Shotgun Vows (15 page)

 

Later, her brother and Reed went to the market while Mattie sat on the couch in the family room, staring thoughtfully into the blazing fire. Her sister-in-law sat cross-legged on the floor beside the hearth, clearly savoring the warmth.

“What's wrong, Mattie?” she asked.

“I forgot about dessert.”

“No worries,” Mallory said.

“Are you making fun of my accent or do you just like that expression?” Mattie asked with a fleeting grin.

“Both. But truly, don't worry about it. Dawson and Reed will be back in a few minutes with something to satisfy our sweet tooth. I'm sending mental telepathy that it's to be gooey and chocolate.”

“I feel so inadequate. What kind of a wife am I?” She bit the corner of her lip, cutting off the threat of a sob slipping out. Her anxiety had nothing to do with chocolate, and everything to do with the fact that she couldn't make Dawson invite her into his bed.

“What is it?” Mallory asked. “This is more than just forgetting dessert. Is it the circumstances of your marriage?”

“You know about that?” Mattie felt her cheeks grow warm, and it certainly wasn't from the fire in the fireplace. Reluctantly, she met her sister-in-law's gaze.

“Dawson told me pretty much everything. He said you tried to take the blame, too, but Griff wouldn't listen.”

“My brother is a blockhead. And for a brilliant man,
your
brother is a moron.” Mattie realized what
she'd said and who she'd said it to. “I'm sorry, Mallory. I didn't mean—”

“Yes, you did,” she interrupted. “And when you're right, far be it from me to contradict you. But why do
you
think he's a moron?”

Mattie threw up her hands. “I've tried everything I can think of to make this marriage work.”

“Why isn't it working? It's only been a short time. How can you tell?”

“For starters, we aren't sleeping in the same bed. I bet Brody and Jillian don't have that problem. Or you and Reed.” Mattie saw the dreamy smile on her sister-in-law's face, and knew she'd spent last night in the arms of the man she loved.

“No, we definitely sleep in the same bed,” Mallory said, confirming her suspicions. “But you two are newlyweds. You've already done the wild thing. I don't understand why you—”

“I don't want things to be this way,” she assured the other woman. “But I'm afraid to just come out and ask him about it. If he turned me down, I don't know if I could take it—” She bit her lip again.

“Have you tried?”

“Seducing him?” Mattie nodded vigorously. “I fixed a wonderful dinner, set out candles and flowers in front of the fireplace. Got a bottle of wine. Bought a sensational outfit.”

“What happened?” Mallory asked.

“He mumbled something about having unfinished work at the office. He couldn't get out of here fast enough. He just doesn't want me.”

“I don't believe that for a second. If anything, my guess would be that he's trying to protect you.”

“From what?” Mattie asked, bewildered.

“I couldn't say. But Dawson takes care of the people he loves. He married you to protect you. And tonight I've seen the way he looks at you whenever you're in the room. He can't take his eyes off you. Mattie, he's a goner.”

“You're just a hopeless romantic,” Mattie scoffed. “I don't think I believe in happy endings anymore.”

“I'm a hope
ful
romantic. Although I admit your happy ending might take a bit of work.” Mallory shifted her position, stretching her legs out as if they were cramped.

“What kind of work?”

“Make him jealous,” her sister-in-law suggested. “It worked for me with your brother. When my ex-fiancé showed up here, it got Reed's attention in a big way.”

“But I don't have an ex-fiancé. I've never even had another boyfriend. How am I going to make Dawson jealous?”

“You work at the Double Crown, right?”

Mattie nodded. “But the cowboys are my friends. Almost like brothers to me.”

“Dawson doesn't know that.”

“I have to admit, he didn't seem too happy when I told him one of the cowboys was picking me up and giving me a ride to the ranch,” she admitted.

“See?” Mallory said, warming to her subject.

“I don't know,” Mattie said, shaking her head doubtfully. “I don't think I can play games like that.”

“If my brother is as jealous as I think he is, you won't have to do anything but stand next to another guy.”

“I'll think about it,” Mattie agreed. “Thanks for listening.”

The front door opened and her brother Reed walked in with Dawson right behind him. Mattie's heart beat faster at the sight of her husband. Was Mallory right? Would she get his attention if he thought another man was interested in her?

Reed went directly to his wife and kissed her. Mattie sighed at the appealing picture they made. Her brother's blond hair, pale blue eyes, and rugged good looks were an attractive counterpoint to his wife's femininity.

Dawson set a package on the kitchen table, then joined them in the family room. “So what have you girls been talking about?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

Mallory's eyes took on a mischievous twinkle as she said, “Not much. Just about brothers being block-heads.”

T
wo weeks later, Dawson decided his sister's words definitely fit him to a
T
tonight. He was, indeed, a blockhead.

He'd left the warmth of his house in the suburbs. His suit jacket was forgotten in the car. And now he hunched his shoulders against the bitter December wind as he walked to the barn on the Double Crown. After work, he'd driven to the ranch, poked his head in the house to say a quick hello to Ryan and Lily, then headed back out into the cold. Why?

Mattie.

The answer came to him as clear as the Texas sky above filled with twinkling stars. When she'd called the office and left a message with his secretary that she would be home late, he'd decided to drop by and surprise her. But on the drive out, he'd realized a couple of things.

His reasoning had less to do with a surprise, than it did with the fact that he didn't relish the idea of going home to an empty house. Somehow, Mattie had insinuated herself into his life, and she'd done it without effort in a sinfully short period of time. That big, cold house without her warm, whirlwind presence was as desolate as the Texas prairie on a cloudy night.

The second reason he'd driven out here had a whole lot to do with atonement. Ever since the night he'd
run out on her romantic dinner, he'd been haunted by the wounded look in her gray eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt her. In fact, every single thing he did was to keep from doing just that.

“And it's working just great,” he muttered sarcastically. The wind howled past his ears in response.

She was young and vulnerable; he was older and wiser. It was up to him to take charge and make sure she didn't get in over her head with a guy like him. If he were a better man, a man worthy of love from a woman like Mattie, things would be different. But he'd proved in spades that he wasn't. All he could do now was minimize battle damage and protect her from himself.

The third reason he'd decided to surprise her was to protect Mattie from other guys who had things on their minds besides transportation to and from the ranch. No way could he convince her not to work on the Double Crown. The horses were too important to her. And she was too good with them. She had a gift, and it would be a crime if she didn't use it. But the thought of the Double Crown ranch hands using their hands on her while chauffeuring her made him nuts. Until he got her a car of her own, he decided, he would taxi her back and forth himself.

He stopped outside the barn and saw light around the door, then heard voices. When he recognized Mattie's, his breath quickened. It had nothing to do with walking uphill; it was the seductive quality wrapped around every word that passed her full, kissable lips that made him hard with need. Next he heard a masculine voice, and his gut clenched. It hadn't occurred to him that she was working with anyone else. Who was in there with her?

The door creaked as he swung it wide, and instantly the scents that assailed him left no doubt that he was in a barn. He looked down the dusty, hay-strewn aisle between gated stalls, spotting Mattie at the end—with a guy he'd never seen before. A cowboy. A
young
cowboy. No doubt about that, what with the hat, boots, denims and work shirt. At this distance he couldn't tell for sure, but he thought the cowboy was just a kid, closer to Mattie's age than his own. The thought made his throat constrict.

He watched her for a moment, coiling a length of rope. Her movements were graceful and confident. She was in her element, her world. When she reached up to hang the lariat on the nail nearby, Dawson's gut tightened another notch. A vision flashed through his mind of her midriff, her flesh bared to his gaze as her top slid up bit by bit, when she stretched for something in his kitchen cupboard. The memory made him long to see even a glimpse of her beautiful breasts. If he'd stayed a second longer that evening, he would have stretched her out on the kitchen table and made love to her right there. Had she known what the sight of her that way did to him? Was she trying to make the young cowboy feel that same gut-twisting need? Like he wanted to scoop her up, lay her out, and love her until neither of them had any strength left? At the thought of another man touching her that way, white-hot fury shot through him.

When she'd replaced the rope, Mattie leaned back against the gate, one leg bent with her boot heel resting on a slat. The cowboy stood across from her, thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets. Neither of them had noticed him yet. If she'd been with anyone besides a cowboy, his blood pressure might have stayed steady.
But he knew that kid was exactly the kind of mate she'd wanted for herself, and Dawson had robbed her of the chance to be with him.

The thought made him angry—mostly at himself. Even though he knew it was wrong, it added insult to injury. All he could think about was getting her away from this guy and having her all to himself.

He started toward them, and his shoes rustled the straw.

She looked up, straightening as he drew closer. “Dawson.”

“Mattie.”

“You're probably the last person I would have expected to see in the barn,” she said, glancing at his dusty black loafers and city-slicker slacks.

Was that a guilty look on her face? He was a couple of feet away and couldn't tell for sure. It could have been pleasure at the sight of him, but he wouldn't bet his last dollar on it. Why would she be glad to see him? She was with a good-looking cowboy. A
young,
good-looking cowboy. Dawson suddenly felt old and tired. Old and just plain old. Followed by more old and really angry. A combustible combination.

“I got your message, that you were working late,” he said.

She nodded. “The foreman hired a new hand.”

“Yeah. So I noticed.” He eyed kid cowboy.

Mattie glanced at her lanky, dark-haired, blue-eyed companion. “This is Zach Conroy. All the other guys had errands in town. I offered to show him the ropes.”

“Literally?” Dawson asked, glancing at the rope she had just hung up.

She chuckled. “No pun intended.”

Zach stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Dawson winced at the word
sir,
a term of respect he'd always given his father. Since Dawson had turned into a Geoffrey Prescott clone, he figured “sir” was probably appropriate. But having the word directed at him was like having salt rubbed in a festering wound.

He contemplated ignoring the kid's hand, but couldn't forget that he was also his mother's son, taught to mind his manners. “Welcome to the Double Crown, Zach. You couldn't have a better teacher than my
wife.
”

“No, sir.” The kid slid him a nervous look.

“My
husband
is a shameless flatterer.” Mattie mimicked his emphasis, but she looked at him as if he'd grown another head.

“It's not flattery if it's the truth,” he countered.

“Dawson, what are you doing all the way out here?” she asked, her tone reflecting confusion that was just this side of exasperation.

Protecting you from the likes of him,
he thought. Instead he said, “I'm here to give you a lift home.”

She smiled warmly as if his explanation pleased her. “What a nice surprise. Shall I ask Aunt Lily if we can stay for supper. It's late and—”

He shot Zach a withering glance, then took her arm and started walking toward the door. “Mattie's off duty. You're on your own, kid,” he said to the cowboy. In a lower voice he said to her, “It is late. I want to get you home.”

 

Get you home.

The words sang through Mattie's mind all the way to the house. They were just dripping with suggestion. What would he do with her when he got her home? She dearly hoped that it would be more than when
he'd gotten her home on their wedding night. She fervently prayed it would be a lot more than her dismal failure of a romantic dinner. Maybe his feelings were changing. He certainly hadn't acted like himself when he'd found her in the barn with Zach.

Was he jealous? Was Mallory right about his showing his affection if he thought she was interested in someone else? There was unmistakable strain in him. He'd hardly said two words all the way home. He'd driven as if he couldn't leave the ranch behind fast enough. And his pace never slowed as they set a land-speed record on the highway back to the house. Her body hummed with anticipation, and her heart soared with hope that he would love her, body and soul.

He braked the car in front of the garage and pressed the door opener. Mattie opened her mouth to say something, then glanced at Dawson. Tension hardened his features and tightened his mouth to a straight line. His shoulders were rigid and his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

She closed her mouth. It could wait.

They entered the kitchen, and Mattie suddenly felt grungy from her day's work. “I'm going to take a shower,” she said.

“Suit yourself.”

Not the response of a man intent on ravishing his woman,
she thought as doubt crept in. She went into her room and stripped off her boots, jeans, shirt and undergarments. In the shower, she washed her hair as she puzzled over Dawson. He was annoyed with her, and she wasn't exactly sure why. It had something to do with Zach. But Zach was just a kid. The more she puzzled, the more uneasy she became. Her neck muscles tightened and she realized Dawson's tension was
contagious. Damn him, anyway. She always looked forward to her evening shower. Thanks to him and his little tizzy, she couldn't even enjoy it. Maybe it was time to get things out in the open between them.

She shut the water off, then grabbed a big, fluffy bath towel and wrapped it around herself. In her dressing area, she took another towel and dried her hair, before running a comb through it. When she walked into her bedroom, she saw Dawson standing beside the bed. She had the feeling that he'd paced like a caged beast while she'd showered. His eyes had the look of a hungry tiger ready to do battle for his primal needs. She clutched her towel, then realized she wasn't exactly dressed for battle. Or was she?

“If you're through, I have a few things to say to you.” He planted his feet wide apart. Then, almost unwillingly, his gaze lowered from her eyes to the knot where her towel came together over her breasts. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly as if he were scenting his prey. “Put some clothes on first.”

“Just say what you have to say.” She might not have her armor on, but she wasn't going to back down from a confrontation. She lowered her hands to her sides and lifted her chin. “Fire when ready,” she said.

“Your call,” he said with a shrug. But his hands were a little unsteady as he stuck them in his pockets. “For starters—you and Zach alone in the barn.”

Aha! She'd been right. At least he didn't beat around the bush. “I already told you. I offered to show him the ranch. In your line of work I believe you call it ‘orientation.'”

“And just what else were you
orienting
him about?” he asked, his eyes narrowing on her. “The two of you looked mighty cozy.”

“I resent your tone and that question. We were merely talking.”

“I didn't like it.”

“He's new. He doesn't know anyone. We were just getting acquainted.”

“I still didn't like it.”

“Why not? What in the world was there to object to? Talking in the barn?”

“Maybe the fact that nine out of ten guys talking to a beautiful woman in the barn would want a roll in the hay.”

Her temper snapped. “Apparently I married number ten, the only man who doesn't want me—in the barn, in his bed, or anywhere else for that matter.”

“Shows how much you know about men,” he muttered. His gaze raked over her—from her bare feet and legs, over her abdomen, to her breasts. A muscle in his jaw contracted, and his eyes darkened. “Where's your common sense, Mattie? You don't know that guy.”

“No. But all my instincts tell me he's a good guy.”

“You're a sitting duck all alone in the barn. What if your instincts were wrong?”

She hoped to God they were right, because her instincts were commanding her to do something now, that could send her to heaven—or land her in hell. She was going to put everything on the line—her body, her heart, her soul.

Mattie dropped her towel. “My mother once said that arguing naked was the prescription for a healthy marriage.” But she was so scared that he would turn his back on her. Then what would she do?

He swallowed hard as his eyes devoured her. “Only
one of us is naked,” he said in a hoarse voice, as one corner of his mouth quirked.

At least he'd stopped yelling at her about being alone in the barn. But that wasn't all. The bulge in his slacks told her that he wanted her.

Mattie's heart started to pound when he moved toward her. He reached out a trembling hand and cupped her face in his palm. It was the only sign she needed. She started to unbutton his shirt. He ripped it from his waistband, then helped her with the buttons before dragging it off his shoulders. Her breath caught at the sight of his bare chest, its masculine sprinkling of hair tapering down to disappear into his trousers.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he unbuckled his belt and undid the hook on his pants. The bulge there made her heart and spirit soar with the knowledge of her power.

Then he met her gaze. She knew he was giving her the opportunity to refuse to go any further. This was the point of no return.

She reached out and rested her hand over his heart, and felt it pound. “One of us still has too many clothes on,” she said, her tone husky.

He sucked in a breath. “I'm luckier than nine out of ten guys. And you're mistaken about me not wanting you.”

“I've never been happier to be wrong,” she whispered, her heart so full that she didn't trust her voice.