“No change,” Jack said, as he slid out of the truck and crouched to greet his son.
“Dad!” Seth cried as he threw himself into Jack’s arms. “What happened to Grandmother? Why is she in the hospital?”
Jack stroked his son’s head and clutched him tightly. Finally, he sighed, and lifting Seth as he stood, he carried his boy inside the main house.
Tracy followed, not really wanting to return to the site of last night’s vicious assault on Abra. The cold marble and formal decor of the main house didn’t welcome and warm her the way Jack’s house did, and she found herself longing for the homey, safe comfort of the old homestead.
After sending Edith to gather Seth’s things, Jack sat down on the living room couch with Seth on his lap. “Well, Spud, she hit her head. And because it hurt her brain, the doctors put her into a deep sleep, so that her head could heal.”
Seth wrinkled his nose in thought. “How did she hit her head? Was she playing too rough? Like when Brett and I wrestle, and you say to be careful ’cause someone could get hurt?”
Seth’s youthful innocence twisted in Tracy’s chest with a bittersweet pang. She grinned sadly, imagining a scene where Seth roughhoused with his uncle and Jack called them out.
“No, she wasn’t playing,” Jack said.
“Then what?” Seth’s eyes, so like his father’s in color, shape and attentiveness, widened in dismay and curiosity.”
Jack raised a glance to Tracy that asked for her help. This was where the explanation got dicey.
“She was in her bedroom,” Tracy volunteered, “and no one in the family was with her, so we don’t really know, for sure, what happened.”
Jack’s face said the vague, dodging answer would suffice. He gave a curt nod.
Tracy exhaled a cleansing breath and sat beside Jack, taking Seth’s hands in her own. “The important thing for you to know is, your grandmother has the best doctors taking care of her. She’s in good hands, and she just needs time to get better.” She prayed that was the truth. Until the doctors said otherwise, she intended to stay optimistic about Abra’s prognosis. The answer seemed to satisfy Seth, who tucked his head under his father’s chin and muttered, “Can we go home now?”
Edith returned with a Spider-Man backpack and a half-empty bottle of water. “Can I get either of you anything to eat? Greta called to say she and Mr. Colton would be at the hospital through lunch, but if either of you would like a sandwich or a reheated plate of brisket—”
Having no appetite, Tracy shook her head at the same time Jack said, “No. Thank you, Edith, but I’ll wait till I get back to the house to eat something. I just want to get this little guy settled in at home and catch up on returning phone calls. I’ll find something to eat after I see what’s been happening with the ranch this morning.”
Once they reached the old homestead, Jack parked in his usual spot behind house. As the three of them trudged into the house, Tracy glanced across the ranch yard, her attention snagged by a flash motion near the corner of one of the outbuildings. She caught a quick glance of a tall woman with dark brown hair just as the woman ducked into the shadows behind the bunkhouse.
Had she not known that Greta was at the hospital with her mother, she would have sworn that was who she’d seen. Remembering that she’d seen someone who looked like Greta from the upstairs window of the main house the week before, she asked, “Jack, do you have a lady on staff who is tall and dark-haired like your sister?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “I’m sure we have several people who fit that general description. Why do you ask?”
“I keep seeing someone around the ranch who looks like Greta.”
“Maybe it is Greta.”
“No. It’s always when I know Greta isn’t here. Like just now. I saw the woman in question out by the bunkhouse as we came inside, but I assume Greta’s still at the hospital.”
Jack’s brow dented in concern. “Spud, why don’t you build a spaceship for me out of your Legos?”
Seth gave his father a long uncertain look. “Will you help me?”
“I’ll help you,” Tracy volunteered. “I think your dad has work to do.”
He ruffled his son’s hair. “Tell you what, pal. You start working on that spaceship with Tracy, and I’ll check on you in a few minutes, okay?”
After giving his father one last wary look, Seth took Tracy’s hand. “Come on. I’ll show you my room.”
Jack strode back to the door he’d just locked behind them. “It’s probably nothing, but I’ll go have a look, just in case. Relock the door behind me.”
She nodded and did as he directed, then let Seth tow her upstairs to his toy-strewn room. Half an hour later, Jack joined them, answering her unspoken question with a shrug. “I didn’t find anyone and none of the hands saw anything.”
A prickle of apprehension scraped down her spine. “I know I saw someone.”
“You sure it wasn’t one of the hands? Ralph Highshaw is kinda slim and has dark hair.”
Tracy huffed her frustration. “No. I saw a woman. I’m almost sure...”
“Almost sure?” Jack’s direct gaze questioned her, and her own wording had her doubting.
Had she seen a woman? It made more sense that it had been one of the hands. She’d never met this Highshaw person. But the figure’s dark hair had been to the shoulders like Greta’s.
“Look, Daddy. It’s a fighter spaceship. See the guns?”
Seth’s enthusiasm as he showed his father the creation he’d been building chased most of the odd jitters from Tracy’s bones. She had enough to worry about with The Wolf, the Baxters’ hired assassin, hunting her without conjuring mysterious women lurking on the ranch.
“Hey, that’s impressive, Spud.” Jack settled on the floor next to her, his arm draping loosely around her shoulders as they spent the next several minutes listening to Seth explain the design of his fleet of Lego aircraft. If she closed her eyes and pushed her doubts and worries aside, Tracy could sink completely into a domestic fantasy where Jack was her husband and Seth their son. She could pretend this life was hers and no one was trying to kill her. The peaceful tranquility of that moment, and the childish excitement in Seth’s voice as he teased with his father warmed her heart. She longed for the boy’s resilience from his recent traumas, clearly based in his complete faith that his father would protect him. That once the danger had passed, he had nothing to fear, nothing to doubt in his life.
Reaching for that same level of confidence and trust in Jack, Tracy snuggled closer to the green-eyed cowboy. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.
That night, Tracy reveled in the chance to assist in Seth’s bedtime ritual. After Jack assisted with his son’s bath and the boy was in his pajamas, Tracy cuddled next to him on his bed to read several books together. The barn cat, Sleek, had sneaked inside at some point that afternoon and was curled at the foot of the bed. Tracy used her bare toes to rub the cat’s cheek and elicit a purr while Seth stumbled through reading Go, Dog, Go. She took many opportunities to kiss Seth’s head and inhale the fragile scent of his freshly shampooed hair. When the books were put away, she knelt with him beside the bed and listened to his innocent but earnest prayers.
“Dear God,” he said, eyes clenched shut and hands clasped tightly, “thank you for my Daddy and Pooh and Sleek. Thank you for my house and our food and my Legos. Help Grandmother get well and please make Ms. Tracy my real mom. Amen.”
Tracy’s heart swelled to bursting and with tears in her eyes, she raised a startled look first to Seth, who climbed back into bed, oblivious to her surprise, and then to Jack, who looked as poleaxed by his son’s prayer as she. Gathering her composure, she tucked Seth in, wished him a good night and waited in the hallway while Jack did the same.
“Oh, Jack,” she whispered as he came out and closed Seth’s door. “I promise I never said anything to him about—”
“Shh.” He touched a finger to his lips and motio
ned with a jerk of his head for her to follow him farther down the hall. When they stood between his bedroom door and the one to the guest room, he faced her. Putting a hand at her waist, he drew her close and threaded his fingers through her hair.
“I never said anything to him about being his mother. I swear!” she finished in a hushed tone.
He lifted one dark eyebrow as he caressed her cheek. “Are you saying you wouldn’t want to?”
Her eyes widened. “No! I—I’d love to be his mother.” Realizing how that sounded and not wanting to appear pushy, she backpedaled. “I mean...Seth is a great kid. Anyone would be lucky to have a boy like him to call their own.”
Jack’s cheek hiked in a lopsided grin. “I’m not accusing you of anything. But I’m not blind. I see the rapport you have with him. You’ll be a great mother someday.”
His compliment wound through her, warming places left cold and dead by Cliff’s heartlessness and insults. She lowered her gaze, her pulse racing like a wild stallion on the open range. She tried to reply, but forming a cohesive thought was hard while Jack was touching her.
When she flattened her palm against his chest, she felt the strong, drubbing beat of his heart, and that steady, life-affirming thud was one of the sweetest, sexiest things she’d ever experienced. Because it was Jack. Because his powerful presence was reassuring. Because she remembered so vividly having that pounding heartbeat pressed tight against her own just last night.
“About last night,” he started, as if reading her thoughts. And why wouldn’t he know what she’d been thinking? She’d always been told her face was an open book. But more important, she’d sensed from her first day on the ranch that she and Jack had a unique connection. A link that went beyond the spark of passion that crackled when they were close.
“Jack...” she whispered, and he silenced her with a soft kiss.
“I haven’t forgotten where we were, what we’d started when...” he left his sentence trail off.
When Abra was attacked and left for dead. The unspoken words hung between them, and a shiver raced through her. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, chasing away the chill of fear.
“Do you remember what I told you earlier this week...in my office?” he whispered, his breath a warm tickle in her ear.
“You said a lot of things in your office.” Her lips twitched with a teasing grin.
“Let me help you remember, then.” He trailed light kisses along her cheek to the tip of her nose, and her breath snagged in her lungs. “I said that I finish...” he nibbled at her lips. “...what I start.”
His meaning dawned on her as he deepened his kiss, and her heart jolted. He caught her tiny gasp with the caress of his mouth on hers. Even as her body melted against his, the heat and sweet tension of desire coiling in her core, her head rebelled. How could she make love to Jack and not end up with a broken heart? He hadn’t said he loved her. He’d made no promises beyond protecting her until the Baxters’ assassin was stopped. How could she deepen the bond she felt for him, give him her body, and not lose her heart to him?
But, oh mercy, she wanted him. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t seize this chance to be held and loved by this tender and passionate man. Every woman should know how it felt to be cherished and fully aroused by a loving man at least once in her life. Shouldn’t they? And she’d certainly never had that kind of gentle intimacy with Cliff.
As if sensing her hesitance, Jack lifted his head and peered deep into her eyes. “Tracy?”
She swallowed hard and listened to the whisper of her heart. “Yes, Jack. Make love to me.”
* * *
In the days that followed, the home-like family atmosphere the three of them shared and the lack of disturbance to the ranch’s routine made it easy to picture herself as part of Jack’s family. By day, she helped nurture Seth, cooked their meals and shared the ranch chores. By night, she slept with Jack, made love to him until they were both spent, then slipped back into her own guest bed before dawn, so that Seth wouldn’t find them together should the boy wake early and sneak into his father’s room.
It was a comfortable, blissfully simple life, and she was with two people she’d grown to love. What could be better?
She tried hard to quiet the voice of doubt that said Jack was merely using her body because she was convenient. He’d still given her no pledge of love, no promises of the future. She wanted to just enjoy this time on the ranch for what it was. A glorious, happy time. A respite before she had to return to her real life and her empty apartment in Denver. But with every day that passed, she fell deeper in love with Jack Colton and his son. Leaving them, when the time came, would be the hardest thing she’d ever done.
For all the joy she felt with each new day, the specter of danger lurked at the edges of every thought, every horseback ride, every family meal. She couldn’t forget that a killer still hunted her, and she spent her days looking over her shoulder, jumping at shadows.
Abra’s attack remained at the fore as well. Every day, after the work of the ranch was done, the three of them would drive in to the hospital to check on Abra and Big J. Jack’s father refused to leave his wife, choosing instead to eat, sleep and shower at the hospital, despite his family’s urging to get some rest at home. Day after day, Abra remained in the drug-induced coma, her condition stable but serious.
On the afternoon of her eighth day of living at Jack’s house, Tracy stepped out of the shower, having needed a second one that day thanks to a messy incident involving a rambunctious little boy and a muddy holding pen. The house was eerily quiet, and she was anxious to dry off, re-dress and find Jack and Seth.
She spotted Jack near the stable from the guest room window as she toweled dry her hair, and once she’d put on a fresh pair of shorts and sandals, she headed out to meet him.
Jack greeted her with a brilliant smile and kiss. “Have I ever told you how great you smell?”
She chuckled. “No. But it’s not hard to smell better than most of the things on this ranch.”
“True,” he said, taking another deep whiff of her newly shampooed hair and hugging her tight.
“Where’s Seth? Doesn’t he need a bath, too? Last I saw him, he was pretty muddy.”
“I hosed him off behind the barn.”
She gave an indelicate snort. “Hosed him off? Like he was livestock?”
“He’s only going to get dirty again before dinner.” Jack turned back to the saddle he was oiling. “He rode out to the north pasture to help Brett and the hands with sorting, vaccinating and branding calves.”
She drew a sharp breath. “Branding? Isn’t that rather a...harsh thing for him to witness?”
Jack lifted a shoulder. “It’s part of ranching. Something he needs to learn. He’ll be fine.”
She opened her mouth to disagree but snapped it closed again. Jack loved his son and raised him by different methods than she would, but that didn’t make his ways wrong.
Jack moved closer to her and rubbed a thumb over the crease she hadn’t realized she’d made between her eyebrows. Lifting the corner of his mouth in a grin that was becoming a familiar part of his repertoire, he repeated, “He’ll be fine.”
She returned a grin and nodded. “All right. I trust you.”
His grin grew more amused, and he shifted his hand to cup the back of her head. “So I have your approval to raise my son as I see fit?”
An awkward flush prickled in her cheeks. “I only meant—”
He silenced her explanation with a slow and sultry kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. When he stepped back, he tweaked her chin. “What if we headed out to the branding pen ourselves and gave them a hand?”
“Me?” She blinked rapidly. “How would I help?”
“Plenty of ways.” He gave her a raised-eyebrow look that sent a silent challenge. “Assuming you don’t mind getting your hands dirty again.”
“You couldn’t have told me this before I showered?”
H
e flipped up a palm. “You didn’t ask.”
“Branding, huh?” Tracy squared her shoulders and jerked a firm nod. “Bring it on.” Then glancing down at her shorts and peasant top and sandals, she added, “Let me go change into work clothes, and I’ll be right back.”
She stood on her toes to give him another quick kiss, gave Sleekie a scratch on the cheek as she passed the straw bale where the cat napped and marched across the ranch yard toward Jack’s house.
Tracy inhaled the sweet scent of hay that was carried on the June breeze and smiled up at the wide blue Oklahoma sky. She noticed she had a bounce in her step that matched the delight that filled her chest. It surprised her to realize that she, a city girl, was truly happy here at the ranch. Sure, she was still getting used to the early hours, the hard work and the dirty jobs that went along with ranching, but when she tumbled into bed at night, achy and exhausted, she had never felt as satisfied and accomplished.
After years of teetering on a precipice because of Cliff, she finally was beginning to feel as if her feet were on solid ground.
Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to check the message. She read the message from her landlord in Denver, asking when she planned to return and reminding her that her rent was due in three days.
Her heart gave a painful throb at the thought of leaving the ranch once the police caught The Wolf and she was safe to return to her home in Denver. While she’d formed the bond she’d hoped to with Seth, she hadn’t counted on falling in love with the little boy’s father.
What if—
A heavy object struck a sharp blow to her head. Pain exploded through her skull. Her knees crumpled, and as she slid toward the ground, a muscled arm caught her around the waist. A smelly rag was slapped over her nose, the bite of some pungent chemical burning her nostrils.
Jack, help! her brain screamed, but she couldn’t make her mouth form the words. Her vision grew fuzzy, dimming. Her last images were of the world tilting as the brute hefted her up. Tossed her over a meaty shoulder. Then everything went black.
Colton Cowboy Protector Page 20
