“What makes you think I want to keep a woman?”
“Don’t you get tired of playing the field?”
“The right woman hasn’t come along to make me want to stop.”
Brandee bent forward and slid his mug across the concrete counter toward him, offering a scenic view of the sweet curves of her cleavage. In his day he’d seen bigger and better. So why was he dry-mouthed and tongue-tied watching Brandee fixing breakfast?
“What’s your definition of the right woman?” She slid the plate of pancakes into the oven to keep them warm.
“She can cook.” He really didn’t care if she did or not; he just wanted to see Brandee’s eyes flash with temper.
She fetched a carton of eggs out of the fridge and held them out to him. “I don’t know how to make those disgusting things you eat. So either you eat your eggs scrambled or you make them yourself.”
This felt like a challenge. His housekeeper didn’t work seven days a week and he knew how to fix eggs. “And she’s gotta be great in bed.”
“Naturally.”
He came around the island as she settled another pan on her six-burner stove and got a flame started under it.
“So as long as she satisfies what lies below your belt, you’re happy?” She cracked two eggs into a bowl and beat them with a whisk.
“Pretty much.” Too late Shane remembered that their wager involved her falling in love with him. “And she needs to have a big heart, want kids. She’ll be beautiful in a wholesome way, passionate about what she does and, of course, she’s gotta be a spitfire.”
“That’s a big list.”
“I guess.” And it described Brandee to a tee, except for the part about the kids. He had no idea whether or not she wanted to have children.
“You want kids?”
“Sure.” He’d never really thought much about it. “I was an only child. It would’ve been nice to have a bunch of brothers to get into trouble with.”
Her silk kimono
dipped off her shoulder as she worked, baring her delicate skin. With her dressed like this and her fine, gold hair tucked behind her ears to reveal tiny silver earrings shaped like flowers, he was having a hard time keeping his mind on the eggs he was supposed to be cracking. His lips would fit perfectly into the hollow of her collarbone. Would she quiver as she’d done the evening before?
Silence reigned in the kitchen until Shane broke it.
“Do you do this every day?” He dropped a bit of butter into his skillet.
“I do this most mornings. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and trust me, you’ll burn this off way before lunch.”
Based on the mischief glinting in her eyes, Shane didn’t doubt that. What sort of plan had she devised to torment him today? It was probably a morning spent in the saddle cutting out heavies, the cows closest to their due date, and bringing them into the pasture closest to the calving building.
It turned out he was right. Brandee put him up on a stocky buckskin with lightning reflexes. He hadn’t cut cows in years and worried that he wouldn’t be up to the task, but old skills came back to him readily and he found himself grinning as he worked each calf-heavy cow toward the opening into the next pasture.
“You’re not too bad,” Brandee said, closing the gate behind the pregnant cow he’d just corralled.
She sat her lean chestnut as if she’d been born in the saddle. Her straw cowboy hat had seen better days. So had her brown chaps and boots. The day had warmed from the lower forties to the midsixties and Brandee had peeled off a flannel-lined denim jacket to reveal a pale blue button-down shirt.
“Thanks.” He pulled off his hat and wiped sweat from his brow. “I forgot how much fun that can be.”
“A good horse makes all the difference,” she said. “Buzz there has been working cows for three years. He likes it. Not all the ones we start take to cutting as well as he has.”
Shane patted the buckskin’s neck and resettled his hat. “How many more do you have for today?” They’d worked their way through the herd of fifty cows and moved ten of them closer to the calving building.
“I think that’s going to be it for now.” Brandee guided her horse alongside Shane’s.
“How many more are set to go soon?”