Page 48 of A Rancher's Heart
Chapter Eleven
Caleb stumbled up the steps in the evening darkness, cursing solidly as his thigh met the edge of the railing with a bruising smack.
He was cold. He was tired, and every inch of his clothing was soaking wet. As a finalfuck you very much, he was still annoyed as fuck…for what had turned out to be no reason at all.
Yup, he would admit it. Right now he was one cranky bastard.
After a day from hell it made sense he wouldn’t be a happy camper, but he’d started off in the foulest of moods, and things had only gone downhill from there.
Last night waiting up for Tamara to return from her girls’ night out while pretending hewasn’twaiting up had been sheer torture. He’d finally kicked his own ass and took himself off to bed.
She was a grownup. She was old enough to know what she wanted and who she wanted to be with…
…and all the platitudes in the world didn’t help settle the fury in his gut when he walked outside at four a.m. and didn’t see her truck in the yard.
Soft curses turned the air around him blue, and the ranch dogs had stepped gingerly out of his way. He’d decided to find her and rain down fire and brimstone as hot and wild as any revival-tent preacher when he stomped back to the house two hours later and found—
The scent of coffee and baking filling the kitchen, like usual.
Tamara curled up in one of the outside chairs, like usual, gazing contentedly over the lake. She’d greeted him happily, then explained about her broken truck.
He clearly had no reason to be upset, but it wasn’t easy to turn off the pain that had begun to fester inside.
Followed by said day from hell, which had started moments after finishing his coffee before he’d even gotten to say good morning to the girls. Rushing out the door to an emergency call from one of the crew who’d been in an accident not far from home.
So now at whatever ungodly hour it was, Caleb stripped down not even two paces into the kitchen. He threw his filthy clothing on the floor in the laundry area before grabbing a towel off the rack and wrapping it around his hips. A quick glance at the wall clock said it was two a.m., and he strode toward his bathroom, planning to crank the heat as high as possible to chase away the chill in his bones. Maybe boil off some of his festering temper at the same time.
He rounded the corner, and caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows right before a solid body made impact with his. Adrenaline rushed his system as he caught hold to stop from falling over, jerking them against him, one arm locked high, the other low.
“Oh my God, Caleb, stop. It’sme. Tamara.”
Shit.
“Sorry.”
He went to let her go, then froze. The towel he’d hitched around his hips hadn’t been fastened very well, and with his quick actions, he must’ve loosened the knot.
The fabric drifted downward over his thighs to land silently on the floor, leaving him naked.
Tamara grasped his forearm with her wrists and shook it. “Caleb. Let go.”
It was sweet heaven and hell, her soft body held in front of him, the clean fresh scent of her in his nostrils an aphrodisiac. Not that he needed anything to get his motor going. Knowing she was in the house was enough to make him go off, even after his shitty day.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
“You’re scaring me. Where the hell have you been? And why are you creeping in at this time—?”
Dammit all. He lifted one hand to cover her mouth, the other still locked around her torso. “Shush. Don’t wake the girls.”
She stiffened, but her lips closed under his fingers, so he loosened his grip.
She spoke more quietly, but the anger in her tone was ozone sharp, the scent of lightning on the air. “You’re right. I wouldn’t want to wake them, especially since they spent the last hour before going to bed crying.”
Caleb just about jerked her around to face him before remembering he was naked. “What the hell are you talking about? What’s wrong? Are they hurt?”
Tamara let out a dramatic sigh. “No, physically, they’re fine, but are we really going to have this discussion with you holding me like you’re practicing to become a ninja warrior? What iswrongwith you? Let me go.”
He might have loosened the grip on her mouth, and she’d spoke in a near whisper, but the whole time she’d continued to wiggle, which was exactly what he didn’t need. His body reacted to the warmth and softness of her rubbing against his body. Frustrated with himself, still pissed at her, his response was sharper than it should have been.
