Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

“You’re thinking about buying a ranch here.” Cat recalled he had mentioned getting into ranching again on that long-ago night in Fort Worth.

“I already have.”

“What?” She looked at him.

“I bought the Circle Six.” A dry smile edged his mouth. “I guess that makes us neighbors, doesn’t it?”

“No.” Cat swung away, struck by the certain eventuality that one day he would meet up with Quint.

“It’s a pity you can’t pick your neighbors, isn’t it?” Logan said mockingly. Her hair gleamed a glossy black in the sun’s waning light. To his regret, he remembered the silken feel of it tangled in his hands.

She turned back to him in obvious agitation. “You had hundreds of places you could have gone. Why did you come here? Why?”

“I wasn’t searching for you, if that’s what you think. Sorry, but you weren’t that unforgettable.”

Had she thought that? Cat realized she must have, because it stung to know she had played no part in his decision. “Then why did you come here?”

“Because I happen to like it.”

“But it isn’t always like this,” she argued. “The winters here can be brutal.”

“You forget I’m originally from the Dakotas. The winters here aren’t that much different.”

Frustration pushed at her. “What do I have to do to make you leave?”

His smile turned lazy and taunting. “What are you offering? A repeat performance of our night in Fort Worth?”

Furious, she struck out at him, her hand arcing toward a lean cheek. He blocked it, his fingers clamping around her slender wrist. With a jerk, he pulled her against him, molding her to his length. The contact with his flatly muscled body snatched at her breath and stirred alive all the old needs that had once driven Cat into his arms. His head tipped toward her, his face filling her vision, the moist heat of his breath warming her lips. She felt hot, the closeness of him leaving her in no doubt that he was as aroused as she was. Could she use that?

The question had barely crossed her mind when Logan killed that hope. “Pleasurable as it would be to take you again, Cat, it wouldn’t work,” he murmured, his gaze traveling over her face. “I’m here to stay. Get used to it.”

That was impossible, and Cat knew it. “I’ll buy your ranch. Whatever you had to pay for it, I’ll give you more,” she offered in desperation, for the first time truly thankful for the trust fund her mother had established.

He chuckled. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Money and pressure—I was told those were two ways the Calders dealt with a problem. I can’t be bought, Cat. And don’t try pressuring me, because I’ll push back. Hard.”

He released her with a short, abrupt shove and walked away. A camp jay swooped across his path, aiming for a thickly needled pine tree. With a sharp cry of alarm, it suddenly veered from its path. Alerted by its call, Logan snapped a glance at the site. A dark figure lurked in the tree’s deep shadows.

The discovery of the man was a cold shock to his senses, proof of how completely he had been absorbed by Cat. That it was only O’Rourke mattered little. The man had gotten behind him, unseen and unheard. No one knew better than Logan the potential danger of such a lapse in his guard. The skin along the back of his neck crawled from the thought of it. Yanking open the door to his truck, Logan cursed her, and he cursed himself.

Culley waited until the pickup had started down the lane before he soundlessly moved out of the tree’s shadows. His gaze followed the departing truck with quiet speculation, his mind turning over the things Logan had said against the Calders.

He came up behind Cat, catching her unaware. “Are you okay?”

She turned with a start, then relaxed visibly. “Uncle Culley. I didn’t hear you come out.”

He could have told her the front door squeaked, but the back door didn’t. Instead he asked, “What was that all about with Echohawk?”

“Nothing.” She stared after the truck, absently massaging her right wrist.

Culley took note of the action, his eyes narrowing. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, I—” She threw off that question and came straight to the point. “He said he was here to l

ease Shamrock grazing rights. Is that true?”

“We were talking about it.” Culley nodded. “Running stock is young man’s work. I’m getting too old for it.”

“I don’t want you to sell him those rights, Uncle Culley. Not for any price.” She wore a determined look that he knew well.