Read Online Fire and Rain by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Lowell
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beef, browned potatoes and gravy on his plate.
He glanced up as Carla put a bowl of crisp, fresh green beans next to his plate. With difficulty he forced himself to watch his dinner instead of Carla. She was more beautiful to him each time he looked at her. The thought that he had driven her into the arms of some college boy had tormented Luke. His days had become longer and longer, but even half-dead from overwork, he had only to look at Carla to feel hot claws of desire sinking into him.
Finally Luke's thoughts had driven him to stay away from the ranch house entirely. He had spent five days roaming the Rocking M, sleeping out, waking with his whole body hot, clenched, burning with passion. During the day he had chased his thoughts as though they were cloud shadows flying over the face of the land.
At the end of five days, Luke still hadn't decided which was worse, the thought that Carla had had another man, or the realization that her virginity would no longer be a barrier holding them apart. They wanted each other. They were both of age. They could take each other, work the passion out of their systems, and then they could go on with life the only way that made any sense.
Separately.
She came here to cure herself of me. Why the hell hold back? Why not take what we both want so bad that we can't look at each other without shaking?
"Thanks," Luke said to Carla, his voice harsher than he had meant it to be.
Carla's smile was soft and hesitant, for Luke's expression was forbidding. He had been out on the range for the past five days; even before that he had been distant. Ever since he and Ten had argued almost four weeks ago. If they had argued. Ten had refused to talk about it. In any case, there certainly seemed to be no anger between the two men now.
For a few unguarded moments, Carla's luminous blue-green eyes watched Luke with transparent hunger, measuring the changes five days had made. His beard stubble had become a thick darkness from cheek to jaw, making his rare smiles flash by comparison. He looked tired, drawn, as though he had been sleeping as badly as she had.
Forcing herself not to linger at the table with Luke, Carla went back to the kitchen. She had already done the dinner dishes and was in the process of mixing up a quadruple batch of cookies. No matter how many cookies she made, they disappeared in a matter of hours. There were times when she thought the men were feeding them to the cows.
"Got any more of that coffee?" called Luke from the dining room.
"About a gallon. How's the gravy holding out?"
"You could bring a quart of that, too."
Carla smiled to herself as she filled another gravy boat, grabbed two hot pads and wrapped them around the thin wire handle of the coffeepot. When she got to the dining room, Ten was gone.
"Where's Ten?"
Luke grimaced at Carla's mention of the other man. "In the bunkhouse, I imagine. Why? You need something?"
"No. I was just wondering how Cosy's hand is doing."
Luke took the gravy boat and began drowning potatoes. "What did Cosy do this time?"
"He cut himself and wouldn't go to the doctor. I sewed it up as best I could, but I'm no surgeon."
Gravy slopped heavily from the boat and ran down onto the clean table as Luke's head snapped toward Carla.
"You what? " he asked.
"I sewed Cosy up with the curved needle and silk thread I have in my camping kit. Cash taught me how to do it years ago. He's forever cutting his hands when he's out prospecting. Most of the time a butterfly bandage will get the job done, but Cosy wouldn't hear of anything that fancy. He said a plain old needle and thread was all he wanted. When I was finished he doused everything in the gentian violet solution I've been putting on the calf that cut itself on wire." She glanced aside at Luke's plate. "Your gravy is getting away."
Luke looked down, scooped up runaway gravy on his finger and licked it off. He had to repeat the process several
He glanced up as Carla put a bowl of crisp, fresh green beans next to his plate. With difficulty he forced himself to watch his dinner instead of Carla. She was more beautiful to him each time he looked at her. The thought that he had driven her into the arms of some college boy had tormented Luke. His days had become longer and longer, but even half-dead from overwork, he had only to look at Carla to feel hot claws of desire sinking into him.
Finally Luke's thoughts had driven him to stay away from the ranch house entirely. He had spent five days roaming the Rocking M, sleeping out, waking with his whole body hot, clenched, burning with passion. During the day he had chased his thoughts as though they were cloud shadows flying over the face of the land.
At the end of five days, Luke still hadn't decided which was worse, the thought that Carla had had another man, or the realization that her virginity would no longer be a barrier holding them apart. They wanted each other. They were both of age. They could take each other, work the passion out of their systems, and then they could go on with life the only way that made any sense.
Separately.
She came here to cure herself of me. Why the hell hold back? Why not take what we both want so bad that we can't look at each other without shaking?
"Thanks," Luke said to Carla, his voice harsher than he had meant it to be.
Carla's smile was soft and hesitant, for Luke's expression was forbidding. He had been out on the range for the past five days; even before that he had been distant. Ever since he and Ten had argued almost four weeks ago. If they had argued. Ten had refused to talk about it. In any case, there certainly seemed to be no anger between the two men now.
For a few unguarded moments, Carla's luminous blue-green eyes watched Luke with transparent hunger, measuring the changes five days had made. His beard stubble had become a thick darkness from cheek to jaw, making his rare smiles flash by comparison. He looked tired, drawn, as though he had been sleeping as badly as she had.
Forcing herself not to linger at the table with Luke, Carla went back to the kitchen. She had already done the dinner dishes and was in the process of mixing up a quadruple batch of cookies. No matter how many cookies she made, they disappeared in a matter of hours. There were times when she thought the men were feeding them to the cows.
"Got any more of that coffee?" called Luke from the dining room.
"About a gallon. How's the gravy holding out?"
"You could bring a quart of that, too."
Carla smiled to herself as she filled another gravy boat, grabbed two hot pads and wrapped them around the thin wire handle of the coffeepot. When she got to the dining room, Ten was gone.
"Where's Ten?"
Luke grimaced at Carla's mention of the other man. "In the bunkhouse, I imagine. Why? You need something?"
"No. I was just wondering how Cosy's hand is doing."
Luke took the gravy boat and began drowning potatoes. "What did Cosy do this time?"
"He cut himself and wouldn't go to the doctor. I sewed it up as best I could, but I'm no surgeon."
Gravy slopped heavily from the boat and ran down onto the clean table as Luke's head snapped toward Carla.
"You what? " he asked.
"I sewed Cosy up with the curved needle and silk thread I have in my camping kit. Cash taught me how to do it years ago. He's forever cutting his hands when he's out prospecting. Most of the time a butterfly bandage will get the job done, but Cosy wouldn't hear of anything that fancy. He said a plain old needle and thread was all he wanted. When I was finished he doused everything in the gentian violet solution I've been putting on the calf that cut itself on wire." She glanced aside at Luke's plate. "Your gravy is getting away."
Luke looked down, scooped up runaway gravy on his finger and licked it off. He had to repeat the process several
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