Buckhorn Beginnings Read online

  “Twenty-four.”

  “How old are you?”

  She looked at him suspiciously, as if he’d asked for her Social Security number. After a long hesitation, she admitted, “I’m twenty-five.”

  He whistled. “Must have been rough for your father, two kids so close in age and your mother gone.”

  She waved that away. “He hired in a lot of help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “You know, nannies, cooks, tutors, pretty much everything. My father spent a lot of time at work.”

  “Didn’t he do anything with you himself?”

  She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “Not a lot. Dad wasn’t exactly thrilled to have daughters. I think that’s what he hated most about Mother dying—she hadn’t given him a son yet. He thought about remarrying a lot, but he was so busy with his business, and he worried that someone would divorce him and get part of it. He was a little paranoid that way.”

  Sawyer looked her over, searching her face, seeing the signs of strain. She’d put up a brave front, but he could see the hurt in her blue eyes and knew there was a lot about her life that hadn’t always been satisfactory. “Sounds like a hell of a childhood you had.”

  Color washed over her cheeks, and she ducked her face. “I didn’t mean to complain. We had a lot more than most kids ever do, so it wasn’t bad.”

  Except it didn’t sound like she’d had a lot of love or affection or even attention. Sawyer had always appreciated his family, their support, the closeness, but now he realized just how special those things were. They came without strings, without restriction or embarrassment, and were unconditional.

  She was still looking bashful over the whole subject, so he decided to let it drop. At least for now. “I guess if you’re going to take that bath, we should get on with it or you’ll miss dinner. And Jordan really outdid himself tonight for you.”

  “Now Jordan’s cooking?”

  He shrugged. “We take turns. Nothing fancy. I told him to make it light since I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to. He’s got chicken and noodles in the Crock-Pot, and fresh bread out of the bread machine.”

  She shook her head. “Amazing. Men who cook.”

  Laughing, Sawyer reached for her and helped her out of the bed. She clutched at the top blanket, dragging it off the mattress and disturbing the cat, who looked very put out over the whole thing. Honey apologized to the animal, who gave her a dismissive look and recurled herself to sleep.

  “You’ll have cat hair in the bed.”

  “I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s your bed.”

  “You’re sleeping in it.”

  They stared at each other for a taut, electric moment, then Honey looked away. Her hands shook as she busied herself by wrapping the blanket over and around her shoulders. It dragged the ground, even hiding her feet.

  He supposed that was best; even though the jersey covered her from shoulders to knees, he didn’t want his brothers ogling her—and they would. They were every bit as aware of an attractive woman as Sawyer, and Honey, in his opinion, was certainly more attractive than most. His brothers might not comment on the sexy picture she made with her hair disheveled, her feet bare and her slender body draped in an overlarge male shirt, but they’d notice.

  She seemed steadier now, but he kept his right arm around her and held her elbow with his left hand, just in case. She was firmly in his embrace, and he liked it.

  To get his mind off lusty thoughts and back on the subject at hand, he asked, “Don’t you know any men who cook?”

  She sent him an incredulous look. “My father’s never even made his own coffee. I doubt he’d know how. And my fiancé took it for granted that cooking was a woman’s job.”

  They’d almost reached the door, and Sawyer stopped dead in his tracks. His heart punched against his ribs; his thighs tightened. Without even realizing it, his hands gripped her hard as he turned her to face him. “You have a fiancé?”

  Her eyes widened. The way he held her, practically on her tiptoes, pulled her off balance, and she braced her palms flat against his chest. He saw her pupils dilate as awareness of their positions sank in. “Sawyer…”

  Her voice was a whisper, and he barely heard her over the roaring in his ears. He pulled her a little closer still, until her body was flush against his and her heartbeat mingled with his own. “Answer me, dammit. Are you engaged?”

  She didn’t look frightened by his barbaric manner, which was a good thing since he couldn’t seem to get himself in hand. That word fiancé was bouncing off his brain with all the subtlety of a bass drum. If she was going to be married soon… “Not…not anymore.”

  “What?” He was so rattled, he wasn’t at all sure he understood.

  “I’m not engaged, not anymore.”

  Something turbulent and dangerous inside him settled, but in its place was a sudden blast of violent heat, an awareness of how much her answer had mattered to him.

  He looked down at her mouth, saw her parted lips tremble, and he went right over the edge. He leaned down until he could feel her warm breath on his mouth, fast and low, and the vibrancy of her expectation, her own awareness.

  And then he kissed her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HONEY CLUTCHED at him, straining to make the contact more complete. Her blanket fell to the floor in a puddle around her feet. She barely noticed.

  She didn’t think about what was happening, and she didn’t think about pulling away. Overwhelmed by pure sensation, by heat and need she’d never experienced before, she wanted only to get closer. She’d thought the attraction was one-sided, but now, feeling the faint trembling in Sawyer’s hard body, she knew he was affected, too.

  Sawyer’s mouth was warm and firm, and he teased, barely touching her, giving her time to change her mind, to pull back. Until she groaned.

  There was an aching stillness for half a heartbeat, then his mouth opened on hers, voraciously hungry, and his hands slid around to her back, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. She felt the hot slide of his tongue and the more brazen press of his swollen sex against her belly. A delicious sensation of yearning unfurled inside her, making her thighs tingle and her toes curl. Her fever was back, hotter than ever.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  They both jumped apart, Sawyer with a short vicious curse, Honey with a strained gasp. She almost fell as her feet tangled in the forgotten blanket, and would have if Sawyer hadn’t reached out and snagged her close again. He stared down into her face, his expression hard, his gaze like glittering ice, then called out, “What?”

  The door opened and Jordan stuck his head in. He took one look at them, made a sheepish face and started to pull it shut again.

  Sawyer caught the doorknob, keeping the door open. “What is it?”

  Honey fumbled for the blanket, wishing she could pull it completely over her head and hide. It was so obvious Jordan knew exactly what he’d interrupted. Yet she’d only known Sawyer a day and a half, less if you counted how much she’d slept.

  It didn’t matter to her body, and not really to her heart.

  “Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes.” Jordan glanced at her, gave a small smile at her fumbling efforts to cover herself and again tried to sidle out.

  “Can you make it twenty?” Sawyer asked, apparently not the least uncomfortable, or else hiding it very well. “She was just about to bathe.”

  Jordan slanted her an appraising look, and Honey wanted to kick Sawyer. She was off balance, both emotionally and physically. That kiss…wow. She’d never known anything like it. How the hell could he stand there and converse so easily when she could barely get the words to register in her fogged brain? And how could he manage to embarrass her like that?

  Firmly, but with a distinct edge to her croaking voice, she said, “I don’t want you to hold up dinner on my account.” She made a shooing motion with her free hand, trying to be nonchalant. “Just go on and eat. Really.” />
  Jordan caught her fluttering hand and grinned. “Nonsense. We can wait. Morgan is running a little late, anyway. He had some trouble in town.”

  She felt Sawyer shift and tighten his arm around her. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Nothing serious. A cow got loose from the Morrises’ property and wandered into the churchyard. Traffic was backed up for a mile.”

  Honey tilted her head, thrilled for a change of topic. “The cow was blocking traffic?”

  “No. Everyone just stopped to gawk. Around here, a cow on the loose is big news.” Then, with a totally straight face and a deadpan voice, Jordan added, “Luckily, the cow wasn’t spooked too badly by all the attention.”

  Honey bit back her smile.

  At that moment, the cat leaped off the bed to twine around Jordan’s ankles. Without even looking down, he scooped up the small pet and cuddled her close, encouraging the melodic, rumbling purr. To Honey, he said, “Go on and take your bath. There’s no rush.”

  They stepped into the hallway en masse, two powerful men, an ecstatic cat and a woman wrapped head to toes in a blanket. They nearly collided with Casey, who was liberally caked in mud. He’d removed his shoes so he wasn’t tracking anything in, but mud was on his legs clear to his knees. The shirt he’d worn, thanks to her interference—she still didn’t know what had come over her—was dirt-and sweat-stained. He looked more like a man than ever.

  Holding up both hands, Casey said, “Don’t come too close. The fields are drenched and muddy as hell…uh, heck. And half that mud is on me.”

  Jordan clapped him on the back. “Well, you’ll have to use Gabe’s shower, because the little lady wants a bath.”

  Casey stared at her.

  Honey deduced that the phenomenon of having a female bathing in the all-male household warranted nearly as much attention as a cow on the loose.

  Her face was getting redder by the second. If she didn’t have a fever, she soon would. Never in her life had bathing been such an ordeal, or been noted and discussed by so many males.

  The front door slammed, and not long after, Morgan rounded the hall, already stripping his shirt off with frustrated, jerky movements. Powerful, bulky muscles rippled across his broad shoulders and heavy chest as he stamped around the corner of the hall. He had his hands on the button to his tan uniform slacks when he realized he had an audience.

  He didn’t look the least discomforted at being caught undressing in the middle of the day, in the middle of the house, in front of a crowd.

  “Sorry,” he grumbled without an ounce of sincerity, and yanked his belt free. “I’m just heading for the shower. It must be ninety out there, and the damn humidity makes it feel like a sauna.” He pointed an accusing finger at Jordan. “It was only the thought of a cool shower that kept me from kicking that damn ornery heifer, who no matter what I tried, refused to budge her big spotted butt.”

  Jordan laughed out loud, gleefully explaining, “Your shower will have to wait because—”

  Honey, knowing good and well he intended to announce her bath once again, pulled loose from Sawyer and stomped on Jordan’s toe. Since he had on shoes and she didn’t, he looked more surprised than hurt. He stared down at his foot, but then so did the rest of the men. They all looked as if they expected to see a bug to account for her attack. When no bug was found, all those masculine gazes transferred to her face, and she lifted her chin. Just because they were men didn’t mean they had to wallow in insensitivity.

  Jordan blinked at her, one brow raised high, and she quickly stepped back to Sawyer’s side.

  Her bravado wilted under Jordan’s questioning gaze. Oh, God, she’d assaulted him! In his own home and in front of his family. Sawyer chuckled and put his arm around her.

  Morgan stared at her with bad-tempered amusement. “Wanting a long soak, huh? I suppose I can use Gabe’s shower…”

  Casey stepped forward. “After me. I claimed it first.”

  “I’m older, brat.”

  “Doesn’t matter!” And then Casey took off, racing for the shower. With a curse, Morgan started after him.

  Honey wanted to slink back to bed and hide. The bath, which had sounded so heavenly moments before, now just seemed like a form of public humiliation. She was tired and her throat hurt and her head was beginning to ache. She turned to Sawyer, stammering, “I can wait.”

  Sawyer stared at her mouth.

  Jordan stepped up and steered them both down the hall as if they were nitwits who needed direction. “Nonsense. Go take your soak. You’ll feel better afterward.” He limped pathetically as he walked, and Honey had the sneaking suspicion he did it on purpose, just to rattle her, not because she’d actually hurt him.

  They were a strange lot—but she liked them anyway.

  WARM WATER covered her to her chin, and she sighed in bliss. Finally, she felt clean again.

  Where Sawyer had found the bubble bath, she didn’t know, but she seriously doubted any of his brothers would lay claim to it. She smiled, wondering what they all thought of her. From the little bit she’d seen of them, they had a lot of similarities, yet they were each so different, too.

  Of course, that might make sense considering their mother was evidently remarried. Honey couldn’t imagine marrying once, much less twice. After the way her fiancé had used her, she wanted nothing to do with matrimony.

  “You all right in there?”

  “I’m fine. Go away.”

  “Just checking.”

  She smiled again. Sawyer had been hovering outside her door for the entire five minutes she’d been in the tub. He was something of a mother hen, which probably accounted for his chosen profession. He was meant to be a doctor. Everything about him spoke of a natural tendency to nurture. She liked it; she liked him. Too much.

  The ultrahot kiss… Well, she just didn’t know what to think of it. Her lips still tingled and she licked them, savoring the memory of his taste. She’d almost married Alden, yet he’d never kissed her like that. And she’d certainly never thought about him the way she thought about Sawyer.

  She’d known Alden two years and yet had never really wanted him. Not the way she wanted Sawyer after less than two days.

  What would have happened if Jordan hadn’t interrupted? Anything, nothing? She simply wasn’t familiar enough with men to know. Not that familiarity would have helped, because she knew, even in her feverish state and even without a wealth of experience, Sawyer was different from most men. He was unique, a wonderful mix of pure rugged masculinity and incredible sensitivity.

  He’d run the bathwater for her, placed a mat on the floor and fresh towels at hand and stacked her cleaned jeans and T-shirt on the toilet seat. All without mentioning the kiss and without getting too close to her. After he’d gotten everything ready, he’d looked at her, shook his head, then left with the admonition she should take as long as she liked, but not so long she got dizzy or overtired herself.

  She intended to linger just a few minutes more. In all likelihood, the brothers would hold dinner for her. From all indications they enjoyed the novelty of having a woman underfoot and wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to make her the center of attention again, as if she alone was the sole entertainment. She wasn’t used to it, but she supposed she’d manage. For now, they were probably still organizing their own bath schedule, but how long would that take? Alden had always taken very short showers, his bathing a business, not a pleasure, whereas she’d always loved lingering in the water, sometimes soaking for hours.

  She drained the tub and stepped out onto the mat. The steamy bath had relieved her throat some, and her muscles felt less achy after the soak. The towel Sawyer had provided was large and soft, and she wrapped herself in it, wishing she could just go back to bed and sleep for hours but knowing she wouldn’t. She wanted to learn more about the brothers, she wanted to see the rest of the house and she needed to decide what to do.

  She saw the edge of her peach panties showing from under the shirt, and she blushed. So
mehow, the fact that Sawyer was now familiar with her underwear made their entire situation even more intimate, which meant more dangerous if she was honest with herself. How long would it take someone to figure out she was here? In a town this small, surely news traveled fast. Any strangers in town would have no problem finding her.

  If she were smart, she’d forget her attraction to Sawyer, which weakened her resolve, and hightail it away as soon as possible.

  “You about done in there?”

  There was a slightly wary command to Sawyer’s tone now. She grinned and called out, “Be right there. I’m getting dressed.”

  Silence vibrated between them, and Honey could just imagine where his thoughts had gone. She bit her bottom lip. Sawyer was too virile for his own good.

  She heard him clear his throat. “Do you need any help?”

  She almost choked, but ended up coughing as she finished smoothing her T-shirt into place. She pulled the door open and said to his face, “Nope.”

  His gaze moved over her slowly, from the top of her head, where she had braided her long hair and then knotted it to keep it dry, to her T-shirt and down her jeans to her bare feet.

  She bit her lip. “I don’t know what happened to my sandals.”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone?”

  He shook himself, then met her steady gaze. “Yeah. One fell off in the lake and sank. The other might still be in your car—I dunno. At the time, I wasn’t overly worried about it, not with an unconscious woman in my arms.”

  “Ah.”

  “You’re not wearing a bra.”

  “You can tell?” She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and started to go back into the bathroom to look for herself in the mirror. Sawyer caught her.

  He slowly pulled her arms away and held them to her sides. She didn’t stop him. Everything she’d just told herself about staying detached faded into oblivion under his hot, probing gaze.

  There they stood in the middle of the hallway, only a foot apart, and somehow fear, sickness and worry didn’t exist. All she could think of was whether or not he’d kiss her again, and if he found her satisfactory. She’d always been pleased with her body, but then, she wasn’t a man.