The Cowboy Rescues a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek) (15 page)

It galled him that a man could ride a horse, help oversee a ranch, build and repair all kinds of equipment, predict the weather from natural signs, and do most any chore on a large cattle spread and all anyone judged him by was his inability to decipher the printed word. He’d worked hard to make up for that one little deficiency and still it seemed to define him. No wonder he was quick-tempered.

Fila had a beautiful voice and he could tell she liked the story, too. She sped up in the action parts and grew angry whenever Buck the dog was hard done by. Which was often. He had a feeling she identified with that dog as much as he did. Finally, she cleared her throat. “I have to stop. I’m losing my voice.”

Ned nodded, his body tensing. Here’s where most people would ask him to take over and read aloud. He had a hunch that Fila had figured out his problem, but he wasn’t sure. He figured he’d find out now.

“Time for bed,” she said, surprising him. He checked his watch. Had it really gotten that late? “Do you want a snack first? Some more soup?”

“I’m fine. I could use more of that pain reliever, though.”

She went and fetched the bottle of pills and a fresh glass of water, then watched him wash down two.

“I’ll sleep in the other room.”

Ned shook his head. “The bunk room? You’ll freeze to death in there. No way. You’ll sleep right here with me, so I know you’re safe. We’ll help keep each other warm.”

She shook her head quickly. “I couldn’t.”

“Look, I’m no danger to you.” He pointed to his leg.

She hesitated a long moment. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“You had your own room in Afghanistan?”

“No. But I never slept alone with a man, either.”

“Fila, I get it—you’re right, normally it wouldn’t be a good idea. I might take advantage of the situation.” He flashed her a wolfish grin. “But not tonight. Not like this.”

She cocked her head. “You’d…take advantage?”

A smile twitched his lips. “You’d better believe it. I’d chase you all over this cabin if I had to.”

She ducked her head, hiding her own smile. “I run very fast.”

“Not as fast as me, I bet.”

“I bet I am.”

When she peeped up at him, her eyes were dancing with humor. Ned felt a rush of tenderness. “I’ll race you any time. As soon as my leg heals up.”

“All right,” she said softly.

“All right?”

“I’ll sleep here tonight.”

He squashed the urge to whoop with the victory. He doubted he’d get any sleep himself between the pain in his leg and the knowledge she was so close, but it was worth it to have her near. He could listen to her breathing and smell the scent of her soap. He could dream, too, of a time when her fear was gone. When they could meet as man and woman without the past standing between them.

He struggled to the washroom again, then settled himself on the bed as comfortably as he could. Fila fluttered around him, doing all she could to help until he waved her away. “There should be a flashlight under your side of the bed. We try to keep them stocked.”

“I found it,” she said a moment later. She disappeared into the bathroom and came out some minutes later in a pair of yoga pants and a fleecy top. He was glad to see she had something warm to sleep in, although he’d vastly prefer it if nothing lay between them. He’d keep her real warm, then.

As Fila climbed carefully between the covers next to him on the opposite side from his hurt leg, the movement of the bed jostled him and set it to aching again. But when her shoulder rubbed up against his, the shock of the contact banished all thoughts of pain from his head. She quickly scooted away, making sure to leave several inches between them.

“It’s all right to come closer,” he said, although he knew she wouldn’t. “I don’t bite.”

“You might.” She peeped up at him from underneath the covers when he turned his head. Only her eyes were visible, but he was pretty sure she was smiling under there.

He smiled back. “You’re right; I might. If I could reach you. But I can’t. And it’s cold. Come over here.”

To his surprise, she did as she was told. Inching closer to him, she turned on her side and curled against him. He could smell the citrus scent of her shampoo, and feel her fingers wrapped around his bicep. Her soft, warm presence against him was heavenly, and his body began to react to it in predictable ways.

Ned shifted uncomfortably.

Fila peeped up at him again. “Go to sleep.”

Ned chuckled. That wasn’t likely. Not with a beautiful young woman so close at hand, yet so unattainable. A long pause ensued, broken only by their breathing. Ned began to feel that this night might be more uncomfortable than he thought, when Fila finally broke the silence.

“What are your plans, Ned? Everyone always asks me about mine.”

His plans? They’d changed since she’d entered his life. Before then he’d figured he’d make his way through the world alone, since his relationships with women had always been short and unsatisfactory. Now he knew he’d never be happy without Fila by his side. “My dreams are simple. I want to run my family’s ranch. I want to find a wife. I want to raise a family, maybe.”

“What kind of wife?” She buried her face against his arm.

“A beautiful one who’ll cook
bolani
for me morning, noon and night.”

She stilled. Moved away from him. “I can’t be anyone’s wife, Ned.”

“Why not?” He wanted to scoot across the bed after her, but he couldn’t—not with this damn leg.

“Because I’m not… whole. I’m no good.”

Ned let out a huff of air. “Fila, I’ve been told I’m no good practically all my life. I’ve decided not to believe it anymore. Maybe you should try it.”

She stiffened. “You’re good!”

“You’re about the only one who thinks so. Everyone else thinks I’m a mess.”

“They don’t know you.”

“And you do?”

She nodded her head vigorously.

“Well, I think I know you as well as you do me, and I say you’re good, too. You’re a little mixed up, a little overwhelmed with coming home, but that’s all. You’d do just fine if you relaxed a little.”

“You mean if I opened a restaurant so I could earn lots of money.”

Ned was taken aback by the censure in her voice. “I don’t know about earning lots of money—the restaurant business is tricky—but enough so you have some choices. Fila, I think you should find out what you like to do best and pursue it. Maybe that’s running a restaurant, maybe it isn’t. You’re scared now, but you won’t always be. You’re strong. Strong women don’t stay down for long.”

“What if I don’t get better?”

“You have to. I need you.” Time to lay it all out for her. “I’m not going to push you, but someday I’m going to ask you to marry me. You’d better be prepared to say yes.”

She turned away from him, and he thought he’d angered her, but she scooted closer until her backside pressed against him. “I’m not ever getting married.”

“We’ll see about that.”

‡
Chapter 18

T
he next morning
passed as slow as molasses for Ned. He’d slept fitfully through the night, waking several times to listen to Fila’s quiet breathing. He was touched that she trusted him enough to sleep so soundly. He wished that he could do the same. He was worried about the roof, though. Worried about Fila, too. What if she fell when she was shoveling? What if she hurt herself?

He’d never forgive himself then.

When Fila got up, she slid shyly out of bed, disappeared into the bathroom to change and brought a plate of breakfast to him some minutes later, but declined to sit and eat with him. Instead, she ate quickly in the kitchen and dressed in her warm outer gear in preparation to climb back on the roof. He listened to her chipping away at the ice up there for the rest of the morning, trying hard to be grateful that all was going so well, but as time passed at a glacial pace he found it hard not to slide into grim thoughts. What would happen when they returned to the ranch? Would Fila’s newfound confidence stick? Would Holt throw them out?

He wasn’t prepared to think about that last question.

Fila took one look at him when she came in at lunchtime and went right back out to the living room to gather two or three hunting magazines and place them in his lap.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” Ned’s voice was gruffer than he meant it to be.

“Look at the pictures. It’s better than nothing.”

He set them aside. “Don’t you need a break? You could read to me.”

She nodded. “But I can’t stay too long. I’m not even close to done with this half of the roof.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m used to hard work.” But she picked up the novel and Ned’s mood improved. At least the story helped to pass the time. His leg’s dull ache wasn’t anything for him to gripe about—it was his own damn fault he’d broken it—but the silence and forced idleness were beginning to take its toll.

“Did you ever have a dog?” he thought to ask her.

“Of my own? No.” The idea seemed to surprise her. “In the village they weren’t pets. They were for protection. They were always hungry…” She trailed off and he got the picture.

“That’s a shame.” Stuck in the cabin alone, he missed Boomer more than he cared to admit. It was probably time to get a new pet. He’d have to check out the Chance Creek Animal Shelter when he was back on his feet.

He sat back and listened to Fila read for twenty minutes. All too soon, she shut the book and placed it on the bed.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to. That roof won’t shovel itself.”

He knew it was important that she relieve the weight up there, but he didn’t relish being alone again.

“Fila?”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

Her eyebrows shot up and her face flushed. Ned grabbed her hand before she could dash from the room.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?”

Her color heightened. She kept her gaze on the floor, her long, lush eyelashes fanning against her cheeks. After a moment she nodded her head.

“Come here, then.”

She bent closer. Ned shifted to meet her and they kissed. Softly at first—he didn’t want to scare her—but as the seconds passed, he turned up the heat. Sliding a hand up behind her head, he asked more of her, moving his mouth over hers, nipping at her lips, finally pressing for entry with his tongue.

She gasped and pulled back. He let her go. Waited.

A few moments later she was back for more.

It wasn’t the most comfortable position and after a minute or two, Ned’s leg began to ache again. He didn’t care. He’d put up with almost anything if it meant this sweet torture would carry on. Finally, breathless, they pulled apart. Fila ducked her head, but he cupped her chin and lifted it until her gaze met his.

“I like you, Fila Sahar.”

A smile broke over her face like a radiant dawn. “I like you, too.”

He sealed the moment with a quick final kiss. “You’d better get back to it. Wish I could help.”

She nodded and slipped from the room.

She’d kissed Ned.
Really kissed him—not just an innocent kiss on the cheek. She’d kissed him like a woman in love kissed a man.

She wanted to do it again.

Fila cradled the new, exciting feeling to her chest as she wrapped up in layers and braved the cold again. Climbing up to the roof, she surveyed the area she’d already cleared, and the much greater expanse of roof still to go. She’d shoveled about two-thirds of the side of the roof that covered the bedrooms and kitchen, but there was still a third to do, and then all of the side that covered the open living room area. The thought of all the work ahead left her almost too tired to get started.

As she got to it, she replayed the kiss again and again, her whole body tingling in delightful ways. In frightening ways, too. She had to constantly remind herself that here in America it was fine for her to feel this way about Ned.

At least according to everyone except Holt. He wouldn’t approve.

Was there anything she could do to change his mind? Dye her hair blond, maybe?

She smiled despite the seriousness of the question. That probably wouldn’t work, but somehow she had to convert Holt to her side, because she didn’t want to make Ned unhappy, which he would be if he was forced to choose between them.

And she didn’t mean to give him up, either.

She turned the question around in her mind over and over again as she chipped away at the ice and snow. Should she concentrate on being more American? Dressing like the others? Mimicking the way they talked and moved? Learning everything she could about the ranch? Asking Lisa to teach her to cook all his favorite meals?

Would her restaurant be a constant source of irritation to Holt if she served Afghan food? Should she turn it into a steak house?

No—then she’d compete directly with DelMonaco’s. Besides, she had no idea how to cook steaks. Afghan food was her specialty.

She shook her head. She’d just spent a decade conforming to a group of men’s ideas about ideal womanhood. She hadn’t escaped just to come here and do the same thing all over again. She’d do what she could to build peace between herself and Holt, but she wouldn’t change for him.