A Texas-Sized Secret Page 8

  The only reason she was up early enough to watch the sun claim the sky and begin to beat down on Texas with a vengeance was that Toby had woken her in the guest room so she could move into his bedroom while he went to work.

  Once in Toby’s bed, she’d tried to get back to sleep, but the pillows carried his scent and the sheets were still warm from his skin, and none of that was conducive to sleeping. She could have stayed upstairs and unpacked, but instead she’d grabbed one of Toby’s T-shirts and pulled it on over her maternity jeans—that thankfully didn’t look like maternity jeans unless you saw the elastic panel over the belly. She wore slip-on red sneakers and left her hair to hang in a tumble over her shoulders.

  Now she looked around in the early morning heat and thought how beautiful Paradise Ranch was. There were live oaks studding the yard, providing patches of shade under the already blazing Texas sun. A kitchen garden behind the house was laid out in tidy rows and surrounded by a low white picket fence in the hopes of discouraging rabbits. The corral was enclosed by a high fence, also painted white, and the barn as well as the bunkhouse used by the cowboys who worked for Toby were freshly painted in a deep brick red. Toby’s workshop was on the other side of the property from the barn and was the same farmyard red as the rest of the outbuildings.

  The yard in front of the house boasted a neatly tended green lawn. Summer flowers in bright jewel tones hugged the base of the big house. But the house itself was the masterpiece. Two stories, it was the kind of house you expected to see in a mountain setting, with cedar walls, river rocks along the foundation and tall windows that opened the house up to wide views of the ranchland. To one side of the house was a pool, surrounded by rocks and waterfalls so cleverly designed that it looked like a naturally formed lagoon, and the whole thing was shaded by more oaks and a vine-covered pergola. A wraparound porch held tables and comfortable chairs that signaled a welcome and silently invited people to sit and relax.

  This wasn’t her first visit to Toby’s ranch. She’d helped him design it. Helped to decorate it. Yet it all felt...different to her now. Not surprising, she told herself, since now she was living here. And awake way too early.

  She took another sip of her coffee and let her gaze slide across the trees, the field beyond the barn and then back to the corral where Toby was grooming one of his prized horses.

  Toby stood near the fence, brushing down a golden-brown horse whose coat seemed to shine in the sunlight. But as beautiful as the horse was, Naomi couldn’t take her eyes off Toby. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. She took another gulp of coffee and struggled to swallow past the knot in her throat.

  His chest was broad and chiseled, skin tanned, and every move he made had his muscles rippling in a way that made her think of those cool sheets and the wide bed.

  “Oh, God...” Hormones, she told herself. Had to be hormones running amok inside her. Pregnancy was making her crazy. It was the only explanation for why looking at her best friend could suddenly turn her insides to mush.

  She laid one hand on her rounded belly, and touching her baby seemed to ground her. Remind her of why she was here. What she’d agreed to. And for heaven’s sake, Toby was her friend. She had no business getting all ruffled over a muscular chest and a tight butt encased in worn blue denim. She shouldn’t even be noticing how the shadows thrown across his features by his cowboy hat made his face look sharply dangerous. And if she had any sense at all, she’d turn right around and go back in the house.

  “Naomi?”

  Oh, thank God. She turned to the open back door where Rebecca stood, holding out a sturdy wicker basket. “Yes?”

  Rebecca had graying red hair, bottle-green eyes and freckles sprinkled liberally across her nose and cheeks. She was a widow in her midfifties with two grown kids who lived in Houston. She’d been working for Toby for five years and lived in a set of rooms off the kitchen. And she couldn’t be more excited at the prospect of having a baby in the house to take care of.

  “I’ve got to get breakfast going, and you could do me a huge favor if you’d go collect some eggs for me.”

  “Eggs?”

  Rebecca wiggled the basket. “The chicken coop is on the other side of the barn. Just gather what’s there. Should be enough with what’s still in the fridge.”

  Naomi walked over, took the basket and handed her now-empty coffee cup to the other woman. “You know, I’ve never actually gathered eggs before,” she admitted, wondering why it sounded like an apology.

  “Nothing to it.” Rebecca was already darting back into the coolness of the house. “Just reach under the chickens and grab them up.” She let the screen door slam behind her, then closed the wood door as well.

  “Reach under the chickens.” Naomi looked at the empty basket, then lifted her gaze to the side of the barn where she could just make out another structure. A chicken coop. With chickens in it. Did chickens bite?

  “I guess I’ll find out,” she muttered and started walking. If nothing else, this should take her mind off Toby. For now, anyway. She was headed across the yard, in no hurry to find out what reaching under a chicken was like, when Toby’s voice stopped her.

  “Hey, Naomi, come on over here a minute.”

  She changed course and walked to the corral, swinging the wicker basket with each step. Toby watched her approach, and even in the shadow of his hat, she saw those aqua eyes of his shining. Then Toby flashed a grin that made her heartbeat jolt a little, and Naomi told herself to get a grip.

  Honestly, she’d always known he was a good-looking man. You’d have to be blind not to notice. But did he have to be gorgeous? Up close, his chest looked broader, his skin tanner, and every muscle seemed to have been carved out of bronze. She swallowed hard, forced a smile and said, “I’m supposed to be gathering eggs. Do the chickens mind?”

  He laughed.

  “Seriously,” she said. “How do you gather eggs?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “You’re a smart woman. You’ll figure it out.” Toby opened the corral gate so she could step into the paddock with him. “I wanted you to meet Legend.”

  The horse he held by the bridle was tall and golden brown, with a dark streak down the center of his nose. His big dark eyes locked on Naomi, and she said, “He’s beautiful.”

  “He is,” Toby agreed. “I’ve had Legend with me since I was a kid. He’s been living out at Mom’s ranch, but I brought him here to Paradise a couple months ago. He’s old, and I wanted him to live out the rest of his life here. With me.”

  “He doesn’t look old.” She reached out one hand to stroke the horse, but Toby grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Probably nothing. You just have to be careful around him. Like I said, he’s an old man now and pretty damn crotchety.” Toby held the horse’s bridle tightly so she could slide her hand across the big animal’s neck. “He gets so he doesn’t like anybody—even me,” he said, with a chuckle. “So I just want you to be cautious with him.”

  “Oh, you’re not dangerous, are you?” Naomi was no stranger to horses. It would be impossible to grow up in Royal, Texas, and not be at least comfortable around them. She’d never had her own horse and hadn’t really ridden much since high school, but she’d always liked them. And Legend, she could see, meant a lot to Toby.

  “You just like getting your own way, don’t you?” she cooed as she stroked and petted the horse. “Well, I do, too, so we’ll get along fine, won’t we?”

  “You the horse whisperer now?” Toby asked.

  She shot him a look from the corner of her eye. “He’s male, isn’t he? A woman always knows her way around a crabby man.”

  “Is that right?” One corner of his mouth tipped up.

  God, he smelled good. He shouldn’t smell good after standing out in the early-morning sun, sweat already pearling on his chest and back.


  “I’ve talked you out of every bad mood you’ve ever had.”

  He laughed again and stroked Legend’s nose. “Not much of a test, since I’m not a moody guy.”

  “Oh, really?” She tucked her arm through the handle of the basket and looked up at him. “When you couldn’t get the hydraulic lift to work on the patio table you built to go below ground?” It had been a terrific invention and one of her favorites that he’d come up with.

  A picnic table that seemed to dissolve into a patio, with the push of a button, it lifted, pieces sliding into place until it was a concrete-topped table big enough to seat six. When you wanted it, there it was. When you didn’t need it, it disappeared, leaving only a patio behind.

  “That was different,” he said, a slight frown on his face.

  “How?”

  “That wasn’t moody. That was frustration.”

  “Frustration is a mood,” she pointed out, pushing her hair back from her face. “But did I talk you out of it or not?”

  That frown slid into a smile of remembrance. “You did. Took me to the roadhouse for a beer and karaoke.”

  “You’re a terrible singer.”

  “But I make up for it with enthusiasm.”

  Naomi laughed and felt everything in her settle. This was good. Hormones aside, this was what she needed, wanted. This easy affection. They were friends, and they always would be. She’d see to that.

  “Okay,” she said, giving Legend one last pat, “now that I’ve won an argument—”

  “Not an argument. No one shouted.”

  “A debate, then,” she amended. “I have chickens to assault and eggs to kidnap. If you don’t hear from me in half an hour, come and find me.”

  “You’re taking this whole rancher’s wife thing to heart, aren’t you?” he asked, and his mouth was still curved in a smile.

  “If I’m living here, I’m doing my share of chores,” she said. “As long as the chickens don’t kill me.” She looked past him to the horse. “Legend, it was nice meeting you. Toby, I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  She headed for the corral gate and stopped when Toby laughed. Turning around, she saw that Legend had pulled free of Toby’s grip to follow her. “I’ve never seen him do that before,” he admitted.

  “I’m new here, that’s all,” she said and kept walking. But now she heard the horse’s hooves plopping onto the powder-soft dirt right behind her. Naomi stopped again and this time waited for the horse to come close. Staring up into those chocolate-brown eyes, she smiled and said, “You’re on my side, aren’t you?”

  The horse lifted his huge head then laid it gently on her shoulder as if giving her a hug. Touched, Naomi whispered to the big animal and stroked his neck as she would have a puppy.

  She looked over at Toby and saw amazement on his face as he watched her. And Naomi thought that maybe this was all going to work out, after all.

  Six

  The next couple of weeks were harder than Toby had thought they would be. Living with Naomi was both torture and pleasure.

  She was his friend, but more and more, he was noticing her breasts, her butt, her smile, her low, full-throated laugh that tugged at something deep inside him. Lust, pure and simple, he told himself. Now that she’d relaxed about her pregnancy and he’d gotten her to loosen up and actually eat real food, she was curvier than ever, and that was giving him some bad moments.

  He didn’t want to feel for her. Didn’t want to start feeling a need for more. But he didn’t seem to have a choice in that. Cursing under his breath, Toby grabbed a screwdriver, stepped behind his latest project in the workshop and tightened the screws there. He smoothed his thumb over them to make sure they were deep set, then took a long walk around the piece, inspecting every inch before moving to test the design. Better to keep busy, he told himself. To keep his brain so full of work it didn’t have time to pick apart thoughts of Naomi.

  The workshop was his sanctuary. When Toby had the ranch built, he’d had this shop done to his specifications. The floor was hardwood, as it was easier to stand on for hours than concrete. The windows were wide enough to let in plenty of natural light, plus there were skylights in the roof. The walls were peppered with sketches he’d stuck there with pieces of tape. There were walls full of shelves holding every kind of supply he might need. And the wall behind his bench was covered in Peg-Board so he could hang his favorite tools within easy reach.

  On the far side of the building, he had lumber, plastic, metal and vinyl and a table saw to let him cut anything down to whatever size he needed. This building was the one spot in the universe that was all his. No one came in here, so he was always guaranteed peace and quiet and the solitude he needed to spark ideas. He’d come up with some of his best stuff in this shop, and whenever he was here, his brain kicked into gear.

  Until lately.

  “Just keep focused.” He studied the raw version of his design, looking for areas he could improve. If it worked as it was supposed to, of course, he’d redo the whole thing in finer materials and, with patent in hand, get it onto the market. It was what he did, what he’d been doing most of his life. Taking ideas and making them real. A few of those inventions had helped him amass a fortune that had allowed him to buy this ranch and live exactly the way he wanted to.

  “And nothing’s going to change just because Naomi’s here,” he muttered. But hell, even he didn’t believe that. Things had already changed.

  Having Naomi around constantly was like having an itch he couldn’t scratch. He hadn’t counted on that. Her scent was everywhere. It was like she was stalking him. In his sleep, in the kitchen, hell, even here in his workshop he couldn’t get her out of his mind. She’d invaded every part of his life, and what was worse, he’d invited her in. He’d done this to himself by coming up with that marriage-of-convenience idea. Now his skin felt too tight, his mind was constantly filled with images of her and she was looking at him as she always had. As good ol’ Toby.

  “And that’s how you’ve got to stay,” he said tightly. Once he got used to her constant presence, he’d get over the whole want-to-strip-her-naked thing and their relationship would smooth out again. That would be best. He didn’t want any more from her than friendship, because anything beyond that was too damn risky. He could deal with the sexual frustration. But if she got any deeper under his skin, Toby could be in trouble. And he’d had enough female trouble to last him a lifetime already.

  So he deliberately pushed everything but the moment at hand out of his head. All he needed was to keep his distance from her once in a while. Clear his head. Get some space. Like today. Some time spent in the workshop, focused on what he loved doing.

  “Toby,” Naomi called, walking into the workshop. “You in here?”

  “So much for that idea,” he muttered. “Yeah.” He raised his voice. “In the back.”

  Sanctuary was gone now, so he braced himself for being near her. It was just as well she was sleeping in the stupid guest room, he thought. He didn’t know if he could take it, having her in his bed every night and not touching her.

  He heard her footsteps and could have sworn he smelled her perfume rushing toward him. Toby didn’t dare take a deep breath to steady himself—he’d only draw more of her into him. And he was already on the slippery edge of control.

  “Wow, you’ve been busy,” she was saying as she got closer.

  He turned to watch her as she approached and asked himself how any man could keep his mind on work when Naomi Price was around. Hell, she was his friend, and right now it felt like a damned shame to admit it.

  Shaking his head at his own disturbing thought, he turned back to the shelf unit.

  “I’ve got a few more projects hitting the market in the next couple months,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  One thing he gave Naom
i, she’d always been interested in his inventions. Wanting to know what they did, how they worked and how he’d come up with them.

  “There’s a self-leveling measuring cup—” He glanced at her as she came closer. “My mom loves to bake and complains that there are different kinds of cups. For dry or liquid. This cup does both and levels itself so you know you’re always right.”

  She gave him a smile, and it lit up her eyes. Toby looked away fast, but not fast enough. The pit of his stomach jittered, and a little lower, his body went rock hard. Damn it.

  “Your mom’ll be happy. What else?”

  She picked up a wood dowel and twirled it in her fingers. Those long, slender fingers with the deep red polish on the nails. He looked away again.

  “Something Scarlett wanted,” he said and made a minor tweak to the hydraulic system. Anything to keep his brain focused. “She keeps her vet tools in the trunk of her car and had one of those flimsy trunk organizers. The one I designed is heavy acrylic, with a hinged lid and compartments that slide out with a button push.” He checked the mechanism on the back of the piece again. “I figure it’ll be a hit with carpenters, plumbers, artists, even fishermen. They’ll be able to keep their stuff handy and safe.”

  “Wow.” She dropped the dowel onto the workbench. “Okay. Made your mom and Scarlett—not to mention millions of others—happy. What’ve you got for me?”

  He looked at her in time to see a wide smile flash across her face. What did he have for her? Well, now, that was a loaded question, wasn’t it? Rather than face it, he asked, “What do you need?”

  She propped one hip against the workbench, threw her amazing long copper-streaked brown hair back behind her shoulders and said, “Surprise me.”