A Real Cowboy Loves Forever (Wyoming Rebels Book 5)

by Stephanie Rowe

He realized suddenly that this blizzard was a gift, a gift that would sustain him when he walked out the door and returned to his life of chasing down scumbags who wanted to put a bullet between his eyes.

  Weariness settled on his shoulders, and he knew it was time to crash. For a brief second, he considered taking the moral road and sleeping in Ava's room to give them privacy. Then he looked at the old wood stove, and he knew that he would never leave them sleeping alone in a room where a fire was raging.

  A deep sense of satisfaction settled over him, and he couldn't help the small smile that played at the corner of his mouth as he added a couple logs to the wood stove. He then crouched beside the makeshift bed, and laid his hand on Hannah's forehead. He frowned when he felt how hot it was, burning his palm. He checked Ava's forehead, but hers was cool and dry.

  Something shifted inside him, something deep in his chest as he looked down at the two sleeping females. They were relaxed, utterly trusting that they were safe. They were in his hands for safekeeping, and he fisted his hands as he stood up, his shoulders tensing as he walked around the mattress to the couch.

  He sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, and pressed his face to his palms. Son of a bitch. How the hell was he going to do this for five days? He didn't know how to take care of people. Shit.

  With a low groan, he leaned back on the couch, and stretched his legs out. His feet hung over the arm, but he didn't care. He just grabbed a blanket, pulled it over him, and clasped his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, listening to their breathing.

  He hadn't gone to sleep in a room with someone else present in a long time. It should feel weird, an invasion of his privacy, a threat to the sanctity of his world. But he liked it. He liked listening to the two different patterns of breathing, to the sounds of the sheets rustling when one of them moved.

  He let his eyes fall shut, not planning to sleep, but so that he could better focus on their sounds, and on the feeling of deep peace that settled in him as he listened to them. He felt the muscles in his body begin to release, relaxing in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. His body felt heavy as it sank into the cushions. His shoulders relaxed, and his lungs expanded in a deep, slow breath that seemed to fill his whole body with the oxygen it was starved for.

  His breathing became even slower and deeper, matching the rhythm of Hannah's breathing. Not intentionally, but because his body was reaching out for her, wanting to connect to the beautiful energy that she generated so completely.

  He knew she was exhausted. She was sick because she had pushed herself too far. He wanted to know her story. He wanted to know Ava's story. He wanted to know how the two of them had wound up in a dilapidated rental in Rogue Valley, Wyoming with the rental trailer. Hannah's SUV wasn't cheap, so it wasn't because she was broke. So, why were they there? He wanted to know what happened to them, and he wanted to chase away the shadows that were in both their eyes. He wanted to bring light and happiness back into their world.

  He had no idea how to do it, because he didn't even know what light or happiness was anymore. But he had five days, and he knew that was what he wanted to do.

  He took a deep breath again, letting himself drift lightly off to sleep, dozing ever so slightly, not to sleep, but to restore himself so he could be there for them when they woke up.

  As much as he despised the scumbags that he brought in on his runs as a bounty hunter, he always felt like he was doing some kind of good in the world by making sure the dregs of society didn't run around free, like his dad had too many times.

  But as Maddox lay there, listening to the wind hammer the dilapidated house, breathing in the fullness of Hannah and Ava's presence, he realized that now was his actual opportunity to make a difference in the world. A real difference. A beautiful difference.

  Unfortunately, he knew he'd find a way to fuck it up.

  Because he wasn't the good guy.

  He was his father's son.

  He knew what his destiny was, and it didn't include this.

  But hell, he wanted to break that cycle. For once in his life, for five days, he wanted to break that damned cycle.

  The quick movement of the blankets awoke Maddox from a sound sleep. He sat up quickly, his gaze going straight to the mattress. The faint morning sun that had made it through the blizzard gave him enough light to see Ava sitting up, an alarmed look on her face as she looked around, one hand on Hannah's shoulder, as if she was trying to wake her up.

  "Ava." Maddox sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor.

  Ava spun around, her eyes wide as they settled on him.

  "It's okay, baby," he said gently. "Your mom has a little cold. She's sleeping. She's fine."

  Ava stared at him, as if waiting for more, her blue eyes riveted on him.

  He recalled then that she'd been asleep when they'd moved her to the living room. "We lost power in the storm. That means that we don't have heat or electricity, until I can fix the generator this morning. We moved the mattress in here where the wood stove is, to keep everyone warm."

  The wind rattled the shutters on the front of the house, and Ava jumped, her gaze snapping to the window that was rattling. Maddox could feel the fear emanating from her, and he swore under his breath. "I was going to get some breakfast. Hungry?" Food had always been a good distraction for him as a kid. He had no idea if it would work for Ava as well, but it was all he could think of. His experience with kids was limited. More than limited. Pretty much nonexistent, except for his occasional interactions with his brothers' kids.

  Ava stared at him for a long moment, and then she slowly nodded.

  "Great." He stood up. "You want to wait in here, and I'll bring out something? Or do you want to come in with me? It'll be pretty cold in there, so you'll need to wrap up in a blanket." He truly expected Ava to want to stay in bed next to Hannah, but she untangled herself from the bedding, and rose to her feet. She pulled a pink and white polka dot blanket around her, and held up her arms to him.

  The expression on her face was so trusting, that Maddox suddenly couldn't breathe. He just went still, staring down at the little girl holding her arms up to him, as if she truly believed there was no place safer for her than in his arms.

  Memories of his past raced through him, memories of a childhood hell that he'd endured, of all the lessons he'd learned about how brutal life could be. About how the only thing that ever came from reaching out to a parent was pain, the kind of pain that ate away until there was nothing left but a shell of humanity.

  And yet there was Ava, holding out her arms to him, still believing in safety and goodness.

  Of anyone she could have chosen to trust, the last person she should've selected was him, and yet in this moment, especially with Hannah so sick, he was literally the only one Ava had to lean on.

  Resolution flooded him, a grim determination to somehow find a way to be the solid core this taciturn little girl needed. He walked over to her and crouched down. She immediately slid her arms around his neck and he picked her up, settling her against his hip. She was so light, like a feather that could get caught up in a breeze and swept away forever. His arm tightened protectively around her as he leaned forward to rest his hand on Hannah's forehead.

  Her skin was hot, still burning, with sweat beading on her brow. Her eyes flickered open, fuzzy and glazed as she looked at him.

  "Ava and I are going to get some breakfast," he said gently. "I've got everything taken care of. You just go back to sleep."

  She nodded, mumbled something incoherent, and rolled over, closing her eyes again. His fingers drifted over her hair, noting the dampness from the fever-induced sweat. Ava's arms tightened around his neck, and he glanced down at her. Her eyes were wide with fear as she stared at Hannah, a look of such stark anxiety on her face that his heart, his long dead heart, turned over.

  "Ava. Look at me."

  The little girl dragged her eyes off Hannah, and stared at him, her face inches from his, her arms so tight around his neck, a
s if she was afraid she would get ripped out of his arms.

  "Your mom is tired because she's fighting germs. It's just a cold. She will be fine, and running around the house, bossing you around in another day or two. Do you understand? She will be fine."

  Ava just continued to stare at him, fear so vivid in her little face. That fear got to him, because he had seen that same kind of fear in the eyes of every single one of his brothers when they were kids, because they'd all grown up under the brutal hand of their bastard father. The expression on Ava's face was just like the ones he'd seen on his brothers' faces, and suddenly he understood. Ava had seen violence, the same kind of violence that he'd grown up with, that all of his brothers had faced before they had become big enough to fight back.

  Anger burst through him, a dark, black fury that wrapped around his gut like a vicious monster. He was consumed with the need to fight back, to cut down the darkness that was so rampant, to destroy the monster that had brought violence into this little girl's life.

  He swore at the sudden burst of hatred, so fierce that it shook him to his very core. Swearing, he shut his eyes, fighting to shut down the violence swirling through him. He didn't want Ava to see it on his face, to feel it in the tension of his muscles, to understand that her entire well-being depended on a man who had been born and raised in a life of violence.

  Her arms tightened around him, and he felt her rest her cheek against his shoulder. His eyes snapped open, and he glanced down, something inside him shifting when he saw her resting her cheek against him, while her eyes watched her mom. What the hell? How had Ava been so close to him when the surge of violence rushed over him, and yet her only response had been to lean on him, as if he was the protection against it, not the source of it.

  "Maddox?" Hannah's sleepy voice drew his attention, and he looked down at her.

  Her cheeks were flushed, and something tightened in his gut. He leaned forward and brushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek. "What can I get you? Some ibuprofen? You're burning up."

  She nodded. "There's some on the kitchen counter." Her gaze flicked to Ava, and he saw her notice the fear in the little girl's eyes. Resolution flooded her hazy gaze, and she summoned a smile, a brilliant, energetic smile that he knew took every core of her strength. "Hey, Ava," she said gently. "I'm going to be fine. I just have a little cold. Maddox is going to take care of both of us, okay? Everything is okay." She untangled her hand from the sheets and lifted it toward Ava.

  He saw her arm was trembling, so he quickly caught her wrist and gently lifted it toward Ava's hand. Their fingers intertwined, and he had a sudden urge to wrap his hand around their joined fingers, to hold them together, to somehow let them know that he would keep them safe, no matter what it took, no matter how much darkness lived inside him.

  Then Hannah lowered her hand, and the moment was over, his opportunity gone. Hannah snuggled back into the blankets, her eyelids already closing. Maddox took a deep breath, tightened his grip on Ava, and stood up. "You like cereal? I saw some sort of frosted fruit things in there. You like those?"

  A tiny smile curved the corner of Ava's mouth, and she nodded. Her gaze was riveted on him as if Hannah's endorsement of him had made everything okay. She was definitely more relaxed about Hannah now, maybe reassured by the fact that Hannah had woken up enough to tell her everything would be fine. But as Maddox glanced over his shoulder at sleeping Hannah as he headed for the kitchen, his gut tightened. She looked so small and exhausted in the pile of blankets.

  He needed to be there. He needed to be there for both of them.

  Chapter 13

  Hannah had never thought she would have a moment like this. Ever.

  Two days after being rescued from the deadly mattress by Maddox, Hannah was happier than she ever thought she could be. With a happy sigh, she snuggled deeper into the blanket, her head resting on a throw pillow on the couch as she watched Maddox read Ava's bedtime story. Ava was curled up on his lap, pointing at the drawings on each page as Maddox read the book and talked about the pictures. Hannah couldn't get over how gentle his voice was. This big, broad, rugged cowboy, talking about a flying squirrel named Norman, as if he was in awe of every tiny, furry creature ever created.

  Ava was clearly riveted by his storytelling, laughing every time he deviated from the words that she had memorized as a result of all the times that Hannah had read her that same book.

  Laughter.

  Hannah had feared that laughter was gone from Ava's life, but Maddox had brought them back to life. Lying there, on the couch, listening to the gurgles of hysterics from her daughter was the greatest gift Hannah had ever been given in her life. Who would've thought that a cowboy with dark, weighted shadows in his eyes would be the one to make her daughter feel safe enough to laugh again? Maybe it was all the time he'd spent reading to her. Maybe it was the hours he'd spent in the bitter cold working on the generator, until electricity and heat flooded their little house. Maybe it was the Mickey Mouse pancakes he had made Ava as soon as they had power again.

  Or maybe it was just the solid strength of his presence, because that's what was doing it for Hannah.

  "Okay," Maddox said, closing the book. "I think ten bedtime stories is enough for little girls who need their sleep. Time for bed, pumpkin." He kissed her forehead as Ava threw her arms around his neck, squeezing hard.

  Tears blurred Hannah's vision as she watched Ava hugging him. Somehow, Maddox was giving Ava the gift of learning that not every man would harm her. It was a lesson that Hannah had never had, not until the last two days of having Maddox take care of her and Ava while the fever had been raging.

  Tonight, she felt almost like her old self again, but she hadn't wanted to interfere in what had already become a nighttime ritual between Ava and Maddox. Somehow, Maddox was healing the cracks in Ava's heart, a gift Hannah would forever be grateful for.

  Ava finished hugging Maddox, and then ran over to Hannah, climbing on top of her with a mischievous giggle. "Oh, you think you can pin me down, so you don't have to go to bed?" Laughing with her daughter, Hannah swept Ava up in a hug and stood up. It was amazing to feel like her muscles would hold her again, and she hugged Ava to her as she carried her to the bedroom, feeling Maddox's eyes on them.

  Hannah took her time putting Ava to sleep, hugging her daughter, and singing the little songs that they had once sung together, back when she was Aunt Hannah, and not Mommy. Ava snuggled close, but her voice didn't join in the songs, and the deep sense of peace that Hannah had felt watching Ava and Maddox reading on the couch faded, replaced by the grim reality of life, of the depth of the damage that had been done to Ava's view of the world.

  She rested beside Ava until the little girl fell asleep, then carefully untangled herself from the blankets. Feeling sadness in her heart, now that she wasn't too sick to remember all the things they were facing, Hannah made sure the nightlight was on before she shut the door, leaving Ava to dreamland.

  She made her way back into the living room, where Maddox was sitting on the couch, watching her, as if he'd been waiting for her. He was leaning back, one arm trailing along the back of the cushions. He propped his feet up on the table, his jeans loose and low over his hips. He had on bright red socks that were much too cute for a man as rugged as he was. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt that had a loose neck that showed just enough of his collarbones to make her belly jump. He hadn't shaved since he'd been there, and his whiskers were thick and long. Not a beard. Just an incredibly masculine shadow along his strong jaw. He studied her, his gaze so intense that she felt heat rise to her cheeks. He was pure masculinity, strong and powerful, but his gentleness with Ava, and his kindness when she had been so sick were intertwined with who he was.

  When he'd been so solicitous when she was so ill, she had learned to trust him, to trust that he would be there for her, to see him as her support. But now that she was feeling better, suddenly, she didn't see him only as a healer who held the weight of her burdens in his arms
. He was also pure male, stretched out on her couch. With her daughter asleep behind a closed door, it was just the two of them in the small, contained space.

  Her pulse began to flutter in her throat, and she stopped in the doorway, suddenly nervous. Letting him take care of her when she was sick, and allowing him to nurture Ava were completely different than seeing him as a man, a man who could reach into her heart, and make her vulnerable.

  She cleared her throat, trying to distract herself from thinking about him as a man. "So, thanks again for taking care of Ava and me when I was sick. I really appreciate it."

  He nodded, still studying her. "That's why I came back. To help you guys out."

  Hannah shifted restlessly, torn between wanting to go over to the couch and sink down next to him, and wanting to flee to her bedroom. "Well, I appreciate it." Unbidden, her gaze drifted to his shoulder and his upper arm. The way he was sitting made his right biceps flex, and her belly jumped at the reminder of how strong he was. Strong enough to hurt her, if he wanted.

  The thought made her flinch, and she took a step back, her need for safety suddenly overwhelming her attraction to him. She was frustrated by the way her old thought patterns had sprung up, but grateful at the same time, because she was terrified by the direction of her thoughts, seeing him as a man, a deliciously sexy man. She cleared her throat. "I'm going to head to bed now. I'm feeling so much better, but I'm super beat. So, I'll just—"

  "I made some hot chocolate. Want some?"

  She hesitated. "You mean, the kind that Skip's wife used to make for you? The kind with melted chocolate and cream?" He had already treated them to the hot chocolate a couple times, mentioning briefly that he and his brothers used to spend a lot of time on a ranch owned by a man they used to call Ol' Skip. Apparently, it was the ranch that his brother Chase currently owned, that some of his brothers had built houses on with their wives.

  It was really good hot chocolate. The thought of snuggling down next to Maddox on the couch with a mug of it in her hand sounded infinitely better than sneaking off to her room because she was too afraid of her own feelings to be with him.