The other men would have to be blind not to discern Tamara’s interest in him. There was a distinct difference in the way she acted when he was around. The minx would toss her hair and laugh out loud in a sexy voice, doing everything possible to draw his attention. It all seemed to make the cowboys feel very nervous and protective. He didn’t blame them. Regardless of the tougher-than-nails attitude Tamara portrayed so well, there was no denying the vulnerability she tried to hide. He was glad she had the loyal group of men watching out for her.
Once again, Dakota became lost in the rhythm of the familiar task of grooming the horse. He was pampering Star Gazer today since discovering the big chestnut gelding was favoring one of his legs. While it didn’t appear to be anything more serious than an overworked muscle, he was taking no chances. He had already created a healing poultice of special herbs, which now sat on a clay pot absorbing the heat of the sun. When he was done working with Star he would spread the warm substance on a length of cloth, and wrap the effected area.
Tamara’s high-pitched, fear-filled scream sliced through the companionable quiet of the ranch yard.
While the cowboys were slow to react, Dakota was over the corral fence in one swift leap, then racing across the short distance. He was just mounting the steps as she flew out the door into his arms, and began climbing him as though he were a tree. She didn’t stop until her arms wrapped around his head, holding him in a firm grip, and she was almost sitting on his shoulder. Her entire body trembled against him like a leaf caught in a strong wind.
A small portion of his focus was drawn to the commotion playing out behind his back. Riotous laughter was greeted by a half-hearted curse. “Shit, Riley. What the hell did you do now?” Dakota thought it was Brock who growled the question.
Dakota turned and walked to the main house, stopping at the front porch, where he began the difficult task of peeling one very frightened princess off him. Keeping part of his attention on the cowboys, a clear picture began to take shape. It seemed those boys thought using Tamara’s fears was a great way to get her attention.
Millie, the ranch cook, stomped out onto the porch, followed by Craig, the bookkeeper. Millie’s wiry gray hair shone almost white in the bright sun, standing out in stark contrast to her deep brown skin. With her hands fisted at her ample hips, the large woman made a quick survey of the scene. Sharp, assessing dark brown eyes took no time at all to figure out what happened.
Craig’s young daughter, Mandy, raced around the side of the house and came to a skidding halt at the bottom of the steps. Dakota gave her a reassuring smile to help settle the fear and alarm he sensed rising within the child. He’d been told of her recent trauma from being trapped in a cave by a pedophile, along with Savannah’s daring rescue attempt. The girl had made great strides toward resuming a normal life, but became upset if things seemed the least bit dangerous.
It took several minutes to get Tamara settled against the shelter of his chest as Dakota murmured ancient Cheyenne words of comfort. His hands moved in a soothing pattern over her back as she hiccupped and sobbed for several minutes before being able to tell them what happened.
“T-there’s a m-mouse…in my cabin. Last time it was a s-snake in the toilet…hooked to fishing string. About scared m-me to death. Cord and Riley had it out. The p-pranks had stopped…until now.”
Craig shook his head, while Mandy looked disappointed in the men upon hearing the story. She idolized Riley as her knight in shining armor. Her hurt over his part in scaring Tamara was evident on her sweet face.
“Honey child, you come inside with me now,” Millie said, taking hold of Tamara’s arm. “I think these boys have a few things to work out, and they don’t need you in the middle mucking up the works.” She held out a hand to Mandy. “Come on, sugar. I’ve got a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies cooling in the kitchen.”
While guiding the much smaller woman into the house, Millie shot a penetrating look over her shoulder at Dakota. “I knew those boys would be up to their rowdy tricks with the bossman gone. I’m leavin’ this mess with you to sort out, son.” Without waiting for a response, she moved her charges into the house.
With a heavy sigh, Dakota headed toward the cabin, doing his best to ignore the other men. He’d already learned his princess held a profound fear of some of nature’s smaller creatures. Snakes were at the top of a long list, which included any type of rodent or small, burrowing animals.
What he found in the cabin wasn’t much of a surprise. Savannah had forewarned him about Riley’s inventive pranks. Even though he saw the humor in the other man’s creativity, he wasn’t able to forgive Riley for playing on Tamara’s fears.
When he’d opened the bedroom door, a small, realistic looking rubber mouse scurried across the wooden floor. On closer inspection, he found fishing line trailing from the bottom corner of the door to the rodent, rigged in such a way that when the door was opened it pulled the mouse across its path.
Under other circumstances he would have chuckled, but protective instincts made his blood boil. A violent rage tested the limits of his calm spirit. For the first time in his memory, Dakota felt like causing harm to another. Set up for anyone else it would have been a funny prank. Sprung on someone with known fears of such creatures, it was downright cruel.
Snapping the line, Dakota reeled in the rubber rodent and let it hang from his fist. Turning on his heel, he faced the four cowboys who waited inside the front door. They all stood with a deliberate air of calm, a casual relaxation in their stance, with the exception of Zeke. He appeared to be experiencing genuine upset over what had happened. Brock wore an expression of passive acceptance. Riley and Jesse, the smug look of little boys basking in the glow of success from a great prank having been sprung with success. Although, Dakota was certain they would have been happier with the results if Tamara had flown into one of their arms instead of his.
He knew every one of them cared for Tamara, yet they turned a blind eye, accepting the brassy, free-spirited front she put on. Not one of them took the time to take a closer look at the woman and find out what made her tick. They didn’t allow themselves to see her dissatisfaction with life in general or make the effort to help her change things.
The four men watched his every move, anticipated his reaction and waited for a big scene, but Dakota would not be giving it to them. Let them get their cheap jollies at someone else’s expense. They had been trying to provoke a response from him since his arrival, but he would not give them the satisfaction of playing into their game.
A visible tension rippled through each man as he walked toward the front door, making his way out of the cabin without a word, dropping the fake mouse into a wastebasket along the way. While he wanted to go and provide comfort to Tamara, he returned to the corral instead. After picking up the clay pot, Dakota resumed tending to the horse.
Using a wooden spatula, he began to spread the thick poultice onto a long, thin strip of muslin. He snuck surreptitious glances from the corner of his eye as the cowboys began to file back out of the cabin and return to their work. It was obvious they were disturbed by his lack of rejoinder to their antics. Even Brock, the most levelheaded of the group, seemed to be perplexed.
Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Dakota was able to hide his grin. He refused to fit in to the niche the Shooting Star’s cowboys had picked out for him, having no intention of making things easy for them. He could almost see the wheels turning as they puzzled out ways to get a reaction out of him. It was apparent they were not used to dealing with someone who possessed any amount of self-control.
The hands kept a close watch on him as he went about his business of working with the horse. Not a moment went by he didn’t feel their eyes watching every move he made.
As things returned to a normal rhythm, everyone began to relax. He sensed the plotting going on, and instinct told him the focus of the pranksters would be turning toward him. Good. Better him than Tamara, even though Dakota knew the less res
ponse they were able to get out of him, the more dramatic the stunts would become. Things were going to be very interesting until the hands became accustomed to his ways.
Scorching hot rays of summer sun beat down on them as they went about their work. Before long, shirts were plastered to sweaty bodies. When Dakota removed the offensive garment, he felt the other men sizing him up. Although he was only as tall as the shortest of the cowboys, his well-developed muscles and dark coloring along with his controlled presence made him appear much larger.
With an inward chuckle, he wondered when the measuring stick would be pulled out. The pissing contest was already well underway, regardless if he refused to play.
??
Taking a deep breath, Tamara allowed the tension to seep out of her body as she sat talking with Millie in the kitchen. Everyone else had gone back to what they’d been doing before the drama had unfolded.
“Riley gets me with those damn childish pranks every time.”
“And he’ll keep at it,” Millie said. “Long as you keep reacting, he’ll keep prankin’ you. That cowboy wants your attention and this is the most sure fire way to get it.”
What she said made sense. In the short time since the older woman had come to the ranch, Millie had become the mother Tamara had never known. She felt comforted by being in the other woman’s presence. The sage advice Millie dished out along with her wonderful culinary creations had already proved useful on several occasions.
“At least I got cookies out of it.” Tamara’s wide grin made Millie chuckle like she’d hoped it would.
“So how do I get him to stop?”
“I’m not sure he will stop since you’ve been paying so much attention to Dakota.” Tamara started to object, but Millie held her hand up and kept talking. “Don’t try to deny it, honey child. The heat between you two is enough to light the burner on the stove.”
Tamara snorted. “That obvious, huh?
“Only to anyone with eyes.”
“What that smartass Riley has yet to realize is he’s cost the whole lot of them any of my attention.” At least until she no longer was able to withstand the build-up of sexual energy. And if or when she decided to let them fuck her again, Tamara had every intention of making them work for it.
The very idea brought a wicked smile to her face. Those boys had no idea what they were in for. Yet for some reason the idea of fucking the cowboys no longer held the same appeal it once had. How strange.
“Things are going to change around here, Millie. Those boys will have to find someone else to mess with.”
And damn the super calm, know-it-all Dakota. She had expected a reaction similar to Cord’s pissed off mood when the cowboys played tricks on her, but when she glanced out the window, surveying the men working in the yard, no one had a black eye and everything seemed peaceful.
Too damn peaceful.
“It’s awfully quiet out there.”
“I imagine Dakota has his own way of handlin’ things. He’s more subtle than Cord, less in your face.”
Well, she’d stir things up soon enough.
“How do I handle them now, Millie?”
“Best thing you can do is not react the way those boy’s are waiting for. Show them the games aren’t working and they’ll have to change their tactics. And most important, never let them see ya sweat, honey child.”
It was a good plan. She would show a cool, calm and collected front the men would not expect possible after their prank. It would eat them up wondering why she wasn’t upset.
Standing inside the house, she prepared herself for the walk across the yard, replaying Millie’s advice in her mind. With nary a whisper of sound, she opened the door and headed across the porch, making a quick mental note of the men’s activities.
When she caught sight of Dakota working in the corral, she almost fell down the steps, catching herself at the last moment before tumbling ass over teakettle into the yard. The glorious sight would forever be burned into her memory. Although she’d dated some very gorgeous men over the years, nothing prepared her for the sight of a shirtless Dakota Blackhawk.
“Good gravy.”
The man was a work of art suitable of gracing a lighted pedestal in the most impressive gallery. Perspiration glistened along dark cinnamon skin, which held a glow from healthy living. Not an inch of the man was lacking in well-defined muscle. Strength and vitality seeped from every pore of his hard body. She found it impossible to imagine a more perfect male specimen.
It was difficult to not outright stare at the miles of rippling sinew creating such a wonderful display of masculinity. Light and shadow melded in a magical dance over each glorious curve and angle across massive shoulders, wide chest, and impressive abdomen. She would find it easy to lose herself for weeks tracing each powerful arc and crease, tasting each beautiful inch of dark skin.
He turned toward the horse he was working with, giving her an unobstructed view of flexing muscles working across a very broad back. His shiny blue-black hair was wrapped in a thong, creating a short tail, which swished down between those drool-worthy shoulders she longed to nibble on.
A tattooed chain of small black ovals ringed his left arm. As he’d turned once again, she followed the chain as it melded with perfection into the seam between sinews, connected on the front of his biceps by twin feathers dangling down over thick male flesh. Hell if it wasn’t the hottest tattoo she’d ever seen, perfectly suited to the man it graced.
Drinking in the sight of his delicious pecs, garnished with flat brown nipples riding low on the outer edge of each defined muscle, she found herself wondering what would please this man. Would he enjoy having his nipples licked, nibbled, teased? Would he enjoy the warm slide of her tongue as she laved each yummy slat over his washboard abdomen, dipping into the dark, shadowed navel?
The faded jeans he wore didn’t do much to disguise the massive accumulation of muscle gracing long, thick legs. She felt an insatiable curiosity to discover if there were any more tattoos adorning his magnificent body, and if what looked to be a very large package was even half as impressive as the rest of him.
When she climbed into the driver’s seat of her Jeep and shut the door, Tamara released the pent up breath she’d not even been aware of holding. Under normal circumstances her cowboys would have held her undivided attention, but they never even entered her mind as she’d crossed the yard. Every iota of her conscious thought had been locked on Dakota, wiping everyone and everything else from existence.
With her sheer grit and indomitable spirit firmly back in place, Tamara gunned the Jeep and headed out to seize the bull by the horns. She was one pit bull of a cowgirl who would not turn loose until the final buzzer rang declaring her the victor. And she planned to ride this wild bull to win. She began the careful contemplation and plotting of what it would take to bring down the very calm, unflappable horseman.
“Get ready, cowboy. It’s gonna be a wild ride.”
For right now though, she felt like going a good ten rounds with Jose Cuervo while devising the downfall of one Dakota Blackhawk.
Instead of tying one on, Tamara headed to town and her saving grace, Paperback Roundup. The bookstore may be small, but she was proud to be its owner. More than any other activity, sharing her love of books allowed her to relax and clear her mind. She needed the time and distraction to consider everything Millie said and to get her head back on straight.
Starting an after school program for the local kids had not been planned. It began with one curious girl who’d reminded Tamara of herself. Emily had asked for help picking out a book and they’d started discussing different stories. The next day Emily brought a friend along and word quickly spread around their school. Before long there was a large group gathering at the store each weekday afternoon.
She prayed the cowboys never found out because they’d tease her without mercy. The program was a total contradiction to the woman they knew. Thankfully, Savannah had kept her secret and salvaged the hard-as
s rep she maintained at the ranch. And the guys didn’t go into town often during the week, much less stop by the bookstore, to find out about it on their own.
Being able to provide a safe place for the kids to pass the time between school and their parents getting home from work made her feel like she made a difference in their lives. Everyone took turns bringing snacks and she didn’t charge a fee to be a member of the book club. The service was her way of giving back to the townspeople who’d so readily accepted both Tamara and her store. Besides, what she got in return far outweighed the expenditure of time and resources.
To witness a child’s eyes light up over an intriguing story warmed her heart and provided the sense of accomplishment she’d lacked. The way they looked up to her and asked her opinion filled her with joy. It was cute the way they called her Miss Tamara, too.
Yes, the store and the kids were exactly what she needed.
Nicole Austin Page 3
