Undeniable (12 page)

The younger woman shrugged, laying the handful of flatware on the table, going back for plates. “My client list is pretty small. Not much going on at the moment.”

That totally contradicted what Darcy had just said about her workload, but before Arwen could dig for more, footsteps pounded against the back stairs and porch, the screen door whipped open, and Dax burst into the kitchen as if expecting a fire.

Finding company instead, he looked from one woman to the other, his gaze going from fierce to fiercely protective. “Darcy? Arwen? What the hell’s going on?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Arwen said, ignoring the prickling sensation at her nape, the tight pull of her breasts and her belly, waving an arm to indicate the spread laid out on the table. “I brought supper.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He pushed his hat up on his forehead, settled his hands at his hips. “Casper said you were waiting in the kitchen. He didn’t say it was about food.”

Casper walked through the door then, catching the backhanded swing of Dax’s arm to his midsection with a loud, “Oomph.” Boone Mitchell followed on his heels, forcing his way past.

“Don’t do that again,” Dax said to Casper.

“Don’t do what? Let you know you’ve got women waiting for you? Since when?”

Then Casper bullied his way by and headed for the table, leaving Dax looking at Arwen, and Arwen wondering what had gone through his mind to put that look of panic in his eyes.

Wondering, too, why the look of relief that followed felt like a shot to the heart.

N
INETY MINUTES LATER
and hating to go, Arwen scooted her chair away from the table and stood. She wasn’t looking forward to wedging her full-as-a-tick stomach behind the wheel of her truck, but she needed to get back to the saloon for closing. Besides, she doubted any of her supper companions would miss her. Or even notice that she was gone.

Except for Dax. He’d had his eye on her all night.

Sure, he’d exchanged barbs with the boys, argued about grazing and hauling water and all the money they didn’t have. And after making sure his sister was okay, he’d teased Darcy about looking like hell and what exactly might be behind her driving Josh Lasko’s truck.

But even while gnawing on the ribs, his gaze had held Arwen’s, lingering and potent and fiery enough that she couldn’t blame the flush of heat raising her blood pressure on the jalapeños. And,
oh boy, had body parts heated under his entirely inappropriate scrutiny.

The attention of the others, however…

Having shed her suit jacket, shoes, and pantyhose, Darcy stood at the sink washing dishes, muttering to herself in some sort of rejuvenated sense of purpose that Arwen was happy to see. Even lacking experience with a traditional family unit, she could empathize with Darcy’s frustration at having her father dismiss her input, her feelings. Her.

Casper and Boone had the look of men in food comas, eyes closed, boots propped on empty chairs, hands laced on top of bellies filled to bursting. Arwen thought Casper might even be snoring, while Boone chewed on a piece of hay in lieu of a toothpick. No idea where he’d found it because he hadn’t moved since sitting down.

The pans of food, though not emptied, had been nicely dented, and that had her smiling. She hadn’t done the cooking, but she’d provided a much needed and appreciated meal, and there were enough leftovers to feed the boys a second time.

She would’ve provided more if she’d had any clue about the ranch’s capacity for food storage. Then again, she did need to watch the bottom line, because as often as she was accused of running a charity by the girls she hired, she really wasn’t. She just found it hard to say no to someone in need.

“C’mon.” Dax broke into her reverie, hands on his thighs as he pushed to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.” Boone, Casper, and Darcy all chimed in with their waved good-byes and thank-yous.

“Bye, y’all,” she said to the others, then to Dax, “You don’t have to do that,” though she did stop halfway to the door to wait for him, to watch the roll of his hips as his long legs covered the distance, to remember what he felt like inside her and to die a little bit with wanting him. “I think I can find where I parked.”

“Funny girl,” he said with a wink, his hand on the small of her back guiding her onto the porch and down the stairs and across the hard-packed yard.

She let him. Let him lead her, let him touch her, let him take charge of getting her to where she needed to be. Silly, when it was a short walk and she had plenty of steam. But something about this particular Dax Campbell made her want to lean—a something intensified by his near panic ninety minutes ago upon arriving in the kitchen to find her.

And that just wouldn’t do. Leaning was only a few short steps from depending, and losing oneself wasn’t far behind. She knew that. Had watched those emotions destroy her father. Even so, when they reached her truck and Dax held out his hand and said, “Keys,” she handed them to him like a mindless Stepford wife.

He opened her door, but before she could do more than put a foot on the running board, he grabbed her arm and turned her to him, stepping into the vee of open space, blocking her, crowding her, moving in to breathe deeply of her hair.

“Mmm,” he murmured, kissing her temple. “You always smell so good.”

Suppressing a shiver, she brought up her hands between them, thinking to nudge him away and find her control, but flexing her fingers into the muscles of his chest instead. “Right now I smell like barbecue.”

“And oranges. Or lemons. Something fruity and cool.”

Her bath beads. “And I’ll bet when you got out of my tub, you smelled the same way.”

He chuckled, the thrum of the sound like the stroke of his tongue against her skin. “That’s what Darcy meant when she said I smelled like oranges.”

Now that was funny. “Did you tell her why?”

“I didn’t know why.” He stepped back, looked down at her, his gaze flaring.

She cast a glance toward the house, her heart racing, her blood rushing like lava beneath the surface of her skin. She couldn’t afford the things he was making her feel. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. “I imagine she’s figured it out by now.”

He fingered a thick, silky lock of her hair, watched it spread over his fingers, frowning as it caught on a nick of callused skin. “That was a nice thing to do. Bringing the food.”

She shrugged. She had to regain her footing before falling further. “Just making sure you keep up your energy.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, but she could tell he was elsewhere.

She decided to bring him back, to remind herself, too, of where they stood. “Because of you being my whore.”

“Oh, right.” He still wasn’t looking at her, was still lost in her hair.

Lord, what had she gotten herself into? “You say, ‘Oh, right,’ like it’s no big deal.”

He moved in again, nuzzled his nose to her neck, nudged up into her hairline, nipped at her earlobe, and blew over the dampness he’d left till she groaned. “Is it? A big deal?”

It was going to be if she didn’t push him away because, oh, he melted her. She was weak in his presence, spineless when he was near, and she arched her neck, her sex damp and tingling, and because of all that, her voice was harsh when she found it. “Of course it’s a big deal. What kind of question is that?”

He stopped, straightened, gave her the space she wanted, she didn’t want, she wanted. “I don’t know, Arwen. I thought we were playing here.”

She held his gaze, a shift of emotions knocking at her center, and asked, “Here? As in here and now, this moment? Or here, as in you and I hooking up?”

He huffed, shook his head, looked down at the ground then looked back, his eyes darker now, the glint of flirtation pinched out. “Is this like the movie where Julia Roberts didn’t want to kiss Richard Gere? You and I can do the nasty, but I can’t tease you about it?”

“You’ve seen
Pretty Woman
?”

“Show me a guy who hasn’t, and I’ll show you a guy who never figured out how to use a movie to get in a girl’s pants.”

“No, this isn’t like that.” First of all, because she wasn’t a hooker, but more importantly, because falling in love meant losing everything else in her life that was important.

“Then what’s it like?” he asked, pulling off his hat, plowing rows through his hair with his fingers before settling his hat back in place. “And, yes, I want to know, and I’m listening, because I’m sorry. I really can’t figure out what we’re doing.”

Simple. “We’re having sex.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you want more?” They had to resolve this now. She couldn’t deal with revisiting it every time they touched.

He rubbed at his eyes, his frustration as obvious as hers. “No, it’s just—”

“Good, because I don’t either.” There. Black and white. As clear as it could possibly be. “I’ve got a business that takes up all of my time. It provides my living, so it has to be my priority.”

He crossed his arms, leaned against her open door. “We can play without getting serious, you know. And I think with our schedules we could both use the distraction. At least I could.”

“Then you’d better define what you mean by
play
. Just so I’m clear.” And why wouldn’t he drop it? Why was he making this so hard?

“Shit. I don’t know. Dinner. Dancing. A movie. I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie in a theater. Hell, I can’t remember
the last time I saw a movie on DVD. Or the last time I took a date to see one.”

She held his gaze as she hopped into the truck’s cab, thinking she could put an end to this by driving away, realizing too late he still had her keys. “You don’t have to wine and dine me to get in my pants.”

He stared at his feet, kicked the toe of his boot at the dirt, brought his head up and looked at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “What if I
want
to wine and dine you? Show you a good time?”

She took in the sun-darkened skin in the hollow of his throat, the scruff covering his chin and his cheeks, the deep-set grooves at the corners of his eyes. Then she took in his earnestness, his vulnerability.

The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. “Trust me. You’ve been showing me a very good time.”

“But it’s not all about you,” he said, still holding her gaze, his own searching, probing. Daring.

His words took her aback, sending an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. “You’re not having fun?”

“Hell, yeah, I’m having fun.”

But…
He didn’t elaborate, even after she waited, so she asked, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

After several tense seconds, he nodded. “I think I do. And I want popcorn.”

“Popcorn. Okay.” She took a deep breath, draping an arm on the steering wheel. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Movies that don’t star Julia Roberts. No chick flicks or romantic comedies or sick girls who die. What was that one?
Steel Magnolias
? I can’t even tell you how many times I walked in on my mother bawling at that one.”

She laughed. “She’s done suspense, you know. And psychological thrillers.”

“Really?”

“
Erin Brockovich
?
Sleeping with the Enemy
?”

Dax shook his head. “How about some Quentin Tarantino?”

“No gratuitous blood and guts.”

“Fine. You pick the movie. Just make sure there’s no Julia Roberts.”

Oh, please. “No Julia. No blood and guts.”

“Is this what they call a compromise? Because I’d heard it was a great way to deal with women,” he said, and then smiled when she rolled her eyes, his expression full of good times and bad times and really bad good times.

For an extra long moment she remained speechless, her body sizzling, her sex needy. She looked up at him then, nodding, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake by taking this leap of faith. It frightened her to think that she was. Frightened her to think she’d have to call this off if she was.

She didn’t want to call this off, and that frightened her most of all. “I need to go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah,” he said, scrubbing at his jaw. “Though we’re going to have to figure out how to manage popcorn and a movie with our schedules.”

Was he second-guessing this date thing already? “Sunday nights are pretty slow. I can’t take off the whole night, but if you come over once you’re done for the day, I can go into work for close.”

“Control freak?”

“I’m my own business manager. If that makes me a control freak, I cop to it gladly.”

The look he gave her was equal parts heartbreak and exhaustion. “Maybe you could come over here and manage the ranch, turn it around like you did the Buck Off Bar.”

“I thought Faith was managing things for you.”

“Faith is pinching our pennies. We’re on our own after that.”

She’d listened to their dinner conversation, heard more frustration than joy or pride. “Just the three of you? Doing it all?”

He shook his head. “We’ve got Diego Cruz and his brother-in-law part time. Besides Boone and I know what we’re doing. We’ve been ranching all our lives.”

“Just not in Crow Hill.” Where the sun baked the land and the men who worked it, and dried up hopes and dreams along with creek beds and all things green.

As if reading her mind, Dax sighed. “Just not in Crow Hill. But we listened for years to Dave Dalton telling us how things should be done. That may not seem like much, looking at this place now, but he was a rancher to the bone.”

He looked around, shaking his head as he took in the view. “I don’t know what happened here, but I’m gonna blame bad luck and Mother Nature. No one can wrangle either one worth a shit, and more often than not, they plot and plan and gang up on a man.” He focused his gaze on something in the distance, if not all the way in the past. “It’s a tough life. But it’s the only one worth living.”

Unaccountably moved, she cleared her throat and lifted her hand to his cheek. “You surprise me, Dax Campbell. You’re a lot deeper than you let on.”

He waggled both brows. “Does that mean we can go steady?”

“It means you get your date.”

“What if I want another?”