Page 33 of That Fateful Ride

She couldn’t even begin to say who said that phrase, so focused on the hard body before her, nothing else mattered.

Tearing her gaze from his ass, she moved it over his trim waist and up. Sure enough on his broad shoulders, there were scratch marks. Nausea churned.

“Nice.” Whatwasthe proper response for seeing the marks of another woman on a man?

“Got them on his forearms too,” Pete chortled. “He won’t give us her name though. Not fair ‘cause I want a go at her. I’ve had all the whores at Right Hand and none of them left marks on me like that.”

Cy turned around and her gaze latched onto his muscled arms. Pete was right. More scratches. Wait a moment. That’s where she’d held him. Did she do that? And his back? Meeting his dark hazel eyes she couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath.

“Guess she was something else.”

His eyes burned. “You have no idea.”

Cy kepthis gaze directly on Rebecca. It hadn’t been his imagination when he’d seen the jealousy in her eyes. He wanted to go to her, gather her close, and kiss her. Run his hands over her and strip her bare. Just for starters.

He’d missed her. She’d only been gone a couple of days and yet he still missed being around her. Her expression was one of disinterest before she readjusted her bags and walked off. Shoving down his urge to follow her, he went back to the fence and gathered his tools before putting them away. He went inside and made their evening meal.

Christ, she was wearing buckskins now. The temperatures had dropped swiftly the past few days, a sure sign of approaching winter. He swore and slammed the pan on the stovetop. The men were loud and raucous at the meal and he noted they included Robert. He swirled his coffee around in his mug and watched as she inched her way to the door.

“A word, Robert.”

“Yes, sir.”

He swallowed the last of his coffee and rose from the table. They stood by the door, out of hearing for those eating but within view. As much as he wanted to have her in private there was no reason.

“How’s your brother?”

“Fine.” Her tone was cool and composed.

“Is he coming back soon?”

Every inch of her stiffened. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your life soon enough.”

Crap. He just couldn’t get the words right around her. “That’s not what—” she brushed by and out the door. “—I meant,” he finished.

The cold pumphandle pushed through her gloves and she shivered as the wind whipped around her. She wouldn’t be out in this weather if not for the need for more water. Two more pumps and she should be good.

“Robert!”

Blinking away the stinging dirt carried by the wind she saw Tyler standing in the bunkhouse doorway.

“What’s up, Tyler?”

“We’re playing poker. Come on. We’re dealing you in.”

“Have to drop this off first.” She thumbed back to the main house where they ate their meals. Cy had asked her to bring some more water in.

“Fine, but be back in time for the next hand.” He stepped back inside and slammed the door.

“Sure thing,” she muttered to the emptiness of the prairie.

Finished filling the second bucket, she adjusted her gloves once more and picked up each handle. Body aching and sore, she moved carefully not to spill any of the water he would need for cooking and cleaning.

In all honestly, it wasn’t a lot different than hauling water for the laundry she used to do.Seems like such a long time ago.

At the door she set the buckets down and opened it before hefting them once more and carrying them inside. “Cy?”

No answer.

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