Quinn (8 page)

Cheyenne stifled a yawn. “If I don’t head up to bed
soon, I’ll never make it.” She pointed to the stairs. “Follow me and I’ll show you where you can bunk.”

Quinn crossed to the room off the kitchen and picked up his gear before following Cheyenne to the foot of the stairs.

Once there he turned. “Thanks for the grub, Micah. It was a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome, wolf whisperer.” The old man spoke around the stem of his pipe. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Quinn followed Cheyenne up the stairs and tried not to stare at her trim backside.

She paused and shoved open a door. Inside was a big, sturdy bed and on the far side of the room a desk and chair.

When she turned, he was standing so close, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Startled, her gaze darted up into that sun-bronzed face before settling on his mouth.

A mistake, she realized. Just looking at him had her throat going dry.

To fill the uncomfortable silence she said, “This used to be my brother’s. I think you’ll be comfortable here.”

He shot her a grin. “I appreciate it. But at this point I could probably fall asleep on the floor and never know the difference.”

“Suit yourself.” She returned his smile. “But if I were you, I’d give the bed a try.”

He couldn’t help laughing at her delightful sense of humor. “All right. Thanks for the advice.”

He stepped aside to allow her to pass. As she did, their bodies brushed. It was the merest touch, but enough to have his eyes narrowing on her. “Good night.”

She moved quickly, eager to put some distance between them.

As she headed toward the bedroom down the hallway she called, “You can wash up in there.” She pointed toward the bathroom, situated between their two rooms, which they would apparently share. “There’s plenty of hot water, and a supply of towels. Last one to use the shower gets to wipe down the tile and mirrors. First one gets the hottest water. I intend to be first.” She was laughing as she closed the door to her bedroom.

As Quinn tossed aside his gear and began unbuttoning his shirt, he was grinning. Having Cheyenne O’Brien share his shower might not be a bad way to start a new day.

What a fascinating woman. She had a smile that would light up a room. And from what he’d seen of her so far, she also definitely had mind of her own. Something he’d always admired in a woman.

When he’d stripped naked he climbed under the covers and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Q
uinn studied the scene outside the window. Thin ribbons of pink and mauve colored the horizon. Snow fell in a hazy curtain.

Just below his window the flat roof of the utility room lay covered in a thick blanket of white.

He’d slept like the dead before waking at dawn, as was his custom. Not wanting to wake the others, he’d managed to fill the early hours by working on his journal.

He stared at his notes with a frown.

Despite the loss of his alpha male, Quinn wouldn’t take back a single minute of the five years he’d spent trudging through waist-high drifts of snow in places so isolated, he was certain no human had ever before trod there. He had slept in hollowed-out logs, in caves, and often in the open air, with the ripple of a stream the only sound to break the silence, under an ever-changing sky. At times it was leaden and gray with snow or rain. At other times filled
with stars so bright and big they looked close enough to touch. And always, always, lulled by the sound that owned his heart. The howling of his wolf pack.

They had lived, hunted, mated, procreated, and thrived freely, ruled only by the laws of nature. And though he’d loved them, he’d remained an objective observer. He’d allowed himself to cheer their accomplishments and to share their adventures, though he had never permitted himself to intervene, even when the safety of the pack had been threatened. He’d been there merely to study, to observe, and to record their life cycle. And yesterday was no exception. He’d watched. He’d recorded. And he’d been forced to witness the death of the beautiful creature that had been the object of his scholarly studies for the past five years.

At the moment he was feeling adrift. Cut off from the life he’d so carefully built for himself. Not that he wouldn’t be happy to step back into his life as a rancher. He’d always known that the two went hand in hand. Ranching was what he’d been born to do. Studying wolves was something special that he’d chosen to do just for himself. It filled a real need in him to be one with nature.

Now, with his longtime alpha male gone, Quinn had some decisions to make. He could tag one of the pups in his pack and begin again. It made perfect sense. He knew the habits of most of the pack, and by following them and their new leader Quinn could continue the saga.

A part of him argued that, since everything happened for a reason, he might want to spend some time with his father before taking on another pack. It had been years since Quinn had had nothing more challenging than ranch chores and family matters.

He looked up and realized he’d been lost in his thoughts.

Now, with sounds of activity downstairs and the wonderful aroma of fresh coffee drifting into his room, he decided he could use the shower without feeling guilty about waking anybody.

Barefoot, his jeans unsnapped at the waist, he picked up his gear before heading down the hall. He paused outside the door of the bathroom. Hearing no sound, he let himself in. And found himself staring at a sight that stole his breath away.

Cheyenne, wearing nothing but a towel that barely covered her from torso to hips, was brushing out her long, wet hair. The instant the door opened she froze, her head coming up sharply to meet his gaze in the steamy mirror.

“You could’ve knocked.”

“I didn’t hear the water running, and figured you were already downstairs.”

When she said nothing in her defense he added, “Hey. You did brag that you’d be first in here, didn’t you? I thought you’d be long gone.”

“Yeah.” She picked up a tote filled with her bath supplies and turned away.

“Wait. Take your time. No need to rush on my—” Without thinking Quinn put a hand on her bare shoulder. At the intimate contact the rest of his words died in his throat as heat spiraled through him.

“No. I…” Equally flustered, Cheyenne felt the tote slip from her hand and drop to the floor, spilling the contents everywhere.

Reflexively they both dropped to their knees and bent to retrieve the tubes and bottles and jars, nearly butting heads as they did.

Laughing, they moved slightly apart and continued to pick up the articles, setting them in the tote.

Quinn held up a tube and read the label. “ ‘Frizz control.’ ” He chuckled. “I’ll never understand why someone blessed with perfectly natural curly hair would want to make it straight.”

“We’re just slaves to fashion, I guess.”

He grinned. “Think the cows like you better with fashionable hair?”

“Definitely.” Feeling her towel dropping dangerously low, she tugged it upward.

When she looked over and found Quinn staring at her, she felt her cheeks grow hot.

She got quickly to her feet. “Okay. I’m out of here. It’s your turn.”

Before she could make the quick exit she’d planned, he tugged on a strand of her wet hair. “Let’s start over. You deal with your hair and, when you’re done, knock on my door before you head downstairs.”

“No. I…” She turned and found him entirely too close for comfort. His eyes, smoke gray, were fixed on her with such intensity, she couldn’t look away. With nothing but a towel for cover, she was even more aware of his size, his strength, his potent maleness. Suddenly the room felt too small, too confining, with him beside her.

“I can do this in my bedroom.” She moved as quickly as possible toward the door.

He couldn’t resist teasing. “Sure you don’t want to stay and scrub my back?”

“A really lame, tired old line, Conway.”

He shot her a heart-stopping grin. “Sorry. I haven’t had much practice lately. But if you want to stay, I’m sure I can come up with something better.”

“I just bet you can. You’re on your own, cowboy.”

Once inside her own room, Cheyenne dropped down on the edge of the mattress and told herself to breathe in and out until her pulse rate returned to normal.

Without his bulky parka and heavy shirt, Quinn Conway had a fantastic body. All those sculpted muscles and that hair-roughened chest had left her tongue-tied.

If he hadn’t looked as surprised as she’d been, she would suspect him of deliberately barging in, shirtless and with those jeans unsnapped, just to tempt her. But the look on his face told her that he’d honestly expected to find the bathroom empty.

It was a good thing he was leaving right after breakfast. Even with a tired line, this guy was entirely too sexy for his own good. Or hers.

Quinn stared at the closed door and grinned foolishly. Cheyenne O’Brien was an altogether different person without the rancher’s attire. In jeans and woolen shirt, she gave off vibes of single-minded efficiency. In nothing but a towel, she offered a glimpse of a heart-stopping figure and a vulnerability that was endearing. In this steamy bathroom she’d been all woman. And downright delicious to look at. The kind of woman a man wanted to devour, bite by tasty bite.

He gave a shake of his head at the direction of his thoughts.

He shaved off the beard that had been allowed to grow while on the trail. Stripping, he turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. He soaped himself before pressing his hands to the tile wall and lifting his face to the water. As it spilled over him he gave a sigh of pure pleasure. Now this was heaven.

As he stepped out and toweled himself dry he was chuckling.
Not a bad way to start the day
, he mused. A hot shower and a view of a hot babe, all before breakfast. Now if Micah’s cooking lived up to last night’s promise, the day would be just about perfect.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he returned to the bedroom and dressed quickly before packing up his gear and heading for the stairs.

Micah stood at the stove flipping flapjacks. Sausage sizzled in a blackened skillet. Another skillet was filled with fried onions and potatoes. It was the sort of hearty ranch breakfast that was familiar to Quinn and his family.

Hearing Quinn’s footsteps on the stairs, the old man looked up. “ ’Morning. Help yourself to coffee.”

“Thanks.” Quinn filled a mug and walked to the window, watching as, in the distance, Cheyenne leaned her weight against the barn door until she’d managed to close it against the wind. With her head down against the snow that was being whipped by the wind, she made her way to the house.

He listened to the sound of the outer door being opened and closed and turned to watch as she stepped into the kitchen. For a moment their gazes met and held, and he thought he detected the slightest hint of excess color on her cheeks before she turned away. For some perverse reason, he liked knowing that he made her uncomfortable.

“Freezing out there,” she muttered to no one in particular.

Though she didn’t look at Quinn, she was acutely aware of him sitting at the table. His presence filled the room, just as he’d filled the doorway of Buddy’s bedroom last night, and the bathroom this morning. Despite her
best efforts, this wasn’t a man she could ignore. It wasn’t just that toned body, or the handsome face with those hypnotic eyes and the teasing grin. It was the man himself. Down-to-earth, direct, and sexy as hell.

“Yeah.” Micah filled a platter with a mound of flapjacks and carried it in one hand to the table, managing to balance it gracefully while using his cane with the other hand. “I promised Wes and the boys I’d deliver enough grub to hold ’em for a week or more.”

Cheyenne paused in the act of filling her coffee mug. “You think it’s wise to go up in the hills today?”

The old man shrugged. “They’ve been stuck up in that bunkhouse for more’n a week now. That spring snowstorm caught everybody by surprise. I figure they’re about to go stir-crazy unless they get some fresh, hot food to take their minds off the herd.”

Quinn drained his mug and poured more coffee. “There’s snow in those clouds. From the looks of them, there’s a big storm blowing in. You head up in the hills, you may be stuck there for a week yourself.”