“I'm sure she does,” Casie said. “She's a very nice person, but that doesn't meanâ”
“So are you,” he added and tightened his grip on her fingers. Their eyes met. “I just hope you're not being taken advantage of.” From the kitchen, Chris LeDoux was flinging aspersions at cowboys who overstay their welcome. Emily was adding her own hip-hop beat.
“What do you mean?” Casie asked.
Brad sighed. “She doesn't have a record or something, does she?”
“A
record?
”
“I mean . . .” He lowered his voice even more, though there was no way Em could have heard them over her own warbling cacophony. “Do you really think you can trust her? Doesn't it seem kind of strange that you've never even met her before and she's willing to just hang around? Have you . . .” He shrugged. “Have you locked up all the valuables?”
She stared at him, tempted to laugh. “The tractor's a little large to put in a safe.”
He watched her a moment, then chuckled, but behind his humor, his eyes looked strained. “I just want to make sure you're all right.”
“Of course I'm all right.”
“Good, because the nights are getting awfully lonely,” he said and kissed her.
She stiffened. She wasn't a prude. Really, she wasn't . . . it was just that there were kids in the house and, well . . . maybe she was a prude.
“Bradley . . .” She cleared her throat and shifted back a little. “I don't think we should . . . you know . . . while the girls are here.”
He grinned. “But it's been months since we . . .” He waggled his brows at her. “. . . you know.”
She shrugged but the movement felt stiff. “Sorry.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he grinned finally and moved back a few scant inches.
“I almost forgot how self-conscious you are.”
“I'm not self-conscious.”
“Of course not,” he said and laughed as he settled back against the cushions. “So tell me about this Sophie. Is she a friend of the other girl's?”
“Of Emily's? Hardly.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “And it's really my turn to help out with supper.”
“Help out?” His brows lowered again. “She's eating our food for free, isn't she?”
“Like I said, she does a lot of work around here.”
“I'm sure she does,” he said and smoothed his thumb over hers. “How about Sophie?”
She cleared her throat. “What about her?”
“Is she just here for the day or does she come around a lot?”
“Actually . . .” She should have told him this before, of course. They were engaged. Supposed to share everything. But she didn't want to make trouble, especially when he was only going to be here for a short while and telling him about the idea of building the Lazy into a kind of equestrian center was bound to make him upset. Which was fair because . . . it was crazy. But it was exciting, too, in a terrifying sort of way. “She's kind of a guest.”
“How many guests can we afford to feed?”
“Well . . .” She shook her head. Laughed nervously. “Quite a few, if they're like Sophie.”
“What does that mean?”
“She's sort of a . . .” Her face felt warm, flushed with a strange meld of embarrassment and hope. “A student.”
“A student of what?”
“Of . . .” She shrugged. “Me.”
He reared back a little. “What are you teaching? Mud wrestling?”
Uncertainty, guilt, and a couple other emotions converged inside her, but she braced herself and drew a breath. “Her father thought she could learn a lot here.”
“Her father.”
“He's a . . .” It didn't seem prudent to tell him that Phil Jaegar had come by to try to sell the place and ended up giving her a means to keep it. “He's a businessman from Rapid City.”
He whistled low. “All the way from Rapid City.” He grinned, taking some of the sting out of his sarcasm. “And what's he paying for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?”
“Two thousand dollars a week.”
His brows rose. He opened his mouth.
Casie smiled a little. It was nice, finally, to make him proud.
“Two thousand a week.”
“Yeah.”
“That's a lot of money.”
“I know.” Excitement coursed through her at his amazed expression. Some people called her a people pleaser, but what was wrong with trying to make others happy? “I'll be able to buy better hay and . . .”
“Two grand a week and you're making her slop around in the mud like some backwater yokel?”
She blinked. “She's not slopping around in the mud. She's working, Brad. She's helping out. We're teaching her values. Teaching her to look outside herself.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I'm serious.”
“The girl has money and brains and . . . and looks and you're teaching her to . . .” He exhaled a chuckle. “Wrangle cows.”
“Some people see value in the way we yokels live,” she said.
“And that's great, honey. I mean, you're as cute as a button in your cowgirl gitup, but
some
people are practical, Cassandra. Some people would like to be solvent. I happen to be one of thoseâ”
A metallic clang sounded from the kitchen followed by a gasp and a curse.
Casie shot to her feet. Emotions roiled inside her with such ferocity that she dared not speak. Sparing Bradley one last glance, she hurried into the kitchen.
Â
Casie fought her tumultuous emotions like a grizzly. The memories of her parents' feuds made her determined to smooth over the edges of her own life, to make sure the girls didn't feel the ragged discomfort she had known. But neither of them seemed to notice anything unusual. In fact, Sophie carried the dinnertime conversation without seeming to take a breath.
Still, by the time the apple cobbler was served, Casie was exhausted.
“Well . . .” Emily looked as bright as a butterfly, absolutely oblivious to the couple's dark mood. “You two kids go relax. Sophie and I will clean up.”
Sophie pursed her lips and, for a second, Casie thought she would argue, revert back to her old ways, but she glanced at Brad and smiled her agreement. “Absolutely. I'm sure you guys would like some time alone.”
“That's nice of you,” Bradley said, smiling back and rising to his feet. She had almost forgotten how tall he was. “But you girls made the meal.” It wasn't quite true. Sophie wouldn't know how to cook a potato if it came in a box, but he seemed to have taken an instant dislike to Emily and never made eye contact. “Cassandra and I can clean up. It'll give us some time to talk.”
“Are you sure?” For a girl who obviously craved masculine approval, Emily seemed blissfully unaware that he distrusted her.
“Of course.” He reached for his plate, glanced around the kitchen, and chuckled at himself. “No dishwasher, huh?”
“No,” Casie said. She felt old and oddly tired of trying. “Never has been.”
“Well, I've always thought that washing dishes was relaxing.”
Yes, he
had
always relaxed while she washed dishes, she thought, then felt bad about her uncharitable attitude and smiled at the girls. “Go ahead,” she said. “Thanks for the meal. It was great.”
“Okay, but I have midnight cattle check,” Em said. “And Sophie has predawn. Right, Soph?” she asked, turning toward the other girl.
“I'll take your turn, too,” Sophie said.
Casie and Em stared at her as if she'd sprouted antennae.
Sophie shrugged, ultracasual. “I'm going to spend the night with Blue. So I might as well check the cows before and after.”
“Sophieâ” Casie began, but the girl's brows lowered immediately, painfully reminiscent of those first few days together.
“You said I could work with him on my time off. This is my time off.”
Which made it sound, of course, as if she were being kept in a cage with bread and water until she was released to work in the coal mines.
Casie glanced at Emily. But the girl's face was absolutely impassive. It was rather doubtful that Em would object if Sophie insisted on spending the night in the freezer like so much ground beef.
“Well . . .” Casie began, but Brad interrupted her.
“Wait a minute. Who's Blue?”
Casie cursed in silence and forced her lips to crack into a smile. It almost hurt. “He's just a colt we're taking care of for a while.”
“Mr. Dickenson dropped him off,” Emily added.
“What's this?” Brad asked. His brows had dipped a little. Casie's heart rate bumped up a notch. Her stomach clenched. Explanations and apologies trembled on her lips, but Emily jumped in.
“He was on his way to Canada,” she said. “Casie saved him.”
“From what?”
“From being slaughtered. She saved them all.”
“All?” Brad looked very stiff, his handsome face frozen. “There are others?”
“Seven,” Emily said. “Not counting Angel. But Angel is sort of Ty's anyhow.”
Brad held up his hands as if fending off too much information. “Maybe you'd better start from the beginning, Cass.”
“It's just for a while,” she said. “The horses needed a home. And I still have the ranch.”
“Yeah, and why is that again?” he asked.
“It takes time toâ”
“I'm going,” Sophie said. They glanced at her in tandem as she retrieved a sleeping bag from the hall closet. “I'm sure you two would like to fight in private.”
“We're not fighting,” Casie said and forced a smile.
“This is idiotic,” Bradley said. “You can't let her sleep out there.”
A little spark of something flickered in Casie's gut almost singeing her desperation to please. She lifted her chin a little. She'd spent the entirety of her life fighting to avoid conflict. Turned out she was kind of tired of the battle. “Take an extra blanket,” she said, cranking her head toward Sophie. “It's cold out.”
In a minute Sophie was gone. The door shut silently behind her.
“Well . . .” Emily said. “I'm going to bed. Good night.”
The room went quiet. Casie stood up and carried her dishes to the sink. Bradley followed her empty-handed and settled his hips against the counter.
“What's up, Cass?” he asked.
“What do you mean? Nothing's
up
.” She turned on the hot water, filled the sink, then reached past him for the soap.
“You want to call off the wedding, is that it?”
She straightened, blinked. “No. Of course not. I just . . .” She shook her head, waiting for the panic to make itself known, but outside the kitchen window the moon had risen over the wooded cattle pasture. It was nearly full, shining on the earth below like a magical orb. The valley was shrouded in mist, and off to the east the sky was as black as velvet, showing a trillion silvery stars. She drank the sight into her soul like an earthy tonic and almost smiled. “We don't really have a wedding to call off, do we?”
“Is that it?” he asked. “You're tired of waiting? Because if that's how you feel, I'll marry you right now.”
“Really?” She turned toward him in surprise.
“Of course.” He caught her gaze, took her hands. They were wet now and soapy. “I love you, Cassandra. Say the word and we'll drive to town tomorrow.”
“Drive to . . .” She shook her head again, surprised despite herself. “Tomorrow?”
He smiled. “Is that what you want, sweetheart? To be married in a shabby courthouse somewhere with a justice of the peace and his rheumatic wife as witnesses?”
“Well, when you say it like that, how could any red-blooded woman resist?”
He laughed, shook her hands a little. “You deserve so much more.” His eyes were glowing. “Come back with me. As soon as I'm a surgeon, I'll give you everything you could hope for.”
But maybe she didn't know what to hope for anymore. Maybe she never had. She shifted her gaze away.
“But you have to sell this place first,” he said and bent his knees a little so he could look directly into her eyes. “We can't run it from the city. And I can't bear to be away from you any longer.”
“I miss you, too,” she said, sliding her gaze to his.