Page 11 of Heart of Stone
“True.” Stone stopped brushing Raider, turning around to face Luke directly, his expression pensive. “I sure couldn’t run this place without you. I just hope I’m pullin’ my weight.”
“You’re doin’ fine.” Luke lowered Mist’s foreleg carefully. “Especially for someone who didn’t know beans about running a ranch a couple of months ago. You can’t expect to learn it all in a few weeks.”
Stone shrugged, but his lips quirked up in a tiny smile that Luke had come to recognize meant he was pleased. “I’m tryin’. Guess I never thought I’d ever be nothin’ but a cowboy.”
Personally, Luke thought Stone had probably been more than just a cowboy even when he was a cowboy. Even though Stone had been tight-lipped about his past, Luke had picked up on enough to understand Stone hadn’t had an easy time of it. He was a smart, hard-working man who’d never had the chance to show what he was capable of before, but Copper Lake was changing all that, and Luke aimed to help him use the untapped potential he’d been carrying around.
“Well, I guess you were wrong about that,” Luke replied. “But you’ll do all right. You ain’t afraid of gettin’ your hands dirty around here, and that’s good. Too many men would feel like they’d been dropped into the lap of luxury, but runnin’ a place like this takes hard work from everybody, not just the hands.”
That earned him an actual smile. “Wouldn’t know what to do with luxury, anyway.” Stone put the brush back on its shelf, picked up a cloth and a bottle of oil, and set about working on his saddle. “Seems it might be dull. Not enough to do.”
“Oh I don’t know,” Luke drawled, deciding he’d gone long enough without teasing Stone a little bit. He enjoyed seeing Stone blush; he’d never seen anything more becoming on man or woman in his life, and it made him want to nuzzle Stone’s rosy cheeks. “I can think of a few leisure-time activities that wouldn’t be dull at all. Well, if they’re done right, that is.”
Stone looked up from what he was doing, and Luke saw the desired flush rising on his cheeks and the confusion in his eyes. It was as if Stone thought Lukemightbe hinting at what he really was hinting at, but Stone was either unwilling or afraid to believe it. Or maybe he was afraid to act on it, since he’d been careful not to admit openly that his preferences were just like Luke’s.
Finally, Stone made a noncommittal sound and reached for the bottle of neatsfoot oil, but in an uncharacteristically clumsy move, he knocked it over, splattering it all over the arm and chest of his blue shirt.
“Damn,” he muttered in annoyance as he mopped up the spillage with the cloth he’d been using on his saddle. He put the cork back in the bottle and began to unbutton his shirt. “Mary’s goin’ to kill me.”
And you’re goin’ to kill me, Luke thought dazedly as he followed the path of Stone’s fingers down the front of his shirt, watching eagerly for a hint of bare skin.
“Yeah, that one might have to go straight to the rag bag.” Luke had to force the words past the dryness in his throat. “If the weather’s clear, you can go into town and buy a new shirt tomorrow, though.”
Stone slipped the shirt off his shoulders. Luke could see the skin of Stone’s torso was almost as dark as that of his forearms, and he had very little body hair anywhere in sight. His shoulders were broad, and he had a few scars that stood out prominently, lighter in hue than his skin.
“Maybe I can get it out,” he said, going to fetch a bucket of water from the trough. He picked up the saddle soap and dipped it in the bucket along with his shirt. “Hate to waste a good shirt.”
“I think there’s an old washboard that the hands use around here somewhere.” Luke had to tear his gaze away from the sight of Stone’s muscles working beneath his smooth skin. There wasn’t any sense in torturing himself by looking at what he couldn’t touch, he reminded himself sternly as he went to find the washboard and bring it back to Stone. “Here, maybe this’ll help,” he said, holding out the board.
“Thanks.” Stone had put the bucket on the workbench, and as he reached out to take the washboard, their eyes met. Stone went still, staring at him, as though he was reading something on Luke’s face, and for the first time, the awareness in Stone’s eyes was more than just a faint spark. There was no mistaking the sudden flare of heat in that dark gaze or the way that Stone’s breathing suddenly sped up.
Luke wasn’t sure he could look away even if he’d wanted to, but he didn’t; he was losing himself in the depths of Stone’s eyes, captive and captivated all at once, and he didn’t want to be set free.Oh lord, he thought with a silent groan,I’ve gone and fallen for him!It was quite possibly the most stupid thing he’d ever done, but it was too late now. He was well and truly hooked, and he had no choice but to keep on trying to hook Stone in return.
“Any time, boss.” He licked his dry lips as he released the washboard, but not Stone’s gaze. Whatever Stone was seeing in his face, well, it was too late to hide it now, and he didn’t care to try.
There was a flicker in Stone’s eyes, and then Stone took a step toward him, close enough that Luke would feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Stone moved like a wolf stalking his prey, and he lifted his hand and reached out as though he might be about to touch Luke’s face.
The moment was shattered by a sound at the stable door at the far end, a laugh and the dull thud of hooves as some of the hands returned from their chores. A shutter slammed down over Stone’s face, and he abruptly turned away, plunging the washboard into the bucket and beginning to scrub at his shirt with unusual vigor.
“Damn it,” Luke muttered as he too turned away and suppressed the urge to shoot dire glares at the hands who had destroyed the first promising sign that Stone was responding to him.
It wasn’t their fault, of course; it was just bad timing, and Luke released a quiet sigh, glancing wistfully at Stone, who seemed intent on ignoring his presence entirely as if to make up for the momentary lapse. They had a long winter ahead of them and plenty of nights alone in the big house. Luke would be patient and wait, and the next time, he’d make damned sure there wouldn’t be any hands barging in to interrupt.
CHAPTER8
Stone stepped out the kitchen door, his gaze going to the sky as he scanned the pale grey expanse. He didn’t like the look of the sky or the way the wind was kicking up out of the west. Not at all. They’d had a few light snowfalls in the last three weeks, but nothing that had stuck around for more than a couple of days. The hands were just as glad, though, since the mild, dry weather made their jobs a lot easier.
He pulled his coat up around his ears to block the breeze and headed toward the wood pile to fetch more for the fireplace. The temperature was dropping slowly, not quite yet at freezing though the wind made it feel a lot colder. No one seemed too concerned, except for Stone. Something about the way the wind smelled warned him that a bad blow might be coming.
“Don’t be stupid,” he muttered. He’d spent most of his life farther south than this and not so near the mountains, so he wasn’t used to the vagaries of the weather in these parts. But he remembered his mother telling him that you could tell when a storm was coming by the way the air smelled: the sharp tang of a thunderstorm or the dry, almost dusty smell of a blizzard. He looked back over his shoulder at the mountains, looming clear and close under the cloud cover. There was snow on their slopes, but not much, and mostly in the shady spots where the sun couldn’t reach. The mountains didn’t look worried, so he told himself to forget the way his nose itched and just get on with the chores. He had enough to do with Luke out taking care of a break in the fence where a big tree had fallen on the far side of the lake and taken down large section of the wire.
By rights, Stone should be out there helping, but he’d started going out with different hands on his own rounds of riding fence, telling Luke that he needed to get to know the other men a bit better. Luke had given him a speaking glance but hadn’t protested, although Stone suspected Luke knew exactly why he was doing it. It was why Stone had told Luke that he could handle the books on his own now and why he’d started going up to bed earlier in the evenings; Stone was afraid of what might happen if he was alone with Luke too long.
He’d tried to deny it, telling himself that Luke was just trying to get a rise out of him; just because Luke had admitted he preferred male company didn’t necessarily mean he was looking atStonethat way. Nor did Stone want him to. Some things were dangerous and best left alone, and Stone had long ago learned that he could ignore his physical needs if he tried hard enough. Anddamn, he’d been trying hard ever since that day in the stable when Luke had turned around and looked at him like he’d wanted to devour Stone whole right then and there.
That look told Stone he’d been fooling himself. Luke wanted him, and he’d felt his own desire rising to meet Luke’s with sudden, almost overwhelming power. No one had ever made him feel like he could lose control and not care about the consequences before. Not even Daniel, the first man he’d ever been with.
He hadn’t thought about Daniel in almost a decade, and he didn’t want to think about him now, but it seemed inevitable that his desire for Luke would stir up those long denied memories. Daniel had been nearly thirty, and Stone had been only eighteen and vulnerable after the death of his mother. Daniel was the owner of a saloon in Moapa, and he’d rented an upstairs room to Stone and his mother during the last year of her life. Daniel had been kind, and somehow after the funeral, Stone had ended up drunk and miserable at the door to Daniel’s room, which had been right down the hall from his. He couldn’t bear to sleep in that room and not hear the quiet sound of his mother breathing, and Daniel had opened his door, taking Stone in without question and then taking him to bed and showing him that life went on. He’d not even minded when Stone had wept for his mother afterward.