No, he smiled ruefully, he should take her up on her idea and marry her. That would teach her, wouldn’t it? Maybe then she’d find out how un romantic the ranching life really was and hightail it on out of here. Gabe’s smile faded. If it was such a good idea, why did it sit like a rock in the bottom of his belly? Must be the idea of marriage that disagreed with him, because it certainly couldn’t be the notion of her leaving. Hell, he didn’t even know her. But she sure smelled good.
Cursing under his breath, Gabe cast a final glance toward the kitchen door before trudging out to the barn. Why the hell did his mother—no, Rosa—have to instill such an overactive conscience in him? And how was it she hadn’t managed to do the same with his brother? Bart would have been up the stairs and fast asleep by now, his only concern being whether he would have company in his bed or not.
The full moon cast a shimmering yellow light across the yard, but even in the pitch of darkness Gabe would not have taken a misstep. He’d been born and raised right here on the ranch and not a day had gone by when he hadn’t made this trek out to the barn at least a half dozen times. He knew, without counting, exactly how many steps it was from the house, the exact angle at which it sat in conjunction with the house, and exactly where every nail had been hammered to keep the structure sound. He spent at least twice as much time out there than he did in the house and, truth be told, it wasn’t such a bad place to sleep. It was warm in the winter, cool in the summer, quiet, and at this time of night usually still smelled of clean, fresh hay.
So where was that familiar smell now? And even more disturbing, why the hell did it smell of honey?
Zeus nickered softly and tossed his glossy black mane.
“Hullo, ol’ boy,” Gabe murmured. “Looks like we’re going to be spending a bit more time together.”
He scratched the huge stallion’s ears and muzzle, whispering nothings to him the whole while. Everyone else in town, including his own ranch hands, referred to his horse as Satan, and that was fine with Gabe. The more wary a body was of an animal, the more they tended to respect it and keep their damn hands to themselves. More than one rancher in Porter Creek had lost horses to thieves in the last few years, but not the Calloways. Zeus was a force to be reckoned with, and the only one up to the challenge was Gabe. No one else would even feed him, let alone clean out his stall or ride him. Not that Gabe would have allowed it anyway, but there was a whole other story.
When Zeus was satisfied he’d not been ignored, Gabe mounted the ladder to the loft and flopped down on the huge pile of straw. The tiny window above his head looked directly back at the house, directly at the bedroom window where Tess lay sleeping. If he peeked out, would he see her there? She seemed to have a thing about looking out at the sky; first it was the sunset, then the full moon. Perhaps she was a stargazer too.
Cussing into the straw, he shifted and twisted in an unsuccessful effort to relax. Why the hell should he care if she was looking out the damned window or not? All that mattered was she was sleeping in the house while he was stuck out in the barn alone with his thoughts. Being alone didn’t usually bother Gabe; it gave him the opportunity to focus on the ranch, on what jobs needed to be done first, how much those jobs would cost, and how much profit he would make. Tonight, however, his thoughts were stuck on one thing—Tess Kinley.
She couldn’t stay—not in Porter Creek. It was too rough for the likes of her. She needed to live in a place where she could have regular milk baths, go to fancy dances, eat in those fine restaurants he’d heard so much about. She didn’t belong here in the middle of nowhere walking through acres of cattle crap and chicken slop. She didn’t need to be filthy bloody dirty from sunup to sundown, to sweat like a horse