ThE BUCKHORN LEGACY

Casey cocked one eyebrow and gave Emma an assessing look. “You’re not staying with your mother?”

“No.” Just the thought of seeing her mother again, of being back in the house where her life had been so miserable, made Emma’s stomach churn. Because Casey couldn’t possibly understand her reserve, she scrambled for reasons to present to him, but her wits had gone begging. It didn’t help that Damon was deliberately provoking Casey, suggesting an intimate relationship that didn’t exist. “The house is small, and my mother… Well, I, ah, thought it’d be better if…”

Before she could say any more, Damon was there. “We’ve been driving for hours,” he interjected smoothly, “and we’re both exhausted. Just let us grab a few things and we can stop holding you up.”

Casey frowned. “You’re not holding me up.”

“I need to be going,” Kristin said, clearly miffed by the turn of events and the way everyone ignored her. Her tone turned snide and her eyes narrowed on B.B. “But I have my cat in the car and she doesn’t like strangers. She especially doesn’t like dogs. Casey, you know she’ll have a fit if we try to put another animal in there with her. Besides, there’s not room for everyone.”

Casey turned to Emma with a shrug. “I’m afraid she’s right. Kristin treated me to dinner because I agreed to help her move.”

Laying a hand on his chest, Kristin turned her face up to his. “You know that wasn’t my only reason.”

Casey countered her suggestiveness with an inattentive hug. “We’ve got the last load in the car now. The floor and the backseat are already packed.”

Damon brought Emma a little closer, and no one could have missed the protectiveness of his gesture. Emma refrained from rolling her eyes, but it wasn’t easy. She was the last woman on earth in need of protection, but Damon refused to believe that.

“No problem.” The baring of Damon’s teeth in no way resembled a smile. And if Emma didn’t miss her guess, he was relieved to send Casey away. She only wished she felt the same. “Perhaps you could call us a cab, then?”

“No cabs in Buckhorn. Sorry.” Reflecting Damon’s mood, Casey looked anything but sorry by that fact. “And you know, if you don’t get to the Cross Roads soon, you’ll get locked out.”

“Locked out?”

“Yep.” Casey transferred his gaze to Emma—and his eyes glittered with a strange satisfaction. “Emma, you remember Mrs. Reider? She refuses to get out of bed to check people in after midnight.” He lifted his wrist to see the illuminated dial on his watch. “That gives you less than fifteen minutes to make it there.”

The beginning of a headache throbbed in Emma’s temples. She rubbed her forehead, trying to decide what to do. “It was difficult enough convincing her that B.B. wouldn’t be a problem.”

Casey lifted an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you could convince her. She’s not big on pets.”

“Paying a double rate did the trick. And I just know she’ll still charge us if we don’t make it there on time. Her cancellation policy is no better than her check-in policy.”

Casey’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “She’s the only motel in town. She can afford to be difficult.”

“Damn.” Damon started to pace, which truly showed his annoyance, since Damon normally remained cool in any situation.

Casey stopped him with a simple question. “Can you drive stick?”

Somewhat affronted, Damon said, “Of course.”

“Great.” Casey pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Damon, who caught them against his chest. “Why don’t you take Kristin on home? The Cross Roads Motel is on the way. You can stop and check in, get your room keys, and then after you get Kristin unloaded, you can come back for us.”

Damon idly rattled the keys in his palm, looking between Casey and Emma. “Us?”

“I’ll stay here with Emma and B.B.”

Emma nearly strangled on her own startled breath. Seeing Casey so unexpectedly had unnerved her enough. No way did she want to be alone with him. Not yet. “I can drive a stick.”

B.B. looked at her anxiously and took an active stance. His muscles quivered as if he might leap after her if she tried to leave.

“Right.” Damon sent her a look. “And you really think he’ll stay alone with me on an empty street while you ride off with a stranger? He’ll have a fit. Hell, he’d probably chase the car all the way into town. It’d be different if we were at the motel and you left, but out here…”

“Okay, okay.” Damon was right. B.B. was so defensive of her, she often wondered if he hadn’t been a guard dog in another life.

“Besides,” Damon added, further prodding her, “the room is held on my credit card.” He stared at Emma hard, undecided, then abruptly shook his head. “Hell no. Let’s forget this. It’s already late, so what’s a few more hours? We can wait for Triple A and then find a motel back on the highway to stay in for the night.”

Emma gave that idea quick but serious thought, and knew the only reasonable thing to do was to stop acting like a desperate ninny. She couldn’t imagine finding another motel that would allow her to bring B.B. inside. Besides, Damon had driven most of the hours, and despite his suggestion, he looked exhausted. B.B. wasn’t in much better shape.

She’d stopped being selfish long ago.

“It’s all right, Damon.” She gave him a smile to reassure him. “I’m beat and so are you. You go on, and B.B. and I’ll wait here.”

Kristin crossed her arms and struck a petulant pose. “Don’t I get a vote on this?”

Casey spared her a glance. “Not this time.” Then he added, “And, honey, don’t pout.” He walked her to the car, his large hand open on the small of her back, urging her along while he spoke quietly in her ear.

Damon used that moment to pull Emma aside. He practically shoved her behind the open driver’s door and then bent close. “Dear God,” he muttered, holding his head. “I can understand why he became your adolescent hero, Emma. He’s testosterone on legs.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh at Damon’s look of distaste. He wasn’t into the whole machismo display. Damon was far too refined for that, a man straight out of GQ. He also knew exactly how to lighten her mood. Not that he was wrong, of course. If anything, Casey was more ruggedly masculine now than he’d ever been.

Emma decided to tease him right back. “I hate to break it to you, Damon, but he’s obviously into women.”

Refusing to take the bait, Damon glanced over at Kristin with critical disdain. “I’m into women. He’s obviously into twits. There is a difference.”

Casey and Kristin were still in quiet conversation, their bodies outlined by the reaching glow of the car lights. “You really think so?”

“That she’s a twit? Absolutely.”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” She swatted at him and stifled a laugh. “I mean, do you think they’re a couple?”

“Worried?”

Damon knew better. She wouldn’t be in Buckhorn long enough to get worried about Casey and whom he might or might not be involved with. Probably his girlfriends were too many to count, anyway. Until he’d turned sixteen, Casey had been raised in an all-male household. Sawyer and his three brothers had been the most eligible, respected and adored bachelors in Buckhorn. One by one they’d married off, starting with Casey’s father. But Casey had inherited a lot of their appeal and long before Emma had left town, the females had been chasing him. “Only curious. I haven’t seen him in so long.”

Damon’s look plainly said yeah, right. “I think he wants to be into her, if you need true accuracy. Whether or not he likes her—who knows?” Then he added with more seriousness, “You know to most men, liking and wanting have nothing in common.”

That was Damon’s staunchest requirement. He had to genuinely like and respect a woman to decide to sleep with her. Intelligence sat high on his list, as did motivation and kindness. The second a woman got gossipy or catty, he walked away. Unlike many of the men she’d known through the years, Damon wasn’t ruled by his libido. Emma respected him for that, even while she knew he’d be a tough man to please.

Again Emma chuckled, but her humor was cut short as Casey called, “You ready to go?”

Damon ignored him as he cupped Emma’s face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Will you be okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Too fast, doll. That was nothing more than an automatic answer.”

“But true nonetheless.”

He waggled her head. “Just be on guard, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’m not made of glass,” she chided.

“No, it’s sugar I think.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, nipped her knuckles and said, “Yep, sugar.”

Emma was well used to that teasing response—he’d been saying it to her since she was seventeen years old, when they’d first met. She’d been backward, afraid, alone. And he’d treated her like a well-loved kid sister.

Laughing, she turned toward the other car, and caught the censure on Casey’s face. He didn’t say a word, but then he didn’t have to. She knew exactly what he thought. And none of it was nice.

Worse, none of it was accurate.

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