Page 35 of Snow Kisses

“I’m sorry,” she said unsteadily. “I…I know it’s unpleasant for men to…well…”

“Don’t turn the knife,” he said. His voice was cutting. He dragged a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with unsteady hands. “Damn it, Abby, I can’t handle it when you do unexpected things like that! You knocked me right off balance.”

She tried to smile. “And after I promised not to try and have my way with you, too.”

But he didn’t smile. His face grew harder. “You’re tearing me inside out,” he said, standing. “If I’d thought I could stand Calla’s infernal sarcasm, I would have let her put the liniment on!”

“Next time, I’ll remember that,” she shot back. She whirled, her eyes simmering with anger. “You started it!” she accused childishly.

His nostrils flared. “Yes, I started it,” he said under his breath. “Nothing’s changed. Nothing! I touch you, and we both start trembling. It was that way when you were only eighteen, and I carried you in here, wanting you until I was just about out of my mind!” He ran an angry hand through his thick hair and glared up at her. “But I didn’t take you then, and I won’t take you now. There’s no future in it. There never was.”

“What an ego,” she threw back. “My God, you’re full of yourself!”

“That’s what you think,” he said harshly. “I went through the motions of work all day, but all I could think about was how it felt when we kissed this morning. I remembered your mouth the way a man dying of thirst remembers ice water, soft and sweet. Just how much do you think I can take?”

“Well, don’t strain yourself,” she said, turning away with a hot ache all the way to her toes. “I’ll be gone soon enough.”

“I know that,” he said. His voice sounded hollow. The mattress creaked as he got to his feet. “Sex is a lousy foundation for a relationship, Abby. We’re not going to build on it.”

She flushed in spite of herself, but she wouldn’t turn and let him see it. “Amen,” she agreed. “If you want to call off the picnic tomorrow—”

“No,” he said unexpectedly. “No, I don’t want to call it off. It will be the last time we have together.”

He said that as if it meant forever—that they’d never spend another minute alone—and she wanted to scream and cry and beg him to try and love her just a little. But she clenched her jaw and drew in a steadying breath. “Calla’s going to scream about fixing a picnic with those new hands to feed.”

“We’ll risk it,” he said shortly. “Right now, I’ve got to get back to the barn. That damned bull’s improving a little, but I want to see what the vet has to say when he checks him for the night.”

“I could pack you a sandwich and some coffee,” she offered.

“I don’t want anything.”

She opened the door and paused. “Especially me?” She laughed shakily and ran down the stairs with tears shimmering in her eyes.

Chapter Nine

Calla was cursing a blue streak when Abby walked into the kitchen the next morning at six, wearing a yellow sundress with an elasticized bodice and tiny straps that tied over each shoulder.

“Having to fry bacon and chicken all at once,” the housekeeper muttered darkly as she stood over the stove. “Picnics, with all I got to do!” She glared over her shoulder at Abby. “Well, don’t just stand there, girl, go set the table!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Abby said smartly and curtsied. The dress was one she’d designed herself, and with her loosened blond hair, she looked like something out of a fashion magazine. Calla stopped muttering long enough to give her an approving stare. “Nice,” she said after a minute. “You make that yourself?”

“Sure did.” She whirled around for Calla’s benefit,her skirt flying against her long, smooth legs. “It’s cool and comfortable and it doesn’t bind. I’ll make you one, if you like.”

“I can just see me in something like that.” The older woman sighed, indicating the dowdy housedress that covered her ample figure. Then her watery blue eyes narrowed. “You watch Cade while you’re out there alone with him, you hear me? I ain’t blind. I saw how you looked when you came out of his room last night. You make him keep his distance.”

Abby felt her cheeks go hot. “Now, Calla…”

“Don’t you ‘now, Calla’ me! I know Cade. He hasn’t been the same since you walked through the front door, and it ain’t because of the cattle.” Her chin lifted. “You and I both know how he feels about weddings, Abigail,” she added gently, using the younger woman’s full name, as she rarely did except when she was serious. “You’re my lamb, and I love him, too, but I don’t want you hurt. Melly told me what happened. Don’t you jump out of the frying pan into the fire. All you’ll find here is heartache.”

Abby smothered an urge to hug the concerned old woman, knowing it wouldn’t be welcome. “You’re sure about that?” she asked softly.

“He looks at you like a starving man looks at a steak smothered with onions,” Calla replied. “But once he’s fed, young lady, he’s just as likely to find he’s lost his taste for steak. You get my meaning? Wanting ain’t loving.”

“I know that,” she said on a wistful sigh.

“Then act accordingly. He’s been sticking close tothe ranch for quite a while now,” Calla added gently. “A hungry man is dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl,” Abby reminded her. “I can look out for myself—most of the time, anyway.”

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