Crockett's Seduction (5 page)

He pulled away silently. Then he took the chocolate frosting spoon lying on the table and brushed it across her lips.

He licked her mouth clean, kissing her as she had never been kissed. Valentine’s knees went weak, her blood thundered and tears sprang into her eyes. His touch felt so good! Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

She was surprised when Crockett stepped away from her. “I can’t—” he said.

“What?” she asked softly.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I may not be so different from my brother after all.”

He walked out of the bakery. The tinkle of the bells on the door let her know he had gone. Valentine touched her lips in wonder. Maybe he regretted their kiss, but she certainly didn’t. Crockett kissed like a dream.

Of course, he
had
frosted her. And what woman could resist being a lickable treat?

Her gaze fell on the pastry board across the room.

A new, exciting, almost
shameless
idea blossomed in her mind.

“W
ERE YOU EATING CAKE
, Uncle Crockett? Did you bring us some?” Minnie asked as they sat in the truck.

Crockett frowned. He had been hungry for something, and it wasn’t cake. “No. Why?”

“You have chocolate on your face,” Kenny observed. “Right on your mouth.”

Crockett cleared his throat. “I might have tried a little something sweet,” he said.

“Valentine bakes real well, doesn’t she?” Minnie asked. “Dad says if Last was smart, he’d ask Valentine to marry him.”

“What?” Crockett cleaned off his mouth with a handkerchief.

“I hope he doesn’t,” Kenny said. “I don’t want Valentine to have to stay home and have more babies. I mean, I like Annette, but Valentine bakes my favorite things. Even Mom says it’s worth a drive to town just to say hello to Valentine and see what she’s got in the oven. We keep a special jar of change marked Valentine’s.”

Crockett was astonished by Calhoun’s suggestion that Last should marry his one-night flame. It just showed how crazy Crockett had been to kiss Valentine. He had a funny feeling no one in his family would think him romancing the tempting little baker was a good thing.

“I don’t even like chocolate,” he said.

“Then why did you eat it?” Minnie asked curiously.

“Because it tempted me,” he said. “But I’m giving myself a deadline for getting over it.”

“What’s a deadline?” Kenny asked.

“It means doing something by a certain time.”

And he planned to get Valentine off his mind by the time her Father’s Day picnic rolled around. He had just about one month.

“You have chocolate on your face,” Mason said when Crockett walked into the house.

“Still?” Crockett took a look in the hallway mirror and rubbed at his face again, this time removing all traces of the kiss he and Valentine had shared. “That stuff has staying power.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had time to sit around and eat bonbons lately.”

“Shut up, Mason, you ol’ sourpuss. You had your chance at frosting.” That’s when Crockett saw the note beside the phone. “Need cowboys for charity rodeo.” He glanced up. “
Marvella
is giving to charity?”

Marvella was the owner of the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon in the nearby town of Lonely Hearts Station, Texas. Over time, the Jefferson brothers’ relationship with her had grown diffi
cult. They were friends with her sister, Delilah, who owned a rival salon across the street from Marvella’s. The two salons—and the two sisters—battled constantly, for customers, for stylists, for any imagined infraction. And Marvella had never been known for her charity.

Valentine had been working for Marvella when she’d first met Last. It had been Marvella’s idea—and her threats—that had convinced Valentine to begin the paternity lawsuit against Last. Luckily, Valentine came to her senses before any damage was done, and she’d been more than happy to leave her work as a stylist at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon for the world of baked goods.

“Yeah,” Mason answered. “Delilah’s got Marvella on a do-good kick, and it seems to be softening the old girl up. Gotta reinforce that when we can.”

Crockett scowled. “Are you going?”

“Probably. It’s good for us to do charity work. Besides, I haven’t rodeo’d in a while.”

He’d been too busy chasing the elusive Maverick and chewing off his brothers’ heads. Crockett shrugged. “I guess I’m game if everybody else is.”

“So…” Mason said, coming into the kitchen. “Speaking of Marvella, a little birdie told me you
might be developing a soft spot for one of her ex-employees, Valentine.”

“Not really,” Crockett said, “but damn that birdie. What is the location of its nest so I can teach it not to idly gossip?”

Mason held up a hand. “Don’t go off all hotheaded. It was purely speculation.”

Since Jeffersons speculated on each other’s business, it was hard to say “butt out.” Crockett sighed. “I took Olivia’s kids into town, and now I’m behind on my chores. See ya.”

But before he could leave Mason looked at him funny. “You know, it would probably be a good thing if you went to visit Delilah, maybe stayed in Lonely Hearts Station for a few days.”

“What the hell?” Crockett was totally annoyed. “Because of some little birdie?”

“No, because Last isn’t sure how he feels about the whole thing.”

“There is no
thing,
” Crockett said grimly. “If there were, you’d be the first to know, I’m sure, because Last would come telling tales to big brother. Besides, I don’t know why a
thing
would be a problem since Last treats Valentine like leftover soup most of the time.”

“That’s between the two of them.” Mason’s tone was stern, and Crockett felt his blood hit slow boil.

“There is no
them
.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“Yeah? So you’re saying that, given time, there might be a
them?
” A tiny bit of guilt and a whole lot of jealousy crept up on Crockett. So he tried to change the subject. “There’s been plenty of time for you and Mimi, but maybe some Romes never get built.”

Mason frowned. “I signed you up to ride a bull for Delilah’s salon, Bloodthirsty Black.”

“What?” Crockett stared at his brother. As good as most of them were at rodeo, none of them had been able to stay on Delilah’s beast, which had finally won his registration as a bounty bull. “Last whines to you about me so you register me for an ass kicking? Don’t you think it’s time you realize the baby of the family is all grown-up, Mason? You don’t have to protect Last anymore. He’s quite capable of handling himself.”

Mason shook his head. “You’ve been at loose ends ever since you gave up painting. Calhoun trying his hand at the old paint box shouldn’t have bothered you the way it did. But sometimes brothers feel things deeply, and you’ve been in a funk ever since you gave up the thing you loved best.”

“
I’ve
been in a funk?” Crockett felt white heat creeping up the back of his skull. “What have you been in ever since Mimi married Brian?”

They stared at each other. For the first time, Crockett wondered if they might come to blows. Over the years, he’d battled with his twin, Navarro, but never with his big brother Mason. Mason usually commanded the utmost respect.

But not at this moment.

“She’s divorced now, Mason. Free as a bird. And if you’re wooing Mimi with this Rome-wasn’t-built-in-a-day method, can I just tell you that’s how you lost her in the first place?” Crockett took a deep, torn breath. “Time is not our friend, Mason.”

Mason had turned as pale as the French vanilla paint in Valentine’s kitchen. Crockett felt pretty certain his brother thought he was doing all the right things—but the fact was, Mason’s “right” wasn’t everybody else’s “right.”

“Don’t lecture me about Valentine, Mason. I have my own definition of what’s right and what’s wrong. I’ll ride Delilah’s bounty bull, but only because I want to help an old friend. Next time, how ’bout you hop
your
ass atop ol’ Hooves Of Death? Frankly, I don’t have a whole lot to prove. You sure as hell
might
.”

He left the kitchen, his chest tight. Mason had no business lecturing him. And Last had no right to run telling tales to Mason.

Crockett stopped in his tracks, forcing himself to breathe deeply. The truth was, he
was
romancing Valentine, not a lot, but a little. And obviously there were hard feelings about it. Even he and Valentine both seemed to know that they were flirting with disaster. His feelings were not exactly shiny clean. The residue of guilt and the frequent jealousy told him that.

If it hadn’t been for Last’s wild night on the town, Valentine wouldn’t be living on the ranch. And if she became uncomfortable with her friendship with Crockett, she might leave.

That was the last thing Crockett wanted. She had a good home here. Valentine was happy and grateful for her newfound independence. She was trying to please the brothers by making good on their investment. And Annette had people around who doted on her. Even Minnie and Kenny made special efforts to play with her and coddle her like a little sister. But if Mason felt the need to broach the subject, then matters had heated up.

What had Crockett been
thinking?
A sweet kiss was heaven, but he should have learned his lessons
about forbidden fruit from watching his brothers in various stages of downfall. Brothers could unwittingly cause each other all kinds of pain.

Like the pain Calhoun had caused him by trying out painting. Like the pain good-hearted Mason caused everyone. Like the pain he had probably caused all his brothers at one time or another without ever knowing it.

If matters had become uncomfortable and someone needed to leave the ranch so that Rome could be built in some form or fashion…it would be Crockett.

Until that became necessary, he resolved to stay as far away from Valentine as was humanly possible.

O
N THE DAY OF THE RODEO
, Valentine watched Calhoun and Olivia fix a bridle for Minnie, smiling at how easily the couple worked together. Maybe one day she and Crockett would have that type of relationship, she thought wistfully.

The daydream surprised her. One small kiss and she was thinking of a life together? Most likely the kiss hadn’t meant anything to him. He was probably doing what Jefferson men did with willing women—amusing himself. After all, the Jefferson brothers were not immune to women, and women
loved those men because they were always rough and ready.

And she
had
made the first move.

“Valentine, is something wrong?” Olivia asked. “You seemed so happy a second ago.”

“No. I’m fine.” She gave Olivia a smile. “I’ve been thinking about a new recipe.”

“Oh, I know all about the mood of creation,” Olivia said. “When Calhoun is working on a project, he gets very quiet.”

Valentine stood. “I should get to the bakery.”

Calhoun looked surprised. “You’re not going to the rodeo?”

“Oh, no.” Valentine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, patting Kenny on the head as she stood.

“We can give you a ride, of course,” Olivia said.

“Come with us,” Minnie said. “It’s going to be fun. All the brothers are going to ride!”

“I’d better work,” she murmured.

She didn’t want to run into Marvella, and she didn’t want to see her old coworkers from the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon. Once she’d left, those ties had forever been broken. It would be awkward, like a player who was now on an opposing team, despite the fact that Marvella and Delilah were said to be behaving just like sisters these days.

“Have fun.” She smiled and excused herself,
walking toward her truck. “Somebody call me and tell me how it went.”

Just then Crockett pulled up in his truck. Valentine smiled and waved, slowing her steps a little so he could catch her and chat if he wanted to. He didn’t. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized he’d gone right to his brother. When he looked up and saw her peeking his way, he gave a brief nod.

Valentine’s heart sank. Maybe he was very busy and hadn’t had a chance to be more outgoing.

But a moment later, when she heard Crockett’s truck roar off into the distance, she knew their kiss yesterday had been a bad idea. And as for that shameless creativity he’d inspired in her that day? It was probably best to let all the bad ideas go.

“Who was I kidding?” she murmured. Of course the specter of Last had given him pause. It was so unfair, and the next time she saw Crockett, she was going to tell him so!

But looking up at the main house, she knew she would do no such thing. Her life here was good, and it was secure for her daughter. If, for whatever reason, Crockett had decided that he didn’t want to spend time with her, then she would accept that and stay in her own corner of the ranch. Their friendship had always been easygoing and plea
surable. She didn’t want to lose that—with him, nor with the Jefferson clan as a whole.

“Valentine!”

Raising her head, she saw Last heading toward her.

Valentine waited for Last.

“Hey,” he said. He had Annette trundling behind him in a little red wagon, which made Valentine smile.

“Hi,” she said to Last. “Did you get a wagon?” she asked her broadly grinning daughter.

“I was thinking about taking her into Lonely Hearts Station with me,” Last said. “Do you mind if she goes to the rodeo?”

Valentine was astonished. Last’s fathering skills seemed to be improving by the day. It was as if he’d discovered fatherhood was the most fun a man could have.

“My brothers and I are riding. And Helga’s coming this time. She said she’d help keep an eye on Annette.”

“I think she’d love it.” Valentine found it hard
to meet Last’s eyes now that she’d kissed his brother. Not that Last had any reason to care, but still a little guilt nudged her conscience. “Wouldn’t you love to go to a rodeo, Annette?”

Her daughter simply continued to grin. Valentine smiled, thinking how different her daughter’s life might have been if Mason hadn’t decided to make a home for them at the ranch. “Of course she should go,” Valentine said.

“Do you want to come with us?” Last asked.

Startled, Valentine looked up to meet his gaze. He looked sort of hopeful, but not in a romantic way.

“I’m trying to put the past behind us,” Last said.

“The past?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I haven’t been as nice to you as I should have been. I regret that, and I’m sorry. It’s not a good excuse, but I needed to do some growing up.”

“And then what?” Was he suggesting they become a whole family?

He shrugged. “And then hopefully we raise a happy child who understands that both her parents are good people.”

That didn’t sound like a flirtatious move. “Okay,” she said. “I’m good with that.” Whatever was best for her daughter, she was willing to try.
“Thank you for the offer of a ride, but actually, I was planning on working today.”

“But the rodeo’s in town!”

Valentine laughed. “And you may recall that I once lived in Lonely Hearts Station. I have seen many a rodeo and many a Jefferson ride. Always a fascinating event guaranteed to bring in the customers. However, today I have festivities of my own.”

She kissed her daughter and gave her a little hug, which Annette returned. “You enjoy watching your uncles. No doubt one of them will need a sweet baby kissie to soothe the ouchies they get from getting tossed.”

She would miss her daughter today, but one thing she appreciated about the unusual relationship with Last was that they never fought over time with their daughter. Annette would love the rodeo, and Valentine had work to do.

“Don’t get hurt,” she said. “Ride safe, Last.”

Nodding, he left, pulling Annette’s wagon.

She hoped Crockett wasn’t the one who got the ouchie, because she had a funny feeling he wouldn’t come to her to get a kiss for it.

C
ROCKETT HAD SEEN
Last wheeling the wagon down toward Valentine’s truck, so, even though he
knew he was stooping way too low, he parked his truck behind a barn and watched them as they stood together talking.

It was wrong. Since he had decided to stay away from Valentine, he shouldn’t care. Still, the jealousy monster had kicked back in. Telling himself that a man with information was a smart man, he excused his spying and—again—watched his brother.

Was Last romancing Valentine? Did he want to mend his ways and make a family with her?

Crockett could certainly understand if he did. If Annette was his little girl, he would want her to have an intact family. Life wasn’t always perfect—the brothers were a good example of a dysfunctional family—but Crockett would sure put the work into trying for perfect. Loving Valentine would be no hardship on a man. She was sweet. Talented. Dedicated, and a wonderful mother.

He watched as she bent down to kiss Annette—and then realization hit him painfully in the gut. This was not just mere attraction—it mattered to him that she be happy.

And if that meant she should be with Last, then why was he standing here spying?

He got into his truck with a heavy heart and drove away.

A
T HER BAKERY
, Valentine once more read over the recipe she held in her hand. Since there was a rodeo in Lonely Hearts Station, most of Union Junction had headed that way, partly for the fun of the rodeo and the charity event, but mainly to see the Jefferson men ride. So Valentine had locked up the shop doors, and she now sat on a tall wooden stool in the back of her shop, pulled up to the very pastry table where Crockett had kissed her senseless.

She may have had to give up her daydreams about Crockett, but she didn’t have to give up the exciting idea he’d sparked in her with that kiss.

She pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. Carefully she drew the shape of a gingerbread man, only this one had legs that ended in the shape of boots. Instead of a completely round head, she drew one topped by a cowboy hat. The corners probably wouldn’t bake as uniformly as rounded heads. She needed a mold.

Making one of those was best accomplished using thin tin strips that she could shape with needle-nose pliers. Here at the bakery, she didn’t have any needle-nose pliers, but she knew where she could find some.

Minutes later, she let herself into the main ranch house. It seemed strange that the house
was so empty. She’d never been here alone; usually at least Helga was on the premises. Without the men the house lacked vitality and spirit. Valentine stood very still in the hallway listening to the silence.

This was what her life would have been like without the Jefferson brothers.

She didn’t like it.

Hurrying into the kitchen, she headed toward the toolbox under the sink but a clay figurine on the counter caught her eye. She stopped and picked it up. Long hair was drawn into the clay, but the face had been left blank. Her curves were womanly, and she had a lushly bountiful rump tattooed with a tiny heart. The initials CJ were carved into the heart in tiny letters.

Air caught in Valentine’s chest. Crockett had obviously begun working with a new medium, and he clearly liked this nude well enough to carve his initials into her bottom.

Who was this woman?

She’d had no idea Crockett had a lady friend. Especially one he’d seen nude. She felt flattened, and near tears. So why had he kissed
her
then?

The answer to that was simple. He hadn’t. She’d kissed him, and he’d responded. Then he’d left. Today he’d wanted nothing to do with her.

Now she understood. Tears stinging her eyes, she reached under the sink, grabbed the pliers and escaped.

T
WO HOURS LATER
, Valentine had herself back under control. Crockett wasn’t the only person who needed a creative outlet. Her newest idea would be her most fun creation yet; a wonderful way to ease her pride and get her mind off Crockett.

She looked at the rows of gingerbread cowboys laid out in strict marching order. “It certainly doesn’t hurt as much to think about impossible cowboys if you’re going to bake them the way you want them,” she told her “men” with a smile. “Not bad for a trial run.”

Something was missing, though, and a moment later she was twisting two new molds, a boy and a girl. With some frosting and decoration, she would have cookies to give the children at Christmas.

With sure hands, she formed a skirt on the girl and a darling pair of pants on the boy cookie. Smiling, she cut out a candy cane and laid it atop their hands, joining the two cookie children.

“Perfect,” she whispered, then took the candy cane off and mashed the dough to reroll it. She would save the candy cane for Christmas. She
wanted these cookies for her belated Father’s Day celebration, so she rolled a heart and used it to join the children’s hands. On the gingerbread cowboys she put hats and holsters.

She didn’t let herself watch the clock, although by now the rodeo had to be warming up. Annette would love that. Valentine made two small girls and put them together in a wagon-shaped cookie mold, for Nanette and Annette.

Valentine sank onto her stool, looking with pride and a critical eye at her work.

Again, she knew something was missing.

The cowboys were very studly in their hats and holsters, but she hadn’t quite captured their spirit. “Heart,” she whispered, which of course was what the Jeffersons were famous for. Hard grunt-work, loyalty, charm, generosity and
heart.

She carved out twelve tiny hearts. Did she want frosting?

“No, not for you gentlemen,” she said.

Instead she pressed colorful decorations into the dough for eyes and sparkly hat bands. The final flourish would be each man’s name drawn on his cookie, personalized like the stockings that lined the Malfunction Junction stairwell at Christmas.

Hopefully this would be the perfect special
touch for the Father’s Day picnic, to celebrate the men who had made everything possible for her.

They need not ever know that after all their attempts to make her feel like one of them, she never could be. Her broken heart wouldn’t allow it.

T
WO HOURS LATER
, Valentine had finished the baking. Pulling the gingerbread men from the oven, she smiled with satisfaction. Nice and thick, they were perfect for munching.

She decorated each costume differently, drew each cowboy’s name on his or her body, and attached the hearts. Carefully, she put the rather large family in a basket lined with a white lace napkin. The brothers who wouldn’t be attending the picnic would get eaten by everyone else, but she resolved to replicate her idea at Christmas and maybe even refine it.

Banging on the back door behind her made her jump, her heart pounding. Everybody she knew was in Lonely Hearts Station!

“Valentine! It’s Crockett!”

Surprised, she opened the door. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at the rodeo?” she asked as he strode inside the back room.

“I’ve come to get you.” He glanced at her bas
ket. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. You’ve been here all the time?”

She thought about the nude woman she’d found at the main ranch house. “Yes, I’ve been here all the time. Absolutely. This is where my work is.”

He looked at her as if he didn’t believe her, but all he said was, “You need to come to the rodeo.”

“Have you ridden already?”

“No.” He shook his head. “The amusements are in the afternoon. Riding is at night. So come on. You haven’t missed a thing. You can’t work all the time.”

“I really can’t go.” She remembered the kiss she’d asked for, right in this room, and she knew she was safer here, away from Crockett.

“I know what’s bothering you,” Crockett said.

“You do?” Valentine certainly hoped not. If he ever figured out
he
was what was bothering her, she would be so embarrassed.

“Yeah. But you know, you and Marvella have to work things out eventually. You can’t avoid her forever.” He took a deep breath. “I know she didn’t treat you well. But I swear I think she’s trying to change. I really believe her witchy soul might be trying to—are those freshly baked cookies?”

“Yes.” Valentine drew back so he couldn’t see that the cookies bore the names of the Jeffersons.
She didn’t want to spoil the surprise after all her planning!

“They smell fabulous. How about I give you a ride to the rodeo, and you give me one of those cookies?”

His slow and sexy grin unnerved her, making her want to say yes. “No,” she said stubbornly.

“Oh, come on, Valentine,” he said teasingly, approaching her with every intention of grabbing the basket.

“No, Crockett,” she said again, moving clockwise around the pastry table. “These are for someone else.”

“Is it a shut-in?” he asked. “Someone old and feeble who needs cheering up?”

She moved farther as he continued his advance. “No.”

“Then they’ll have to share.” Grabbing playfully for the basket, he almost got it. A cookie popped out and fell to the floor.

Valentine gasped. “Oh, no!” Kneeling down, she reached for the cookie, but Crockett picked it up first.

“I’m sorry, Valentine,” he said, kneeling. “I shouldn’t have been playing around. I was picking at you, thinking if I teased you, you might decide to come with me to the ro—
Crockett,
” he
read as he turned the cookie over and looked at it closely. Glancing up, he looked at her. “This has my name on it.”

Distressed, she nodded. “I know.”

He looked back down at the cookie. “I’m wearing a hat and a holster. For a cookie, I’m pretty cool looking.”

“Yes. And you were wearing this. But now you’re not.” Valentine picked up the now-broken heart that had bounced off, handing two pieces to Crockett.

“Oh, that’s not good,” he said. “My heart is
broken
.”