Trouble At Lone Spur (18 page)

“Melody is. Rusty’n me want more hot dogs. Then we wanna go home. Melody said she’ll take care of her mom.” He flashed a sullen glance in Liz’s direction.

“We’ll go when I say so, young sprout,” Gil shot back. “Doing acrobatics in a wet oak tree didn’t help Lizbeth’s cold. Is there something you want to tell her?”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed and his hands balled at his sides.

Liz was surprised at the force of Gil’s anger. “It’s all right. Dusty already apologized.” She softened her expression. “Besides, I didn’t actually see anyone chase Mittens up the tree. ‘Tis the season to forgive and forget, is it not?” she added gently.

“That reminds me.” Gil snapped his fingers. “Let me go refill their plates, then I have something to run by you.”

“Okay.” Her voice changed octaves again. “Don’t look at me like that. And don’t even
think
about fixing me a second dose of that sheep dip.” Trying for a stern expression, she passed Gil her tray.

“But see how much better you feel already.”

“No.” She crossed her arms.

“At least promise me you’ll stay inside tomorrow. I can’t think of a horse needing shoes that can’t wait. Anyway, we’ve got a thunderstorm brewing.”

“A day off would give me a chance to bake some holiday cookies. All three kids brought home notes yesterday saying they need to take some to school on Friday. You do remember they’re on vacation starting Monday until after New Year’s?”

“That soon? Like I said, let me get them seconds on hot dogs, and then I want to talk to you about the holidays.”

He sounded so serious Liz immediately began to wonder what on earth he’d have to say. She didn’t have long to wait. He was back within minutes.

“Mitch Wilson of the Running W out of Fort Worth ordered a matched set of buckskins for his daughters for Christmas. I promised I’d deliver them personally.”

At first Liz couldn’t see how his delivery concerned her. Then it dawned. “Oh, so you’re wondering if I’d mind taking care of the boys? No problem.”

“Ah…” Giving her a peculiar look, Gil plunked down on the end of her bed. “I’m, uh, asking you to go along.”

“Go? With you…to…to Fort Worth?” she stammered. Perhaps it was the lingering effects from Ben’s cold cure, but her heart seized, then began to pound.

“The stores in town are already picked over. I don’t know what you want to get Melody for Christmas, but shopping’s a lot better in Fort Worth.”

“Shopping. Uh…yes.”

“Did you think I wanted you to go along to shoe the horses?” He reached out to pick up her hand.

“I didn’t know what to think.” She liked the feel of his hand and let hers lie still. Little by little she warmed to the idea. “We can take turns watching the kids while the other does Santa shopping. Sounds like heaven. I’ve always had to shop over top of Melody’s head. It’s nearly impossible now that she’s older and wiser.”

“Actually Nan Littlefield offered to keep all three kids. Last year I roped her into helping me buy their gifts. I think she’s still frazzled.” He smiled.

“Gil, the boys haven’t said a word to me about what they want from Santa. And I’ve never shopped for boys. Do you think Dustin even believes in Santa?”

“He does and he doesn’t. You have to get up early to put something over on him. But Ben’s sneaky—he managed it last Christmas. Darn, I miss that old coot.”

“So do the twins. It’s good they’ll get to hang out with you while they’re on vacation. I’m afraid they think I keep them on a tight rein.”

The light went out of his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Wish I’d known those dates. First week the kids are on vacation, we’re scheduled to geld. I may be old-fashioned, but—”

“I agree,” she said in a rush. “There’s still the second week.”

Gil shook his head. “That week we’ve got Night Fire lined up to cover six mares. Something else I don’t let them watch.”

“I thought Rafe oversaw the mating barn.”

“He does, but a horse stepped on him a while back. The bones never healed right. His doctor was able to schedule his surgery that week.”

“The boys will be terribly disappointed, Gil.”

“It can’t be helped. I’m not running the ranch as a hobby. I’ll try to get away early every day. That’s the best I can do.” He might have elaborated, but Dustin barged in on them. He didn’t look at all happy to see Gil sitting on Liz’s bed, holding her hand.

“C’mon, Dad. Let’s go. Me and Rusty have school tomorrow.”

With some reluctance, Gil stood. “So we’re on for Fort Worth?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low.

Liz watched a range of emotions skitter through his eyes and wished they were more easily read. In the, end what swayed her was the fact that Gil apparently wanted her to agree. She nodded slowly, even though her heart
quickened. “I guess so—if you’re sure three kids won’t be too much for Mrs. Littlefield to handle.”

“I’ll check with her again. And we’re agreed you’ll take tomorrow off?”

“You don’t have to twist my arm.” She flashed Dustin a smile. “You boys come straight to the cottage after school. I’ll save making sugar cookies, so you can help.”

“I’m not makin’ any dumb ol’ cookies. Ben bought the cookies we took to school. ‘Sides, me and Buddy Hodges are gonna hunt wild turkeys tomorrow.”

“Not on the Lone Spur you aren’t,” Gil said. “You know I planted five acres of prairie grass to entice wild turkeys back here after the older Hodges boys annihilated the flock. You guys are not starting on this one. You be here tomorrow after school, and you do what Lizbeth says. As many cookies as you eat, you should bake a few.” He strode to the door. “We’ll be leaving now, Lizbeth. If you need us, call.”

He was gone almost before Liz could blink. He and Dustin were still bickering after they’d left the house. Her window faced the clearing, allowing her to hear every word. Dustin wasn’t happy with anything. Not his dad, Rusty or Liz. When Melody bounced into her bedroom a few minutes later, Liz thanked Providence for her daughter’s sunny disposition.

N
EXT DAY
, Liz stumbled out of bed to see Melody off to school, then crawled back under the covers and slept late. By midmorning, she felt a hundred percent improved. She’d just finished wrapping her sixth fruitcake in rumsoaked cheesecloth when Gil knocked at her kitchen door. She glanced up and motioned him in.

“Whew! What in blazes…? It smells like a saloon in here.” He removed his Stetson and approached the table with caution.

“My grandmother’s fruitcake recipes. I made three dark and three light. I plan to give them as Christmas gifts to some of the neighbors, so I hope they have time to cure. I’m getting a late start.”

“Don’t light a match between now and Christmas. This place will go up like a Molotov cocktail.”

“The alcohol smell will disappear by the time I close the tins. Sure you’re not peeved because I haven’t made the kind of cookies you want to snitch?”

“I stopped by to see how you’re feeling. I met Melody when I rode out this morning. She said you were going back to bed.”

“There’s no such thing as privacy when you have kids.”

“Isn’t that the truth. No secrets, either. Those little monkeys heard what I said last night about going Christmas shopping. At breakfast they each laid a list for me about a mile long.”

“So there went the Santa mystique, huh?”

“I don’t know. They begged to go to Fort Worth. Claimed the Santa in our mall is a phony.”

Liz went to the stove and poured him a cup of coffee. She set the timer to tell her when to seal the cakes. “Have you had lunch? I was about to stop for a sandwich.”

“You talked me into it.” He shook his head. “Those kids. Always trying to pull something.”

She uncovered a loaf of fresh bread and cut four slices. “Did it occur to you they probably want to chaperon us?”

“Actually it did. By next Friday I predict both twins will be sick. However, I’m on to their tricks.”

Liz cleared half the table of her cooking utensils and set sandwiches at right angles. Gil pulled out her chair, and as his arm brushed hers, she felt as if she’d taken a jolt from an open electrical circuit. When he sat, their knees touched, upping the voltage. For weeks, Liz had known her feelings for him were deepening—and her attraction growing. She wasn’t sure what he felt. “Gil,” she said suddenly, “maybe I shouldn’t go to Fort Worth.”

He paused, the tuna sandwich halfway to his mouth, and watched her mangle a napkin. “That’s what they want. Dustin, at least. You’ll be playing right into his hands.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Since Thanksgiving, I’ve been getting a lot of mixed signals from you. Forgive me for being direct, but is this trip really about Christmas shopping?”

The air left Gil’s lungs in a whoosh. He set his sandwich down, closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. “And if I said it wasn’t…altogether?” His eyes, when they cracked open a slit, were guarded.

Her heart expanded with love for him. If putting a name to her emotions made
her
cautious, Liz imagined how difficult it would be for Gil. She hadn’t risked her feelings or her heart in more than six years, and it took courage to do so now. “I’d want to know if this is something you do annually, like I do holiday baking.” Nipping in her lower lip, she studied her fingers.

He rose half-out of his chair. “Hell, Lizbeth, what kind of a question is that?”

The minute his chair scraped, her gaze flew back to him. “A fair question, I think. I’m not interested in being a new link in a long chain of one-night stands. On the other hand…” Drawing a shaky breath, she got up and went to the stove. “On the other hand,” she said, not
facing him, “my stomach curdles when you say Lizbeth the way you do.”

It took Gil a minute to digest her remark. Once he ran it through a second time, he stepped up behind her and rubbed his hands over the points of her shoulders. Bending, he placed a breathy kiss at the juncture between her neck and ear. “There isn’t any chain. Not a single link. Would it sound like I’m playing games if I suggest we take it slow? Just let whatever’s developing between us set the pace?”

She leaned back against his flannel-covered chest a moment, then covered her mouth to smother a chuckle. “No one playing those kinds of games would kiss a woman who smells of rum and Vicks.”

Barely a heartbeat passed before Gil scooped her up, whipped her around and swung her high, his laughter chasing hers. “I reek of tuna. Probably reminded you of Melody’s cat.”

“Your nose is warmer.” She shrieked as he pretended to let her drop, but abruptly fell silent as he gripped her waist and let her slowly slide the length of his body. A quivery pulsing spasm shot through her stomach. One trembling finger lightly traced his straight eyebrows, his angular cheekbones and the creases that bracketed his lips. Secure in his arms, Liz dipped her head and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Gil felt as if his muscles had decomposed. Liz hooked her legs around his hips; Gil tightened his hold and increased the pressure on her lips. Soon they were lost in a tangle of tongues. A need for air forced them apart, but not before his hands had found their way beneath her shirt and she’d popped a few snaps down the front of his. Who knew how long the exploration might have lasted—had
the timer she’d set to remind her to cover the fruitcakes not gone off, shattering the moment.

With a nervous laugh, Liz reached behind her and silenced the noise. Since he looked like he’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler, she balanced against the sink, instead of circling his neck with her arms again, the way she wanted to. “Urn, if this is your idea of slow, Spencer, I think we’re in trouble. The kids get out of school at two today and it’s one-thirty now. Teachers’ meeting or something, the notes said.”

He nodded, released her and drew in a slug of air as he backed slowly toward the door. He’d fumbled it open by the time she hurried to hand him the rest of his sandwich and his hat. Rising to her toes, she set the Stetson on his head. On her way down, she let her lips graze his, then his chin, and lastly the front of his shirt.

“Stop that, Lizbeth,” he groaned.

“Um…yes?” She edged back, barely suppressing a grin.

“The trip to Fort Worth—it definitely isn’t just about shopping.” The door closed on that tantalizing note, and Gil clattered down the steps.

She ran to the window and watched him slosh through mud to where he’d left his truck. Little fingers of heat walked up her spine. Something good was happening between them. The smile that lodged in her heart refused to be shaken. Not even when Rusty and Melody burst through the door an hour later. Without Dustin.

“He went with Buddy Hodges,” Rusty wailed the minute the two children cleared the door. “Said he’s not comin’ home till Ben gets back.”

“Of course he is. What kind of nonsense is that?”

“I think he means it.” Rusty’s lower lip trembled and his eyes teared. “He doesn’t want you goin’ to Fort Worth with Dad.”

That news came as no surprise. It screamed from Dusty’s every pore. He must have overheard their discussion, Liz figured. Her joy began to fade. Dustin would do anything to drive a wedge between her and Gil. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? Rusty was easygoing like Gil; Dustin had inherited a few traits from his mother. No. It was unfair of her to attach a full-grown woman’s foibles to an innocent child. And her relationship with Gil could only work if her love extended fully and completely to his children. It was up to her to scale Dustin’s barriers.

“I gotta go find my dad.” Rusty trudged toward the door, shoulders bowed. “When I tell him ‘bout this, he’s gonna be madder than a cross-eyed bull.”

“Rusty, wait.” Liz brushed flour from her hands. A plan took shape in her head as she covered the cookie dough and put it into the fridge. “It’s me Dusty’s mad at. I’d like a chance to talk him into coming home before we involve your father.”

The boy’s hazel eyes narrowed warily.

“Please, Russ? If he refuses to come back with us, I’ll help tell your dad.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “I don’t want my brother gettin’ into trouble.”

“I know, sport. Believe me, I don’t either.” And Liz found she meant it.