Give Me Tonight(46)

While he waited in the kitchen, staring after her restlessly, she went downstairs to the stone-floored ice cellar, where the perishable food was packed tightly with ice, straw, and sawdust. It was dark and blessedly cool down there. Addie wasted no time in filling the dishrag with ice and hurrying back upstairs. Ben took it from her, hesitating before applying it to his face.

"Put it on your eye," she said impatiently, and in­dicated a nearby chair. "And sit down. I want to see to your jaw, and you're too tall." She wet another cloth at the sink. "How are the other two men?"

"About the same." Ben sank down in the chair with a sigh, while the aches and pains in is body began to make themselves known. "They visited Cook and had him see to them as soon as we got back. I didn't have time." He turned his face into the ice, relishing its coldness. "We were lucky it didn't turn into gunfire. Ow!" He winced as Addie pressed the cloth to the comer of his cut lip. "Careful with that thing!"

"I'm sorry. I know it must hurt. "

"Damn right it does. "

She smiled into his baleful green eyes and took care to be even more gentle in her ministrations. She knew from her nursing experience that men were stoic and silent about their wounds until they were assured of a woman's attention. Then they started complaining and demanding to be fussed over.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I had a drink when I came in to talk to Russ."

"I . . . we . . . couldn't help overhearing some of your conversation."

He smiled sardonically. "With your ears pressed to the keyhole, I guess you couldn't."

"When he calms down and thinks about things, he might change his mind. A little common sense will make him see that—"

Ben snorted at the suggestion. "You know him bet­ter than that. This isn't a matter of common sense to him. It's a matter of pride. He won't back down."

"What are you going to?"

He shrugged, looking away from her. "Put the fence back up."

"Even though you don't believe in it?"

"I've told Russ what I think. That's my job. He's made the decision. That's his job. Whether or not I like his decision, I'm going to live by it. The alterna­tive is to leave, and I'm not ready to."

"Why not? There are other ranches that would hire you in a minute."

"I get the feeling you're hoping I'll go." Ben didn't miss the way she blushed and looked away. His eyes were cool and watchful as he continued, "Why won't I? Because I like Sunrise. And I gave my word to Russ that I'd stay as long as he needed me."

"You're very loyal to him, aren't you?" Addie asked. There was a fine edge to her voice that must have been unfathomable to him.

“He's one of the best men I've ever known. And one of the few I've ever met who deserves complete hon­esty. It would be easier just to tell him what he wants to hear. But I respect him too much for that."

"He thinks of you as an adopted son." The way she spoke made it sound far from a compliment. "What about your own family? What about your own father?"

"I've got a nice family in lllinois. And a respectable father, who's worked at a bank for the past twenty-five years." Ben grinned, his mood lightening. "Every time I'm anywhere near my father, he goes into the early stages of apoplexy. We don't have much in com­mon, he and I."

"With a Harvard education—if you really got one­ you could have gotten a job back east. Why did you decide on Texas?"

"The only place I'm not wanted by the law . . . yet." His deadpan assertion was so close to what she had been thinking that Addie started. Then she saw the dance of mischief in his eyes. He was taunting her. She scowled at him, unamused, forgetting her inten­tion to be sweet to him.

"I never know when to believe anything you say!"

"Poor Addie. And here you are, dispensing your charity and goodwill to a wounded man—"

"Oh, stop it," she said, thoroughly disconcerted by his sarcasm. "I don't know why I tried being nice to you. And you're not wounded, either. You're just a little beat-up."

"A real angel of mercy, aren't you?" He reached up experimentally to touch the comer of his mouth, which had stopped bleeding. She bent closer to peer at it.

"It doesn't look too bad to me."

"Only because you're not the one wearing it." His mouth tilted roguishly at the comers. "Don't I get a kiss to make it better?"

She snorted at the question, knowing he didn't re­ally mean it. "You’d probably die of shock if I did."

Slowly he set the ice down on the table. He decided to take a gamble. "Try it and see," he invited softly.

Addie stared at him in amazement. Her heart jerked as if it danced on the end of a string. Surely his last words had been the ultimate mockery. She knew she was staring at him, but she couldn't help it. He didn't mean it . . . oh, he couldn't mean it. But . . . he looked as if he did.

I can't. I just couldn't. He 'd make fun of me if I took him up on it. He 'll make fun of me if I don't, too. He 'll say I was afraid . . . he has too much of an ego to accept that I just didn't want to kiss him.