“Watch out for snakes,” he advised.
Naomi didn’t like snakes or other
slithering critters but she did like being clean, so she watched her step, shed
Charlie’s clothes and plunged in the water, wallowing like a kid in the semi-warm
pool. Her hair hung in rough strands that would become snarled balls when dry.
She worked ineffectually at one tangle until she felt his gaze on her.
“I wish my hair was straight like yours,” she
muttered.
He held out his hand, indicating it
was time for her to quit the water.
“Just gawk at something else besides me,” she
told him, exasperated at his boldness when he didn’t look away. She covered her
breasts with one arm, her triangle of lower curls with the other and grimaced
at him as she emerged.
He snorted at her attempt at
modesty and wrapped the blanket around her, rubbing the drying cloth across her
hair. Then he handed her a tin.
“Work that into the snarls, then
rinse it out of your hair.”
“What’s in it?” she asked
suspiciously, sniffing the mixture. It smelled like him, or at least the spicy
wood scent she associated with him.
“Bear grease.” He grunted
impatiently. “Now rub it on your hair.”
It was odd how right away her hair
felt different. It hung in soft wet strands that felt like silk when she rinsed
his concoction from her head.
“It feels like when I was a child
and rinsed my hair in rain water.” She let her hands play down the silken
length and looked at him doubtfully. “Bear grease?”
“No. My mother makes it for me to use on my
hair,” he growled.
She’d noticed how shiny his hair
was. “It’s indecent for a man to have hair that hangs down his back and is
prettier than a woman’s.” The tart words escaped her before she could stop
them. Then she fastened on the important part of his sentence, excusing her own
rude comment.
“You have a mother?” She was
surprised. He didn’t look like a man with a mother, let alone one who made him
beauty products for his hair.
“Did you think I was born in a cave with
wolves?” He capped the tin and stuck it in his pocket.
“Does your mother live with the
Kiowa tribe?” she asked politely, ignoring his sarcasm because frankly, she
could picture him in a cave with wolves.
“My mother is Rachel McCallister of
the MC3 Ranch. She’s a white woman, like you.” While she digested that
information, he did one of his silent maneuvers, moving much closer, leaving
Naomi very conscious of his nearness.
“Sun ointment—should make your face
quit burning.” She could feel the heat from his body as he rubbed a different
salve on her cheeks.
His nearness and gentle application
of the medicine flustered her. No one had taken care of her since her sister
had left. Naomi had grown up taking care of others. Now this man leaned over
her and squinted as he dabbed another kind of cream on her cheeks.
“It does soothe the burn.” She couldn’t resist
touching his hand as he carefully applied the balm to her burned cheeks. “Why
are you being nice to me?”
She suspected that Charlie Wolf
never made a move that didn’t benefit him, but at this moment she didn’t care.
It was wonderful that he was showing her kindness during the day.
“Your skin’s too chapped. I want it soft under
my lips when I taste you,” he drawled.
“It’s daylight. We need to travel now that
I’ve rested.” Naomi blinked at him, confused.
“We’re hidden here and it’s a good
place to hole up until dusk. My horse will let me know if anyone or anything
gets close.”
“It was dark last night. How did you find me?”
Naomi asked.
“Old Mossy took a fancy to the
buckskin mare you pilfered.” Charlie’s eyes crinkled at the corners just the
slightest when he answered. “She’s in heat. He followed her scent.” The almost
smile changed to a frown and he asked, “Where the hell did you think you were
going?”
“The buckskin mare belonged to one of the
criminals you captured and I felt certain she was returning to familiar
horses,” Naomi answered smugly.
“And even if that blockheaded idea
was sound, you thought you’d just ride into an outlaw camp and do what?”
Naomi blushed and squirmed under
his gaze. Her plan had been more an impulse.
“Woman, you have no sense.” He shook his head.
Shrugging, he leaned close to her, his nostrils flaring as if testing the air.
“What are you doing?” she asked
nervously.
“Fixin’ your scent in my mind for if I have to
go chasing after you again,” Charlie growled.
His words brought a flush of
arousal flooding her body. She could smell him too and she liked his spicy male
scent. She was reminded that only a blanket separated her nakedness from
Charlie and her skin pebbled with awareness as her womb clenched. Thankfully he
didn’t notice her unseemly response and continued explaining his plan.
“The stars ‘ll be out tonight and
it’ll be clear enough to see.” He turned her toward the camp and her bed under
the tree. “Meanwhile, you can tender the next installment of your payment to me.”
“What?” Her voice sharpened, her
disappointment a twist of pain. He didn’t need to remind her that she’d traded
him liberties for his care. The hair and face creams seemed less special and
her momentary pleasure at being tended disappeared.
“How many such installments will it
take to close this account?” she snapped.
“Depends on the amount of danger I incur in
the course of the rescue,” he murmured, leaning over her to claim her lips. And
then his shoulders blotted out the sun and he laid her to the ground, coming
down on top of her.
