Chapter 6

The foal was a fine-looking colt with a dark black coat.

Maverick reclined in the hay mound that he'd shoveled into a pile so he and Hazel would have a comfortable place to sit while they observed the mama and foal.

Beside him, Hazel released a happy sigh. He'd heard it enough over the years that he didn't even need to see the satisfaction in her eyes to know what the sound meant—that she was pleased with how everything was going.

The foaling had taken long hours. Darkness had fallen and the dinner hour had passed with Clementine bringing them each a plate of the roast and potatoes she'd made. Tiny had started pacing restlessly, frequently lying down and then getting up in order to reposition the foal in the birth canal.

The water hadn't broken for several more hours after that. But within a short time, the foal's front feet and nose had made an appearance. Then Tiny had worked hard to push the foal the rest of the way.

Hazel had needed to rupture the amniotic membrane, but otherwise Tiny had taken care of everything else. An hour later the placenta had passed. The foal had suckled at least once. Now the mother and babe were bonding.

Hazel was waiting for the foal to urinate for the first time as well as pass the meconium. But there was no hurry. Both would happen in time, especially since the newborn appeared to be healthy and strong.

Hazel hadn't needed him during the delivery. She could have handled it all by herself, even if something had gone wrong. But the plain truth was, he liked being there, liked witnessing the new life entering the world, liked seeing something so beautiful and hopeful. More than that, he liked watching Hazel work so proficiently and confidently with the mare and foal.

"You're good at the foaling," he whispered in the night air, which had grown colder with each passing hour. He'd already turned down the flame on the lantern overhead, so that now a warm glow filled the birthing area instead of the bright light they'd used earlier.

Last time he'd peeked outside, it had been snowing lightly. While snow wasn't a regular occurrence in Summit County in the spring, it happened enough that he wasn't surprised. The covering would just make it harder for the horses and the cattle to forage for feed.

Hazel stifled a yawn behind her hand. "It helps that I love what I do." She settled deeper into the hay, her hat and coat long ago discarded. Her hair hung in a single braid over her shoulder and had flipped haphazardly so that the end of it rested against his hand.

He'd been tempted to run a finger along the plait, but he'd resisted. Just as he'd resisted letting his gaze drift to her womanly figure. He'd already made that mistake once today, and he still felt the heat of desire all the way to his bones.

It was a desire he'd do well to ignore, even to pretend didn't exist. Maybe with other women, he would have allowed that desire to blaze a little. He would have flirted and let something simmer—at the most might have stolen a kiss or two.

But Hazel wasn't like any other woman. She actually wasn't like anyone else he'd ever known. And he didn't intend to let desire blaze, simmer, or anything else.

He knew from past birthings that even if he offered her a bed in the house, she'd insist on remaining with the mare and foal. She'd stay up most of the night with the newborn, keeping an eye out for any problems that might arise.

Normally, at about this point in the foaling, he'd turn in and catch a few hours of shut-eye. But tonight, for a reason he couldn't explain, he wasn't ready to head to bed. He wanted to linger in the hay beside her, watch the mama and foal, and whisper about anything.

He settled back further, kicking out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

"You should get some sleep," she whispered.

"I'm not tired yet."

"Morning chores will come soon enough."

She was right about that. He had a whole long list of things to do that he'd been neglecting that week, including overseeing several of the stud stallions. But putting off the work one more day wouldn't hurt. "Someone's gotta keep you from sleeping on the job."

She laughed lightly and elbowed him. "I've done this more times than I can count, and I've never once fallen asleep."

"Not even to doze?"

"Well, if all is going perfectly, then sometimes I rest for a little bit."

"You're pretty amazing."

Again she laughed softly. "Thank you, Maverick. But you do know you pay me to do this, don't you?"

"Don't matter none. You did it for years without any compensation, and I reckon you'd keep doing it even if I couldn't pay you."

She shrugged, and her cheeks began to flush.

How had he never noticed that she flushed at compliments? Maybe he'd have to do it more often, just so he could watch her cheeks turn pink.

The real question that had been pestering him was how interested she really was in Ross. He'd wanted to ask her more about it, but there hadn't been an opportunity until now. "So, Ross, huh?"

"What?" Confusion edged the word.

"You got a hankering for him?"

She sat forward and buried her face in her hands. "Oh my."

"What do you know about him?" Ross was a good worker and a fine young man. But he'd only started working at the ranch last year after giving up on gold mining, and Maverick didn't know much about his past. He was gonna have to change that if Hazel was interested in him.

She shook her head, her braid swishing back and forth and bumping him.

He tugged at it. "It's a perfectly reasonable question."

"If you're my father."

"I'm practically your brother." Was he, though? The direction of his thoughts this week hadn't been brotherly.

"Brother. That's right." She dropped her hands and fell back into the mound, sending a soft cloud of dust into the air—one filled with the scent of hay. "I always really needed another brother."

In addition to Sterling, she had three other brothers. Even though two of them were currently out east attending universities, Hazel had never lacked brotherly attention. The whole Noble clan was mighty protective of their women and particular about the men Hazel and Scarlet were allowed to fraternize with.

"So, brother." Hazel emphasized the word a little too much. "What wisdom can you impart to your sister?"

"About what?" She was taking the sibling thing a little too far now. Because honestly, he didn't want to be her brother anymore, and he most certainly didn't want her to be his sister.

"We agreed you would teach me how to flirt."

Prickles of protest formed along his spine. "Ain't never agreed to that."

"It was implied."

He shook his head. "No way, no how—"

"Please, Maverick?" Her fingers brushed his arm, halting not only his words but his thoughts.

"I'm severely lacking the skills in winning a man."

"You don't need to win a man." He scrambled to form a coherent sentence with her touching him. Why was her simple touch affecting him so much all of a sudden? "The right fella needs to win you."

"It hasn't happened yet."

"It will." He wouldn't be the one to inform her that Sterling had all but threatened to castrate any of his ranch hands who even looked at Hazel or Scarlet. In fact, Sterling had made it mighty clear that none of the area miners better look at his sisters either.

Maverick hadn't complained about Sterling's carefulness when it came to Hazel and Scarlet. He felt the same way about his sisters—that there wasn't anyone who'd ever be worthy of having them as wives.

Hazel released an exasperated sigh. "I'm twenty-one, and no one has ever come courting me."

"You're plenty young."

"It's not that I'm in a hurry to get married. I love what I do here." She gave a pointed look at Tiny standing at the trough, munching on hay while her baby wobbled at her side. "But maybe it's time to start thinking about finding someone."

Why did the thought of her finding someone irk him?

"So teach me all you know, O wise master." Her tone was soft and teasing, as were her eyes. In fact, those bronze-colored eyes of hers were so light and warm, he felt suddenly like he was drowning in melted honey-butter.

He had to shake himself free, which was difficult since the only place he wanted to be was there, staring into her eyes the rest of the night. "I ain't gonna teach you to flirt," he whispered. "Sterling already wants to kill me. If he learns I'm filling your head with ways to seduce men, he'll not only kill me, but he'll feed me to the wild critters."

Hazel clamped a hand over his mouth and quickly glanced around the deserted barn. The dozens of stalls were quiet on either side of the haymow, the horses at rest. Dark shadows hovered in every corner, but no one else was around to hear their conversation.

Her wide eyes turned upon him and were now filled with censure. "I'm not seducing anyone," she hissed.

Her hand was over his mouth. Her palm against his lips. Her fingers touching his jaw. Her skin flush with his scruff. She was right there for the taking. All he had to do was press his mouth in, and he'd get to taste her. And heaven almighty, he was suddenly hungry—no, famished—for a taste of her.

Before he could figure out how to restrain himself, he pressed into her palm with his lips and kissed the warm spot at the center.

At the contact, she froze, her gaze crashing into his and widening.

A strange and deep longing radiated through him, and he couldn't keep from kissing her palm again. She was so soft and warm and perfect, and he couldn't think of anything else that he wanted to do but keep on tasting her, especially while drowning in her eyes.

She was so beautiful, her eyes so wide, her mouth slightly open, her lips rounded with surprise.

What would it be like to kiss her lips?

Heat stabbed his gut hard, and his hands moved toward her with the need to draw her closer. He couldn't stop himself as he made contact with her hips. He skimmed the curves, settling his fingers around her waist. It would be all too easy to pull her close. Or even to lay her back in the hay and press against her.

The image sent more heat through him, and he closed his eyes to block the image, except it wouldn't go away. It was seared to the forefront of his mind.

As if those thoughts were blaring loudly for her to hear, she snatched her hand away from his mouth and scooted back several inches.

His eyes flew open in time to see not only surprise in her eyes but also confusion. She probably had no idea exactly how attractive she was and the power she could wield over a man.

"That was a flirting lesson." He spoke the first thing that came to his mind, the first excuse he could think of for why he'd just kissed her hand.

"It was?" She was holding the hand he'd kissed and grazing her thumb across the center of her palm as though trying to make sense of the kisses he'd pressed there.

"Yep. I'm gonna teach you how to flirt. But you have to promise you'll only practice with me."

"Why just with you?" Did her voice have a breathless quality to it? Had his kisses affected her as much as they had him?

"Because I'm safe and won't try to take advantage of you in return." It was the plain truth. He was safer than any other man. And the other plain truth was that he didn't want her trying out any of his tricks on anyone else. His gut tightened just thinking about her flirting with another man. He couldn't imagine watching it unfold.

She was still peering at him, her eyes wide and innocent.

"Promise you'll only flirt with me?" he persisted.

"Only with you? For how long?"

Forever? He bit back the word and instead shrugged. "Until I say so."

She cocked her head, as if she was starting to question his sanity. "Eventually I have to use what I'm learning on other men."

No, she did not. At least, not for a long time. "Some fella is gonna sweep you off your feet without you having to do a blasted thing. I guarantee it."

A small smile hovered over her lips. "Thanks, Maverick. I wish I had your confidence."

He was actually glad she was a little bit shy and reserved when it came to men. Men were intimidated by women who were shy and beautiful. And she was both.

"So, what's the first thing I should do when I approach a fellow?" She sat up straighter as though she truly were preparing to learn from the master.

"Should I call him darlin' the way you call all the women darlin'?"

"Naw, the first thing you gotta do is make eye contact." He held her gaze. "And hold it for a few seconds."

"Like this?" Scrunching her forehead, she stared at him intently, almost angrily.

He couldn't keep from grinning. "Whoa, now. We're not aiming to scare them away." Or maybe that would be a good thing.

She smiled, then swatted his arm.

"Try it again."

This time she rounded her eyes and widened her smile almost to the point of looking comical.

Another grin worked its way free. "You're not trying to make them laugh at you either."

She smacked him harder.

Before he knew it, they were both laughing, and she was making more faces and he was imitating her. He tried to teach her several more tips about smiling and winking, but she failed just as utterly with those two tasks as she had with making eye contact.

Finally, she raised her hands in surrender. "I give up. I'll never learn."

He captured her hands. "Why don't I show you. Sometimes, it's easier to learn from a demonstration."

"You are the master." Her voice was light and filled with teasing.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he twined his fingers through hers and tugged her closer. In the same motion, he met her gaze as levelly as possible, letting himself look deeply into her eyes, holding the connection.

The playfulness in her eyes slipped away, and a strange new intensity took its place—an intensity that seemed to reach down inside and grab his heart.

Before he could say anything, her lashes fell halfway, shielding her, hiding something he didn't want to miss. But she wasn't giving him everything this time, was only sharing a tiny portion of herself, which only served to make her more alluring and even more desirable.

She was actually flirting with him perfectly at the moment, and she probably didn't even realize it, which was a good thing. Because he'd only scare her if he allowed himself to react the way he wanted to, which was to slide both hands up her cheeks, tilt her head back, and get a look more deeply into her eyes.

"How am I doing?" Her inquiry was soft, almost seductive. Or maybe he just thought it sounded that way because of what they were doing.

His attention dropped to her lips. His gut tightened with a need so powerful that he was suddenly afraid if he stayed with her in the hay, he'd do the very thing he'd told her he wouldn't do—take advantage of her.

He wouldn't do that. Absolutely couldn't.

With a burst of determination, he released her hand and pushed himself up from the hay. He paced several feet away, pinching the back of his neck and breathing hard, trying to get himself under control before he turned back around and faced the questions sure to be in her eyes.

He wasn't sure what was happening to him to stir up such desire for her. But one thing he did know—sitting there in the hay with her and flirting was like playing with fire. If he wasn't careful, he was gonna start a big blaze—one he wouldn't be able to put out. One that would hurt them both.

"You're doing too good." The word darlin' almost slipped out. But he wasn't gonna use it with her. She needed something special, all her own.

"Too good?" Her voice held a note of pleasure.

"Yep." He tossed her a smile and took several more steps away so that he wouldn't be tempted to fall back into the hay beside her. "You got me wanting to drop down on one knee and propose marriage to you right here and now."

She laughed lightly. "You'd never do that. But thank you for saying so."

Never? Really? He wasn't so sure about that. Something about the idea of making Hazel his didn't sound like such a bad idea. In fact, if she were his, he wouldn't have to walk away from her right now, and he could linger in the hay and pull her into his arms the way he wanted to. He could silence all her talk about learning to flirt with a long kiss—one that would teach her she was perfect just the way she was.

All the noise in his head rumbled to a stop, leaving silence in its wake along with the truth.

He liked Hazel . . . a lot.

For the past few years, every time his family had teased him about Hazel, he'd always insisted he and Hazel were just friends. But what if his family had been right? What if they'd seen his attraction to Hazel all along when he'd refused to admit it?

After tonight, how could he deny an attraction to her any longer? And did it really matter? After all, she'd never shown any interest in him. For all he knew, she'd cut and run if he ever hinted at wanting more between them.

Maybe he'd have to do a little flirting of his own with her and try to discover if she'd ever reciprocate the attraction.

Whatever the case, he had to take a break from her and cool off. Because he was learning one thing quick-like when it came to Hazel—she was hard to resist, even though she wasn't even trying to win him.