Sweet Nothings by Catherine Anderson
He listened. “You think the ones with shrill voices are lady frogs?”
Resisting the urge to laugh, she cocked her head to listen. “Maybe.”
“Could be the fellas are whispering sweet nothings in their ears, and that’s a lady frog’s way of tittering.”
She giggled. She couldn’t help herself. “Sweet nothings? That croaking doesn’t sound very romantic to me.”
“Maybe it all depends on who’s talking and who’s listening.”
Molly sighed and hugged her parka closer. He glanced down. “You cold, honey?”
“Only a little.”
He startled her by slipping an arm around her waist. “I’ve got plenty of heat to share.”
He did, at that. The warmth radiating from his big body curled around her. Molly’s pulse accelerated. Try as she might, she couldn’t relax against him. He was too—everything—too big, too strong, too handsome, too charming. From the first, he’d sparked her imagination and made her want things she had no business wanting.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Nothing, really.”
He glanced down at her, his eyes glistening in the moonlight. “Nothing, Molly? Or just nothing you want to share with me?”
She drew away from him and cupped a hand over her mouth, pretending to yawn. “Excuse me. I must be more exhausted than I realized. Do you mind if we head for the cabin now?”
He smiled slightly, his indulgent expression conveying that he saw right through her. “Not at all.” He grasped her elbow to guide her up the bank. “Watch your step going over these rocks.”
Molly was about to say she could see just fine when she caught her toe and stumbled. He stopped her from falling with an arm around her waist, his big hand splayed over her midriff. Her breath trapped at the base of her throat, and she jerked her head up to look at him. He slowly drew his arm from around her, his expression, concealed by the shadow of his hat, unreadable.
Unsettled by his touch, which had come perilously close to the underside of her breast, Molly gathered her composure and struck off again, acutely aware of his grasp on her arm. Her hip occasionally bumped against his thigh as she hurried along.
“You racing to put out a fire?” he asked.
They reached the front porch of the cabin just then, saving her the need to reply. She pulled away from him and moved hastily up the steps. At the top, she turned, thinking to thank him for walking her home. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she found him standing right behind her.
“Oh!” She pressed a hand over her heart. “You startled me.”
He chuckled. “It doesn’t take much. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I make you uneasy.”
“Don’t be silly, Mr. Coulter. Why would you make me uneasy?”
“The name is Jake.”
“I know what your given name is.”
“Then why won’t you use it?”
“You’re my employer.”
His dark face creased in another grin, the lines that lashed his lean cheeks looking as black as ink in the eerie light. The smell of leather, hay, and man surrounded her. She shivered and rubbed her arms.
“My other employees call me Jake.”
“That’s their choice. I prefer to keep things more businesslike.”
“Because it makes you feel safe?”
Molly couldn’t think what to say, which elicited another smile from him. “No question about it, I definitely make you uneasy.” He ran his gaze slowly over her face as though searching for answers in her expression. Molly could only hope he found none. “Why is that, Molly?”
She moistened her lips and swallowed. “I’m not sure. Post-divorce jitters, I guess.”
He toed a board of the porch, then settled his hands at his hips. “Was Rodney ornery with you?”
She just stared at him.
“Behind closed doors, I mean.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “Is that why I make you nervous, because you never knew what to expect from him?”
“Rodney was never physically abusive to me. As for why you make me nervous, it has nothing at all to do with that. I don’t even think of you that way.”
He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, his mouth tipping into a thoughtful grin. “You don’t, huh?”
“No, of course not.”
He lightened the graze of his thumb, treating her to a soft caress that set her lip to tingling. “Maybe you’d better start,” he said huskily.
Speechless, Molly gazed after him as he loped down the steps and struck off into the darkness. Her night vision being what it was, he was a shadow one moment, then gone the next.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes and chafed her arms again, feeling cold in a way that went deeper than the flesh. The night wind gusted in under the porch overhang, its whisper seeming to say, “Molly… Molly…” She curled an arm around the support beam at the top of the steps and pressed her forehead against the wood. “Molly… where are you?” She shuddered and clenched her teeth. Maybe Rodney had been right all along, and she was crazy. Normal people didn’t hear voices in the wind.
She pressed closer to the beam, needing the support and finding comfort in the solidness. It made her think of Jake, of how sturdy his big, lean body felt when he drew her against him. A tight, suffocating feeling welled in her throat. She wrapped both arms around the log and clung to it, wishing with all her heart it could hug her back.
Chapter Eleven
“Is any of that rice and eggs that Molly made for the dog left over?”
His mouth filled with crackers, Jake whipped around to locate his brother in the gloom. It was four o’clock in the morning, and he hadn’t expected anyone to be up and about yet. They usually got off to a slow start Monday morning. The hired hands were never completely recovered from their Saturday night festivities, and he and Hank were usually exhausted after doing all the work themselves over the weekend.
“What are you doing up so early?” Jake asked. “I figured you’d sleep in.”
Padding on bare feet, his brother came into view, his dark hair rumpled, his chest bare. His jeans were zipped, but he’d left them unbuttoned. “Who slept? Supper last night was deserving of Levi’s cowboy blessing.”
Jake hated to bite on that one. “What’s Levi’s cowboy blessing?”
“ ‘Three beans for four of us, thank God there ain’t no more of us.’ ”
Jake chuckled. “It wasn’t that skimpy.”
“Pretty skimpy. If God had meant peppers to be stuffed, He’d have made them that way. And what the hell kind of soup was that she fixed?”
“Minestrone.”
“It was so thin, I could’ve drunk it with a straw. I’m starving. I tossed and turned all night.”
Jake shoved the jar of peanut butter along the counter so his brother could help himself. “She’s trying. Did you notice Bart last night? Yesterday afternoon she gave him a bath and doused him with aftershave. He smelled so pretty I damned near kissed him.”
Hank chuckled. “I happened by the house while she was bathing him. The bathroom looked like a hurricane had struck, and she was wet from head to toe.”
“She sure is a sweetheart.”
“No argument there,” Hank agreed. “But her being sweet doesn’t put food in our bellies, Jake. You have to talk to her. In all your life, I’ve never known you to pull your verbal punches.” He grabbed the table knife and piled peanut butter onto a cracker. After popping it into his mouth and chewing a couple of times, he swallowed and said, “Now, suddenly, you’re Mr. Tact. You’ve picked a hell of a time to become a diplomat.”
“It’s not easy, learning to cook for so many. She’ll get the hang of it soon.”
His expression thoughtful, Hank popped another cracker into his mouth. “You really like her a lot, don’t you?”
Jake considered the question. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Are you getting serious?”
Again Jake took a momen
“The carob-coated raisins were a surprise, all right.”
Jake sighed. “It’s the thought that counts. She wants us to eat healthy. You can’t fault her for that.”
“I’m not faulting her. I’m just hungry.” Hank grabbed another cracker. “Hot cereal and fruit for breakfast just doesn’t cut it.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Is that why you haven’t turned on the lights, because you’re afraid she might see and realize you’re up, raiding the kitchen?”
“I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Being a little hungry for a few more days won’t kill us.”
Hank shoved another cracker in his mouth. “Speak for yourself. I wonder where she’s from?”
“My guess is she’s from Portland.”
“Portland?” Hank had been up that way a few months ago. “Oh, man, I hope she doesn’t serve us any of that field-green salad shit.”
“What is field-green salad?”
“Just like it sounds, greens out of a field. Dandelion leaves and stuff.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It’s all the rage in the nice restaurants up there. City people. There’s just no figuring ‘em.” Hank shuddered and shook his head. “They charged me eight bucks for that crap. I’m telling you, we could make a fortune. Just turn them out to graze and charge by the head.”
“Eight bucks for field greens?”
“Everything on the menu cost separately.”
“À la carte,” Jake inserted.
“À la highway robbery, more like. My supper cost me over thirty dollars, and all I got was a tiny piece of prime rib and a bunch of what cows eat. No bread, no spuds. I damned near starved to death.”
Jake chuckled. “Now you’re sounding like Danno.”
The back door opened just then, and both men gave a guilty start, afraid the new arrival might be Molly. Instead, Levi poked his head in. “Howdy.” He stepped over the threshold and softly closed the door. “What’re we havin’ here, a convention?”
Jake sighed and shoved the jar of peanut butter along the counter to his hired hand. “We’re just filling our empty spots, Levi. If that’s why you’re up early, help yourself.”
Later that morning, Jake gathered his men in the stable to line them out for the coming week. Usually they sat around the kitchen table on Monday morning, and he assigned each man his chores over coffee, but he’d been anxious to get them out of the house today. Judging by their disgruntled expressions, their time off hadn’t sweetened their dispositions any. Jake feared they were about to mutiny, and he didn’t want Molly to see the fireworks.
“What the hell were those things she fed us for breakfast?” the gangly, ever-hungry Danno asked.
“Crěpes,” Hank supplied. “Fancy French pancakes.”
“The French can have ‘em.”
Jake sighed, took off his hat to stare blankly at the inside of the crown, and then returned it to his head. “Gentlemen, let’s all practice a little patience. That was a real pretty breakfast she served. Just think how hard she worked, cutting all those strawberries into flower shapes.”
“Those pancakes were so thin, you could read the newspaper through them, and each of us only got four.” Preach, the quiet one of the bunch, scowled at his boss. “I’m so hungry, I could eat frogs while they’re still hopping. Pretty doesn’t fill a man’s gut.”
Nate, a nice-looking twenty-five-year-old with a winning smile and a penchant for teasing, laughed and inserted, “If pretty filled a man’s gut, Preach, we’d just toss Molly on the table and forget about food.”
Just that fast and Jake was mad. He fixed Nate with a glare. “Any man who lays a finger on the lady will answer to me. Is that understood?”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “I guess that’s plain enough.”
“You keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to her, and do it with your goddamned hat in your hand.”
Hank touched his brother’s sleeve. “Hey, Jake, he was just joking.”
Jake shook his arm free. “There are lines we don’t cross on this spread, and that’s one of them. She’s a lady, not some Saturday-night bar floozy, and she’ll be treated with respect by every last one of you, or I’ll know the reason why.”
Nate’s brows arched higher. “Kinda touchy this morning, aren’t we, boss? I’d never get out of line with a lady, and you know it.”
“Make damned sure you don’t.”
Even as the anger roiled within him, Jake knew he was overreacting. Nate’s remark had been a little off-color, but he’d meant no real harm. He took a deep, calming breath, wondered what the hell was wrong with him, and tried to soften his expression. “Molly is pretty, and we wouldn’t be men if we failed to notice that.” He scanned the group, offering no quarter with his gaze. “Just mind your manners when you’re around her, and you’ll have no problem with me.”
All the men nodded.
Jake grabbed his clipboard, gave his notes a quick scan, and began assigning the men their jobs for the week. When the last hired hand had sauntered away, Hank gave him a pointed look and said, “Pardon me for pointing it out, but no matter how much you like Molly, you did hire her to do a job. If she’s not cutting the mustard, you either have to get her straightened out or can her ass. The men have to eat.”
Jake bit down hard on his back teeth. “I’ll handle it.”
“When? We’re all starving.”
“You won’t waste away.”
“Maybe not, but my work has been off, and it will be again today. After a breakfast of see-through pancakes, you can bet she packed us piddly-ass lunches again, only two sandwiches each, and those with fat-free mayo.” Hank made a face. “Where does she buy all that whole wheat crap? Those chips taste like sawdust.”
“I think she gets them at a health food store.”
“Well, I hate them. We all do. Even Bart won’t eat ‘em.”
“I said I’ll handle it.”
Jake heard the front door of the house open and close just then. He leaned around to look out the stable doorway and saw Molly coming down the front steps. Once she gained the ground, she fetched a huge, gnarled limb she’d evidently left leaning against the porch. As she cut across the yard toward the creek, Jake gazed curiously after her.
“Great,” Hank whispered. “See-through pancakes for breakfast, and now she’s taking a morning stroll. If she’s going out to pick field greens, I quit.”
“You can’t quit. You’re part owner.”
“I haven’t kicked in any money. All I’ll be out is sweat.”
Jake sighed, his gaze still fixed on their cook. Dressed in baggy jeans and a loose, white cotton blouse, she looked adorable in spite of herself. She tiptoed daintily over some stones to get across the stream, then set off toward the woods, swinging the tree limb at the brush as if it was her aim to flatten it.
“What the hell is she doing?” Hank asked.
Jake watched Molly for another few seconds. “I have no idea.”
“Whatever she’s doing, she’s going at it like she’s killing snakes.”
Snakes? Jake remembered the conversation they’d had about rattlers that first day. He groaned. “Oh, damn.“
“What?” Hank glanced back at him.
“I think she’s beating the brush for rattlers.”
“What?” Hank stepped to the doorway to get a better look. His shoulders jerked with laughter. “Who in God’s name told her to do that?”
“I did.”
“You’re j
“I didn’t mean for her to do it that way.” Jake watched Molly whack a sage bush. He chuckled and shook his head. “But I did tell her to beat the brush.” He observed her a second longer. “Well, hell. After putting the rope in front of the wood box, I kind of hoped the snake issue was put to rest.”
“You put a rope in front of her wood box? What for?”
“As a snake deterrent.”
Hank narrowed an eye. “That’s an old wives’ tale. It doesn’t work.”
“I know that, and you know that, but she doesn’t. It eased her mind, mission accomplished.”
Hank resumed watching Molly. His dark face creased in a mischievous grin. “You reckon we’ll have any brush left when she’s done?”
Jake slapped his brother’s gut with the clipboard. Hank’s breath rushed from his chest as he grabbed hold of the notes. “Where you going?”
Never breaking stride, Jake called back, “To show her how to beat the brush and have a talk with her about her cooking.”
“Tell her we like spuds, and lots of ‘em!” Hank yelled after him.
Jake groaned and nodded. This was one chore he was not looking forward to. Just as he reached the creek, he heard Hank holler, “Homemade biscuits, too!”
Sunlight streamed through the boughs of the ponderosa pines, the shafts of light filled with motes that shimmered like pearl dust in the morning glow. The vanilla scent of tree bark, the musk of sage, and the moldiness of the forest floor, carpeted with countless layers of decaying needles, filled Molly’s nostrils. She hauled in a deep breath, thinking how absolutely glorious the morning was and how blessed she was to have a moment to enjoy it.
As she moved deeper into the woods, she felt as if she’d stepped off into a fairy tale or traveled back through time to the pioneer days. Indulging in a rare moment of fancy, she recalled the countless Indian romances she’d read during her first and only year of college. This was just the sort of setting she’d always imagined when she read about a beautiful, fair-skinned heroine coming face-to-face with a dark and dangerous half-breed warrior.