air in the master bedroom was oppressively heavy. It felt sticky, still ripe with the day’s humidity. Savannah walked to the windows on either side of the king-size bed and opened them as far as they would go, hoping to get a little air circulating through the room.
Nothing happened. If there was a breeze in the vicinity, it was avoiding them.
Not bothering to shed the loose-fitting sundress she had on, Savannah lay down on the other side of the bed and pretended that all was well in her life.
“Why didn’t you put your nightgown on last night?”
It was the first question she heard when she walked into the kitchen the next morning.
Savannah felt groggy. Her stomach was just now inching its way down from her throat after being lodged there for the better part of the last fifteen minutes, as she’d knelt over the toilet bowl. She’d then crept down the darkened stairs, making her way through the all but pitch-black house, guided by the light coming from the kitchen.
Cruz was sitting at the table, eating. He’d fixed his own breakfast. Again.
So now she felt useless as well as harried and ignored.
“You noticed.” Savannah hadn’t meant to let the cryptic words escape, especially in that tone, but they had.
A piece of toast raised to his lips, Cruz looked at her as if he thought her pregnancy had somehow loosened a few screws in her head.
“Of course I noticed. You were lying right there beside me.”
Savannah shrugged as she opened the refrigerator and moved a few things around. “Since you were wearing your clothes, it seemed like the thing to do.”
Taking out a container of milk, she poured the glassful she forced herself to drink every morning. As she raised it to her lips, she felt her stomach tighten in rebellion.
Taking her words to be a criticism, Cruz did his best to stifle the annoyance that rose up like a tidal wave inside of him. He’d never had a long fuse, but lately his temper was exceedingly short. “I was exhausted.”
Savannah put the container back in the refrigerator and sat down at the table, joining him. “You’re always exhausted.”
His back went up, even though he continued eating. “Running a ranch takes a lot out of a man.”
Savannah set the glass down after only two sips. She absolutely hated milk. “Then let someone help you run it.”
He used the edge of his toast to coax the last of his scrambled eggs onto his fork. “You mean like you?” He shook his head as he took another bite. “You’re already doing the bookkeeping. And you’ve got Luke and the house, not to mention that you’re—”
Savannah cut him off. How could someone so smart be so thick? “I know exactly what I’ve got to do.” The words rang a bit too sharply in her ears, but she couldn’t seem to control the tone of her voice this morning. “And I didn’t mean me. I meant one of the hands.” She thought a second. “What about Paco?”
Cruz could literally feel annoyance creasing his brow. In the next minute it was gone as he reined in the frustration that seemed to appear more and more quickly these days whenever he was home.
“I told you before, Paco left.” Impatience returned despite his best efforts to keep it in check. “Don’t you listen to me?”
“I listen to you,” she said with indignation. “I can count every word you’ve said to me in the last month. There haven’t been many.”
Was she going to start in on that again? “Look, Savannah—”
She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to find a solution. Desperately, she went over the names of the other ranch hands. “What about Hank?”
Cruz stopped and stared at her. Just what was his wife up to? “Hank?”
“Why can’t he share some of the burden in running the ranch?” she asked slowly. “Maybe you can make him your foreman.”
He had never appointed a foreman. It was something he’d meant to do, but found himself putting off time and again. Naming a foreman meant giving someone else a share of the responsibilities that he viewed as his own. It was his ranch. His brand on everything. His good name that hung in the balance if anything went wrong.
Cruz frowned, looking down at his plate. “Hank’s not ready for it.”
Why not? Savannah asked herself. Just the other day her husband had mentioned how well the man was working out. Didn’t Cruz remember? “He’s been here almost two years—”
“I said he’s not ready for it.”
She pushed herself away from the table, glaring at Cruz. Damn it, he was doing this on purpose. “In your opinion, no one’s ready for it. I think you’re just using the ranch as an excuse not to come home to us at a decent hour.”
Like a man standing on one leg on a tightrope, Cruz felt as if he was being pushed beyond his endurance. “You want decent hours, you should have married some fancy businessman who clocks in from nine to five, not me.”
She stared at him. Where had that come from? There’d never been anyone but him in her life. “I didn’t want a fancy businessman, I wanted you.”
He caught hold of the one word that threw everything they had into jeopardy. “‘Wanted?’”
“Want. I still want you,” she amended, realizing what her slip must have sounded like. “But I never get to see you.”
He finished his cup of coffee and put it back on its saucer. “What are you talking about? We see each other every day.”
That didn’t count and he knew it, Savannah thought. “For what?” she demanded. “Ten, fifteen minutes at a clip? You’re always either on your way out the door or too tired to keep your eyes open.”
“If that’s true, how did that happen?” Cruz shifted his eyes toward her belly and the child who was growing there.
Picking up his plate and empty coffee cup, Savannah took both to the sink. “Once in five months doesn’t count.”
His manhood insulted, Cruz required a hefty dose of self-control to keep his temper and reaction in check. “It’s been more than once,” he corrected hotly.
She ran hot water on the plate and left it in the sink to soak for a moment. Then she shut off the tap and wiped her hands.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean,” he retorted, addressing his words to the back of her head. “You make it sound as if I’m having fun out there.”
Tossing the towel aside, Savannah swung around. “Well, aren’t you? In a way, aren’t you having the time of your life out there? Horses are your first love, aren’t they?”
Angry words sprang to his tongue. Cruz pressed his lips together, struggling to hold them in, knowing
