Part 6 (1/2)
J.T. heard a rustle from the second wall tent and Slim Walker and Cotton Heywood came out, followed by Roy s.h.i.+elds and Nevada Black. After a few minutes of standing around the campfire, J.T. asked about Luke Adams.
”Haven't seen him,” Slim said. ”He was already up and gone when I woke.” Roy and Cotton nodded in agreement and everyone looked to Will Jarvis.
”His cot was empty when I got up and made the fire,” Will said.
J.T. took a look in the wall tent. Luke's gear was gone and when he walked over to the corral, he wasn't surprised to find Luke Adams's horse gone as well. What the h.e.l.l?
Maybe after last night's dinner Luke decided he didn't need any more of this. Luke just hadn't seemed like the type to leave in the middle of the night.
Now J.T. was a man short. Worse, he didn't like the way Luke had left-without a word. Was it a coincidence that Luke Adams was gone and Reggie had been talking to someone in the woods in the middle of the night? J.T. highly doubted it as he headed for the line shack.
Shafts of pearl-gray shot down through the tops of the pines, turning the early morning dew to diamonds.
As he neared the cabin, he found himself getting angrier by the minute. The woman had lied and somehow disabled his truck and even tried to blackmail him! She was definitely after his a.s.s all right. But he doubted it had anything to do with a TV commercial. She was trying to sabotage his cattle roundup. Had already done a pretty good job of it. He'd had to send Buck back to the ranch and now he was short another hand with Luke gone.
What the h.e.l.l was J.T. going to do with her? He knew what he'd like to do with her-and it wasn't let her cook.
He just couldn't let her get to him. Look what she'd done to poor unsuspecting Buck. All that delicate softness, curvaceous sweetness and apparent defenselessness sucked a man in. He remembered the way she'd been last night after that awful meal, all doe-eyed and apologetic. It still annoyed him that she'd made him feel guilty as if all of this was his fault.
As he stepped up onto the porch, he wondered what devious plots she'd been hatching last night. He paused just outside the door. He didn't need to announce his entrance. After all, it was his his cabin. But he still scooped up an armload of firewood before noisily stomping his feet on the porch. He didn't want to catch her naked, that was for d.a.m.ned sure. cabin. But he still scooped up an armload of firewood before noisily stomping his feet on the porch. He didn't want to catch her naked, that was for d.a.m.ned sure.
He started to open the door, but stopped himself. Irritated, he knocked.
When he didn't get an answer, he opened the door a crack. ”Ms. Holland?”
To his surprise, the fire in the stove crackled warmly, casting a faint glow over the room. He took a couple of steps into the room, reminded that he was walking into her bedroom. ”Ms. Holland?”
Still not a sound. He cleared his throat and called out again wondering if it was possible that she'd taken off with Luke Adams.
No hint of daybreak bled through the windows and he realized that she'd draped towels over them for curtains. As his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness, he could make out a lump burrowed under a pile of covers on the first bottom bunk. He figured she'd be dead to the world after last night-no doubt her first real manual labor.
He stomped over to the woodstove, making enough racket to raise the dead-if not a Los Angeles talent agent. If that really was what she was.
She didn't stir-not until he stumbled over something out in the middle of the floor. A series of objects thudded loudly and something rolled across the floor.
Cursing under his breath, he worked his way around the far edge of the floor to the woodstove, dropped his armload of wood unceremoniously and felt around for a match. From the bunk came a loud groan.
He lit the lantern. Reggie was completely covered by blankets, not even her head visible.
”Buck?” came a faint sleepy voice from deep in the bunk.
”No,” J.T. snapped, sounding as irascible as he felt. Buck was on his way to Antelope Flats because of her. Reggie was on her own. And look what had happened last night when Buck had helped helped her cook. her cook.
”Oh, McCall,” she said from under the blankets, not sounding in the least pleased that it was him.
He held up the lantern to see what he'd tripped over. All of the canned goods and food supplies Buck had brought up were now stacked in a semicircle around Reggie's bunk on the floor.
”What in the-?” J.T. shook his head as he stepped closer. Why in the world would she literally surround herself with groceries?
He swung the lantern around to s.h.i.+ne it on the bottom bunk. All he could see of her was one bare arm sticking out of the mountain of blankets. The arm was curled around a ten-pound bag of flour. J.T. frowned in nothing short of true bewilderment.
”Why is all the food on the floor?” he asked patiently.
Reggie's head poked out from under the blankets, she blinked as if blinded by the firelight-or him, then she ducked back under with a louder groan.
He smiled, cheered immensely that he'd woken her from her beauty sleep. The fact that he was the last person she wanted to see this morning made it all the better.
She looked out at him, blinking away sleep, seeming to find it hard to focus on him.
In the lantern light she looked a lot better than he felt. It annoyed him greatly.
”How were your accommodations?” he asked, hoping she'd gotten less sleep than he had, especially since she'd had that late-night secret summit in the woods. He wanted to demand who she'd been talking to out in the woods last night but he decided to keep that piece of information to himself a little longer. First he would watch her with the cowhands. Better to let her think she had gotten away with her late-night rendezvous. ”Sleep well?”
”Like a baby.” She blinked those big blue eyes at him, clearly lying through her teeth. ”What time is it?”
”Time to start breakfast.”
Her gaze went to the window. ”It's still dark outside.”
He didn't tell her that normally the cook got up way before daybreak to start the fire. It took an hour before the fire was ready to cook on.
Fortunately, she'd kept the fire going so breakfast wouldn't be as late as he'd figured.
”As camp cook,” he said, ”you have to get up earlier than anyone else and usually go to bed later.”
She tried to sit up and then seemed to realize she still had her arm around the bag of flour. She sneaked a quick look at him, then haughtily freed her arm and glaring at him, sat up, banging her head on the over-head bunk. ”Ouch.” She rubbed her forehead and eyed him as if this too were his fault. ”Well, aren't you going to say something smart?”
He tried not to laugh. Served her right. If she hadn't been glaring at him- ”If you will just go away and let me get up and dressed....”
”Not so fast.” The more he looked at the semicircle of staples, the more curious-and concerned-he'd become. ”You haven't told me what the food is doing around your bed. I'm sure there is a simple explanation.” He highly doubted it since it was Reggie. He wasn't sure what exasperated him more about her, the fact that she looked so good in the morning or that she really thought she could evade his question.
She glanced at the supplies on the floor and chewed for a moment on her lower lip. ”Have it your way-” She threw back the covers, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.
Just the sight of her killed every coherent thought except one: Wow.
The white silken gown fell over her curves like melting b.u.t.ter on flapjacks, making it hard to tell where the gown began and skin ended. To make matters worse, there was her hair. Yesterday it had been wrapped in a tight little bun or whatever at the nape of her neck. Now it floated around her pale shoulders, dark and luxurious.
He turned his back to her, going to the woodstove to stoke the fire, a fire of his own burning hot inside him. He was about to excuse himself and give her a chance to get dressed when she padded barefoot over to where he stood by the woodstove.
She had pulled another garment over the gown, something in the same thought-stealing silk that did little to hide her own a.s.sets. He tried to keep his gaze on her face. It was soft and cute as a newborn calf and just as harmless looking. Appearances could be so so deceiving. Her fragrance floated around him. Perfume and-he frowned-dish soap? ”What are you doing?” deceiving. Her fragrance floated around him. Perfume and-he frowned-dish soap? ”What are you doing?”
She shot him a look as she picked up one of the skillets from the counter behind her. ”I'm getting breakfast.”