A Husband For Christmas. Diana Palmer
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thought of it like that.”
“Suppose you start.”
She wrapped her arms around her trembling body. “You can’t know how it is for a woman,” she murmured. “Against a man’s strength...”
“I can remember a time in your life when you very much liked being helpless against mine,” he said under his breath.
“That was different. I knew you’d never hurt me.”
“You knew that this afternoon, but you fought me like a wildcat.”
She flushed. “You hurt me!”
His jaw tightened. “Do you think because I have to be hard with my men that I’m that hard inside? You get under my skin like no other woman ever has. You deliberately needle me and then take offense when I defend myself. It’s always been that way.”
“I never thought you could be hurt,” she murmured, avoiding his piercing gaze. “Least of all by me.”
“Why talk about it?” he asked wearily. “It’s all water under the bridge now.”
“Thanks for the therapy session,” she said softly and smiled, because she meant it.
He smiled back. “Did it help?”
She nodded. Her eyes searched his. “Cade, I’m sorry I screamed this afternoon.”
He reached down and smoothed a lock of hair from her face. “I didn’t know. Now I do. Give it time—you’ll be fine. I’ll help.”
“Thanks for letting me come.”
He looked strange for a minute. “When Melly said you wanted to get here early for the wedding, so you could spend some time on the ranch, I didn’t know the real reason. I thought...” He dropped his hand with a gruff laugh. “You can still sleep with me, if you want. I wouldn’t touch you.”
Her soft eyes searched his, and he looked back as if it were beyond his power to remove his eyes from hers. “Calla and Melly would be shocked to the back teeth,” she whispered, trying to joke about it and failing. It would have been heaven to lie in his arms all night. “But thank you for the offer.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t for purely selfless reasons,” he said, winking at her. “Bed’s damned cold in early spring,” he chuckled.
She hit him softly. “Beast!”
“Think you can sleep now?”
She nodded. “I feel a little different about it. Maybe I just need time to put things into perspective, after all.”
“If you’d like something to occupy your mind, I’ll take you out to see the rest of the calves in the morning.”
“Oh, boy,” she said enthusiastically. “But what if it snows again?” she asked. “It was awfully cloudy this afternoon and cold as blazes and the radio says—”
“When has snow ever stopped me?” he asked, chuckling. “Night, honey.” He turned and strode off toward the stairs.
When has anything ever stopped you? she asked herself silently.
Except once...she’d never realized until now that he’d really wanted her that night. He’d been so cool and calm on the surface that she’d halfway convinced herself he had only been satisfying her curiosity to keep her from experimenting with younger, more hot-blooded males. But now she began to wonder. She was still wondering when she fell into a deep, satisfying sleep.
Cade had offered to take Abby back to see the calves, but by morning the snow had covered Painted Ridge and he was out with his men trying to bring in the half-frozen calves and their new mothers. According to Hank, Cade was cursing a blue streak from one end of the ranch to the other.
“Wants his other gloves,” Hank growled at Calla when he paused in the hall, the familiar wad of tobacco tucked into his cheek. “Ruined a pair trying to unhook one of them damned cows from the barbed wire.”
“He goes through gloves like some men go through food,” Calla grumbled, shooting an irritated glance at Hank for interrupting her in the middle of lunch preparation. “Only got one pair left as it is. You best remember to tell him that!”
“Can’t tell him a damned thing,” Hank muttered, waiting uncomfortably in the hall. His wide-brimmed hat was spotted with melted snow, and his heavy cloth coat was equally damp. “He hit the ground cussing this morning and he ain’t stopped yet. I just follow orders, I don’t give ’em!” he shouted after Calla.
“Is it bad out there?” Melly called from the den, where she was busily operating Cade’s computer.
“Bad enough,” Hank replied. “Hope your fingers are rested, Miss Melly, ’cause you’re sure going to do some typing when we get a tally on these new calves!”
“As usual.” Melly laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Hank, I get paid good.”
“If we got paid what we was worth, Cade would go in the hole, I guess,” the thin cowboy said to no one in particular. He glanced at Abby, who was standing there quietly in her jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater. “I hear you’re going to stay with us till Miss Melly’s wedding. How’re you settling in?”
She smiled. “Just fine. It feels like old times.”
“Far cry from the city,” he observed.
She nodded. “Less traffic,” she said with a hint of her old humor.
Hank looked disgusted. “Give me a horse any day,” he muttered, “and open country to ride him in. If God wanted the world covered in concrete, he’d have made human beings with tires!”
It was the cowboy’s favorite theme, and Abby was looking for a way to escape before he had time to get started when Calla came thumping back down the hall with a worn pair of gloves in her hand.
“Here,” she said shortly, slapping them into Hank’s outstretched hand. “And make sure he doesn’t get holes in them. That’s all there is.”
“What am I, a nursemaid?” he spat out. “My gosh, Calla, all I do is babysit cows these days. If Cade gave a hang about my feelings, he’d give me some decent work.”
“Maybe he’ll set you to digging post holes,” the older woman suggested with malicious glee. “I’ll tell him what you said.”
“You do,” he threatened, “and I’ll tell him what you did with that cherry cake he had his heart set on the other night.”
She sucked in a furious breath. “You wouldn’t dare!”
He grinned, something rare for Hank. “You tell him I like digging post holes, and I’ll do it or bust. Bye, Abby, Melly,” he called over his shoulder as he stomped out the door.
“What did you do with Cade’s cherry cake?” Abby asked with a sideways stare.
Calla cleared her throat and walked back toward the kitchen. “I gave it to Jeb. Cade’s not the only one who’s partial to my cherry cake.”
Abby smothered a chuckle as she wandered into the den. With its bare wood floors, Indian rugs and wood furniture, it was a far cry from the luxury of the living room.
Melly looked up as Abby came toward the desk where the computer and printer were set up. “I didn’t want to desert you last night,” she said apologetically. “Did you tell him?”
“I had to,” Abby admitted, perching herself on the edge of the chair beside Melly’s. “You know Cade when he sets his mind on something. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. He didn’t even say ‘I told you so.’”
“I