No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) by Amanda McIntyre Page A
Authors: Amanda McIntyre
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over his mouth and peered up at her with a narrowed look. “I think I’m following you. Just promise me there won’t be a quiz at the end.”
Sally snorted. This whole gossip wildfire incident had been a revelation. There were, apparently, men in town willing to bed her, but not marry her. And while at first, she’d found the idea playfully amusing—when she still had the luxury of her inheritance—it all seemed suddenly disheartening. Sally covered her face, unable to stop the dam of emotions breaking through. How had she gotten into this mess? Was she cursed to die alone with a houseful of cats running around her newly renovated home? The thought brought forth another anguished sob. She felt a weight around her shoulder and startled, looking up to see Clay’s expression—a mix of surprise mixed with concern.
“Sally, it’s going to be okay,” he said softly. His gaze held hers.
She clung to his words, searched eyes that she hadn’t noticed until now were really quite striking for the truth. Without thought, she wrapped her hand around his head and brought his lips to hers. Surprised as he no doubt was, she was desperate for the closeness, the intimacy. Her lips met his—akin to kissing a flat piece of wood.
This was a bad idea.
Until his hand curled around the back of her neck and his mouth came alive, capturing hers, effectively stopping all rational thought.
She moved her hand to his jaw, wanting to know the moment was real, brushing her fingertips across his unshaven cheek. Each time she thought the kiss was over, he’d capture her mouth again. Had they been anywhere else, there was little no doubt where this would most certainly lead.
“Miss Andersen? Mr. Saunders?” Emilee Kinnison’s young voice severed the kiss, ending the intimacy. Sally had to catch herself from falling forward when Clay bolted to his feet.
Emilee skipped in, stopping short a few feet in the door. Sadie, the Kinnison brothers’ first dog from their step-dad, trotted in at a slower pace, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. The little girl looked at Clay, then Sally. It had never been proven, but on more than one occasion, Emilee had indicated she had the gift, like her grandmother, of being a seer. To the Crow tribe, it was a gift passed on only to the females. Sally only hoped that whatever Emilee might have sensed was no more than PG-13.
The young girl beamed. “Grandma sent me down to tell you that supper is ready.”
“Thank you, Em. Mr. Saunders was just telling me about his time overseas.” She walked over and took the young girl’s hand. “Come on, I’ll race you back to the house.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You coming, Mr. Saunders?”
She saw his jaw twitch. His smoky gaze indicated that kiss was anything but friendly.
“Be up in a bit,” he answered.
The brisk run did little to quell the feelings Clay’s kisses had stirred inside her. He’d seen the brochures, was most certainly aware of the rumors in town about her wanting a baby daddy. Maybe he was testing the waters for himself.
Later, as the entire Kinnison clan—including her, Clay, and Michael and Rebecca Greyfeather—sat around the massive, family table, Sally refused to make eye contact with Clay, and instead made small talk about the upcoming meeting at Betty’s.
“We found tons of colored tissue paper when we went to Billings,” Angelique offered. “We’ll have plenty to make our giant tissue flowers.”
Liberty pushed back from the table. “I hate to call it a night, but suddenly I’m barely able to keep my eyes open.”
Rein was up from his chair, helping Liberty to where their coats hung in the foyer. Seated next to Emilee, Sally noticed the young girl’s concern. “Hey, Em, Liberty’s going to be fine. Sometimes women who are going to have a baby get tired.” She nudged the girl’s shoulder. “Sometimes even when they aren’t going to have a baby, women get tired.” Sally winked at Emilee and
Sally snorted. This whole gossip wildfire incident had been a revelation. There were, apparently, men in town willing to bed her, but not marry her. And while at first, she’d found the idea playfully amusing—when she still had the luxury of her inheritance—it all seemed suddenly disheartening. Sally covered her face, unable to stop the dam of emotions breaking through. How had she gotten into this mess? Was she cursed to die alone with a houseful of cats running around her newly renovated home? The thought brought forth another anguished sob. She felt a weight around her shoulder and startled, looking up to see Clay’s expression—a mix of surprise mixed with concern.
“Sally, it’s going to be okay,” he said softly. His gaze held hers.
She clung to his words, searched eyes that she hadn’t noticed until now were really quite striking for the truth. Without thought, she wrapped her hand around his head and brought his lips to hers. Surprised as he no doubt was, she was desperate for the closeness, the intimacy. Her lips met his—akin to kissing a flat piece of wood.
This was a bad idea.
Until his hand curled around the back of her neck and his mouth came alive, capturing hers, effectively stopping all rational thought.
She moved her hand to his jaw, wanting to know the moment was real, brushing her fingertips across his unshaven cheek. Each time she thought the kiss was over, he’d capture her mouth again. Had they been anywhere else, there was little no doubt where this would most certainly lead.
“Miss Andersen? Mr. Saunders?” Emilee Kinnison’s young voice severed the kiss, ending the intimacy. Sally had to catch herself from falling forward when Clay bolted to his feet.
Emilee skipped in, stopping short a few feet in the door. Sadie, the Kinnison brothers’ first dog from their step-dad, trotted in at a slower pace, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. The little girl looked at Clay, then Sally. It had never been proven, but on more than one occasion, Emilee had indicated she had the gift, like her grandmother, of being a seer. To the Crow tribe, it was a gift passed on only to the females. Sally only hoped that whatever Emilee might have sensed was no more than PG-13.
The young girl beamed. “Grandma sent me down to tell you that supper is ready.”
“Thank you, Em. Mr. Saunders was just telling me about his time overseas.” She walked over and took the young girl’s hand. “Come on, I’ll race you back to the house.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You coming, Mr. Saunders?”
She saw his jaw twitch. His smoky gaze indicated that kiss was anything but friendly.
“Be up in a bit,” he answered.
The brisk run did little to quell the feelings Clay’s kisses had stirred inside her. He’d seen the brochures, was most certainly aware of the rumors in town about her wanting a baby daddy. Maybe he was testing the waters for himself.
Later, as the entire Kinnison clan—including her, Clay, and Michael and Rebecca Greyfeather—sat around the massive, family table, Sally refused to make eye contact with Clay, and instead made small talk about the upcoming meeting at Betty’s.
“We found tons of colored tissue paper when we went to Billings,” Angelique offered. “We’ll have plenty to make our giant tissue flowers.”
Liberty pushed back from the table. “I hate to call it a night, but suddenly I’m barely able to keep my eyes open.”
Rein was up from his chair, helping Liberty to where their coats hung in the foyer. Seated next to Emilee, Sally noticed the young girl’s concern. “Hey, Em, Liberty’s going to be fine. Sometimes women who are going to have a baby get tired.” She nudged the girl’s shoulder. “Sometimes even when they aren’t going to have a baby, women get tired.” Sally winked at Emilee and
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