Honoring Freedom (Cowboys of Sagebrush Rose #3)

Chapter Four

“You got that?” Keller jutted his chin at the suitcase Freedom was struggling with. One of the wheels wobbled noisily.

“I don’t need your help.” She continued pulling the suitcase down the cobblestone walkway, blowing loose curls out of her face. The temperature was unusually cold and being on the mountain intensified the chill. He noticed that she gave a shiver even though she wore a thin jacket and had broken a sweat in her efforts with wrangling the suitcase.

“Good, because I wasn’t asking if you needed my help. No one told you to pack everything including the kitchen sink.”

Before she had a chance to answer, he marched forward along the cobblestone path, feeling a rush of agitation. The ride to Catskills had been as unbearable as listening to her choice of music. He had a feeling she’d turned on the jazz station to test him. From the second they’d left Sagebrush Rose she’d made it clear that they would be behaving as business professionals the entire trip. They’d barely said two words to each other and when he’d attempted to ask her a question, she’d abruptly cut him off saying, “Let’s forego the small talk.”

Keller should have guessed she’d make the trip as painful as possible.

The weekend would be back-to-back auctions and then the annual rancher’s party on the last night. Things might be cut short if it became too intolerable, but at least if he needed to get away, he had acres of wilderness around the cabin to occupy himself. A bear would be better company at this point.

The cabin, a blend of rugged charm and comfort, was a haven for someone who loved nature. Keller loved nature. Sam had once told Keller that he’d bought the place as a getaway, maybe even spend his retirement there.

Keller searched the sun-dappled grounds and could see the rippling lake just beyond the row of tall, majestic trees. He wouldn’t have time to toss a line in the water. The air carried a scent of wood smoke from the neighbors on the other side of the lake. Otherwise, they were alone.

He stepped upon the porch, a wide veranda that wrapped around to the other side, inviting one to linger come evening. A hammock was attached to the roughhewn support beams that lined the rail. A sign hung on the door read, “Whispers of Wood,” flanked by lanterns.

“Misbehaving Daughters,” Freedom said to his back.

“What?”

“The code. Press the speaker button and say Misbehaving Daughters to unlock the door.”

He chuckled. It didn’t surprise Keller that Sam would find an opportunity to make a joke. He loved his daughters, no doubt, but they’d been the reason behind every grey hair on his head. The door clicked and Keller pushed open the heavy oak door then dropped his duffel bag near a stuffed wolf. The glass eyes stared back at him. Sam loved hunting when he was younger. A fact clearly evident in the stuffed deer heads hanging on the wall.

“That was Daddy’s one request when this place was remodeled. My sisters and I could choose the décor, but the heads and taxidermy must remain.” Freedom dragged her awkward suitcase to the middle of the room.

Sam hadn’t spared a dime when it came to the nineteen-fifties cabin. Obviously, he planned to spend time there, apparent in the remodel. The great room alone was a haven for the outdoorsman. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting a glow on the polished hardwood floors. A large stone fireplace took up an entire wall, with antlers and framed photos of Sam's daily catches adorning the mantle. Shelves were loaded with old leather-bound books. Plush leather sofas and overstuffed chairs bracketed a lavish bearskin rug sprawled out over the center of the floor.

Keller whistled through his teeth. “Sam spared no expense.”

“He never does.” She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the hook. She shivered and rubbed her hands together. “Think you can start a fire, cowboy?”

“Do penguins mate for life?”

She elected to ignore the question.

“I’m taking the bedroom upstairs to the right and you can choose yours, but I highly recommend you take the one downstairs.”

“The one we…?” He paused in stacking the logs.

“Yes, that’s the one.” She took on the daunting task of dragging her suitcase up the spiral stairs. The gentleman in him thought he should be kind enough to help, but she’d only turn him down. Freedom had more independence than would be considered healthy for her own good.

By the time he had the fire started, she’d made it back downstairs. She’d changed into a V-necked loungewear set that fit her curves nicely. She didn’t say a word as she sashayed through the great room, in her socked feet, and pushed through a swinging door that he remembered led to the kitchen.

Keller swore he wouldn’t follow, but he did.

The kitchen had been one of the remodeled rooms. The countertops with white and grey veins, the copper pots hanging from hooks, and the high-end stainless-steel appliances all screamed of a chef’s paradise which was a bit funny since the family had a cook. None of them knew their way around a skillet.

He found everything a person could want, but he didn’t see Freedom.

Inside the walk-in pantry, she was pushing around supplies on one of the shelves as if in search of something important.

“Daddy believes his stash is still a secret,” she remarked, revealing an unopened bottle of whiskey from behind jars of pasta sauce. “He’s not supposed to be drinking because of his heart.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t pour that out.” Keller recognized the expensive label.

She laughed and as she turned sideways to pass him in the narrow doorway, their bodies brushed. Their gazes met for a mere breath, and she continued shimmying past him. She was taking down glasses when he entered the kitchen. “I’d never consider tossing out Daddy’s Woodford collection. He might not have good taste in the rules he makes for his daughters, but the man is an expert when it comes to whiskey.” She removed the cap and poured a small amount of whiskey into each short glass. “You’re not one of those cowboys who prefers his cut, are you?”

“What do you think?” he said.

She handed him one of the glasses. “Cheers to Daddy’s good tastes in cabins and whiskey.”

They touched rims and he sipped, squinting as the liquid fire burnt its way into his stomach. He hadn’t had good whiskey in years. The bottle was above his pay grade.

Freedom placed the glass on the counter before pulling herself up to perch on the granite countertop. Her untamed hair framed her flushed face, her radiant skin untouched by makeup. When she noticed his gaze, her eyes met his with a striking blend of warmth and intensity.

“What do you think?”

“About?” he asked.

“Does it feel like old times?”

“Minus the deer heads and whiskey, yeah.”

She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of the glass as she stared at the ceiling. “I remember how we used to spend New Years here. Daddy always went to the country club's fancy events while my sisters and I played hide and seek, indulged in too many sweets, and hosted our own spa parties. Those were the good old days. I think we’re overdue for one.” She pointed a finger at something beyond his shoulder. “In that cabinet. Grab the other stash.”

He opened the glass door, rummaged around jars of sauces, and saw what she referred to. “No way. I love these things.” He took out the packaged brownie and tossed it to her. “You used to bring those to me all the time.”

She opened the plastic, broke off part of the brownie and popped the bite into her mouth. “There’s plenty more. Help yourself.”

“I think I will.” He leaned forward and broke off a bit from hers. “Mm. Still delicious.”

Her cheeks turned a blushing shade of pink. She set the brownie aside and rubbed her hands together. “You’re doing what you always said you wanted to do, Keller. I’m proud of you. It doesn’t seem that long ago that we were those two wild and crazy teens who had dreams they chased like tomorrow wasn’t promised.”

"You're doing great too, Free. You've really helped the local library. Raising money is tough, but you managed to get enough to build a new building and stuff it with books. I hear your after-school reading project for kids is benefiting the entire town. Not to mention your thoroughbreds are going to be triumphant in the breeding business."

She gave a curt shrug. “I’ve decided to leave the library, at least for now. I’d like to focus on the breeding industry.”

“As long as you’re happy. That’s what matters.”

“Of course.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I love working with Requiem and Midnight.”

“They’re great sires. Both have superb pedigrees that make them worth more money. Question, are we still keeping the lines drawn between business and pleasure?”

“Can’t business associates share expensive whiskey and killer brownies?” She gave a little laugh.

“We can do anything we want. I suppose.” He raised his glass to her and took a big gulp, watching her over the edge. “We can discuss more of your prized achievements.”

“You mean my ability to be a zirconium among diamonds?”

“Are you referring to your sisters?”

“Of course.” She took a drink and licked a drop of whiskey off her lip.

“Come on, you don’t really believe that do you?”

“Let’s see, Liberty and Honor have always been in the spotlight. They’re so busy outdoing each other that no one can keep up, not even Daddy. Justice, Hope and I never could seem to stack up against the twins’ accolades.” She reached for the bottle and poured herself a bit more. “I know that must sound chock-full of jealousy and envy. I love my sisters dearly, but it’s been a bit of an uphill battle all my life. Anyway, I don’t want to come across as the poor, sad sister who gets no attention. I like being on the outside looking in.”

“I never saw it that way.”

“If I remember correctly, you had a crush on…was it Honor? Was I second choice?” She lifted the bottle in a quiet query.

He held out his glass for more then he leaned against the counter near her. “I didn’t have a crush on her.”

Her laugh was more of a squeal. “Bullshit.”

Lifting his chin, he looked at her, locking her gaze with hers. “I didn’t have a crush on her. I was hellbent cockeyed by this quietly determined girl who had the best set of—”

“Keller!!!”

“Get your head out of the gutter. You had the best set of books.” The whiskey warmed his body and the tension dissipated. “I get the whole sibling rivalry thing. I can’t count the number of times my brothers and I competed against each other just because we could. I guess it’s like that for all families with a lot of family members.”

“Says the golden boy.” She wagged her brows.

“What did you say? This is my bad ear?” He cupped his ear.

“Your hearing is fine but nice try.” She hopped off the counter. “Anyway, I’m not impressed by a golden boy.”

Although he had to stop himself quite often from turning her over his knee, he couldn’t help but think she looked adorable when she tilted her head and her mouth twisted in a very kissable way. “Well, I’m not impressed by high maintenance women.”

She looked up at him through the veil of her lashes. “Once upon a time you didn’t mind.”

He stepped toward her and she backed up until she pressed into the counter. He imprisoned her with hands on each side of her hips. The only proof that she was caught off guard was the slight widening of her eyes. “I was barely a man caught in the snares of a beautiful girl who loved to drive me crazy.”

“How did she do that?” Her voice was so soft, he could barely hear it.

“She would look at me much the same way as she’s looking at me right now.” He picked up one of her curls and played with the strand.

“You’re delusional.”

He caught the hitch in her voice and the flushing of her cheeks.

“I’ll agree because I should be immune to all your tactics at this point.” He dropped the strand and it bounced against her cheek. “I’m starving.”

She blinked. “Keller…we can’t do this. It could turn ugly.”

He chuckled. “Good to know for future reference but starving as in I want food. I’m sure there’s something around here that we can eat.” He took a step back, giving her space.

“The pantry and refrigerator are always stocked. Daddy and Trinity come here often.”

“Can you still not boil a pot of water?”

“I take offense to that.” She angled her head haughtily.

“But is it true?”

"I haven't boiled a pot of water in ages," she remarked somewhat arrogantly.

“Then how about I do the cooking. I’m not a master chef but even you probably couldn’t go wrong in a kitchen like this. It practically cooks everything itself.”

She playfully pinched his arm. “Behave yourself.”

“Just please don’t grab a skillet and hit me with it,” he teased.

“With that, I’m going upstairs and taking a long bath. I think you and your ego can manage dinner.” Her smile could have won vicious battles.

He watched her walk away, feeling the stirring below his belt. Damn her. She’d roped him back in and he wasn’t fighting.