Page 32

Okay, so that conversation was done.

She tried not to ogle, but time had been good to him. He was strong in the way of a man who worked for a living. Broad shoulders gave way to sculpted arms tanned from their time under the mid-Texas sun. She’d like to pretend she hadn’t noticed the rest of him—like how he filled out his jeans—but she was a woman and Bennett was all man. All cowboy, too.

They drove Bennett’s truck to the south fields, and Maggie pointed out the two downed patches of fence there. Only one was marked as a penalty, but the second would be in a matter of days.

“He really let it go, didn’t he?” she whispered against the window. Her warm breath left behind a soft fog on the glass.

“I don’t know that he had any other choice, except to sell.”

“Why didn’t he, then? Why bring me back after all this time?”

Bennett shrugged, his eyes sad. “I dunno. I do know he wanted the best for you. He never stopped talking about that.” He shook his head as he parked the truck on the dusty path beside the fence. “But we’re gonna do him proud, Maggie. We’ll fix it up.”

“Thank you,” she said, tracing a heart in the steamed window. “This means a lot.”

“No problem, Maggie. I’m happy to help.”

The thing was, he looked like he honestly was, the way he hopped out of the truck and whistled while he unwrapped the roll of caustic barbed wire.

In less than two hours, the work was done and the two of them were bathed in sweat and red Texas dirt.

She looked up at him, a muddy, crimson streak across his face and two more on his neck and chest, and laughed. “You look like you were the victim of a mud-mauling.”

He grinned, the white of his perfect teeth juxtaposed against the stains. “Oh, you mean this mud?” he asked, dragging his hand along the edge of the small tributary to Deer Creek where they’d installed the last line of wire.

“Ooh, that’s so disgusting.”

“Isn’t it? It’s sticky, too.” Bennett’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he let the viscous sludge slide down his hands.

“Bennett, put that down.” Alarm and an incongruous bubble of laughter rose up Maggie’s throat, making her itch in her own skin. Instead of listening to her, he moved a couple inches closer, and a small giggle escaped her mouth.

“You didn’t say please, Maggie. I know you know better. I’m afraid there’ll have to be some consequences for that.”

She stood up and backed toward the creek. “Bennett Tucker Marshall, please put that down.”

He shook his head, his smile and eyes bright. “No can do. What’s done is done.”

Her words used in such a playful way disarmed her and she let loose another peal of laughter.

“Come here, Maggie.”

She shook her head, her arms outstretched in front of her as if they could do a thing to stop the wall of muscle and mud inching nearer. The creek lay behind her, its waters cool and inviting, but other than diving into them, she had no way out. Mania spread through her limbs and an effervescent sort of panic rolled through her. When she started giggling, she couldn’t stop.

“D-don’t.”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you, Maggie.” Bennett’s laugh echoed off the canyon walls.

“Please,” she begged, her teeth chattering.

“You’ve got to speak up.” He lifted his hand with the mud, trails of it dripping down his forearm.

“You wouldn’t.”

He closed the gap between them and smeared mud down her nose while she squealed in protest.

“Oh, I would.” His arms closed around her, and even though he took the opportunity to rub mud across her arms and torso, she didn’t want him to leave. Ever. His scent was a mix of sweat and earth; if someone found a way to bottle that masculinity, she’d buy out their stock.

“Bennett Tucker Marshall!”