Elizabeth August - Marrying O'malley

His expression turned grim. “Except where my stepmother is concerned.” He understood her very well. She was spoiled and selfish and would use any means to achieve her aims.

He smiled to himself as he put his clothes in the bureau. He’d come prepared to fight for the land that was his. Now there would be no need. Not only did he have the land, but a chunk of his father’s wealth would be his along with a percentage of the family business. And he planned to make his presence felt.

The slamming of a car door caught his attention.

“Where is he?” a familiar female voice demanded.

Wolf strode down the hall, halting a few feet from the front door as Katherine pushed open the screen door and entered. “So you are alive.” Her gaze raked over him. “I was in Houston when Greg called to tell me the news. I had to come see for myself. ”

“Greg Pike?” Wolf spoke in an easy drawl, keeping his posture relaxed as if her presence was of little concern. “Bradford did tell me you’d hired him to be your lawyer. Bradford said you even tried to have him removed as executor of my father’s will and Pike put in his place.”

Fury flashed in Katherine’s eyes. “Bradford Dillion was your father’s lawyer. He has never had my best interests at heart.”

“Bradford Dillion is an honorable man.”

Katherine shrugged as if that meant nothing to her, then her expression turned icy. “I didn’t come here to discuss Bradford Dillion. How much is it going to cost me to get you out of my life?”

“I’m planning on staying. My roots are here.”

Katherine’s cheeks flushed with rage. Issuing a snort of disgust, she pivoted and strode out of the house, ignoring both Sarita standing in the living room doorway and Luis who had risen and followed in Katherine’s wake to the screened door.

“So you’re gonna build yourself a home on Willow’s land?” Luis asked as Katherine’s car sped away.

Wolf shrugged. “Haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. But there’s no reason for Katherine to know that.”

Sarita eased back into the living room out of view of the men and drew a long, calming breath. She had tensed during the confrontation between Katherine and Wolf, her body readying itself to intercede if Katherine tried to harm him. Shaken by the strength of this unexpected instinct to protect him, she continued into the kitchen and sank into a chair at the table. Get a grip, she told herself. Wolf O’Malley was the last person in the world who needed or wanted her protection.

“I apologize for that scene just now.”

Sarita jerked around to see Wolf crossing to the sink. The kitchen was the largest room in the house and had always seemed spacious to her until this moment. His presence suddenly made it seem small and crowded. Not wanting him to guess he was the reason she was so shaken, she said, “Your stepmother has always scared me a little.”

“She’s always scared me, too,” he admitted with a crooked grin.

The unexpected boyishness on his face caused a curious curl within her.

“Glasses?” He motioned toward the cabinets.

“The one to your right.” Remembering her manners, she added quickly, “Would you like some iced tea or soda?”

“Just water.” Running a glassful, he drank half, then leaning against the counter, studied her thoughtfully. “The way I remember it, you and I didn’t get along very well from day one.”

Her gaze rested on his well-worn boots as her mind flashed back to their childhood. About a mile and a half farther down the road that ran in front of her grandfather’s home, Frank O‘Malley had built Willow O’Malley stables and corrals on the property that had been Willow’s dowry so that she could keep horses and ride her land when she pleased. Even before he could walk, Willow would bring her son out to ride with her.

Frank O’Malley had hired Luis to caretake the stables and corrals and tend the horses. When Sarita was barely five, Luis began taking her along with him, thus hers and Wolf’s paths had crossed very early. She raised her gaze to his face. “You were always trying to boss me around.”

“You were always doing something that could get you hurt.”

The same reproving tone he’d used when they were both seven years old laced his words and, as they had those many years ago, her eyes flashed with defiance. “We had a couple of horses, and I had my own pony. My grandfather had taught me all about taking care of them. I knew what I was doing.”

Wolf remembered the small, dark-haired girl who had glared at him just as the woman she had become was glaring at him now. “Guess we still know how to get on each other’s nerves.”

“Seems that way,” she admitted.

Another memory of their distant past returned. “You still owe me a thank-you,” he said.

Sarita knew what he was talking about. They’d been fourteen at the time. She’d been out riding alone and her horse had been spooked by a snake and thrown her. When the horse came back to the barn alone, her grandfather had organized a search. It had been Wolf who had found her. Despite their combative association, she’d experienced a tingle of excitement that he’d been her rescuer. Then he’d spoiled everything. “Enduring a half hour lecture from you in that know-it-all tone of yours killed any gratitude I was feeling.”

Wolf recalled her sitting on a rock, her shirt torn and leg bloodied. He’d hated seeing her injured. Even today the memory bothered him. “You shouldn’t have gone out riding alone.”

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. “I was old enough not to need a chaperon.”

“Obviously you weren’t.”

“We were the same age, and you thought you were old enough to go riding alone,” she snapped.

Wolf eased himself away from the counter. “Looks like we still mix like oil and water.” Striding to the door, he paused and looked back. “Thought maybe you were stopping by my grave because you felt bad about our fighting all the time. Guess I was wrong. Seems that’s part of our nature.”

As his footfalls echoed down the hall, Sarita fought the urge to scream. No one could rile her the way Wolf O’Malley could.

Chapter Three

Sarita had just put the corn bread in the oven when again the sound of a car coming down the drive caught her attention. Setting the timer, she headed to the front door. Through the living room window, she saw the red, convertible sports car come to a halt. A curl of dislike wove through her as the pretty, blond-haired driver emerged. Janice DuPree Corbett was a couple of years younger than Sarita. A member of Katherine’s social circle, she considered anyone outside of that circle dirt under her feet and to be ignored.

“Wolf! I had to see for myself. You really are alive,” Janice drawled, her expertly made up lips curving into a smile as she approached the porch. “Now, you’re a sight I never thought I’d see again.”

Choosing not to continue to the front door, but instead moving to the window, Sarita saw Wolf ease himself off the porch railing and into a standing position to welcome the newcomer. Luis rose, also.

Reaching the level of the porch, Janice hugged Wolf.

“I was in Houston all day. When I got home, there was a message on my answering machine from my mother telling me you were back in town. I just couldn’t believe it.”

Sarita noted that Janice had not even glanced toward Luis.

Realizing his presence was not going to be recognized by Wolf’s visitor, Luis reseated himself and returned to his whittling.

Janice’s gaze shifted from Wolf to the house. “And why in the world are you staying here?” The implication that this ranch was much too far beneath him was clear in her voice. A sensual smile spread over her face. “You’re welcome to come stay with me.”