Free Lissa- Sugar and Spice 1.6 - Final

took off his Stetson, tossed it aside and decided he might as well play the scene for all it was worth.
    “What the hell,” he said. “You’ve got me. Yes. I’m Nick Gentry. And, look, I know that changes things a little, but—”
    “It changes nothing,” she said. “Except that I should tell you that I never saw a movie of yours that I liked.”
    Nick felt his jaw drop.
    She tossed her head, picked up her suitcase, moved briskly past him and went up the stairs. Halfway up, she stopped and looked back.
    Not at him.
    At the dog.
    “Brutus,” she said in a gentle voice that was completely out of keeping with the reality of what she was like, “do you want to come and keep me company?”
    “No,” Nick said sharply.
    Too late.
    The Newf gave a joyous bark and lunged for the stairs, bounded up them as if he were a puppy instead of an arthritic old man. Lissa Wilde smiled at him when he reached her side, ruffled his ears and said something soft and sweet.
    Then she looked at Nick.
    There was nothing soft or sweet in that look.
    “Just so we have things straight, Mr. Gentry, you can stop worrying.”
    “Worrying about what?”
    “I don’t know why you’re hiding out in this—this place in the middle of nowhere and, frankly, I don’t care. You want to play at being a cowboy? Fine. Be my guest.”
    Taken aback, Nick drew himself up.
    “I am not playing at anything. This place is mine. It’s a real working ranch. And I—”
    “And you are a real working cowboy. Got it. The point is, your secret’s safe with me.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. There is no se—”
    “Supper’s at six. I don’t do late kitchen duty. Not in a place like this, so tell your men to be on time if they expect the food to be hot.”
    Say something, Nick told himself. For God’s sake, say something! This is your house. She is your guest. Hell. She’s not your guest. She’s your employee, even if it’s only for tonight, so, goddammit, say something!
    Too late.
    The woman and the dog turned away and climbed the remaining steps to the second story landing. The woman didn’t look back.
    The dog did.
    For one crazy second, Nick could have sworn the dog was smiling.
    “Woof,” the dog said softly.
    Woman and dog made a left-hand turn.
    And then they were gone.
    * * *
    Lissa walked to the end of the hall and into the last bedroom on the left.
    The dog padded in after her.
    “Good boy,” she said, and dumped her suitcase on the floor.
    The room was awful. Cabbage rose wallpaper. Faded carpet of an indeterminate color. Oak furniture, each piece so big she could only imagine that getting it upstairs must have meant hernias, sprained backs, and lots of cussing.
    A porcelain pitcher and basin stood on one nightstand. She’d have shuddered at the sight but, thank goodness, she could make out a toilet, sink and tiny shower through a half-opened door just opposite the bed.
    Not that the plumbing or what passed for décor mattered.
    She was here for one night. It might well end up feeling like the longest night of her life, but one night was all it was.
    Tomorrow, Nick Gentry’s pilot would fly her back to civilization. She’d chew Marcia out for not checking things out before sending her on this—this wild-goose chase and—
    And, she’d be right back where she’d been all these past weeks.
    Jobless and rapidly working toward also being penniless.
    “Damn,” she said softly, as she sank down on the edge of the bed.
    Brutus padded over and put his massive head in her lap. He gave a soft whine and Lissa stroked his head and smiled at him.
    “I know,” she said. “You hate that I’m in this mess.”
    The dog whined again. Lissa reached down and hugged him. He was the only one she could rely on, the only one who gave a damn.
    Except, that wasn’t true.
    Her family would have done more than give a damn, had they known her situation. But she had not told them, nor would she tell them. They were all so