Seduction, Cowboy Style

How could she expect him not to blame Cal?

A stinging sensation in his palms made him realize he was standing in the middle of the barn, clutching the wheelbarrow handles so tightly he was in danger of splitting the skin. With vicious force, he slammed open the door of the next stall and started shoveling the soiled straw.

As he put his back into the work, a pair of striking gray eyes floated across his mind, and he seized the opportunity to distract himself. With deliberate attention to detail he called up his memories of the pretty woman with whom he’d collided: full breasts; that too-wide, sexy mouth that had made him want to taste-test it; long, slender legs that were poured into her city girl jeans just right…. What in hell was a fine thing like that doing with Cal McCall?

Three hours later the morning chores were done. Marty’s daughter, Cheyenne, was running a fever, and Marty couldn’t go to the feed store as he’d planned, so Deck climbed into the truck and took off for town. He would swing by the feed store and then pick up the antibiotic the doctor had called in for Cheyenne.

It was a blindingly sunny spring day, and the alfalfa already was tall enough to ripple in a mild breeze. He jammed his hat firmly on his head and drove with the windows down, fingers drumming on the wheel in tempo with Garth Brooks on the radio.

There were a few other trucks in the feed store parking lot when he pulled in. As he slammed the door of the Ford and took the two steps to the front porch of the store in one stride, Stumpie Mohler nodded from his seat in the single rocking chair set amid the barrels and sacks.

“Morning, Stumpie.”

“Morning, Deck. What can we do for you today?”

Deck just looked at him. What the heck did Stumpie think he needed…ice cream? “Feed.”

Stumpie cackled. He’d been a cowhand until three years ago when he’d gotten an arm smashed by a bull and had to have it amputated. Sev Andressen, who owned the feed store, had employed him since then, although it was a standing joke in the community that Sev was paying Stumpie to keep the seat of that rocking chair warm.

“Ain’t gonna get hot enough to work up a good sweat,” the little man proclaimed. Then he cleared his throat ostentatiously. “You heard the news?”

Deck considered. “On the way in here, I heard there’s no rain in sight. And I heard the school board’s considering a tax increase and there’s a new crisis in the Middle East.”

Stumpie hawked and spat into a cup he’d set nearby. “Naw, that ain’t nothing compared to my news.”

He wasn’t going to get out of here without hearing what Stumpie had to say. Deck shook his head, and planted his butt on one of the barrels that lined the rail. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

Stumpie paused and his face registered consternation. “Aw, heck, you ain’t going to be happy when you hear this. It’s a good thing you’re sitting down.”

Deck crossed his arms and waited.

“Word has it you saw Cal McCall in town yesterday.”

Deck nodded. Life in a small town was a pain in the ass sometimes. “‘Word’ has it right. So?”

“He’s bought back his daddy’s place.”

It was a struggle not to show the shock that ripped through his composure. Deck dropped his gaze to the weathered gray boards of the flooring beneath him. One…two… He counted ten nails before he could trust himself to speak. “Is that all?”

“Nope.” Stumpie shook his head, eyeing Deck with wary fascination. “He was in here this morning, asking about ordering feed. Told Sev he done quit his New York job and he’s coming back for good.”

Deck registered the facts. McCall had worked in New York. His lip curled. A city boy. Figured. And he was planning to live here. “Thanks for the news flash,” he said. Rising from the barrel, he headed for the door of the store to give Sev his order.

Not for anything would he let anyone see how the news had shaken him. McCall back here for good? And living on the ranch where he’d grown up? His boots hammered the floor with unnecessary force as he approached the counter where Sev was doing something on a little computer he’d recently installed.

“Morning, Deck.” The big, burly man took one good look at him and added, “I see Stumpie’s already broadcast the news.”

“Yep.” Deck fished in his pocket for the list he’d made. The mares needed some special oats, and Marty had added a few other things as well.

Sev took the piece of paper. “Guess it brings back some sad memories for you.”

“I can think of ones I’d like better.” Deck gestured to the list. “You got everything?”

“Yeah. I’ll help you load it.” He strode around the counter to the front door. “Stump, get in here and cover the phone while I load Deck.”

“You betcha,” came the reply. The little man hustled in the door as Sev led the way out.

With Sev’s help the loading took no time. Ten minutes later Deck was bumping across the gravel street that led to the drugstore.

But when he approached the counter, the pharmacist shook his head apologetically. “It’ll be a few more minutes, Deck. Sorry. It’s been one of those mornings.”

So he cooled his heels wandering around the drugstore while he waited for the prescription. He was standing in front of the magazine rack when someone else came around the nearest corner and he glanced up automatically.

It was Silver Eyes! The woman from the grocery store. Cal McCall’s woman. She stopped dead when she saw him blocking her path.

Today she was wearing black jeans with a white sleeveless shirt that dipped low in the front, showing smooth tanned skin that swelled gently as it disappeared behind the barrier of the fabric. Her eyes were as luminous and bright as they’d been the previous evening as she returned his gaze. Then one corner of her mouth quirked.

“We really must stop meeting in the aisles like this.” Her smile widened, and her eyes warmed with amusement. She put out a hand. “I’m Silver Jenssen.”

Deck looked down at the slim hand she extended. What would her bare skin feel like? Would she be as soft and silky as she looked? He realized she was still standing before him with her hand out, so he slowly put out his own hand and grasped hers.

Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined. No, softer. Her hand was much smaller than his and her skin was smooth as silky fabric. He brushed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. She was staring at him but those pretty eyes looked puzzled and her smile began to fade. He realized he was staring at her again, just like yesterday. And she was waiting for an answer to her friendly gesture.

“Deck Stryker.” He cocked his head to one side. “Silver for the eyes?”

She nodded. “My mother has them, too. I was going to be named Paula after my father, Paul, but Mama said she knew the minute I opened my eyes that I was Silver.” She grimaced. “Thank heavens. I can’t imagine being named Paula.”

Silver suited her better. He still held her hand. “You’re new in town.”

Her expression altered again, warming. He’d have to try harder to act like a normal human being. Then again, she belonged to McCall so why did it matter what she thought of him?

“Yes, I am,” she said. “I’m just visiting, though, for a month or two.”

“You have family here?” If she’d ever been to Kadoka before, he was positive he’d remember her. And he was dying to know how she’d gotten hooked up with McCall.

She tugged discreetly at her hand, and he let her go reluctantly. “My brother used to live here,” she said. “He just moved back to town.”

“Your brother?” He felt like somebody had hit him right over the head with a two-by-four. Kadoka was a tiny little town. It wasn’t possible that two of its own were returning to live at the exact same time. Which meant…she was Cal’s sister. She was a McCall? But she’d said her name was Jenssen. His mind raced. He’d grown up with Cal and he’d never seen hide nor hair of a sister.

But it was coming back to him now.

No, he’d never seen her, but he knew Cal had a sister. His mama had left his daddy when Cal was still a baby and gone back East to her family. Cal and his daddy stayed on the prairie, and the mother had married some fancy Virginian. This mouthwatering morsel must be the half sister Cal had mentioned from time to time.

She was speaking, and he forced himself to attend to what she was saying.

“…probably know my brother. Cal McCall? I came for a few weeks to help him get the house cleaned up and organized.” She paused. “Is Deck short for something? It’s an unusual name.”

“Deckett,” he told her. “My middle name, my mother’s before she married.”