Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1) (10 page)
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Authors: Martha Shields
Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Fiction, #Forever Love, #Adult, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Sensual, #Hearts Desire, #Harlequin Treasury, #Series, #Cowboys, #Rescue, #Family Life, #Western, #Rancher, #Rodeo, #Teenage Sister, #Caretaker, #Household, #Manage, #Persuade, #Reconcile, #Relationships, #Marriage Minded, #General Romance, #Silhouette, #1990's
BOOK: Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1)
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“There are worse things than growing up in an orphanage. And didn’t you just say you don’t want my pity?”
“I just—Oh, never mind. Why don’t you go in? You don’t need me.”
He reached for her arm. “Yes, I do. We’re getting you a decent pair of riding boots.”
“Now wait just a minute. I’ve seen catalogs around the house. Boots are over a hundred dollars, and those are the cheap ones. I can’t afford—”
“You don’t have to. I’m buying.”
“What? Oh, no, you aren’t. You’ve already advanced me enough to pay for my car. I’ll be so far in the hole I’ll never be able to leave.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or is that your plan? You thinking of bringing back indentured servitude?”
Hank felt his jaw tighten at her accusation. “This isn’t an advance.”
She crossed her arms over her stomach. “I told you, I don’t take charity.”
He cursed under his breath. Now that she’d told him about the orphanage, he knew why. And he didn’t blame her. But she needed these boots, and he was dead set on buying them for her. “This isn’t charity. You’ve earned them by doing more than your share of work around the house. Even if you hadn’t, you’ll pay me back when you feed me and my men on the trail drive. But you can’t feed us unless you learn to ride. And you can’t learn to ride with those crummy little shoes you wore the other day.”
Her chin rose a notch. “I did okay. You said so yourself.”
“Yes, but you were on the gentlest mount at the Garden. What will you do when you’ve got a horse that won’t go faster than a rough trot? You’ve got to be able to put some pressure on it, and you can’t do that with those shoes.”
“Then I’ll ride Maisy all the time.”
He shook his head. “Maisy’s going on twenty. She’s too old for hard work. I started you out on her because she’s gentle, but if you do any real riding, you’re going to have to use one of the other horses.”
She continued staring at him belligerently. Though she didn’t offer any more arguments, he could see the wheels working in her head.
Before she could voice them, he said, “I’m looking at it like another piece of tack I have to buy. It’s equipment I need to run my ranch.”
“You don’t buy boots for any of the hands,” she pointed out.
He shook his head. “That’s not true. I’ve bought boots for a few down-and-out cowboys over the past eight years, and I know my father did.”
Her eyes narrowed at being lumped in with all the other charity cases. Before she could draw breath to blast his statement, he hurried on. “You wouldn’t expect to buy your own saddle, would you?”
That took her by surprise. “No.”
“Then what’s the difference?”
Her face said she saw a lot of difference. “It just seems like a frivolous expense since I’ll only be using them for one trail drive.”
He lifted a brow at still another reminder that she was leaving, but he wasn’t about to give in. “Aren’t you the one who offered to bring lunch to us when you learn to ride?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you’ll use them for more than one trail drive, won’t you?”
Alex rolled her eyes, signaling her surrender. She swung her feet around and slid to the ground. “All right, all right. But nothing fancy.”
“Nothing cheap, either.” He closed the door to the truck. “I don’t buy equipment often, but when I do, I buy quality.”
She placed a hand on the horseshoe that served as the door handle for the store. “Then you pick them out. I don’t know anything about boots.”
He put his hand over hers and pulled the door open. Realizing he’d be holding her leg as he pushed on the boots, he grinned as she ducked into the store. “Darlin’, that’ll be my pleasure.”
Alex wriggled her toes in her new boots as she waited by the café door for Hank to pay the check for lunch. He’d insisted she wear them today “to break them in.” She couldn’t remember owning any shoes like them. At first she found it hard to walk. The stiff brown leather came halfway up her shins, and the sole was reinforced with a steel shank so it didn’t bend. That combined with the two inch heel made her feel like she was slapping the floor with every step.
But she had to admit they were sturdier than any other shoe she’d ever owned. She could probably kick the tar out of anything... including nosy bosses.
That thought made her look at Hank, who waited patiently for his change. She didn’t know what to think about all the attention he’d been lavishing on her.
On the one hand, there were times when he looked at her like he wanted to rip off her clothes and devour her raw. She shivered as she remembered one particular look just that morning. She’d stood up to walk a few steps in the fourth pair of boots. She’d have been happy with the first pair—he was the one who insisted she try on several different styles. She’d studied herself from several angles in the boot-high mirror, then turned to find his eyes on her, hot enough to melt stone. She’d stood mesmerized, until he finally looked away.
But on the other hand, there was no real evidence Hank had any sexual interest in her. Just those looks making the air between them sizzle like a pan of fajitas. He didn’t make passes, didn’t try to kiss her. He treated her like he treated everyone else—and he was driving her crazy.
Hank unwittingly proved that by holding the door to the café open for her, then for a group of five women who were on their way in. He placed his hand on the small of her back as he walked her to the truck, but she’d seen him do the same with Claire.
As Alex climbed into the cab of the truck, she felt so frustrated by the unacknowledged tension that she wanted to scream, “Look if you want to sleep with me, let me know so I can leave now.”
But she didn’t say anything. Not only did she owe him for fixing her car, but if she were wrong, she’d feel like an idiot. So she just waited to see what his next move would be.
He drove straight to a supermarket three times as big as the one in Dubois and pulled up to the front door. “I need to check on a couple of things at the courthouse. Will you be okay for about an hour?”
“Sure. I’ve got a list a mile long.”
“Add some gingersnaps to it.”
“You like gingersnaps?”
“Yep.” He leaned across to open the door for her. “Haven’t had any in a while. Get me some, will you?”
“No.” Alex hopped from the truck and turned to see his frown. “I’ll buy ginger and make you some gingersnaps, but I won’t buy stale cookies that cost three times as much.”
There was that look again. Blue lasers.
Her body reacted the same way it always did—invisible shivers rippling across her skin. She grabbed the door to close it. “Anything else?”
He shook his head. “I’ll catch up with you in an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll save the frozen stuff for last, since you’ll have the ice chests. Do I need to ask about getting the dry ice now, or when we pay?”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “They know me here.”
“Okay.” Alex closed the door of the truck, then stepped back as he pulled away. It struck her that they interacted like a married couple.
She shook her head as she turned into the market. Married? Where had that notion come from? She was not in the market for a husband, lover or friend. She wanted to finish out her month, then head for San Francisco. Period. End of discussion. She was not listening to anything else her libido had to say on the subject.
Alex stood back as Hank and a young grocery clerk named Mike loaded the supplies into the bed of the truck. The more fragile supplies were packed in boxes, the sturdier ones in sacks, the frozen ones bedded down in the ice chests with dry ice. They’d spent an enormous amount of money, but Alex knew these supplies would feed six people for at least two months—if the right person was preparing it. She felt a twinge of guilt when she realized that person wouldn’t be her, then rationalized that she would leave a well-stocked pantry for the next cook.
So the amount of money they’d spent didn’t really bother her. The reason her mouth had gone dry was knowing what Hank expected of her on the way home. She’d been dreading it all day.
She chided herself for being so reluctant to share her past. But she couldn’t forget the looks on co-workers’ faces who treated her like everybody else before they knew she’d been an orphan. The change wasn’t radical after they found out. They didn’t treat her like a leper or anything. But she’d catch looks of pity on their faces when they caught themselves discussing all the family they were having over for Thanksgiving dinner or Easter or Christmas. They would invite her, and she would refuse, then they’d look at her with even more pity. Or relief, which was worse.
Little Orphan Alex. No one had actually called her that, but the name was too close not to make the comparison. She hated being different, hated being the one who never quite fit in anywhere, who never belonged.
“That’s it,” Hank announced after he tested the security of the tarp he’d tied on top of the groceries. He handed the clerk a tip, then turned to her. “You ready to head back?”
Alex nodded mutely and stepped toward the door. As usual, Hank made it there before she did and swung it open.
She expected him to light into her right away, but he hadn’t said anything by the time they’d made it to the outskirts of Riverton, and she began to relax. Maybe he’d forgotten.
She should’ve known better.
As soon as he cleared the last subdivision, Hank pushed the truck into fourth gear to stay. He relaxed and stretched his arm across the back of the seat. “Now, where were we?”
Acutely aware of his every move, she knew his fingers were only inches from the back of her neck. Could she really feel their heat, or was it just her imagination? She stiffened away from his hand. “I was hoping you’d forget.”
“Not likely. I just wanted to get through the traffic.”
Her jaw set, Alex stared out the windshield as she said, “There really isn’t that much to it. I was born in LaNett, Alabama. My mother died when I was eight years old, and because I had no other family I was taken in by the sisters at Saint Mary’s Orphanage. When I was eighteen, I was supposed to leave, but the orphanage gave me a job cooking. It shut down the next year, so I had to leave. There. Not exactly what bestsellers are made of, but it’s my life story.”
Finished, Alex glanced at him, watching carefully for any sign of disgust or pity. The frown he gave her held neither, only mild frustration.
“Most people’s lives wouldn’t make a bestseller,” he said. “But you left out a lot of details.”
“Like what?”
“Like what happened to your father?’
Alex frowned back at him. He would want to know all the gory details. Well, he knew the worst. Why not? “My father died in Vietnam when I was a baby. We never saw each other, except through pictures.”
“He was in the army?”
“Yes. He was one of those unglamorous ‘grunts’ they show in movies. He stepped on a land mine during some mission. I don’t think my mother ever really knew where exactly. All she got back were his dog tags. I still have them.”
Alex felt his arm shift along the back of the seat, but he didn’t remove it. She found that strangely comforting.
“How did your mother die?” he asked quietly.
“She never was strong, not like your mother. To feed us, she worked in a textile mill in LaNett. They had a union there and she made pretty good money until she got sick. First it was just a cold, but she kept going to work until it changed to bronchitis. She couldn’t get rid of it. She ran out of sick days at the factory and went back to work sick.” Sadness Alex hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years welled up. “It finally turned into pneumonia. That’s what killed her.”
“Didn’t she go to the doctor?” Hank asked.
Alex nodded. “She just didn’t have enough time to rest, to get over it. The whole process lasted about six months. By the time he put her in the hospital in Dothan she was too weak. She lingered there for a couple of weeks before she died.”
“Then you were placed in Saint Mary’s.”
“Yes.”
“Was it horrible?”
“We didn’t have to eat gruel, if that’s what you mean. No, it wasn’t horrible. It’s just that there were over fifty girls vying for the attention of three nuns and six day workers. I... I missed having the sole attention of a parent. Perhaps if I’d been younger when I went there, I might have fitted in better. I wouldn’t have remembered how it felt to have someone who tucks you in at night and reads you a story. Not just any story, but the story you choose.” Like that book about a house that went from being a farmhouse to one surrounded by city noise. She couldn’t even remember the title, only that her mother read it to her as often as she asked. Alex swiped at a tear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on and on. And I certainly didn’t mean to cry.”
“Hey, I forced you to talk, remember? And you can cry all you want. In fact, I’ve got a shoulder that’s not being used at the moment if you want to slide on over.”
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