Her Forever Cowboy (Harland County Series Book 4)

by Donna Michaels

  He returned with the pills in one hand and her daughter in the other. “Here you go, darlin’.” He placed the medicine on the counter then grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and set it along side. “Now, how about some toast?”

  What was he up to? Why was he being so nice?

  “I can get it,” she said, making to stand.

  A large hand clamped around her shoulder as he gently but firmly pushed her back down. “But you’re going to appease me and remain seated until you’ve eaten. I don’t want you to fall or faint in front of your daughter, okay?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Amelia happily babbling to her teddy bear as she worked on her puzzle. Shayla had been through that first hand, having watched her mom drop dead right in front of her and her sister in their kitchen while the three of them had been washing dishes. Tightness squeezing her chest, she forced herself to breathe through the sudden onslaught of pain. At sixteen, it had been horrific. Caitlin had been twelve and scarred. Shayla couldn’t even imagine what would go through her young daughter’s mind, not understanding why mommy didn’t wake up. A fierce shudder wracked her body. No. She would never deliberately risk scaring her baby girl.

  “Okay,” she replied, turning back to face the kitchen. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He removed his hand, but not before squeezing her shoulder.

  The man vexed. Why was he being so nice? Better yet, why was he even here? Sipping her water, she watched the handsome man moved about her kitchen like he owned it, and contemplated the answer.

  Was he trying to put the moves on her?

  No. She mentally shook her head. At no time during this visit had any of his actions been sexual.

  Was he after her daughter?

  No. The cowboy had plenty of opportunity to take off with her daughter while she’d been asleep.

  Shayla scratched her temple and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, noting her hair felt limp and gross. Great. She must look absolutely horrid. Her chin rose. So what? She was not out to turn the man’s head.

  But she did want to know what was in it.

  Kevin set a plate in front of her with a slice of lightly buttered toast cut in half, then sat across from her and dug into his own.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, darlin’.” A broad smile dimpled his cheeks.

  “You know, I never did ask why you stopped by last night.”

  His gaze turned serious. “Yeah, about that…” He fiddled with his toast.

  Uh oh. Her spine instantly stiffened. So he had wanted something. She knew it. There was no reason for him to come over.

  “When I was younger, my mom had me take dance lessons from my former English teacher, Mrs. Avery,” he said, completely throwing her off guard. “She’s a great lady. Very funny, full of energy. You’d like her.”

  Having no idea where this conversation was leading or what he expected her to say, Shayla nodded and waited for the confusing cowboy to continue.

  “I stop by her house every week to check on her, and this week she asked me if you and I would consider representing her quilting circle in an upcoming dance-a-thon. The winner’s charity gets ten thousand dollars, but more importantly, exposure to their cause.”

  Dancing?

  Yeah, she definitely hadn’t expected the reason for his visit to be tied to dancing. For his former teacher. And for charity.

  Well, he stopped by for nothing.

  “I have to pass. I haven’t danced in years.”

  “You haven’t? What was the other night?”

  “A fluke.” She laughed. “I haven’t competed since I was a teen, and after I…injured my knee, that part of my life became history.”

  A deep frown marred his handsome features. “Did your leg hurt real bad the other night?”

  She shook her head. “No. It was just sore. Why?”

  “Good, then it shouldn’t give you a problem during our practices.”

  “Wait…our what?”

  And when the hell had she said yes?

  “Our practices. Mrs. Avery said we need to condition because stamina is key to winning the marathon.”

  The word stamina never ever should come out of that man’s mouth. Damn. The naughty thoughts those words conjured made her whole body tingle. She blew out a breath and shook her head.

  “Look, Kevin, I don’t think so. It’s just not my thing anymore. I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too,” he replied, disappointment dulling his gaze. “I don’t want to dance any more than you do, but this isn’t about me or you, darlin’. This is about the underprivileged children, the foster children and winning so their plight gains the coverage needed to keep them off the streets and in school.”

  Her heavy heart rocked in her chest. No one knew that plight better than Shayla. She’d been on the streets. She’d dropped out of school her junior year. Maybe if there’d been more funding, there would’ve been more families willing to take in someone like her. And maybe that family would’ve been nice.

  “You’re right.” She closed her eyes and sighed.

  If there was any way she could help a teenager in her former shoes, she just had to try. A different house could’ve made a huge difference; one that didn’t take in the maximum allowed just to collect the money, and yet hardly ever spend the money on the kids. One that would never allow some of the older kids to hit and bully the others.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the silent cowboy with a slight grin tugging his lips. Kevin Dalton had played her. He had played her well. But she owed him, so, even knowing her desire to help was somehow going to backfire, she caved anyway.

  “What do I need to do?”

  Tuesday evening, as he parked his truck in front of Mrs. Avery’s garage, Kevin had no explanation for the funny feeling in his gut. Unless he was catching that stomach thing Shayla had last week. Not a pleasant thought. However, he did wonder how the single mom was doing.

  Before leaving her apartment last Saturday, he’d filled the woman in on Mrs. Avery’s Tuesday/Thursday six-thirty schedule, along with the address. He glanced around the quiet residential street. No sign of Shayla’s red SUV. Would she even bother to show up tonight?

  Before that thought finished in his mind, the SUV pulled next to him in the driveway. Question answered. Now he wondered who he was going to deal with tonight. The sexy single mother? Or pain-in-the-ass redhead?

  A smile twitched his lips. Maybe a combination of both. His ideal woman.

  Slipping from his truck, Kevin waited for Shayla to join him on the driveway and silently cursed the rush of anticipation heating his veins. Damn, she looked great. Cheeks, rosy from the wind, had a nice healthy glow, complimenting her mesmerizing blue eyes even though apprehension was clouding their brilliance. He straightened and nodded as she approached. “You look great. I take it you’re feeling better?”

  “Yes. Thanks,” she replied, ponytail swaying in the wind. “Sorry if I’m late. I dropped Amelia off at Brandi’s.”

  “You’re not late,” he assured, turning slightly to walk with her toward the porch. Kade had mentioned something to him about watching Amelia and Cody that night with his fiancée.

  A brilliant smile lit her pretty features and momentarily robbed him of speech.

  “You should’ve seen her face light up when she saw your nephew.”

  He got the impression he was seeing the grown-up version that very moment. And it was breathtaking.

  “There you are, Kevin.” His former teacher stood in the doorway dressed in a long black skirt, blinding white running shoes and a turtleneck that matched the blue/gray tint of her hair. She opened the screen door, and her brow rose in a sarcastic arch. “Well? Are you going to jaw on the porch all night, or are you going to come in and introduce me to your pretty girlfriend?”

  Ah, hell…

  The urge to step back as a precautionary measure to the fellas was strong, but a quick glance at his girlfriend’s parted lips and wide
-eyed stare had him laughing instead. “Now, Mrs. Avery, you know I told you Shayla and I are just friends.”

  “So?” The older woman shrugged. “She’s a girl and your friend, therefore she’s your girlfriend.”

  Guess there was no fighting that logic. He didn’t even try, just nodded and waited for redheaded fallout.

  To his surprise, Shayla chuckled and extended her hand to his teacher. “Well, when you put it like that, you’re right. Hello, Mrs. Avery, I’m Shayla Ryan. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Hello, dear,” his teacher replied, shaking Shayla’s hand as she drew his girlfriend into her home. “Please, call me Betty.”

  Betty?

  Really? He’d known the woman practically his whole damn life, took out her garbage, mowed her lawn, shoveled her driveway and sidewalks, tilled her garden, even fixed her damn toilet once, and she never invited him to call her Betty.

  “You know, dear, you look very familiar. Have we met?” Mrs. Avery asked, gaze narrowed as she stared at his girlfriend.

  Chapter Seven

  “N-no. I don’t think so,” Shayla stammered, pulling her hand free, suddenly a little pale and a lot nervous. “I’m from north Texas. I only just moved down here a few months ago.”

  “Maybe you saw her at The Creamery. She goes there with Brandi once in awhile,” he suggested.

  For some unexplainable reason, Kevin felt the need to jump in and help, and was glad when she turned to him and smiled bright. His gut took an invisible blow and his chest felt funny.

  Yeah, he was definitely coming down with something.

  “That’s probably it.”

  Even Mrs. Avery nodded. “Could be. I go there to pick up cream for my babies.” She motioned to the two big babies staring at them from across the room.

  “Oh, what beautiful cats,” Mrs. Avery’s new best friend exclaimed, walking toward the kings sitting on their thrones in what he liked to call submarine mode, with their front paws curled under their chests.

  “The one on the left is Davy and the other is Crockett.” His former teacher beamed. “I rescued them six years ago. They’re good boys.”

  Yeah, good boys who could eat more than him at one sitting. They weren’t fat, just big cats.

  “Watch out. Here come the new additions. Daniel and Boone,” Mrs. Avery warned a little late.

  The two rambunctious kittens were already climbing up Shayla’s navy wool coat as she knelt between the thrones.

  “What darlings.” She chuckled, glancing up at him while hugging the terrors close.

  Kevin’s heart stopped for the briefest of moments, then rocked hard in his chest. With her hair pulled back and no makeup on, the woman was so damn beautiful she stole his breath and annihilated half his brain cells. And he had many. Or, at least, he used to, until she came to town.

  Clearing his throat, he attempted to ease the lump that had mysteriously formed. These dance practices were going to be pure hell. He was going to need a required daily reminder. No messing with the single mother, or remembering her sweet taste.

  Memories rushed to the surface and interfered with his pulse. She had tasted sweet with a whole helping of hot. He stiffened. Ah, hell.

  Twice a day. Make that a twice daily reminder.

  “Well, what do you say we go out to the studio in the garage and get started?” their instructor suggested before turning around and heading for the back door.

  Let the torture begin.

  As Kevin followed the two women through the house, across the well-manicured yard he maintained, and into the garage, he contemplated just what the hell was wrong with him. After all the years, and women who tried to coax more than a night of sex from him, he’d actually felt a tremor in the force.

  Why? What was so special about Shayla?

  They hadn’t even had sex. Only shared two kisses. Okay, two incredible kisses, but still, a kiss couldn’t be that life-altering, no matter what his buddies claimed. Sure, he’d sensed the single mother was different, and dangerous to his peace of mind, but life altering?

  Nah. Hogwash, as Mrs. Avery would say.

  Of course, sleeping with the tempting redhead had been a dumb move. Even though it was all slumber and no sex, it was still stupid. He shouldn’t have been in that bed. Hell no. He should’ve tucked the sick woman in, set her sleeping daughter in the mermaid decorated crib, and ran back to the damn couch. But no. Weakness had prevailed, and for the first time in over a decade, he’d felt and given into a long buried emotion.

  Need.

  Heaven help him, it hadn’t solely been his weakness for soft and supple Shayla, melting into him with sighs rippling over his damn flesh in a light caress. He was in trouble. Big trouble.

  But she wasn’t his only problem.

  Somehow, her cute little baby girl managed to reach deep inside and curl her tiny fingers around his heart. How? When? He had no idea, but at the time, he couldn’t bear to release the sleeping angel. Amelia had been so sweet and tiny in his arms. So innocent. Buried paternal needs and if onlys had surfaced. He couldn’t do it. Hadn’t been able to let her go. So he’d held on to the sweet little pumpkin a little longer.

  His actions were forcing him to take a good, hard look at his life.

  Over the past ten years, he’d been with a handful of women…or two, even slept next to a few the whole night, but that hadn’t prepared him for the likes of Shayla and Amelia Ryan. Now, his brain was scrambling through his mind-palace to see if there was a way to backtrack, to reverse the affect the single mom and her baby girl seemed to have on him. He wasn’t what they needed or deserved.

  He wasn’t a permanent guy.

  Or a responsible guy.

  Hell, he was nothing but a Good Time Charlie and they were a pretty package of white picket fence.

  Didn’t mean he didn’t want them, or want to be around them. Get to know them better. Because he did. And that scared the shit out of him. If it weren’t for his admiration and devotion to his former teacher—the woman who had been there for him when his father had died, and again when his mother had passed—Kevin would not be about to voluntarily endure hell for the next two months.

  Practicing twice a week, holding the sexy redhead in his arms twice a week while they danced whatever the hell kind of dances Mrs. Avery was going to put them through, was not going to help his plight. Hell no. Brushing against her soft curves was going to drive him insane.

  Just watching the sashay of Shayla’s sweet denim-covered ass while she walked in front of him into the studio heated his blood to unreasonable levels.

  Yeah, he was a dead man walking. Or stumbling. His jeans had suddenly tightened. They already admitted they were combustible, and all his musings and thought processes boiled down to one honest fact.

  Before the two months of practices were up, they were going to end up in bed.

  “Well now, why don’t you two hang up your coats while I pick out a few songs,” Mrs. Avery said as she turned on the lights.

  “Oh, wow,” Shayla exclaimed, placing her coat on a metal hook by the door, excitement shining in her eyes, replacing her earlier apprehension. “This is great.”

  “Thank you, Shayla,” their instructor replied.

  Kevin hung up his coat and glanced around the familiar studio-converted garage. Stepping through the door had been like stepping back to his youth. The place hadn’t changed much. Wide open with florescent lighting, the space had white, commercial tiling, a heating/cooling unit in the corner, a bathroom/changing room in the back and a seating area in the front for small recitals. Red checkered curtains covered a side window and window in the door, and mirrored walls paralleled one another with a hand rail along one side for ballet students.

  A small smile tugged his lips. When he had been ten, after only a few months of lessons, his mom and Mrs. Avery tried to talk him into learning ballet.

  The redhead walked to the closest mirrored wall and lightly caressed the rail. “You teach ballet?”

  H
er strokes mesmerized and his mind-palace immediately shut down. Except for the basement. Now his mind was full of images of the woman fondling an entirely different type of wood.

  “Yes,” their instructor was saying, nodding in his direction. “Tried my darndest to get him to give it a whirl. The boy was a natural, I tell ya. Fluid, strong, perfect for partnering a ballerina.”

  “Really?” The beauty released the rail, and his palace reopened.

  With his mind no longer stuck in the basement, he remembered a time when his mom had even tried the ‘it’s a good way to meet girls’ card to get him to practice ballet, but it hadn’t worked.

  No way in hell were they going to get him to wear tights.

  “Wasn’t happening. Not to this cowboy.” He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. “Ballet was not part of the deal with my mother.”

  Line dancing and ballroom dancing, sure, but nothing else. Thank God the women never forced the issue, because truth was, he would’ve done whatever his mother had wanted. She had been through so much. He just wanted her to be happy.

  Shayla chuckled. “Let me guess, severe allergy to tights?”

  “You got it, darlin’,” he said with a smile.

  The guys would’ve had a field day at his expense. Especially, Connor. Yeah, good ‘ole McJollyRancher would’ve busted a gut at the sight of Kevin in tights. And he wouldn’t have blamed the cowboy one damn bit.

  “All right. Let’s get down to it, shall we?” Mrs. Avery commanded without looking at them as she fiddled with the music system. “I’m going to play a group of songs of mixed genre, and watch the two of you dance. It’ll give me an idea of what to work on, if you two even need work.” She glanced up at them and smiled.

  Why was the woman smiling? Maybe old age was actually catching up to his teacher.

  “Bring it.” He nodded, and returned the smile, even though he knew dancing with Shayla was a bad idea.

  “You got it,” Mrs. Avery said. “How about we start out with a little of Maroon Five?”

  Shayla’s eyes widened. Holding back a grin, he’d wager she thought pop, rock and hip-hop were out of Mrs. Avery’s reach. Wrong. He knew first hand his teacher was well versed in all music genres and dance styles. And if he wasn’t worried she’d break a hip, he’d coax the older woman onto the floor for a demonstration.