The Rancher's Baby Proposal Read online

  He set his mug firmly on the table. “If I can’t find anybody local to take the place, I’ll contact a few real estate agencies and put announcements in some of the bigger trade magazines. There’s plenty of well-maintained equipment—large and small—out in the barn. I can either throw that in with the property to sweeten the deal, or reduce the asking price and sell the equipment off piecemeal to other ranchers in the area.”

  “Everybody around here is pretty well set,” she said. “We sell heavy equipment through the store, too, and we don’t get too many orders.”

  She had all the answers. Or thought she had.

  He stared from her to Jed and back again. Whatever the reasons behind everything they had said, he couldn’t let their opinions affect him. He shrugged. “If nothing else, I’ll put the place up for auction. It’ll go, sooner or later. And in any case, I’ll already be gone.”

  * * *

  ALLY PRESSED HER lips together, trying to keep from venting her frustration to the baby. Reagan couldn’t have made his determination to leave Cowboy Creek any plainer if he’d written it in the dust on the windowsill in this living room.

  Glaring, she swiped at the offending layer of grime.

  If she planned to make any headway with him, she would have to move fast. Meanwhile, she needed something to keep her busy.

  She looked at Sean, across the room in his baby carrier. She had begun to enjoy having the baby follow her with his eyes whenever she went near him. But she couldn’t depend on Sean to occupy her completely. The child had to nap sometime. And considering Reagan was paying her to babysit, he would probably think providing entertainment was part of her job.

  She certainly couldn’t look for any assistance from him.

  “Need some help?”

  At the sound of his voice, she shrieked and grabbed at the canister of furniture polish her out-flung hand had just knocked off the chair beside her. She turned to face him. “Not again, Reagan.” She rolled her eyes. “Does it give you a lot of pleasure to know you can scare the pants off me?”

  Only after she blurted the question did she realize how it might come across if he took it literally—but of course, he wouldn’t.

  First of all, since his return, he had never even noticed she had grown up. His crack last night about the “ice-cream treat” proved it. Okay, she had always loved spending her entire weekly allowance at the Big Dipper in town. But did Reagan really think she seemed that young?

  And another thing. Just like years ago, he barely seemed to notice when she was around. Even this morning, when she had arrived on his doorstep, his sweeping glance had gone right over her to the sack from SugarPie’s.

  If all that wasn’t bad enough, she could wallow in embarrassment at having him catch her in here last night, dancing like a fool.

  “I thought you planned to head out to the barn once Jed left,” she said.

  “I intended to. But he reminded me it’s going to be hot out there today. I thought I’d stay in here for a change. You look like you could use some help with the higher shelves.”

  “Are you trying to point out the fact that I’m so much shorter than you?”

  “Are you?” he asked blandly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  Had she called it, or what? As much as he cared, she could be invisible. That had to change.

  “Your help would be much appreciated,” she said as easily as she could manage with her jaw clamped tight.

  As he approached, she swallowed hard. The closer he got, the more she wanted to reach out and touch. She wanted him near her, and yet she didn’t. She wanted him...and yet she wasn’t ready to make the first move.

  Until she figured out her strategy, it would be best to keep her distance. Dust cloth in hand, she headed toward the wooden storage cupboards on the opposite side of the room.

  “If we’re going to do this right,” he said, “we need to get together.”

  She froze, then turned to look at him. “What?”

  “Give me a hand here.” He gestured to the built-in bookcases she had only half finished cleaning when he’d interrupted her last night. “It’ll go easier if I hand things down to you. You can dust ’em, and I’ll take care of the shelves.”

  “Okay.” Reluctantly, she went to stand beside him. He stood taller by more than a foot, and his reach made him seem even taller. “No wonder you were so good on the basketball team.”

  He looked at her, frowning. “Where did that come from?”

  Her face heated, and she wished she hadn’t tied her hair back with her bandanna again. She could have tilted her head and let her curls hide her flaming cheeks. “I only meant, you’ve got long arms. That’s a good thing when you’re trying to make dunk shots, right?”

  “Yeah, it is.” Smiling, he reached out to hand her a stack of books.

  Again she froze, this time to stare at his face. Instantly, that smile had brought back the boy she had always loved.

  “Whoa,” he said sharply. The books she had forgotten about were slipping from her grasp. He grabbed them before they could hit the floor. “Having quick hands is a good thing, too, when you’re trying not to fumble a football.” He laughed. “Guess you’re lucky your favorite sport is telephone tag.”

  “Very lucky,” she agreed. At least he had remembered her telling him that. “Although I’ve been known to drop my cell phone once in a while.”

  “Maybe you need to practice holding on to things.”

  “Maybe I do,” she said thoughtfully.

  Turning back to the bookcases, they worked in near-silence for a while. Reagan wiped down and polished the wood until it gleamed. She dusted the books and more knickknacks, handing them to him—one at a time for safety’s sake—to return to the shelves.

  “These bookcases look handmade,” she said.

  “They are.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “Did your father make them?”

  He nodded.

  Frowning, she lapsed back into silence. When they reached the last few knickknacks, she gave conversation another try. She eyed the display, mostly horses and dogs. “Your mama had about as many dust collectors as mine does.”

  “Yeah,” he said shortly. “We’re done with the shelves.”

  Again, she frowned. Today wasn’t the first time he had changed the subject when she had mentioned either of his parents. As curious as she was to know all about Reagan, she hadn’t asked specific questions or attempted to pry. But he had responded even to her most casual comment with simply a nod or a shrug or a new topic. The only history he had shared voluntarily was to acknowledge that the photo pinned to the bulletin board in his room was his mama’s favorite picture, from his family’s trip to California.

  Maybe she needed to find more photos.

  Meanwhile, swallowing a sigh, she handed the last knickknack to him.

  As he set it on the top shelf, the dust cloth he had been using slipped from his hand. It tumbled down to land on her forearm.

  “Who’s the fumbler now?” she asked pertly.

  “Very funny.” He grabbed the cloth and brushed at her arm.

  His fingertips stroked her skin, warming her at the same time it sent a shiver through her. Her bangle bracelets collided with a soft clang. Her heartbeat set off a pounding in her ears.

  And when she looked up again and saw him staring at her, her indrawn breath made the loudest sound of all.

  “Wh-what’s next on the list?” she asked.

  He hesitated. She gripped the cloth in her hand so tightly, she could feel her fingernails shredding the material.

  “Let’s have lunch,” he said.

  * * *

  TOUCHING HER HAD not been part of the plan.

  Reagan sat back in his chair at the kitchen table and glanced at Ally, who was pushing mos
t of her lunch around on her plate.

  He hadn’t known he’d had a plan, let alone that it didn’t include touching her. He’d had to make it up as he’d gone along.

  She had been right earlier. Once he had seen Jed off after their morning break, he had intended to go out to the barn. Instead, somehow his feet had gotten turned around and taken him in the opposite direction.

  Sure, he had thought it was long past time he started on the house, and yeah, he had known she would be there. Once he’d walked into the living room, he had decided he would work at a distance from her, while having the pleasure of seeing her in the same room.

  The pleasure he was taking now.

  A man could look all he wanted. That didn’t mean he could—or should—touch.

  That danged dusting cloth. If not for accidentally dropping it on her arm, he wouldn’t have felt the warmth of her against his palm. He wouldn’t be thinking of that again now, when his focus should be on the next task at hand—and not on putting his hands on her.

  “What do you want to do next?” she asked.

  He started, hoping she hadn’t read his mind. He scrubbed his hand over his eyes—as if that would erase the images all those thoughts had put in his head.

  He knew what he wanted to do next, and it wasn’t a good idea at all.

  She looked across the kitchen at the playpen. “The baby’s still asleep. I don’t think he’ll have much of an opinion.”

  “Probably not. He usually lets me have my own way, anyhow.”

  Her gaze flashed toward him, then down at her plate.

  He focused on his own plate, too.

  When they had come in here for lunch, he fed Sean and put him into the playpen for a nap. Ally made sandwiches from a fresh supply of bread and meat she had picked up this morning at the L-G. She served them with a spicy peppered salad she had brought from home.

  Maybe it was that salad that had gotten him so hot.

  “It makes the most sense to hit the living room again once we’re done with lunch,” he said. “Might as well finish things off in there. But first I’d like to finish this off.” He gestured at the salad.

  “You like it?”

  “Yeah, it’s great. You made it?”

  She shook her head. “No, my mama did. She’s a wonderful cook. Not as good as Paz at the Hitching Post—oops. Forget what I just said.”

  “It’s forgotten. But how about you? Don’t you cook, too?”

  “Some. But my mama tends to rule the kitchen.”

  Her laugh made her dark eyes sparkle. A man could get lost in those eyes. A man who was interested in a relationship, that is. Not him.

  Fighting to keep his thoughts on track, he reached for the plastic container she had left on the table. “Did you want more of this?” he asked.

  “No. All yours.”

  It was a great-tasting salad. It was also nothing like his own mom would have made, but salad or soup along with a sandwich brought back to him many Saturday lunchtimes spent at this table. Not that he wanted to sit here and reminisce about days he’d never see again.

  That ranked about as high on his agenda as contemplating things he couldn’t do with Ally.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS they had cleared up after lunch, Reagan took the vacuum cleaner from the hall coat closet. After he finished cleaning the inside of each of the windows, Ally used the vacuum attachment for the drapes and window blinds. A temporary fix, as they both agreed.

  “I’ll tackle the outside of the windows sometime later this week.”

  “You’ll still be here for a while, then.” She sounded eager.

  He shrugged. “With all the drawers and closets and boxes to empty upstairs, I can see this week here could need to roll into two.”

  Thanks to him and his reluctance to do what he had to inside the house.

  At SugarPie’s, Ally had asked him what had brought him here now. He’d given her the first response to come to mind—he hadn’t had the chance, which was true enough.

  The rest of the answer he hadn’t given Ally was, it had taken him this long to find the willpower to get here. He had too much bad history behind him to want to resurrect any of it.

  For Sean’s sake, he wanted to look forward, not back. But like it or not, he had to pack up all the memories before he could sell this place. It would take longer than he’d thought. And for good or bad, the additional days would give him more chances to be with Ally.

  How long would it take him to find the willpower to stay away from her?

  “You’ll be able to get another week off from work?” she asked.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve still got time coming to me.” He’d had no other reasons lately to use it. And if he needed a few extra days, he’d work out a deal with his boss. “I’ve used some vacation hours taking Sean for his newborn checkups, and that’s about it.”

  “I’ll bet he does well at his appointments. He’s a happy baby, and he’s so good about taking his bottle.”

  “His weigh-ins have sure been proving that.” He realized he was grinning at her like a fool and stopped instantly. “We should keep moving.”

  “Now the windows are done, what about starting on the cupboards on the other side of the room?”

  He looked across at the handcrafted cabinets his dad had installed and shook his head. “Not today. They’re enclosed. We won’t need to worry about them holding too much dust.” They already held too many memories he didn’t want to face.

  He set to work shifting furniture to give Ally access to the floor. If his gaze strayed her way every time she leaned over to run the vacuum into a tight spot, who could blame him? And who knew watching a woman clean house could be so sexy?

  After mentally shaking his head at himself, he turned to burning up his excess energy by following in her wake, putting the furniture back into place as she finished with each area. The work took them the rest of the afternoon, but their efforts were making the place livable.

  Somehow, the thought bothered him. Maybe because he wouldn’t be the one living here.

  Ally put her hands on her hips and turned his way, looking up at him with a smile of satisfaction.

  He stood close enough to notice the thickness of the black lashes outlining her gleaming eyes. Golden earrings flashed against her tanned skin and dark brown curls. Her cheeks were pink again from a little makeup and a lot of exertion. Add in her pink and red and orange blouse and her red bandanna, and the total package made her the most colorful woman he’d ever known.

  “We’re done for now, I think,” she said.

  He’d been done for a while ago.

  This close, he could see a smudge on one of her full, curved cheeks. He reached up with his free hand and brushed the smudge away. Her skin felt smooth and delicate under his rough thumb. The gleam in her eyes turned liquid.

  That reaction shouted a warning for him to get away. He’d ignored his instincts months earlier and had lived to regret it. He wanted to follow them now. He tried to follow them now. But again, his feet took control, bringing him where he’d wanted to be for days now.

  Instead of backing off from Ally as he should have, he moved a step closer.

  Chapter Six

  The stroke of Reagan’s work-roughened thumb against her cheek made Ally’s heart rate speed up. As he stepped closer, her heart started to race. If it began to beat any faster, she would soon be vibrating from head to toe.

  He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against hers. Just that light touch left her lips tingling. Without a second’s pause, she reached up—way up—to rest her hands on his shoulders. She had to touch him, to hold him, to know he was real.

  And he was.

  This was Reagan Chase.

  After all her years of longing fo
r him, Reagan was finally within her reach. Even better, he was kissing her. That kiss gave her the one thing she had always lacked, the one thing she had always needed to spice up her life—the hot, peppery, flavorful taste of Reagan’s mouth on hers.

  He slipped one arm around her, holding her close, making her aware of every place their bodies touched. She was just as aware when he lifted his head and let go of her to step away.

  She looked at him, not realizing she had forgotten to breathe until she was forced to gulp a mouthful of air. His gaze dropped to her blouse for a moment before returning to her face.

  His face looked shell-shocked.

  As if already reading the first warnings, her heart dropped into a sad, thumping beat.

  “I was out of line,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

  Her defenses rose into place. She was Ally Martinez. The Girl Most Likely... She tilted her head and batted her lashes at him. “Well, I’d have called for something like that a long time ago if I had known it was on offer.”

  “It wasn’t. It shouldn’t have been.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with it? We’re both consenting adults.”

  He backed another step and shoved his hands into his back pockets. More than likely, he had no idea the move accentuated the hard curves and planes of his chest.

  “Reagan,” she said, fighting to keep her tone light, “it was only a kiss. I’ll bet you give them out by the dozen and throw in a few extra, the way Sugar does with her sweet rolls.” She wanted to step forward again, as if they were dancing a cha-cha and it was her turn to chase him.

  She would follow him anywhere.

  But his expression told her he would refuse to lead.

  His next words proved it. “I should go check on Sean. The sound of the vacuum might have woken him up.”

  “You mean I should go check,” she countered. “It’s what you hired me for, after all.” When she moved past him, she couldn’t keep herself from brushing up against him, from allowing herself one more touch. Just in case it was the last she would ever have.