Cowboy Accomplice Part 7

To his surprise, she was dressed and standing at the cookstove. Nothing appeared to be on fire. In fact, she seemed to have breakfast almost ready.

He'd taken a little extra time to give her a chance to get up and dressed. After saddling his horse, he rode the perimeter of the camp looking for any sign that he and his crew might not be alone up here.

He found none. No tracks. No sign of a newly used campfire ring. No sign of a spot where a tent might have been erected. He hadn't realized how long he'd been gone.

Since he'd planned to cook something simple when he returned, he hadn't worried. He never expected to see Reggie cooking. Especially over a stove where there was no flaming food.

Cooking was supposed to have been punishment for Reggie. The last thing he wanted was to see her looking competent at that cookstove, to see her looking as if she belonged here.

He checked out the pancakes she had going on the griddle. They actually looked like pancakes. She also had some ham and bacon fried up on the back of the stove. It wasn't even burned.

He glanced at the lower bunk. She'd picked up all the canned goods and supplies around it.

She followed his gaze and seemed to blush. "I was practice-cooking, all right?"

"Practice-cooking?" he echoed.

"I read the recipes off the backs of the bags, cans and boxes of food. Then I practiced preparing a few dishes. That's all."

That's all? In the lantern light, he could see an array of freshly cleaned pots and pans on the counter in the kitchen. That's why she smelled of dish soap this morning. He couldn't help but smile.

"What's so funny?"

He shook his head. He knew he must be looking at her as if she'd just single-handedly forged a mission to Mars. He couldn't help it. Nor would he have been more surprised.

Why would she stay up half the night reading recipes off the backs of containers and practice-cooking when he'd fired her and by lunchtime she was out of here? He sobered. This woman's persistence knew no boundaries.

He felt his dread deepening and told himself that Buck would return by early afternoon at the latest and Reggie would just be a memory. One he wouldn't soon forget.

"Do you mind if we didn't have eggs this morning?" she asked.

All he could do was shake his head. Earlier he'd thought of things he wanted to say to her but they'd all flown right out of his head. He just stood looking at her, overwhelmed by the woman's doggedness, but grudgingly impressed. She was truly a babe in the woods but she was trying so hard, he had to admire her grit.

"Here, I brought you this," he said holding out the balm.

She took it with a look of such grat.i.tude that he had to look away so she didn't see how guilty he felt.

"What do you have against city girls?" she asked as she flipped one of the pancakes. It was a beautiful golden brown and smelled wonderful. Almost as good as Reggie, dish soap and all.

For a moment he was taken aback by her question though. He was going to tell her it was none of her business but then she looked at him, those big blue eyes drawing him in.

"I...I almost married a woman from the city."

Reggie lifted a brow. "You were in love with her."

He thought about lying, but nodded. "She wanted a cowboy and the fantasy, but she soon realized what she didn't want-the reality of my lifestyle." He turned away and saw that she'd set the table already. Or had she set it last night when she was practice-cooking and he just hadn't noticed?

"She broke your heart."

He wished he had told her it was none of her business and left it at that. "She just made me realize that the last thing I needed was a city girl on a Montana cattle ranch."

To his surprise Reggie was silent. For that he was grateful. She flipped the pancakes and looked up at him, the spatula in her hand. He knew he must be staring at her, but he couldn't help himself.

He was hoping to h.e.l.l she didn't have anything to do with Luke Adams's disappearance. And he was also trying to understand what it was about this woman....

REGINA MET his gaze and suddenly felt like giggling. It was his baffled expression, her own lack of sleep, the ridiculousness of her situation and the fact that she'd stayed up all night teaching herself to make pancakes pancakes to get a cowboy's perfect posterior in a pair of her jeans. If her grandmother could see her now. to get a cowboy's perfect posterior in a pair of her jeans. If her grandmother could see her now.

She tried to hold back the giggle but it escaped.

"Reggie?"

To her horror, she started giggling and couldn't stop. Tears ran down her face and her body shook with laughter.

McCall was staring at her as if she'd lost her mind and then he did the strangest d.a.m.ned thing, he laughed. J. T. McCall laughing.

It came as such a surprise, the sound of it, the rich lyrical depth of it, she stopped giggling and looked at him and then to her shock, began to cry, huge sobs that racked her body.

He moved to her. "Finally sunk in, huh."

She nodded, crying and laughing until she took a breath and was sane again.

He reached over to thumb a tear from her cheek.

"You must think I'm the biggest idiot you've ever met," she said.

He shook his head. "But you are the most determined woman woman I've ever met." He thumbed away another tear. "And one of the bravest." I've ever met." He thumbed away another tear. "And one of the bravest."

She smiled and he stood there just looking at her.

"Want to tell me anything before I call the men in for breakfast?" he asked, his voice sounding hoa.r.s.e.

Tell him something? Like the fact that she wished he'd kiss her. Is that what he meant? Or was he still thinking she had the truck part?

She saw that was more what he had in mind. And to think that a second ago she'd thought he might want to kiss her as much as she had wanted him to. She really had lost her mind.

He edged backward to the door, never taking his eyes from her as if he feared what she might do next. Then turning, he left.

Men. She would never understand them.

She stopped long enough to hurriedly apply the balm to her blistered feet and fingers. It helped, giving her hope that after breakfast her feet would feel good enough that she could sneak off and watch him ride. She already knew he would look great in the saddle. But she wasn't just doing it for the commercial.

The truth was the more she was around McCall, the more curious she became about the man. Not that she wasn't still determined to have him for her commercial. What would it hurt to learn more about him? She was curious about his life-a life he wouldn't even trade for fame and fortune.

She shook off the exhaustion and poured the last of the not-bad-looking pancake batter onto the griddle as if born to do it, then stood back and watched the cakes bubble. She could make pancakes!

Even after all her practicing, it still amazed her. Might not mean much to some people, but to her it was nothing short of a miracle.

She flipped the pancakes with an expertise born of practice and pain the night before. The pancakes had cooked to a rich golden brown. She smiled to herself again, feeling as if she'd really accomplished something, feeling good in spite of the burned fingers, blistered feet and sore back and legs.

The only thing that could make this day any better would be for J. T. McCall to agree to do the commercial before Buck got back. She realized that was probably the only reason J.T. was being even civil to her. He knew he would be rid of her soon.

Well, she wasn't down and out yet. Somehow she would change his mind before Buck's return. Going at it head-on hadn't worked. Perhaps there was another way. Although it wasn't her nature but it just might work.

The cowhands came in slowly, as if afraid of what they'd find. Who could blame them after last night's meal. It had frightened her more than them. She'd been the one who'd had to extinguish the flaming food.

She watched the men file in. There was the tall blond, Cotton, then Slim, the lanky cowboy with the scarred hands. Burns? She had an acquaintance who'd burned himself with chemicals while working at a meth lab. He had scars like that.

Then there was Roy, the quiet one and Nevada, the one who looked like an ex-con to her. Not his face, but something about the way he carried himself. And then there was Will. Will Jarvis. If J.T. wanted to know who had taken his stupid distributor cap he should look to Will. The man had pa.s.sed her on the highway yesterday. She distrusted a man who wouldn't help a damsel in distress.

The men all seemed to brighten when they were able to recognize the food on the table. The men all took their places. All except for Luke Adams, the shy one.

As J.T. joined the men at the table, she put the plate with pancakes next to him, took her chair and waited. J.T. filled his plate and pa.s.sed the food.

She wondered where Luke was, but was relieved to see the men filling their plates without McCall having to hold a gun to their heads.

But the true test would be McCall. She stole a look at him, anxious for him to take a bite of the pancakes.

Instead, he looked pointedly at her empty plate. She couldn't possibly eat at this ridiculous hour of the morning, could she? With his gaze still on her, she took two small pancakes and a strip of bacon.

Foregoing b.u.t.ter or syrup, she took a tiny bite of the pancake, feeling like a monarch's official food taster. She blinked in surprise. She took another bite, a larger one, and then quickly finished off the pancake. It was delicious. delicious.

She helped herself to a couple more and decided a little b.u.t.ter wouldn't hurt her. She'd work off the calories before the day was over, she was sure of that. She drizzled some of the huckleberry syrup over the top of her short stack, amazed at just the thought that she'd she'd made these. made these.

She took a bite, closed her eyes and let out a moan of delight. When was the last time she'd had pancakes, let alone b.u.t.ter b.u.t.ter and and syrup syrup on them? Breakfast in L.A. was usually a cup of coffee on the run. She would swear that she'd never had pancakes that tasted this good. on them? Breakfast in L.A. was usually a cup of coffee on the run. She would swear that she'd never had pancakes that tasted this good.

She opened her eyes and realized that J.T. was staring at her, an amused expression on his face. She quickly wiped away her look of ecstasy then the b.u.t.tery syrup from her lips with her tongue.

She waited, her heart in her throat, annoyed at how much she wanted him to say he liked them.

J.T. took a bite of his pancake, chewed, stopped, looked up at her in surprise. "Not bad." He gave her a slight nod, then a smile.

She looked down, trying to hide how pleased she was.

J.T. LOOKED AROUND the table, worried. Over the years he'd had cowhands leave. Some missed girlfriends, others didn't like the work. Some got into fights with one of the other cowhands and left. Some just couldn't take all the quiet.

None of those reasons seemed to fit Luke Adams, but J.T. knew he could be wrong. He hoped to h.e.l.l he was wrong about a lot of things he suspected.

"Luke didn't say anything about leaving last night?" J.T. asked as he cut a bite of ham with his knife.

He looked around the table, carefully avoiding looking at Reggie. All he got from the men were head shakes or shrugs in answer to his question.

"He get into a fight or argument with anyone?"

Head shakes, shrugs.

"Luke left?" Reggie asked, sounding surprised.

"So it seems," he said.

She glanced around the table, then asked Slim to pa.s.s her the pancakes.

"No one heard him leave the tent?" J.T. asked. Apparently not. He let his gaze light on Reggie. She had her head down, seeming more interested in her pancakes then Luke's departure.

"You know where Luke might have gone, Ms. Holland?"

Her head jerked up. She blinked. "How would I I know?" She had a dab of syrup on her lower lip. know?" She had a dab of syrup on her lower lip.

"I thought you might have heard or seen him leave since you were up late?"

She shook her head, her tongue coming out to lick away the syrup.

She might have been the last person to see him, he wanted to say, but didn't pursue it in front of the others. He'd been watching her with the cowhands and he hadn't seen anything pa.s.s between them, not even a suspicious look.

Luke's disappearance seemed to indicate he'd been the person she'd met in the woods last night; the person who'd disabled the truck for her. If so, they were obviously in this together. Whatever this this was. Was it possible she wanted him to make a jeans commercial was. Was it possible she wanted him to make a jeans commercial that that badly? It had to be something else. badly? It had to be something else.

"Maybe he just got up early and went for a ride," Reggie suggested. "Or maybe he went with Buck."

"Buck would have said something if he'd known Luke was leaving. Doesn't it seem odd to you that Luke would take off without a word to anyone?" he asked her.

Her eyes widened. She shrugged. "Everything here seems odd to me."

His gaze killed the splattering of laughter that erupted around the table from her comment. "Well, I don't want anyone else leaving here without me knowing about it." He looked to the men. "I want you to work closely, keeping the others in sight today. Also keep a look out for Luke in case he just wandered off. I don't want anyone else getting lost."

J.T. saw Will Jarvis glance over at Slim. Slim was busy eating and didn't seem to notice, but J.T. did. "Luke didn't mention anything about leaving to you, did he Slim?"

Slim looked up in obvious surprise. His Adam's apple worked for a moment. "I might have heard someone get up last night, but whoever it was came back a little while later."

It seemed no one had heard Luke leave. The six men had all been sleeping in the same tent. He wondered how Luke had been able to leave, gear, horse and all, without anyone being the wiser.

His gaze settled on Reggie. He also wondered what she and presumably Luke Adams might have had to discuss in the middle of the night in the woods. Maybe she was just thanking him for helping her. Because if Luke was the man she'd been whispering to in the dark, J.T. would lay odds Luke had also been the man to take the distributor cap.

REGINA COULD FEEL McCall's gaze on her. He thought she had something to do with Luke leaving? She'd never laid eyes on Luke Adams or any of the rest of them before yesterday. But she could see trying to convince McCall otherwise would be futile.

What exactly was he accusing her of, anyway? He already thought she'd done something to the truck to keep it from running so she could stay the night. Now he thought she'd done something to Luke?

She excused herself and got up to start the dishes. She had a pretty good idea that J.T. wasn't going to have the men help her. She was right. As soon as they all finished their breakfasts, he told everyone to get saddled up.