To Tame a Cowboy (Colorado Cowboys #3)(9)

She side-stepped to untie her haversack from the saddle, but Brody beat her to that too. In no time, he hefted it down and over his shoulder as though he had every intention of carrying it to the house for her.

Flynn’s words from earlier in Fairplay rang in her ears. “Brody’ll need to go with you. Everywhere.”

Apparently Brody was taking his brother’s instructions literally.

She skimmed her fingers up Brody’s arm until she reached the strap. He reacted to her bold touch just the way she’d hoped. His eyes rounded, and he didn’t resist as she tugged the bag loose.

Her move hadn’t been fair, and as he stood motionless, not even breathing, she silently promised herself she wouldn’t use womanly wiles on Brody again. For now, though, she had to make sure both he and Flynn knew she didn’t need someone to shadow every step she took.

She hefted her haversack up higher on her arm. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help with the horses?”

“Naw.” He shook his head. “Go on to the house and get something to eat.”

“Thank you again, Brody.” She started across the stubby patches of grass, and with every step, she could feel him watching her intently. Halfway across the yard, she stopped and turned, expecting him to hurriedly pretend to busy himself with the horses.

But he remained in place, his attention boldly upon her, unperturbed to have been caught staring. His face was shadowed by the night, but there was no hiding how darkly handsome he was. And how appealing.

She could admit she had a soft spot for dark-haired and dark-eyed cowboys. But she’d long past decided feelings for a man didn’t matter. Or at least they didn’t matter with Chandler. With his auburn hair and hazel eyes he was good-looking in his own way, but she wasn’t attracted to him physically. Sometimes when choosing a spouse, other factors had to take precedence. And in Chandler’s case, his desire to help her family out of their financial troubles was more important.

Brody spread his feet and folded his arms as though he planned to stand there all night and stare at her if she but dared him to.

At the feathery flutter in her belly, she ducked her head and continued toward the house. She wasn’t planning to foster any attraction to Brody McQuaid no matter how eye-catching he might be.

Even so, as she strode forward, she was entirely too conscious of his attention to every swish and sway she took. When she reached the door, she was tempted to glance over her shoulder at him and was relieved when the door opened wide before she could manage a knock.

A plump middle-aged servant with a bright blue turban tied around her head filled the doorway. She fisted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at Savannah. “You must be the veterinarian.”

“Yes.” Savannah glanced into the hallway, the open doors on either side revealing a parlor and a dining room. She guessed the kitchen and perhaps a bedroom occupied the rear of the house. Although not as luxurious as Momma’s, the home was tastefully furnished with elegant items that had likely been imported from the East.

“Guess you better come in.” The servant’s expression was as welcoming as if Savannah had announced she was a dance girl from the nearest tavern.

Savannah entered and shrugged out of her coat. As she handed it off to the woman, she heard voices, one of which belonged to Flynn, coming from the parlor. He’d ridden home ahead, able to go faster without the injured mustang slowing him down.

He appeared to be in the middle of an explanation. “Brody yammered on more in a few minutes around her than he has in an entire year.”

A woman responded, but Savannah couldn’t hear over the servant’s rustling and huffing as she hung the coat.

“Couldn’t say no to him.” Flynn spoke again. “Not with the way she brought him to life.”

Savannah rubbed her arms and looked around, pretending that she couldn’t hear the conversation, which was clearly about Brody and her, confirming her suspicions about why Flynn had hired her.

A long silence ensued, followed by soft gasps and then womanly laughter.

The servant rolled her eyes, but a slight smile tugged at her lips. “Those two. Always acting like newlyweds . . .”

Newlyweds?

If she’d stayed at the Double L, tomorrow would have been her weddin’ day. She couldn’t imagine gasping and laughing with Chandler, not as a newlywed and not even when she was old and gray. He was a proper southern gentleman. He didn’t give way to displays of emotion. Even in the few private interactions they’d had, he maintained a measure of reserve. And he’d expect her to behave like a lady, just like Momma did.

“Guess you’ll be wanting something to eat.” The servant started down the hallway.

Savannah hesitated. She didn’t want to disturb Flynn and his wife and their newlywed activities.

“Come on with you,” the servant called. “You here now, you may as well eat.”

“Who’s here, Vesta?” came the feminine voice from the parlor.

“The lady you all going on about. That who.”

An instant later, a woman stepped into the hallway. She was straightening her short-waisted bodice and matching walking skirt, the fashionable style showing her to be a woman of some means. With long red curls hanging in disarray, the woman had a wild, almost exotic beauty to her. A smile curved her lips, making her breathtaking.