Skyler Hawk: Lone Brave. Sheri WhiteFeather
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smiled. So the big strong cowboy liked junk food. “No problem.”
Sky leaned against the counter as she rummaged through the refrigerator. “You’re different from most California girls.”
She looked up. “I am? How so?”
He cocked his head. “Well, you’re blond and all that, but you’re domestic.”
She wasn’t quite certain how to take the unusual comment. “I guess you don’t know many women who like to cook.”
“Not ones as pretty as you.” He closed the first-aid kit. “Does this go in the bathroom?”
She nodded. He had a way of saying whatever came to mind. And although his compliments weren’t offhanded, they weren’t polished, either. Of course, neither was he.
Sky gathered the soiled cloths and stacked them on top of the first-aid kit. “I’m gonna take a shower. I won’t be long.”
“Okay.”
Enjoying her task, Windy hummed as she cracked eggs into a bowl and added a dash of milk. Next she diced onions and mushrooms, then scooped them into a separate bowl. Before starting the pancake batter, she opened the freezer. Some pre-seasoned hash browns should please Sky as well as a tall glass of orange juice. A simple fruit salad would follow: apples, grapes, bananas, a little whipped cream, tiny marshmallows.
She supposed her domestic qualities weren’t hard to miss. Although she intended to have a successful career, she also wanted a husband and a house full of children. And she didn’t mind admitting it one bit. Too many people didn’t appreciate family values. In her opinion being a parent was the most important job in the world.
And now Sky’s virile presence and charming smile made her long even more for what she didn’t have. A husband. A family. Strange that a man like him could encourage that yearning. Handsome, blue-eyed Sky. The reckless drifter. The rebellious cowboy. Engaging, but not husband material.
When Sky returned, breakfast waited on the table. He stood stiffly at first, staring at the food. Windy wondered if the loner in him wanted to run from the domestic welcome. Luckily the other side of him, the bright-eyed boy, smiled and pulled up a chair. “This looks good.”
Windy poured juice in their glasses, then joined him at the table. She noticed he’d changed into loose-fitting sweatpants. His wet hair looked even longer and his scent suggested a deodorized bar of soap, fresh yet masculine. His bare chest glistened, even through the bruises. Strange, but the purplish discoloration didn’t seem to detract from his charm. They only reminded her of his dangerous, if not heroic, nature.
“You’re not eating much,” he remarked.
She glanced down at the small portions on her plate. “I had some toast earlier.”
Sky attacked his food with gusto, pouring a glob of ketchup over his hash browns. Apparently she had done well, choosing foods he liked. He drenched the pancakes in syrup and moaned when he tasted the omelet. “Do you bake? Cookies, pies. Stuff like that?”
She did for her students on occasion. A vegetarian who counted her caloric intake, Windy rarely indulged in sinful desserts. At the moment Sky reminded her of one of those treats. Mouthwatering and forbidden.
“I bake around the holidays. Pies at Thanksgiving. Cookies and brownies at Christmas.”
“Edith bakes for me,” he said.
“What’s your favorite dessert?”
Sky looked up and laughed. “You don’t want to know.”
Windy tried to guess. “Something with lots of chocolate? Mud pie or double-fudge cake?”
“Nope.”
She sent him a smug smile. “I can always ask Edith.”
“Honey, this isn’t something Edith knows about.” His raised eyebrow made him look wicked, especially with the cuts and bruises. “A pretty woman who smells like vanilla ice cream isn’t something I could tell the old lady to whip up.”
Vanilla ice cream? A pretty woman? Windy narrowed her eyes. “You’re teasing me because of my perfume.”
“Maybe.” He reached for the fruit salad, his lips working into a smile. “Then maybe not.”
She decided it was time to stand up to his machismo. “You’re a flirt, Sky.”
“Yeah.” The smile turned crooked. “I guess I am.”
She wagged her finger, reprimanding him like the modern schoolmarm she was. “I’m used to men flirting. So quit trying to embarrass me. It won’t work.”
Amusement slipped into his grin. “So it won’t embarrass you if I tell you that you remind me of Lady Godiva?”
Lady Godiva, the woman who supposedly rode naked on horseback? Although her heart had dived for her throat, she managed an unaffected shrug. “No.”
“She was the blonde, the one with all the hair who—”
Windy interrupted quickly “I know who she was.” For Pete’s sake, she didn’t need him mentioning the naked part.
Sky finished the last of the fruit salad and reached for his drink. “So, Pretty Windy, do you like to ride?”
“Horses?” Lord, no. She had fallen from one when she was a child. “I think they’re beautiful but I don’t ride.” That sounded better than saying she was too nervous to get back on.
Sky leaned forward. “I could teach you. Trail riding is something everyone should experience. A loyal horse and Mother Earth, there’s nothing else like it.”
He made it sound romantic. “I don’t know. I’m—” She chewed her lip. “I’m—”
“Afraid?” he interjected.
She nodded. Afraid of snakes, afraid of horses. She must have sounded like a basket case—a psychologist who needed her own therapist. “I was bucked off when I was little.”
Instead of the teasing retort she expected, his voice softened. “I’d be patient. Charlie has some gentle trail horses. But if you’re too afraid to mount up by yourself, you could ride with me. In my culture, horses represent power and wealth. And spiritually a horse could enable a holy man to fly through the air in search of Heaven.” His gaze sought hers. “We could take a trip to Heaven.”
Windy’s pulse hammered. Lord, he was beautiful. Did he know how enticing his offer was? “I need to think about it,” she said, telling herself to beware. He would only be in town for three months. A trip to Heaven might leave her yearning for more.
When the conversation lulled, they sat in awkward silence. She toyed with her napkin while he studied the kitchen walls. Now she understood why he flirted. Acknowledging their attraction was easier that way.
Quickly Windy hopped up and began clearing the table. Sky offered to help. As they busied themselves, her brain went into its rational mode. Flirting, even fantasizing was one thing, but falling prey to his charms was another. She imagined summer flings suited him just fine. They were not for her.
He rinsed the dishes, and she loaded them into the dishwasher, but when he glanced up at the window, a glass slipped from his hand. It shattered into the sink.
Windy jumped back, recalling the day her home had been vandalized—the broken china, smashed stereo and cracked television screen. For a brief moment, the fear and nausea returned.
She took a deep, cleansing breath. This was just an accident, that was…
She looked over at Sky. He stood gazing out the window, his hands trembling.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her own discomfort immediately forgotten.
“Huh?” He turned toward her, his eyes glazed, his voice mechanical. “There was