Taming Blackhawk. Barbara McCauley
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suppose I could start my car and you could jump in,” she said thoughtfully. “I’d expect a fifty-fifty split, though.”
Rand felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It felt strange to joke with a woman, especially a beautiful one. His entire adult life, when there’d been interest between himself and a woman, there’d been few preliminaries. There’d been the usual amount of flirting and silly banter, he supposed. But there’d been no pretenses, no long courtships. If he wanted a woman, he simply said so. If she wanted him back, then fine. If she didn’t, then that was fine, too. He respected a woman’s right to say no. There were always more women in the next town he’d drift to.
Not to say that he slept with every pretty female that came along. In spite of the rumors, Rand had always considered himself a man of discriminating—and careful—tastes. He was no fool, and he wasn’t stupid when it came to sex.
He looked at Grace, watched those big, green eyes of hers widen at the sound of a crash from the kitchen. She wasn’t going to be around long enough for him to give it a lot of thought one way or the other, Rand knew. She’d be gone after dinner, and he would never see her again.
And that, he thought as he looked at those gorgeous lips of hers and killer body, was a damn shame.
Unlike the worn and neglected exterior, the inside of the Sloan house was neat and tidy and clean. The furniture was utilitarian: a plain brown sofa and chair in the living room, maple coffee and end tables. A bookcase filled mostly with history and ranching books. No TV, no DVD or video equipment, not even a stereo, that Grace could see. Simple and practical and down to the basics, would best describe the Sloan residence.
It wasn’t a cold house, but it wasn’t exactly a warm one, either. Except for the dining room, Grace thought, where the family had gathered around an oval pine table to eat. She felt comfortable here, relaxed. Well, not completely relaxed. It was pretty difficult to truly relax with Rand sitting across from her, those incredible black eyes of his watching her. Not that he was staring. In fact, it seemed that every time she’d looked at him, he was intentionally not looking at her.
Nevertheless, she felt his eyes on her, felt the intensity of that dark gaze. No man had ever made her so…aware. Of him, of herself, of everything around them. The feeling confused her, made her unsteady. It also annoyed her that she was being such a nervous Nelly. Such a scaredy-cat. A big, fat—
“Chicken?”
Startled, she snapped her gaze to Rand. “What?”
“Would you like a piece of chicken?” He held a large platter of fried chicken in front of her.
“Oh. Yes, of course.” She helped herself to a leg and smiled at Mary. “This all looks wonderful.”
A person would have thought that an entire football team was coming to dinner instead of three men, Grace thought. Mile-high, fluffy mashed potatoes beside a tureen of velvety brown gravy; a heaping bowl of baby peas; golden, steaming biscuits with a tub of honey-sweetened butter. The smell alone was enough to make Grace’s mouth water.
And when she took a bite of the chicken, it was all she could do not to groan. Mary’s sons, on the other hand, were not subject to the same restraint. Every one of them, including Rand, expressed their pleasure with sighs and groans and enough compliments to make Mary beam with delight.
“Lord, I’ve missed your cooking,” Matt said around a bite of biscuit. “When you sell this place and move, I’m just gonna have to follow.”
“You’re selling the ranch?” Grace asked as she scooped up an extra ladle of gravy. She didn’t care if she had to do three extra miles on her treadmill at home. This meal was worth every calorie.
“She’s moving to Sin City,” Sam said. “Las Vegas, Nevada.”
“I have a brother there,” Mary said. “I haven’t seen him in ten years. It’ll be nice to catch up.”
Grace listened while they all talked about Mary’s move and their uncle Steve. It seemed odd to her that not once was there any mention of the funeral or Edward Sloan. No shared memories of their life together. And not one person had stopped by to pay their respects. It was almost as if the man had never existed.
“My mom says you’re from Dallas, Grace,” Sam said, interrupting her thoughts. “What do you do there?”
She glanced at Rand, who appeared intent on buttering a biscuit. She’d promised not to mention the wild horses, but she supposed it was all right to mention the foundation. “I work with Edgewater Animal Management,” she said.
“I saw an article in the Dallas Chronicle about Edgewater Animal Management.” Matt teased his mother by reaching for her already buttered biscuit. Without missing a beat, Mary slapped her son’s hand and kept on eating. “If I remember correctly, the piece mentioned its founder was the daughter of some mega-millionaire Dallas businessman.”
“Probably some spoiled, buck-toothed debutante who wouldn’t know the backside of a mule if it stared her in the face,” Sam muttered.
“I do believe I would know,” Grace said curtly and stared at Sam.
There was a long beat of silence, then Sam’s eyes widened, and he had the decency to blush. Matt and Mary both started to laugh, and even Rand had a grin on his face. Sam took his knife and made motions of cutting his wrists.
“Hot damn, Grace,” Matt said, still laughing. “Any woman who can put my brother in his place is the woman I want to marry.”
“The fact that she’s beautiful and rich don’t hurt, either,” Sam added. “Come on, Matt, I’ll arm wrestle you for her.”
Mary shook her head at her sons’ nonsense while she offered Grace more chicken. Grace declined, shocked that Matt and Sam actually had their elbows on the table and hands locked, ready to wrestle. Never in her life had she seen anything like this. Dinner at her parents’ house was always quiet and sedate, a five-course meal prepared by a cook and served by a maid on fine china and linen tablecloths.
Dinner with the Sloan family was like getting on a roller coaster at Six Flags, Grace decided. An exciting, fun, adventure-filled ride that took your breath away.
Rand was the only one that held back, she realized. Not that he wasn’t at ease with his family. He was. But there was something about Rand that Grace couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was subtle, but he was different somehow from his brothers.
He was watching her now, she knew, ignoring his brothers’ shenanigans and focusing his attention on her. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. The worst of it was, she couldn’t look away.
“If you want that chocolate cake,” Mary said to her sons, “you boys best get your elbows off that table. I taught you better manners than that. And, Rand, stop staring at Grace. You’re embarrassing her. Just look at her, she’s all red in the face.”
Grace dropped her gaze. She hadn’t been embarrassed, she’d simply been hot and extremely bothered. But she couldn’t very well tell Mary that.
The meal finished in relative peace—relative being a very broad term when it came to the Sloans. Sam and Matt flirted shamelessly with her, plus there were more wisecracks and insults between the brothers. Even Rand jumped in a time or two, but for the most part he was silent and thoughtful, as if his mind was somewhere else.
When Mary rose to get the cake, Rand told her to sit right back down, then looked at his brothers. Matt and Sam went out the front door, with Mary wanting to know what all the fuss was about. The two younger Sloan boys came back in a few moments later, carrying a large, blanket-covered box. They set it down at their mother’s feet and pulled the blanket back.
“Happy Birthday, Mom,” Sam said quietly.
It was a thirty-five-inch color TV with remote control and picture-in-a-picture feature.
Mary stared, then blinked furiously, got up without a word and walked