Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(34)

How could he not admire a woman who showed such steadfast loyalty to her family and courage in the face of such odds?

Though it was not her loyalty or her courage he admired as she walked the path in front of him, her hips swaying with each step.

Blast it! This was getting out of control.

He’d do well to steer clear of her whenever possible. No more asking questions about her family or delving into her history. He didn’t need to be admiring her—any of her—and he sure as heck didn’t need to be thinking about or worrying over what would happen to her. All he needed to do was figure a way out so he could turn Rachel Sutter and her delectable little body into nothing more than a fading memory.

Until then, he’d be sure to keep as much distance between her and him as possible.



Rachel hesitated at the doorway leading into the newly constructed addition Caleb had built. Shafts of yellow sunlight wound around the beams and columns, painting the honey-colored floor with a warm, inviting glow. On the front wall, catching the afternoon sun, the frame for a large window gave her a view of the old oak and the road that led to town.

It would be beautiful once completed. A real home. She couldn’t wait to see—

Her thoughts skidded to a stop, and the fear she tried hard to hold at bay pounded frantically at her heart’s door. Likely she wouldn’t be around to see the finished product or to enjoy it. Despite Caleb’s decision to let her family stay in the home, she knew eventually his patience would wear thin living in the small bunkhouse. And once he decided to move into the house she would have no other choice but to move out. She’d yet to puzzle out where she would move to, however.

It both amazed and worried her how much work he’d accomplished in such a short period of time. His strong and efficient work ethic stood in stark contrast to his drifter ways, a strange dichotomy. The man possessed too many layers to count, and each one seemed to contradict the one that came before it.

Rachel set the tray filled with a bowl of steaming hot chili and fresh biscuits on the makeshift workbench. She could have called Caleb into the kitchen to take his noon meal, but he had so far been disinclined to share meals with the other men and her family. She also had a few things she wanted to say without Freedom’s watchful gaze taking it all in.

Caleb’s back faced her as he made measurements along one of the wooden posts running floor to ceiling. She watched for a moment, taking in the full length of him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the trim waist, watching the subtle movements as he made a few marks with a pencil. Engrossed in his work, she didn’t think he was aware of her presence, yet she’d been duped before.

“I brought you lunch.”

“Much obliged.” He didn’t turn around or glance over his shoulder to acknowledge her in any way. He moved the triangular apparatus in his hand down several inches to a lower section of the post and made a few more marks. The rebuff rankled, though she was even more irritated by how much it bothered her in the first place.

“I thought we might speak briefly.”

“Kinda busy at this particular moment.”

Rachel pulled her lips inward and breathed deeply through her nose to calm her churning emotions. She did not care for his casual dismissal. She had something to say, and she needed to say it before her nerve faltered. She feared saying anything that might prompt him to throw her and her family off the only place they called home.

“It’s rather important. It won’t take long.”

The loud sigh and way the sweeping expanse of his shoulders slumped did not bode well. The fear residing inside of her since this ordeal began twisted in her belly, whispering that she should reconsider, scuttle back to the kitchen and keep her mouth shut. But she’d never been one to back down from a confrontation, and she wasn’t about to start now. She swallowed her fear and stiffened her spine.

Caleb carefully set the pencil and triangle on a cross beam and turned around. For a brief moment her throat constricted. She was not yet accustomed to seeing him without his hat shading half his face. On the rare occasions he came into the house and automatically removed it, showing he at least had learned some manners, Rachel made a concerted effort to look the other way. Eye contact with this man causes her more problems than it was worth, setting her mind reeling in all kinds of unwanted directions.

But now she had little choice. She could hardly have a conversation with him while staring at the ceiling and she couldn’t allow him to work while she spoke and risk him not hearing her. Although the way he stared at her with those hazel eyes, stubble grazing the sharp angles of his jaw, his lips sensual and strong, made her wish she was addressing his back.