The Rancher's Hand-Picked Bride. Elizabeth August

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СКАЧАТЬ get you riled it was Joe Jackson and you punched him so hard in the stomach, you got yourself suspended from school for three days.”

      Gwen recalled the incident vividly. It had happened during her sophomore year in high school. The minute she’d thrown the punch, she’d known it was the wrong thing to do and truly felt horrible about it. But Joe had hit a tender nerve…a very tender nerve. He’d whispered in her ear that he’d heard her mother was “easy” and could be had for a couple of drinks. Then he’d wanted to know what Gwen’s price was. Her shoulders straightened with defiance. “Joe Jackson had a vulgar mouth.”

      “True. But most girls would have just slapped him or given him a nasty look and walked away.”

      “That would only have egged him on.” Fighting down a surge of old guilt at her act of violence, she added in her defense, “He needed to be taught a lesson.”

      “You’re right. He did.”

      Gwen had expected Jess to continue mocking her behavior. That he agreed with her, startled her. Adding to her surprise, he grinned.

      “I can still see the look on Joe’s face,” he said. “He always bullied you girls because he never expected you to respond the way you did.”

      A haunted shadow flitted in Gwen’s eyes. “His type only prey on those weaker than themselves.”

      Jess’s smile vanished and his gaze narrowed on her. “You sound like you’ve had more than your share of experience with his type.”

      Angry that she’d nearly revealed things she was determined to keep private, she said with cool calm, “All women have had experience with his type. Some are just slower learners than others. That’s what keeps me in business.” Not wanting this conversation to continue, she turned her attention to the timer on the stove. “Looks like it’s getting to be time to pour the drinks.” Realizing he wasn’t leaving, she added, “Since you came to work and you know more about where things are in this kitchen, you can do that. I’ll take water.”

      Gwen could feel Jess staring at her. Her breath locked in lungs as she waited for him to make some snide remark about her ordering him around in his own kitchen. Then the sensation was gone and she heard him moving around the room, finding glasses and filling them.

      Neither spoke except for the necessary communications involved in getting the dinner on the table and summoning Morning Hawk. As all three seated themselves and they began to dish food onto their plates, the stilted atmosphere remained.

      Morning Hawk’s gaze traveled between them. “Obviously the two of you haven’t decided to be social to one another yet, but I am relieved you can be left alone in a room full of weapons and not get into a fight.”

      Jess’s eyes leveled on Gwen. “I tried to make small talk but she was like a wet cat. She snapped at everything I said.”

      Gwen met his gaze. “You were being nosy.”

      “All right, so maybe I was.”

      Gwen’s eyes rounded. “You admit it?”

      “I realized a long time ago that your coldness wasn’t limited just to me. You seem to hold a grudge against men in general. I was just curious as to why.”

      Gwen’s jaw hardened. “Men are users.”

      “Not all men.”

      “I suppose. But it’s hard to know which are and which aren’t. To avoid any trouble, I prefer to assume the worst and steer clear.” Immediately, she regretted not keeping her mouth shut. Jess was regarding her so narrowly his gaze felt like a knife trying to pierce the thick skin she’d grown around herself. Refusing to allow this conversation to remain on her, she added in a calm tone, “But then some women are users as well. I’m assuming that’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t get hooked by one of them.”

      Jess’s attention turned to his great-grandmother. “I’ve always considered myself real good at telling a shark from a trout.”

      Morning Hawk smiled. “Sometimes a man’s vision can be so blurred by the beauty and excitement of the moment, he’s sunk the hook before he realizes he’s snagged a fish not worth reeling in.”

      “When I’m doing some serious fishing, I always cast my line carefully,” Jess assured her.

      Morning Hawk’s expression became that of a wise sage. “No one can be certain about what lies beneath still waters.”

      Jess shook his head in a gesture of defeat and turned his attention to his food.

      Gwen breathed a mental sigh of relief as silence again settled over the table.

      A couple of hours later, Gwen plopped into the chair in her bedroom.

      Following the meal, Jess had insisted on helping her clean up the kitchen.

      “I’m sure the two of you don’t need my help,” Morning Hawk had said, and headed for the door. Then as if she’d had second thoughts, she’d seated herself in a rocking chair by the potbellied stove and taken out some handwork she kept in a basket there.

      Gwen had the impression the elderly woman had decided that a peacemaker or, perhaps, a referee might be needed.

      But as it turned out, the cleaning up had gone smoothly. She and Jess had kept their conversation focused on getting the job done and afterward he’d retired to his study and Gwen had taken refuge in her room.

      Drawing in a deep breath to calm her taut nerves, she realized she hadn’t locked her door. Something was definitely wrong with her survival instinct. From an early age, she’d always locked her door. Rising, she flipped the latch, then reseating herself, she frowned.

      When she and Jess were cleaning the kitchen, his arm had brushed hers a couple of times and each time she’d felt as if she’d been shocked by a bolt of electricity. And then there was that moment at the table when he’d admitted he’d been prying. The tiniest hint of an embarrassed smile had played at one corner of his mouth and she’d found herself thinking that he looked boyishly handsome. There had even been a momentary weakening in her knees. This was not good. Her mother had always been feeling weak in the knees about one man or another, and that was something Gwen had vowed never to do.

      “Clearly, I’m just overly tense,” she reasoned. “I’m not used to living under the same roof with strangers or with anyone else for that matter. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

      But even as she muttered these words, she was sure attempting to sleep would prove futile. However, a short while later, after a final check to make sure her bat was within reach, she crawled under the covers and closed her eyes. Almost immediately she fell into a comfortable slumber.

      Chapter Three

      Gwen opened her eyes to discover sunlight streaming in her window. She couldn’t believe it. In a strange house with a man who unnerved her merely by his presence, she’d had one of the best night’s sleeps she’d had in her life. “I’m definitely losing my edge,” she grumbled, throwing off the covers.

      Entering the kitchen a short while later, she found Morning Hawk sitting at the table drinking СКАЧАТЬ