walked to the armoire, and pulled out what she planned to wear down to dinner that night. Yep. It was high time she pulled her head out of the sand and started using her head for more than a hat rack.
* * * * *
Curley glanced up at Flint with a frown. "You got a burr under your saddle, or what, boss man?" His blue gaze searched Flint's expression. "I take it you haven't gotten beyond first base with that little spitfire yet?"
Dark eyes slid his way, and Flint's lips tightened. "What the hell do you expect? Her asshole of a step-father has soured her on men completely. I don't want to push her into a corner. That might make her hate me. Takin' my time here..."
"Betcha I could get her to forget her asshole of a step-father within 24 hours. Wanna place a wager on it?"
The look on Flint's face was his answer, and Curley howled with laughter. "Just pullin' your leg, boss-man. Loosen up and just go for it. No way in hell will that filly refuse to give you whatever you ask from her, my friend. I've seen the way those big ol' gold eyes light up when she doesn't think you're lookin'. Don't regret your inaction. You need that woman more than you need air."
Flint scowled at the man, but couldn't help but grin after a minute. Curley and he had been sidekicks since they had been too short to see over the paddock fence. Curley's parents had left him with Flint's folks for a short stay...and had never come back for him. When it had become apparent that the gangly waif with the straw-colored thatch and the wide blue eyes had been abandoned, Frank Calderon had filed legal papers for guardianship, and he'd raised the kid with his own son. The boys took it in stride, already feeling like brothers, they'd sealed the bargain by poking their thumbs with barbed wire and becoming blood brothers. And when his dad had died, he'd left a few acres of ground and a small nest egg to help Curley be independent.
Curley had built himself a three-room cabin and had taken that nest egg and bought six good brood mares. Training and selling the colts those mares produced from Flint's big quarter horse stud had given Curley a cash flow of his own. And rodeoing had brought the pair good winnings when they needed cash quickly.
Closer than born-brothers, the two had learned to communicate without talking a long time ago, and Curley could read Flint like a goddamn book at times...like now.
"I'll get around to saddling and taming her when I feel the time is right. You just keep your damn paws off her. That is, if you want to keep them."
Curley's deep chuckle rumbled through the hay barn, and they both returned to tossing hundred pound bales onto the winter stack. A comfortable silence surrounded them as they completed their task. They forked a couple of bales of fresh hay to the horses and then headed back to the house for showers.
Dora was putting plates on the table when Flint and Curley came into the dining room, and Flint frowned as he glanced around. "Where's Lily? I told her to help you with supper."
The older woman lifted her brows and wiped her hands on her apron as she turned to face her boss. "After what she went through earlier with all that emotional rigmarole, you just don't say one word to her about anything, Flint Calderon. I would have shooed her out if she'd tried to come in here to help."
Curley glanced sideways at Flint, and simply took the dishes and distributed them around the table without saying a word. He went to the sideboard and got silverware, and placed it carefully by each plate, then put out water glasses. Flint just stared at him as if he'd grown another head.
"I've got two hands, boss-man. And I'm not plumb wore out. I'll help Dora. You go find Lily."
Dora smiled up at the big blond cowboy and winked at him as Flint turned toward the stairs. He'd only gotten a couple of steps out into the hallway when she appeared at the top of the stairs, and he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth dropping open and his
* * * * *
Curley glanced up at Flint with a frown. "You got a burr under your saddle, or what, boss man?" His blue gaze searched Flint's expression. "I take it you haven't gotten beyond first base with that little spitfire yet?"
Dark eyes slid his way, and Flint's lips tightened. "What the hell do you expect? Her asshole of a step-father has soured her on men completely. I don't want to push her into a corner. That might make her hate me. Takin' my time here..."
"Betcha I could get her to forget her asshole of a step-father within 24 hours. Wanna place a wager on it?"
The look on Flint's face was his answer, and Curley howled with laughter. "Just pullin' your leg, boss-man. Loosen up and just go for it. No way in hell will that filly refuse to give you whatever you ask from her, my friend. I've seen the way those big ol' gold eyes light up when she doesn't think you're lookin'. Don't regret your inaction. You need that woman more than you need air."
Flint scowled at the man, but couldn't help but grin after a minute. Curley and he had been sidekicks since they had been too short to see over the paddock fence. Curley's parents had left him with Flint's folks for a short stay...and had never come back for him. When it had become apparent that the gangly waif with the straw-colored thatch and the wide blue eyes had been abandoned, Frank Calderon had filed legal papers for guardianship, and he'd raised the kid with his own son. The boys took it in stride, already feeling like brothers, they'd sealed the bargain by poking their thumbs with barbed wire and becoming blood brothers. And when his dad had died, he'd left a few acres of ground and a small nest egg to help Curley be independent.
Curley had built himself a three-room cabin and had taken that nest egg and bought six good brood mares. Training and selling the colts those mares produced from Flint's big quarter horse stud had given Curley a cash flow of his own. And rodeoing had brought the pair good winnings when they needed cash quickly.
Closer than born-brothers, the two had learned to communicate without talking a long time ago, and Curley could read Flint like a goddamn book at times...like now.
"I'll get around to saddling and taming her when I feel the time is right. You just keep your damn paws off her. That is, if you want to keep them."
Curley's deep chuckle rumbled through the hay barn, and they both returned to tossing hundred pound bales onto the winter stack. A comfortable silence surrounded them as they completed their task. They forked a couple of bales of fresh hay to the horses and then headed back to the house for showers.
Dora was putting plates on the table when Flint and Curley came into the dining room, and Flint frowned as he glanced around. "Where's Lily? I told her to help you with supper."
The older woman lifted her brows and wiped her hands on her apron as she turned to face her boss. "After what she went through earlier with all that emotional rigmarole, you just don't say one word to her about anything, Flint Calderon. I would have shooed her out if she'd tried to come in here to help."
Curley glanced sideways at Flint, and simply took the dishes and distributed them around the table without saying a word. He went to the sideboard and got silverware, and placed it carefully by each plate, then put out water glasses. Flint just stared at him as if he'd grown another head.
"I've got two hands, boss-man. And I'm not plumb wore out. I'll help Dora. You go find Lily."
Dora smiled up at the big blond cowboy and winked at him as Flint turned toward the stairs. He'd only gotten a couple of steps out into the hallway when she appeared at the top of the stairs, and he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth dropping open and his
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