She tried to put distance between them but he stuck to her side. When in the center of the clearing, she slipped on an icy patch and found the electric touch of his hand on her arm long enough to stabilize her—long enough to make her burn inside and out.
That’s it. A drastic intervention was called for.
“Thank you.” She stuck her hands in the pockets of the jacket. “Okay. All right. I want to be upfront about something so I can keep it from growing out of proportion.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Go on.”
“I’m attracted to you and I want you to know the pregnancy hormones racing around inside of my body are doing that to me. I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice guy who is perfectly attractive to most women.”
“But you aren’t most women?” He stepped closer, she was sure he did that to make her step farther away…and she did. She wanted to skitter away, but she didn’t do skittering very well these days.
“Unfortunately, I am most women, and right now, I could eat you up without even sitting down.”
He grinned. “This is turning out to be a very interesting day.”
“I’m afraid it’s not really me talking.”
“It’s the hormones?”
“Afraid so. I usually have more control than…”
“Than what?”
“I know you’re yanking my chain now, but I’ve been around pretty faces for years and I’ve always been able to keep a lid on feeling anything about any of them, because a pretty face is just that.”
“I’m a pretty face?”
She stepped closer to the stream. “Oh, you are such a pretty face.”
“And you find yourself helplessly attracted to me?” He took another step toward her.
“If you come any closer, I might have to defend all of us from me. I might seem to be a helpless, pregnant thing, but I have to tell you, I’m not.” She drew herself up tall and put fists to her hips to take up as much space as possible.
“Never entered my mind that you were.” He stopped and leaned against a convenient pine tree, letting her put some distance between them. “Helpless in any way.”
“I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I am so much less censored these days, but I thought if I got it out in the open I could enlist your help in keeping me from doing something we’d regret.”
He moved again, stalking unhurriedly toward her like a big cat after prey.
“Darlin’,” he said with an exaggerated drawl, “speak for yourself.”
CHAPTER FOUR
KAYLEE FELT HER MUSCLES tense. She couldn’t budge, even to flee. Baylor approached where she stood by the burbling stream.
Stuff had come tumbling out of her mouth today, stuff that horrified her to hear out loud even if it was the truth.
The big rancher took another deliberate step, concentration suffusing his features.
He was coming—she knew he was—to grab her by the borrowed jacket collar and throw her off the ranch himself. And she’d be lucky if that’s all he did.
He took another step, and then he stopped and threw his head back and laughed.
She did a slow fish-mouthed gape. What the hell—heck—are you laughing at? hung frozen, unspoken, on her tongue.
“KayLee.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She hated to be in a position to apologize, but there was nothing for this situation except to beg forgiveness and hope Baylor Doyle had a big…um…heart.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His sincere expression told her he wasn’t joking or being dismissive.
Relief sapped nearly all the energy from her legs. She leaned forward and put her hands on her wobbly knees and then straightened. “I know it’s—I’m so idiotic to…”
“KayLee.” He stopped her with a raised hand. “You will so fit in around here.”
“What?”
“It’s good to know you won’t be horrified by the goings-on at the ranch. There are fewer inhibitions way out here than people think—at least it’s true on this ranch.”
“Uh, it’s not the cow and horse sex is it?”
He made a face as if her words shocked him and laughed again.
She grabbed the sides of her borrowed knit hat and tugged it down until it hid her eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that. If you threw me out right now, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“It’d be easier to keep you than to try to explain to my family. Did you make everyone in Southern California blush?” He sounded too kind, and…well, maybe tolerant when he spoke.
She lifted the edge of the hat and blinked at him. “I didn’t. Really. I used to be sane and nice, even intelligent.”
Shade from the windblown pine branches flickered across his features. “You’re still nice. It’s all the things going on in your life that’re making you a little—”
“Extreme? Crazy? One brick short of a load?” She narrowed her eyes. “And what do you mean? All what that’s going on in my life? How much do you know about me?”
“More than you know about us, I’d wager.”
What had she said? She had practiced her presentation so often, she was sure she hadn’t dragged her personal life out for them all to examine. What had they done? She turned slowly away and stared into the partially ice-covered brook. The water flashed and coursed in plain view and then sometimes hid beneath a layer of snow-covered ice.
The sheriff trusted these people or he wouldn’t have sent her back…unless he was one of those bad cops from the movies and these people were all psycho. Too extreme? Yes, it was. She took a deep breath of the cold air to ground herself.
If she had stepped into a horror movie, she wasn’t going to wait until some dark night to find out. She’d demand of Baylor what was up and judge his reaction. She could only hope he didn’t pull out a chainsaw from his back pocket.
Cold seeped trough the toes of her shoes and the seams of the well-worn brown jacket. She started to shiver, but she faced Baylor. “How much do you know about me and how?”
He reached into his jacket pocket.
Oh, God.
He studied her for a long second and then produced a battered old red camera.
“You’re cold—” he handed her the camera “—but I thought you might like to take a couple photos before we get in the truck.”
“It’s not a chainsaw,” she said as she breathed out a sigh.
“No. I keep all my gas-powered tools in my work-coat pocket,” he said very seriously.
She did so deserve to be mocked, but it was better than being thrown out.
She scanned his face and the sincere expression warmed her and then she shivered harder. She didn’t know how much was cold and how much was mortification, but she took the camera. “Thank you.”
Grateful to have a diversion, she started clicking photos of the stand of trees, of the clearing where the other cabins would be built, of the stream and forest, of the mountains against the blue sky. The more she shot, the more excited she became, and the colder, until her hands shook too much to get a decent picture.
“Ready?”