No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) Page 5

  “I’m not looking for commitments. Truthfully, I had wanted to go with artificial insemination and do this alone. But the money I’d saved has been eaten up…by all of this.” She gestured to the plastic strips covering her kitchen entrance. At the other end was a framework of her house where a wall was being torn down to create a family room at the back of the house. Sally shrugged and looked around at her friends. “I guess I figure there must be some guy out there who’s not interested in the long term. Maybe someone I don’t know very well, so it doesn’t get awkward to run into him in town. I don’t know, maybe even someone from out of town.”

  “That could be risky.” Aimee frowned. “No, I don’t like that idea at all.”

  Sally knew her friends meant well, but a team effort hadn’t been in her plans, either. “This is something I need to work out on my own, okay? And I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

  The fresh log in the fireplace snapped, jarring everyone back from the unified silence.

  “So, back to the auction?” Liberty said as she untangled from the blanket to skewer another marshmallow.

  A thumping sound joined the whistling of the wind outdoors, causing them to look at each other. A knock, more urgent sounded at the front door.

  Kaylee stifled a scream.

  Curious as to who could possibly be out in the weather and at this hour, Sally grabbed a candle, and as an afterthought, her umbrella, by the door before she peeked through the peephole.

  A large, dark silhouette stood on the porch. For a moment, she debated opening the door.

  “Sally, open up. It’s Clay Saunders.”

  Sally glanced over and saw her friends huddled together in the arched entrance to the front room.

  “For God’s sake, let the poor man in.” Liberty pointed at the door, pulling Sally from her thoughts.

  She unbolted the lock and the harsh wind snuffed out the candle even before she could open the door completely. Sally narrowed her eyes to the icy pelts of snow following Clay inside. He quickly hustled inside, his presence swallowing the space in the small foyer.

  “Sorry it’s so late. I had to stop and help this guy who’d gotten stuck in a snow drift.”

  He removed his knit hat and swept a gloved hand over his hair, sending icy crystals everywhere.

  “What are you doing out in this?” Sally asked. “Come on in. Here, give me your coat. Come sit by the fire.”

  “I just came by for—that is, I think I might have left my tool belt in the kitchen.”

  “Your tool belt?” Sally asked, hanging up his coat as her friends paraded Clay to the chair closest to the fire.

  Aimee dropped an afghan around his shoulders. Liberty offered him a glass of wine. He accepted the first, declined the second.

  Sally stood in the foyer, unsure of what truck had just run over her.

  “Uh…” Clay stood and shrugged off the blanket. “I remembered that I’d left it here. I might need it this weekend.” He nodded, and then strode through the plastic curtain to the kitchen.

  Liberty leaned over the couch and spoke in a whisper to Sally. “Go talk to him. Ask him to be in the auction.”

  Sally shook her head. Bad idea. With this guy’s volatile temperament, she didn’t feel it wise to put that kind of pressure on him.

  “He’s gorgeous,” Kaylee whispered, staring where he stood beyond the translucent plastic. “Did you see that chest?”

  “Looks aren’t everything,” Sally hissed in a low voice. She’d walked to the back of the couch, facing her friends with a determined stance. Deep down, she wondered if Clay had heard the rumors, or if he, too, bought into them. He didn’t seem the type.

  Aimee tilted her head and gave Sally the fish eye. “He is eligible and we need one more to complete the auction line-up.”

  “He certainly seems to have all the right equipment,” Liberty said, raising a brow.

  Sally stopped the idea with an upturned hand. “He wouldn’t be interested, trust me.” All eyes raised to look past her as she felt the wall of pure male body heat step up behind her. She looked up over her shoulder and smiled.

  ***

  Clay hadn’t realized Sally would be standing in the narrow path between the couch and the kitchen. The roomful of women staring at him, though, had him wondering what...or rather who, they’d been discussing. He was ex-Army. No fear. “Who wouldn’t be interested, and in what?” he asked.

  In the dim light it was difficult to register their expressions, but his gut cautioned that he’d been the topic of their conversation.

  Sally turned quickly on her heel and caught him off-guard as she faced him. She folded her arms over her chest. “We were just saying how you’d probably not be interested in participating in the Spring Buckle Ball charity auction.” Her words all but poked him in the chest with their absolute certainty.

  Ah, yes, the infamous bachelor auction. It didn’t appear that Sally was too thrilled about him being involved. Understandably, given their falling out last fall. Things had been left unresolved, which seemed to suit them both, since they’d barely spoken in the last few months. Time had served to ease some of the tension he’d first felt after arriving at the ranch. And while he had the sense that Sally was the type to forgive the things he’d blurted in his out of control frustration and anger, she quite likely hadn’t forgotten.

  He rubbed his hand over a days’ worth of stubble on his cheek. Not exactly the best-looking example of a bachelor candidate, but maybe not the worst. He thought about what Tyler had mentioned regarding Sally and was curious whether it was true. Not that he was interested. God, no. If true, he thought it was the most cockamamie idea he’d ever heard, not to mention irresponsible and dangerous.

  He cleared his throat, glanced around the room at the indistinguishable faces, then looked down at Sally. Her chin raised in stubborn defiance barely cleared his shoulder, but positioned her tempting mouth at an excellent angle.

  He blinked. He might be her saving grace. The only guy in town who wasn’t trying to audition for her crazy plan. If this gossip kept on the path it was headed, it was clear that every guy in a three-county radius could making life pretty difficult for her. At least, it’s what he told himself before he opened his mouth. “Sure.” He shrugged. “What do I have to do?”

  “Yee haw,” Liberty pumped her fist in the air.

  Clay heard a muffled giggle from the girl Tyler had been eyeing at Dusty’s bar. He brought his gaze back to Sally’s, whose mouth resembled a bass. She stared at him. Maybe he’d spoken too soon, because another thought, far more disturbing, occurred to him. “Okay, wait a second. This isn’t one of those Magic Mike kind of auctions, right?”

  Liberty clapped her hands and uttered a feminine squeal. “What a fabulous idea! That would really pack them in. You should consider that option, Sally.”

  “Liberty?” Sally said. “Seriously?” She tossed her friend a stern look.

  “What? You’ve got to admit. It would certainly liven up things.”

  “No,” Sally repeated as though disciplining a student. She looked at Clay. “No, it’s nothing like that. The annual Montana Buckle Ball is the Business Chamber’s Spring gala, dinner and dance. Apparently a few years back they decided to go from a silent raffle auction to the bachelor auction where we feature some of the area’s finest single men.”

  He held in a smile, wanting to tell her he appreciated the compliment, but he was pretty damn sure she was being muscled-armed into this decision.

  “The proceeds from the auction each year goes to a worthy cause in the area,” Angelique interjected. “This year the Women and Children’s shelter in Billings has been chosen as recipient.”

  “The chamber takes the applicants we’ve suggested, but they must first meet certain criteria before they’re officially accepted.” Sally kept her gaze on his. “Those chosen must agree to be the winning bidder’s date for the remainder of the evening.”

  That was it? If he didn’t know better, it soun
ded as though Sally was making it sound as difficult as possible to go through with this. Which, of course, pissed him off enough to shove that challenge right back at Little Miss Bossy Butt. “I’m in, then. Thank you, ladies.” He purposely avoided eye contact with Sally. He knew his presence in the event had thrown a wrench into her plans, but what the hell. He grinned. He still had to pass muster with the chamber. He looked back, resting his gaze on Sally. “That is, of course, if the chamber approves me.”

  The lights flickered again and suddenly he found himself staring into Sally’s beautiful eyes. Her cheeks, he noted, were noticeably flushed. “I should probably go.”

  “I’ll show you to the door,” she offered in a curt tone.

  “Ladies.” Clay nodded and followed Sally to the foyer. She stood ready, her hand on the doorknob. He couldn’t get his coat zipped up and his gloves on fast enough.

  She opened the door and a rush of icy snow blew in as though blown through the screen by a wind machine. A yelp sounded from the other room even as the pictures hung along the stairwell clattered and fell to the floor.

  Aimee appeared in the entry. “Close that door! Look the snow is blowing in.”

  Sally struggled against the rugged wind and the small drift of snow that edged against the bottom of the door and along the hall toward the back of the house. Snow swirled around her stocking feet. Clay reached out and grabbed the door, shoving it shut with his shoulder. He released a sigh as he leaned against it.

  “Well, you certainly can’t go out in that.” Aimee fisted her hands on her hips.

  Clay wasn’t terribly excited about the prospect either, but one look at Sally’s face gave him pause about the alternatives.

  Liberty appeared at Aimee’s side. “What kind of person would turn someone out on a night like this?” Clay caught Liberty’s not-so-subtle nudge.

  He brushed the snow from where it clung to his eyelashes. “Tyler’s place is just a few blocks from here.”

  Liberty spoke first. “That’s ridiculous. You’re already here, where its safe and warm.”

  The lights flickered once again, then they were plunged into darkness.

  “Seems like we have our answer, then,” Aimee stated. “Sally, he can use the couch, right? Since we’re all bunking upstairs?”

  “Well, yes. I suppose….”

  Clay held up his hand. “Okay, ladies, I have to confess something. Rein asked me to stop by and check in on you. I honestly think, that given the circumstances, he would prefer if I were to stay. Just in case.”

  Small flickers of light began to appear in the sitting room. Kaylee appeared with a candle. “I don’t know about you all, but if there’s a vote, then I say he stays.”

  Clay looked at the floor and chanced a look at Sally. “Only if Sally is comfortable with the idea.” He waited, closely watching her expression.

  “I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.” She reached for the candle Kaylee held and started up the stairs.

  “Sally?”

  She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. She was a damn fine-looking woman in bright daylight, but in candlelight she could stop a man’s heart. “Thank you. I’ll go get some more firewood.”

  She nodded and, without discussion, went upstairs.

  As it turned out, Rein and his brothers were indeed relieved to hear he’d stayed. Not that he was much help, other than to bring in firewood. He sat on a kitchen chair and listened to more about this Buckle Ball.

  Sally’s organizational skills mystified him. She seemed to have the details of this event down to a gnat’s eyebrow and given the willing ladies around her, she wasn’t afraid to delegate, showing the skills of a firm leader. They hadn’t asked much for his thoughts over the next couple of hours, but he was content to drink some orange juice and watch the five friends. Their laughter, inside jokes, and animated conversation reminded him of his squad, and better times.

  Sometime later, the group, now tired, began to drift up the stairs. Sally was the last to go up after checking both the front and back doors. The electricity hadn’t come back on yet, and while the house was chilly, it was tolerable with a layering of clothes.

  “Are you going to be okay on the couch?” she asked as she watched him unfold the blankets she’d brought down.

  He glanced at her and tipped his head toward the blazing fire. “I feel kind of bad that I’ve got this. You sure you ladies are going to be all right up there?”

  “Hey, five women snuggled together in a king bed. We’ll be like bugs in a rug.”

  Clay raised his brows. “Can’t argue with that.” He snapped open another blanket. “Hopefully, the utility company will have the power back up by sunrise.”

  She nodded. “Okay, then. Goodnight.”

  Clay bit his lip in thought, glancing at her departing form. Hell, he had no idea if this was a good time or not, but he spoke before he could consider otherwise. “Sally? Have you got a minute? I wanted to speak with you.”

  She placed her hand on the rail and looked at the steps before she turned to look at him. “It’s been a really long week and I’m beat. Maybe it could wait until another time?”

  Clay shrugged, averting his gaze to hide his disappointment. “Absolutely. It’s not important. You get some rest and thanks again for letting me crash here.”

  He turned his back and tugged his shirt from his jeans as he sat down, shrugging out of his flannel shirt and down to his faded T-shirt with Army across his chest. He considered the wisdom of removing his leg and, laying back on the couch, decided to leave it on. He cradled his hand under his head and propped his good leg over the arm of the couch. Which he realized in short order was a vintage Victorian-type sitting room couch, just barely wider than his torso. He shifted, pulled the blanket over his shoulders and closed his eyes. Dreams—nightmares—mostly, were hit and miss these days, depending on his mood and how much he had to drink before retiring

  “You know, we can move the cushions to the floor and add more blankets to make a more comfortable pallet for you.”

  He opened his eyes and met Sally’s gaze peering down at him from over the camelback couch. “I’m good, really. Just grateful that you chose not to kick me out in this.” He offered her a friendly smile.

  She walked around the end of the couch and knelt to stir the waning fire, bringing it back to a roaring blaze and radiating heat in the small room.

  He sat up as Sally nestled in her overstuffed reading chair and pulled an afghan around her.

  “I want to make this a piano room. Give lessons,” she said as she stared into the fire.

  Curious, he nudged more conversation from her. “I thought you were sleepy?” It seemed clear to him that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him being in her house, or she had a lot on her mind.

  “I am.” She stifled a yawn. “But I can’t sleep.”

  Clay chuckled. “I’d offer to trade you spots, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well.” He cleared his throat and smiled when he heard her quiet laugh. She sat with her chin propped on her hand, staring into the fire.

  “Hey, as long as you’re here, I wanted to clear the air and apologize for some of the things I said that first day on the ranch.” Clay took a deep breath and waited, leaving it open-ended in hopes that she would respond in kind.

  She didn’t.

  He pushed on, feeling it was better to clear the air between them, especially if he became involved with the auction. “That day…well, I was going through a really bad time.” He hated the way it sounded as though he was making excuses for his behavior. Life here had helped him—through self-study, some visits with a doc in Billings, and the work and people at the ranch, he was better able now to understand the triggers to some of his anger issues. His survivor’s guilt still taunted him from time to time, but some of the nightmares had subsided to where he could go one or two nights without a sleep aid.

  “I understand,” she replied, glancing at him. “You don’t need to explain.”
<
br />   That particular response was, in fact, one of his triggers. He swiped his hand over his mouth. That was the thing. Folks back here, most don’t really understand having to look at what was left of your team, your buddies—in pieces—strewn over the sand. Clay swallowed and rubbed his hand over the top of his thigh. He’d forgotten to take some meds to ease the muscle strain of his new leg. “You don’t really understand, Sally. I’m sorry, but not many do, not unless you’ve been there.”

  She looked at him then, with a steady gaze that he couldn’t read.

  “You know I can’t even remember very well what triggered that exchange,” she said, her brows furrowed in thought as she peered at him.

  “You probably didn’t say or do anything out of the ordinary, Sally.”

  She laughed softly. “Yeah, my dad used to say I could be as prickly as a cactus some days.”

  Clay studied her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all have our moments. God knows I’ve had my share.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” She sighed, stood, and dropped her afghan on the chair. She walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, careful, he noted, not to sit too close. “So, let’s just say, that we were both having a bad day and neither one of us meant anything we said.”

  Clay grinned. “You really didn’t mean it when you called me a spoiled brat and I needed to cowboy up?”

  She grinned sheepishly “Damn, I’d hoped you’d forgotten.”

  “I have a good memory. It’s a blessing and a curse,” Clay said. At least they’d made some headway into chipping away at the frozen wall between them. “Honestly, I arrived here carrying a whole lot of self-pity. Everybody was just being friendly, trying to make me feel welcome that first day, and I shut it all out. I didn’t want to feel good. I mistook everyone’s kindness for pity, like I was a charity case.”

  She nodded. “That helps to explain calling me Little Miss Bossy Butt in front of everyone and telling me to mind my own damn business.” She looked up in thought. “And something about not needing anything from some backwoods grade school music teacher—or something along those lines.”

  Clay’s face crumpled into a grimace. “Your memory is pretty good.” He looked down and sighed. “Honestly, you were probably right at the time, calling me out like that.” He looked at her. “I am better—emotionally stronger. Being here at the ranch has helped tremendously. Just feeling productive—moving forward with my life.” He released a sigh. “I think I was in a lot of denial still. Mad at the world in general. If it’s any consolation, Rein, Dalton, and poor Hank, got the brunt of that part of me back then as well. I’m damn lucky for their patience and friendship, that they reminded me of the man they knew as their friend in college.”