do that, then get lunch back at the cabin. I'll have to get supper started.”
”What are we having?” he asked.
She tilted her head and gave him a smug smile. ”It's a surprise.”
He pretty much knew what was in the freezer. ”Mallory, you don't have to go to a lot of trouble. I could just cook steaks on the grill.”
”I'm stopping at the big house to talk to Rosita and get what I need. I want to make supper, Reed. You've done so much for me already.”
He didn't expect grat.i.tude from her, and he had to admit it wasn't particularly what he wanted, either. ”All right, then. I'll see you later.” As he turned to leave the barn, she called his name.
When he stopped to face her, she said, ”I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to do anything foolish. I didn't even think about Clint Lockhart and Winston. I just wanted to do something useful.”
This woman surprised him at every turn, and he wasn't sure he liked the unsettled feeling that it gave him. It was bad enough desire tangled up his thoughts. ”Forget about it, Mallory. It's over.”
This time when he turned to leave, she didn't stop him. Once outside in the suns.h.i.+ne, he shrugged off the feeling that it wasn't over. Mallory wasn't the pa.s.sive type, and he had a feeling that given a good reason, she'd do the same thing all over again.
It was almost six o'clock when Reed returned to the cabin after going over training schedules with Cruz and Hank for the next month. When his sister Matilda arrived, she could give them a hand, and Cruz could spend more time at his own place. Though Matilda was young, twenty-one, she was almost as good with horses as Reed was, though he'd never admitted that to her. She'd been born a tomboy and insisted that any girl who had five brothers had to be one to survive. The truth was, they were all protective of her and she hated it.
He had to admit he missed her. He missed all of them, in a different way than when he'd gone away to college. Though he'd enjoyed every minute of it, the University of Adelaide had seemed a world away from his home. Now he really was a world away.
He should call and tell his folks about Stephanie before they heard it from mutual friends. And then there was Mallory...
Thoughts of home quickly vanished. The hearty aroma of meat and spices wound around him as he stepped inside the adobe. Even though its thick walls kept it comfortable most of the time, the heat from the oven had infiltrated everywhere and even the ceiling fan wasn't doing much good. Mallory had changed into a tank top and shorts, but her cheeks were flushed and her bangs damp from the time she'd spent in the kitchen. Her hair was still caught up in a ponytail.
”It smells terrific,” he said.
”I hope it tastes as good.” She sounded worried. But then she went on, ”I set the table outside. The oven made it really hot in here.”
”Give me ten minutes for a quick shower and I'll be right out.”
When he joined her outside, he couldn't believe his eyes, let alone his nose. If the roast beef tasted as good as it looked, he was in for a treat. The broccoli and carrots had been steamed to a perfect color and the bowl of mashed potatoes made his mouth water. ”You learned how to do this in one easy lesson?” he asked, amazed.
She winked at him. ”I'm a fast learner.”
He laughed. ”Are you sure Rosita didn't come down here and cook this?” But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew Mallory might take the remark as an insult. ”I'm teasing,” he added gently.
She gave him an impish smile. ”I know you are.” Then she held up her right hand. ”I swear I did this on my own, and I only called Rosita twice.” They both laughed together this time as they sat at the table and started in on their plates. When Reed took the first bite, he noticed Mallory watching him. Swallowing, he remarked, ”It's good, Mallory.”
”Really?” she asked, looking concerned.
”Really.”
Her hazel eyes sparkled with his compliment and he wanted to lean across and kiss her, yet he didn't want to disrupt the welcome camaraderie that had sprung up. Although the s.e.xual tension that had vibrated between them from the moment they'd met hadn't lessened, they ate in an almost companionable silence.
When they'd finished, Mallory stood and picked up both of their plates. ”I almost hate to go back inside.”
He stood, too, and suddenly had an idea he hoped would please her. ”Then let's not go back in.”
”I have to do the dishes.”
”We'll let them soak in the sink. I want to take you somewhere.”