Cattleman's Choice. Diana Palmer
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look odd, doing that,” he remarked.
“Why?” she asked with a laugh. “I’m very domestic. I cook, too, or don’t you remember those dinners Uncle used to invite you to?”
“It’s been years since I’ve eaten at your table.”
She stared down at the pot she was filling. How could she possibly confess that she was too uneasy with him to enjoy his company? He disturbed her, unsettled her and she didn’t understand why. Which only made it worse.
“I’ve been too busy for guests,” she said. Her eyes went up to the tattered curtains at the window. “You could use some new curtains.”
“I could use a lot of things,” he said curtly. “This house is falling apart.”
“You’re letting it,” she reminded him. She put the pot on to boil, grimacing at the grease that had congealed and blackened on top of the once-white range.
“There hasn’t been any reason to fix it up before,” he said. “Just me, living alone, not much company. But I’ve hired a construction firm to do some renovations.”
That was startling. She turned to face him, her gray eyes wide and curious. “Why?” she asked without thinking.
“It has something to do with the reason I brought you in here,” he admitted. He finished the cigarette and crushed it out. “I need some help.”
“You!” she burst out.
He glared at her. “Don’t make jokes.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
He hesitated uncharacteristically. His face hardened. “Hell, look at me,” he growled finally, ramming his hands into the pockets of his worn, faded jeans. “You told Patty I was too savage to get a woman, and you were right. I don’t know how to behave in civilized company. I don’t even know which fork to use in a fancy restaurant.” He shifted restlessly, looking arrogant and proud and self-conscious all at once. “I want you to teach me some manners.”
“Me?” Mandelyn exclaimed in shock.
“Of course you,” he shot back. “Who else do I know with a cultured background? I need educating.”
She blinked away her confusion. “After all these years, why now?”
“Females,” he said angrily. “You always have to know it all, don’t you? Every single damned thing…all right,” he sighed roughly, running a hand through his thick hair. “There’s a woman.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She stood there like an elegant statue, staring at him. Patty! she thought. It had to be Patty! It was the only possibility that made sense. His unreasonable anger about what Mandelyn had said to Patty, his sudden decision to renovate the house coinciding with Patty’s return to Sweetwater. So that was it. The invulnerable man was in love, and he thought Patty had become too citified to like him the way he was. So he was making the supreme sacrifice and having himself turned into a gentleman. Pygmalion in reverse.
“Well?” he persisted, glaring at her. “Yes or no?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Surely there’s someone else.”
“Not someone like you,” he returned. His eyes wandered over her, full of appreciation and something much darker that she missed. “You’re quality. A real, honest-to-God lady. No, there’s no one else who could teach me as well as you could.”
She dropped her eyes to the coffee pot and watched it bubble away.
“Look on it as a challenge,” he coaxed. “Something to fill your spare hours. Don’t you ever get lonely?”
Her face lifted and she studied him. “Yes,” she said. “Especially since Uncle died.”
“You don’t date?” he said.
She shifted uncomfortably. There was a reason for that, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him, not now. “I like my own company.”
“It isn’t good for a woman to live alone. Haven’t you ever thought about getting married?”
“I’ve thought about a lot of things. What do you want in your coffee?”
She poured it out and braved the refrigerator for cream. Inside there was a basket of eggs, some unsliced bacon, some moldy lumps and what appeared to have been butter at one time.
“I don’t have any milk, if that’s what you’re looking for,” he muttered.
She gaped at him. “You have hundreds of cows on this ranch, and you don’t have any milk?”
“It isn’t a dairy farm,” he said.
“A cow is a cow!”
“If you want the damned milk, go milk one of them, then!”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. He scowled back. Eventually, she gave in with a sigh and put the cups on the table.
“That’s what I like most about you,” he said as she sat down gingerly in one of the rickety old chairs.
Her eyes came up. “What?”
He smiled slowly, and his blue eyes darkened, glittered. “You fight me.”
Her skin tingled at the way he said it. Before she thought, she said, “You didn’t like it last night.”
His smile faded. He sighed and lifted the cracked mug to his lips. “I was drunk last night.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Things got on top of me. I started thinking about how alone I was….” His eyes shot up, pinning hers. “I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you’d never speak to me again.”
She fidgeted uncomfortably. “We all get depressed sometimes, even me. It’s all right, no harm done.” She touched her lower lip with her tongue. “Well, no permanent harm, anyway,” she added dryly.
“What you told Patty was true,” he said.
“I didn’t really mean that, or what I called you last night,” she said, watching him. “You’re not an unattractive man, Carson.”
“Pull the other one,” he said curtly and put his cup down to light another cigarette. “I’ve finally got a little money, and I’m working on some investments that will pay a good dividend. But there’s nothing about me that would attract a woman, physically or intellectually, and you know it.”
She caught her breath. Did he really believe that? Her eyes wandered slowly over the lean, tough length of him, the powerful muscles of his arms and chest, the narrow flat stomach and long legs. He was devastating physically. Even his craggy face was appealing, if it were shaved and his hair trimmed. She remembered suddenly what Patty had said about how he’d be in bed, and she turned crimson.
He looked up in time to catch that blush and he frowned. “What brought that on?”
She wondered what he’d say if she admitted that she and Patty had been wondering how he was in bed. “Nothing,” she said, “just a stray thought.”
“Twenty-six, and you still blush like a virgin,” he murmured, watching her. “Are you one?” he asked, smiling faintly.
“Carson Joseph Wayne!” she exclaimed.
His blue eyes searched her gray ones. “I didn’t realize you knew my middle name.”
She toyed with her coffee cup. “It was on the deed, when I sold you that ten-acre parcel that used to be part of Uncle’s land.”
“Was it?” He sipped some more of his coffee. “You still haven’t answered me. Will you teach me?”
She went hot all over at the way he said it. “Carson, any