Shotgun Vows

“Tilde?” He stepped back so that she could pull the leftovers from the refrigerator. “That funny little sideways squiggle used in words to indicate nasality? Or in logic and mathematics to show negation?”

She was pulling two leftover dishes out, but stopped to shoot him an impatient glance. “I thought you had more to do at work.”

“How’s that?”

“You must have a lot of time on your hands if you can remember such useless, insignificant information. How do you do it?”

“It’s a gift,” he said with a shrug. “But I could ask you the same thing. How do you do it? Training horses is a lot of work.”

She thought about that as she took two plates and put meat, potatoes, gravy and string beans on them, then put them in the microwave to warm. Then she turned to look at him. “I can’t explain it. I just love animals—especially horses. I study their body language and mentally file away their disposition and character. They have traits, you know. Just like people.”

“So you sort of do what I do. Tuck information away in your head. Some of it useless, some of it not,” he said.

Damn the man. He had her there. Aunt Lily was right. Pride did indeed go before a fall. Her mother was right. She should behave like a lady and be gracious. She would eat a lot less crow that way.

“I guess you’re right,” she said as sweetly as possible. “But you’ve had so many more years than I’ve had to gather information. How do you remember it all?”

He folded his arms over his chest. A very impressive chest, she noted with a small surprising flutter of her heart.

“A world-class memory,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. “And fortunately, I’m not ready to take up residence in the geriatric ward yet.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that what you do boggles the mind. I’ve never been very good with numbers myself. I’m in awe of anyone who can make sense of it.”

“A lot of what I do is guesswork and instinct. Just like you,” he said.

She grinned. “But I bet your numbers don’t give you love and affection like my horses do.”

He laughed. “You win that round. But I have no emotional investment in my numbers the way you do your horses. They can’t break my heart.”

She saw a black look in his eyes. A remembered pain? She would have sworn that’s what it was, and in spite of who he was and how he tweaked her temper, she did feel sorry for him.

“Who broke your heart?” she asked, automatically softening her tone as if she were working with one of the horses.

Instantly the vulnerable expression was gone, replaced by a teasing grin. “What makes you think someone broke my heart?”

“Mother says a person doesn’t get through life without some heartbreak. And you’ve lived so very, very long,” she said teasingly. “Surely there are skeletons in your closet.”

“Only on Halloween.”

“Isn’t there a saying in your country—no pain, no gain?”

“I think I’ve heard that one.” He shrugged. “Either I’m emotionally backward, or I’ve managed to gain without the pain part. What about you? Was your mother right? Have you had your heartbreak in the year-and-a-half you’ve been on this earth?”

“Cute. I’m not that young.” What she was was inexperienced, thanks to her brothers. Except for one single, painful episode. But a stampede of determined Texas mustangs couldn’t force her to share the details of that humiliation with him.

“From where I’m standing, you look hardly more than a baby.”

Her back started to rise at his comment, making her want to show him that she was a full-grown woman. Her next thought was that he’d turned the conversation away from himself and back to her. Interesting. The words were spoken in a joking manner, but she sensed currents of emotion in him. Had someone broken his heart? Or was his pain from something else? She instinctively knew that if she asked, he would put her off.

Instead she watched him, mostly his eyes, then noted the tension in his square jaw. Noted also that he was a very good-looking man, in an older, businessman sort of way. Her heart began to beat very fast, and she grew warm all over. She hadn’t felt this way but once, when she had been hardly more than a baby. Barely sixteen, she’d managed to elude her brothers long enough to develop a crush on a boy. The incident was a disaster.

But Dawson was a man—the first she’d ever been alone with as a woman. Surely that was the reason her body responded this way when she was near him. That, and the fact that she was ready to become a woman in every way. She’d been ready for a long time, but she had way too many brothers who took turns never letting their guard down. The explanation for her reaction to this man had to be that simple. Because Mr. Prescott was absolutely not her type.

But one thought struck her above everything else: her uncle Ryan’s comment about his “dynamite” employees. She had a feeling that if she wasn’t careful, this particular very male employee could light her fuse and blow up her whole world.

Two

Dawson helped Mattie set silverware and napkins on the table. When the microwave signaled that the food was warm, she grabbed a pot holder and took the plates to the table. They sat down at a right angle to each other, and she began to shovel food into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten for a month.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked.

“Pardon?” she answered. Her gray eyes—very pretty eyes he couldn’t help noticing—met his gaze. Then she resumed eating.

“You’re going to have indigestion if you don’t slow down.”

“No worries. I’ve got the constitution of an elephant.”

Not exactly the way he would describe her, Dawson thought ruefully. Those legs. He would bet every last penny of his considerable annual bonus that her gams were not thick and wrinkled and gray. If they were, he was sure the knot in his gut would disappear. Considering the size of that knot, he had a heck of a nerve warning her about indigestion. Or anything else for that matter.

He wished he’d never agreed to keep an eye on her. Even Ryan had questioned his excuse for dropping over tonight, but it was the best he could come up with. He had to be here to watch her. Long-distance baby-sitting wouldn’t cut it—Dawson didn’t do anything halfway. Besides, just before he’d left, Griff had reminded him that Clint Lockhart was still loose. He had escaped from prison and eluded all law enforcement efforts. The man had sworn revenge on the Fortunes, and was slippery as an eel. He’d already killed Ryan’s second wife Sophia—who knew what he might do next?

Dawson knew that being a Fortune made Mattie vulnerable to Clint. If anything happened to her because Dawson slacked off, he wouldn’t want to face her brother. But more important, he would never forgive himself.

Suddenly Mattie put her fork down, apparently finished. She stared at him. “Are you one of those anal-retentive people who chew each bite of food twenty-seven times?”

“No,” he said, staring at her. “But I don’t swallow it whole, either.”

“Wouldn’t have figured you for a slow eater. You strike me as the kind of man who has places to go, women to meet etcetera, etcetera.”

“Nope.”

“Really?” She nervously tapped her fingers on the table. “So no one is waiting for you at home?”

“Nope. I’m all yours.”

“Until you finish your dinner.” She rolled her eyes and heaved a huge sigh before glancing at the clock on the stove. She frowned. “You want to hurry it up?”

He looked at his watch. Eight o’clock. He got the feeling she was in a rush. “You going somewhere?”

“No,” she said with a breezy nonchalance that screamed liar. “But it’s getting late. I’ve heard if you eat too much too late at night, you’ll have nightmares. Your body can turn on you if you make it digest all that food when it’s supposed to be resting. Especially when you’re advanced in years. So if I were you, I’d quit eating before you regret it.”

Since when did she care about his digestion? Not only that, but she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What the heck was she up to? “Come clean, Mattie. Tell me what’s going on.”

Before she could answer, Lily Fortune walked into the kitchen.

Dawson envied Ryan. Lily was a lovely woman, and Dawson was glad the two had rekindled their love, which had begun when they were teenagers.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said.