The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances by Lynn Hubbard Page A

volunteer to go with you?”
    He shrugged “Ordered, Volunteered, what’s the difference?” Brock took his hat off and hung it on his saddle horn. He then started undoing his shirt. Sabrina looked on in horror as his intentions sank in.
    “Wh…what are you doing?” she asked, not sure if a real boy would look away or not. Of course, a real boy would not ask someone what he was doing when it was quite obvious what he was doing.  During her moment of indecision, Brock had stripped down naked.  He had thankfully turned his back to her as he removed his pants.
    This, of course, gave her a great view of the backside of his body. She stood staring unabashed at his smooth bronze skin stretched taut over his back and buttocks. He was bronze all over just slightly darker on his arms where he was exposed to more sun.  He either skinny dipped a lot or…
    “You’re an Indian?” she found herself asking in surprise continuing to stare at his naked form as he waded into the cool water.  She was grateful and dismayed at the same time as Brock ignored her question and dove into the water. He popped up in the middle of the pond a few seconds later.  He tossed his head back to clear the hair out of his eyes as he grinned at her. The water weighed down his curls and they hung straighter and longer just curling a bit at the tips.
    “Sure you don’t wanna take a quick dip?” Brock asked.
    “I don’t have time to splash around in the water.  I need to get back to work and so do you.  Banks probably getting robbed as we speak.” She swatted  irritably  at the small annoying insects circling her head. 
    The water looked so cool and refreshing, she was sick with envy. She felt a drop of sweat roll down her back to be absorbed in the bundling she wrapped in to cover her breasts and make her waist straight. Defeated, she sank into the grass swatting at the gnats she’d stirred up.
    A thought suddenly popped into her head.  She probably stank. That’s why he wanted her to go swimming. She probably smelled of sweat and horses and poo. It was hard for her to sneak off and bathe undetected.  Plus, boys didn’t normally go for bathing very often. It had never bothered her before but all of a sudden, she wanted to bathe, to smell good, to be noticed, and all because of him. Sighing she gave herself a sniff. A bit sweaty but not too bad.  What the heck does one expect in Oklahoma in the middle of summer?
    After several minutes of swimming Brock regretfully swam over and climbed out. Sabrina forced herself to look away this time. Brock pulled on his pants and Sabrina took note he didn’t wear any under garments. Leaving his shirt off so he could dry off in the sun, he pulled lunch from his saddlebags.
    As he sat down across from her, she tried not to stare at his bare chest and muscular arms as he divided the food.  Mac had packed his specialty: roasted chicken and corn on the cob. Sabrina’s stomach growled as the wonderful aroma was carried to her by the light breeze.
    To distract herself, she tore into the food.  She felt she had never been so hungry before. It was as if her body craved food since she wasn’t satisfying its other needs. In addition, she figured with her mouth full she could not say anything stupid, right?
    Wrong.
    “How can you have curly hair if you’re an Indian?”
    Brock raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I’m an Indian?”
    She blushed at this; she couldn’t help it. “Um..well---you’re tan all over. I grew up with Indians; I must have been daft not to notice before.”
    “I’m half Comanche.”
    “Which half?” Sabrina asked, wondering curiously how he came to be.
    Brock laughed at that. “I’ll tell you another time.  What do you mean, you grew up with Indians?”
    Sabrina smirked back at him. “I’ll tell you another time.” Finishing her food, she stood up and stretched. Questions were bringing on more questions.
    “Why do you pretend to be white?”
    “I never said I was