CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Lance~
Amber had done something to her hair. Curled it or something. It hung loose and the thick, dark waves framed her flushed and beautiful face. She had changed her shirt too. The silky purple and black blouse followed the line of her bosom and hinted at the curve of her waist.
“You look especially pretty,” Lance said inadequately. He was immediately reminded that a shave and a clean shirt had done nothing to alter his disfigured face. He had tried growing a beard, but his skin was so damaged that his beard grew only in patches. The result was even grimmer than when it was clean-shaven.
“I made popcorn and hot chocolate,” she said shyly.
He took his parka off and hung it beside hers. Placed his shotgun against the door jamb. Her bed was made up and covered with a quilt and cushions. She had pulled her little table beside the single armchair and arranged the food on it. One of the two straight-backed chairs was set on the other side. She waved him towards the armchair and they enjoyed a polite skirmish which he lost.
“I didn’t know if you like marshmallows.” She picked up her mug where three tiny ones floated.
He shook his head. “Bit too sweet for me.” He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. She had made it from scratch and it was bracingly chocolaty and barely sweet. “This is delicious.”
Belatedly he realized that she was nervous. Probably afraid that having invited himself over, he would force himself on her. How could he reassure her without making her more self-conscious? He took a larger sip and reached for a handful of popcorn.
She took some too. Like the hot chocolate, the popcorn was homemade with just the right amount of butter and salt. He glanced around. Yup, she still only had one hotplate and a microwave.
“Did you make this on your hot plate?” he asked.
She shook her head. Her curls bounced and her smile broadened. “In the microwave. My sister and I worked out a way that is faster and doesn’t set off the smoke detector.” She pointed to the plastic device on the ceiling.
“Cooking alarm,” he said and she laughed. He helped himself to more. “It’s really good.”
“Thank you.” Her nervousness was back. She cleared her throat and spoke. “I guess now that Laura has had her babies, she will be able to keep the ranch.”
Lance raised his brows. “What do you know about old Clive’s will?”
“Just that he left one that sure set the cat among the pigeons! Not just here in Colorado. He made a passel of trouble for my folks in Washington State too.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Clive Bascom was a mean old goat, if there ever was one. I didn’t have much to do with him, myself, but I got to listen to him harassing Zeke, Patrick and Calvin. They’d show up for a visit and, without fail, he’d start in on them neglecting their true duty. By which, if you can believe it, he meant resigning from the military. And Major Bascom was in Special Forces, with I don’t know how many decorations.”
“I heard he put it in his will that Zeke, Pat and Calvin couldn’t inherit unless they resigned,” Amber responded in horrified accents. “Is that even legal?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But if it isn’t illegal, it sure ought to be.”
“Say that again. Half of my cousins are in the military, and the other half would like to be.”
“It’s the same back home in Tennessee,” he assured her. “Anyways, I do know that Miss Laura got the lawyers to waive that condition, although I couldn’t say how. But that still left her to cope with the stipulation that she marry and have a child if she wanted title to the Double B. Which was just wicked, considering she had been running the ranch and the stud for Clive for over ten years.”
“What a way for family to behave.” Amber shook her head. “But now that she has a husband and two children, Laura must get to keep the ranch for good, right?”
“I’d guess so. And a good thing too. The alternate heirs are those cousins who tried to kill her and Steve last year.”
“Gosh.” She was shocked all over again. “I guess that fits in with how Clive left money to my step-grandma.” He drained his mug and she got up and fetched a thermos. “Would you like another cup?”
“Thank you.” He sipped. It was just as good. “Your step-grandma?” he prompted.
“My Grandma Shirley was Clive’s love child,” she almost whispered. A blush stained her cheeks. “He left her money and you never saw a ruckus like my kinsfolk kicked up in French Town, fighting over it. There’s still a lot of bad feeling and a lot of it is focused on Patrick, because he was the one handling the money.”
“I don’t understand. If the bequest was for your grandma,” he ignored the issue of illegitimacy, “Why was there a problem at all?”
“By the time Clive Bascom passed, Grandma Shirley was long gone herself. The family started fighting over this new money.” Amber sighed. “Her will said she left her money to me and Heather, but the rest of the family didn’t see it that way. In the end, Patrick set up a scholarship fund in Grandma Shirley’s name and married Heather. He keeps trying to give me money, but no way.” She pressed her lips together tightly.
“Hmm.” Best not to comment on that. “Is that bad feeling why you came out to Colorado?”
“Partly. Mostly I was tired of being gossiped about.” She held out the bowl without saying what the gossip was about. “More popcorn?”
He took a big handful. She passed him a paper napkin. “Think you’ll ever go back?” he asked.
“Calvin says he will take me home as soon as my sister’s babies are out of the hospital.”
He could take a hint. “How are they doing?”
“Plumping up.” She reached into her hip pocket and produced her cell. “See.”
The babies seemed to have fewer wires and tubes than before. They were still thin and their eyes were shut. But fans of lashes lay on rosy cheeks instead of being obscured by swollen eyelids. “They’re bigger,” he said, which was true.
She sighed. “Not big enough to go home. Laura and Steve are so lucky.”
“They are. But it won’t be long before your sister will be taking her daughters home. In another year, this anxious period will be history, and those girls will be toddling around shouting at their Aunt Amber.”
She brightened. “They will, won’t they?”
“You bet.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed. He wanted to kiss her, but her chair was just too far away – deliberately, he supposed.
She withdrew her hand and picked up her mug again. “What about you? Will you go back to Tennessee?”
“Just to visit. Nothing left there for me.” Which wasn’t as true as it had been. Somehow meeting Amber had made the old pain fade to unimportance.
“That’s too bad,” she said sympathetically. “It’s not just Tennessee. We have a major unemployment problem in French Town too.”
He nearly snorted hot chocolate all over her. As if! He settled for a half-truth. “That’s not exactly the problem in Falkirk. It’s just that all the jobs involve working for my cousin, and I can’t do that.”
“How come?”
“He stole my wife.”
“You’re married?” Her blue eyes went round with shock and her voice squeaked.