Perhaps sensing her confusion, Rusty placed his warm hand on her cold one. “How long were you married?”
“Only two years. He died of pneumonia when Will was a baby.”
“Will told me his ‘real’ name is Zander.”
Rachel smiled, remembering that discussion. “Yes. Zander was the name of Billy’s favorite uncle. He insisted on naming our son that. It was quite an argument. I demanded William as his middle name, and never called him anything but Will. Billy called him Zander.”
“Did you love him?”
***
Why the hell did he ask that foolish question? What did it matter to him if Rachel loved her husband who died when Will was a baby? What bothered him the most was that it did matter. The fact that Rachel hesitated told him enough.
Her cheeks grew red as she studied the spoon next to her saucer. “I’m not sure.” She looked up, giving him a wistful smile. “I was more in love with the idea of love, I believe. My Aunt Tori and Uncle Jesse took over our care when my parents died. They wanted all of us to go to college. Uncle Jesse is a lawyer and Tori was a schoolteacher. My brother, Michael, went to Pharmacy school, and when it came my turn to go to college, I refused.
“We argued for weeks over that, but Billy and I were courting, and all I could see was marriage, a home and a family. Tori tried to convince me I could do both, but with stars in my eyes, all I wanted was marriage.”
She stirred her tea and shrugged. “Once Billy died and I had no way to earn a living, it hit me how right they had been. It was pure luck that Big Bob needed a cook and was willing to take me on with my limited experience.”
“And you’re satisfied with your life now? Happy with cooking three meals a day for hungry cowboys?”
She stiffened. “Yes. I am happy.” Then she grinned. “At least that’s what I tell myself every day.”
They sat together in silence, each with their own thoughts. Rusty glanced at Rachel, taking in her weary expression and the slump to her body. Her black eye was stark against her pale skin, and her other eye sported a dark circle underneath.
“It’s time you went to bed, Mrs. Stevens.” He carried their plates to the sink and dumped them in. He leaned against the sink, crossing his ankles. “I still haven’t talked to Amelia.”
Rachel stood and stifled a yawn. “Good. By tomorrow you’ll be calmed down.”
“But I still need to speak to her about this.”
“I agree. It wouldn’t hurt. But you were too mad before.”
They strolled together to the front door. Rusty turned and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Take tomorrow off, too.”
When she started to shake her head, he pulled her closer. “I insist. I’m the boss, and I want you to take tomorrow off.”
“All right.” The words came out breathless.
His heart sped up, and he wrapped his arms around her waist until their bodies were touching. “Thanks for the tea and pie.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispered.
Slowly, he bent his head and brushed her lips gently, barely a kiss. She sucked in her breath, and he moved his arm up to her shoulders. Tugging her closer, he took her mouth in a searing kiss. Rachel eased her hands up his chest to encircle his neck, playing with the hairs at the back of his head.
Her supple breasts, hidden behind the soft cotton nightgown, pressed against his chest, causing all his blood to race to his cock. His hands slid down, cupping her plump bottom, tugging her against him. He rotated his hips, teasing the spot between her legs that he longed to uncover and touch, feel her silky skin, moist from her passion.
How he wanted this woman. Her scent, her touch, her whimpers. He tormented her lips with his tongue, demanding entrance. She gasped and he swept in, the heat and sweetness pushing him further, wanting more. Much more.
He pulled away, his chest heaving as he attempted to draw in air. He rested his wrists on her shoulders and touched his forehead to hers. “Darlin’ if we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop at all. And when I take you to bed it won’t be with two kids in the next room, or with you sore from a beating.” He backed up and kissed her lightly on her nose. “Good night.”
***
Rachel stood stupefied, as the front door closed with Rusty on the other side. What had just happened? What did she do, and what had he said? Dear God, either one of the kids could have come upon them just now. She’d behaved like a wanton, allowing him to touch her in ways only a husband should touch a wife. She turned from the door and entered the kitchen on shaky legs. With muddled thoughts, she carefully rinsed out the teapot and put it on the shelf over the sink.
She blew out the lamps and headed to her bedroom. Once inside, she sat on the bed and thought about Rusty.
. . . when I take you to bed it won’t be with two kids in the next room . . .