The Last Landry. Kelsey Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ a doctor, a general practitioner in town. Clayton had a law office in Missoula, crusading to save others from the horrible ordeal that had robbed him of four years of his life. And Chandler, well, he was a big, important author now. Taylor smiled, remembering how stunned she’d been to learn of his well-hidden, secret persona.

      Shane was the homebody. He adored everything about the ranch, including Will, who he obviously looked to as a friend and mentor. That alone was almost enough of a reason for Taylor to keep trying with the crusty old guy. She had a pretty good idea of what it must have been like for Shane to return to the Lucky 7 after so many years, only to find his parents gone.

      Now he knew they were dead. She felt great empathy for the Landry clan. Especially Shane, since she knew precisely how he was feeling even if they never talked about that sort of thing. Actually, they never talked, period.

      The concept of parental abandonment hit close to home, Taylor acknowledged as she stepped off the pathway in order to avoid another mud puddle. She knew what it felt like from firsthand experience.

      That was only a minor reason why Shane was off-limits. In addition to a strong physical pull, she suspected, they had too much else in common. They had—

      Taylor didn’t get to finish her thought. Not when she found herself suddenly flying facefirst into a deep puddle of mud. Turning her head to the side just in time, she spat out grit, then let loose a colorful curse.

      She opened one eye to see a pair of size thirteen boots inches away from her nose. “Is that any way for a lady to talk?” Shane chided.

      “Are you going to help me?” she demanded, glaring up at him as she struggled to her hands and knees in the cold slime.

      His face contorted in what she was sure was a very gallant attempt to keep from laughing. “Only if you ask nicely.”

      She glared daggers up at him, feeling the globs of mud slide down the front of her shirt and into her bra. “I would rather gnaw off my own muddy tongue.”

      “Suit yourself,” he sighed, shifting his weight and crossing his arms over his chest.

      Taylor did a humiliating Three Stooges thing where she’d almost make it, then lose her footing and fall again. But she refused to ask for his assistance. Arrogant and…stupid. Neither of those things normally described her, yet Shane seemed to bring them all out in spades.

      With the grace and balance of a two-legged giraffe, she finally pulled herself out of the puddle and back onto dry land. She was soaked, and filthy, smelled like earth and was so cold her teeth started to chatter.

      Shane mumbled something unflattering about her being hardheaded as he removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders.

      “It’ll get ruined,” she complained.

      “So will you, if you don’t get out of those wet things before you catch cold.”

      She wrapped herself in the coat, feeling the warmth of his body transfer to hers. “You don’t catch a cold from the weather. A cold is a virus and—”

      “Can’t you ever just say thank-you?” he grumbled as he took her by the elbow and led her toward the back door.

      She practically had to jog to keep pace with him. Shane didn’t seem to realize that their height difference meant she had to take two steps to his one. “Sure. Thank you for not helping me out of the puddle.”

      He chuckled softly. As always, the sound comforted her in ways it shouldn’t and at a time it shouldn’t.

      “You’re a real smart-ass, Taylor.”

      “One of us has to be smart,” she retorted, glancing up to bat her eyelashes at him. “Get the door so that I don’t have to wash the mud off it in the morning.”

      “A competent housekeeper wouldn’t wait until morning.” He reached around her and grabbed the knob, then yanked open the door.

      “A competent housekeeper wouldn’t work for the pittance you pay me.” Which was totally unfair, she acknowledged rather guiltily. Sometimes she had to find ammunition when no ammunition was available.

      “Free room,” he reminded her, following her inside. “And board, tuition payments and a car. I don’t see where you’re so bad off.”

      Removing the coat, she held it out to him as if she was handing him a giant cootie. “I am perfect. You are bad off.”

      “Really?” Using his coat like protective gloves, he grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around and marched her into the hallway.

      Taylor almost shrieked when she caught sight of her reflection in the beveled mirror above the highboy. Her hair was nothing but limp, brown clumps. The only part of her face not covered in mud were her eyes, making her look like some nocturnal creature.

      “Not so perfect now, eh?”

      “You’re an evil man,” she cried, twisting free and racing off to her room. She’d worry about the mud tracks on the polished wood floors after she showered and threw her clothes in the trash. Only now there was very little hope of making her class on time. That great, structured life of hers had gone to hell in a handcart rather quickly.

      Ten minutes later, a freshly showered Taylor was racing around, putting on her shoes while making an attempt at maneuvering the hair dryer one-handed. It wasn’t the best system, so she gave up, grabbing a large clip off the vanity and twisting her clean but soaking hair into a messy bundle at the back of her head.

      At least she wouldn’t be stuck in a class for three hours wearing a damp sweater, smelling like wet wool. Glancing over at the clock, she grabbed her keys and dashed toward the front door. If she ignored the posted speed limit and parked illegally, she’d only be ten or fifteen minutes late.

      “I’m leaving!” she called out, skating on her towel to clean the mud off the floor as she went.

      “For good, I hope?” Shane asked as he came out of the living room and leaned against the jamb.

      She smiled. “Soon enough, but for now, you’d be lost without me, Shane.”

      His eyes met hers. “Very true.”

      Man, she hated it when he did that! Banter worked. Moments of genuine kindness, like sacrificing his coat and cleaning the kitchen after her pie baking marathon, did not. The man didn’t play fair.

      It was easier to spar with Shane than to acknowledge his good side. Well, technically, it was a great side. But she was in too much of a hurry to deal with all that right now. “N-night,” she stammered awkwardly, moving in a wide arc to avoid even the possibility of making physical contact.

      “Do you have pencils and paper?” he asked, moving into her path.

      “It’s graduate school, Shane, not kindergarten.”

      His dark head tilted to one side; his warm, minty breath fell across her upturned face. Taylor’s pulse quickened as his fingers reached out, hovering just shy of her throat. Anticipation rushed through her system. Contradictory thoughts—Please touch me! No, don’t touch me!—ping-ponged in her mind. She struggled to keep from betraying herself completely.

      Not СКАЧАТЬ