Buckhorn Beginnings (25 page)

“Not a thing.”

“Didn't say a word.”

Casey made a show of studying a bird outside the kitchen window.

“Damn irritants,” Morgan muttered. He lifted the suitcase and carried it out of the room. He knew his brothers each had at least a dozen questions, wondering what he was doing mixed up in the middle of Misty Malone's affairs, and why he was the only one privy to her startling news. But he wasn't about to betray her trust any more than he already had. They could just go on wondering.

When Morgan got to the room Misty had been using, he found the bed neatly made and everything very tidy. He pictured her sleeping in that bed last
night, or rather, not sleeping. Just worrying. He'd told her she should leave, and this morning she'd been crying.

His stomach cramped and he idly rubbed his hand over it, but the ache continued. He could easily imagine what she'd been thinking, how she'd felt—how he'd made her feel—and he hated it. She probably hadn't slept at all last night, worrying about what she'd do, worrying about finding a job and about the baby.

A baby, a little person that would look like Misty, with dark hair and big blue eyes… He smiled at the thought, then caught himself and scowled.

What kind of job could a woman with a record get? He didn't know the terms of her probation—he'd have to ask her about that—but he knew it wouldn't sit well with an employer, especially not when she'd supposedly stolen from the last guy who'd hired her. Would she be able to earn enough to take care of herself and a baby?

She was certainly stubborn enough to make it work somehow, but she had a hard road ahead of her. And that route wasn't even necessary.

Morgan considered things for a moment, then came to some decisions. He opened her suitcase, emptied it on the bed, took the case to his room and shoved it under his bed. If she wanted to try sneaking out again, he wouldn't make it easy for her. At least until he knew she had a decent plan. Then, he told himself, he'd let her go.

He also intended to do a little investigating. Get
ting the details of the theft wouldn't be hard, and then he'd make his own conclusions.

He felt like a warlord, holding her against her will, but damn it, it was only stubborn pride that had her wanting to leave in the first place. That and his big mouth. He had the feeling if he hadn't asked her about leaving, if he hadn't pushed her, she'd have stayed on for a while, using the time to make new plans. She had a lot to deal with, and until he'd started harassing her, she'd probably seen this as an ideal situation, a place to regroup and be with her sister without anyone knowing what had happened.

Except that she'd told him everything. He took immense satisfaction in that small success, discarding the fact that he'd bullied the information out of her. Misty wouldn't have told him if she hadn't trusted him at least a little.

He remembered stories of her father that Honey had shared. That man wasn't one to coddle or offer comfort, so Morgan had no doubt she hadn't even tried going to him for help. According to Honey, neither of them was overly close to the man, and with good reason.

Everything would work out, he was certain of it.

On his way to the kitchen Morgan passed the family room and was brought up short by a disgruntled,
“He hates me.”

Morgan stalled, his heart jumping, his muscles pulled tight. He waited, eavesdropping like a maiden aunt to hear what Honey would say in reply.

Her soft voice was soothing, just as Morgan had known it would be. “Morgan doesn't hate you, Misty.
He kept you here because that's just how they all are. They're a little on the gallant side, and Morgan wants to protect you.”

There was a rough, disbelieving laugh. “Right. If you say so.”

Morgan could tell she didn't believe her sister and he pulled his hands into fists. Even his toes cramped. Hate her? Hell, no. What he felt was as far from hatred as it could get, and a whole lot steamier than that cold emotion. He wanted to devour her, to make love to her for a week so he could get her out of his system.

He hated the effect she had on him, but he didn't hate
her.

“I do say so,” Honey insisted. “I know them all better than you do.”

“It doesn't matter what Morgan thinks or how he feels about me, Honey. The point is, I didn't mean to intrude on you. The last thing you need right now is to start worrying about me.”

“There, you see? I won't worry as long as you're around so I can see you're doing okay. Morgan probably knew that, too.”

Morgan lifted his brows. Sounded good enough to him, though thoughts of Honey hadn't much entered into his mind while he was trying to think of ways to keep Misty around.

“But…” Misty floundered, then insisted, “I need to get back to work. I can't just stay here indefinitely.”

Morgan hustled through the doorway before Misty could convince Honey that she should leave.
He surveyed both women cozied up on the couch, and Misty's eyes widened in alarm.

There was no way for him to reassure her right now, so he didn't bother trying. He'd already given her his word that he wouldn't tell about her stint with the law. It wouldn't hurt her to trust him just a bit.

He got right to the point. “I heard you mention your job.”

“Morgan.” Her tone said she'd kill him if he said one more word.

The threat didn't worry him. After all, the woman had hurt her hand just smacking him in the stomach. And she had shared her secrets with him, which he chose to see as a sign of trust whether she realized it or not. “I have a solution.”

Misty moaned again. He noticed she'd been doing a lot of that lately.

Undaunted, he held up his hands and pronounced, “You're going to come to work for me.”

 

M
ISTY STARED
at Morgan, wondering what he was up to now. Somehow, in the short time it had taken her to shower, he'd done something to her car so it wouldn't start, shaved so that he looked refreshed and ready to take on the day instead of looking like a dark savage, and he'd pulled on more clothes.

She was eternally grateful for the clothes part.

Even when he made her so mad she wanted to club him on top of his handsome head, she couldn't seem to ignore him. The man filled up the space around her with his size, his scent, his pushy presence. When he was there, he was really there, and
she doubted any sane woman would be oblivious to him, especially not when he was flaunting his bare, muscled chest.

Morgan had the type of body that had always secretly appealed to her. He was tall and powerful and immeasurably strong—but he could be so gentle.

She shook her head. Just because he distracted her didn't mean she'd let him off the hook. What she'd most wanted
not
to happen he'd made sure
had
happened. Never mind that she was now in the situation she'd originally wanted, with a safe place to stay, close to her sister.

How the circumstance had come about was totally unfair—and all Morgan's fault. Honey deserved some carefree time, but now she'd worry endlessly. Honey had a horrible tendency to mother her, a habit she'd gotten into because their mother had died long ago and their father was so cold and undemonstrative. Though Honey was only slightly older, she'd taken the big-sister role to heart.

She'd have told Honey the whole story eventually, of course, because they didn't keep secrets from each other. But not now, not when Honey had just gotten married and found so much happiness. It wasn't fair to drop such a burden in her lap.

She should have choked Morgan instead of punching him in his rock-hard middle, she thought, surveying his dark frown. But judging by his thick neck, that wouldn't have done him much damage, either. The man was built like a pile of bricks and was just as immovable.

And now he'd offered her a job. Or more precisely, he'd demanded she take a job.
With him.

He hadn't precisely told Honey that Misty didn't have a job anymore. No, he'd made it sound as if he was only offering her an alternative so she could stick around. Did that mean he'd been sincere when he'd promised not to tell anyone about the rest of her troubles? God, she hoped so. It was all too humiliating, and though she knew Honey would believe her innocent, she had no idea how the others would feel.

Being pregnant was one thing; she wanted the baby and couldn't really regret its existence. And the brothers had been very accepting about the whole thing—almost cavalier, in fact. But surely they wouldn't want a jailbird in their home. She felt sick at the idea of them finding out.

“I already have a job,” she stated forcefully, when Honey gave her a nudge for sitting there and staring.

Morgan lifted one brow and proceeded to settle himself into the stuffed chair adjacent to the couch. Contrary to how Misty felt, he looked at his ease and without a care in the world. His dark blue eyes were direct, unflinching.

“Now Malone,” he said easily, “you were just telling me that you hate that job, that you planned to look for something else. Why not look here, so you can be close to your…family?”

“I never—” Misty bit her lip, stopping her automatic protest in midsentence. How could she dispute his enormous lie without telling the actual truth? He'd cornered her, and he knew it.

After clearing her throat, she smiled sweetly. It
always worked for Honey. “I never meant to imply
you
should give me a job.”

Morgan waved his hand in dismissal. Apparently the big ape was immune to her smile. “Of course you didn't. I know that. You'd never hint around that way. You're much too…up-front and honest for that.” His eyes glittered at her and he added, “But I want you to take the job.”

She glanced at Honey, saw no help there and resolutely shook her head. “No.”

“How can you refuse when you don't even know what the job is yet?”

Through set teeth, she growled, “What is the job?”

Morgan actually smiled, which put her even more on edge. “I need an assistant. Someone to act as sort of a secretary and a dispatcher, when necessary. No, don't look like that. You won't need special training. Buckhorn is a small county and we do things just a bit differently. You'd need to take calls, keep track of where I am and forward on the important ones, but make notes for the ones that can wait. Mostly just for mornings and afternoons. Your evenings will be free, and just think, you can spend more time with Honey.”

Honey leaned forward in her seat, already excited by the prospect. “Morgan, that's a great idea!” To Misty, she said, “It only makes sense, Misty, for you to be with family now. This is no time to let your pride get in the way.”

“Of course it isn't,” Morgan agreed.

Honey sighed. “Didn't I tell you he was wonderful?”

Misty almost choked, especially when she glanced at Morgan and saw his amusement. She thought she might throw up again. She drew a deep breath and tried to sound reasonable. “I don't know anything about working for a sheriff…”

“I'll tell you everything you need to know, sweetheart.”

There was only so much she could take and remain composed. “I am not,” she said in lethal tones, “your sweetheart.”

Honey patted her hand. “They all use endearments, so you might as well get used to it. I swear, at first I thought they knew my name before I'd even given it to them. Then I realized everything female is a sweetheart or a honey to these guys, even the hodgepodge of animals Jordan keeps around.” Honey gave Morgan a fond smile. “They're very old-fashioned in a lot of ways.”

Under her breath, Misty muttered, “You mean they're overbearing, macho, autocratic—”

“What's that, Malone? I couldn't quite hear you.” Morgan looked ready to laugh.

“Not a thing.” She stood, and both Honey and Morgan came to their feet, too, as if they thought she might topple over at any moment. Good grief, she wasn't even showing yet. “I'll think about the job, Morgan.”

He gave her a slow nod, looking at her from his superior height in a way that made her feel downright tiny. “That's fine. But make it quick, okay? I need you to start tomorrow.”

Her eyes widened. She didn't want to start to
morrow! She didn't want to start at all. If anything, she hoped to make some solid plans tomorrow that would appease everyone so she could be on her way. “But…”

“Will you, Misty? Please?” Honey hugged her close, and Misty had no choice but to return the embrace. Since meeting Sawyer, her sister was deliriously happy and she wanted everyone else to feel the same. Over Honey's shoulder, Misty glared at Morgan. He winked at her, the obnoxious brute.

Misty pushed her sister away slightly and drummed up a reassuring smile. “Why don't you go have breakfast with that new husband of yours? I want to discuss this…job, with Morgan.”

“But you haven't even told me about the baby yet, or how far along you are, or anything!”

Misty thought about moaning again, but with Morgan watching her so closely, she held it in. To her surprise, he took Honey's arm and said, “One thing at a time, hon, okay? If she takes the job and sticks around, you'll have all the time in the world to chat.”

It was obvious Honey didn't want to, but she finally agreed to leave. She gave Morgan a warning look on her way out that had Morgan chuckling in a deep rumble.

Misty saw nothing funny in the situation, but he didn't give her a chance to light into him. No sooner was Honey gone from the room than he walked to her and said, “I told you I won't say a word about the job or the conviction. You have my word on that.”

It was as if he'd deliberately taken away her steam.
But Misty had more than one grievance and she was nowhere near ready to give up her anger. “Why should I believe you?”