Keeping Kayla: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 4)

by Lacy Williams

  The Chihuahua shifted in her basket, putting her chin on the edge. Her eyes were open, watchful.

  Kayla looked down on the dog at her side. Her fingers brushed over the dog's ear, a gentle touch. "He's sleeping. Sarah seemed confident that he'd be okay."

  Emotion filled her voice, and he knew she must be exhausted, because she usually didn't like him to see how affected she was.

  "Why don't you let me take a shift? Get a couple of hours sleep."

  She leaned her head back against the cabinets. He could see the silhouette of her slender throat and the line of her jaw. "Maybe in a minute."

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she would ever forgive him for letting her go ten years ago.

  He'd fallen hard for her. He could even pinpoint the exact moment. Maybe it was when she'd ordered a chocolate shake with an extra scoop of chocolate ice cream. He’d never forget that adorable hint of a smile. He'd been a goner.

  His feelings hadn't changed in all this time.

  He didn't know if he could win over Kayla tonight, but he'd packed a secret weapon to try to win the Chihuahua. He’d kept a piece of bacon from the burger he and Miles had grabbed in town earlier, and it was now crumbled in his pocket. He placed a tiny piece on the floor, halfway between himself and the dog's basket.

  "She's not going to come to you," Kayla said.

  "Maybe not." But he wasn't the kind of man to give up. And that thought crystallized in his skull.

  He couldn't give up on the dog. And he wouldn't give up on Kayla.

  And as long as she’d give him a chance, let him stay close, he wouldn't give up.

  He left the bacon on the floor and rested his hand on the floor next to his thigh.

  "I've been wanting to ask you something." He felt her tense beside him at his words. "It's nothing horrible."

  "What?"

  "What's behind your passion for the dogs? You’re like a magnet for injured and abandoned ones…"

  He heard her quiet breaths and wondered if she would answer.

  "Growing up, I always wanted a pet. Did you have one?"

  He smiled in the dark. "A German Shepherd. She would wait for me to get off the bus. Every day, even when it was freezing cold, even when it was snowing. She died my senior year of high school."

  "I'm sorry." She was silent for a moment too long. "Sarah and I were bounced from foster home to foster home and then to the group home when I was eight. I would've given anything to have a dog to come home to."

  It was the second time she'd spoken of her early years, and the difference between her childhood and his was stark. He'd taken for granted the stability, the simple things that she'd never had.

  He settled his hand over hers. She startled but tried to cover it. She allowed his touch for only a moment before she gently disengaged their hands.

  "When I was ten, I snuck every stray I could find into the group home. Sarah helped cover for me, but I took care of them. I always got found out. But it never stopped me from trying again."

  He chuckled. "I can see that."

  "When I was thirteen, I was walking home from school and found a cat that someone had starved and then dumped. It was so weak."

  He was suddenly unsure whether he wanted to hear this story.

  "I didn't sneak around this time. I took her straight to the Home Mom and begged her to let me help the cat. Just for a few days, and then I'd find it a new home. I just wanted her to live."

  Kayla's voice trailed off. He wanted to touch her again, wanted to offer comfort, but she'd already moved away from him, and he was afraid to reach for her again. Afraid his touch would silence her story.

  "She refused. She made me put the cat outdoors and wouldn't let me feed it or give it any water. The next morning, it was dead. I could've saved it, if I'd been allowed."

  She didn't sniffle. Her voice was matter-of-fact as she recited the facts of her story. But obviously, it had made a huge impact on her.

  He didn't know what to say, how to offer her comfort. Silence stretched.

  He’d been teasing when he’d said the words. You’re like a magnet for injured and abandoned ones… How many others had driven past the dog on the highway without stopping?

  Kayla saw the needy animals. And she did something about it.

  Back then, Kayla had longed to save her kitten, when it was she who’d needed rescuing herself. He’d had a chance to play the knight, to fight for her, that night in Vegas. And what had he done? Left her out in the cold.

  At least she’d tried with her kitten. He’d done nothing.

  Was it really any wonder she didn’t want to believe his good intentions now?

  When the silence was broken, it came from an unexpected direction. Soft clicks from tiny nails as the Chihuahua climbed out of her basket and crossed the floor, ever so slowly, toward that piece of bacon.

  Kayla stilled beside him.

  The Chihuahua licked the bacon off the floor and daintily chewed it up.

  He moved slowly as he reached into his pocket and brought out more of the bacon crumbs.

  The dog eyed him.

  Nate laid out three more pieces, and the Chihuahua grabbed them up with increasing abandon.

  He kept the remaining pieces on his palm, open and flat on the floor.

  The Chihuahua sat back on her haunches, looking at him expectantly.

  "C'mon, girl." He whispered the words as an encouragement, not to rush her. And he waited her out.

  Seconds passed before the dog moved hesitantly forward. Nate didn't move an eyelash. The dog ate from his hand, its tongue tickling as it lapped up the bacon pieces. It even touched his palm with one tiny paw.

  "Good girl," he breathed.

  And then, to his surprise, the Chihuahua leaned against his thigh. He risked reaching out, and it allowed him to run one finger over its head in a caress.

  "I can't believe she's letting you pet her," Kayla whispered, though she too was perfectly still.

  "What can I say? I'm a trustworthy guy."

  Kayla snorted softly. He didn't look, but he had the sense that she was smiling.

  The dog returned to her basket and curled among the sleeping pups.

  Kayla sighed softly. He could only hope she was softening toward him as well.

  She yawned so big, her jaw cracked.

  "Why don't you let me take a shift?" he asked for the second time. "Catch a few hours of sleep."

  "I will in a minute." But this time her voice was sleepy and slow.

  And then her head drooped. Slowly, it lowered until it rested on his shoulder.

  He barely breathed, not wanting to wreck the moment. He could feel each of her breaths soft against the skin at his neck.

  He slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Both dogs slept on. And Kayla relaxed against him, falling into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 7

  The injured dog was much improved the next morning, so much so that Kayla decided to crate it to keep it from bounding all around the house on three legs. She had a medium-sized metal crate, which she set up in the kitchen so the dog wouldn't feel lonely as it recovered.

  Midmorning, she looked up from a pile of grant paperwork and realized it was entirely too quiet in the house. Where had Miles and Nate gone off to? A moment later, she realized the pounding she heard wasn't the headache she'd thought it was.

  It was coming from outside.

  A step onto the back porch oriented her. The sounds were coming from the direction of the barn, so she headed that way.

  She wasn't sure she was ready to see Nate. Her feelings for him were a confusing mix of attraction, trust, and fear, fear that eventually, he'd figure out she wasn't worth the trouble and disappear from her life all over again.

  She'd fallen asleep on him last night, snuggled into his shoulder. It hadn't lasted long—he'd woken her and sent her to bed, promising to stay awake with the injured animal through the night.

  She'd managed to sleep in her own bed until the ea
rly hours, when she'd relieved him to watch over the dog again.

  He'd said he was trustworthy. It had been in response to the little Chihuahua, but the simple statement had resonated with Kayla, touching something deep inside her. She'd slept peacefully, trusting him to take care of the dog.

  Trusting him. It had seemed wise in the dead of night when her bed had beckoned her, but now, she wasn’t sure what to think. Could Nate be trusted? Could anybody?

  She followed the pounding to the barn, where the sounds of hammering were accompanied by wood splintering, boyish shouts, and dog barks. Was something wrong? She sped up, almost running by the time she hit the open door.

  Inside, things were chaos.

  The dogs were frolicking in the back, barking and play wrestling with each other. Nate watched Miles swing a small mallet at the outside barn wall. There was already a gaping hole there, jagged edges silhouetted against the bright outdoors. Splinters and wood chunks and sawdust covered the floor and ground outside, while dust and dirt hovered in a cloud.

  She propped her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?"

  Miles and Nate turned toward her, both wearing matching infectious grins.

  "We're demo-ing!" Miles crowed, holding the hammer above his head.

  Nate was close enough to gently guide the boy's hand and the tool back down to a safe level at his side.

  She leveled a look on Nate. "I don't remember agreeing to let you demolish my barn."

  He winked at her. "I knew you wouldn't complain about free labor. I did a little more looking, identified the major problem areas. I think if you replace this one beam here"—he patted a huge wooden beam that extended to the ceiling—"you'll be golden. The termite damage isn't as extensive as we thought."

  We, huh? As if he had a say in what happened in her barn. As if he’d been around, been involved. As if he’d cared a whit about her until four days ago. And anyway, what did he know? "Are you an exterminator, now?"

  "No, but the barn at the Triple H had the same issues. We had ourselves a nice construction project last year."

  He seemed proud of the fact that he'd knocked down her barn wall, at ease with the destruction that surrounded him like a war zone.

  "This isn't the Triple H. This is my property. And now, I've got to pay to replace that wall."

  Nate shrugged casually. "I have some money saved up."

  And that sent her temper into a tailspin. "I don't want your daddy's money, and I don't want you wrecking my life! I didn't even want you here in the first place!"

  Miles stared, wide-eyed, as her temper spent itself.

  She was left breathing hard, as if she'd run a sprint. Her heart was pounding, and the raw hurt on Nate's face made her want to call the words back. But she didn't. She turned and left the barn.

  Nate felt numb all over.

  The kid was still standing there, watching him. He tried to find some kind of balance in the maelstrom that was his emotion, tried to dredge up some kind of smile.

  "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said.

  Miles was quiet and pale, a contrast to the kid who'd been whooping and slamming that hammer into the wall a moment ago.

  "It's—" he started, but Miles shook his head.

  "Complicated, right? That's what Kayla said the other night."

  The border collie scrambled close, and Nate did a quick visual check to ensure there were no rusty nails in the area before he bent to pet the dog. Miles followed suit and was soon knocked to his butt from the collie's mad scramble for affection.

  The boy laughed, but it was short-lived as he looked up at Nate with shadowed eyes.

  "Complicated is right," Nate agreed. "I've been in love with Kayla since I was twenty. I knew her from high school, but I was almost a college sophomore before she swept me off my feet."

  Miles wrinkled his nose. Maybe that was too much information for the boy.

  "I messed up back then—pushed her too fast, and she got scared. I'm trying not to do the same thing now."

  Though obviously, his words, his attempts to help, had scared her again. How could he make her understand how invested he was in their relationship? He'd thought she would get it if he bought into the dog rescue, but he'd obviously misjudged.

  "So...you're not giving up?" Miles asked tentatively.

  "Not by a long shot, kid."

  Because behind Kayla's parting shot, he'd seen her vulnerability.

  Kayla avoided Nate while she and Miles spent a couple of hours watching over the injured dog and talking pets together. He was quiet, hesitant, but finally started to open up.

  Sarah came out for a while to check on the dog, and then asked Kayla to follow her out to her truck.

  "Everything's fine," Kayla said as Sarah tucked her black bag into the cab.

  Sarah just raised her eyebrows.

  Kayla prayed her sister wouldn’t notice her bloodshot eyes. She wished she'd thought to put on some dark sunglasses before coming outside. After she'd yelled at Nate in the barn earlier, she'd retreated to her bedroom and cried her eyes out.

  "It's just a lot," she told her sister when Sarah's pointed silence continued. "Miles's arrival, the injured dog, and Nate in the middle of it all."

  Sarah touched Kayla's elbow. "Are you thinking maybe this could be something real? Something more than just a mistake you made one weekend ten years ago?”

  Kayla shook her head tightly. "It's too late for us."

  Sarah smiled wryly. "I wasn't expecting Chase when my life imploded, but he was just what I needed."

  "This isn't like that." Her sister deserved love. The jerk she'd been engaged to hadn't appreciated Sarah or her heart for livestock, and the former Triple H hand that had won her heart was one of the rare good catches.

  Sarah squeezed her arm. "We both have a hard time trusting," she said. "Comes with our awful childhoods. But every once in a while, when it's the right person...maybe it's okay to let someone in."

  Kayla offered a tight smile because that seemed like what her sister expected. Sarah got in her truck and drove off, leaving Kayla standing alone in the drive.

  Sarah didn't understand Kayla's history with Nate. He’d let her walk away once. Wouldn’t he just do the same if things got difficult now?

  That thought put a bitter, hot lump in her throat.

  The house wasn't silent when she re-entered it. Voices echoed from the kitchen. Nate and Miles.

  Afraid they were disturbing the dog, she strode down the hall to interrupt them. But the golden dog was lying quietly on its bed, watching.

  Nate and Miles stood shoulder to shoulder at the counter, both their sleeves rolled to their elbows. It was impossible not to notice Nate's tanned, muscled forearms and Miles's skinny wrists.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  The both startled and whirled toward her, Miles with a slightly-guilty look and Nate with an implacable smile.

  Nate raised a zucchini to salute her. "Making supper."

  "You don't have to do that."

  Nate and Miles exchanged a loaded look.

  "What?" she demanded.

  Nate whispered something to Miles, who shook his head, eyes wide. "No way."

  Nate turned to her and waved the zucchini. "We want to treat you tonight."

  "It's really—"

  "Really," he interrupted. "We can't take another night of burned grilled cheese."

  She tensed as his words registered.

  He grinned. "Don't get all up in arms. We appreciate your effort. Right, kid?"

  She slid her attention to Miles. "Do you feel the same way?"

  He averted his eyes and bit his lip. That was as obvious as if he'd said yes.

  "Fine." She threw up her hands. "If you want to cook your own supper, you go ahead."

  If they burned it, it was on them.

  "Nuh-uh, don't leave," Nate said. "We've got a job for you."

  She hesitated in the doorway. Nate abandoned his vegetable and cornered her. "S
pend time with us," he said quietly. His arm snaked around her, his hand settled at her waist.

  The contact sent a shockwave through her, but somehow her feet had become cemented to the floor.

  He brushed a kiss at her temple. "Give me a chance," he breathed against her skin.

  She danced away from him. "What's my job?"

  He grinned again and pointed to a cutting board on the counter. "You're on chopping duty."

  He blew kisses to the Chihuahua, and she gave an enthusiastic tail wag as he crossed back to the counter.

  "What're you making?" she asked as she stood beside him and picked up the chopping knife.

  "Ratatouille."

  She wrinkled her nose, slanting a glance at his broad-shouldered frame. "Rat-a-what? Is that as bad as it sounds?"

  His grin didn't fade as he shook his head. "I saw it on a kid's movie with Scarlett Hale once. I make it every once in a while, when it's my turn to cook for the cowhands."

  "You have to cook for them?"

  His attention was focused at the parchment paper he was spreading across the counter, but his words were just a hint too casual. "I earn my keep. I have since my twentieth birthday."

  She sliced into the onion, the immediate pungent scent making her eyes smart and nose water. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  He nodded to Miles, who stood at his other elbow. "Maybe we can postpone this conversation until later."

  "If you two are cooking I'll just..." Miles jerked his thumb toward the hallway.

  "No way," Nate said. "I need you in here, man, to help counter..." He nodded his head toward Kayla.

  "Hey!"

  But Miles grinned.

  "I'm a little surprised you don't think cooking is a girl thing," Kayla said.

  Nate winked. "Nothing girly about it. Lots of the best chefs are men. Plus, it's a great way to impress ladies. How're we doing with that?" This time, he tipped his head toward her, letting the too-long hair fall forward into his eyes. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  Kayla couldn't help a giggle.

  Behind Nate, Miles was still smiling.

  "You're doing fine," she whispered.

  And he was. More than fine.

  Miles and the dogs all abed, Kayla wandered out to the barn. After their dinner—which hadn’t been half-bad—Nate had done the dishes and then disappeared out the back door. Had he come out here? Why?