Marrying O'malley. Elizabeth August
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She’d saved Blue Thunder because he had meant so much to Wolf. And another truth refused to remain ignored. She’d gone by Wolf’s grave because she’d missed him. It wasn’t rational but it was true.
Again Wolf noted that she didn’t appear happy about the obligations she’d felt toward him or Blue Thunder. But he owed her for keeping his horse alive, and maybe his crack about her femininity had been a little unfair. “As I recall, you don’t look so bad in a dress.”
Startled by this sudden change in subject, she stared at him in confusion as a slow curl of pleasure began to weave its way through her.
“Just my way of trying to make peace between us,” he said in answer to the question in her eyes.
The glow of pleasure died. His remark hadn’t been a compliment. It had been an appeasement. “Do you think that’s really possible?” she asked dryly.
“Could be that it’s not. Could be that your granddad’s right and we’re natural-born antagonists. But we could give a truce a try.” He held his hand out toward her. “Shake on it?”
She’d never enjoyed being at odds with him. The thought of making peace appealed to her. “My guess is that this will be an exercise in futility, but I’m always game for a challenge and this should be a big one.”
As his hand encased hers, his touch felt like fire, igniting concern. “Are you running a temperature?” she asked, setting her plate aside and rising so that she could press her free hand against his forehead. His temperature was normal. “I guess not.” Freed from the handshake and breaking the contact with his face, she frowned in confusion. “Your hand seemed so hot.”
“Could have been nerves. Us declaring a truce has got to have been a shock to your system,” he quipped.
“True,” she agreed, reseating herself and picking up her plate.
And mine, too, Wolf thought. Her touch on his forehead had felt incredibly soothing...an effect he’d never expected to experience from her. “Will you join your grandfather and me?”
“I’ll come in for dessert,” she replied, wanting a little more time on her own.
Figuring he’d done all he could to promote peace, Wolf nodded and headed to the door. But as he passed her chair, he had the most tremendous urge to give her pigtail a pull. Talk about residual childish urges, he mocked himself, recalling how in his youth he’d given in to that urge once and been rewarded with a punch in the stomach. I came to make peace not war, he reminded himself and continued inside.
“Sarita still mad at us?” Luis asked when Wolf entered the kitchen and again took his seat at the table.
“She’s agreed to a truce between me and her,” Wolf replied.
“Considering the way you two have bickered from the time you were tots, keeping that truce seems about as probable as a leopard changing its spots.”
So we’re all three in agreement on that point. A sour taste filled Wolf’s mouth, and he realized that he’d been hoping the truce would last. He was tired of the animosity between him and Sarita. Or maybe he was feeling a little desperate for allies. Mentally, he chastised himself. Katherine had taught him to stand alone. He didn’t need anyone but himself.
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