Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? (7 page)

Riley’s suppressed energy made his body quiver, but he waited, tracking their exit. Seth coming in with hay stuck to his shirt meant he had been in the barn. Him being in the barn meant something was going on in there. Like Scarlett about to foal.

He was done waiting around. He gave Ainsley a quick nod and started for the kitchen, but Molly re-entered the room and strolled over to him and Ainsley like the interaction with Seth was a normal, everyday occurrence.

“What was that about?” Riley asked, his eyes on the entryway as if his brother might return.

Molly examined the fruit tray while she answered. “Nothing. Let Seth take care of it.”

“Molly.” His voice held a tinge of warning that he used with people who disobeyed the rules on the mountain.

“Riley.” Molly answered back in the same stubborn tone and Ainsley stifled a laugh.

Hard to ignore her when she and her vanilla scent wouldn’t go away. And what was that gleam of understanding in Molly’s eye?

“I’ll just… be over here.” Ainsley slid to an overstuffed green chair in the corner of the room.

The loss of the warm vanilla didn’t improve Riley’s mood. “This is about Scarlett, isn’t it?”

Molly didn’t answer, only handed him a fork from the buffet table. “Eat. Your guests are all watching you.” She glided away from him and was immediately replaced by two of the guests who blocked his escape route though the kitchen.

Dammit, he should be in the barn, not playing the Pied Piper of Wyoming. Cookie was perfectly capable of handling the mare’s foal, but Scarlett was Riley’s favorite. He wanted to be there, not catering to a bunch of women who stood so closely to him they might as well be breathing his air.

Worse were the ones who didn’t address him directly. A woman wearing a low-cut white blouse and a skirt shorter than his temper positioning herself in provocative poses. She must have been the clumsiest person ever, because she kept dropping her napkin. Two others stood within range of him, but talked to each other, occasionally turning Riley’s way to include him in the conversation with a question or comment, each accompanied by a touch on his arm. Hair flips, bright smiles, batted eyelashes, and pouty lips all paved a path from one woman to the next while he tried to wind around them and into the kitchen.

All he wanted to do was see Scarlett.

The napkin woman bent down again and the other two were occupied in a new thread of conversation. His eyes lit upon Ainsley, and she lifted her orange juice in an impromptu salute. That was the last of it. He hightailed it into the kitchen before anyone else noticed. Only it wasn’t a perfect plan, since Molly stood there with her hands on her hips, blocking his exit.

“No,” she said.

He inhaled deeply before answering, putting a hold on his trigger reaction to charge out the door. “No what, Mol? No, don’t go outside, so you can waste your time with women who treat you like first prize instead of tending to your livestock? No, stay here and ignore what’s going on in the barn? No what?”

She glared at him. “This is not how I planned it.”

Riley softened his tone, knowing his sister liked to keep to a schedule. “Molly, I’ll see everyone tonight at whatever activity you have planned. The ladies are crowding around me so much right now anyway that I can’t talk to them. It will be better this way.” He kissed her on the forehead and strode out the mudroom door to the barn.

Ainsley had known something was up when Riley’s brother nearly knocked her over in his haste to reach Molly. After that, the strain of impatience had warred with the reserved emotions on Riley’s face, and she found herself wondering what he’d be like if he lost that tightly held control.

His constricted composure hadn’t lasted long after that. Once Riley stormed into the kitchen, Ainsley counted how long it took to hear the back door closing. Two minutes. She didn’t blame him. Something unusual happening on the ranch was more important than a stupid singles retreat.

It was another minute before everyone else realized their dreamboat was missing, the buzz of annoyed women growing louder until Molly emerged from the kitchen. “Where did Riley go?” Robin asked.

Molly held up her hands, resignation taking over her features. “Ladies, it seems we’ll have to wait until tonight’s one-on-one speed-dating interviews to see my wayward brother again,” she said. “Please, finish your brunch and relax in here or feel free to explore the ranch.”

 “So where’s Riley?” Leigh asked.

“Where did he go?” Robin repeated.

“To the stables,” Molly answered. “We have a mare about to foal.”

Silence filled the room as the women looked at each other, Molly, and out the huge window. A few of them put down their drinks or plates on the nearest surface and glided toward the door as if they’d each spontaneously decided to take a stroll.

Molly marked the mass exodus with a sigh and sank into one of the cushioned seats. “That was probably the wrong thing to say.”

“I know the smart thing to do would be to stay here.” Meagan rose from her seat, casting an apologetic look at Molly. “But I’ve been around animals before and having the opportunity to see one give birth… I can’t pass this up.” She paused, as if waiting for permission.

“I’ll wait until after you leave before I laugh at you,” Ainsley promised. Meagan stuck her tongue out before heading for the door.

“You’re not going out there?” Molly asked.

“I’ll ruin my Manolos,” Ainsley said, tracking her roommate’s exit.

Molly peeked down at Ainsley’s brown loafers. “Those are Manolos? I expected them to be… well… brighter.”

A flush warmed Ainsley’s cheeks when she realized what she’d said. “Oh, no. I mean, I don’t know much about livestock, except how to get out of the way. Riley doesn’t need eight women milling around watching the horse have a little one.”

The two women who didn’t rush out drifted over to them and made themselves comfortable on the other chairs and sofa.

“You don’t want to witness the miracle of life?” Ainsley asked them.

Mary Ellen shook her head. “I have no inclination to see a waxy build-up on a pregnant horse.”

Molly gripped the arms of her chair and made a strangled sound at the back of her throat before she muttered under her breath. Ainsley barely made out the words “kill” and “brother.”

“Well, let’s do something fun,” said Robin. “What is there to do here?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Molly said, clapping her hands and rubbing them together. She transformed into their hostess again, unaffected by the change in plans. “We have some nature trails that lead to the actual crescent ridge. Oh, and you said yesterday you’re a florist, right?” she asked Ainsley.

Ainsley nodded, dread creeping into her stomach while she waited for the woman’s admonishment over her nocturnal visit to the greenhouse. Molly’s hands tensed a bit, which Ainsley would have missed if she wasn’t watching for some sort of reaction.

“Let’s go look at the greenhouse,” Molly said.

Not quite what Ainsley was expecting. “Is that all right? I mean, it’s not off limits or anything?”

“Why would you think that it was off limits?” Molly asked.

Because of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mad As Hell
. Ainsley only shrugged. “Let me go change and get my camera. Seeing different flower arrangements and how they’re grown always fascinates me.”

Molly and Robin were waiting for Ainsley when she reached the greenhouse. Molly stormed through the doors like she had to get inside, swinging them wide open.

Ainsley took her time looking around, studying the leaves of the tree closest to the door to hide that she’d been there before. Now in the daylight, though the same sweet smell of decay surrounded them, she was able to see that not all the flowers were on the verge of death. Contrasting rows of purples, pinks, yellows, and blues lined the west end, the different spicy and velvet scents opening her professional curiosity. The greenhouse covered a good half–mile, with dirt paths winding among the plants, the architecture of the building proclaiming that not all of the structure was original. Ainsley breathed deeply, relaxing in the mixed florals like she was in her shop. It smelled so much like home.

She was so absorbed in her own agenda that she barely heard Robin. “Molly, are you all right?”

Molly sat on the bench next to the notebook, hands covering her face and her shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She wiped her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “My father loved this greenhouse. It was his passion, his joy. We lost him about four months ago and no one’s really enjoyed it since. I thought having new people here with me would change the…the loneliness I feel every time I come in here, but it didn’t.”

Ainsley digested Molly’s words and a heated rush made its way up her face. Riley must have been feeling the same way. And she’d just callously marched into the sacred ground like she belonged. No wonder he’d been upset. “I’m so sorry, Molly.”

Robin echoed her words and enveloped the other woman in a hug. Molly closed her eyes for a moment, then disentangled herself with a forced laugh.

“Anyway,” Molly continued as she tried to put a bright smile on her face, “enough of this. You ladies look around and let me know what you think. This greenhouse is a huge attraction for people who come to the ranch for something other than the horses and sheep.”

Ainsley paused for a moment, but Molly nudged her with a little push to the shoulder. Ainsley wandered away from the bench and breathed in the earthy scent around her. Her grandfather had instilled in her a passion for flowers. She had spent countless hours with him in the backyard of their monstrous home. She smiled at the memories as she fingered the leaves of an Indian paintbrush, the dulled red standing out against her hand. Even after he made his money in the sixties with a few well-placed investments, Grampa always took time to play in the dirt, and she thought of him every time she walked into her shop. She imagined Riley’s father had cared for the flora in the greenhouse much the same way. The way Riley had acted last night gave her the idea that Riley wasn’t ready yet to confront his memories. And Riley felt the same way she did after her grandfather had died.

“All right, Ains. Stop daydreaming. You can’t change his past,” she muttered to herself, and studied the flowers for something deeper than their memories. She spotted the ever-present Indian paintbrush, some red showing among the growing stems, and purple geraniums surrounding the skin-irritating yellow arnica. She cleared some dead vegetation, ideas for arrangements for Charleston Blooms growing in her mind. This trip was finally starting to be productive. And if she could help begin to heal the greenhouse, maybe the Pommers could begin to heal as well.

Edward swallowed around the tightness in his throat. That vibrant green bikini was going to be the death of him. Everywhere Cecelia went, the eyes of every male, from teenage boys to old men with sun visors, followed her movements. The bartender leaned forward a little too much when he handed her their drinks. Her hips swayed with her delicate steps as she came back to the lounge chairs, and Edward put himself among the ranks of her most avid watchers.

“Here.” The calypso band had started playing and she needed to shout so he could hear. She handed him a clear cocktail glass filled with a thick chocolaty liquid. Definitely not the requested rum and Coke. “Drink up. I’m giving you a Screaming Orgasm.”

A low buzzing sounded in his ears. While he wouldn’t have put it as crudely, the thought of having Cecelia in his bed brought him close to losing the tight control he kept on his emotions. “Excuse me?”

She sat on the chair next to him. “The drink. It’s called a Screaming Orgasm.” She blinked at him through her long lashes. “You didn’t think…”

Heat rushed to his face and he turned away to hide it. “Oh, no, of course not. I wasn’t sure what you had said.”

“Hmmm. Too bad.” She took a sip of her own red concoction and eased back into her chair.

The thick book in her lap held her interest while he studied her over the rim of his glass. He had heard the phrase “blatant invitation” before, but actually experiencing one was something new. Her gorgeous hair fell in loose waves just past her shoulders, the breeze teasing her cheek with her blond locks. One long leg bent slightly at the knee, the other fully extended. The tiny green bikini displayed so much of her lithe body that he wanted to grab a towel from a pool attendant and cover her up.

In his list of pros and cons, the number of cons had been greater. She was too wild. She wasn’t what he needed and wanted in a spouse. Her parents—Ainsley’s parents—would never approve. But one pro overrode them all, one secret he kept from Sophia and Bennett and even his own heart.

He had always loved her.

He took a drink, unwilling to follow those thoughts any longer. She was completely unsuitable. Even with her bloodline, no way could she ever move in his world, where appearances mattered and you were judged by your relationships. The creamy liquid slid down his throat, leaving behind a hint of coffee. He took a larger swallow and tried to relax, ignoring the force of Cecelia’s personality.

Some guy made his way to the foot of her chair, every part of his overly muscled body glistening. Certainly some women found that attractive, but Edward thought it was overdone. The man stopped and posed, his bulging veins straining through his skin. “Hey, pretty lady.”

Edward’s stomach clenched. He took another swallow of his drink and glanced away, trying to play it cool. Cecelia wasn’t his, and if she wanted to go with this hulking, no-brains mass, he wasn’t going to stop her.

“Hey yourself.” Her voice was friendly and Edward held his breath.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Edward couldn’t help but resent the ease with which this man went after what he wanted. He was sure the man didn’t analyze the nuances and after effects of every situation. Maybe Edward should take lessons.

“You’re sweet. But no, thank you.”

The man moved off, studying other women lounging by the pool, and Edward exhaled slowly. He drank more of his Screaming… Orgasm.