12 Borrowing Trouble (10 page)

Dylan noticed his saddle
on the man’s hip.  He’d left it in the aisle, because he didn’t want to have to drag it back to the tack room if they were going riding.  “I was going riding,” Dylan replied defensively.  It was odd, but he was starting to understand the man’s language, even with his nose packed with gauze.  And he wasn’t going to get mad at him this time, because he had a right to be pissed.  He got up out of the chair and walked to the door.  “Give me the saddle, and I’ll put it up.”

Without thought
, he reached for it with his right hand.  Zane released the weight and the saddle fell to the ground, as excruciating pain shot up to his shoulder.  Losing his breath, Dylan dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder.  Zane crouched beside him.  “You okay, mate?  Should I get Terri?”

Sucking
in a breath, Dylan pushed up to his feet.  “I’ll go to the med shack and see her.  Can you put the saddle away for me?  I don’t think I’ll be needing it.”

“Sure thing,” Zane
replied, eyeing him with concern.  “I’m er, sorry about our tangle at the bar.  It was foolish.”

Dylan didn’t want to talk about that right now.  He needed pain meds and he needed them now.  It felt like someone was shoving a hot iron in his shoulder.  “Yeah, I’m sorry too.  It was stupid,” he agreed.  Fighting over any woman was stupid, especially the one who had stood him up this afternoon.
   “I’ll be better in a few days, so I can help you,” he grumbled as he passed by Zane to leave the office. 

Dylan
sure hoped so anyway.    Only time and a doctor would tell.  As soon as he could think straight around the pain in his shoulder, that’s the first person he was going to call.  A doctor.

Dylan didn’t find Terri at the med shack, so he went to the house.  It was as good an excuse as any to nose around
to see if Carrie Collins was in the house too.  Or find out where the hell she had gone.   Penny was the only one in the kitchen  when he walked through the back door.  She was standing at the sink washing dishes.   On their own, Dylan’s eyes darted to the counter beside her where he’d almost made love to Carrie earlier that morning.  She looked up from the pan she was scrubbing to give him a half-smile he could see she didn’t feel.

“Penny
, have you seen Terri?  She wasn’t at the med shack.”

“She went shopping
with that Collins woman,” Penny replied grumpily.  She put more elbow grease behind the scouring pad she was using on the pan.  “I think that woman ruined my damned cookie sheet.”

Dylan was sure she had.  This morning it had been as black as the cookies she’d burned
, and he’d seen her scraping it with a metal spatula.  Even he knew better than to scrape a non-stick pan with a metal utensil.  Although he’d witnessed her cooking himself, that made him doubt Carrie’s cooking skills.  He’d been in such a hurry to get out of the house this morning, he hadn’t stopped to get some of those biscuits she made.  Maybe that was a good thing.  They’d have probably broken a tooth, he thought nastily.  He wasn’t feeling particularly charitable toward Ms. Collins at the moment.

“Shopping?”
Dylan repeated trying to keep the anger bubbling inside of him from his voice, so maybe Penny would give him more information. 

Typical damned inconsiderate woman. 
Scatter-brained twit.  It hadn’t even passed her mind to come out to the barn and let him know she had changed her mind.  She left him cooling his heels out there when she was the one who pinned him down on going riding with her.  On doing a lot more than riding with him.

“
I was told to clear out by the time they got back so they could use the kitchen,” Penny informed indignantly.  She notched her chin up, and snorted.  “They’ll have to eat leftovers tonight, or have Jarvis cook supper out at the bunkhouse, because I don’t have time to cook.”

She said it like it was their punishment for running
her out of her kitchen.  It would be punishment, because the food that Jarvis, their trail cook, prepared was nothing compared to the feasts Penny fixed up here every night for the guests.  Dylan loved it on the odd occasion he was invited up to eat supper with the family and guests.

Maybe if he played on that he could get even more information.  Dylan grunted, and took a seat at the breakfast bar.  “Serves ‘
em right,” he said, somehow managing to flatten out the twitch in his lips, which wanted to turn into a smile.  “So what are they doing in here that they’re running you out of your kitchen?”

“I have no idea.  All I know is they were going to the cake
supply store downtown.”

Dylan had no idea there was even a cake store in town.  “Your cakes are the best.  Why didn’t they get you to bake it?”  Her cakes were damned good.  Especially her carrot cakes.  His eyes slid down the bar to where one of those cakes sat under glass.
  His mouth watered, as he got up to walk there and lift the lid.  He inhaled the rich, buttery scent of the frosting and sighed.  “Can I have a piece of your cake?” he asked, after setting the cover on the counter.

Penny’s blue eyes flew to his and they sparked angrily.  “You can have some, but at your own risk.  That’s not my cake.   It was sitting there when I came in to find this mess.”

Dylan knew firsthand the
mess
that Penny was dealing with was nothing compared to the mess the place had been several hours ago.  Earlier, it looked like a flour bomb had gone off and caught fire, scorching everything in its path.  Well, not everything got burned, he noticed.   Beside the stove sat a pan of perfectly iced cupcakes.  On the other side were loaves of thick, perfectly browned bread.   Dylan wondered where the biscuits went.  He never did eat breakfast, he’d been too tied up.  His stomach rumbled.

“You can have whatever you want, as long as you finish it off, so I don’t have to stare at it or throw it in the trash tomorrow.  I don’t know why that woman baked as much as she did.  It’s just wasteful,” Penny griped, as she rinsed the cookie sheet.
  “And now, she’s running me out of my kitchen to bake more.”

Dylan held back a laugh. 
It looked like he wasn’t the only one feeling usurped around there.  Penny felt as threatened by Carrie Collins, as much as he did by the Aussie.  Dylan walked around the counter and put his good arm around the cook’s shoulders to give her a squeeze.  “Nobody can replace you, Penny,” he said leaning in to peck her cheek.  “You are the best damned cook in the county, and everyone knows that.  So what if she can bake.  I don’t see any delicious pot roast you can cut with a fork on this counter.”

She sniffed and her lips puckered, before she elbowed him in the ribs.  “Don’t you have something to do besides bother me?” she grumped, but he saw the small smile that eased up the corners of her lips.  “Get yourself a piece of cake and get out of here. 
Your charming ways ain’t gonna get you any pot roast tonight.  I need to hurry up and finish before they get back.”

Dylan opened up the cabinet and removed a saucer, then found a knife.  He carved a large piece of the carrot cake and flopped it onto the saucer, before he replaced the cover.  “Mind if I sit here and eat it ?  I really need to see Terri when she gets back.”  And he really needed to let Carrie Collins know he wasn’t a happy camper.  If he could do that discreetly.

“Makes me no never mind, as long as you stay out of my way,” she replied, wiping off the sheet, before noisily shoving it into the cabinet with the other pans.  “I’ve got to mop this nasty floor.”

An hour later, he’d had not only a slice of the carrot cake, he’d
eaten a ham sandwich made with the light-as-air bread Carrie Collins had baked.  He’d been wrong.  She could cook like an angel.  That carrot cake she’d made was better than Penny’s, better than any he’d ever tasted.  He wasn’t going to risk his life by telling Penny that though.  That cake had been so moist and rich, his taste buds had gone haywire.  It was all he could do to keep himself from eating another piece, hell the whole damned cake.  He’d settled for a sandwich instead, not wanting to go into a sugar coma.  It was even better.

Penny was long gone home, and he was still sitting at the counter two hours later, eyeballing the cake again when Terri walked in with her arms loaded with bags.  Carrie followed behind her into the kitchen laughing as she dragged two huge bags herself.  “I’ll get Joel to help us get the rest,” Terri said with a huffed sigh, as she put her sacks down on the
counter at the far end of the kitchen.  It looked like neither woman noticed him, so he just sat there and waited.

Carrie’s eyes finally swung around the kitchen and landed on him.  She gasped and put her hand to her chest.  “Oh, I didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, I’m easy to miss.  And forget,” he said gruffly, and he heard her whimper.  His eyes swung to the equally petite Terri Rhodes.  “I hurt my damned shoulder again trying to saddle my horse.  Can I have another pain pill, Terri?”

She frowned, and walked to the refrigerator
to open the freezer compartment.  “You need ice too,” Terri said efficiently.  She dragged out two bags of clear liquid.  “I have these alcohol ice packs.  That should help, but you need to be more careful!  You’re going to mess up all of our hard work for the last year.” She carried the bags over to him and laid them on the breakfast bar.  “Take your shirt off and I’ll fix you up.”

Dylan was afraid he’d already messed up their hard work.  And his chances of returning to the rodeo.  He unbuttoned his shirt and flinched as he slid it off of his shoulders.  Terri fumbled
in the drawers behind the bar, then sat two tan stretchy bandages beside the ice packs, before walking around to stand beside him. 

Dylan hissed as Terri laid the cold pack against his shoulder.  He felt eyes on him and looked up to find Carrie Collins staring holes through him.   He dragged his gaze back to the top of Terri’s head. 
  He had nothing to say to the squirrely woman.  Even if she did look sorry.  He’d made his point, and that was the end of it.  Terri placed the second pack on the back of his shoulder, and held both in place. 

“Grab the counter with your hand,” she instructed then reached around him
to grab a bandage.  She made one loop, then repositioned the packs, before tightening the bandage around them.  Once she secured the clip, she stepped back.  “Go out to the med shack.  Ethan’s out there.  He’ll give you pain pills and ibuprofen.  Then I want you to rest!”

Dylan’s
eyes slid back to Carrie, as he said, “Yes, ma’am.  I’m done pushing my luck.  I’m not making plans to do anything other than rest for the next few days.” 
I’m done with you
is the message he tried to send the woman holding his gaze with tears in her beautiful brown eyes.

“Good, but I want you to come back over here in the morning, so I can do this again.”

Dylan nodded and stood. “You ladies have a nice evening,” he said with a tip of his hat for Terri.  “Enjoy your baking,” he said with a pointed glare at Carrie, before walking to the door.

“And wear that damned sling!” Terri yelled
, as he walked outside, feeling Carrie’s eyes burning his back.

CHAPTER SIX

Carrie huffed out a breath and stood back to survey her strategically placed supplies.  Doing this tonight would make things go much quicker tomorrow.  Baking a seven-tier cake would take plenty of organization to get it done by Saturday morning.  Thank
God Terri offered to help her.  She’d had a few minutes of panic at the baking supply store, when it finally dawned on her exactly what she’d promised.

She was not going to fail.  Terri had given her a golden opportunity here, and she was not going to let her down.  Item by item, her eyes moved over the counter
, clicking each item off of her mental inventory of what she needed to do this job right.  When she reached the end of the breakfast bar, her chest constricted.  She put her hand to her forehead and groaned.

“What?” Terri asked with concern leaning against the counter.

“Butter.”  She had forgotten all about stopping at the supermarket on the way back home.  She couldn’t make the icing without it.

“We have butter, I think,” Terri said turning toward the refrigerator.

“I doubt you have enough to make icing for seven tiers.  I used a lot of what you had for the cupcakes and cake this morning.”  More than a lot.  She’d used it all.  Barely had enough to make the icing.  She had forgotten.  How the hell could she have forgotten?

It was Terri’s turn to groan.  “I have to get Jayden from Joel and give him a bath and dinner.  The store will
be closed by the time I finish,” she said with a huffed breath.  “I can give you the keys to the ranch truck?  Or we can go first thing in the morning?” she offered.

“I won’t sleep,” Carrie
replied with a mirthless laugh.  “And I don’t know my way around out here, especially in the dark.” 

She laid her hand on the bar stool
beside her.  Soft, well-worn material brushed her palm.  Looking down, she saw it was Dylan’s shirt.  Her fist closed around it, and her heart wiggled in her chest.  His accusing eyes had spoken volumes to her earlier.  She hadn’t missed the hidden messages in his words either.  He was upset with her for standing him up.  And he should be.  Carrie owed him an apology, and maybe this would be her chance to give it to him.  It would probably be her only chance, before she went home on Sunday.

“Maybe Dylan could take me?” she suggested looking back at Terri.  “I could bring his shirt back to him.”

“He’s doped up right now,” Terri replied with a shake of her head.

“I could drive.  He could just tell me where to go.”  Carrie knew where he’d tell her to go right about now, somewhere she’d been living for three years now.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.  He’s probably in his room at the bunkhouse.  It’s the last one down the hall—“  Terri stopped to give her a knowing smile.  “Oh yeah, you know.  You were out there this morning to get his jeans.”

Heat pushed up Carrie’s throat, and she tried to keep it from her face, but she knew she hadn’t succeeded when Terri’s smile widened.
  “Yeah, I know where it’s at,” Carrie replied.

“Good, then.  Go get your
butter
, and I’ll see you in the morning,” Terri said with a bodacious wink, before she walked out of the kitchen.

Carrie snatched the shirt from the stool, and turned toward the door.  Dylan’s unique scent wafted up to her nostrils.  She couldn’t stop herself from holding
the shirt to her face to inhale deeply, as regret washed through her.  Right now she could be a satisfied woman, if she didn’t have responsibilities.  But she’d have to be satisfied with stealing a few more moments with the man who had captured her attention to the point of making her forget those responsibilities. 

After
Sunday, she’d probably never see him again, but she didn’t want to leave here with bad feelings between them.  With determination, Carrie walked out the back door and strolled toward the bunkhouse.  She opened the door quietly in case they were already sleeping.  She figured ranch hands went to bed early.  But noise suddenly surrounded her, as she stepped inside.  She followed it to the living room and peered around the corner.  The TV flickered in the darkened room, an announcer said something about a touchdown, and then their whoops and hollers reached a deafening pitch.  Carrie flinched as she stepped into the room, trying to figure out if Dylan was one of the men on the sofa. 

A big, burly man
, who was sitting precariously on the arm of the sofa, patted the guy next to him on the back roughly.  He shook his head then stood and turned toward her.  From the tomato-sauce stained apron he wore, Carrie figured he must be a cook for the men or something.

“I’m ah, looking for Dylan,” she announced
.  The big man just stared at her, but like targets in a shooting gallery at a fair, all the other men’s heads swung in her direction at once.  Carrie shuffled her feet, feeling pretty out of place in this obviously male domain.   Maybe she would just back out of here, and go to the store alone after all.  She took one step back.  “I guess he isn’t here…”

“His lazy ass is passed out in his room,” the burly cook grumbled.

“He’s hurt, mate,” someone defended in an accented tone.  Carrie was surprised when she recognized him as the Aussie who had fought with Dylan at the bar.  It looked like they had made amends, which was a good thing.

“I’ve got to go home,” a good looking dark-haired man said as he stood.  “Rocky said she’d kick my ass if I was too late. 
It’s almost eight, and I don’t take my beautiful wife’s threats lightly.  She could do it.”  All of the men laughed, razzing him as he headed toward the door, before they turned back toward the TV.  The cook walked to the kitchen without another glance in her direction, and the dark-haired man stopped beside her. 

He stuck out his hand to her.  “I’m Ethan,
the ranch medic and Joel’s brother-in-law.  And you are?”

“Carrie Collins,” she replied taking his hand.
  “Um, a ranch guest.” That was the best description she could put to her situation at the ranch.

“Dylan is probably asleep.  I gave him enough pain meds to put down a horse,” he informed with a laugh.

“I’ll just leave his shirt in his room then, if he’s asleep,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel.  She hoped he wasn’t asleep.  She needed him to go with her to the store.  And she needed to give him the apology that sat like a lead weight on her chest.

He studied her a minute, then smiled.  “His room is right down the hall on the left.”

“I kn—thank you,” she corrected feeling her face heat.  Thank goodness it was dark in the room, and he probably couldn’t see her face.  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Ethan,” she stammered as she turned to quickly walk down the hall.

At the last door,
Carrie stopped, took a deep breath, then knocked.  She gave it a minute, then knocked again.  When there was no response, she tried the knob.  The door opened and she fell inside, right into Dylan’s bare chest.  He stumbled backward, but caught them right at the edge of the very-rumpled bed. 

“What the hell do you want?” he grumbled sleepily, setting her away from him. 

Carrie’s mouth dried up as she realized that, other than the sling on his arm, he was naked.  Moonlight shone into the room through the slits of the window blinds to light his tightly muscled body, making him look almost like a sculpture. 

“
Um, I brought your shirt back.  You left it up at the house,” she whispered, because she couldn’t find her full voice around the lump of pure lust that choked her.

“Fine, leave it on the dresser,”
Dylan said sharply, as he sat on the edge of the bed.  “Close the door on your way out.”

Carrie put the shirt on the dresser, like he asked
.  She walked back to the door and shut it too, but she was on the inside when it snapped closed.  She heard his long sigh, then heard the bed sheets rustle as he flopped over onto his side facing the wall.

Gathering her courage, Carrie
walked over to the bed to sit down.  Dylan spun back toward her and leaned up.  He flopped back to cover his eyes with his forearm.  “What the hell are you still doing here?” he ground out.

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly.

“Nothing to say.  I got your message loud and clear, sweet cheeks.  Not interested.” 

He huffed out a breath and made a move to turn over again, but Carrie put her hand on his chest.  “Dylan, wait…please listen,” she begged
.  She rushed on before he could stop her.  “I didn’t stand you up.  Terri made me an offer that could mean a new life for me.”

“Well
, have a nice life then.  Her offer must’ve been better than mine,” he replied shortly.

“Her offer involved eight-hundred dollars
that I need desperately.  And maybe a new career I never thought I could have.”

There was a long silence
.  Disappointment filled her that she was failing so miserably at her attempt to apologize.  That he was also evidently too mad to listen to anything she had to say.  Carrie tried to stand, but Dylan’s hand clamped on her forearm.  “You could’ve at least had the consideration to come out to the barn to brush me off.  I waited out there for you for two hours.”

Heat sizzled up her arm to zap her in the chest.  A little hope filled her as she slid her hand up his chest to cup h
is beard-roughened cheek.  “I know, I definitely should have done that.  It was inconsiderate of me not to do that.  But I didn’t have time.  I had to go to the cake store, before they closed.  I’m sorry.”

“What exactly was the offer?”

“I have to bake a wedding cake by Saturday.  If it turns out well, Terri is going to recommend me to others.”

“So, she offered you a job
here?” Dylan asked, his body stiffening, and his voice sounding a little odd.

“Not exactly.  I think she meant as a contractor.  I don’t know where she thinks I’m going to make those other cakes though.  My
mom’s kitchen is too small, the appliances too old, for baking like that.  Not to mention my mother’s oven isn’t big enough.” 

That was something
Carrie hadn’t thought about when Terri made the offer.  It was something she was going to have to talk to her about.  To figure out.  But one thing at a time. First, she had to bake this cake and do a good job of it.  And to do that, she needed butter. 

“
I ah, also came out here to ask you a favor…”

He grunted.  “You have some balls lady.  You stand me up, then come out here to ask me for a favor?
  Is that why you apologized?”

“
No!” she shouted, then lowered her voice.  No matter if he went to the store with her or not, she did want his forgiveness.  “I really am sorry, Dylan.  What’s it going to take to get you to forgive me?  What can I do?” 

Silence fell between them, except for his raspy, uneven breaths.  Carrie was holding hers
waiting for his answer.  After a moment, when she thought he’d gone back asleep, she made a move to take her hand off of his face.  His fingers closed around her wrist like an iron band.  His beard scraped her palm as he dragged her hand toward his mouth.  He turned his face to drop a hot kiss on her palm, and she shivered. 

Shock rocked her when h
e forced her hand downward to press it against his rock solid erection.  His heat scorched her palm through the sheet, and her fingers curled around him wanting to feel that steely hot skin, instead of the cotton sheet.  To feel that thickness inside her body.  Her mouth dried up as all the moisture in her body flooded south.

Dylan sucked in a sharp breath
, and hissed it out through his teeth.  “This is what you can do for me,” he said in a gravelly, slightly slurred voice.  “Before you leave this ranch, promise to go for that ride with me.”

Carrie was leaving Sunday afternoon.  Trace and Ronnie were bringing the kids to pick her up at five o’clock.  In her mind, she ticked off what she had to do between now and then. 
Panic tried to tighten her chest, but she fought it back.  “Sunday morning early.  I promise.”

“You better not stand me up again,” he growled, pulling her down to him. 

He shoved his hand into her hair and his delicious scent overwhelmed her senses, cocooned her in immediate pleasure, before his mouth closed hotly over hers.  He ground his mouth into hers transmitting his frustration, and then his blatant desire.  Her mouth opened, and his tongue danced with hers, sending desire pulsing through her veins like hot lava. 

Carrie fisted him
, stroked him through the sheet, let him know she was just as frustrated, wanted the same thing he did.  His knees bent to trap her hand.  With a groan, his fist closed in her hair to drag her mouth from his.  “Baby, if you’d don’t stop that, we’re not going to wait til Sunday for that ride.”

“But I wan
t—“ she started.  Carrie wanted to strip her damned clothes off and crawl into this bed with him.  Let him make love to her until neither one of them could walk.  To help her get rid of the delicious ache he’d created inside of her.

“A favor, right?
  Somehow, I don’t think that favor included me fucking you senseless, which is all I want to do right now.”