Buckhorn Beginnings. Lori Foster

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Buckhorn Beginnings - Lori Foster Mills & Boon M&B

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Honey bit back her smile.

       At that moment, the cat leaped off the bed to twine around Jordan’s ankles. Without even looking down, he scooped up the small pet and cuddled her close, encouraging the melodic, rumbling purr. To Honey, he said, “Go on and take your bath. There’s no rush.”

       They stepped into the hallway en masse, two powerful men, an ecstatic cat and a woman wrapped head to toes in a blanket. They nearly collided with Casey, who was liberally caked in mud. He’d removed his shoes so he wasn’t tracking anything in, but mud was on his legs clear to his knees. The shirt he’d worn, thanks to her interference—she still didn’t know what had come over her—was dirt- and sweat-stained. He looked more like a man than ever.

       Holding up both hands, Casey said, “Don’t come too close. The fields are drenched and muddy as hell…uh, heck. And half that mud is on me.”

       Jordan clapped him on the back. “Well, you’ll have to use Gabe’s shower, because the little lady wants a bath.”

       Casey stared at her.

       Honey deduced that the phenomenon of having a female bathing in the all-male household warranted nearly as much attention as a cow on the loose.

       Her face was getting redder by the second. If she didn’t have a fever, she soon would. Never in her life had bathing been such an ordeal, or been noted and discussed by so many males.

       The front door slammed, and not long after, Morgan rounded the hall, already stripping his shirt off with frustrated, jerky movements. Powerful, bulky muscles rippled across his broad shoulders and heavy chest as he stamped around the corner of the hall. He had his hands on the button to his tan uniform slacks when he realized he had an audience.

       He didn’t look the least discomforted at being caught undressing in the middle of the day, in the middle of the house, in front of a crowd.

       “Sorry,” he grumbled without an ounce of sincerity, and yanked his belt free. “I’m just heading for the shower. It must be ninety out there, and the damn humidity makes it feel like a sauna.” He pointed an accusing finger at Jordan. “It was only the thought of a cool shower that kept me from kicking that damn ornery heifer, who no matter what I tried, refused to budge her big spotted butt.”

       Jordan laughed out loud, gleefully explaining, “Your shower will have to wait because—”

       Honey, knowing good and well he intended to announce her bath once again, pulled loose from Sawyer and stomped on Jordan’s toe. Since he had on shoes and she didn’t, he looked more surprised than hurt. He stared down at his foot, but then so did the rest of the men. They all looked as if they expected to see a bug to account for her attack. When no bug was found, all those masculine gazes transferred to her face, and she lifted her chin. Just because they were men didn’t mean they had to wallow in insensitivity.

       Jordan blinked at her, one brow raised high, and she quickly stepped back to Sawyer’s side.

       Her bravado wilted under Jordan’s questioning gaze. Oh, God, she’d assaulted him! In his own home and in front of his family. Sawyer chuckled and put his arm around her.

       Morgan stared at her with bad-tempered amusement. “Wanting a long soak, huh? I suppose I can use Gabe’s shower…”

       Casey stepped forward. “After me. I claimed it first.”

       “I’m older, brat.”

       “Doesn’t matter!” And then Casey took off, racing for the shower. With a curse, Morgan started after him.

       Honey wanted to slink back to bed and hide. The bath, which had sounded so heavenly moments before, now just seemed like a form of public humiliation. She was tired and her throat hurt and her head was beginning to ache. She turned to Sawyer, stammering, “I can wait.”

       Sawyer stared at her mouth.

       Jordan stepped up and steered them both down the hall as if they were nitwits who needed direction. “Nonsense. Go take your soak. You’ll feel better afterward.” He limped pathetically as he walked, and Honey had the sneaking suspicion he did it on purpose, just to rattle her, not because she’d actually hurt him.

       They were a strange lot—but she liked them anyway.

      WARMWATER covered her to her chin, and she sighed in bliss. Finally, she felt clean again.

       Where Sawyer had found the bubble bath, she didn’t know, but she seriously doubted any of his brothers would lay claim to it. She smiled, wondering what they all thought of her. From the little bit she’d seen of them, they had a lot of similarities, yet they were each so different, too.

       Of course, that might make sense considering their mother was evidently remarried. Honey couldn’t imagine marrying once, much less twice. After the way her fiancé had used her, she wanted nothing to do with matrimony.

       “You all right in there?”

       “I’m fine. Go away.”

       “Just checking.”

       She smiled again. Sawyer had been hovering outside her door for the entire five minutes she’d been in the tub. He was something of a mother hen, which probably accounted for his chosen profession. He was meant to be a doctor. Everything about him spoke of a natural tendency to nurture. She liked it; she liked him. Too much.

       The ultrahot kiss… Well, she just didn’t know what to think of it. Her lips still tingled and she licked them, savoring the memory of his taste. She’d almost married Alden, yet he’d never kissed her like that. And she’d certainly never thought about him the way she thought about Sawyer.

       She’d known Alden two years and yet had never really wanted him. Not the way she wanted Sawyer after less than two days.

       What would have happened if Jordan hadn’t interrupted? Anything, nothing? She simply wasn’t familiar enough with men to know. Not that familiarity would have helped, because she knew, even in her feverish state and even without a wealth of experience, Sawyer was different from most men. He was unique, a wonderful mix of pure rugged masculinity and incredible sensitivity.

       He’d run the bathwater for her, placed a mat on the floor and fresh towels at hand and stacked her cleaned jeans and T-shirt on the toilet seat. All without mentioning the kiss and without getting too close to her. After he’d gotten everything ready, he’d looked at her, shook his head, then left with the admonition she should take as long as she liked, but not so long she got dizzy or overtired herself.

       She intended to linger just a few minutes more. In all likelihood, the brothers would hold dinner for her. From all indications they enjoyed the novelty of having a woman underfoot and wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to make her the center of attention again, as if she alone was the sole entertainment. She wasn’t used to it, but she supposed she’d manage. For now, they were probably still organizing their own bath schedule, but how long would that take? Alden had always taken very short showers, his bathing a business, not a pleasure, whereas she’d always loved lingering in the water, sometimes soaking for hours.

       She drained the tub and stepped out onto the mat. The steamy bath had relieved her throat some, and her muscles felt less achy after the soak. The towel Sawyer had provided was large and soft, and she wrapped herself in it, wishing she could just

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