Safe In The Rancher's Arms. Catherine MannЧитать онлайн книгу.
whatever he could to help rebuild Royal. And he would start with Beth’s little bungalow.
It was so dark now he could barely see her face. “Let’s go.” She allowed him to take her arm and steer her toward the truck, but he knew she was struggling to deal with the blow to her life, her livelihood, her dreams.
As they pulled up in front of Willowbrook, Jed excused himself and walked away. Drew helped Beth down from the truck, his hands lingering a second longer than was necessary at her narrow waist. “I think I’m ready for that pie now. You want to join me? We can take it in the den and watch some TV.”
Beth nodded. “Sure.”
The kitchen was dark, the housekeeper gone for the night. But she had left the pie front and center on the table. Drew grabbed a couple of plates and cut two big slices. Beth looked askance at hers. “Seriously?”
He grinned at her, feeling the stress of the day melt away. “You’re still catching up on calories. It won’t hurt you. Besides, you know you’re a knockout.”
She blinked twice as if his words had shocked her.
Taking the can of topping, he spritzed both desserts with a fancy swirl. Since Beth was still mute, he dared to tease her. “Maybe when we know each other a little better, I’ll let you use the whipped cream.”
“In your dreams,” she shot back.
But he had made her smile.
They carried their plates to the comfy den. Drew lowered the lights to a gentle glow and sat down on the sofa with a sigh of contentment. Beth took a seat beside him, but at the other end. They both kicked off their shoes and propped their feet on the coffee table.
Someone had already built a fire in the fireplace. Everyone on Drew’s staff knew that as soon as the thermometer dropped below fifty for the first time in the fall, he wanted firewood and matches ASAP. It was a comfort thing to him, not so much for warmth as for the sound and smell. The pop and crackle—and the scent of burning wood. Fires reminded him of happy times with his dad...the many occasions the older Farrell had taken Jed and Drew camping in the Texas hill country.
The silence in the room was comfortable. He and Beth ate pie in harmony. It was, perhaps, a temporary détente, but he was content to enjoy the moment. Now that he was seated, the full weight of exhaustion rolled over him. Between the sleepless night and the hard, emotionally draining work in Royal today, his body felt battered.
He finished his dessert and set the plate aside. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop back against the sofa.
Beth’s voice caught him just as he hovered on the edge of sleep. “How bad was it in town?”
Not bothering to move his body, he turned his head to look at her. “Bad. As bad as I’ve ever seen in person.”
Beth was pale, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “What did you and Jed do today?”
“Helped with the search and rescue teams. The houses we went to were all empty, but I heard that one of the crews this afternoon found a mom and two kids trapped in a bathtub with a mattress over them. They’d been yelling for help off and on for hours. But with their house crumpled on top of them, it took the dogs to sniff them out.”
“But they’re going to be okay?”
“Yes, thank God.”
“I want to go with you tomorrow,” she said.
“I understand. And there will be plenty of stuff to help with. But I’ll come back for you after lunch. Jed and I have a meeting at the Cattleman’s Club in the morning. Did you call the building inspector I told you about?”
Beth didn’t seem entirely pleased. “I did, but I feel bad about it. Jumping to the head of the line seems rude.”
“It’s not rude at all. That’s what friends do.”
“But he’s not my friend.”
Drew sat up, rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. Was he doomed to surround himself with stubborn women? He counted to ten. When he thought he had his temper under control, he glared at her. “I know you’re an independent woman. I know you can take care of yourself. But why not let me smooth the path when I can? I guarantee that if you try to find an inspector on your own, your house will sit there for a long time. Half of Royal is going to be in the same boat.”
* * *
Beth felt the pinch of shame. Drew was only trying to help. And she was being less than gracious. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. Her mother had raised two kids on government assistance, leaving Beth with an aversion to asking for or taking help. “You’re right. I’ll be happy to meet with him. Thank you.”
The sharp planes of Drew’s masculine face softened. He reached across the cushioned no-man’s-land between them and twined his fingers with hers, playing with the silver ring on her right hand. “Now, was that so hard?”
She managed a smile though she was distracted by the curve of his mouth and the way his sexy, humorous grin left her breathless. She tugged her hand away. “It must be gratifying to be able to hand out help without thinking of the consequences.”
Now he frowned. “Why does that sound like an insult?”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic. I’m serious. You have the means to help people without worrying about the bottom line. I imagine you find that rewarding.”
He released her and returned to his earlier position. Perhaps her impulsive statement had offended him.
Shaking his head in what appeared to be disgust, he frowned. “I won’t apologize for having money.” The words were flat. “If you weren’t so stubborn, and if you would let yourself think outside the box, you might realize that our dispute over the road could be handled in a way that would help your bottom line immensely.”
This time the silence that descended was awkward. He had shut her out deliberately. Maybe she had not been entirely truthful about her lack of sarcasm. It was possible she had some passive-aggressive issues to work through when it came to the inequity between their lifestyles. But if he thought he could buy her automatic compliance, he was mistaken.
Drew was champagne and Rolex and jetting to Paris. Beth drank tap water, used the clock on her cheap flip phone and had never been outside of Texas. Was it any wonder that she felt at a disadvantage when it came to dealing with a macho, Texas-born-and-bred billionaire?
“May I ask you something?” she said, wanting to get inside his head and understand what made him tick.
His gaze was wary. “I suppose.”
“When we were in the storm cellar, you started to tell me something about your engagement, but I cut you off. I’d really like to hear what you were going to say.”
He shrugged. “It’s not anything noteworthy.”
“Then tell me.”
He linked his hands behind his neck, staring into the fire. “Her name was Margie. We met at an equine convention in Dallas. Shared a few laughs. Tumbled into bed. We had a lot in common.”
Beth pondered his response for several long seconds. “And that was enough for an engagement?”
“We went back and forth seeing each other for six months. Her condo in Houston. My place here in Royal. By the end of the seventh month, it seemed like the right time to settle down. Start a family. So I proposed. She was pleased that I asked.”
“No grand passion?”
“I wouldn’t call it that. No.”
“Ah.”
“We made it a couple of months with a ring on her finger before the problems began to crop up. She was stubborn. Extremely bull-headed.”
“And so are you.”