Cowboy Casanova (Wild At Heart Cowboys Book 3)

by Charlene Bright

  The man gave her a crooked smile, and his eyes danced. Was he flirting with her? “It’s actually nice that you’re early. Come on, I’ll show you the room you can settle in and the bathroom that’s all yours. And while you do your thing, I’ll heat up the leftovers from dinner for you. I bet you could go for some good home cooking right now.”

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of real food, not just road snacks. “I appreciate that. Thank you.” She followed him to a bedroom around the corner, liking the mute colors of the décor. He set her bags by the door and motioned toward two other doors.

  “That’s a closet,” he told her, pointing to the door on the left closest to her. Then, he gestured at the other one. “That’s the bathroom.” He walked across the room and opened the door, flipping on the light.

  Tara nearly gaped at the contemporary, high-end look of the room. The fixtures were hammered copper, the counters a brilliant white marble, and the shower had a new shower head that looked like it had multiple massage settings. There was also a separate claw-footed tub, and the idea of a relaxing bubble bath with some of her aromatherapy candles nearly coaxed her in. But her stomach reminded her of her need for sustenance, and she smiled at her apparent host. “Thank you again. I’ll be right out.”

  3

  Dylan was honestly relieved that the nurse wanted a few minutes alone. He needed to check on Bill, and he had to get his addled brain back on track. He’d been working on autopilot for the last few minutes.

  Ever since he’d opened the door and found Tara Shores standing there.

  He’d expected a sixty-something plump woman with a helmet of gray and white curls, maybe some pudgy wrinkles around her eyes and a stern look on her face. Tara was none of those things, and he’d frozen solid in shock. He’d counted on instinct to get him through, but now, he had to fire on all pistons.

  He found Bill still in the other bathroom, leaning against the porcelain toilet bowl, looking exhausted. “I think I overdid it with the roast,” Bill croaked as Dylan handed him a cool, wet rag to wipe his face. “Who was at the door?”

  Dylan clenched his teeth against the images of Tara that came to mind, the way her simple t-shirt and cropped pants showed off her curves and narrow waist, and how a few tendrils of her chestnut hair with cherry highlights fell from her ponytail to frame her face. Even her tired eyes shone with what he had to assume was enthusiasm for her job, or maybe life itself.

  Clearing his throat and shifting as his body tried to react, he told Bill, “Your new nurse arrived early. She’s in the spare room, washing up. I told her I’d heat up the leftovers for her. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  Bill looked green again. “I’d stop eating altogether if I thought it would help.” He grinned ruefully, trying to joke past the pain. “So, is she Nurse Ratchet?”

  Dylan snorted. “Definitely not.” He reached down to get Bill up off the floor. “Come on, why don’t you come with me and see for yourself what sort of trouble you’ve rustled up in here?” He drew one of Bill’s arms around his shoulders and halfway carried the man into the living room.

  He started to leave Bill in the big armchair, but Bill clung to him. “No, take me to the kitchen. Let me sit up at the table like a human being to meet the woman. I don’t want her to run screaming because I’m too much trouble.”

  Dylan did what he asked but gave him a look that told him exactly how ridiculous that sounded. “She’s a nurse. I’m sure she’s seen it all.” Although, she looked so much younger than Dylan had expected, he wondered just how much the woman could have seen. “Tea, water, juice? You need to stay hydrated.”

  Bill made a face. “I don’t care. It all tastes the same anymore.” Dylan knew that wasn’t true, but he continued about his business. There were times when the old man lost his positive attitude and groused about things that weren’t so bad, just because he was frustrated.

  Dylan set a glass of orange juice in front of him and put the plate of leftovers in the microwave. “I have the feeling your mood will change and everything will taste like sunshine and roses soon enough.” Goodness knew Dylan was either going to become the Disney version of himself, grinning no matter what, or the Wes Craven version, ready to take an axe to anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

  He didn’t have time to say anything else. The door to the spare bedroom—the room a very beautiful woman was going to inhabit now—opened, and Tara Shores stepped out, coming into the kitchen with a hesitant expression. She still wore the cropped jeans but had changed out the t-shirt for a Henley, and her face looked freshly scrubbed. She’d let her hair down and brushed it so it glistened in the can lights overhead, and she was barefoot now, showing off cute little feet with perfectly manicured toes.

  He managed to tear his eyes away long enough to see what Bill’s reaction was, and he nearly lost his cool and cackled at how big the old man’s eyes were. But Dylan wasn’t prepared for anger. “Now, listen here, Dylan. I know we’re old friends, and I know you want to cheer me up. But I’m not in a mood for some stripper to pull off some sort of nurse performance.” Bill looked at Tara. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I apologize that my friend had you drive all the way out here.”

  Dylan was shocked and thoroughly embarrassed. Tara, on the other hand, simply left the room. He turned to give Bill a piece of his mind, but she came back instantly, wearing a smile and carrying something in her hand. She put it on the table in front of Bill and said, “I hope there hasn’t been some sort of mix-up. I’m Tara Shores, registered nurse and home care facilitator with Home Hospice and Healthcare.”

  As Bill scowled at the ID card, Dylan watched over his shoulder with a stomach full of concrete. Of all the ways to make a first impression, Bill had to choose something that was absolutely mortifying. Closing his eyes and drawing up his patience, he took a deep breath and met Tara’s eyes. “Let me apologize for my friend. I think all the chemo drugs have addled his brain. Of course, Bill never had any couth to start with, but that’s no excuse for his behavior.”

  The fact that she giggled and covered her hand with her mouth caught Dylan off guard. She shook her head and cleared her throat, blushing prettily and ducking her head. “I should actually be flattered, Mr. McDaniel. Being referred to as a stripper means that I’m at least attractive enough to fit the role.”

  Dylan had half a mind to tell her she was hotter than any stripper he’d ever encountered, but he felt that might actually upset her. She was taking this so well he didn’t want to do anything else that might truly offend her. Thankfully, Bill didn’t clam up and actually said the first worthy words to come out of his mouth all evening. “Well, I’ll be damned. I guess I was just suspicious. You’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve seen around these parts in years, and I didn’t figure I was lucky enough to get a good look at you every day. I thought it had to be some crazy trick Dylan was playing on me.”

  Her eyes darted back and forth between the two men, and Dylan could barely keep from drooling as she held his eyes captive for a lingering moment. “Well, Mr. Campbell, as long as we’re clear that those are the types of services I don’t provide, then I think we’ll all be just fine.”

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t press the issue,” Dylan promised, giving Bill a warning look when it looked like he might protest. He forced himself to step away so he could get her food and pass it to her.

  She gave him a grateful look and took a seat, digging in. “Oh, my god, this is amazing. Did you make this?”

  Dylan snorted. “I wish! I can cook all right, but Bill’s picky, and I’m tired of spaghetti and tacos. This is from the Five Forks Diner on Main Street.”

  “I see.” She didn’t say anything else, too busy eating and gulping at the glass of sweet tea. Dylan tried not to watch her like he was analyzing her every move, but he couldn’t really help himself. Tara fascinated him, practically swallowing the dinner whole out of hunger while still feeding herself gingerly with small b
ites and not getting a crumb on her face or clothes. When she finally slowed, she met his eyes, and he looked away, finding Bill staring with rapt attention.

  She drew his attention back with a deep breath and a big sigh as she leaned back in the chair and stretched her arms over her head. The way her breasts pressed against her t-shirt, showing the beautiful round shape and a hint of perky nipples, made him clench his jaw. She didn’t seem to notice the effect she had on him—or on Bill, for that matter—and just smiled. “Well, whoever made it, this was delicious. I cook, too, and do minimal cleaning. It all comes with the job. I’m a nurse, but as an in-home care professional, that means doing all I can to keep you be as healthy as possible, Mr. Campbell. That includes making sure you eat healthy and live in a clean environment.”

  “I’ve done what I could to take care of those things up to this point,” Dylan told her, feeling suddenly inadequate. He didn’t like it and he couldn’t understand the strong reaction. He never felt so useless or unworthy, and he certainly didn’t like the idea of this woman making him feel that way. He tried to shake it off, but somehow, he felt like he just didn’t make the grade, and he didn’t want her to be disappointed in him.

  She gave him a bright, unexpected smile. “Mr. McDaniel, you seem to have done a fabulous job, especially considering that, as far as I’ve been told, you’ve been operating your own ranch, taking care of Mr. Campbell, and working on his ranch. I don’t pretend to know a lot about ranching, but I know my business, and obviously, since my job is just to take care of one man, that alone is a full-time job. I can’t imagine doing that and what probably amounts to two more full-time jobs on top of it. Tell me, when do you find time to sleep?”

  Now, under her praise, Dylan felt a flush creep into his throat. What the hell was wrong with him? “It’s been rough. I can say that. And it’s still going to be a challenge to be in and out of here and still handle both our properties.”

  Bill chuckled, entering the conversation for the first time since his apology. “Dylan’s a true cowboy. He can sleep anywhere, for a minute or two if necessary, and with his eyes open. It’s creepy, I’ll tell you, but I can’t complain since I’m the one who taught him everything he knows.”

  Tara laughed with him, and Dylan gave Bill a chagrined look. “That’s a damn lie. You taught me half what I know, that’s all. Give my daddy a little credit. And give me some credit for learning something on my own.” Bill rolled his eyes and shook his head. Dylan turned to Tara. “Now, I need to make sure Miss Shores knows where your meds are and what to take when and all that good stuff. So, sit there and finish your tea. I’ll be on my way in a half hour or so.” Then again, he might just sleep on the couch so he could catch one last glimpse of the beautiful woman before he had to bury himself in work again.

  4

  By the time Tara literally fell into the bed, she was thoroughly exhausted. Part of it was all the driving, and another part was the extremely late hour. Bill, as she’d been told to call her new charge, had another bout of vomiting, followed by severe shivers. He’d then argued about the baby monitor she’d insisted on putting in his room so she would know if he needed her in the middle of the night. Now, it was nearly two in the morning, and she was going to have to be up early.

  But the main reason she was drained of all of her energy was Dylan McDaniel.

  He’d taken his time showing her the ropes—all the meds Bill took and how they were organized for times of day, where the food was stashed and the list of menu items Bill could actually stomach, cleaning supplies and disinfectants for when Bill had stomach trouble and other issues, and the general tour so she felt at home. But Tara had worked herself into a tense place, trying to make sure she made a good impression on him. She didn’t know why it mattered so much, since she was going to work for Bill, but she couldn’t stand the idea that Dylan might not like her.

  She glanced now toward the bedroom door she’d closed behind her. There was a lot of evidence that he’d been staying in this room himself for quite some time, even though he had his own house several miles away. Now, though, Tara thought with a bit of anxiety that Dylan was sleeping on the couch, a few feet beyond that door. She wondered what he was wearing—or not wearing. She doubted he would sleep in the buff tonight. After all, what if the newest tenant in the house liked to get up for a midnight snack? In this case, it would be more like a 3 a.m. snack, but still …

  This was definitely going to be a very long night, despite the short hours, and she worked herself into a quiet state of mind that allowed her to finally get some rest. Luckily, Bill didn’t wake up during the night, and when the alarm went off, her eyes popped open. She hadn’t gotten as much rest as she would have liked, but it was a good, solid sleep. She’d be fine until she could get a full night.

  She showered and dressed, donning her lavender scrubs with daisies, and clipped her wet hair up on her head so she could get busy while it dried. She quietly stepped out of her room, not wanting to wake Dylan, but the couch was empty with the blankets already folded. She didn’t see any sign of him and was disappointed. He must’ve snuck out to work already.

  Sighing, she turned the corner toward the kitchen. Tara was good with memory tricks, and she could visualize where everything was. She closed her eyes and stepped forward.

  And smacked into something solid.

  She opened her eyes with a slight squeal and found herself face to face with a broad chest, clad in a traditional green-and-black-checkered flannel cowboy shirt. She tilted her head back to find Dylan’s face, a black cowboy hat on his head making him look like a young, sexy, modern version of the Marlboro Man, and she gulped as those hypnotizing green eyes of his caught hers, showing the same surprise she felt. At least, she told herself it was surprise as her heart thudded its way into her chest and her stomach twisted and turned. It couldn’t be that animal attraction she felt toward him that was heating her from head to toe as she stood this close to him.

  “You all right?” Dylan asked, touching her arm as if to make sure he didn’t knock her down.

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. She was usually so level-headed, she barely recognized herself right now. “I thought you’d already left.”

  He took a step back and leaned against the wall, jerking his thumb over his shoulder and looking devastatingly handsome in such a casual pose. “I thought I’d make some eggs and bacon before I left. I’m hungry, and Bill wakes up starving.”

  Tara frowned. “I could have done it. I know you have things to do.”

  He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I’m used to it. It might be a little difficult to adjust.” He gave her a sheepish grin that melted her heart. “I also forgot to tell you the bacon has to be cooked in the oven. Too much grease is a problem. You should have seen what happened last night after dinner.” He grimaced.

  Quirking a brow at him, she said, “And I’m guessing Bill talks you into feeding him whatever he wants, despite what the doctors say is okay.” He nodded his confirmation. “So, we’ll just have to find alternate ways to satisfy his craving. We’ll have to get vegetable oil instead of grease, and we’ll have to bake burgers and chicken and bacon and sausage and all the greasy things. I actually have a George Foreman grill, and it might be good for Bill to invest in one. It keeps the flavor and lets the nasty, stomach-churning stuff drain off.”

  He looked amused, and she wasn’t sure what she’d said that had him smirking. “I guess we can do that.”

  She winced internally, realizing her mistake in referring to the situation as if she expected him to help her. “I didn’t mean …,” she trailed off, blushing profusely and not knowing what to say.

  He laughed softly, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. “It’s fine. I don’t know how often you’ll be able to get to town, and I’m back and forth so much I can make supply runs. It’s not an inconvenience.”

  Tara knew better. It was very
much an inconvenience, considering all the other obligations he must have. She didn’t know what sort of ranch either he or Bill had, and she didn’t know what sort of tasks had to be performed on a daily basis to run a ranch. But she had a feeling it wasn’t easy to care for two of them, especially when they weren’t next to each other, and she knew that every moment spent on something else was burning money for a rancher.

  She could understand if Dylan was concerned about an old friend, but the reason for hiring a nurse was so that he didn’t feel obligated to take on the healthcare aspect of things anymore and get something off his plate. Why was he still trying to take on more work than necessary? Did he have trust issues, or was there something else going on? “Mr. McDaniel, I—”

  “Dylan. Call me Dylan. I’m not a teacher or a doctor or even a banker. I’m just … Dylan.” He didn’t look irritated but maybe a bit exasperated.

  For some reason, that made her laugh out loud. It just burst forth, and she couldn’t stop it, covering her mouth in hopes she wouldn’t offend him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why that’s so funny. I guess I never really thought of it like that.” He scowled, looking confused. “I mean, that those professionals are the ones you never really call by their first names.” She sighed, bringing herself back down to earth. “Okay, by those standards, call me Tara. I’m not a doctor, only a nurse. And as for picking up supplies, I don’t expect you to run my errands for me.”

  “I told you, it’s no big deal. I’m going to the store anyway. If I’m going to survive at my house now, I need some groceries. I’m out of everything. I’ve been over here long enough that I’m scared to open my fridge and find out what smells.” This time, he laughed, and she joined in. Straightening, he turned back toward the kitchen. “I need to drain the bacon. You want to help make the orange juice and coffee?”