Trouble At Lone Spur (20 page)

How to proceed without betraying her promise to Dustin? “Yesterday, you told me yourself, ‘Slow down. Let things progress naturally’. Gil, as I said the other day,
this isn’t just about us. Ben’s accident shook the twins. They rarely had you to themselves before, and now they have to share you with me. I’m becoming a wedge between you.”

“Nonsense.”

“As an outsider, I see things you don’t.”

“Sure that’s not a convenient excuse for cold feet?”

“I’m not the one who turned my duties over to Rafe and then ran for the hills. I’d like us to spend some time together, just the two of us. But only if the feeling’s mutual.”

“It is.” He looped a hand behind her neck and tilted her face up. “So mutual I haven’t thought of anything else for two days. You tie me in knots, Lizbeth.”

She saw the truth of what he said in his eyes—and saw there the risk he feared in baring his soul to another woman. “Then why are we having this discussion at midnight? I’ll have my bag packed by noon on Friday. See that you don’t stand me up, Spencer.”

The delay in Gil’s reaction attested to his long tiring day. Smiling, Liz leaned over and nibbled his lips with a soft kiss. Just as quickly she jumped up, hurried into the living room and plucked Melody from the couch. They were gone before Gil came out of shock. He yanked back the kitchen curtain and watched her cover the short distance between their homes.

In bed later he dreamed of what it would be like to end the night with more than a simple kiss. He awoke at dawn in a rock-hard state that not even a cold shower could alter. Strangely enough, Gil felt young and carefree again. He left the house, counting the hours till Friday.

J
UDGING BY THE SCENE
unfolding on Nan Littlefield’s front porch Friday at noon, Gil should have spent less
time counting and more time preparing his kids. Dustin threw a fit to rival all fits. He used language that prompted Gil to give his son a hard shake. It was harsh punishment coming from Gil, and Dustin promptly started to howl.

Dustin’s behavior at least was expected. Melody’s fit of tears was not. Admittedly Liz had never left her with a sitter before. The little girl’s sobs threatened to wake the dead. Gil didn’t have to be a magician to interpret Lizbeth’s guilt. Was he being selfish to want this trip in spite of the children’s tantrums and tears?

“Morris knocked off early today,” Nan told him, peeling Melody away from Liz. “He rented a ton of movies, and he’s itching to teach the boys how to play pool. We have two foundling calves that have to be fed by hand. I’m going to need Melody’s help with that after we settle her cat and her stuffed animals in her room. Go on, you two—shoo!”

Gil was the first to see wisdom of doing exactly what Nan suggested—leaving quickly. Liz continued to spout instructions as he tugged her backward toward his Suburban. Then she sat so still and looked so forlorn he pulled off to the side of the road before they reached the interstate. “Do you want to go back? You can give me your list. I’ll try to do your shopping and mine. Although I don’t know one Barbie doll from another.”

The first item on her list had nothing to do with Barbie. It was Rafe’s request for sexy lingerie. Finding humor in that, Liz started to laugh. “I think you might prefer Barbie over an hour in Victoria’s Secret.” Smothering a laugh, she explained.

“Well, whaddaya know. Didn’t realize ol’ Rafe had it in him. I think I’ll buy the most risqué little nightie I can find, just to see his face.”

“Don’t you dare. Put this thing in gear and hit the road. I never should’ve said a word. He trusts me, Gil.”

Gil checked behind him before pulling out and negotiating a ramp leading to the freeway. “So, zipping my lips puts you in my debt.” He waggled his brows.

This was a flirtatious, fun-loving side of Gil that Liz had never seen. Unless he was simply trying to take her mind off leaving the kids. Nevertheless, she was happy enough to join in. “It would serve you right if I dragged you into every lingerie shop in Fort Worth, Gil Spencer. Think how you’d feel traipsing through bras, slips and panties in every size, shape and color of the rainbow?”

That got to Gil. “Guess I’d better stick to buying boots and saddles. However—” he slanted her a sidelong glance “—I’d better tell you that I have a pretty active imagination.”

Liz did, too. She’d listened in on enough conversations around the rodeo to know most cowboy-types preferred to sleep in the raw. And if he was imagining her in flimsy lingerie, she was imagining him in…nothing. Clearing her throat, Liz dug out her shopping list and proceeded to read it aloud. “As well as Barbie, I want to buy Melody a frilly nightgown, a quilted satin robe and bunny slippers. Oh, and flowered leggings if I can find them. She rarely comments on her friends’ clothes, but she talks about those leggings all the time.”

Her smoke screen didn’t fool Gil, but because they’d hit the outskirts of Abilene and traffic had grown heavier, he deemed it safest to play along. “Mitch Wilson, the man who’s buying Butterscotch and Toffee—” he jerked a thumb toward the trailer “—plans to meet us at a friend’s ranch at six. He’s boarding the horses at the Double Bar Seven till Christmas. From there, I figured
we’d go check into the hotel, unpack, call our brood. Then we’ll find something to eat. How does that sound?”

Her smile blossomed. “How did you know I’d want to call home?”

“Hmm. I wonder.” He glanced over. “Lizbeth, don’t worry about Melody, okay? She’ll be fine with Nan.”

Liz nodded, then laced her fingers together and bent them back nervously. “Speaking of offspring, yesterday I checked out the mare we rescued on Thanksgiving. Her little guy’s looking great.”

“You
rescued. Come January, I’ll be weaning your foals. You do know, don’t you, that your wild mare will probably try and take her colt back to the herd?”

“She seems content. Are you sure it won’t be the other way around? Maybe she’ll spread the word, and Wind Dancer will come in.”

“Lizbeth, I declare.” He took one hand off the wheel and snagged a dark curl. “Board your damned colt with somebody on the other side of town until he’s old enough to geld. I don’t want him disappearing—and you disappointed. And I sure as hell don’t want that stallion killing him.”

She slid her hand around his wrist and felt his pulse leap. She stroked his hand, cuddling her cheek into his palm, although not in any attempt at seduction. “You’re such a caring man,” she said, holding his callused hand in both of hers. “It’s hard for me to imagine any woman leaving you.”

He pulled out of her grasp—because they were approaching a hill, he told himself. But not before he saw the troubled flicker pass through her eyes. “My divorce was messy and bitter. I don’t want it to come between us, Lizbeth.”

“I know this is a big step for you, Gil. It is for me, too. You’re touchy. The boys are touchy. I feel caught in the middle and I don’t know which way to turn.”

He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “It’s complicated.”

“We’ve got more than a hundred miles to go.”

Gil knew she meant there was time to talk. But he let a few of those miles go by in silence. It was so quiet he switched on some music. A tape of traditional Christmas songs. He’d bought it hoping to please her. Lizbeth didn’t look pleased. Only silent. More miles slipped past, and he sighed. “When Ginger took off with Amistad, I was hurt. My lawyer wanted me to file for sole custody, but I didn’t do it at the time—she hadn’t taken any interest in the boys, and frankly I didn’t want to face her in court. About a month after the twins’ third birthday, she filed a petition for joint custody. I refused to consider it. We went back and forth in court until she ran out of money. Our fight upset the boys. I agreed that Ginger could visit them at the ranch whenever she wanted, but she didn’t bother. About the time they turned four, she made and broke so many appointments I wanted to kill her. The few times she showed up, she and Ben got into shouting matches. The boys were in kindergarten when she filed for full custody. I offered her cash to leave us alone. She took it and I made sure my lawyers closed all the loopholes. Maybe I was wrong…”

“No, Gil.” Liz thought her heart would break. “Don’t turn yourself inside out like this. Let’s start from ground zero. Hey, I’ll check your shopping list, why don’t I?”

There was nothing he’d like better than to switch subjects. Gil unsnapped his shirt pocket and pulled out three pages. “I’m warning you, those boys would be happy owning Toys R Us.”

Liz laughed. But on reading the pages, she was appalled. “Gil, surely they don’t expect
all
these things.”

“Too much, huh?”

She sneaked a peek to see if he was joking. “Well, it’s your money.”

He tipped back his head and guffawed. “And at that rate, I’d go broke in a year. I do set some limits for them, Lizbeth. Like those electronic gadgets I’ve never even heard of. Will you help me pick four gifts apiece, hopefully ones that don’t cost a mint?”

“Eight gifts, plus my list. Wow, I don’t know if we’ve allowed enough time.”

“I guess we could start tonight,” he said reluctantly. “If it’s anything like San Antonio, the major stores stay open till midnight this close to the holiday.”

“Midnight? Oh, no, you won’t catch me tramping through malls with nine million people that late at night. I plan on hitting the sack long before then.” The instant Gil drew a sharp breath, Liz realized what she’d said. Too late to retract her words, she decided to go for broke and met his smoldering gaze with a lazy smile. Talk fell off as Gil kicked the Suburban up to five miles above the speed limit.

Her insides bounced from dizzying anticipation to paralyzing apprehension. Why, for goodness’ sake? This wasn’t the first gamble she’d taken looking for love. She knew better now than to count on the everlasting brass ring.

M
ITCH
W
ILSON
was waiting when they pulled into the Double Bar Seven at dusk. He and his friend, the Double Bar’s owner, greeted Gil effusively. The men immediately went to unload the pair of buckskins. Liz felt awkward about getting out to stretch her legs, since Gil
hadn’t offered to introduce her. No sooner had she examined the hurt feelings this caused than he did that very thing, telling Mr. Wilson she was the best darned farrier the Lone Spur had ever had. Boy—talk about touchy. She had her moments, too.

Gil handed over the registration papers, which Wilson pocketed without a second glance.

Liz-found that simple action a testament to Gil’s character. It spoke of trust. And men born in the West didn’t trust lightly. As they drove away, Liz felt totally at ease with her decision to be with this man. And maybe he felt it, too. They exchanged warm smiles that lasted until Gil entered the city limits and stopped beneath the awning of the Worthington Hotel, blithely handing his keys to a uniformed valet.

Liz brushed at her worn jeans and raked a hand through her windblown hair. “Gil, what are we doing here? I’m not dressed for a place this fancy.”

He hefted their bags before giving her a cursory once-over. “You look fine. This town was built by cow people. Catering to horse folks should be a step up.” He took her arm and winked as they passed the doorman.

“Gil Spencer, you’re incorrigible. Is it any wonder the teacher slapped that label on Dustin?” She laughed, yet when he left her standing beside an elegant silver-andwhite Christmas tree while he went to register, she was
sure
that everyone who passed knew she didn’t belong. And the longer Gil stayed at the polished marble counter, the more certain she became that everyone on staff knew exactly what they were doing here.

At last he turned and started back. Liz held her breath. She almost bolted when he picked up their bags without a word and led her to a bank of elevators.

“This brochure explains the athletic and tennis clubs and includes a map. Here, I got you a key card even though I figured we’d be going everywhere together.”

The elevator was empty; still, she sidled close and whispered, “Do they know?”

“Know what?” Gil frowned.

“You know,” she murmured as the elevator glided to a stop.

He removed his Stetson and raked a hand through his hair. “Lizbeth, are you feeling okay? You’re white as a ghost. Is your throat sore again?”

She snatched her bag from his hand and stomped out onto the deep pile carpeting of the gilt-encrusted hall. Checking the number on her key-card folder, she marched to the door and waited for him to catch up. Her jaw dropped when he walked past her to the next room and stuck his card in the door slot. She rechecked her key card just to be sure of the number.

By then Gil understood. Propping his door ajar with his bag, he came back, took her card from her limp fingers and repeated the process with her door. “I thought you’d like the privacy of your own room. I meant what I said about letting things develop naturally. But—” he flashed her a grin “—there’s a connecting door in case—”

He never got to say in case what. She slugged him on the arm. “You might have clued me in. And you know darn well my throat’s just fine.” Flying past him in a huff, she slammed the door. Then she stood, holding her breath, waiting for his protest. Waiting for
him
…

Two minutes later he appeared at the connecting door, looking hesitant. “You left your key in the slot, Lizbeth. Even in a swank hotel that’s dangerous.”

“Thanks. Throw it to me.”

She caught the key card and tossed it on the dresser. Suddenly playful, she stripped off her leather jacket and fell across the massive bed, laughing as she bounced. “Leave the connecting door open, Gil. This is as natural as it gets. If you’ve got a dime, I’ll flip you to see who gets to call home first. Then I think you promised food. Gad, I’m so hungry I could eat a mule.”

“Shh.” He dashed across the room and covered her mouth. “This town’s got the finest steak houses in the West. But mules…well, lady, them’s fightin’ words.”

Giggling, Liz placed an openmouthed kiss in the center of his palm.

He jumped back as if he’d been bitten, instead of kissed. “Lizbeth, I swear…”

Her eyes rounded innocently. “Yes?” She uncurled her hand. “The dime, Spencer. I’ll do the flipping.”