Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) (11 page)

“What should we do?” Stephen asked quickly.

Clint clutched his chest. “I need...the antidote! It’s in the superhero first-aid cooler!”

“I’ll get it!” Beginning to see where this might be going, Rose raced back inside. She returned and set it down on the grass beside the still writhing and moaning Clint.

“Open it,” he rasped.

Rose did as directed. She and the kids looked inside.

Clint gasped. “I need...the green beans! Quick! Give me three of them...before I—!”

Rose opened the container. “Better do as he says,” she told the triplets soberly.

“Help me sit up,” Clint grunted when they had three in hand.

Rose knelt behind him and pretended to push his broad shoulders upright. Which was easier imagined than done, given how big and solidly muscled he was. Still hamming it up, Clint held out his hand. The kids solemnly put the veggies in his palm.

“Here...goes...” He ate one. Then another. Then a third. Slowly he began to look and act normal.

Finally he said, “I think I’m all better. Yep, the veggies worked to fight off the kryptonite.” A big smile spread across his face. “I’m only glad that no one else...” He turned to look at Rose. Getting the gist of what he wanted her to do, she too collapsed dramatically on the grass beside Clint. “Is it the kryptonite?” he gasped, leaning over her.

Feebly, Rose nodded.

“Kids!” Clint shouted. “You know what to do!”

And so it went. Rose ate her green beans—and survived. Then Scarlet fell ill. She too had to eat three green beans. As did the similarly suffering Stephen and Sophia.

Finally all had triumphed over the deadly substance.

“So what do you think?” Clint asked Rose hours later, after dinner had been eaten and the kids were tucked in for the night. “Did I win our bet?”

Unable to recall a time when she and her kids had enjoyed more fun, Rose grinned over at him. “You sure did.”

He strolled closer, the desire she felt deep inside reflected in his eyes. “We could try orange kryptonite and sweet potato fries the next time they want to play Superheroes.”

She’d been hoping he would be game for another round. “Good idea, but...I think you might have to be here for that to be a success.”

“That can be arranged.” He hooked an arm about her waist and threaded a hand through her hair. Then he kissed her tenderly. “As winner of the bet, I hereby claim our first official date should be this weekend.”

“Well, fair is fair, I suppose.” Gazing indulgently up at him, she laid her hands on his chest. “The kids are having a sleepover with some of their cousins at my parents’ house on Saturday night...”

“Then how about I pick you up here at seven?”

“Sure. Where are we going?”

His smile widened. “Somewhere...surprising.”

Chapter Ten

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rose stared at the two horses, saddled and ready, standing patiently in front of her house. As promised, Clint had surprised her for their Saturday evening date.

He lifted his Stetson and resettled it on his head. “You don’t like to ride?” Sexy crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.

She had spent a long time getting ready herself but was unprepared for how good he looked. The cut of his tan Western sport coat and jeans played up his masculine physique, while the bright white of his shirt contrasted nicely with his sun-bronzed skin and the chestnut strands of his freshly cropped hair. He’d also shaved closely and smelled of leather-and-spice cologne.

“Actually, I love to ride. I just haven’t been on a horse in a while. And I’m not sure I’m dressed for it.” Rose gestured to the flowered dress and cardigan she had on. “Except, of course, for the boots.” She’d pulled on her favorite burgundy cowgirl boots.

He adjusted the brim of his Stetson and smiled down at her. “Silver won’t mind if you go as-is.”

Nor, apparently, would her date.

Rose thought about changing into jeans, too. She decided against it, given the wardrobe crisis she’d already had, trying to decide what to wear tonight. Her floral sundress with the fitted bodice and full knee-length skirt was long enough to afford her modesty, even in the saddle. The problem would be protecting her bare inner thighs from rubbing against the saddle as she rode.

“Just give me a minute.”

She raced back up the stairs. She plucked a pair of rose-colored yoga shorts from her bureau, kicked off her cowgirl boots and shimmied her way into the form-fitting knit.

Satisfied the hem of her dress fell a good four inches beneath the hem of her yoga shorts, she tugged her boots on and raced back down the stairs.

Clint surveyed her head to toe, his gaze lingering on the low neckline of her dress before returning to her eyes. He slid his arm beneath her elbow. “I was hoping you wouldn’t change the dress for jeans.”

A comment which just confirmed he liked his women feminine. Just as she liked her men big, strong and tall.

She batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. “Don’t like the way I look in denim?”

He shrugged and watched her move through the downstairs, checking door locks and turning on lights, so it wouldn’t be pitch black when they returned. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She turned sideways. The skirt of her dress brushed him as she passed.

He smiled down at her and fell in step beside her as they walked back to the foyer. “I just like the way you look in this dress.” Once again, his hand was on her, this time pressed to the middle of her spine.

She flushed, heating at his light touch, and they hadn’t really started their date yet. “Which is what...?”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “All soft and womanly.”

Rose sucked in a breath. “I probably should tell you that lines like that don’t work on me.”

“What about this, then?” He used his leverage on her elbow to turn her toward him, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. He drew back just far enough to peer into her eyes. “Does this work?”

More than you know
.

Trying not to think how good it felt to be going out with him—even if it was only the payoff to a fun wager—Rose smiled. “Well, cowboy, if we don’t get a move on, it’ll be dark before we ever get wherever it is we’re going.” Rose plucked her cowgirl hat from the hat rack next to the door, plopped it on her head, then donned her purse and lacy cardigan sweater as he led the way outside. “Where are we headed?” she asked, locking the door behind her and reveling in the warmth of the late spring evening.

“Another surprise.” He slipped his hands around her waist to give her a chivalrous boost up she didn’t really need but appreciated just the same. With him still supporting her, she grasped the saddle horn and swung her leg over Silver’s back. She settled in the saddle, then tugged the edges of her skirt downward, tucking it modestly around her thighs.

He climbed onto his stallion, and they set off at a leisurely pace, cutting across her property and her neighbors’. Once they were in open terrain, they let their horses pick up the speed. For a while, there was no need for conversation. It was enough just to canter across wildflower-strewn meadows and take in the experience. Eventually they reached one of the two meandering streams on Clint’s property. They dismounted and led their horses to the water. Clint had plastic bottles of lemonade in his saddlebag for them.

He offered her a silent toast. Together they drank deeply. Aware she hadn’t felt this free or been this relaxed in a long time, Rose leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree. The sun was a golden ball dipping slowly through the pink-streaked sky toward the horizon.

“So this is your idea of the perfect date,” she teased.

He came closer. “The Double Creek is one of my favorite places in the world.”

Rose could see why. The thousand-acre ranch might be small by some standards, but it was both gorgeous and rugged, with wide-open spaces and moderately rolling terrain. In the distance, they could see the neatly plowed rows that now delineated the acres of blackberry bushes. It was as beautiful and scenic as a Napa Valley vineyard.

She pointed the rim of her bottle toward the fields. “You know, it might be a good idea to film that from here. For the commercial. Up close, you can’t really tell how far the crop stretches. The view would be a good sales tool for the berry picker...”

“Let’s not talk business tonight,” he said in a gently chiding tone.

Heart skittering in her chest, she turned back to face him, wishing he didn’t look so damn good. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

He made the face her kids did when confronted with just the thought of ever eating brussels sprouts again, then flashed her a crooked smile. “Anything—everything—else.”

She laughed, and he leaned in closer and kissed her. Emotion bubbled up inside her, relentless and undeniable.

Aware her pulse was racing as if he had just made love to her, Rose splayed a hand across his hard chest.

He drew back, his gaze tender. “Hungry?”

For you
. Rose nodded, another ribbon of desire curling through her. “I am.”

His big hand captured hers, and he pressed a kiss to the back of it. Her insides fluttered.

“Me, too.” He grinned, charismatic as ever, then continued huskily, “So what do you say we go on back to my place?”

* * *

I
T
WAS
DARK
when they reached the stables. Rose helped Clint unsaddle and care for their horses. Once their mounts were given food and water and settled in for the night, the two of them headed up to the Double Creek ranch house.

The aroma of rich and savory beef hit them the moment they walked in the door.

Was this how it felt to have someone take care of you? she wondered. How he felt when he came to her place for dinner?

He smiled at her reaction. Plucked the Western hat off her head, then the Stetson from his, and set both on the hall table along with her purse. Hand beneath her elbow, he steered her toward the kitchen. The breakfast room table had been set—beautifully. A bottle of wine, a loaf of bread and a slow-cooker full of the richest, meatiest-looking beef stew she had ever seen sat on the counter. Rose calculated the effort. “You really went all out,” she murmured, impressed.

He tossed her a fond look, then went to wash his hands. “If you only get one date with a lady—” he winked “—you’ve got to make it count.”

Already tingling with anticipation, she joined him at the kitchen sink, taking in the heat and strength and sheer masculinity of him. How was it he always smelled so good? Like fresh air and sunshine. And man. How was it he always made her want him so much?

Deciding it didn’t matter as long as they had a reason to keep seeing each other again, she turned to face him, her hip bumping his in the process. “We could always make another bet.” In the one-day-at-a-time vein...

He quirked a brow and countered with comically exaggerated seriousness, “But then I’d have to let you
win
.”

She let out a low laugh, loving it when he teased her this way. Like he wanted to capture her heart, as much as she secretly wanted to capture his. “Why?”

Dark eyes twinkling, he lifted his hand to her face and let his thumb rasp gently over her cheekbone to her lower lip. “Because it wouldn’t be
fair
, taking advantage of you
two
times in a row.”

Already aching for another kiss, she demanded, “Who says I couldn’t win on my own?”

“All right.” He led her toward the table, held out her chair and waited until she slipped into it. “What do you want to wager?”

Rose watched him put dinner on the table. A serving bowl full of the rich and meaty stew. The bread and butter. A baby lettuce salad, redolent with fresh blackberries, sliced pears and pecans.

“Something about work this time,” she suggested, thinking that had to be safer, emotionally, than this. An evening that was beginning to feel all too romantic—and real.

Handing her a bottle of what appeared to be homemade vinaigrette, he groaned in dismay.

“Hey, I haven’t said what the payoff is yet!”

He slipped his sport coat over the back of the chair and rolled up his sleeves to just below the elbow. “I’d still prefer it to be about our personal life.”

She knew that. She also knew what he could accomplish when he was really and truly motivated.

And given how much he seemed to loathe anything connected with the berry picker, the advertising team, or harvesting...

Wheels turning, she let her gaze roam over his pristine white Western shirt and form-fitting dark denim jeans before lingering on his broad shoulders. His clothes were nice, if unremarkable. But there was nothing ordinary about the body beneath them. He was solid muscle from head to toe. Taut and big and capable in that unutterably masculine way.

Yet capable of great gentleness and tenderness, too.

But it was his brown eyes with the darker rim around the edges that drew her in the most. Made her want to make his life easier, too.

He’d been hurt. Just as she had.

He was wary of making another mistake of the heart, too.

“The sooner the endorsement work gets done,” she said, “the quicker you get back to what you really want to be doing—ranching.”

Visibly relaxing at the thought of that, he sat down opposite her and handed her a glass of wine. “Good point. All right...you sold me. What’s the wager?”

“I bet we can wrap up the filming of the endorsement commercial for the berry picker in just one more week.” If they hustled, she knew they could do it, no matter how ridiculous the demands of the Farmtech marketing execs.

“One week?” Abruptly, Clint looked as impatient as she felt. Their eyes met and held for another breath-stealing moment. “I’d like it to be one more day,” he lamented with a sigh.

“That’s not going to happen, given how slow the advertising team works.” Despite how much she wanted to triumph, she couldn’t make a sucker bet with him.

He broke the bakery-fresh bread with his hands and heaped stew on both their plates. His usual good humor returned. “All right, then,” he conceded, “I’ll wager three days.”

“That would mean that to win, you would have to cooperate a whole heck of a lot more than you have been thus far,” Rose warned.

He shrugged.

“You can’t delay or drag things out, either.”

“I won’t.” He leaned toward her, his knees bumping hers beneath the table. “So, if you win...?”

Rose shrugged, ignoring the comforting warmth of his body so close to hers. She did not pull away. Neither, to her delight, did he. “We have a date of my choosing.”

Chuckling, he let his gaze rove slowly over her body before returning to her eyes. “Trying to tempt me into deliberately losing our bet?”

Was he that eager to spend time with her? Rose beamed happily at the notion. “No.” Tingling everywhere his eyes had touched and everywhere they hadn’t, she feigned a serious winner-take-all attitude. “I just want a chance to do things all my way.”

The corners of his lips twitched with mirth. “Ah...”

“And if you win?” she asked, shifting back slightly so they were no longer in contact with each other. She was trying very hard to keep this meal on track, lest they end up upstairs in his bed.

“If I triumph,” he declared, sliding a hand beneath his roughhewn jaw, matching her solemn tone to the letter, “then I want a dinner with you—and your kids. Done my way.”

The shock of his request stole her breath. “Really?” She blinked. “You’d want that?”

Slowly Clint nodded. “The night we all played Superheroes together?” he prodded in a rusty-sounding voice.

She nodded.

“That was one of the best nights of my life.”

And best of all, Rose noted happily, he meant it.

* * *

C
LINT
WAS
PLEASED
to see that Rose was in no hurry to go home, even after dinner was over, dishes done. Instead, she asked for a tour of the barn and the stables—both of which were going to have to be torn down and rebuilt from the ground up—and the first floor of the ranch house, which along with the rest of the sprawling two-story domicile had been completely redone by the previous owner.

“It must have been nice,” she remarked as they walked into his newly modernized private study, “to move into a place that was furnished right down to the dishes and linens.”

“I didn’t mind paying extra for all that.” He caught her hand in his. “Others might have balked.”

Seemingly content to have her fingers laced with his, she moved over to the long ledge beneath the windows. “What’s this?” She pointed to the aerial photographs, new barn and stable blueprints, and survey maps laid out along the two-foot-wide shelf.

Clint did not want to discuss anything that might upset her. Especially given how well the evening had gone so far. Nor did he want to hide what was going to be his future. “Those are the plans for the reconfiguration of the ranch,” he told her reluctantly.