Daddy Wore Spurs. Stella Bagwell
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begins to feel too good to resist. Before your dreams start down a very foolish path.
“I—please—excuse me, Finn. I have to go.”
Before she could let herself weaken, before he could guess the longing on her face, Mariah pulled away from him and raced out of the nursery. She didn’t stop until she was inside her bedroom with the door shut firmly behind her. And by then she was trembling from head to toe.
With her shoulders slumped against the door, she covered her hot face with both hands and sucked in several deep breaths. She’d been through too much to let herself break down now. She needed to show Finn that she was a strong, capable woman. More than that, she needed to convince herself that he was a man she couldn’t fall in love with.
Finn sat at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a mug of half-burned coffee, as he tried to decide what to do next. He’d been sitting there for more than half an hour, waiting for Mariah to show her face again. Since she’d run from the nursery, he hadn’t heard her stirring, and he was starting to wonder whether he should search her out and apologize, or tell her he was leaving for town.
Neither option appealed to him. He wasn’t ready to leave the ranch just yet. Not until the two of them had made definite plans concerning Harry. And he hadn’t done anything he needed to apologize for—except maybe make her face the reality of Harry’s being a Calhoun.
Rising from the table, he walked over to a set of double windows and studied the view behind the house. From this spot, he could just make out a corner of one large barn, a smaller shed and a maze of connecting corrals. Except for a few birds and the wind twisting the leaves, nothing was moving. It was a sad and lonely sight, he thought grimly.
“I see you’ve helped yourself to the coffee. I’m glad. I haven’t been a very good hostess.”
He hadn’t heard her enter the room, and the sound of her voice had him quickly turning to see her walking toward him. While she’d been in her room, she’d put on a pair of faded red cowboy boots and released her hair from its ponytail. Now the long black waves framed her face and rested on her shoulders. Her nose looked as though she’d patted it with a powder puff, while a sheen of pink glossed her lips. She looked sweet and sexy and totally unassuming. And as Finn stared at her, he felt a strange sensation slowing coursing through him. Was this how it felt to be mesmerized by a woman?
“I dug into your brownies, too,” he told her. “They’re good. Did you make them?”
A faint smile touched her lips. It was the first one that Finn had seen on her face and the sight encouraged him. Maybe the short break from him and the baby had put her in a better mood.
“Thanks. I like to bake and cook. Now that Cora is gone I get to do plenty of it.”
“I’ve been listening for Harry. Does he usually cry when he wakes up?”
“Depends if he’s wet or hungry. Most of the time he’s a happy baby. I’ll find him wide-awake just cooing and looking around.” She walked over to the cabinet and dumped the last of the syrupy black coffee into the sink. “We had an intercom system put in after Harry was born. It was rather expensive. But I can go anywhere in the house or out on the porches and still be able to hear every little sound he makes.”
“Dad had one installed in the ranch house years ago. It was rarely used until Rafe and Lilly had their babies. That’s my brother and sister-in-law. They have two kids. A girl, Colleen. And a boy, Austin. He’s just a few months older than Harry.”
She looked at him with interest. “So Harry would have cousins to play with. That is, if he truly is a Calhoun.”
Obviously she was going to point out the question of Harry’s parentage at every turn of their conversation, he thought drearily. Well, if it made her feel better, then so be it. She’d have her bubble busted soon enough.
“Six little cousins. The Calhoun family is big. And I don’t figure it’s quit growing yet.”
“Hmm. Must be nice. To be in a big family. I wouldn’t know.” She rinsed out the coffee carafe, then placed it back on the warmer. “So tell me about yourself and your family. What do you do back in Nevada?”
Rising to his feet, he carried his cup over to where she stood, then rested his hip against the cabinet counter. “I manage the horse division of the Silver Horn Ranch. Along with the cattle, we raise quarter horses for show, cutting and ranch use.”
* * *
Mariah stared at him while trying not to appear shocked. Aimee had simply told her that Finn was a horseman and Mariah had presumed he’d worked as a wrangler for some ranch, or was simply a guy who liked horses. Aimee had never mentioned anything as impressive as the manager of a horse division.
Her head swung back and forth. “We? Uh—you have other men helping you?”
“Why, yes. I thought—” Tilting his head to one side, he studied her. “Apparently Aimee didn’t tell you that my home is the Silver Horn.”
Confused now, she said, “No. She didn’t. And I’m not familiar with that name. Should I be?”
Her question put a look of amused disbelief on his face.
“Most folks on both sides of the state line have heard of the Silver Horn. But with Aimee gone and Stallion Canyon up for sale I guess you don’t keep up with ranching news.”
As long as her father had been alive, Mariah had been proud of Stallion Canyon. Ray Montgomery had poured his heart and soul into the land and the horses, and along the way had provided his daughters with a good home and security. But once he’d died, everything had taken a downhill slide. As the burden of debt had grown heavier on Mariah’s shoulders, she’d started to resent the place that had been her home for twenty years. Yet now, hearing Finn speak as though the ranch was done and finished left a hollowness inside her.
Resting her hand on the cabinet counter, she turned so that she was facing him. “So this Silver Horn where you work—it’s a big outfit?”
He nodded. “I don’t just work there. I live there, too. It belongs to the Calhoun family. My great-grandfather started it many years ago. These days my grandfather Bart—I call him Gramps—is the director of the whole shebang. We run a few thousand head of cattle and usually have two to three hundred horses on hand.”
Mariah was stunned. Why had Aimee kept something like that from her? Had her sister gone after Finn because she’d known he was wealthy, then later changed her mind about pursuing a relationship with him? Dear Lord, it was all so strange, so mind-boggling.
She tried not to sound as dazed as she felt. “Your ranch must cover a lot of acreage.”
“We own several thousand acres and lease that much more from the BLM—the Bureau of Land Management,” he told her.
Mariah felt like a fool. Not only because Aimee had kept her in the dark, but because she hadn’t looked into Finn’s background before she’d called to tell him about Harry. At least she would’ve known what sort of man she’d be facing. But then, a man’s material worth didn’t necessarily speak for his character, she reasoned. And she was quickly learning that Finn wasn’t a man who could be summed up in one short visit.
“I apologize if my questions sound stupid. But Aimee didn’t tell me anything about you. Except that you lived in Nevada and liked horses.”
He shrugged. “Guess that was all that mattered to her. When I told her I lived on the Silver Horn, she seemed to be familiar with the ranch. But we didn’t talk about it that much. She asked about our remuda and the broodmares and a little about the ranch house. It didn’t seem important to her.”
Her thoughts whirled as she gathered the few dirty dishes scattered over the countertop and piled them into the sink. “So Aimee understood you were wealthy?”