My Dearest Cal (8 page)

Chaney’s eyes went wide as half-dollars, and he gobbled down the rest of his meal as if he had to get to a fire. Cal and Marilou both burst into laughter as he muttered his excuses and scrambled away from the table, leaving them to their coconut cake and coffee.

Cal tilted his chair back and watched Marilou grow increasingly nervous. She fussed with her napkin and
avoided his gaze as if she’d just realized the new intimacy of their relationship.

“Settle down, girl,” he said gently. “I’m not out to ravish you.” Yet, he amended silently. He’d never taken a skittish woman yet, and the past few months on the farm had taught him a lot about patience and calming nerves. Unfortunately it had also been a time of celibacy, and a woman as pretty as Marilou could make a man in that condition a little crazy.

“Maybe that’s what’s bothering me,” she said, clearly emboldened by his disclaimer.

His whole body tensed at the unexpected taunt. That flash of daring in her nature was far more dangerous than she realized. “Careful, Marilou. I could change my mind real easy.”

She smiled knowingly. “I’m not worried.”

“You ought to be, sweetheart. I’m no saint.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said breezily. “But I also know you’re not about to take a chance on involvement, not with a woman who’s already underfoot.”

“Meaning?”

“That your type of woman probably has one foot on a plane before you dare to kiss her.”

The tart observation was so close to the mark, it astounded him. It also worried him a little that she could read him so well, while he couldn’t figure her out a bit. She was like a diamond, showing off new facets depending on which way it faced the light. That made her a challenge, and he knew himself well enough to recognize that made her the most dangerous woman he’d met in a long time. Still, instead of
keeping his distance, he asked, “What about you? What’s kept you single all this time?”

“I’m only twenty-five.”

“I’m still surprised some man hasn’t snapped you up.”

“I’m not running, if that’s what you mean. I suppose, if anything, I’ve just been waiting for the right man to come along.”

“What would he be like?”

“Intelligent, adventurous, maybe even a little wild,” she said with a grin that reminded him of a teenager sharing secret confidences. “Know anyone who fits those qualifications?”

“What does a woman who bakes corn bread and coconut cake want with a man who’s wild?”

“You know what they say, opposites attract.”

“Maybe so, but do they last?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. I haven’t met a man like that yet, much less tried to make the relationship work.”

“You could always practice with me,” he offered.

He watched as she swallowed hard, then worked to hide her sudden nervousness. “I’m not so sure you’re as wild and daring as you’d like me to believe. In fact, I think you might be surprised at just how domesticated you could become if you gave yourself half a chance.”

He found himself grinning. “So, based on your analysis, we’re not opposites at all?”

“Not deep down.”

“Then, according to the theory, there should be no attraction.”

“That’s right,” she said with that devilish gleam reappearing in her eyes.

That glint, like moonlight on emeralds, was yet another challenge he couldn’t refuse. He reached out, hooked his hand around a rung of the ladder-back chair and dragged her to him. Before she could recover from the sudden movement, his lips were on hers, catching her soft gasp of surprise. His fingers curved around her bare shoulders, savoring the smooth texture that was like silk against the sandpaper roughness of his calluses. Her hands were pressed against his chest. After one startled push, a faint flutter of protest, they gentled against him. Her tongue, shy and hesitant, touched his lips, then retreated, as if she were afraid to dare more. It was the touch of an angel with the impact of Satan.

No more experienced kiss had ever awakened such wonder, such desperate wanting in him. No sweet touch of innocence had ever stirred such terror. With an anguished moan, he tore himself away and stood up. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, fearing what he’d see. If there were tears of dismay in her eyes, if he’d frightened her, he’d never forgive himself.

“Go on up to bed,” he said gruffly.

“The dishes…”

“Leave ’em. It won’t be the first time they sat here overnight.”

“You’re paying me to do them,” she insisted,
stacking them by the sink and avoiding his gaze. “And I have no intention of spending an extra hour in the morning scrubbing off dried food.”

“I’ll put them in the damned dishwasher. Now go on, before I do something we’ll both regret.”

She sighed then and walked slowly to the door. Only when her back was to him did he risk really looking at her. Her spine was straight and proud. There was no way he could tell how deeply he’d hurt her, until she turned and looked back. To his surprise, there was no condemnation in her eyes, only something that looked faintly like sorrow.

“I think maybe you already have,” she told him softly. Then she was gone, leaving the scent of roses trailing behind her and a heavy ache in his heart.

For a man who’d lived his whole life without regrets, Cal realized he’d just filled a whole day with a passel of them.

* * *

Cal’s kiss had had more force than a tornado sweeping through Georgia. It took three days for Marilou to feel comfortable looking him in the eye again, though she did so with determined regularity. She refused to let him see that he’d shaken her. It was small comfort that he didn’t seem to be much easier around her. When he could, he avoided her and left it to Chaney to tell her what time to have meals on the table, where to go for supplies and to write out the checks for household needs.

Marilou was a patient woman, but she was beginning to worry that she was wasting precious time. By
now Cal’s grandmother could be much worse, and Marilou hadn’t even succeeded in getting him to look at the letter. She’d planned on mentioning it at dinner the night before, but he hadn’t come in. Chaney had offered no explanations. He’d just silently eaten his own meal, thanked her in his gruff manner and gone out, leaving Marilou alone with her thoughts and a whole lot of confusing emotions.

It seemed to her that she had two choices. She could wait Cal out, hoping that sooner or later he’d get past this stubbornness on his own. Or she could push him and risk having him toss her and the letter all the way back to Georgia. She finally opted for waiting, at least for a few more days. And since this was supposed to be an adventure, she decided she might as well make the most of it. That night at dinner she asked Chaney if he thought Cal would mind if she did some work in the garden.

“It’s a disgrace,” she said. “You should see the way the weeds have taken over. You’d have plenty of fresh vegetables if somebody just put in a little effort. I saw some tomatoes and some zucchini. Possibly some green beans. What do you think?”

“Ain’t up to me.”

“Well, the ground’s wasted the way it is. I think I’ll just go ahead.”

The next day she picked up a half dozen tomato plants, along with seedlings for several other vegetables. She spent an extra half hour getting directions on exactly how to prepare the ground and plant them. She could hardly wait to get started.

As soon as she’d put away the groceries, she put on a pair of shorts and a halter top, then went to the barn for a shovel, a rake and a hoe. Zeke, Roddy and Chaney took one hard look at her and simply stared until she flushed with embarrassment.

“I’ll get what you need,” Cal growled as he returned to the barn leading Devil’s Magic. He handed the horse over to Chaney and shot a stern glance that had Zeke and Roddy scurrying back to work. “If you’re going to parade around down here, put some damned clothes on.”

She looked down at the shorts and knit top. “For heaven’s sakes, people wear less than this at the beach.”

“If you were at the beach, you’d fit right in. Around here the only females wearing fewer clothes are the fillies and, believe me, they’re not much competition.”

She supposed he had a point, though she doubted any of the men in that barn were likely to be stirred to passion by one look at her in this outfit. “Sorry,” she apologized anyway. “I didn’t think.”

His eyes met hers. She noticed he was careful to keep his glance from dropping below her chin. “Next time you will,” he said, handing her the gardening equipment. “Don’t stay out in that sun too long. It’s overcast today. It’ll fool you.”

She nodded as he vanished. While she worked in the garden she was aware that Cal paused to stare at her every time he returned to the barn, but he never waved or acknowledged her presence in any way. In
fact, for all the attention he paid to her, she might have been invisible.

It took her two days to get the garden into shape. The work was far harder than she’d anticipated, but when she was done, when the ground had been turned and watered and the plants were in nice, even rows, she felt a rare sense of accomplishment. There had been something soothing about the task. When it was over, though, she immediately began looking around for something new to try. The Thoroughbreds were the obvious choice.

The next morning, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes, she presented herself to Chaney. “I want to learn about horses,” she announced.

He shoved his hat back on his head and regarded her skeptically. “There’s books in the house.”

“The horses are here. I figure I’ll learn a lot more by doing than I will by reading, don’t you?”

“You know anything at all?”

“Nope.”

At his disgusted expression, she added, “Just think of me as fresh clay. You get to mold me. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I ain’t so sure the boss is gonna like this. He hired you to keep house.”

“You have any complaints about the food?”

“No.”

“When you do, I’ll give this up. Come on, Chaney. I really want to learn, and Cal says you’re the best.”

She could practically see his chest swell with pride. “He’s got a point.” He stared thoughtfully across the
paddock, watching the way Lady Mary was bobbing her head when she caught sight of them. The horse’s ears pricked up and she trotted across to them, nuzzling against Chaney’s jacket, apparently looking for the sugar cubes Marilou suspected he hid there for all the horses.

Finally, after he’d given Lady Mary the sugar, he turned back to Marilou. “I suppose if you’ve got your head set on this, you might’s well learn things right. I’ll start you out at the bottom, though. No favoritism.”

“Absolutely. So, what should I do?”

“You can start by mucking out stalls.”

“What’s that?”

“It ain’t anything like baking pies, I can tell you that,” he said with a gleeful expression. “Roddy, come on over here and meet Marilou. She wants to learn about horses.”

Roddy, who looked to be no more than eighteen or nineteen, gazed at her shyly. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, then held one out to her. “Morning, ma’am,” he said in a whisper as she shook his callused hand.

“You let her help you this morning, son. I don’t mean watchin’, either. Put her to work.”

Roddy’s cheeks burned and his eyes widened in dismay. “But, Chaney, that ain’t no work for a lady.”

“No,” Marilou said quickly, judging from his reaction that Chaney truly was starting her at the bottom. “It’s okay, Roddy. You just show me. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

He still looked uncertain, but apparently sensed her determination. He nodded at last. “Okay, ma’am. If you say so.”

Although she’d begun to figure out just what she’d gotten herself into even before they reached the stable, she was not fully prepared for the overpowering scents that greeted her as Roddy led her into the first stall to be mucked out. He showed her how to rake out the filthy straw and replace it with clean, while the horses were either in the paddock or being worked on the track. Though in many ways the barn was a lot cleaner than she would have imagined, there was no way to keep it spotless. The work was hot, smelly and tiring. The worst of it was that she didn’t seem to be learning anything about horses. They weren’t even around. She knew better than to complain, though. If Chaney was testing her mettle, she was determined to pass.

By the time he came in to check her work, she had blisters on her hands, straw in her hair and dirt and dust from head to toe.

“She did great,” Roddy told the manager. He pointed out the stalls she’d done entirely on her own, and Marilou found herself holding her breath as Chaney inspected them.

“Not bad,” he finally said grudgingly.

Marilou felt as if she’d been given a letter of commendation. “Thanks. What about tomorrow?”

He actually came close to smiling at that. “You ain’t scared off yet?”

She grinned back at him. “Not a chance.”

“Then I’ll think on it tonight and we’ll figure out a plan.”

“Thanks, Chaney.”

If nothing else, the hard work had kept her from thinking too hard about Cal. He’d barely crossed her mind all morning. But once she was back at the house, she began to wonder just what he was going to think when he found out what she’d done. Chaney had been right about one thing: Cal was paying her to keep house, not to muck out stalls or even to plant a kitchen garden, for that matter.

She didn’t have long to wait. Cal stormed into the kitchen with a scowl she could read from across the room. She immediately turned back to the sink. He came up behind her and reached for one of the blistered hands she was holding under the cool tap water.

At the sight of the raw, broken skin, he muttered an oath. “Sit. Let me get some ointment.”

“They’ll be fine,” she said without moving.

“Not if they get infected,” he countered as he reached into a cupboard for a jar of cream. He nudged her toward a chair, then took her hands and soothed on the cool, white ointment. His touch was gentle, but the expression in his eyes was fierce, and Marilou knew he was only holding his anger in check temporarily. The instant he’d treated both hands, those cool gray eyes met hers and there was no doubt about the storm brewing.