Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(36)

“From what?” She lifted her chin, trying to show bravado she didn’t own. His nearness, the way he looked at her, made her head swirl and her body tingle until she felt downright...hitchy.

“From this, maybe.”

He reached up and his work-worn knuckles grazed her cheek, slowly drawing a path downward until she ached so badly it took all of her willpower not to beg him rid her of it. Her breathing grew labored. She needed to step away. Freedom could walk in here at any moment, and the last thing Rachel needed was more suggestions that she should marry Caleb. But her legs wouldn’t work.

His gaze intensified and her knees grew weak. “You deserve more than this.”

She swallowed. “More than what?” Her voice was breathy and quiet, barely recognizable.

“More than scrabbling every day to make ends meet. Working yourself to exhaustion. Worrying about everyone else’s needs and never tending to your own.” Caleb’s hand slid to her throat, his thumb teasing the edge of her jaw. She trembled, her body barely able to contain the feelings stirring inside of her.

“Are you offering to tend to my needs?” Heat flushed every inch of her the moment the words left her mouth and she realized what she has said.

“Do you want me to?”

The sound of the door banging on its hinges jolted Rachel back to reality and she jumped back, guiltily glancing at the opening that led to the kitchen. Voices drifted toward them.

Her hand flew to her face. The heat of humiliation scalded her skin. She stared at Caleb. He stood there watching her react, any opinion he had on her bold behavior carefully locked away.

“I didn’t mean that,” she whispered, backing further away from him, as if the distance could turn back time and erase what she had done, the things she’d said.

“No?”

She closed her eyes briefly and took in a deep breath. It didn’t help. She needed to get out of there, away from him.

“Your lunch is growing cold.” She waved a hand at the tray as she inched her way toward the door. He ignored his lunch and continued to watch her, studying her like an ant under a magnifying glass. She reached out and felt for the newly constructed archway leading to the kitchen. She spun on her heel and hurried through it.

Freedom glanced over her shoulder from where she stood at the counter chopping potatoes for the supper stew. Ethan sat at the table eating a plate of beans.

“What is wrong with you, child? You’re so flushed you look like you was conversin’ up close with the devil hisself.”

“I think I may have been,” Rachel said, for surely only the devil could tempt her in such a way that she forgot all about the years she’d spent keeping her desires in check so as not to turn out like her mother. Only the devil could cast one look and break open the vault where those emotions were kept and bring them racing to the surface until everything else faded into the background.

“I’m going out to the garden.” She needed more than one room’s distance between her and Caleb, and the temptation roiling between them.





Chapter Ten

Once Caleb finished eating Freedom’s tasty beef stew, he set the empty dish outside on the porch and made his way down to the corral. As usual, he’d taken his supper alone, avoiding the boisterous mix of hands and Rachel’s family that surrounded the supper table each evening. Only, this time, his avoidance had nothing to do with wanting to dodge potential questions about who he was and where he’d come from, and everything to do with trying to forget his foolhardiness of this afternoon.

What had he been thinking, egging Rachel on like that, prodding her to acknowledge the strange chemistry sizzling between them whenever they were in the same room? He’d made a promise to himself to leave it be, ignore it. Ignore her. A promise he conveniently forgot the moment he turned around and saw her standing in the newly built room, shoulders squared like a seasoned general and hands gripped together at her small waist like a green soldier. One look, and every promise he’d made fled for the hills, sent packing by the desire that rushed through his body and left no room for anything else.

He couldn’t stop himself from touching her. Or from wishing there had been more. Especially once she’d started talking about taking care of her needs. He was pretty sure she hadn’t meant it exactly the way it came out, if the crimson stain on her cheeks had been any indication, and Lord knows she’d backed out of there fast enough when he suggested taking her up on that offer.

He puffed out a breath and leaned against the railing of the corral. He was in way over his head on this one.

“C’mere, boy,” he called to Jasper. The horse stopped nibbling at the grass, nickered, and then ambled over to where Caleb stood. He gathered a section of the horse’s mane and gently led him back to the stables. His questionable behavior dogged his every step.