Years of ingrained training had Brad asking, albeit reluctantly, “Need any help unloading your SUV?”
“Nope.” She swung away from him, and walked to her vehicle, spectacular legs flashing in the bright June sunlight. As he watched her go, Brad couldn’t help but notice she looked more like a well-to-do suburbanite, out for a day of shopping, than a housekeeper or—what was it Lewis had called it—personal organizer?—about to embark on the massive task of making the Lazy M ranch house livable.
Telling himself to quit thinking about her and concentrate on the installation ahead, he continued unloading his pickup, laying pipe, sprinkler heads, fans and linear heat sensors on the cement floor of the freshly scrubbed-out barn. He was nearly done when he heard the first scream. Shrill and terrified sounding, it split the air with the intensity of an air-raid siren.
“What the…?” Brad dropped the box in his hand.
Another scream pierced the air, louder and longer than the last.
He took off at a run.
LAINEY WAS STILL SCREAMING when Brad charged through the open front door and found her crouched, still shaking and scared, atop the kitchen counter.
His expression went from panicked to amused in an instant.
“Look, I know the place is a mess, and you must feel frustrated as hell, but don’t you think you’re overdoing the drama just a tad?”
Lainey wished that were the case. Not that Brad didn’t have a point. Perhaps she shouldn’t have yelled like a banshee when she discovered the state of her quarters for the next few weeks.
Unbelievably, the guest cottage was in even worse shape than the Lazy M ranch house. Instead of being crowded with boxes, though, it was heaped with old furniture of various kinds and all sorts of odds and ends. In short, it looked the way many people’s attics looked after being neglected a good ten, twenty or thirty years. But that wasn’t why she’d been yelling her head off for the past two minutes.
“Follow your nose, cowboy!” She pointed to the source of the foul odor that had prompted her to head for the kitchen in the first place. “And get those…creatures out of here!”
“Huh?” His expression perplexed, Brad swaggered through the maze of belongings and stared down at the five exceedingly ugly creatures on the other side of the counter. “Armadillos?”
“Nine-banded armadillos.” Lainey shuddered, not about to admit how glad she had been to see Brad charging to her rescue. Not that she considered herself a damsel in distress, of course. “A whole family of them.”
Brad braced his hands on his waist. “I can see that.”
“I hope that’s all of them, anyway!” Lainey shuddered again. She didn’t know what she would do if she found other creatures in the guest house, as well. The four baby armadillos, weighing about five or six pounds each, were backed into the corner of the U-shaped kitchen, toward the sink. The mama—a behemoth the size of a terrier and a lot less friendly—was guarding the only way out.
Brad flashed her a bad-boy smile that was enough to make her stomach drop. “It is.”
“How do you know? You just got here!” She was the one who had been crouching uncomfortably on the kitchen countertop, her skirt hiked up around her thighs, for what seemed like an eternity as she screamed for help.
Brad’s glance slid from the floor, to her legs, and then to her face. “Because armadillos always have four identical offspring—every time,” he told her in a husky voice that soon had her tingling all over. “They all come from the same egg, hence they are the same sex.”
She couldn’t believe she was talking reproduction with one of the sexiest bachelors alive. “Well then, let’s hope Papa Armadillo isn’t around here somewhere, too,” she declared.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, unconcerned. “Oh, they never hang around for the birth. He probably took off months ago, shortly after, uh, getting her in the family way.”
She felt herself flush. “Do we really need to be talking about the mating habits of armadillos right now?” she muttered, trying to no avail to bring the hem of her skirt down, just a little. Unfortunately, the fabric was too tight and she lacked maneuvering room.
“You brought it up. What did you do to rile Big Mama up, anyway?”
Telling herself Brad’s scrutiny was not sexual in nature, Lainey explained, “I walked in and almost tripped over one of her babies. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by scurrying…screeching…beasts.” She shuddered again, recalling the panic that had ensued.
He reached over and gave her bare knee a warm, companionable squeeze. “Given the way you were screaming and leaped up here, they probably think the same thing about you.”
Trying not to think about the way her skin was tingling from just that brief casual contact, Lainey frowned at him. “Very funny.”
He folded his arms in front of him. “I suppose you want me to remove them.”
Lainey rolled her eyes. He was enjoying her discomfiture and dragging this out on purpose! “Duh.”
“Okay.” Brad pivoted on his heel. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” She reached out for his shirt, missed. “You can’t leave me here!”
But of course he already had.
She looked back at the armadillos nervously. She hadn’t seen one of them since she was a kid and living in rural Laramie. And she’d never viewed one this close. The mother had a pointed face and large pointy ears that stuck straight up. A hard brown shield covered the mama’s shoulders, another her rump. Between the two were nine bands, hence the name. Her tail was long and tapering, sort of like a rat’s tail, only this was completely covered with disgustingly bony rings. She had scattered yellowish hairs across her body, particularly around her face, and wicked-looking claws on all four of her feet. Lainey had no doubt Big Mama would fight to the death to protect her young—Lainey would, too.
She did not want to tangle with the animal.
What seemed like an eternity later, but was really only a couple of minutes, Brad strode back in, carrying a large metal animal cage and wearing heavy-duty elbow-length leather ranch gloves. “Just so you know,” he warned her, eyes twinkling, “this probably isn’t going to be pretty. Or quiet.”
Unsure whether it was excitement or annoyance speeding up her heartbeat, Lainey said in a strangled voice, “Just get them out of here!”
Brad moved a couple of boxes to block any exit attempt the five armadillos might make, then waded into the kitchen, trap in hand. When the baby armadillos scattered, Big Mama ambled away from Brad and then broke out into an awkward run, slamming into the side of one cupboard, then another. For a while it was kind of like trying to catch a greased pig. As soon as Brad would get near Big Mama, she would head off in the other direction. Unperturbed, Brad stalked the mother armadillo calmly, until he finally had Big Mama cornered, then reached down and grabbed her swiftly by the base of the tail. Big Mama squawked in terror and spun wildly, but Brad held on and somehow managed to drop her into the metal trap and shut it again without getting scratched or bit. The other four babies were caught in the same manner. Once all five were in the trap, Brad locked the lid.
Lainey breathed a huge sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized until that moment how glad she was to have Brad there, saving the day. “Now what?” she demanded.
“Depends.” Brad gave her an assessing look. “You like armadillo meat?”
“You’re kidding.”
The corners of Brad’s lips twitched as he said drolly, “Guess that’s a no.” Brad picked up the cage of animals and swaggered for the door.
“Tell me what you’re going to do with them!” Lainey called after him, belatedly feeling