Free Claiming the Cowboys by Alysha Ellis Page B

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    “Jackson can be a bit difficult,” Hamish said. “He’ll be back.”
    Proving his guess correct, the screen door slammed against the outside wall. Jackson strode back in, a fur-felt stockman’s hat jammed on his head, tucking a fully buttoned khaki shirt into the waistband of his jeans.
    “Hamish, find out what she wants, then get rid of her. I’m going out to check the horses.”
    “Can’t it wait?” Sophie asked. A vision of what she’d interrupted danced in her head. She had to resist the urge to fan her face. “Nothing was so urgent a moment ago.”
    Hamish laughed. “It was getting that way.”
    Sophie’s face flamed in total humiliating embarrassment. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t talking about that!”
    Every word tightened the tangled knot she was creating. She shut her mouth with an audible snap.
    “Maybe you’d better have a drink,” Hamish said. “What would you like?”
    “The biggest scotch in the world,” she replied. But she wouldn’t be able to drink it. It was obvious the two men lived in the house. They had a lease. And an agent. She sighed. She’d packed bedclothes and pillows into her car, but she wasn’t going to be using them because she couldn’t stay. And if she couldn’t stay, she couldn’t drink.
    The nearest hotel was at least an hour and a half’s drive away. Since it was dusk, she’d have to proceed very cautiously to avoid the kangaroos and wombats that came out at night to feed and seemed to invariably end up in the middle of the road at the worst possible time. Driving was risky enough without adding alcohol to the mix.
    Before she had a chance to tell Hamish she’d prefer a cup of coffee after all, he pushed a cool glass into her hand, the contents a mellow gold, ice clinking softly against the sides.
    It was so tempting. She lifted it to her mouth, inhaling the peaty aroma of a good single malt. The smoky liquor moistened her lips. Then her self-discipline kicked in and she pulled the glass away.
    “I can’t. I’ll be driving.”
    “Why?” Hamish asked. “You obviously intended to stay here. You wouldn’t have arrived so late if you hadn’t.”
    “I thought the house was empty. I didn’t know…”
    “That Jackson and I lived here. I got that.” He slid his hand under hers and nudged the scotch upwards. “Go on. Drink it. You need to relax. We have a spare bedroom and we wouldn’t think of letting you drive again. You must be tired. Where did you drive from today? Muswellbrook? Scone?”
    “Sydney,” she replied on a tired gust of air.
    “That settles it then. It would be dangerous to send you out onto the road again after such a long journey.”
    “My welfare is not your responsibility,” Sophie said.
    “The health and safety of every living thing on this property is my responsibility,” Hamish replied.
    “How so?”
    “I’m a doctor and a qualified vet.”
    Sophie blinked. “Both? That’s unusual isn’t it?”
    He laughed. His teeth were straight and white and once again that surprising jolt of sexual attraction kicked in. “But you’re gay.” Sophie blurted out.
    This time it was Hamish who blinked. “I’m really not sure what that has to do with me starting out as a doctor then deciding I prefer to work with animals. And I’m not gay, I’m bisexual.”
    Sophie wished she could crawl under the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just opened my mouth and it came out.”
    “It’s better that you know. I wouldn’t want you to misinterpret anything.”
    His smile seemed to suggest he was telling her something more than the surface words. Rather than take offence at her crass comment about being gay, he’d felt it necessary to correct her.
    “We can discuss that later,” Hamish went on. “Right now we have a more pressing matter to deal with. You obviously came here expecting to stay a while.” His inflection rose on the final words, turning them into a question.
    He was owed an explanation and Sophie