Wyoming Brave. Diana Palmer

neckline, so that no part of her back showed.

      He touched her cheek, pushed back the disheveled platinum hair that had come loose from the braid she wore it in. “Don’t you take it down at night?” he asked curiously.

      The feel of his hand on her face made her feel odd things. She felt trembly all over when he brushed her cheek like that. Her heart kicked into gear, unsettling her.

      “No, I have to put it up when I sleep,” she said. “It gets in my face. I really should cut it. But it’s been long all my life.”

      “It would be a crime to cut hair this beautiful,” he said quietly.

      She looked up into his eyes and couldn’t look away. Neither could he. His breath came quickly. He brushed his fingers along her cheek, down to the bow shape of her pretty mouth. They lingered there, teasing the soft flesh, making her feel liquid, melting. She wanted to push close to him, feel him hold her. She wanted to tempt his mouth down to hers and see what a kiss felt like. She was hungry for something...

      Incredibly, his head started to bend. She felt his whiskey-scented breath in her mouth. She drew in her own breath as she looked at his sensuous lips and wondered how they were going to feel grinding hungrily into hers.

      His hand slid to the back of her neck and began to pull, ever so gently. She felt her lips parting, her body throbbing, as his mouth came closer, closer, closer...

      “What happened?” Delsey asked from the doorway.

      Ren drew back from Merrie, glaring at her as if he was angry. He got to his feet quickly. “She had a nightmare,” he said shortly. He turned away, grateful that his pajamas were loose. “She’s all right. I’m going back to bed.”

      “Are you all right, dear?” Delsey asked. She was wearing a cotton nightgown and a long cotton robe. She looked like an angel.

      “I’m fine...now,” Merrie said breathlessly. “Just a nightmare. I’m so sorry I woke everybody up.”

      “I wasn’t asleep,” Delsey confessed. “I was watching a movie on my iPad.”

      “You can do that?” Merrie asked excitedly. “How?” Ren left them talking and went back to his bedroom. As an afterthought, he slammed the door. That woman was really a witch. He was reeling just from touching her mouth. He wasn’t going to be led into that sweet trap a second time. If she was in the market for a rich husband, Randall could have her. She was Randall’s girl, anyway, wasn’t she?

      He turned off the lights and climbed into bed, surprised at his own vulnerability.

      * * *

      MERRIE DELIBERATELY SLEPT LATE so that she wouldn’t have to sit at the table with Ren at breakfast. It was cowardly, but she worried that he’d be out for blood. He’d almost kissed her the night before. But he was going to hate himself for that weakness, and it would be open season on Merrie if she gave him the opportunity.

      She poked her head into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when she didn’t see him.

      Delsey was putting away the dishes. She grimaced when she saw Merrie.

      “I know. I came late,” Merrie said softly. “It’s okay. I don’t eat much, anyway.”

      The older woman looked hunted. Merrie went close and hugged her. “Thanks for saving me last night. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble with the boss.”

      Delsey hugged her back. “Not so much. I’ve been around since he was in college. I guess he’s used to me.” She drew away with a sigh. “He was topping cotton this morning,” she added, using an old Southern term for someone being furiously angry.

      Merrie laughed softly. “That’s very Southern sounding,” she commented.

      “I was born in Eufaula, Alabama,” Delsey said surprisingly. “I married a cowboy who was traveling through town with his boss on a cattle-buying trip. Met him in a café and went back to Wyoming with him three days later. We were married for twenty-five years before he had a heart attack. I stayed on working for Mr. Ren’s father after he died.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      She smiled. “It was a long time ago. I still miss him. I wish we could have had children, but that wasn’t in the cards.”

      “I would like children, I think,” Merrie said sadly. “I’m just not sure about marriage. My poor mother,” she said softly. “I don’t think she had a single happy day with my father. She lived for Sari and me. Until...” She closed up like a flower and smiled. “Did they get the female vet to come over from Powell?” she asked.

      “Yes, they did,” she replied. “Mr. Ren was on his way to the stables.”

      “He said they might call me to use some witchcraft on Hurricane so he’d let the vet in the stall with him,” Merrie murmured.

      “He says a lot of things he doesn’t really mean,” Delsey said softly. “Mr. Ren’s had a hard life. His father mostly ignored him. Then his mother divorced him to run away with Mr. Randall’s father, and she made Ren go along. He didn’t want to. He wasn’t crazy about his dad, but he loved this ranch.”

      “How old was he?” Merrie asked.

      “He was ten years old. Mr. Ren’s father went crazy after they left. He got drunk and stayed drunk for years. The ranch was falling apart by the time Mr. Ren graduated and came back here. He sobered up his dad, reorganized the ranch and started making improvements. He let the land stand for loans to improve pasture and fencing, to buy seed bulls, to upgrade the equipment and refurbish the stables and the barn...” She laughed as she finished putting up dishes. “He was like a whirlwind. The ranch got out of the red two years after he started. Fifteen years later, he has an empire here. His dad lived long enough to see a prosperous future, but not long enough to enjoy it.”

      “That’s sad.”

      “It was. Mr. Ren’s mother wanted to come to the funeral, but he refused to let her near the place.”

      Merrie caught her breath. “Why?”

      “They’ve had some problems,” Desley said. “Mr. Ren overheard her say something that hurt him real bad. I told you about that. He just left. Never even said goodbye. Hitchhiked out here to his dad, moved in and started to work. He’s like that,” she added. “He doesn’t say what he’s going to do. He just does it.”

      “He’s scary, in a way,” Merrie said.

      “Lots of people are, until you get to know them,” Delsey told her gently. “He’s not a violent man...”

      “...told you to get the damned rope on him first!” Ren was raging outside the window. “Now look what you’ve done, you idiot! I ought to lay you out on the ground, Grandy!”

      Merrie held her breath as Ren stormed in the back door, half carrying a man with blood all over one arm.

      “Oh, dear,” Delsey said. “Grandy, what in the world?”

      “Clean him up, would you, Delsey?” Ren asked, putting the man in a chair. “Probably needs stitches. I’ll get Tubbs up here to drive him into town to the doctor.” He glanced at Merrie coldly. “If you faint, don’t do it in here. I’ve got enough problems.”

      “How did it happen?” Delsey asked, while Merrie stood just staring at the bleeding man.

      “He was trying to rope a horse. Horse reared up and threw him into a sheet of tin.”

      “Was it Hurricane?” Merrie asked worriedly.

      “Yes, it was Hurricane,” he shot at her angrily.

      She moved closer to him. “Couldn’t I help?”

      He hesitated. He didn’t want her near the horse. He was furious at her because he’d been weak the night before. He didn’t want her around, didn’t want her near