make a big breakfast and pack lunches for the team going out on the round-up. Later, when the job was done, Emma and her ladies would have a huge roast beef meal with all the trimmings waiting for them.
Fall round-ups had run this way for as long as Callan could remember. Back when her father was younger, they’d had twice the number of cattle and the round-up had taken two days, requiring a camp-out in the mountains for the first night.
The final message was from Mattie, reporting that she and Nat were safely home. She’d heard from Portia and Wren and their flights to Denver and Seattle had been on time, so all was good.
“Hope you’re okay, Callan. I feel badly that we left you there all alone.”
Suddenly homesick for her sisters, Callan blinked back tears. She returned the phone to the dock and turned out the bank of lights, leaving only the hall light from the second floor to guide her up the stairs.
Just as she reached the landing, Court stepped out of the bathroom wearing only his jeans. She froze, startled to see that he was far from the out-of-shape city boy she’d pegged him as. In fact, he was in damn good shape. She drew her gaze from his abs to his pecs, finally reaching his face. “Um. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Great.”
With a shock, she saw he was checking out her legs. As his gaze travelled up she became very aware of how the thin cotton of her nightdress clung to her curves.
And then he was looking into her eyes and the realization that this man was not related to her in any way suddenly hit her hard, along with a burst of heat that she recognized as very dangerous.
“Callan.” He looked into her eyes with a longing that made her blood go hot and her legs feel weak. “This is the last complication I expected to find at the Circle C.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She couldn’t move without brushing past him. And she didn’t dare let her skin risk contact with his.
“You feel it, too. Don’t deny, it.”
He took a step closer. A force was trying to draw her into doing the same. Two more steps and she’d be in his arms.
“I feel nothing, except the need to get some sleep.” She tightened her jaw. “If you would please excuse me?”
He hesitated, then stepped to the side. “Of course. Good night, Callan.”
As she marched past him, her nerve ends screamed at her to do something very different.
No. No! She did not need this, not on top of everything else she had to deal with. She hurried for the safety of her own room, shutting the door hard enough to make the doorframe rattle.
––––––––
––––––––
C ourt woke up before dawn, feeling a complicated stew of excitement and trepidation. All his life he’d heard Hawksley and his father talk about the round-ups at the Circle C. Today, he would get to be a part of one. But he would have the added complication of spending the day with Callan. Too soon to say if that was a good thing or not.
On his way to the washroom he noticed Callan’s bedroom door was open, revealing an unoccupied dark space. He couldn’t resist taking a peek inside. Her bed was unmade and that sexy little nightdress she’d worn last night was discarded in a puddle on the floor.
Over the years he’d wondered what the Carrigan girls would be like, especially Callan, the only daughter who had stayed and worked on the Circle C. From Hawksley’s talk, he’d pictured a tough, almost masculine-looking woman. But the reality was pretty much the opposite. Callan was about the loveliest woman he’d ever met. And on horseback she was totally in her element. When they’d ridden out to scatter the ashes, he’d been hard pressed to tear his gaze from her to look at the scenery.
A clatter from the kitchen and the sound of women murmuring galvanized him to action. Quickly he washed up then headed downstairs. Several women he didn’t recognize were bustling around the stove and the sink. Callan was at the island,
Fall round-ups had run this way for as long as Callan could remember. Back when her father was younger, they’d had twice the number of cattle and the round-up had taken two days, requiring a camp-out in the mountains for the first night.
The final message was from Mattie, reporting that she and Nat were safely home. She’d heard from Portia and Wren and their flights to Denver and Seattle had been on time, so all was good.
“Hope you’re okay, Callan. I feel badly that we left you there all alone.”
Suddenly homesick for her sisters, Callan blinked back tears. She returned the phone to the dock and turned out the bank of lights, leaving only the hall light from the second floor to guide her up the stairs.
Just as she reached the landing, Court stepped out of the bathroom wearing only his jeans. She froze, startled to see that he was far from the out-of-shape city boy she’d pegged him as. In fact, he was in damn good shape. She drew her gaze from his abs to his pecs, finally reaching his face. “Um. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Great.”
With a shock, she saw he was checking out her legs. As his gaze travelled up she became very aware of how the thin cotton of her nightdress clung to her curves.
And then he was looking into her eyes and the realization that this man was not related to her in any way suddenly hit her hard, along with a burst of heat that she recognized as very dangerous.
“Callan.” He looked into her eyes with a longing that made her blood go hot and her legs feel weak. “This is the last complication I expected to find at the Circle C.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She couldn’t move without brushing past him. And she didn’t dare let her skin risk contact with his.
“You feel it, too. Don’t deny, it.”
He took a step closer. A force was trying to draw her into doing the same. Two more steps and she’d be in his arms.
“I feel nothing, except the need to get some sleep.” She tightened her jaw. “If you would please excuse me?”
He hesitated, then stepped to the side. “Of course. Good night, Callan.”
As she marched past him, her nerve ends screamed at her to do something very different.
No. No! She did not need this, not on top of everything else she had to deal with. She hurried for the safety of her own room, shutting the door hard enough to make the doorframe rattle.
––––––––
––––––––
C ourt woke up before dawn, feeling a complicated stew of excitement and trepidation. All his life he’d heard Hawksley and his father talk about the round-ups at the Circle C. Today, he would get to be a part of one. But he would have the added complication of spending the day with Callan. Too soon to say if that was a good thing or not.
On his way to the washroom he noticed Callan’s bedroom door was open, revealing an unoccupied dark space. He couldn’t resist taking a peek inside. Her bed was unmade and that sexy little nightdress she’d worn last night was discarded in a puddle on the floor.
Over the years he’d wondered what the Carrigan girls would be like, especially Callan, the only daughter who had stayed and worked on the Circle C. From Hawksley’s talk, he’d pictured a tough, almost masculine-looking woman. But the reality was pretty much the opposite. Callan was about the loveliest woman he’d ever met. And on horseback she was totally in her element. When they’d ridden out to scatter the ashes, he’d been hard pressed to tear his gaze from her to look at the scenery.
A clatter from the kitchen and the sound of women murmuring galvanized him to action. Quickly he washed up then headed downstairs. Several women he didn’t recognize were bustling around the stove and the sink. Callan was at the island,
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