The Rebel of Copper Creek (12 page)

He stalked to the window. With his arms crossed over his bare chest he leaned against the sill and stared at the darkened sky outside, wondering if he'd ever cool off enough to sleep.

There'd been women. Too many to count. But at the moment, he couldn't remember a single one. Probably because until now, he'd never cared enough to consider them more than a distraction.

But now…

Now there was Juliet. And he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything in his life.

He couldn't explain why. She was angry and scared and fighting just to survive. She seemed hell-bent on attracting trouble. Add to that the fact that she had two sons with plenty of problems of their own. She could easily decide to pack up and move to a big city clear across the country, where he'd never hear from her again.

That ought to be enough to scare off any guy with half a brain.

He'd always prided himself on being a smart guy.

But he wanted her.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. He'd already made her problems his problems. He was more than ready to make her fight his fight.

And he'd brought her here, not just to keep her safe, but to give his family a chance to get to know her.

His family. How quickly they'd gone from strangers to family. And he wanted them to like this woman.

Now he knew he was a goner.

He was in over his head and slowly sinking beneath an ocean of trouble.

And all he could think about was the fact that he wanted Juliet Grayson with a hot, burning need that was becoming all-consuming.

J
uliet woke with a start. One minute she was sound asleep, the next she was sitting up at the sound of a door closing. She pushed hair from her eyes and glanced at the window, where morning light streamed in.

She'd been dreaming. The dream was lost to her now, but it had been about an airplane. It had seemed so real, she could actually hear the engines drawing closer and closer.

And then suddenly she was awake, and the dream, like wisps of fog, had vanished.

It had taken her hours to fall asleep after Griff left. And no wonder, after a scene like that. Even now, just thinking about it had her cheeks growing hot.

She'd practically begged him to make love with her.

Love? How dare she call it that? She'd loved Buddy. And loved him still. It was time for a reality check. What she'd felt for Griff last night was pure lust. It was fear and loneliness. It was her hormones working overtime.

Thank heavens he'd had the common sense to leave before they ended up doing something they would have both regretted. From now on she would have to be more careful around that handsome, charming cowboy.

She slipped from bed and headed toward the shower. A short time later, while toweling herself dry, she heard another door open and close. This one seemed very near.

Draping the towel around herself, she returned to the bedroom in search of the clothes she'd discarded the previous night. They weren't on the chair where she'd dropped them. Puzzled, she turned and saw them neatly folded atop the night stand. They smelled of detergent and fabric softener.

She dressed quickly, then made up the bed before slipping quietly from her room and opening the door to the bedroom next door. Inside, the beds had been made, and there was no sign of Ethan and Casey.

Alarmed, she hurried down the stairs. Even before she reached the kitchen she heard a deep, booming voice and the higher-pitched sounds of laughter.

She walked in to find everyone already dressed and sipping orange juice or coffee.

Mad in his wheelchair was at the stove, pouring batter into a waffle iron. Perched on his knees were Ethan and Casey, watching intently as he closed the lid.

Seeing her, Casey yelled, “Hi, Mama. We're making awfuls.”

“Waffles,” Mad corrected.

“Oh yeah. Waffles,” the little boy chirped. “I told him you make ours in the toaster.”

“Those things
should
be called awfuls,” the old man said with disdain. “Wait until you taste mine. You'll never eat another one of those store-bought cardboard things that pass for real food.”

With a wink Griff handed her a glass of foaming orange juice.

She felt her cheeks flush as she avoided his eyes and tasted it before giving a sigh of surprise. “Oh, this is wonderful. Fresh squeezed.”

Just then Willow walked into the room, wearing a look of frustration. Behind her, Brady Storm, looking equally annoyed, touched a hand to her shoulder in a show of support, which brought a weak smile to her lips.

Trailing them was the most sophisticated man Juliet had ever seen. Perfect white teeth in a tanned face that was as smooth, as polished, as the Armani suit he wore with casual elegance.

Spotting Juliet, he paused in the doorway. “Who is this? Have you added another secret family member to the MacKenzie clan?”

Willow said through clenched teeth, “Lance McMillan, this is our neighbor Juliet Grayson and her two sons, Casey and Ethan. Juliet owns the Grayson Ranch just beyond our northern border.”

“Ah. Another rancher. Juliet.” He took her hand and held it while he studied her before turning to smile at the others. “I see the neighborhood has improved considerably since the last time I paid a call.”

He reached into his breast pocket and produced a business card. “Since you're a neighbor of the MacKenzies, I'd be happy to help you with any legal problems that might crop up. I'm especially adept at handling tax questions, and any local or federal government issues that are so vexing for ranchers.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the card and tucked it into the pocket of her shirt.

“Speaking of issues…” Mad shot him a dark look. “What was so important you had to fly that flashy new plane out here first thing in the morning?”

Lance's smile grew. “You like the plane?”

Mad shrugged. “I didn't see much of it as it flew over. But it's a far cry from our old Cessna.”

At that moment, Juliet realized she hadn't been dreaming. She had actually heard a plane's engines just as she was waking.

“It's a Gulfstream.” Lance's voice was silky. “It comes with its own pilot. I'm trying it out before committing. But I think it suits my needs.”

“Your needs?” The old man frowned. “Your father never needed a jet to keep in touch with his clients.”

“Those days are over. Since taking control of my father's firm, I've doubled the client list. And that's just the beginning. By this time next year, I hope to triple that number.”

Willow turned to Juliet. “Lance's father, Mason, was Mad's lawyer since the two of them were boyhood friends. When our ranch started growing, it was only natural for Bear to turn to Mason, as well.” She sighed as Brady held a chair and she sank down gratefully. “And dear Mason was always here when we needed him. It's something I'll never forget.”

“Trust me, Willow.” Lance shook his head when offered a glass of orange juice from a tray, explaining, “I have a breakfast meeting scheduled.” Turning to Willow he went on smoothly, “As I've explained to you, even though my father is now retired, nothing has changed. Despite his extended fishing trip, he took the time to look over and approve all the documents before sending them along.”

“I'm relieved to hear that.” Willow indicated the table. “Are you sure you and your pilot can't stay for breakfast?”

“Sorry. This is a meeting I can't miss.” Lance started toward the door. Over his shoulder he called, “Thanks again for agreeing to sign these on such short notice. I know all this business can be confusing when you've lost a spouse, but it can't be helped. There's so much government red tape, it would be impossible for you to navigate without a competent lawyer to walk you through it, and I'm happy to be here for you.”

He paused as though remembering his manners. Turning, he flashed a blinding smile on Juliet. “It was nice meeting you, neighbor. I hope I'll see you again. If you need any legal advice, feel free to contact me.”

Minutes later, with the sound of the jet overhead, Mad announced that breakfast was ready.

Willow gave an audible sigh. “I'm sick and tired of legal documents. I hope I never have to see another.”

“I'm sure this won't be the last of them, lass.” Mad shot her a sympathetic look before returning his attention to the waffles.

Myrna handed Willow a glass of orange juice. “Drink. It's fresh. It will revive your spirits.”

Willow managed a smile as she looked around to include not only the housekeeper, but her foreman, her father-in-law, and her children. “Thank heaven for all of you. I don't know what I'd do if I had to get through this on my own.”

Juliet glanced at the housekeeper. “Speaking of thanks. I found my clothes clean and folded. Did you do that?”

Myrna smiled. “I'm up at dawn, and always looking for little chores to occupy my time. I hope I didn't wake you.”

Juliet laughed. “I slept so soundly, I think a bomb could have gone off and I'd have slept through it.” She crossed the room to press a kiss on the old woman's cheek. “Thank you. That was so thoughtful. I hope I can make it up to you.”

Myrna's face was wreathed in smiles as she touched a hand to her cheek. “It was such a little thing. And I knew you hadn't brought a change of clothes for yourself or your sons.”

Juliet glanced at her two boys, so easy in the company of Mad. The ice cream smudges were gone from Casey's shirt. The grass stains were completely erased from Ethan's pants.

“Bless you,” she whispered to Myrna as she squeezed her hands.

With a smile the old woman returned her attention to the oven, removing an egg casserole along with a pan of crisp bacon.

When the waffles were brown, Mad lifted the lid and removed them to large plates before saying, “All right now. Casey, you carry the bowl of whipped cream. Ethan, you're big enough to handle that platter of fruit.”

Following his directions, the two boys did as they were told while the others gathered around the big table. As they took their places, they began passing around the platters of egg and bacon and toast slathered with Myrna's homemade jellies, while Mad urged the boys to try his waffles.

Casey could barely speak around a mouthful of waffle heaped with whipped cream and strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. “Mama, Mad's right. These don't taste anything like yours.”

“If you'd like, lass, I'll give you the recipe.”

Juliet laughed. “Only if you promise to come over and do the cooking, too.”

“That might be a bit difficult in my condition. I doubt your kitchen has room for this contraption.”

“It isn't nearly as large as this.” Juliet studied the streams of light filtering through the tall windows. “Or as bright and airy. This is such a lovely room.”

“It's deliberate, lass. Since I spend so much of my time here, I wanted it to be spacious enough for my wheelchair, and all the appliances and countertops to be low enough for me to work without strain.”

She nodded. “This is one of the things we learned during therapy. There were building contractors who showed us renderings of their designs specifically for people in wheelchairs. Lower countertops. Barrier-free rooms without clutter that would permit the easy flow of wheelchairs and scooters.” She ducked her head. “Most of them were pretty daunting.”

“Because of the mess involved in the remodeling?” Willow asked.

Juliet shook her head. “Because of the terrible expense.”

“Yes. I can imagine.” Willow glanced across the table at her father-in-law.

Juliet squared her shoulders. “Did you have to go through extensive therapy after your accident, Mad?”

He shrugged. “The doctors ordered it. But I wasn't very cooperative.”

“Not cooperative?” Willow couldn't hide her laughter. “Mad, after your first week, there wasn't a therapist left who would agree to work with you.”

“Pissants.” His voice dripped anger. “The whole lot of them. Weak-willed jellyfish.”

“I'm sure they had a name for you, as well.” Willow touched a napkin to her lips before meeting his stony gaze. “And not nearly as kind as that.”

“I had a right to be angry. My whole life had just been snatched away in an instant.”

Juliet nodded in agreement. “Anyone who has ever lost a limb knows what you mean, Mad. The therapists should have taken the time to probe your feelings.”

Willow chuckled. “They didn't need time. Mad let everyone know exactly how he felt. They may have heard him all the way across Montana. Believe me, he didn't hold back.”

Mad smiled. “Go ahead. Laugh if you want. But I'm in agreement with Juliet. I'm sure I wasn't the first angry man they had to deal with.”

“Maddock MacKenzie.” Willow shook her head. “‘Angry' doesn't even begin to describe you back then. After your accident you were Lucifer, out to destroy the world and everyone in it. You seemed bent on making everyone in that hospital pay for being able to walk while you were confined to a bed. There were doctors and nurses who fled your room in fear for their lives.”

He grinned, enjoying the mental image. “Really? Was I that strong?”

“You oozed wild-eyed fury.”

“So,” Juliet interjected. “You've never had physical therapy?”

“Didn't need it.” He slapped a hand on the wheels of his chair and shoved away from the table. Over his shoulder he called, “I taught myself everything I needed to know to take care of my own needs. I guess you could say I'm my own therapist.”

Juliet watched him roll across the room to retrieve the coffee server, waving Myrna away.

When he returned to the table, he was smiling at her boys. “Well, lads, how did you enjoy my special waffles?”

“They were the best.” Casey finished a final bite of waffle, whipped cream, and berries. Before he could wipe his mouth on his sleeve, he caught sight of his mother holding up her napkin.

Looking properly chastised, he wiped his mouth with the napkin before saying, “Will you teach our mama how to make them?”

“I will indeed. As soon as I write down the recipe.”

Juliet brightened. “I have a better idea. Maybe one day Griff could bring you to my place when the Romeos are having a therapy session. While you're there, you could meet some men who are learning some of the things you've already had to face. I'm sure there's a lot you could tell them. And then you could show me how to make your famous waffles.”

Mad seemed about to argue. But seeing the eager, expectant looks on the faces of Casey and Ethan, he paused before saying, “Maybe I'll do just that, lass. One of these days.”

Juliet knew, from the tone of his voice, that he was merely being polite.

No matter. Like him, she knew a thing or two about persistence.

“Fine breakfast, Mad.” Brady pushed away from the table and started toward the mudroom. “I'm heading to the highlands. Whit, you'll take care of that broken wheel on the flatbed?”

“I'm on it.” Whit turned to Ash. “You got time to lend a hand?”

“Sure thing.” Ash nodded. “Brenna's heading into town for supplies. She can swing by on the way home and pick me up.”

Juliet turned to Willow. “Before you head off to see to your chores, I want to thank you again for welcoming us into your home.”