The two men conferred a moment and Jake headed off toward the barn. Holt turned her way, and Hannah turned back to the pasture quickly for a final look at Gladys before heading on to work. The bison did seem happy here, although perhaps a little lonely.
"I'd like a word with you."
Hannah jumped when Holt spoke up right behind her. Would she get another lecture about the uselessness of bison? Or would he attack her from a different angle today? Holt had never liked her.
"Isn't she pretty?" She jutted her chin at Gladys.
"She looks pretty tasty." Holt pushed his hat to a better position on his forehead. "I've always loved bison meat." He had the slow drawl of a Montana rancher which only increased her irritation at his words.
"She's not for eating; she's a pet. She was raised by hand."
"I don't see how that figures into it."
"Holt … "
"Now don't get your feathers all in a ruffle, hear me out." Holt still stood as straight as he ever had. Only a stiffness in the way he walked betrayed the fact that his years were beginning to wear on him. All the days he'd spent working outside in the sun had tanned his skin and deepened the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but he was still a handsome man in a tough, no-nonsense way. She knew Jake, Ned and Luke did most of the physical labor around here, but Holt still thought of himself as the ruler of this roost, and when he said jump, everyone around him asked, "How high?"
She was not one of those people. She'd be polite because she was polite to everyone, but she wouldn't allow Holt to boss her around.
"Go ahead," she said coolly.
"I have something you want. A long-term pasture for that beast of yours."
Hannah raised an eyebrow. He was right; she did want that, but she knew Holt never did a favor when he could extract a payment. She wondered where this was going.
"I'll let you keep your bison on this ranch for the rest of its natural life if you'll do one thing for me."
He had Hannah's full attention. A place for Gladys forever? She'd been searching far and wide for a suitable home for the animal, but no one within a hundred miles had a place for her. There were a few ranches far to the west who might take her, but the cost was high and she'd rarely get to see the bison, and … well … she'd gotten a bit attached to her.
Okay, a lot attached.
"What would I have to do?" Holt's weathered face was angular, his eyes bright with intelligence and cunning. She wasn't sure she could trust him, but his offer intrigued her.
"Sleep with my son for two weeks."
Hannah's jaw dropped open. Her cheeks flushed to what she was sure was a brilliant red. Had Holt lost his mind? Had she? He couldn't have said that out loud.
Could he?
"You heard me right, but you can get your mind out of the gutter." Holt's laconic tone was shaded with a hint of laughter at her expense. "I said sleep with him, not screw him. What you two get up to is on your conscience. All I ask is that you share a bed."
"I … what … ?" She glanced around wildly, wondering if anyone else had overheard him. Surely this had to be a joke. Would Holt's youngest son, Rob, come rushing out with a video camera? He was always playing practical jokes.
"Sleep with my son for fourteen consecutive nights. All night. That's it. Your bison gets a pasture, food, and shelter for the rest of her life. What do you say?"
She sputtered, searching for something to say that encompassed the depth of her anger that he'd even speak to her this way. She settled on sarcasm. "Two weeks? I'll have to check my calendar. Some other guy's father might have extorted me to sleep with him one of those nights."
Holt chuckled. "Just how many bison do you have stashed around the ranches in these parts?"
"I don't need to listen to this."
"By the way, the son in question is Jake." He eyed her sharply and Hannah felt the heat creep up her cheeks all over again.
Jake?
An image of them together in bed-naked, disheveled-flashed into her mind and her body tingled with the idea of it. She and Jake could have a lot of fun between the sheets.
She forced the thought out of her head. "Not interested."
"Then I guess I'll get my pasture back sooner than I thought. And I'll have to find some other woman to get my son's mind on marriage."
"Damn it, Holt-that's not fair."
"Which part isn't? The part where I eat your bison or the part where another woman sleeps with my son?"
Hannah fought mightily against the urge to slug him. "Even if I did this-which I won't," she assured him, "how would you know? Are you going to bug his bedroom?"
"Nah," Holt said. "You'll report to me every morning, look me in the eye and tell me if you slept with him or not." Her eyes widened and Holt guffawed. "No way a girl with your color hair can tell a lie. Your face gives you away every time."
He was right, damn it. The pale, pale complexion that went with her white-blond hair meant that every flush showed like her face had been slapped. She made it a point not to lie because like Holt said, she couldn't get away with it. If she faced this man after a night with his son she'd be scarlet.
Like she was right now.
"How would I even get him to agree to it?" she asked, even though the question was ludicrous. She was not sleeping with Jake, no matter what the reward. Not on his father's say-so. She turned back to Gladys, mostly to get away from Holt's sardonic grin.
"Reckon that's your problem. You're a clever girl, you'll think of something."
"What do you get out of it?" Why was she even having this conversation? Because she was as crazy as Holt? Because she was worried about Gladys?
Because she wanted to sleep with Jake?
Did she ever. How many times in the last few weeks had she dreamed of unbuttoning one of Jake's work shirts and smoothing her hands over his hard chest? How many times had she dreamed of unbuttoning her own shirt and pressing up against him, feeling her skin on his? Ever since the wedding, Jake had been on her mind. More than she cared to admit.
"I get to remind my son he's a man," Holt said. "Seems like he's forgotten that. No sense passing on control of the ranch to him if he doesn't intend to get an heir."
"He's not getting an heir with me," Hannah snapped, stepping away from him. "I don't plan to have children anytime soon."
"No one asked you to. You just need to prime the pump, so to speak."
"I'm not having sex with him, either."
"Like I said, what you get up to is your call. No man can spend two weeks in bed with a pretty woman without getting a notion or two. I suspect that's all it'll take to get him thinking about the benefits of settling down."
Hannah shook her head, the wooden railing under her hand splintery and cold in the November morning. "I didn't say I'd do it."
Holt smiled. "You didn't walk away, either."
"You fix that leak yet?" Holt asked.
When his father walked into the living room, Jake set his beer down carefully on the small end table and leaned back on the comfortable couch before the fire. He generally stayed for a drink after eating dinner at the main house with his parents and his brothers, Ned and Luke. His third brother, Rob, and Rob's wife, Morgan, had just moved back onto the ranch until they built a permanent home, but they tended to eat in their own cabin, so he didn't see them as much. When the meal was over, in good weather he'd sit out on the front porch and let his gaze wander over the land his family owned. In the winter he found a place in front of the fire in their formal living room. His brothers had already returned to their cabins, but Jake lingered. In a short time he'd head over to Ethan and Autumn's poker night. Meanwhile he wanted to plan his strategy to convince Hannah to marry him in the next thirty days.
"Yes."
"You sure you got it at the source? The water will find another way in if … "
"Dad, I got it," Jake cut him off.
Holt eased himself onto the other end of the couch. "Don't you forget who made this ranch what it is today."
Jake knew exactly who had made this ranch what it was. His father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, stretching back up the line of Mathesons for over a hundred and fifty years. That made him prouder than he could say about taking his place on the ranch. But along with being excellent cattlemen, Mathesons were also known for being hardheaded. Holt certainly was. "I'm supposed to be managing the herd. That's my responsibility. I've got to be able to do things my way."