sound of an approaching car caught Cal’s attention and he turned to watch a Land Rover drive into the yard. A soft curse slipped from his lips.
“Who is that?” she asked.
“My brother, Brody.” Cal slowly stood as Brody hopped out of the car and ran around to the passenger side. A woman stepped out and Brody walked with her to the back door.
“It looks like he’s brought another guest,” she said. “Is that his girlfriend?”
Cal forced a smile. “I have to go. But I’ll see you later.”
He held out his hand, then drew it back. A handshake didn’t seem right now that they’d kissed, Gemma mused. But what would be a proper way to part? She stood up and pressed her hand to his chest. He stared down at her fingers as she smoothed the faded fabric of his shirt. “I’ll see you later.”
Cal hesitated, before nodding, then jogging down the steps. Gemma rubbed her arms, trying to banish the shiver of excitement she felt. Cal Quinn wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met. She’d always dated older men—at least ten years older. Men who had been sophisticated and highly educated, who spent their days thinking, not doing. Gemma had always assumed she’d been looking for that father figure she’d lacked in her life.
But Cal was nothing at all like her father—or like the men she’d dated. He was young and strong and undeniably sexy. Was she willing to put aside her quest to gain a father for a chance at a different kind of lover, a man who made her heart race and her knees wobble?
Gemma sat back down and picked up her sandwich. “I’ll just have to separate my personal life from my…personal life.” And deal with the consequences later.
CAL OPENED THE SCREEN DOOR and stepped inside the kitchen. The scent of Mary’s pot roast hung in the air and she stood at the stove, making gravy from the pan drippings. He looked at the clock. Dinner began in exactly five minutes. Promptness at meal times was one of the only rules that Mary enforced at the station. But Cal was dirty and sweaty from working all day and he needed time to get cleaned up before he saw Gemma again.
He’d spent the day repairing the gates in the homestead yards where they’d driven the cattle after mustering. Focusing on the task had been difficult—his thoughts had been occupied with Gemma and the kiss they’d shared.
He hadn’t been at all happy with his side of the encounter. The contact had stunned him, causing him to draw away instead of pulling her into his arms. Now, the only way to fix his mistake was to kiss her again. But Cal wasn’t sure whether he ought to take the lead on that or let her make the first move again.
He hung his hat next to the door and rolled up his sleeves. “How long?” he asked.
“Look at the clock, Callum Quinn. Five minutes,” Mary said. “Wash your hands and take a seat.”
“I just thought I’d run up and catch a quick shower. Maybe you could hold off a bit?”
Mary turned, bracing her hands on her ample hips. “You can shower after dinner. The boys will want to eat and if you’re not here when I put the food down, there won’t be anything left.” She turned off the flame on the stove, then pulled the gravy jug from the shelf above the sink. “You look just fine. Don’t worry. You could be covered in mud and you’d still be a beaut.”
“I’m not worried,” Cal said. “What would I be worried about? Do you think I—?”
“Of course not. Sit.”
Cal reluctantly took his place at the head of the table and Mary set a beer in front of him. He took a long drink and then leaned back in his chair. After his surprising lunch with Gemma, he’d gone on to have a very strange day.
Brody had brought home a stray girl he’d found living at the jail and had offered her a job working in the stables. Though Payton Harwell didn’t look as though she’d done a hard day’s work in her life, the stables had been spotless when he walked through a few hours later. Either she was efficient and tireless, or she’d managed to convince one of the jackaroos to help her.
Teague had shown up shortly after Payton’s arrival, staying long enough to chat up both of the ladies. But then a call from Doc Daley had sent him off on an emergency visit in his SUV.
With his competition occupied, Cal was anxious to have Gemma to himself. But he had to get through dinner first. “Maybe I should let Gemma know that dinner’s ready,” he said, shoving his chair back.
“She knows. She spent the afternoon in the library and just went back to the bunkhouse a few minutes ago.” Mary handed him a basket full of sliced bread. “Make yourself useful. Make a pot of coffee.”
The six stockmen that worked Kerry Creek arrived at the back door, a boisterous group ready for a good meal and a few cold beers. “She’s a bit of alright, I’d say,” Skip Thompson said as he walked inside. He tossed his hat at the hooks on the wall, but it fell to the floor.
“That she is,” Jack commented. “I like long hair. And long legs. What do you think, Cal?”
“About what?” Cal filled the filter with ground coffee and closed it, then flipped the switch.
“The Yank or the Irish lass? Which do you fancy?”
“I haven’t thought about it,” he lied.
“Ha!” Davey Thompson cried. “A little slow off the mark there, boss? Jack here has already decided to marry the Irish girl. He wants to get to making babies straight off.”
Cal’s jaw clenched. “I’ll warn you yobbos to mind your manners. You’ll not treat these women like the girls you play with at the Spotted Dog.” A knock sounded on the door and he circled the table, pulling a serviette from out of Jack’s collar. “On your lap,” he muttered. “And no talking with your mouth full. No cursing. Or belching. Or farting.”
He found Gemma waiting on the porch, dressed in a pretty blouse and blue jeans. “There’s no need to knock,” he said as he opened the door for her. She’d tied her hair back in a scarf and as she passed, he fought the temptation to pull it off and let her hair fall free.
It had been a long while since he’d enjoyed the pleasures of a woman’s body and the scent of her was enough to make his blood warm. Now, presented with the perfect female form, he couldn’t decide how to proceed. He placed his hand at the small of her back, steering her toward his end of the table.
Cal forced himself to breathe as the warmth from her body seeped into his fingers. This was crazy. Women may have been a bit scarce lately, but he’d always been able to control his desires. Just touching her was enough to send his senses into overdrive.
“Hello,” she said, smiling at the boys seated at the table. Skip suddenly stood and the rest of the stockmen followed suit in a noisy clamor. “I’m Gemma.”
Cal cleared his throat. He should be making the introductions. After all, she was technically his guest. “Gemma, that’s Skip Thompson, and his younger brother, Davey. This is Jack Danbury. Over there is Mick Fermoy, Eddie Franklin and Pudge Bell. And you know Mary.”
He waved Pudge out of the seat next to his and pulled out the chair
