The Cowboy Who Caught Her Eye (11 page)

Having her depend on another man stirred something dark inside him. “Strangers shouldn’t be trusted,” he said, plucking out the ax again.

“Like you?”

That stung, but he ignored it. He’d never planned for the future before, not like this, and he was still struggling with the part of him that said he had to. “Go back inside, Molly, I’ve got work to do.”

She crossed her arms. “You don’t have to get grumpy. I was just trying to be nice.”

If he’d been in a better mood, he might have grinned. Molly trying to be nice took a considerable amount of effort on her part. “Thank you,” he said, acknowledging her attempt. “Now go back inside.”

“No.”

Lord, she was exasperating, and had the uncanny ability to rile him like no other. Truth was, Wilcox had started it, poking at Carter’s temper by telling him all the help he was giving the Thorson sisters wasn’t necessary to catch the robber. The man had been downright offensive when it came to Ivy going to school. Had the gall to say Carter was taking this case too far, sticking his nose in things he didn’t need to be concerned about. At that point, he’d wanted to flatten Wilcox’s nose, but he hadn’t. Only because he never let anyone know what he was thinking. Ever. A kid on the street learns that early on—though he had flattened a few noses since then. A Pinkerton man was allowed to do that every now and again. That was another part of the job he never minded.

“I said no,” she declared with a contemptuous edge.

He was already about as sour as last week’s milk, and her snippy attitude was only adding to it. Taking her over his knee and paddling her backside wasn’t a bad idea, but he doubted it would stop the urge to kiss her that was pestering him good and strong again.

She spun around and headed toward the barn. If he had half a mind, he’d let her go, but that was his trouble lately—he only had half a mind. Evidently the intelligent side had quit working, so he dropped the ax and took pursuit, having no doubt she was out to defy him.

Sure enough, that was her plan. He found her pulling the hoe from the rack. “I told you, it’s too hot to work in the garden right now.” The sweat pouring down his back should tell her that.

“It’s my garden.”

“I don’t care whose garden it is.” He wrenched the hoe out of her hand. “You’re not working in this sun.”

He foiled her attempt to snatch the hoe from his hold with one quick step. Glaring, she asked, “What does it matter to you?”

Carter couldn’t rightly say why it mattered so much to him, but it did, and that was about as comforting as getting bucked off a horse and landing next to a den of snakes. Rattlesnakes. He hated those critters. Never imagined one would ever grow on him, but stranger things had happened. Like how this woman had grown on him. He’d been trying to escape that truth, but couldn’t any longer. All three Thorson sisters had grown on him, and the odd thing was, they weren’t as scary and hazardous as he’d once imagined. Women and kids, that is.

Molly Thorson, on the other hand, was dangerous, he had to admit that, but in a completely different way. This itch to kiss her was getting treacherous in its own right, too. The attraction he felt toward her amplified as she stood there staring at him as though he was a notorious scoundrel. He was a scoundrel, all right, and was damn close to showing her.

Carter swung around and hung the hoe back in its place. “Get in the house, Molly.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not a child.”

He thought about ignoring her, but that was akin to disregarding the speed of a flash flood. You couldn’t outrun them, either. “Then quit acting like one.”

“I’m not acting like one, you are.”

He’d compared their little standoffs to that before, which was ironic considering it had been a long time since he’d been a kid.

“Give me the hoe, Carter,” she insisted while trying to dislodge the handle he still held, though the end of the tool was hooked on the rack.

He refused to relinquish his hold, which had her tugging harder while pushing at his chest with her other hand.

“I mean it, Carter.”

Her words were sharp enough to blister and despite all else, he once again wanted to grin. He didn’t. Instead he stuck to his original reasoning. “It’s hot out there.” An authentic pang let loose inside him then. “Do you want to faint again?”

“I’m not going to faint again.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

Her eyes were snapping like flames. Things were flaring hot and fast inside him, too, though Carter wouldn’t necessarily say it was his temper. He and Molly were in the corner of the barn, with little space between them, or for that matter, around them, and their miniature scuffle was stirring up enough dust to have little motes dancing in the sunlight sneaking between the wooden planks. She was so fascinatingly beautiful. Those sparking eyes, which had turned a much darker blue in the dim light, the delicate brows above them, and her mouth with lips that suggested they were as fragile as butterfly wings, even while pinched tightly together.

The gentle fragrance that always accompanied her was teasing his senses, too. She smelled like flowers, sunshine and cinnamon all rolled into one.

With a stomp of one foot, she demanded, “Give me the hoe, Carter.” Tugging on the handle harder, she continued, “It’s none of your concern whether I work in the garden or not. It’s my garden and it’s my hoe, and I’ll do what I want, when I want. None of it is any of your business. Matter of fact, nothing around here is any of your business.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so.”

Exasperating, that’s what Molly Thorson was. Downright exasperating and so adorable when she had her dander up, he could hardly take it anymore.
Hardly
wasn’t the word. He’d reached his limit. Grabbing both her shoulders, he planted his lips against hers.

Carter wasn’t completely a stranger to kissing a woman. There were one or two he sought out on occasion back in Chicago. Brothel women. At a time when he’d wanted a homecoming of sorts, after a long assignment. But that wasn’t how he kissed Molly. Her lips were too soft and tender for hot, rough kisses. They needed gentle coaxing to come to life beneath his. So that’s what he did, until, all petal-soft and warm, they parted slightly, and her breath mingled with his. The sensation was like none other. It warmed his blood and shot a thrill clear to his boots.

He tilted his head, to taste her more fully, and when her shoulders slackened, his arms slid around to her back, pulled her closer.

Her body slid against his, from chest to hips, as she wrapped her arms around his waist and returned his kiss with lips that met his over and over again. His blood let loose, throbbed hard and fast throughout his body. She was by far the sweetest treat he’d ever tasted, and when the tip of her tongue met his, he opened his mouth, capturing hers to fully explore and savor.

The connection was just shy of soul-shattering, and he cradled her face with both hands, held her as the kiss deepened, expanded until it consumed him fully. It was as if the kiss was a journey—he was remembering and forgetting things at the same time, mere flashes that all merge into one destination. Molly.

Breathless, Carter pulled back, thrilled and, he had to confess, a bit unsure. He let her loose and stepped away. Montana was his destination. His future.

Molly covered her mouth with one hand and the fear he saw flash across her face all but gutted him. She spun then, and ran, leaving him standing in the barn, the heel that he was. He’d done a lot of things in his life, but this one he may never be able to forgive himself. Molly was in a precarious position, and the last thing she needed was him taking advantage of her.

She was precious and fragile, too, and he had no idea how to treat a woman like that.

With fury now directed at himself, Carter left the barn and returned to the trees he’d hauled in. There he put his anger to good use. He let it swing the ax, chop the wood into logs he then split and stacked inside the woodshed. This he knew how to do.

The sun was hot, the air in his lungs hotter and heavier than ever, but Carter didn’t slow, nor did he let his mind wander, until Ivy brought him out lunch a short time later, which he ate. The child chatted—something about her new dress and naming the dog Bear or Bob or Tom. Carter wasn’t actually listening, so he truly didn’t know what names she said, but nodded an approval. His eyes and mind were on the house. While at the railroad this morning, he’d learned the woman with all those kids had left the hotel, which meant there were several rooms available.

He really should go rent one.

Chapter Eight

H
iding in her room degrading herself hadn’t done any more good today than it had for the past five months, so Molly left the bedroom with its walls that seemed overly suffocating, came downstairs, prepared lunch and then sent Karleen off to read a book. The store was slow, only a trickle of customers needed minimal things, and Molly sewed in between waiting on them. And thought.

Oh, yes, she thought.

She’d made a huge mistake five months ago, but today it seemed larger. Not because of her condition, but because of Carter. She’d spoiled her chances of ever having a life that might include a husband, a man she could build a future with—and sadly, kissing Carter had given her a glimpse of how wonderful that might have been. For those few moments, being in his arms, she’d forgotten how dismal the world seemed. There, kissing him, everything had been beautiful, wonderful. She’d found happiness. Inside, where it really mattered. Where it came from.

It had been a long time, so she was a bit surprised she remembered how it felt to be happy, but she had, and she’d have given everything to have stayed right there, in Carter’s arms. She would still be there if he hadn’t pulled away, and looked at her with such shock on his face.

That’s what had gotten to her. Carter rarely let his emotions show, but he hadn’t been able to veil his reaction when he’d broken away from their kiss.

Molly buried her face in the green-and-white-striped material. Carter had been disgusted, utterly revolted by her and her behavior. She’d been shocked, too, by how she’d reacted to him. After what had happened with Robbie, she’d never imagined getting close enough to touch another man, let alone kiss one.

Kissing Carter had been so different. So wonderful and so right, she didn’t regret it. She’d wanted him to kiss her for a while now, but had refused to acknowledge it. Even to herself.

She didn’t want to admit it now, either. Because she didn’t want to admit she was that kind of woman. For months she’d claimed to herself that what had happened with Robbie should never have happened. That it would never happen again. But her reaction to Carter suggested otherwise.

The attraction she felt toward Carter the past few days went against everything she proclaimed to hate. Watching him swing the ax, chop away at the wood, had made her want to have him hold her. Kiss her. No good could come of it, but that didn’t stop her from wanting, and wishing once again that things were different.

The baby moved, but Molly wasn’t surprised by the tiny flutter. The little life inside her seemed to know just when she needed to be comforted. She’d grown used to the reassurance the baby provided, but ultimately she should be the one doing the reassuring. That was a parent’s job. And she was the only parent this little person would ever have.

Molly pulled the material away from her face and started stitching again while trying to stop the memories, but they came forward anyway.

It had been cold and gloomy that morning, but so had most of the days before it. March was like that, unpredictable. Anything from a blizzard to summer heat wasn’t out of the ordinary. Nuisances, that’s what that day had brought. Random dilemmas that had pitched her in all directions.

The first one of the day had been the chimney. After months of nonstop fires, creosote had built up in the flue, and smoke had filled the house as soon as she’d started a fire in the big parlor stove that heated the store. Karleen had panicked, claiming the place was on fire, and when Molly had assured her it wasn’t, Karleen started complaining about the smell, how all their party dresses would be ruined.

Molly had been more worried about the merchandise then, and said so. She’d also known what needed to be done, just had been unsure how to do it. Eventually she’d climbed onto the roof and dropped the chimney sweep down, knocking the crusty buildup off the inner walls of the chimney. After that she’d had to clean out the stovepipes. Karleen had helped, though she was busy with customers, whose main gripe had been the fact there weren’t any cinnamon rolls being sold that day.

She’d just got everything cleaned up, including herself, when Ivy, who’d honestly been trying to help, announced she’d accidentally left the barn door open. Molly had left then to go retrieve the milk cows, which were miles away, and she got thoroughly drenched by the rain that had started to fall shortly after she left the house. Things hadn’t gotten any better upon her return, and in hindsight—if she’d had the opportunity to relive that day—she’d never have opened the store, just gone to help her friend prepare for her wedding.

That had been the plan. She was supposed to be at Emma’s by noon, to help with the preparations, but at noon, she’d been trudging through mud up to her ankles, leading two stubborn cows home to where a plethora of other minor disasters had happened. Little things really, but major that day. A mouse in the storage room, which had caused Karleen to uproot crates and boxes, a customer whose order hadn’t arrived—nothing new in that—and a meal Ivy tried to cook for all of them burnt so badly Molly had thought the house was on fire when she left the barn after securing the cows in their stalls.

To make matters worse, Karleen was fit to be tied. Emma had sent her brother J.T. down to ask where Molly was numerous times throughout the day, which had Karleen claiming Molly was just trying to keep her from dancing with J.T. at the wedding celebration.

She hadn’t been. The thought of dancing, of enjoying the evening, had been the only thing that had kept her sane. They’d needed the joy of a wedding. That very day had marked the second anniversary of their parents’ death.

Eventually, once everything was cleaned up and the last customer out the door, she’d finally hung the closed sign in the window and they’d all dressed for the wedding. It had been then, when they’d walked out the front door, ready to attend the festivities, that Molly had never felt so thwarted in her life. It was her birthday—that hadn’t mattered much until later, when she was all alone—her best friend’s wedding—which she’d missed—but the final blow had been what she’d discovered sitting in front of the barn. Boxes and barrels and crates and bags. All the freight that hadn’t arrived over the past month.

Unable to stand the tears on her sisters’ faces, she’d sent them to the church, claiming she’d have everything put away in time to join them at the hotel for the dance. She’d known she’d never make it, and while carrying in load after load, the burden inside her had grown heavier than the freight. That’s when it had all hit her, had her crying that it was her birthday, and no one had remembered. That her parents had been gone two years and she’d never see them again. Ever. She’d hated the railroad more than ever that evening, found herself wishing they’d just come take over the store, rid her of all the responsibilities that had fallen upon her and had her drowning with no hope of surfacing.

Through blinding tears, as she’d made yet another trek to the barn, she’d seen a vision. A man hoisting a heavy load and heading in her direction. She’d thought she was seeing things. Robbie had been gone from Huron for months, and she’d doubted she’d ever see him again. He’d sought her out the year before because his father was part owner of the railroad and Robbie tried to convince her to sell the mercantile to them. He’d wanted one other thing, too.

She’d remembered all that, and in hindsight wondered what she had been thinking that night. He’d said hello as they passed, him heading for the store with his load, her trudging toward the barn for another armful. On the next trip he’d commented how pretty her dress was, and the one after that, he’d wished her a happy birthday.

After the last box was inside the store, they’d walked back to the barn to get a few bags of feed out of the rain that had started to fall again. That’s when Robbie had offered her a taste of Afton Smith’s wine. She’d refused, but when he’d insisted on toasting her birthday, she’d complied, taking a single drink from the large bottle he had.

One sip led to another—for it had tasted like cherry jelly, as Karleen had said—and soon the two of them were sitting in the hay, sharing what seemed to be a never-ending supply of wine. She hadn’t laughed in so long, and Robbie had been so comical, telling her about all the places he’d been the previous year, how much she’d enjoy seeing them. That’s when it had happened, when she’d wondered whether she could learn to love Robbie, maybe even enough to sell out.

It hadn’t worked. She’d ended hating herself and Robbie.

A premonition of sorts chased away the memories midthought and Molly glanced toward the doorway before the thud of heels sounded. Another forewarning had her climbing off the stool and standing so that the counter completely concealed her stomach before Mrs. Rudolf appeared in the open doorway.

“Hello, Molly,” the woman greeted, glancing in all directions.

A sour taste filled Molly’s mouth. It was obvious the older woman was looking for Carter. Every woman who entered the mercantile, which was quite regularly these days, wanted him to wait on them. Bitterness grew inside her, making it almost impossible to answer, but not doing so would be bad for business. “Hello, Mrs. Rudolf.”

Making her way slowly across the store, both because she was searching the farthest corners and her size didn’t allow her to move quickly, the woman finally arrived at the counter. “Oh, are you making yourself a new dress?”

“No,” Molly answered. “This is for Ivy.” Her insides churned then, wondering if that’s why the woman was here. To say the town council had changed their minds.

“For her first day of school?”

The smile on the woman’s face could be deceiving. It was hard to know if she was happy for the child or happy to bring bad news. Mrs. Rudolf was capable of both, or either.

“Yes,” Molly replied somewhat hesitantly.

“I’m so happy the town council listened to us this time.” Leaning across the counter, Mrs. Rudolf whispered, “Husbands do listen to their wives, you know. As they should. Poor Mrs. Wilcox was very concerned her husband wouldn’t agree, but he did once he heard we were all insistent upon this.”

A shower of shame had Molly bowing her head. “Thank you, Mrs. Rudolf. I sincerely can’t fully express my gratitude for the opportunity this is giving Ivy. She’s beyond excited.”

“As she should be,” Mrs. Rudolf agreed kindly. “But Carter—Mr. Buchanan—is who you need to thank. He made us see the railroad should have no control over who attends school.”

Molly couldn’t come up with a reply, not before the woman spoke again.

“Where is he? Mr. Buchanan, that is?”

“I was outside, earning the salary Molly pays me for being a hired hand, but had to come wait on you, Mrs. Rudolf. You’re one of my favorite people.”

Molly went so stiff a cramp tore up the back of one calf. Not only due to Carter’s overly pacifying tone, but by the way the other woman lit up as if she’d just stepped into the sun.

“Oh, Mr. Buchanan,” Mrs. Rudolf cooed. “You are a charmer.”

That was putting it lightly, Molly thought, barely managing to keep from voicing it. He’d put his shirt on, had tucked it in as well, but his face still held the sheen of sweat from the work he’d been completing outside. Unfortunately, it made him all the more handsome and likable. Not what Molly needed right now. Nor was remembering how warm and hard his skin had felt beneath her fingertips.

“What can I help you with today?” He stepped closer, fashioned a frown to grace his lips. “Your replacement cup hasn’t arrived yet.”

“I know,” Mrs. Rudolf assured. Casting a fleeting glance toward Molly, she added, “There’s no rush on that, dear. I’m getting along fine with just the five.”

Molly nodded, unable to do a whole lot more. Carter had moved to the counter, now stood within touching distance, and that had warm fuzzy things bursting inside her again. He was looking at her, too, and there was none of the disgust she’d seen in the barn. Instead, his eyes were bright, clear, and once again glimmered with that mysterious hint of mischief they always held. Her cheeks heated up and Molly had to bow her head.

“It’s too bad, dear, that you aren’t sewing a new dress for yourself,” Mrs. Rudolf said. “You’re such a pretty girl, and this material would look stunning on you.”

Before Molly came up with an excuse, Carter said, “It would look stunning on you, too, Mrs. Rudolf. Perhaps you’d like to buy some.” He took a few steps toward the materials table.

“I’m not a fan of stripes,” the woman said.

Considering Mrs. Rudolf’s size, that was a good thing in Molly’s mind, and although she held in the thought, the sparkle in Carter’s eyes said he knew what she was thinking, or close to, anyway.

“How about this one, then?” he asked, holding up a bolt of white cotton covered with large pink roses.

Molly bit her lips together. He looked almost silly, holding the colorful cloth below his chin, but the expression he tossed her way said she’d better not laugh.

His grin said he was teasing, and Molly covered her mouth, to make sure a giggle didn’t escape. Carter flashed another look, saying he knew she was laughing inside, and he was too. It reminded Molly of how she and Karleen used to communicate, simply by glancing at each other. They hadn’t done that for a while now, not in the fun playful way she and Carter were doing right now.

Once in his salesman role, Carter couldn’t be beat. Molly had seen it before, and today it didn’t grate on her nerves; instead, his antics had jolliness creeping about inside her until she was enjoying them as much as Mrs. Rudolf. The older woman eventually bought the fabric, the entire bolt, thread and buttons to match, and a pair of the ugly white shoes Carter had convinced her were the height of fashion on the East Coast.

He was standing behind the counter next to Molly, wrapping the purchase in paper while she took Mrs. Rudolf’s money, and Molly wanted to ask him how he did it. Go from a cowboy or hired hand to a salesman in the blink of an eye.

Opening the drawer to provide change, Molly stalled. A new five-dollar bill sat atop the others. It hadn’t been there earlier, and no one had bought anything of significant cost this morning, not while she’d been in the store anyway.