Gift of Fortune (19 page)

Quint's eyes narrowed. "I'm aware that I only own half
the ranch. You don't need to remind me of that."

Aileen ignored his comment. "But even if I'd told you
about summer school, you probably wouldn't have heard
me."

"When haven't I listened to you?" he demanded.

"I invited you to attend the graduation ceremony with
me. It was last Sunday afternoon. You said you would
come. You didn't. I thought you could spare a couple of
hours. Obviously I was wrong. Everything else is more important."

Quint smacked his forehead. "Aileen, I forgot. One of
the tractors broke down and I just forgot. I am sorry."

"Sometimes sorry isn't enough."

"I know that, but you're wrong about everything else
being more important."

"Really? You could have fooled me."

"Being sarcastic isn't going to help anything."

"Wrong. It helps me feel a little better." She walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To pull some weeds before they take over the garden."
And vent her anger. Looking at him, she asked, "Is there
anything else?"

"Don't be so darned polite. It drives me up the wall."

"I'm glad something makes you notice me, even it it's
in a negative way."

"Oh, I notice you, believe me," Quint said.

"Really?"

"Really. Now, spit it out."

"Spit what out?"

"Whatever is making you so hopping mad at me. I didn't realize it before, but you are nail-spitting furious with me."
Quint shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.
He waited, his temper carefully leashed.

"Really?"

"Aileen, nobody can invest more ladylike sarcasm in the
word `really' than you can. I told you I was sorry I forgot
about the graduation ceremony." His eyes narrowed. "But
I've a hunch this is about something else. What? And if
you say `really' again, I swear I'll let loose with a streak
of words that'll blister your schoolmarm ears."

"All right, you asked for it. We've been married for a
month, and in these four weeks we've been together less
than in any one week before then. What kind of life is
that?"

"There's just so much darn work that needs to be done
right now," he said. That was true, but it was also easier
to be out on the range than in the house near her where he
could be tempted to grab her and kiss her senseless. All
these weeks he'd been waiting for some sign from Aileen
that she was ready to be his wife, but so far she'd remained
as unapproachable as ever. In the meantime, he'd worked
as hard as he could to prove himself to her. "There's a lot
of work," he repeated.

Aileen tossed her hair. "Tell me something I don't know.
But the work isn't going to slow down until November, if
then. So, in the meantime, what do we do? Nod to each
other as we pass in the hall? Grunt a good morning-"

"No, we don't. You want to live like that?"

"If I did, I wouldn't have brought up the subject."

This could be the sign he'd been waiting for. Quint was
sure his palms were sweating. He felt his heart pound in
his chest. Very casually he said, "We need to take some
time off from work."

A voice outside called Quint's name. "The hands are waiting for me, but we'll go to a movie or do something
else this weekend." When she didn't respond, Quint said,
"Aileen, I'm asking you for a date."

Somewhat taken aback, she asked, "Really?"

"It may be a little unusual for a man to ask his wife for
a date, but that's what I'm doing. How about going to a
movie tomorrow night?"

"I'll look in the paper to see what's playing," she said,
trying not to sound overly eager.

Quint smiled at her over his shoulder before he left.

Aileen hummed and executed a little dance step. When
she realized what she was doing, she stopped. They were
only going to a movie. That was no reason to be so happy.
Yet she was.

She sighed. All it took was a smile from Quint and a
promise to spend time with her, and she was willing to
forget all her grievances. Worse, she was willing to overlook that Quint had already forgotten his promise to keep
her up to date on what he was doing.

Aileen shook her head, bemused. Is this what happened
to women when they were strongly attracted to a man?
They turned into pathetic creatures who grew weak at the
sight of their man?

«You're sure there's nothing playing you'd like to
see?" Quint asked as they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.

"I'm positive. The choice is between one of those sickeningly sweet animated films and a slasher movie."

Quint grimaced. "I could sit through the animated movie
if I were taking our children, but not otherwise."

Our children. Aileen's heart skipped a beat. They had
not discussed having children. But then they hadn't discussed much of anything recently.

"What else is there to do? I'm trying to picture the buildings along Main Street. Wasn't there a pool hall a little
south of Ruby's Cafe?"

Aileen nodded. "If you want to play pool, we don't have
to go all the way into town. There's a pool table downstairs."

"Oh yeah? You play?"

"No. Jack thought that pool was strictly a man's game."

"Not very open-minded of Jack," Quint remarked.

"He had fairly immovable opinions on many subjects.
Want to go downstairs and take a look?"

"Sure. Lead the way."

Aileen did. When she turned on the lights, Quint whistled.

"This is some game room," he said, looking around.

Aileen touched the bar. She looked at her hand and
shook her head. "I don't get down here as often as I
should." She grabbed a bar towel and started polishing the
lovely wood.

"Stop that," Quint said. "You've cleaned enough."

"It is a good-looking bar, isn't it? I remember Mom saying that they got it from an old saloon and had it refinished.
The wood's mahogany and the rail is brass. If we ever get
desperate for cash, we could probably sell it for a nice
chunk of change. The pool table too, though I'm no expert
on its quality."

Quint examined the table. "It's solid and well-made. Definitely not cheap." He examined the cue sticks in the rack
on the wall. When he saw the long, narrow case, he whistled again. "Jack's?" he asked.

Aileen nodded. "He never let anyone touch it, or his
sticks."

"He must have been a serious pool player." Quint ran
his finger over the finely-grained leather case.

"He was. He used to invite a bunch of men. They'd
smoke cigars, sip bourbon, and play."

Touching the initials on the case, Quint asked, "Who's
MJB?"

"Martin Jack Bolton. Jack's father. Your grandfather,"
she added softly. He looked startled. And, for a moment,
pleased. Then his green eyes studied the cue stick with far
greater interest than it merited.

"Know anything about him?" he asked, his tone casual.

"Not really. When I asked about him, Jack's face assumed that stony expression that clearly cut off all discussion. Now I wish I'd pressed him to elaborate. I'm sorry,
Quint."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Quint tested one
of Jack's cue sticks.

"Where did you learn to play?" she asked.

"At the Duggans. One of the foster homes I stayed in."

"How old were you at the time?"

"Thirteen, going on fourteen."

"Wasn't that a little young to teach someone how to
shoot pool?"

Quint shrugged. "Mr. Duggan thought I was old enough.
And that I was a natural." Quint paused for a moment.
"Looking back, I realize that he was a hustler. Know what
that is?"

Aileen nodded.

"He taught me to play over the loud objections of his
wife. She maintained that pool was the devil's game.
Worse, it was gambling, one of the cardinal sins in her
opinion." Quint grinned. "Never mind that she played
bingo twice a week. I guess if you did it at the parish hall,
it wasn't gambling."

"You sound as if you liked the Duggans."

"They were okay."

"How long did you stay with them?"

"A little over a year. She got sick, so the child care
people split the kids up and placed us in other foster homes.
I've often wondered what happened to the others."

Aileen kept quiet, not wanting to break into his reminiscences. Quint was sharing his past with her, something he
had never done before unless she questioned him.

"Even after I left the Duggans', I didn't stop playing pool. I played as often as I had the chance and the money,
and the pool hall owner didn't chase me out because I was
too young."

"I suspect you were a little pool shark."

Quint grinned. "How'd you guess? But only until I was
old enough to hold down a job and earn money legitimately."

"But you didn't stop playing then either?"

"No. I enjoy the game. And it's a good way to pass the
time and keep from having to drink too much. You can
nurse a bottle of beer through several games."

"You don't like to drink?"

"Not particularly. It slows down your reaction and your
performance. When you're rodeoing, that's bad." Quint
paused for a moment. With a suggestive grin, he added,
"Drinking also slows down your performance in other activities. Activities I like even more than rodeoing."

When Aileen understood the implications of his statement, she felt warmth creep into her cheeks. To distract
him, she turned on the radio. "Would you like a soft
drink?"

"Not right now. Thanks. Why don't you come over here?
I'll teach you to shoot pool."

"No, thanks. I don't think I'd be very good at it."

"You don't know that till you try. Come on, Aileen."

That soft, coaxing voice drew her like a magnet, even
though she was sure she didn't want to learn to play pool.
She stopped a couple of feet away from him and watched
him test several cue sticks. He handed her one.

"This is how you hold it," Quint instructed, standing behind her and reaching around her with both arms to adjust
the cue.

He was so close that his body pressed lightly against
hers. She felt his breath feather against her temple. She recognized the pine scent of his soap and wondered how a
simple soap could smell so good.

"Relax your grip, Aileen."

She tried, but her fingers seemed to be glued to the stick.

"You smell sweet, like caramel."

"You like caramel? I saw a recipe for caramel custard
recently. Maybe I'll try fixing it one day."

"I do like caramel," he murmured. "Love the way it
smells." And fate had given him a wife who smelled like
that. He couldn't stop himself from pulling her closer.

"You're so tense," Quint murmured. "Relax."

Relax? How could she relax when his nearness made her
knees shake? She had longed to be with Quint, but to talk,
to get to know him, not to have her senses reel and her
body grow weak. Aileen let go of the cue and ducked under
Quint's arm. Quickly she moved several feet away.

"I don't think I can learn to play pool."

"Why not? It's not that hard."

"I'm not good at playing games."

"You also said you weren't good at dancing, and look
at you now. Your moves take my breath away." Quint took
her arm and pulled her against him again. "Turn around,"
he ordered. When she did, he placed her hand on the cue
stick and his hand on hers.

Once again Aileen found herself imprisoned in his arms.

"You have a lot of undiscovered talents and abilities,"
he murmured.

"You think so?" Aileen's voice sounded throaty. She
couldn't seem to breathe properly.

"The way you respond to music convinces me you'd
respond as intensely with your other senses. You don't believe me?"

Aileen shrugged.

"Let's try an experiment." Quint took the cue stick from
her hand and turned her to face him.

Aileen tried to put a little distance between them, but he
had her trapped against the pool table.

"Close your eyes," Quint instructed.

"Why?"

"It's part of the experiment. Trust me." Seeing the wariness on her face, he realized that she probably wasn't comfortable with or used to being touched by men. She'd
admitted to not having dated much in the past year or so,
and Jack, he guessed, hadn't been a toucher. Gently he said,
"I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you."

She looked searchingly into his eyes. Then she nodded.

"Touch my face," he said softly. When she hesitated, he
raised her hand to his cheek. "What do you feel?"

"Your skin. It's warm. Your beard's a little prickly, but,
oddly enough, it's sort of a pleasing sensation," she added,
surprised.

"Touch my hair."

Aileen had been wanting to do just that since she
couldn't remember when. At first she touched his hair only
with her fingertips. Then, boldly, she buried both hands in
the black mane. His hair was thick and coarsely silken.
"This feels good," she murmured.

Did it ever. Her caressing hands made Quint shiver.