Galahad in Blue Jeans Page 5

  “I doubt that,” Matt remarked dryly.

  “At one rest stop, when I drove through the parking lot, I noticed a Colorado license tag. I spotted the car again on the highway where there had been a wreck and traffic was backed up. When everyone started up again, Mary Catherine began crying about something pinching her, so I had to pull over. In all the traffic, the car had to pass me and I noticed the same tag. Then I paid closer attention to the car. Later, I think I saw it in the rearview mirror. It may have been my imagination or coincidence. Whether it was or was not, I thought I could take a state road from I-70 to I-35 and possibly lose the person if someone was following. I know that my ex will find out where I am eventually, but I was annoyed at the thought of being followed.”

  While she talked, she was aware of Matt Whitewolf. His muscles flexed as he shifted in the chair and his white T-shirt pulled tautly across his back and shoulders. He was appealing, filled with vitality. He tugged off his boot and set it on the floor. He leaned forward to pull off the other boot and there was something so casual and intimate in the moment—as if he was starting to undress—that her pulse fluttered.

  He leaned back in the rocker and his brown eyes met hers. “Mind if I put my feet on the bed?”

  “Of course not! It’s your bed. You can do anything you want.”

  “Anything?” he drawled in a teasing, sensual voice, and she was both startled and more fluttery than before. Was he actually flirting with her?

  “What did you have in mind?” The instant the words were out she couldn’t believe she had asked him that in return—and worse, in a teasing drawl. “Never mind!” she snapped swiftly, blushing. “I can’t believe I said that to you.”

  “Why not?” he asked, amusement lighting his dark eyes. “You should be able to joke with me, flirt a little. It’s harmless.”

  “I don’t think anything with you will be harmless,” she said breathlessly, her cheeks turning pink. “There I go again,” she said, waving her hand and wondering what it was about him that brought out this carefree, flirty response in her. Something she couldn’t recall doing with any man in too many years to remember.

  “Don’t stop, Vivian. A little flirting is harmless.”

  “I suppose.” She looked at him intently. “Is there someone—a woman? Am I keeping you from a date tonight or anything?”

  “You’re keeping me from sitting home alone on a hot, stormy night.”

  “You get lonesome? I figured you like it this way.”

  “I do like it this way and I do get lonesome sometimes. Most of the time, I’m happy to be out here by myself.”

  “I can’t imagine. I can’t even remember spending a night home alone since I had Mary Catherine.”

  Glancing around his room, Vivian gathered from what Meg Preston had said that Matt was a solitary person, never really opening himself up to others. His room was masculine, looking as if it belonged to a man who liked the outdoors and liked animals.

  When his dark gaze studied her, she was acutely conscious of him and aware of herself as a woman. This bond she had with him was ridiculous, yet the tie existed and was strong. Was it because he had been with her through childbirth? She didn’t want to have such an intense reaction to a man she would say goodbye to tomorrow or the next day, but for the moment, it was nice to be with him and even the brief flirting was fun.

  “I almost forgot to tell you—I called the dealership in Enid and they will be out to tow your car in as soon as they can get through.”

  “Thank you, but shouldn’t you call a mechanic instead of the dealership?”

  “This dealership has the best mechanics around here. You can stay here until it’s fixed.”

  “I don’t want to cause you trouble. We’re strangers.”

  “You’re not strangers now,” he remarked. “You stay here. I have plenty of room and help and there’s no reason for you not to.”

  Once again, she collided with his forceful personality. He spoke with a finality that made her certain he didn’t expect to be questioned, yet every time he did so, she bristled because of old battles in her past. Each time, she reminded herself how different this man was from the one she had left behind and how caring Matt had been today.

  They talked about horses and his farm and wheat harvest, her future plans and anecdotes about Mary Catherine until exhaustion crept over her. Yet she hated to tell Matt. She liked being with him too much.

  Julia stirred and began to cry. Matt stood and leaned over the bed to pick her up. “Hey, sweet baby,” he said in a gentle, deep voice, and Vivian’s heart lurched at the tenderness and the expression on his face that transformed his rugged features when he smiled at her tiny baby.

  “She doesn’t seem happy,” he said, handing the crying baby to Vivian, who pushed away the sheet and swung her long legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll check on Mary Catherine,” he said, his gaze sweeping over Vivian’s legs as she stood up.

  “You feel like getting up?” he asked, taking her arm in a gentle grip.

  “I want very much to get up,” she said, smiling at him.

  Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and Vivian felt that swift change that happened without warning. His dark eyes seemed to wrap an invisible cloak around her and hold her. Julia was crying and Vivian shifted her closer and patted her back. All the while her pulse was racing wildly and she was too aware of the tall cowboy standing so close to her—she could feel the heat from his body and smell the male scent of aftershave and soap.

  “Meg Preston came with diapers and Dr. Bently brought me all sorts of supplies.”

  “Meg’s like the Boy Scouts—always prepared. If you want me, holler,” Matt said, and picked up his boots to move them across the room. Then he went down the hall. Vivian jiggled Julia slightly and continued patting the baby’s back while she stared after Matt. She was going to hate telling him goodbye.

  She changed and fed Julia and was rocking her when Matt returned.

  He rapped lightly at the door and pushed it open when she called to him.

  Matt crossed the room and flipped the covers up over his bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and crossing his long legs. “Tell me when you want to trade places.”

  Vivian watched him, feeling a strange heat ignite inside as she looked at his long frame in the bed. Pillows were propped behind him. He looked sexy, handsome, marvelously fit As she gazed back at him, his brows arched and his eyes darkened, focusing on her with that intentness that made her feel he could see every thought she had.

  “Do you have family around here?” Vivian asked. A shuttered look crossed Matt’s features and she regretted her question instantly. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “It’s common knowledge around these parts. My mother’s deceased. She abused drugs and alcohol. There were always men. My father was an alcoholic, abusive, a real loser. Thank goodness he didn’t last long in our lives. Then I had a string of stepfathers—all common-law husbands. The good thing—I have two younger half brothers—I was the oldest child. I ran away when I was sixteen. My half brothers and my Kiowa grandparents are my family.”

  “Where do your relatives live?” she asked, hearing the bitter note in his voice and wondering what scars he carried from childhood.

  “Jared is a rancher and has a place just outside of Tulsa and Wyatt is a cop in Oklahoma City. My grandparents live south of Oklahoma City, down near Lawton.”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t married and have a family of your own just to make up for what you didn’t have,” she said, studying him. His dark brows arched, and he shrugged.

  “Nope. I’ve never gotten too close to anyone else. I don’t think I know how.”

  She couldn’t keep from smiling. “You got pretty close to us today, I’d say.”

  One dark brow arched higher. “Yeah, Vivian, you sor of slipped past my defenses.”

  “You keep defenses against the world?” she asked, teas ing him.

  “
Don’t we all?” he asked, watching her, and the light ness left her.

  “I suppose so,” she said, thinking of the hell she wen through over a year ago, watching her marriage dissolve and her dreams shatter.

  An alarm began to ping and he glanced at his watch. turning off the alarm and swinging his legs off the bed “Casserole is done. I’ll bring your supper—”

  “Oh, no! I can come to the kitchen and Julia is asleep Mary Catherine must be worn out. She doesn’t usually sleep like this.”

  Placing the baby on the bed, Vivian turned and stood carefully, suddenly blinking. Matt looked afraid she might faint and he instantly stepped to her side to steady her. Her head came up, and she became aware of his hand on her hip. Suddenly, he leaned forward and brushed her cheek lightly with a kiss.

  “Careful,” he cautioned, and inhaled. He turned away

  Vivian touched her cheek lightly where his lips had brushed against her. Matt Whitewolf. He was completely foreign to her world and men she had known. A cowboy A rugged, solitary individual. Yet he had been salvation tc her today. And maybe that was what tinged her feelings about him and made him seem special. Yet by next week he would be nothing more than a memory. How long would that memory linger with her? she wondered.

  Vivian picked up a sleeping Julia and left the room to find Mary Catherine still curled into a ball in the next bedroom. She glanced around the room that held a bed, chest and little else and wondered why he lived in such a large house when he was alone. Had he owned the land a long time? The house didn’t appear to be an older farmhouse.

  She went down the hall toward the kitchen, hearing him clattering dishes and moving around. Through open doors the hall light spilled partially into the rooms that opened off the hallway. One was empty and one had lights on and a bed with a stack of clean clothes tossed on it and she decided this was the room he had moved into. The house was sprawling, half-empty, and far away from the nearest neighbor. She wondered how he stood the isolation. Wasn’t there really a woman in his life? She couldn’t imagine there wasn’t.

  When she entered the kitchen, she looked at a hastily set table and the tall cowboy getting something out of a builtin oven. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “Have a seat. A big glass of milk—right?”

  “Yes,” she answered, watching him pour large glasses of milk for both of them. Her gaze ran swiftly over his lean frame and she wondered if he often drank so much milk. He had broad, powerful shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and slim hips, and Vivian assumed he simply burned the calories away.

  He placed the steaming casserole on a hot pad between them, and near the golden casserole, he set down a loaf of dark bread that looked home-baked. With a scrape of his chair he sat across from her. “Now, help yourself. Want me to hold the baby?”

  “I’m fine with her. I can’t believe I’m hungry again. I haven’t been able to eat for so long.”

  “Because of your pregnancy?”

  “Because of my disastrous marriage. I hadn’t stopped to think about it, but since being here, I feel safe. I don’t have to worry about Baker because there is no way he can find me here.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t afraid—”

  “I’m not afraid that he’ll become violent, but he upsets me and he worries me when he’s around Mary Catherine.” She served her plate and passed the spoon to him and their fingers brushed. Every contact with him was noticeable. As he served himself, she watched his large, competent hands. Hands that she knew could be both strong and gentle.

  “I guess that I’m just relieved. Maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe it’s childbirth, but I don’t think so. I didn’t have this famished feeling after Mary Catherine was born.”

  “Well, I have a freezer filled with casseroles, so you can just eat all night.”

  She smiled at him and saw a flicker in his dark eyes. He was raising his fork to his mouth, but lowered it, placing it on his plate while he reached out with his other hand to touch the corner of her mouth lightly. “That’s nice. You have a smile that would light up any darkness.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling a rush of warmth. “I think you’re giving me more credit there than I deserve. We can’t test your statement, because we’re not in any darkness,” she added playfully, wondering what kind of effect the man was having on her to make her bubbly and trusting and lighthearted. Or—again—was it euphoria from childbirth?

  “Vivian, there’s a darkness here, and you do light it up,” he said solemnly, and her heart turned over.

  “Darkness—in you? I don’t think so.” Her appetite was gone as swiftly as it had come, the supper forgotten as she looked into Matt’s brown eyes.

  “It’s there. I know what I live with. I’m keeping you from eating,” he said, his voice becoming lighter. “Eat your dinner. First thing you know Julia will be calling you or Mary Catherine will need you and you won’t have a chance to eat.”

  “You’re right,” she answered, dropping the topic yet wondering about him. Was it his past that was the dark shadow in his life? When he had talked about his parents, he had sounded defensive and angry, but he lost that tone when he talked about his half brothers. She took a bite of the casserole, tasting tomatoes and corn and beef beneath the layer of golden cheese. “This is delicious.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and she looked beyond him and saw Mary Catherine coming with her blanket in tow. She looked tousled, sleepy and worried. She glanced at Matt Whitewolf, put her thumb in her mouth and gave him a wide berth as she passed him to go to Vivian.

  Vivian wrapped an arm around Mary Catherine, who snuggled against her.

  Matt stood and came around the table. “Let me hold Julia so you can eat.”

  Vivian handed him the baby, feeling his warm hands brush against her. As he moved away, Vivian looked down at Mary Catherine. “Hungry?”

  Mary Catherine gave a negative shake of her head, so Vivian continued eating. “You raise anything besides wheat here?”

  “Wheat and cattle. Mostly wheat. We’ve already had harvest this year. It was a good year.”

  “Have you lived here long?”

  “I bought the place about eight years ago and built the house three years ago.”

  “You built a big house.”

  “I’m a big man. I wanted room.”

  “Then you must be planning on a big family,” she said in spite of his earlier denial of being able to have a close relationship with someone.

  He looked startled. “No. I won’t ever marry.”

  Surprised, she stared at him. His statement was given in a matter-of-fact voice as if there was no possibility of him doing anything else.

  “You don’t like women?”

  He grinned and she was amazed at the transformation of his features, softening the rugged look with creases deepening in his cheeks and a twinkle coming to his eyes.

  “I like women, Vivian,” he said in a sensual, warm voice that left no doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth now. At the same time, a tingle stirred in her, that sexy awareness that he could zap to life so easily with her.

  “Then what makes you certain you won’t ever marry?”

  The grin and twinkle vanished. “I’m not the marrying type,” he said with a shrug. “I told you about my background. Who would want to load that on someone else?”

  “Maybe that’s for the someone else to decide. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Not much. I know what I grew up with. At best, marriage is fraught with enough uncertainty. You should agree with that.”

  “Yes, I’ll agree.”

  “I might be rotten at a deep relationship. I’ve never experienced one.”

  “You take your chances. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.”

  Mary Catherine stirred and motioned to the plate of food. Vivian picked up a spoon and fed her a bite.

  “I can fix her a plate,” Matt offered.

  Mary Catherine buried her face
against Vivian and clung to her as if he had threatened something dire. Vivian stroked her head, looking at him and shrugging. “She can eat from my plate. Thanks.”

  They ate in silence for a few moments until Vivian took a sip of milk and then set it down, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “I wish you would take your room and let me stay in one of the other ones.”

  “You’re all settled there and I don’t have much I need to get. I lead a simple life. Socks, shirts, jeans, boots—I’m set.”

  “Sure,” she said, smiling at him and he smiled in return. “How many bedrooms do you have?”

  “Four.”

  “That’s really large for a man who leads a simple life and intends to live all alone forever.”

  “I guess the house and farm are security to me. What I never had.”

  She looked beyond him at the darkened windows. “I think you would be lonesome all the time.”

  She was surprised by another grin. “No, city lady, most of the time I don’t get lonesome. I like the peace and quiet and being off by myself.”

  “You probably can’t wait for us to pack and go!”

  “Nope. You’re not intrusive, and I’ll leave before dawn in the morning. There are some wide-open spaces here where a man can easily get all the solitude he wants.”

  Julia began to stir and cry, and Matt came to his feet to place the baby in her arms. “I’ll give you privacy if you want to feed her. Here’s your mommy, little one,” he said softly. He leaned closer to Vivian. “Don’t you touch any dishes. I’m the speediest kitchen cleaner east of the Pecos. I’m going out to feed my horses,” he said, crossing the kitchen and grabbing his hat as he went. He closed the door and was gone.

  “Yes, sir!” she replied softly, still half-annoyed and half-amused by his authoritative manner. Yet she was becoming more accustomed to it and knew instinctively that he would never order her to do something that would be hurtful.

  Vivian wondered about him and the solitary life he led. As she shifted Julia closer, she thought about all he had told her.

  “I won’t ever marry. At best, marriage is fraught with enough uncertainty.”