A Rancher's Pride(52)

Slowly, she touched her same index finger below her mouth and brushed the tip downward and off her chin. His gaze lingered on her bottom lip.

He rose from his couch and came around the coffee table to sit beside her.

She clutched the cushion she had dropped into her lap.

“Green?” he asked, grabbing another crayon.

She held her thumb and index finger a half inch apart. Luckily, she needed to shake her hand to form the sign for green, because her fingers were already trembling.

“Blue?” he asked, looking directly at her.

She glanced down at his empty hand. “N-no fair. You’re not holding a blue crayon.”

“I was talking about your eyes. They’re blue. Very blue. And your cheeks are bright pink all of a sudden.” He smiled and leaned closer. “I can learn all my colors,” he murmured, “just by looking at you.”

Her heart thumped heavily. She wanted to lean back but couldn’t. She should get up and walk away. Somehow, she couldn’t do that, either. “There are more signs than just colors, you know.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

He smiled. He knew just what he was doing to her. And darn him, he was enjoying it.

“True.” He nodded. “How do you say I?”

She pointed her index finger at herself.

“And how do you say want?”

“You…do this.” She held both palms up and crooked all her fingers as she pulled her hands toward her body.

He leaned even closer. “And how do you say a kiss?” he whispered.

“Uhh…” She paused. “I forget.” She had to draw the line somewhere.

Didn’t she?

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Well, maybe this will help your memory.” He slid his arm around her waist and held her close.

Before she could react, could close her eyes or even take a breath, Becky’s high-pitched laughter rang out. She stood in the kitchen archway, her shoulders hiked up near her ears and her hands trying to cover the huge grin splitting her face.

A gesture that could probably be understood in any language.

Then she put the fingertips of each hand together and pursed her lips.

“Saved,” Kayla said, gently pushing Sam away. “You’ve just seen the sign for kiss.”





Chapter Sixteen





Sam slid the lengths of pine onto his workbench and flipped the switch to turn off the saw. As usual on a Saturday night, Jack and the boys had gone into town and he had the workshop in one corner of the bunkhouse to himself.

Or maybe not.

As the whine of the saw faded, footsteps tapped against the hallway floor. Kayla stepped through the doorway. He tightened his grip on the plank.

“Becky’s almost ready for bed, and she was wondering where you were.” Her smile seemed strained.

“Looks like you found me,” he said. Great answer. Tongue-tied and awkward as he’d suddenly felt, he couldn’t come up with anything better. Teasing her on the couch in the living room had been one thing.

Seeing her here in his workshop, the place he went to when he needed to escape, was something else.

“I followed the noise of the saw,” she said.

He nodded. Something Becky wouldn’t have been able to do. The thought hurt. “I’ll come over to the house in just a few minutes.”

“Okay.” She looked around the shop, seeming to take everything in. Her gaze lingered on his latest piece, a stallion he’d stained in a shade so dark it gleamed like onyx in the fluorescent light over the workbench. “This is beautiful,” she said quietly.

He shrugged.

“They’re all beautiful.” She indicated the plaques and carvings and inlaid pieces on the shelves lining the room. “All horses. And every one of them is running, like the horse on Becky’s headboard.”

“They’re free,” he muttered.

“And they’re alive?” she asked softly.

He dug his nails into the wood he still held. How had she caught on to that?

“Sam, what happened after the fire? To you, I mean.”

Carefully, he set the plank down on his workbench. He’d told her more than he should have this afternoon. Did he want to satisfy her question now? If he refused, would he discover she’d already found out the answer to that, too?

Better to tell her himself than to have her tell him whatever rumors she’d heard.