The Buckhorn Brothers Box Set: Sawyer\Morgan\Gabe\Jordan (29 page)

Misty had no idea if he was angry with her or the situation. She tried to shrug his hands away, but he held on. Her temper was still simmering, though, and she was in no mood for his attitude, so she jerked away and then sat on the swing, giving a hard kick to make it move. Morgan grabbed the swing to stop it and sat beside her. “I’m waiting.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts. He made her feel vulnerable and defensive when she had no reason to feel either one. “Not long after I found out I was pregnant and Kent, my ex, bailed out, I was at work and the cash came up short. The woman who’d worked before me had signed out and made her deposit, so the money had to have been taken during my shift. Only I didn’t take it and I don’t know where it went. I was in the bathroom—” She glanced at him. “Pregnant women spend a lot of time in the bathroom.”

He made a face. “Go on.”

“Anyway, there was no one in the store, so I made a quick run to the bathroom, and when I came back out, my boss and his girlfriend were just coming in. He was royally ticked that I’d left the counter, even after I explained that the store was empty and that I’d hurried. We argued, because he said I’d missed too much work lately, as well. See, I’d come in late twice, because of the morning sickness. Anyway, he was in a foul mood and being unreasonable, to my mind. I’d never been late or missed work before. Not ever. That’s why he was going to make me a manager of the new store, because I was a good worker and dependable and all that.”

“Get to the point, Malone.”

She wanted to smack him. Instead, she said, “He checked the drawer and found out the money was missing. I still can’t believe he accused me of stealing it. I’d been working for him for two years. I did everything, from inventory to decorations to promotion to sales to orders. I’m the one that helped that business do so well! I thought he trusted me.”

“He called the cops?”

“Yes.” The police had arrived, and she now knew firsthand the procedure used for thiefs. She shuddered with the memory, which wasn’t one she intended to share with Morgan. “To make a long story short, the lawyer I hired said they had a good case against me. I was the only one in the store at the time the money was taken, and they found out I was pregnant, that the father of the baby had taken off. They painted me a desperate woman, with plenty of motive to take the money. He suggested I plead guilty to save myself a bundle in lawyer fees and court costs. I…I refused. So my lawyer suggested that I go with a trial to the bench, since that would get it over with quickly.”

“I gather that wasn’t the best decision possible?”

She shook her head. “A jury might not have been so autocratic or sexist.”

“Sexist?”

“Yes. The judge was a stern-faced old relic who saw me as a femme fatale just because I’m young and I don’t exactly look like a college professor.”

One brow shot up, and his mouth quirked. “You mean because you’re sexy as hell and he noticed?”

“That’s not funny, Morgan.”

“No, it’s not. Sorry.”

He still looked amused, though, which annoyed her no end. The judge’s reaction to her had been salt in the wound. She could still remember how exposed she’d felt, standing before him.

She looked away and said quietly, “He gave me six months probation, made me pay back the three hundred dollars I hadn’t even taken, as well as court costs and legal fees, then finished up with a scathing lecture about my responsibilities and morals and hoping I’d learned my lesson.” She snorted. “The lesson I learned was that men see things one way, which is seldom the right or honorable way, and they sure as hell can’t be trusted.”

“Misty…”

“Don’t use that tone on me, Morgan Hudson. You got what you wanted, all the nitty-gritty details. Well, now I’m done. I want to get out of here. I need to go find a job, and I’m just plain not up to fighting with you anymore, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“No.”

“No?”
Incredulous, she turned to face him. “What do you mean, no?”

He stood, then caught her arm and pulled her to her feet. Still holding her, his gaze intent on her face, he said softly, “I mean you’re not going anywhere, Malone. You’re going to stay right here.”

4

M
ORGAN STARED
at Misty, knowing that despite her outraged frown, there was no way he could let her go, not now. Her shoulders felt narrow and frail beneath his big hands, and he wished like hell she looked pregnant, so she’d be easier to resist. But she didn’t. She looked soft and sexy, even with a red nose and those hideous glasses. He wanted her more than ever, but that was beside the point.

At least she wasn’t planning on getting married. Though it wasn’t any of his damn business, the very idea had set his teeth on edge. She could certainly do better than settling for some clown who didn’t want his own child. He swore to himself that was the only reason it bothered him. Then he called himself a fool.

“You can’t be off on your own right now. You said it yourself, you don’t have a job, and you’re sick.”

She gave him a blank stare, as if he was a stranger.

“Damn it, Misty, you know I’m right!”

“I know you’re nuts, that’s what I know.” He made a grumbling sound, and she said in exasperation, “It’s morning sickness, Morgan, that’s all. I’m fine the rest of the time. I’m perfectly capable of finding and working a job. Pregnant woman do it all the time, you know.”

Actually, his mind was buzzing with possibilities. If she stayed—and she would because he didn’t intend to give her a choice—he could give her a job. He’d long since figured they needed someone to answer the phones at the office, but more often than not folks just called him directly. It was a small county, and the crime level was amazingly low, so he’d been in no rush to hire a new deputy. But a secretary of sorts, someone to keep track of his schedule and forward calls and take notes, that’d be a blessing.

He’d put off the hiring for some time now. He hadn’t really wanted anyone else mucking around his offices. But now…

He eyed her belligerent expression and winced. Better to tell her about the job later, when she wasn’t so annoyed with him. He gave her a slight shake. “So what do you intend to do?”

“I intend to punch you in the nose if you don’t stop manhandling me!”

His fingers flexed on her shoulders, very gently, and he saw her eyes darken. He hadn’t hurt her, would never deliberately hurt her. No, her complaint was for an entirely different reason. “Manhandling, huh?” he asked softly. “And here I thought I was being all that was considerate and caring.”

She bit her lip in indecision, then resolutely shook her head. “Not likely, Morgan. You’re up to something, I just haven’t figured out what yet.”

Her opinion of him was far from flattering, with good reason, he supposed. He dropped his hands and turned to think, only to hear her stomping away. He caught the back of her robe and drew her up short. “Whoa. Now where are you off to? We have to finish discussing this.”

Through gritted teeth, she said, “There’s no
we
to it, and there’s nothing to discuss.” She swatted his hands away and jutted her chin toward him. “I’m going in to shower and dress, and then I’m leaving. You won’t have to worry about me at all, and your precious brothers will be safe from my lascivious tendencies.”

Damn it, she was trying to make him feel guilty—and succeeding. “You let me think the worst about that, Malone. Admit it.”

“You always assume the worst,” she argued. “I’m not responsible for the way your mind works.”

“No, you’re not. But in a way, it is your fault.” She looked ready to erupt, so he added, “I get around you, Malone, and I can barely think at all, much less with any logic. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got the hots for you in a really bad way.”

Her face went blank for a split second, and he braced himself for an attack. Then suddenly her mouth twitched, and she burst out laughing. “Is that your way of saying you’re sorry?”

Hearing her laugh was nice, even if she was laughing at him. “I suppose you think I owe you that much?”

“Nope.” Her glasses slid down her nose and more hair escaped the rubber band. She looked disheveled and vulnerable and so damn female he felt rigid from his neck all the way down to his toes. “I don’t think you owe me a darn thing, Morgan, except to butt out of my business.”

Shrugging in apology, he whispered, “I can’t do that.”

“You,” she said with emphasis, “have no choice in the matter.”

“I can help you, Malone.”

“You want to help?” She turned away from him, then said over her shoulder, “Leave me be.”

Why, Morgan wondered as she stalked away, would she steal money from an employer, but not take money from him when it was freely offered? Especially considering the situation she was in. And not only had she refused the money, she’d been downright livid over the idea. Somehow it didn’t fit, and he damn well intended to find out what was going on.

Later. Right now he was busy plotting. She had turned down the money, but maybe she’d accept his help in other ways once he talked her into staying. He wasn’t raised to turn his back on a woman in her predicament, especially considering that she
was
part of the family. Whether she liked it or not, that excuse was good enough for him.

He picked up the coffee mugs and her empty juice glass, then headed into the kitchen. He had a few things to take care of before she finished showering, so he might as well get to them. First was that ragtag little car of hers. Removing a few spark plugs ought to do the trick. Getting his brothers out of bed would be a little harder, considering the night they’d all had, but they would rally together for a good cause, and he definitely considered Misty Malone a good cause. Given how all his brothers had doted on her the past couple of weeks, he had no doubt they’d feel the same.

Twenty minutes later, Morgan was sitting at the kitchen table with a bleary-eyed Casey when Misty walked in. The others hadn’t quite made it that far yet, but Morgan knew they’d present themselves shortly.

Casey, with his head propped in his hand, glanced at her and yawned. “Morning, Misty. What’re you doing up so early?”

Misty stopped dead in her tracks. Her hair was freshly brushed and twisted into a tidy knot on the top of her head that Morgan thought made her look romantic and amazingly innocent. Her glasses were gone—thank God—and she no longer had a red nose. She wore a yellow cotton camisole with cutoff shorts and strappy little sandals and she looked good enough to eat.

Morgan drew in a shuddering breath with that image and steered his wayward thoughts off the erotic and onto the essential.

Rather than answer Casey, her accusing gaze swung toward Morgan and there was murder in her eyes. He grinned. He’d rather have her fighting mad than looking morose any day. Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, Morgan said, “What’s with the suitcase, Malone?”

Casey, who hadn’t noticed the luggage yet, sat up straight. His gaze bounced back and forth several times between the suitcase and Misty’s face, and he looked more alert than he had only five seconds ago. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

Misty ground her teeth, then whipped around to face Casey with a falsely bright smile plastered in place. “’Fraid so, kiddo. I have things to do. But I did enjoy my visit. Tell your dad thanks for me, okay?”

She started to move, but Casey jumped up, looking panicked, and all but blocked her way. “But Dad’ll kill me if you leave without saying goodbye! I mean, Honey will be upset and that’ll upset Dad. Just hang around for breakfast, okay?” He glanced at Morgan for backup. “Tell her, Uncle Morgan. Shouldn’t she stay and have breakfast?”

Morgan nodded slowly. “I do believe you’re right, Casey.”

“Ah, no…It’s better if I—”

The kitchen door swung open and Jordan dragged himself in. He was wearing a pair of unsnapped jeans and scratching his belly while yawning hugely. His hair was still mussed and he looked like he could have used another six hours of sleep, at least. The last Morgan had seen him last night, three of the local women were trying to talk him into taking each of them home. It was a hell of a predicament for his most reserved brother.

Morgan had not one whit of sympathy for him.

Because Jordan had taken the path from the garage—where he kept his apartment—to the kitchen, the bottoms of his feet were wet. When he saw Misty packed up and ready to go, he nearly slipped on the linoleum floor in his surprise.

Morgan caught him, then pushed him upright. If Jordan knocked himself out, he’d be no help at all.

In his usual mellow tones, Jordan asked, “What’s going on here?” He dried his feet on a throw rug while quietly studying everyone in turn.

Morgan feigned a casual shrug. “Misty says she’s leaving.”

Casey crossed his arms, ready to add his two cents’ worth. “She’s not even going to tell anyone goodbye.”

Looking from Casey’s disapproving face to Misty’s red cheeks before finally meeting Morgan’s gaze, Jordan frowned. Not a threatening frown, as Morgan favored, but rather a contemplative one. Jordan was no dummy and caught on quickly that this was the reason he’d been summoned from his bed. He fastened his jeans now that he knew there was a lady present, then took several cautious steps forward, making certain not to slip again. Holding Misty’s shoulders, he asked softly, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why are you sneaking off like this?”

Morgan didn’t like his brother’s intimate tone at all. And he sure as hell didn’t like Jordan touching her. He glowered at Misty as he said, “I don’t think she wanted anyone to know she was going.”

Jordan glanced at Morgan, then crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Misty with quiet speculation. “Is that true?”

After a long, drawn out sigh, Misty dropped her heavy bag and propped her hands on her hips. “I’m not sneaking, exactly. You all knew I was going to be leaving today.”

Gabe spoke from the doorway where he’d negligently propped himself, unnoticed. “Not true.” He gave Morgan a look, then came into the kitchen and dropped into a chair with a theatrical yawn. He, too, was bare-chested, but he wore loose cotton pull-on pants. “You said you couldn’t stay, Misty, but you didn’t say a damn thing about taking off today at six-thirty in the morning. Hell, the birds aren’t even awake yet, so I’d definitely call that sneaking. What’s up, sweetheart?”