“Ma? What’s the matter?” Will wandered to the front door, a frown on his face.
“Well?” Rusty smirked.
“Nothing is the matter, sweetie.” Rachel scowled at Rusty. “All right. Just let me turn off the water. I was washing dishes. I don’t see what you’re all so fired up about.” She returned to the kitchen while Rusty waited on the front porch.
When Big Bob told him he needed to find another cook because Rachel was moving into town, it took all of his control not to snap at the man and punch his fist into the wall. It was bad enough that she wouldn’t give him the time of day, but to leave her job—and him—without settling their differences was not something he intended to ignore.
“Mr. McIntyre. Is something wrong?” Will looked up to him with wide eyes as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“No, son. I just need to talk to your ma a bit.”
Rachel appeared at the door, minus her apron and towel. She ruffled Will’s hair, then bent to give him a kiss on his cheek. “Go on back inside, and finish your schoolwork. I won’t be long.” She dared Rusty with her eyes to dispute her statement.
They walked in silence around the back of the house and to the fields the men had left just a couple of hours ago. The smell of newly cut hay was still in the air, reminding him once again why he loved ranch life. And to think with a few years of hard work, this would be his.
He’d already given Big Bob the bulk of his savings as a down payment. The man’s lawyer had drawn up the agreement, outlining the amount of each quarterly payment, and the number of years to pay it off. Comfortable with the terms, Rusty had cheerfully signed and handed Big Bob the bank draft.
He still couldn’t believe his luck in having Big Bob decide to sell the place. Now if he could only get this mess with Rachel straightened out, his life would be exactly where he wanted it. For years he didn’t want to get tied up with another woman. But Rachel changed all that.
Their one time together had convinced him she was right for him, and they could have a good life together. And, as hard as it had been to allow himself to admit it, he loved her. Something he probably hadn’t picked the best time to blurt out to her, however.
He cast her a sideways glance. If the look on her face was any indication of how this conversation would go, they wouldn’t be standing in front of a preacher any time soon. She stared straight ahead, her body rigid. Despite her obvious annoyance with what she probably labeled his high-handedness, she still had the ability to raise his temperature and send all his blood to one place.
A slight breeze lifted the curls on her neck that had escaped her bun. Her cheeks, flushed from the walk and her anger, reminded him of how she looked in the throes of passion. Hopefully he would get to see her that way again. He mentally undressed her, remembering the curves, softness, and warmth of her body. His hands itched to cup her breasts and kiss her tight nipples.
If he didn’t get himself under control, he would incur her wrath even more by throwing her down on the ground and having his way with her.
“I think we’ve walked far enough.” Best to get the conversation started while he still had most of his faculties.
Rachel stopped so abruptly he walked past her a few steps before he realized she’d halted. “So, tell me what it was that had you banging on my door like the sheriff.”
He took her hand in his, and while she didn’t pull it away, she looked over his shoulder, her attention riveted on something behind him. He cupped her chin with his other hand and turned her head toward him. “Rachel, why did you tell Big Bob that you were leaving this job and moving into town?”
“Had I known your question was going to be so easy, I could have answered it at the front door. I told Big Bob I was leaving my job here and moving into town because I am leaving my job here and moving into town.” She raised her eyebrows. “Can I go home now?”
He couldn’t help himself. He shifted his body and wrapped his hand around her neck, tugging her closer. His head descended and he covered her lips with his. In an instant he knew he’d come home. Her mouth was sweet, warm, and soft. He could lose himself in her sweetness and never look to escape. She was his, and the need to put his stamp on her, to let the world know without a doubt to whom she belonged, burned like a fire in his belly.
Whatever it took, he would convince Rachel to marry him. And that he needed to accomplish it before her brother arrived with a shotgun aimed at his back.
She stiffened and wiggled her two hands between them, shoving against his chest. “No. Stop.”
He released her lips and kissed the soft skin under her ear, down to her neck and along her jawline. His palms slid up and down her arms, and he grasped her shoulders. “Oh, darlin’, you are so sweet. I can’t get enough of you.”
She gave him one strong shove. “I said, stop it!”
Rusty rested his hands on his hips and hung his head, his eyes closed. He wouldn’t get anywhere with her if he didn’t stop. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise to behave myself.” He looked up fast enough to see the hunger in her own eyes before she quickly shifted her glance.
“I don’t see the point of this. I have no intention of allowing a man to court me who doesn’t trust me.” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. “I won’t do it.”
He was losing her fast. The change in her as she withdrew told him he wouldn’t get anywhere trying to push. But he needed time. Time she wouldn’t give him. But perhaps he had to let her go to win her back. It sounded stupid to him, but at this point she wasn’t giving him a choice. “When are you moving to town?”
The surprise showed on her face. Maybe letting her go was the best way to win her back.
“As soon as the new cook can be hired. Since you’re the boss—not that you saw fit to tell me—you’ll have to let me know when I can leave.”
He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. “If I had my way, darlin’—never.”
She narrowed her eyes, the sudden change causing him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. God, how he loved her moods. From spitfire to sedate, from playful to somber.