Love on the Range (Brothers in Arms #3)(15)

“You need to keep something cool on it for a while though, until all the heat goes out of it. It will make the burn less serious.” She grabbed a towel off a nail and soaked it quickly, wrung it out, then wrapped it around Wyatt’s arm.

He allowed it, which surprised her. He’d often snapped at her when he was hurt and wanting to get out of his bandages so he could get to work.

“Does it hurt bad? I’m sorry I was so careless.” Her right hand rested under his left arm, holding it still, while her left hand held the cool, wet towel pressed gently on the burn.

“It’s not bad. I shouldn’t have crowded you like that.”

He shifted, so her back was to the sink, to keep her from leaning against the hot stove, probably.

Then he shifted a bit more and darned if he wasn’t crowding her again.

She looked up, and their gazes held. She had his arm, and that was all the space between them.

“M-Molly, I’ve wanted to—to say . . . thank you. No, that’s not what I wanted to say. Of course, I am thankful, but what I wanted to say is . . .” His voice dropped to a whisper. “W-waking up with you beside me, well, I have to admit I think about it now and then.”

He looked so deeply into her eyes she felt like he could see her mind, her heart, her soul. And she could see his.

Slowly, an inch at a time, plenty of time for her to realize he was too close and realize his intention, he leaned down.

His lips met hers, and he kissed her.

And she most certainly kissed him back.

Just as slowly, just as surely, his arms came around her back. Hers slid up his strong chest and wrapped around his neck.

She vaguely wondered where the wet towel went. But it was gone for a fact. There was no space between them anymore.

One of his hands came up to cradle her face, then slid deeply into her hair. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and she clung to him as if fearing she’d collapse. Her knees were shaky enough she had to wonder.

Like a warning bell, the kitchen door handle rattled.

Wyatt was gone. She blinked her eyes open to see him striding toward the door, yanking it open. Kevin stood outside with Win a pace behind.

“Good. You’re here. You and Win help Molly. I’ve got work.” He squeezed past Kevin and got out before Win got in, and that was the last Molly saw because she whirled away from Kevin, wondering what she looked like. Her cheeks felt flushed. Her lips felt swollen. Was her hair in disarray? Her thoughts certainly were.

She got very busy picking the wet towel up off the floor, then the skillet. She hung both up neatly, giving her face a chance to cool. That wasn’t quite long enough, so she went back to filling the water wells. The stove would keep the water hot, and they’d have a ready supply of it all day.

How long had she been standing here, working in silence when hello or good morning was absolutely called for?

“What do—” Her voice was husky, all wrong. She cleared her throat and forged on. “What do you two have planned for today?”

The wells full, she pulled the large roasting pan out from a cupboard below the sink. Straightening, she glanced behind her all casual-like, trying to think of what she would normally do if Kevin and Win came in, and she wasn’t all woolly-headed from the kiss she’d just shared with Wyatt.

A kiss.

Her first kiss.

Kevin and Win only had eyes for each other, as always, so Molly calmed down—leastways she calmed down about being caught. She’d be a while calming down about being kissed.

“Would you like a cup of coffee? I’ll join you as soon as I get this roast on to cook.”

“I’ll pour it for us, Molly. Your coffee is so much better than mine. I wish I knew how you do it.”

“If we all three have a cup, that’ll drain the pot. I’ll show you how I make it.”

Win smiled. “Thank you, Molly.” And somehow things were normal. Win was bustling around pouring coffee. Molly was focused on her meal, which didn’t take long.

Then they sat at the table and talked like one of them hadn’t just done the stupidest thing she’d ever heard tell of any woman doing in the history of the world.





Eight




His first kiss. He’d really never thought much about kissing.

Well, some.

But honestly, there were no women around. Well, Cheyenne, but she didn’t count.

And Win had lived here off and on for the last few years, but she didn’t count, either.

Neither did Molly. What in tarnation was he thinking?

Kissing Molly, who’d shown clear as glass that she wanted to leave him, had even moved out until they’d near dragged her back. Kissing her had to be the stupidest thing a man had ever done.

And Wyatt wanted to do it again, bad.

The cowhands were so used to running the place without him while he’d been healing up from being shot that they’d spread out to do whatever needed doing without even talking to him.

And he’d have to track them down if he wanted something to do besides go charging back into the house and kissing Molly again. Right in front of her brother this time.

Oh, there was an idea fit to get a man shot.

He’d noticed Kevin, a usually easygoing farmer from Kansas, had a mean streak. Tough man. Protective. Kevin would feel bad if he shot his own brother. It might only be later, long after the gun smoke had cleared, but then he’d feel bad.