Colton Cowboy Protector

by Beth Cornelison

  Hellfire! What was he doing? He didn’t need to be indulging in lustful fantasies about this woman if he was going to do his job as a father and protect Seth from her meddling.

  Tracy took a step back from him and bumped the wall behind her. Flexing her hands and wiping her palms on the skirt of her dress, she wet her lips and raised her chin. “I won’t tell Seth anything that contradicts you.” The nervous glint in her liquid eyes belied the set of her shoulders. “But neither will I lie to him if he asks me directly.”

  Jack gritted his teeth. “Ms. McCain, I’m warning you...”

  “You don’t need to make threats, Jack. I told you I have Seth’s best interests at heart, same as you.” She placed a trembling hand on his arm and pushed at him. “Now let me pass.”

  He didn’t move right away, stubbornly keeping her trapped to let her know he would have the final say, not only with Seth but in this discussion. Finally, he stepped aside and swept a hand toward the living room, granting her passage. She stalked away, leaving a hint of her sweet floral scent behind. He experienced an unwanted, but not unpleasant, visceral reaction to the heady honeysuckle aroma she trailed in her wake. Maybe, he thought wryly, the vixen had gotten the last word, after all.

  Chapter 5

  Early the next morning, Tracy hitched a ride with Brett in a utility vehicle across the wide ranch yard to the outbuildings. First stop, Jack’s house to pick up Seth.

  As Brett parked in front of the age-worn wood-and-hand-carved-stone house, Tracy admired the ranch-style home where Jack and Seth lived. Where Laura had once lived. How could this gorgeous abode and beautiful setting not have been enough for Laura?

  “This used to be the main house, before Abra had the new house built,” Brett said, tooting the tinny-sounding horn of the utility vehicle. “It’s over a hundred years old, but has been kept in good repair through the years.”

  Seth came scampering through the front door with Jack close behind. He raced up to her like an eager puppy, grinning ear to ear. “Hi, Miss Tracy!”

  “Good morning. Aren’t you full of energy so early in the day?” She ruffled the boy’s still-sleep-rumpled hair. “What’s your secret?”

  He gave her an I-don’t-know shrug.

  “Sugar,” Brett said under his breath. “Jack lets the kid eat all the chocolate cereal he wants for breakfast.”

  “Wrong,” Jack said as he drew close to them. “He only gets that crap when he stays at the main house.”

  Tracy shifted her attention to the older Colton brother, and her pulse did a little morning jig. Jack was obviously fresh from his shower, his hair still damp and curling near his collar. His work clothes were crisp and carried the clean scent of laundry detergent, and he had recently shaved his square jaw and angled cheekbones. Beneath the rim of a black cowboy hat, his eyes held an especially magnetic emerald gleam in the early-morning sun. His blue jeans hugged his lean hips and his muscled thighs in a way that left no secret that Jack was every bit as fit and toned as she imagined a career rancher and horseman would be.

  Her mouth dried, and her palms sweated. Good-looking though he was, Brett hadn’t had this gut-tightening effect on her when he’d appeared on the back porch, ready to escort her to the stable. Jack had a certain...something about him that spoke to her. An elusive additional quality that made her nerves spark and heightened her senses.

  “Hop in, buddy. I have things to do,” Brett told Seth, aiming a thumb at the back of the MULE.

  When Seth started for the backseat of the utility vehicle, Jack caught the back of his shirt and pulled him up short. “Not needed. He can walk over with me. If Seth’s going out for a ride on the property, I’m going, too.”

  Tracy sat taller, a tickle of apprehension in her gut. “You don’t have to go. He’ll be well cared for. Greta and I will keep a close eye on—”

  “Ms. McCain, do you remember our conversation last night in the alcove?”

  How could she forget? Cornered by his muscular body and lectured to as if she were a schoolgirl, she should have been frightened. His body language and demeanor had been similar to the intimidation techniques Cliff had used. But she’d sensed two things in Jack that had calmed her fears.

  First, a well-controlled restraint. The passion behind Jack’s intensity last night had been a love for his son, whereas Cliff’s violent and malevolent rages had been rooted in a savage cruelty and lack of self-control.

  And second, she’d felt a strong undercurrent of attraction. While she was unnerved by that sensual spark between them, she couldn’t call it fear. She felt safe with Jack Colton, yet vulnerable to him because of her body’s carnal response to his presence.

  “I meant what I said about supervising your time with Seth,” he continued. “We’ll meet you there in five.” His clipped tone left no room for argument.

  Oo-kaay. So Jack would be joining them on the horseback excursion around the property. Her stomach fluttered a little with nervous energy. Novice that she was, she prayed she didn’t embarrass herself in the saddle in front of Jack.

  Greta had arrived at the stable ahead of them and greeted Tracy with a cheery hello. Brett waved goodbye and made a gesture with his hand to indicate she should phone him when she was ready to be driven back up to the main house, since the walk was two miles. Her feet ached from having made the trek yesterday in her “sensible” pumps, which had proved highly unsensible for a ranch. This morning she’d worn tennis shoes and jeans, the only jeans she’d brought with her. Tracy could see that a shopping trip for more practical ranch clothes would be on the agenda for that afternoon or tomorrow.

  Her hostess had a dark brown horse with a black mane and tail already saddled and was leading a lighter brown horse out of the stable. “Hey there, Tracy! I’ve got Mabel all saddled and ready for you.”

  Tracy eyed the dark brown horse with a bit of trepidation. She’d never spent much time around horses, and she was unsure what to do with the mare. She wanted to exude more confidence than she felt, nonetheless, so she strode forward and reached for Mabel’s nose.

  “Wait!” Greta called. “Don’t approach her from straight on. That’s her blind spot. Come at her at an angle so she can see you. Then give her the back of your hand to smell, like when you greet a dog for the first time.”

  Tracy sucked in a deep breath and edged sideways, adjusting her approach. “Hi, Mabel,” she said sweetly and held out her hand as she neared.

  The mare snuffled and sniffed her, and when Mabel lowered her nose, Tracy patted her neck.

  “That’s the way,” Greta said with a grin as she slung her saddle over her horse. “Mabel is a sweetheart. She’s the horse we always give visitors, since she’s so easygoing. Just be firm with her, or she’ll want to dally in the fields to nibble all day.”

  The thud of footsteps drew Tracy’s attention as Seth ran up and climbed on the rungs of the corral fence. “Are you gonna ride Mabel, Miss Tracy?”

  “Seems so.” She gave the mare another pat and glanced past Seth to his father. Once again a bolt of electric attraction streaked through her, stealing her breath. Jack was so ruggedly handsome, his stride so confident and relaxed...

  “Let’s go, buddy.” Jack ruffled his son’s hair as he passed. “Bring Pooh out of his stall, and let’s get him saddled.”

  Seth hopped down from the fence and grabbed her hand. “Come on, Miss Tracy. You can help me.”

  “Oh...uh, Seth, I don’t—” The rest of her protest was lost in a gasp as a black animal streaked from the shadows and ran right in front of her, nearly tripping her.

  Seth laughed. “You’re not scared of Sleekie, are you, Miss Tracy?”

  She pressed a hand over her runaway heart and looked for the animal in question. A black cat sat on a hay bale in the corner of the stable, tail swishing. “Is that Sleekie? The cat?”

  “Yep,” Seth said, tugging her forward again. “Don’t worry. Black cats aren’t really bad luck. You don’t have to be scared.”

  Sh
e smiled sheepishly. “I know. She just startled me is all.”

  “Her real name is Oh La La Sleek. But we just call her Sleek or Ohla, ’cause Daddy says her real name is a mouthful.”

  “I see.” An amused grin twitched Tracy’s lips as she listened to the little boy chatter. Pausing, she cast a backward glance to the end of the stable, where Jack paused to give Sleek a leisurely head scratch before taking a coiled rope off a hook on the wall. His gentle attention to the cat was evidence of what Laura had said about his tender side. Tough as leather on the outside, but soft as whipped butter toward anyone he loves. Tracy felt her heart melt like that same butter on a hot waffle.

  “I can lead Pooh myself—” Seth called, interrupting her food analogy.

  Maria Sanchez had been preparing breakfast as Tracy had left. The aromas of pork and warm maple syrup had made her stomach growl, and she could hardly wait to dig into the bacon and waffles waiting when they returned from their ride.

  “—but Daddy has to check my saddle. He says that’s just in case. He wants to be sure I’m safe.” Seth opened the gate to a stall and walked in to greet his pony. “Morning, Pooh! Wanna go for a ride?”

  Tracy approached Pooh from an angle, as Greta had instructed with Mabel, and held her hand out to the pony.

  Seth clipped a lead onto the pony’s bridle and tugged him forward. “Move it, Pooh!”

  Tracy followed as the pony plodded out into the alley, and Jack helped his son ready the small horse for their ride. As Jack worked, Seth kept up his excited dialogue about being the ring bearer in Greta’s wedding, the herd of cattle and his first loose tooth, one topic flowing into the next as if they were related. He opened his mouth to point out his wiggling incisor.

  “Thee?” Seth lisped around the dirty finger, and Tracy tried not to think about the germs the boy would swallow as a result. Boys and dirt went together, she figured, craning her neck to admire the loose tooth.

  “Wow! That’s almost ready to come out!” she enthused, then glanced up as Greta strolled into the stable to check on them.

  Seth bobbed his head. “I can’t wait! Uncle Brett says if I put it under my pillow, the tooth fairy will bring me twenty dollars!”

  Jack choked and coughed. He sent his son a wide-eyed look of dismay before pulling a face and returning to the buckles and straps he was adjusting.

  Greta laughed and leaned close to her older brother. “Even the tooth fairy is subject to inflation.”

  “I think Brett’s about to owe me money,” he muttered in return. Soon Jack had his saddle buckled and Seth’s double-checked, and the group was ready to ride.

  When it was her turn to mount up, Jack moved behind Tracy and wrapped his big hands around her waist, giving her a boost into the saddle.

  “How much do you remember about riding?” he asked as she settled on Mabel’s back.

  “Not much. It’s been ten years since that trail ride in the Rockies.”

  He grunted in acknowledgment and let his hand linger on her hip as he handed her the reins. “Leave a little slack in the reins, but not too much. Keep your head up and watch where you are going, not the horse,” he said, but she was distracted by the heat of his palm on her hip. His handprint felt seared into her with a tantalizing tingle.

  “Keep the ball of your foot in the stirrup. If you need help, don’t panic or shout, you’ll scare the horse. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She gave a nod of understanding as he pulled Mabel’s harness, and the mare followed Greta’s horse and Seth’s pony as they set out.

  Tracy squeezed the leather straps in her hand as they headed across the nearest field. Seth whistled to the cows as if they were dogs and laughed as calves romped and ran to their mothers.

  “As long as we’re out here,” Jack called, loud enough for his sister to hear, “we should use the time to check the fences up in the north pasture.”

  Greta signaled a thumbs-up and steered her horse toward a gate in the main field. Jack swung down from his saddle to open the gate and let them through before securing the fence and mounting Buck again in one smooth, practiced motion. His athleticism and natural agility prodded Tracy’s pulse to a dizzy cadence. Jack personified every romantic cowboy she’d ever seen in movies or read about in novels. Lean, tough, handsome and so sexy.

  “Tracy!” he shouted, yanking her guiltily out of her daydreaming. She’d been staring at Jack’s snug jeans and the skillful way he managed his horse with subtle body movements and tongue clicks. He motioned for her to join the group, which was leaving her behind. “You have to pull up on her reins and make her obey your direction. Mabel will lollygag all day if you let her.”

  “Oh...right.” Tracy drew and released a cleansing breath, then pulled hard on the reins and goaded her mare. “Time to go, Mabel. Come on, sweetie. Yah!” She tried giving the mare a light kick with her heels. Mabel only chewed another mouthful of prairie grass.

  “Let her know you’re boss,” Greta called. “Pull harder on the reins. Bring her head up.”

  Tracy tried again, afraid to hurt the horse by tugging too hard. She certainly didn’t want to anger the thousand-plus-pound beast she was sitting on.

  Jack rode back to her and reached for her reins. “Come on, Mabel.” He brought the horse’s head up and gave the mare a slap on the rump to get her moving.

  Mabel trotted forward, bouncing Tracy in the saddle. After a few minutes, they reached the northern pasture and rode along the fence line so Greta and Jack could survey the condition of the barrier.

  “So, uh, what’s the goal here?” Tracy asked.

  “Maintenance,” Jack said, pulling alongside her.

  “If ya see a post that’s broke, holler,” Seth said matter-of-factly, as if he were ranch manager instead of his father.

  “Fences are always getting knocked down or damaged by weather or by...” Greta glanced to Seth and cleared her throat before finishing. “Umm...amorous bulls.”

  Tracy chuckled. “Pardon?”

  “If there is a cow in heat in a neighboring field,” Jack explained, “a bull might knock down a fence trying to get to her.”

  He gave Tracy a level look, and she felt the rising tingle in her cheeks as she flushed. “Oh.”

  “Generally, we manage the breeding program, which includes keeping the cows and bulls in separate pastures. But every now and then, a bull gets out of containment. The instinct to breed is a powerful thing, and pasture fence won’t hold a one-ton bull answering that most primitive impulse.”

  Jack’s gaze lingered, a sensual heat filling his piecing stare. Tracy shifted restlessly on her saddle, her skin suddenly feeling both too tight and prickly, as if sunburned.

  “There’s one, Daddy!” Seth called, heading off with his pony at a canter.

  Tracy jerked her attention away from Jack’s weighty gaze to see what Seth had found. By squinting against the morning sun, she spotted a leaning fence post some distance off. “How did he see that?” she muttered.

  “The boy’s got eagle eyes. Better than his ole dad’s,” Jack said, before riding ahead to join his son.

  Before Tracy could reach them, Seth was already off Pooh and messing with the broken post. While Jack opened a flap on his saddlebag and brought out a few tools, his son pushed on the wooden post and flapped the loose barbed wire. Greta reined her horse next to Tracy and swung down with an easy finesse to help. Tracy gripped the saddle horn and eyed the distance to the ground with trepidation.

  Here goes nothing... She stood in her stirrups and swung her foot over Mabel’s back, only to have her already tired muscles wobble as she tried to hop smoothly to the ground. Instead she stumbled awkwardly, nearly landing on her butt. When she regained her balance, she shot a rueful glance toward Jack and found him watching her with an amused grin twitching one cheek.

  “Just call me Grace,” she said with a good-natured eye roll, earning a wider smile from Jack. The rare smile transformed his face from ruggedly handsome to breathtaking, and Trac
y did, in fact, struggle to draw air into her suddenly tight lungs.

  A cry from Seth shattered the moment, and both Jack and Tracy whirled toward the boy, who held out his bleeding hand with tears filling his eyes.

  She rushed forward, concerned about him, as Jack knelt to examine the injury.

  “What happened?” Greta asked, peering over her brother’s shoulder.

  “I hurt my hand on a poker on the wire. It’s bleeding lots!” Seth gaped at his injury with childlike horror.

  Jack used his shirttail to wipe the blood from Seth’s hand and judge the extent of the wound. “Aw, it’s not so bad. Barely a scratch. We’ll slap a Band-Aid on there, and you’ll be good to go.”

  When his father rose to retrieve some first-aid supplies from his saddlebag, Seth turned to Tracy with puppy-dog eyes set to full power and his chin quivering. “It really hurts.”

  Sympathy arrowed through her and, crouching, she held out her arms. Seth fell immediately into her embrace, and she examined his hand herself. “You poor thing. I bet that’s sore. Don’t worry, we’ll make it all better.”

  Seth snuggled close. “Will you kiss it? Dillon says his mommy kisses his boo-boos.”

  “Of course I will, sweetie.” And she did, giving the palm of his hand a big smacking kiss, plus another on his forehead.

  Seth smiled through his sniffles and leaned his head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Miss Tracy.”

  Jack glanced back at his son and frowned. “Seth, it’s not that bad. You’ve had worse and didn’t cry this much over it. Don’t be a baby.”

  Tracy glared at Jack. “He’s not a baby, but even big boys need a little TLC from time to time.”

  Jack pulled a disgruntled face as he brought disinfectant spray, a sterile wipe and a Band-Aid over and knelt in front of them. “Okay, Spud. Let me see it.”

  “Can Tracy do it?” he asked in a timid voice.

  Jack blinked, looking a tad hurt. “Well, I guess.”

  She sent him a silent apology with her eyes as she accepted the wound-cleansing spray and wipe from him. Holding Seth’s hand gently in position, she poised the antibiotic spray. “Okay, close your eyes and think about your favorite video game.”