The Colorado Bride

“Tomorrow?” She resisted the urge to rake the back of her hand over her lips.

“The picnic. You haven’t forgotten our plans?”

“N-no,” she stammered.

“I’ll pick you and the children up at four.”

“Yes. Lovely.”

“Until then.” He nodded and left.

When Rebecca turned three sets of eyes were staring at her. The children didn’t hide their shock. Cole didn’t hide his anger.

“That’s gross,” Dusty said.

“Gross,” Mac chimed.

Cole winked at the children. “You each get extra candy for that. Dusty, take Mac out back for a minute then I’ll run you both down to the mercantile for that candy. I need a word with Miss Rebecca.”

“Can I pick any flavor I want?” Dusty asked.

“You can buy out the whole damn store, kid.”

“Great!” Dusty shouted.

“Great!” Mac repeated.

Dusty tossed the untouched candy Wade had given him on the table and guided Mac outside. The boys quickly settled into a game of good-guy, bad-guy.

“You’re bribing those boys with candy,” Rebecca challenged.

He ignored her. “You’re not considering marrying that guy, are you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Rebecca pretended an indifference she didn’t feel and focused on Cole’s bleeding hand. “Let me have a look at your hand?”

He jerked away from her when she reached for the dirty bandanna wrapped around his hand. “Don’t change the subject.”

“You’re bleeding on my floor.”

“It’s fine.”

“I just cleaned this floor and I’d like it to remain presentable for another day or two.” She took a hold of his wrist.

He stared down at her, his body rigid, his breathing hot and fast. She didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. Then relenting, he relaxed a fraction and allowed her to guide him to the sink.

Her stomach flip-flopped as she peeled back the blood-soaked rag, afraid what she might discover. To her relief, the wound wasn’t bad. The skin on Cole’s thumb was jagged and the thumbnail blue, but the cut wasn’t deep. A good washing and a proper bandage would do.

“Did you hit your thumb with the hammer?”

“I was doing fine until old Ernie arrived.”

“He’s not old.”

“He could be your grandfather.”

“Stop exaggerating.”

“I never exaggerate.”

“Mind your own business.” She pumped water into the sink, letting it splash over the wound.

Cole winced. Rebecca’s shoulder brushed his naked skin and she found concentration difficult. She washed the wound thoroughly, then reached for a clean tea towel. “I’ve got bandages in the closet. Have a seat at the table.”

He sat down, leaning back with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. “You can’t tell me that you actually enjoyed that kiss.”

“It was quite pleasant,” she lied. She dug through the basket of torn linens she used as bandages.

“Better than mine?”

She dropped the basket. “Yes.”

A slow grin spread across his lips. “Right.”

She gripped the handle of the basket to hide her trembling fingers. Careful not to meet his gaze, she took a seat next to him. Her knee brushed his hard thigh. Heat burned in her body.

She swallowed a lump in her throat as she rolled out a neat white strip of fabric. “Lay your hand on the table.”

He complied, watching her every move as a hawk did a mouse. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smoothed out his clenched fingers. Their roughness brought back memories of him touching her shoulders, her cheek.

She mopped the blood still oozing from the wound with a fresh wad of cloth. Then she pressed more fabric against the gash before wrapping a long thin strip around his thumb, palm and wrist.

Grateful the task was done, she stood ready to make a hasty retreat.

As she rose his good hand reached for her wrist. His gaze was like a caress. She stood frozen unable to react. He drew small circles on the inside of her wrist with his thumb. Slowly, he pulled her down, beckoning her to kneel in front of him. He tugged her closer until each of his thighs pressed against her arms.

“Stop this,” she whispered.

“Stop what?” Releasing her wrist, he captured a curl between his fingers.

“Driving me crazy.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

“I could say the same for you.” He traced the curl along her cheekbone then over her lips. “God help me, but I can’t get you out of my mind.”

She moistened her lips. “Please, just leave.”

“No.”

In the next instant, his mouth was on hers. This was no slow, easy kiss like the last. It was demanding, designed to plunder, possess and lay claim to what he thought was his.

A wave of desire shot through her. Ernie’s kiss had left her cold. Cole’s set her on fire.

She lost herself in the taste of him. His masculine scent enveloped her as easily as his hands. She couldn’t resist him, couldn’t stop herself from wanting.

She leaned into him, savoring the feel of his muscular chest against her breasts.

A primal growl rumbled in his chest as if he struggled with his own war of resistance. He caressed her mouth with his tongue as his hand slid to her breast. If not for the support of his thighs, she surely would have collapsed. Lord help her, but she sensed her surrender—even anticipated it.

Then suddenly, he tore his mouth away from hers, stood and stepped back. She remained kneeling on the floor, still numbed from their embrace as she looked up at him, spellbound.

The lines around his eyes were deep. He raked his fingers through his black hair. “Let’s see if old Ernie can beat that.” He turned and strode away.

Chapter Nine

The next afternoon the sound of fiddle music drifted to the Shady Grove Inn. A tattered welcome banner hung in the center of town greeting riders and wagonloads of people who’d traveled from all around the county for the picnic.

Cole stood by a pile of freshly split wood near the side of the inn. He had an ax handle in one hand and a thick log balanced on the chopping block, ready to be split. He’d cut nearly a half cord of wood and his muscles ached with fatigue. But the unending restlessness that plagued him remained.

He kept thinking about Rebecca. And touching her. And wanting her. After their kiss yesterday, she’d stayed beyond his reach.

She had no business marrying a man like Wade. She was a fool to think he could make her happy.

Cole swung the ax over his head, ready to strike the log when Rebecca and the children gathered on the front steps. They were waiting for Wade to escort them into town.

He lowered the ax blade and set it aside. He tugged off his gloves and flexed his bruised hand.

Rebecca was dressed in a sage-colored dress and she’d swept her golden curls back with a white ribbon. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled, with what he guessed was anticipation. She held a large wicker picnic basket in one hand and a parasol in the other.

She looked breathtaking.

Too damn breathtaking.

Rebecca set her basket and parasol aside and knelt in front of Mac to brush his bangs off his little face and tuck in his shirt. Turning to Dusty, she wet the tip of her finger with her tongue and wiped a smudge from his face. Dusty turned his face away, trying to avoid her primping but Rebecca got the spot she was after.

She smiled at the boys. “You both look very handsome today.”

Dusty stamped his feet. “I hate these new shoes,” he complained. “They’re pinching my toes.”

Rebecca pulled on lace gloves. “They fit just fine. You’ve just got to get used to having shoes on your feet.”

“But I never needed them in the summer before.”

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “No child of mine is going to

run around town without shoes.”

Dusty ducked his head to hide a grin. His complaining was all bluster, for clearly he cherished his new place in Rebecca’s family.