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“Are you going to be all right?” he asked now.
Oakley nodded, even though she wasn’t that sure. Facing her brother would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Except maybe recovering from the bullet he’d fired into her back.
“That could move things up a bit with the drilling,” he said, still studying her.
She could only nod, trying to think about the new gas well she was determined to stop. Instead, she breathed in Pickett’s fresh-from-the-shower scent as if it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. She fought the urge to move even closer. She knew that if she touched his shirt, it would be soft, the arm under it solid. That was Pickett. Solid.
“You ready to face him?”
It had been months since CJ had shot her, months since she’d seen him while he was in Minnesota recovering. She had little sympathy for him. He’d almost killed both her and Tilly. He was to blame for his injuries that had left him paralyzed, but she doubted he would see it that way. He’d never accepted blame or experienced remorse for his actions from the time he was a boy.
“Of course you’re going to have conflicting feelings,” Pickett was saying. “He’s your brother and yet—”
“And yet, he almost killed me and I’m still not sure why. I’m angry and hurt, but I also need answers.” With CJ returning, she would finally get to confront him for what he’d done to her, but she wanted more than that. She wanted to know the real story.
Pickett frowned. “I thought it was because he’d assumed you were meeting someone on the McKenna Ranch, and he fired a warning shot to stop you.”
“That’s what he told my sister, Tilly, but I suspect there is more to it. I just need to remember everything before I was shot. I don’t even know what I was doing there that day.”
“Or what your brother was doing there,” he said quietly.
She looked into his eyes and felt electricity arcing between them. This was something new, something she hadn’t felt before. When she looked into the depths of those eyes, she could have sworn that he was feeling it, too. She swallowed, feeling strangely self-conscious. “I have a lot of questions.”
“And a lot of anger,” he noted, his gaze intent on her. Pickett listened like no one she’d ever known. “If your mother is as protective of CJ as you said she is...”
She smiled and tried to still the jitters she felt being this close to the ranch hand. She’d never felt them quite this strongly before. Something was different tonight, a closeness, an intimacy, because of being alone here. If he touched her, she knew she would walk into his arms. The thought of being held in those arms, of being pressed against his strong chest, of being protected in a way she’d never known, filled her with a need so strong that it threatened to overwhelm her.
But Pickett didn’t touch her—ever—not like Duffy, who often threw his arm around her, pulled her into his chest for a hug or nudged her to get her attention. Even if Pickett accidentally brushed against her in passing, she’d felt sparks fly. And suspected he had, too, and that was the reason why he tried not to touch her.
She’d never been more aware of the man than she was right now. She yearned for him to touch her with his suntanned, callused fingertips... That she yearned so deeply for his touch—let alone that she felt such an overwhelming desire tonight to be in his arms—shook her to her core.
“I need to tread lightly,” she said as if warning herself not only about how she handled CJ and her mother, but also how she reacted to Pickett right now.
She blamed her emotions on the thought of seeing her mother and CJ again. That was what had her off balance, she thought, even as she knew some of it was Pickett. She couldn’t trust herself, let alone her emotions, she warned herself.
“You plan to tread lightly?” He grinned. He had a great grin. “No offense, but you’re not really a light treader.”
She had to laugh. If felt good and lightened that tight feeling in her chest. Playing it cool had never been her strong suit. She’d always been more confrontational, speaking her mind and dealing with the consequences. “I might surprise you.” Or not, she thought, realizing that if anyone knew her, it was Pickett.
He’d seen her at her worst and her best over the years. A gawky fourteen-year-old when she’d met him for the first time on one of the many occasions she’d trespassed on the McKenna Ranch. She and Duffy had been friends since they were kids. Pickett and Duffy were already headed toward being best friends, but from that day on, she became part of the threesome.
Not all that much had changed—until tonight. Which made it hard to understand her reaction to this man she’d known for years.
“It isn’t like your mother doesn’t already know how you feel about drilling—especially on the Stafford Ranch,” he said. He had never seemed to feel the need to fill the quiet. She realized that his nerves were as tense as her own right now.
She could hardly breathe as Pickett moved a little closer. She saw the need in his eyes as he reached toward her and brushed back a lock of her hair, his gaze never leaving hers. His callused fingertips felt just as she knew they would when they brushed her forehead. “Oakley.”
Down the hall, a door burst open, noise and people spilling out. Pickett looked as if there was something more he wanted to say, to do, but the meeting had ended; people streamed out, filling the hallway with raised voices and commotion. Pickett dropped his hand to his side, looking as disappointed as she felt.
Duffy joined them, throwing an arm over Oakley’s shoulder as he had since they were kids and said, “We might have problems. Let’s talk in the truck.” He looked at her then, his gaze going from her to Pickett before he asked, “You okay? I was worried when you left the meeting.”
“Fine.” She looked past him to Pickett. Their gazes locked for only an instant, the moment between them gone, but not forgotten—at least not by her—as the three of them left.
*
ABIGAILCREEDGREETEDthe sheriff at the door with a kiss. The scent of dinner wafted out as she led him into the small house she rented behind the hospital. Powder Crossing was a typical small Montana town, but back in its day it had been a stage stop for travelers from Deadwood to Miles City.
Back then, there was the Belle Creek Hotel, still standing today, but little else was left of the original town. Now Powder Crossing had a community church, a café, a bar, a grocery, a convenience store that sold gas out front and muck boots, overalls, rope and feed in the back, a hotel with its own bar and a part-time post office.
