WM02 - Texas Princess by Jodi Thomas Page B

back to her, his legs wide apart, his arms resting on the corral fence. The faint sound of a low whistle drifted through the air as if he were calming the horses. Even in the dark, she knew who it was.
    Tobin McMurray.
    Maybe her one real chance to escape before the cage door closed.

chapter 6
    Y
    Tobin tried to ignore Stella at breakfast, but it
    was hard to not be thankful for her buttermilk biscuits. They were, as she’d promised, the best he’d ever eaten. When he nal y looked at her, he was surprised that the biscuits didn’t seem to be the only things that had risen in the kitchen. Stel a’s bosom seemed to have doubled in size and looked like it might erupt out of her blouse at any moment.
    “You’re up early,” she said with a giggle. “The men who help out around here aren’t in until after daylight unless the senator needs them.” She glanced over at Anna. “Of course, that doesn’t include Dermot. He lights the morning res for Anna and banks them at the end of the day.” She smiled at Tobin. “He says he likes starting and ending the day at her side. Don’t you think that’s about the most romantic thing a man could say?”
    Tobin had no idea how to respond, but he tried to make conversation. “I like to be working by dawn.” He didn’t add that around Whispering Mountain, Martha threw out leftovers to the hogs by sunup. The memory made him wish for home, but he’d promised the senator last night that he’d stay another day.
    “You’re not romantic?” Stel a leaned closer.
    “No.” Tobin swal owed without chewing a bite. “I’m not.”
    He tried to keep his gaze respectable, but it wasn’t easy when she kept leaning over to pass the butter or to ask if he wanted more coffee. He remembered once Teagen had commented about a wel -rounded saloon girl in Austin during Tobin’s rst trip off the ranch. His older brother said that a man can appreciate beauty without making a fool of himself. Tobin, almost sixteen at the time, went back into the bar that night for another look and ended up climbing the stairs with the saloon girl.
    Every part of her was pretty, and when she undressed she smiled with a look in her eyes that made him feel drunk. In a violet robe that covered little, she’d taught him how to kiss and how a woman liked to be touched. She took her time, welcoming his advances as she told him al the things he could do to please a woman.
    When he unbuttoned his shirt, she saw his scar crisscrossing over his heart. She’d laughed nervously and asked about it as she toyed with touching the twisted esh as if she’d been asked to stroke a snake. He told her of his family and how he’d been hurt defending his ranch. He even told her of lying behind his horse with both of them bleeding. The outlaws kept yel ing at him, trying to gure out if he was dead so they could move on to kil ing the rest of the Mc-Murrays.
    Tobin couldn’t remember why he’d talked so much, it wasn’t his nature, but that night he wanted to be understood.
    Before he nished his story, he noticed that the saloon girl wasn’t listening. She pul ed her hand away from his chest and averted her eyes, and he knew she was trying to shove the ugliness from her mind.
    He’d been embarrassed, but he asked her to look at him, al of him. The scar was a part of him. He wanted her to see him, not just another customer, not just a damaged body, but him.
    He hadn’t come here to talk, he thought, so what did it matter? But suddenly the girl wasn’t nearly as pretty as he thought. He dressed and left money on the bed, deciding he didn’t want his rst or any time to be like that. He needed more.
    Looking at Stel a, her cheeks red from the stove and her eyes wide with possibilities, he found himself asking her if she liked horses. She answered with a giggle and he looked for his hat. As he stood, he pocketed two apples and thanked her for the breakfast.
    “Come back any time. The senator takes his