Chasing Clovers (19 page)

Livy placed their plates on the table, and Boots wasted no time digging in.

"
This sure is good, ma'am," he told her.

She smiled at the compliment, and dropped two more pancakes onto Ben's plate. Ben stuffed his face. He was eager, John thought, to go outside and play.

"
Well, the way I figure it Taylor, is you got untrustworthy men workin' for you." Boots said, a piece of egg stuck to his chin.

"
I'm aware of that Boots."

"
I'll do some digging around, if you don't mind. See what I can find."

"
I'd appreciate that. Thanks, Boots."

The sheriff gave a brief nod before he got up and left the kitchen.

Ben shot up out of his chair once he was done, thanked Livy, and ran out the door. Emily
followed going outside to swing on the wooden seat John had hung for them last week.

Livy grabbed his empty plate, and John inhaled her, the scent of lilacs filling his nostrils.

"
How do you get that smell?" he asked her.

She peered over at him, a confused look on her face. "What smell?"

He
grabbed her arm, and pulled her close to nuzzle at her neck. "Lilacs," he whispered.

She pushed away from him, and with shaking hands, smoothed her skirt. "It's soap."

He watched
her. She was beautiful. Her hair was woven into a long braid that allowed little wisps to escape and caress her face. "I like it. It reminds me of a spring morning."

"
It's only soap, Mr. Taylor," she said, brushing him off and taking a step back.

She was scared of him. He could tell. She stood wringing her hands together. "Are you afraid of me?"

"
No, I'm not afraid of you." Her eyes darted about the room.

He stood
.

"
I'd never hurt you, Livy."

"
I know that."

But the quiver in her voice told him otherwise, and he took another step toward her. "Why don't you call me
John
?"

Her cheeks grew rosy, and he couldn
't control his hands as they crawled up either side of her waist. "I won't hurt you," he whispered.

She tried to push him away, but he pulled her closer instead. "Please Mr…uh, John let me go."

Unable to walk away from her, he brought his head down and brushed his lips across hers. "I know you like me, Livy."

She didn
't answer, and he took his cue, deepening the kiss. Her lips, firm at first, softened and move with his. He felt her arms wrap around his neck, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of honey and coffee, and he was crazy with want.

He
grew hard as they bumped into the counter behind them. His hands caressed her ribs, inching upwards to fondle her breasts. She inhaled a sharp breath, but never stopped kissing him. Her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp, she held him to her. He groaned and began unbuttoning her dress. He slipped his hand inside to cup one naked mound. She sighed into his mouth, and he thought he would come undone right there.

The back door opened, ending their kiss. Still
holding Livy, he saw Clive standing halfway in the door, a dumbfounded look on his face.

"
Damn it, Clive, don't you knock?" he yelled.

She
pushed past him and ran out of the room, clutching her dress closed. With no time to stop her, John had no choice but to watch her go.

"
You sure know how to make an entrance," he snapped at his friend.

Clive didn
't answer right away. He stood stock-still at the door.

"
Well? Don't just stand there gawking. What the hell do you want?"

"
Sorry, John," he said his face a light shade of pink. "The funeral is about to start, thought you might want to be there."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair. "Yeah, I'm comin'." Grabbing his hat off the table, he glanced in the direction Livy had run, and went outside with Clive.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Livy watched the funeral from her bedroom window, her skin still tingling from John's caresses. When Clive caught them this morning, she'd fled the kitchen with her dress half undone.

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned loudly
.

She must
've looked like a floozy. How could she have let that happen? What had she been thinking? And why had he kissed her at all? Especially after he'd told her he would never have feelings for her.

Oh, what was the matter with her? She didn
't even like him. He riled her with his bossiness and his holier-than-thou attitude, snapping at her one minute, and then kissing her the next. He'd hypnotized her with his silly words about how beautiful she was, or how she smelled of lilacs.

She wrapped her arms around her middle. She didn
't understand him. She pressed her forehead against the cool plate glass window, but it did nothing to ease the fire in her cheeks. Every time John came near her, touched her, she'd melt like snow in the spring time. And when he kissed her―
I have no control
.

She touched her fingers to her lips and could
still feel his mouth on hers. She was positive that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But he was a man, and she knew all too well that a man's wants were different than those of a woman.

She shuddere
d at the memory of Boyd on top of her.
No. Do not think of him. You will never get that night back.
The night that sick bastard stole more than her pride. After the bruises healed and the aching in her most private places had gone, she vowed never to be with another man again.

Her dreams of getting married and starting a family had been ruined. He had taken so much from her, and she
'd been determined not to think of that night again. Once Emma had been born, she had almost erased it from her mind completely. Boyd would never be a part of her life again. But it was clear she would never forget.

She had lived with a hidden fear of all men until she
'd come to the ranch. John changed all that. When she thought of him, her skin didn't crawl and she never became nauseated. He helped her forget about the awful night, the rough hands on her skin, bruising her. John had never hurt her, and she knew somehow that he never would. She was beginning to care for him, her feelings growing stronger and stronger every time they were together.

She glanced below her at the men gathered arou
nd for the funeral. Mother Nature knew they were mourning. Thick gray clouds littered the sky and covered the sun. Without the sun's light, the fields were drab, drained of their many colors. Before her was a mixture of blues and grays, the fields held a mirror reflecting the sky.

H
ow John was going to figure out who had killed Rusty? Any one of those men down there could've done it as far as she was concerned. They all seemed alike to her. Her green eyes scanned the men, stopping at one in particular. He was the only one who hadn't removed his hat. Squinting, she tried to see his face, but his hat obscured her view. All she saw was his jaw and that―could it be?―he was smiling. She tilted her head to get a better look. Surely he couldn't be. Why would he?

There was something about him that was familiar to her. The way he stood, leaning over to one side, his hand in his jeans pocket like he didn't want to be there. Who could she possibly know way out here? She'd seen so many men working in the saloons that they all seemed to blur into one face.
That was it. He was a mixture of them all, nothing else.
Clive was saying a few words from the Bible, and her eyes sought out John.

He wasn
't hard to find. Tall and strong, he stood separate from everyone else. Her chest grew tight and her heart raced. She was about to let the curtain fall when he stared up at her bedroom window. Their eyes met. He held her gaze, penetrating and raw. Each drawn to the other, she couldn't move as he held her prisoner. She was mesmerized by his handsome features. When he smiled up at her, she took a step back, dropping the curtain, and breaking the spell.

She fanned her face.
What is he doing to me?
Frightened of her own thoughts, she rushed from the room.

John had seen Livy watching the funeral from her bedroom window. Drawn to her, he'd glanced up and found her staring at him. Not able to take his eyes from hers, he stared back. Her beauty captivated him. Her long brown hair, showing strands of red woven through, reminded him of something out of a fairytale book he'd read to Emily. A princess who lived in a tower, her long flowing hair hung down for a prince to climb.

Livy
's creamy white skin, dotted with a few freckles, was soft and supple. John's fingers itched as he remembered caressing her. She was something to be desired―that was for sure―and he was finding that he desired her more and more each day. They had never really talked, so he couldn't say he knew her all that well, but there was something there that drew him to her.

He
pulled his eyes from the window and scanned the yard, stopping when he saw Becky's grave―a wooden cross hammered into the dirt. A lump formed in his throat, and John's chest weighted with guilt. He'd forgotten about Becky.

Resentment settled itself low in his belly. He couldn
't, shouldn't be thinking such thoughts about Livy. He owed Becky more than that. Livy was a mail order bride. Ordered for one purpose, and he'd do right to remember that, instead of listening to his lower half. He ran his hands through his hair. Damn his head ached.

He needed to put some space between
them. He glanced over at Boots. He couldn't act like a jealous husband every time someone looked at her the wrong way. She wasn't his. Besides, he didn't love her, never would. It was best for both of them if he steered clear of her.

"
John," Clive said.

"
Yeah?"

Clive stared back at him, then raised an eyebrow
.

"
What did you need?" John asked, trying to keep the harsh tone from his voice.

"
I thought you might want to say a few words to the men, seein' as how they're all here."

John
cleared his throat. In a firm voice that relayed his authority, he said, "You all know how Rusty died." He eyed his men, some of them nodding, others straight-faced and somber. "I believe one of you is to blame. There is a lockdown on the ranch. No one is to leave without telling me or Clive first. And no one is to go in or around my home." He gave each one a menacing look. "If any of you disobey, you will be fired on the spot, no questions asked. Is this clear?"

All nodded in agreement.

"
Good. There will be light chores today, out of respect for Rusty."

The men began to disperse, and
he called them back. "Oh, one more thing, all alcohol will be turned into Clive. Until this matter is resolved, there is no drinking on the T-Bar."

The men reacted by cur
sing and kicking at the ground.

Ignoring their protests, John walked away.

He needed to go for a ride. He needed to get some privacy, and try to sort things out. He headed straight to where Midnight lounged, chewing on some grass. He grabbed his saddle off of the fence and threw it over top of the horse. Latching the cinch underneath, he gave it one final tug before he leapt onto the well-muscled animal. Kicking his heels, the horse took off.

He let his horse run for a few minutes, until he pulled on the reins bringing the animal to a steady trot. He was anxious. The back of his throat felt thick, and his muscles tense. His mind raced with thoughts of Livy, and Becky, and the problems on the ranch. He led Midnight to the creek, dismounted, and sat down under an oak tree. The long thick branches, speckled with bright green leaves, offered shade on a hot day. But since the sun was hidden behind the clouds, it didn't much matter today.

He leaned against the thick trunk, and felt the corded wood press into his back. Taking off his hat, he ran his hand through his ha
ir. How the hell was he going to figure out who had been causing all the trouble on the T-Bar? Who killed Rusty? Who wanted to hurt Livy? His mind raced with all sorts of possibilities, but none seemed right. He was missing something. He knew it.

"
Damn it."

How was he going to go through with marrying Livy, when he felt
as if he were betraying Becky?

Livy was nothing like his wife. She couldn't cook for one thing, and her temper often caught him off guard and fueled his own anger. Becky never challenged him in all the years they were married. But in the last few weeks, Livy had balked him on almost everything. She fought with him about firing Rusty. She gave him the silent treatment when he came into the house smelling like one of his cows.