Rustler's Heart Page 9

  Rein’s mind darted back to the night and that kiss. His body tightened at the memory of her mouth on his, the taste of her lips, how she’d clung to him. And had taunted him. Such news would likely create a ruckus that none of them needed right now, not with Wyatt and Aimee preparing to go on their honeymoon. Besides, it wasn’t anything that he couldn’t handle as long as he kept his wits about him.

  “Listen, everything’s going to be fine. You guys go on your honeymoon and don’t worry about things here.”

  Wyatt nodded. “I have no doubt that you guys can handle the ranch. I guess maybe seeing how much Liberty’s helped Aimee these past few days and all her help with the wedding and the reception, I think Jed would have welcomed her just like he did us.”

  Rein waved his brother off the trunk and tossed the brush in. “Suspect you’re right about that.”

  “Aimee indicated Liberty’s old boyfriend—her boss—I understand, is a real piece of work. Course, I don’t expect it’s ever a good idea to get involved with your boss, but she’s young and she’ll learn. She ever talk to you about her past, or her father?”

  Rein shrugged. “Not really. Just that they didn’t get along. Guess there’s a lot we don’t know about her. Maybe I’ve been thinking more about that due to Aimee’s condition, you know?” Rein took a deep breath and finally met Wyatt’s eyes. He’d been pouring out one excuse after another, trying to convince himself that he had no interest in their little sister. And the comment about not messing around with the boss? Yeah, that didn’t settle too well inside him, either.

  “You let me worry about Aimee and the baby. Maybe you can get Liberty to open up to you.” He slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re going to have your hands full between her and Dalton. They’re two of a kind in some ways.”

  Rein followed his brothers departing form. Yet another thing to add to his list of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with Liberty.

  ***

  “Miss? Miss? Could I get a refill on my water?” She glanced up and caught Dalton’s ornery grin. She ripped off the customers receipt and left it at the table.

  “Tell Betty we love the new look,” the woman remarked.

  “I will thank you.” Liberty sauntered over to Dalton, grabbing a water pitcher from one of the old cupboard stations set up around the room. Tempted to pour it over his head, she picked up his glass and eyed him. “You figure out what you’re going to order yet? You can’t just sit here and razz me without ordering.”

  “Never bothered, Betty.” Dalton gave her a wink.

  “Who cooks your food?” She raised her brow and glanced outside. “Rein working again?”

  Dalton studied the menu. “Yeah, he stayed up working all night in cabin three again, trying to get the kitchen cabinets installed. This new menu is great, but I don’t recognize the names anymore.”

  “It’s part of Betty’s plan to spruce things up and bring in tourists.” Liberty’s mind was elsewhere, envisioning Rein, in his t-shirt and jeans and that damn baseball cap he wore when he worked, sweating over his sander.

  “Which, by the way, looks fantastic,” Dalton replied. “I like what you’ve done with the place. The antique sideboards and those antler chandeliers really give it a rustic elegant look. Rein would be impressed.”

  She glanced at him offering a short laugh. “Yeah, I bet he would.”

  “Listen, is this Montana Burger any good?”

  “We are talking Betty here, you understand.”

  “Make it two, and hang on to the fries. Need to save room for dessert. Rebecca bring in any fresh pie today?”

  Liberty nodded, wondering if she could impress Rein with anything she did. So far, nothing had worked. “I’ll check to see what’s left.”

  She took his menu and started to leave.

  “Don’t let him get to you, Liberty.”

  “Who?” she lied.

  Dalton tipped his head, pinning her with a look that said he knew better. “Rein. He can be a stubborn old coot. He’s dealing with wanting to get things in before winter, and I think maybe his pride might be a little bruised that Wyatt didn’t discuss the idea of you working together before he brought it up in front of everyone.”

  She shrugged. “I understand. You think in time, he’ll come around then?”

  Dalton nodded. “Sure. Hey, I know. Why don’t we all head over to Dusty’s on Friday night. We could play some pool and have a couple of beers. I want to introduce my little sis around.”

  Liberty’s heart warmed with belonging. She bit the corner of her lip to keep from letting her eyes well. “We’ll see how things are around here, ok? Betty might need me to work late.”

  “Sure.” He grinned, and then added. “If you got it, Rein’s favorite is pecan pie.”

  Did Dalton see something more that she hadn’t been able to regarding Rein? She didn’t feel comfortable yet opening up about her feelings regarding Rein. Besides, if she left, was there anything really to discuss? But Aimee’s plea for her to stay until the baby was born, to help Betty, and the kindness of the folks in this small town had gotten under her skin. The only thing still causing a burr in her side— Rein Mackenzie.

  ***

  She’d forgotten how much she loved the music. Liberty sat in a booth opposite of Dalton, nursing her bottle of beer, her attention diverted from watching the front door each time a young woman stopped by to say hello to her handsome half-brother. “Do you know every woman in this state?” She regarded Dalton’s dark eyes, the same as Wyatt’s and hers, she noted. His grin displayed a cocky pride.

  “Montana’s a big state. I’ve barely started.”

  She chuckled at his attitude. Clearly, from the number of folks who’d stopped by the table—male and female—that the Kinnison’s were well known and liked, it appeared.

  “Hey, sorry about the game. Had no idea they had a tournament going on.” His smile widened. “You don’t want to get in on that action, by chance?”

  She held her hand up, halting the idea. “No, no. I haven’t played in a quite a while. I’m a little rusty. But I’ll challenge you one of these days. Maybe after I’ve had some time to practice.”

  “Yeah.” He picked up his beer and looked around. “If you think it will help you.”

  One of the girls Liberty worked with at Betty’s appeared at the booth with a tray of fried dill pickles that Dalton had ordered.

  “I didn’t know you worked here,” Liberty acknowledged the young woman.

  “I’m filling in as a favor. The tournament brought in more people than they expected tonight. Dusty called over to Betty’s to see if she could spare some help. It’s a little extra income for me. Will there be anything else?” She addressed Dalton with a smile.

  “Keep the tab running,” he said and dropped a five on her tray. He lifted his hand and waved at a beautiful dark haired woman across the room. “Liberty, would you excuse me a moment. There’s someone I haven’t seen since last Christmas.”

  She waved him away and smiled as her co-worker cleared away empty bottles from the table next to them. “You suppose he could use more help? I’m pretty good behind a bar.”

  “I don’t know, I can ask. He sure looks as though he could use the help.”

  She drained her beer and nodded. “Let’s go see.” If nothing else, it would keep her mind off other matters—namely her obsession with whether Rein Mackenzie would possibly come walking through that door. The crowd at the bar was at least three people deep. They had to push their way through the mass to find a spot where they could squeeze behind the bar.

  “Hey Dusty, this is Liberty Kinnison.” The girl stated.

  Liberty started to correct her, but felt it pointless given the din of the bar.

  “You can call me Liberty.” She leaned forward and shouted. “Looks like maybe you could use a hand.”

  “You know your way around a bar?”

  She nodded. “Trained with some of the best out in Vegas.”

  He tossed her
a towel. “You’re hired.”

  That, as they say—was that. The waitress ducked back in the kitchen. Liberty faced a thirsty crowd.

  “You know how to make a Hurricane?” Dusty asked.

  “Coming up.” She began choosing the bottles and in short time, had memorized most of them and found her rhythm, taking orders with ease. She enjoyed the lively bar. The patrons were friendly, the jukebox blasted out a blend of classic and country rock and she found herself laughing as she danced around the cook and cut up with Dusty behind the bar.

  She glanced up to find Dalton back at the booth, joined now by Sally. She thought of Rein working alone at the ranch, bent over the sawhorse, the sweat on his muscular arms glistening as he pushed the blade through the wood. He probably wore one of his standard issue grey t-shirts, which he must have a million of, and had that idiotic tool belt wrapped around his lean hips. She closed her eyes and leaned a hand on the counter.

  “You okay?” Dusty asked. She took a deep breath and with a nod, struggled to reel in her thoughts. That kiss, the way Rein had looked at her that night like he wanted to consume her was seared into her memory and she feared, into her heart as well. She’d tried to convince herself that it didn’t matter—he didn’t matter. Hell, he didn’t even think she should stay, or at least he hadn’t tried to get her to change her mind when she mentioned leaving. It seemed that only Wyatt and Aimee, even cynical Dalton that wanted her to stay.

  She chuckled to herself. Maybe Rein was right, maybe she did want what she couldn’t have. She blew out a sigh, redirecting her thoughts and decided to give the folks at End of the Line a little taste of what she’d learned in Vegas.

  She pulled out all the stops and began to show off her skills—tossing bottles behind her back, performing feats of balance and jaw-dropping stunts as she concocted drink requests from the delighted crowd. She enjoyed the fast pace, and would have pursued the profession had Angelo not insisted that she made more money on the stage than behind the bar. But what she’d learned under the wing of the bartenders at the club was the social skills required to be a top-notch bartender. As such, it didn’t take her long to learn the names of the locals and what they preferred to drink.

  Numbers around the bar had increased, pressing in with applause and smartphone flashes taking her picture. Between the chants and the wicked music, Liberty realized the people wanted a show. She glanced at Dusty who stood grinning from ear-to-ear as he watched from the other end of the bar. She had the place in the palm of her hand. With a toss of a bottle, she spun on her heel, catching it in time to the music, holding it precariously high above the martini shaker. More whistles and a slow chant of “go Liberty” erupted, fueling her confidence. One last ingredient left. With a grin, she grabbed the bottle and slung it in a sweeping arch over her head. The move, though tricky, she’d practiced over and over until she’d perfected it to her standards. The idea being that she’d bump the bottle upward with her shoulder and catch it in her other hand.

  The bar community in a singular voice rose in a deafening chorus of “ah” as she looked up seeing the bottle sailing high overhead. She glanced over the sea of bodies and saw Dalton seated at the end of the booth, his wide grin showing his pride. Sally sat across from him, her eyes wide, hands wrapped around her drink. Then her gaze slammed into Rein’s stormy blue eyes. He wore no expression as he watched. She might as well have been invisible. She missed the catch and to the unified disappointment of the patrons, the bottle crashed to the floor. Humiliated, she stared at the mess and finally shook her head.

  Dusty nudged her arm with a broom. “Better luck next time. You’re pretty damn good, kiddo.”

  “Yeah.” Embarrassed, but more frustrated than anything that one look from Rein Mackenzie could discombobulate her, she set to cleaning up the glass.

  “Hey, hot shot.” Dalton leaned over the counter and looked down at her. “When you’re finished, come on back to the table. I’ll buy you a beer.”

  She wasn’t about to give Rein the opportunity to further dig into her, especially in front of his ex. Liberty swept up the shards, trying her best to stay out of Dusty’s way. She felt suddenly conspicuous, as though she had “outsider” emblazoned on her forehead. No one had said anything to make her feel as much, it’d been engrained in her.

  Making her feel like an outcast had been her father’s favorite head game. After her mother died, he told her she’d been an accident, her mother’s greatest disappointment and he eventually blamed her for her mother’s suicide.

  Liberty had found her after returning home from a night out with friends. Dropping her bag on the pristine white couch, she noticed the unusual quiet, but surmised her mom might be at her spin class or out shopping. She grabbed a glass of ice water and sauntered past the master bedroom, peeking in just in case her mother should still be sleeping.

  Stunned by what she saw, she didn’t feel the glass slip from her hands, until it shattered on the stone tile floor. Her mother lay in her nightgown, sprawled across the bed. A vodka bottle and her sleeping pills container empty beside her. She’d left no note, no good-byes, and no apologies. But Liberty knew why. The mistakes of her mother’s past—one that included leaving Jed and her boys—and the torture of her abusive husband that had driven her to this extreme. She’d been forbidden to speak of her sons. It wasn’t permitted. But in private, her mother had shown her a box that she’d kept hidden.

  The night Liberty left, she tucked those mementos, including a letter addressed to her sons, in her duffle bag. It had the ranch’s address, but hadn’t been sent. Liberty read it on the bus. Their mother had written to tell them they had a half-sister and the choice of her words made her wonder if her mother still loved Jed. Whether true or not, it was evident that she still cared and appreciated him for adopting her sons. She knew he’d take care of them better than she’d been able to give them most of their lives.

  Liberty hadn’t shown the letter to Wyatt and Dalton yet. She’d been waiting for the best time. Despite Eloise’s regrets and her confession to Liberty that she’d made some poor choices, didn’t mean that her sons would automatically accept and trust Eloise’s daughter. She finished cleaning up and apologized again to Dusty. “I’m really sorry about the mess. I’d like to pay to replace the liquor.” Dusty dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand.

  “Hey, it can happen on a slow night. You’re always welcome here. Might be fun to have you doing your thing during the holidays.” Dusty said. “That’s when we really pull in a load of people, with families visiting and what not.

  “Aimee started up an annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser to restock the food pantry. We hope she’ll be able to spearhead another one this year, but we’ll have to see with the baby and all. Anyway,” he continued, wiping down the bar, “come on by, if you’re still around. Might be fun and it’s for a good cause.”

  “Thanks, Dusty. I’ll think about it.” She walked up to the table, aware that Rein and Sally were engaged in something of a private joke. She tapped Dalton on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m beat, would you mind taking me home?”

  Dalton took one look at her and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

  “I’ll drive.” She held out her hand for the keys. With a frown, he relinquished them.

  “Are you sure you won’t stay for one drink?” Sally asked.

  Rein studied the bottle he twirled slowly between his hands. He didn’t look at, much less speak, to her.

  “Another time, maybe, thanks. Night, Rein.” She forced out a civil goodbye.

  He glanced up with a quick nod, and then looked at his brother. “I’ll be home soon.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Boy, you could have cut the tension between the two of you with a butter knife. What’s going on?” Sally shifted in her seat and gave Rein her don’t-give-me-any-crap-teacher look.

  He took a pull of his beer, and eyed her. “You probably hadn’t heard yet, but Miss Liberty has requested that I steer clear of her.”


  Shock registered on her face. “What on earth…why?” Her gaze narrowed. “Rein Mackenzie, what did you say to her?”

  He thought before he responded. He didn’t need another female lambasting him just now and if he told Sally the truth, she’d be all over him. As if he hadn’t already been battling the guilt of what he’d said to Liberty and how poorly he’d handled things between them. But that unexpected, explosive kiss scared the daylights out of him, and its intensity caused him to react in an attempt to protect her—to keep her as far from him as possible.

  Hell, given another minute, he’d have likely taken her right there on the floor. Awkward as things now were, it had worked, except for the tormented dreams he’d been having all week. He tried to justify his pent-up frustration by searching for other things to find distasteful about her. Anything that might help put his lust in better perspective. “You ever notice she hasn’t opened up a bank account? That she pays cash for everything. She’s never asked for a dime from any of us, that I know of. Don’t you find it a little peculiar?”

  “She’s working,” Sally remarked dryly. “And had probably saved up something from her work in Vegas.”

  His mind raced trying to figure out how much a dancer of Liberty’s persuasion would make at a successful nightclub. No doubt, she’d garner plenty of tips with that body. His imagination leapt to her in a G-string, strutting across a stage in four-inch heels, those long legs encased in thigh high stockings. In the process, oblivious to present reality, he missed his mouth, sending a steady stream of beer down the front of his shirt. “Dammit, now see what you made me do?”