The Bounty Hunter's Heart

by Jillian Hart

"I noticed you don't use your upstairs rooms. What do you have up there?" He looked up from the leather pack, stuffed full of food and staples to get him by. Bread and sliced ham, jerky and dried fruit, walnuts and cookies. That was just the start. He let the leather flap fall down and gave the strap a tug through the buckle. Emotion left him unable to do more than blink hard.

  "Just a few things stored. I'm glad to have the extra space now up there. Jack could pick one of the rooms for his bedroom up there, if he would like. There's always the guest room, too, but upstairs has a big playroom, which might be nice for him." Her voice followed him as he disappeared into the shadows between rooms. "Where are you going? To go check on them and leave me behind?"

  "I wanted to get a good look at those rooms upstairs." He stayed posed in the shadows, broad back straight, wide shoulders set, hands on his hips, showing off his muscled arms. What a figure he made, backlit by the parlor lamps and flickering fire in the hearth. "Are you happy renting here?"

  "Yes. It's good for my budget, and I love it here. The only downside is that it's almost a quarter of a mile from here to Aunt Peg and Uncle Stan's house, and, as you can see, it can be dangerous for them to visit in the winter. It's not close enough to them."

  "That sounds like the only downside of living here."

  "And a big one, but I'm still hoping I can buy this place. Uncle Stan knows the man who owns it very well. He got me a very good deal on rent."

  "You must be very happy here. It's snug and well-built."

  "And roomy with so many windows! I fell in love at first sight. Why are you asking?"

  "Just wondering. You should buy this place because you want to, and because I want a real home for Jack." He turned around and strolled back to her as he reached into his shirt pocket. He pulled out an envelope, wrinkled and snow-dried and stained, just paper, and very thick but no bigger than a regular mailing envelope. "This is for you."

  "I've seen that before." She sighed, not surprised by the suddenness of the grave cast to his face and the terseness of his baritone. This was important. "What's in the envelope looks like a lot of money. You've already discussed this, kind man."

  "Yes, and this is enough money to buy this place for Jack with plenty leftover to support him all the way through high school graduation and then some. You shouldn't have to afford him, and where I'm going, I can't take my savings account balance with me. I've explained that."

  She gasped as he laid the envelope in her hands, she could clearly see the corners of a four inches thick wad of hundred dollar bills. She hadn't been prepared for that. "There are thousands in here, maybe ten thousand dollars?"

  "More, and it's all legally earned, and it's yours."

  "I suppose being a bounty hunter pays well?"

  "It can, and I'm good at it. That's why I've got troubles." He tugged the cold hard cash out of her grasp, tucked the flap of the envelope in place and pressed it back into her hands. "Being as you're taking on raising my child, who better to have this money? Be sure and have Stan negotiate a good price for you, and buy this place for you, for the boy and for Pete. Do it for me, please, and be sure and bank the rest. Get what you need and for him, too."

  "I've told you, I just can't take this. I never expected you to try to pay me." She shook her head, bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth, pearl white against petal pink, and gave a frustrated sigh. "This isn't what I want. It doesn't feel right. It's your money, you should keep it, just like your boy."

  "If I can't have him, then who better to have the money to raise him, the treasure who matters most to me. So, you will take it this time, as I am not going to accept 'no' ever in the end. So, you have to say yes."

  It was hard to know what to say about that. He didn't seem to have an answer either, or one he wanted to say. The frigid cold from outside still seemed to cling to him, lingering on his clothes and on his skin like invisible ice, cooling the air between them. The angles of his face and the tilt of his iron-strong chin and jaw were familiar now, and cherished enough that her hand itched to reach up and lay against its length, skin to skin, and feel the manly texture of his day's growth against her palm.

  But she hesitated, not sure if he wanted her to bridge the space between them. Her body felt alive with awareness of him, and his gaze was dark, avoiding hers. Overhead, a board squeaked and a faint, thudding sound told her someone was bounding across the floor in the rooms above. She rolled her eyes upward. "I think that sounds like happy little boy feet."

  "Definitely. I recognize those footsteps. Jack won't be himself and happy for a long time, I reckon, after I'm gone, but I think he's got a good chance here of being content and loved. I need him loved and happy, that's the outcome I want for him. To be a good, man. That's who I've been raising. It's what I've been trying to give him."

  "I will be good to your little man." She paused, unable to say more, as the faint drum, slower and much heavier padded in the room above. Must be Uncle Stan. "I wonder what they are up to. Maybe looking around, maybe making plans on how to use the rooms?"

  "Likely I'll be moving some of those extra mattresses upstairs."

  "I have more stowed and stacked in the closet just incase everyone gets stranded during a blizzard, so you can have your choice in mattresses."

  "Good, at least everyone here will be comfortable. I can get started on that. I'm thinking Jack might like the room above the fireplace. Those stones radiate heat for a long time, and it's a warm place for him in winter. I can make myself useful while I'm here."

  "Useful? You are far more valuable than that, fine man. I wish there was a way you could stay here and hide with your son."

  He said nothing, his gaze softening as if her words mattered to him. The shadows seemed to swallow him as the winds outside slammed hard against the side of the house, making the flames on the lamp wicks blow down and the stove pipe and hearth dampers rattle, and in that brief span of time until the flames on their wicks returned to normal, he was only a shadow like a ghost beside her. "Hide out? It's impossible, but it's what I want."

  "Maybe all you need is someone to help you." She stared down at the envelope gripped in both hands, so very much money it made her heart skip beats. She would keep it for him. "I can help you, and my family already adores you. They won't want to let you go now that they've met you, and what about Jack? What about me?"

  "Are you trying to kill me?" He could feel the steely iron bars back up on the job guarding his heart bend and rend, making his heart break so hard, it didn't seem able to beat. He took in a slow breath to attempt to stifle the pain. "I have to leave. It's the only way to keep Jack and now you and your family safe. I never meant to involve you, or them at all, I only meant to drop by, leave him and depart. Slip away, leave a hard trail as far from him as I can do. That's still my plan. It can't change. His life is everything to me and so is yours, now, most especially."

  "Maybe if the bad outlaws ride away, never knowing you're here, then you're safe. And with a different name, why, I don't see why you can't do that. You're not trying to hurt anyone, only to survive and protect everybody else. You were once a lawman, and a bounty hunter still. It isn't fair what you've been through. This could solve it and fix it. I mean, you wouldn't have to be involved with me if you didn't want to, I could just be a friend, I guess."

  "This isn't friendship I feel for you, and you should know that." His strong hand cupped the side of her face with surprising tenderness. "You tempt me, but I'm not that lucky. I've never been able to count on luck."

  "You've got to start somewhere. Maybe then you can count on me."

  "I already am." He fell silent, and the moment felt huge. "I'm leaving my child with you. That's a lot of trust."

  "Then don't stop now."

  "It's more than tempting. You have no idea what I'm feeling right now and all for you, only for you, beautiful Saydee. You are much different from what I remember, and I love how you've grown up. You've had an effect me, and I never thought it could happen,
but it's like hardship and life has unwound itself and I'm feeling like the man I used to be."

  "Who's that?"

  "Hopeful." His touch became a caress so gentle, it brought tears to her eyes. His mouth hovered over hers, and in the silence between one heartbeat and the next, he slanted his lips to hers and leaned in to kiss her. Pleasure burned through her, and his hand curved around the back of her neck to hold her mouth to his.

  He tasted warm and intriguing like a dark winter night, and she felt something thrilling, something she couldn't name or describe, but it spiraled through her like rapture, spilled into her blood, and left her trembling and too weak to protest. His mouth devoured hers, his lips both claiming and possessive and perfect, just perfect. When she opened up to the insistent heat of his tongue, he hauled her into his arms and pressed her along the strength of his body.

  A loud thud drummed overhead and echoed in the parlor, interrupting their kiss. He lifted his mouth from hers, his dark eyes hazed with desire and need, just like his rock-hard body, and she regretted the way he let her go and tilted his head to listen if someone was coming. He was loathe to let go, too.

  30

  Another footfall drummed overhead, making it clear. No one was coming down the stairs, so, whew, they were still alone like two lovers in the night, stealing a moment of tenderness. He rolled his gaze upward too, listening to the faint rumble of a man's voice turn into a warm, easy-going chuckle. "Sounds like it's going pretty good up there."

  "I wonder if they are choosing rooms or just running around up there," she answered.

  "As long as they stay up there, that's what matters to me right now." He tugged at her collar's button, loosening it and exposing her throat to the brush of his lips. "This might not be suitable for young eyes."

  "Or for my relatives," she added. "They might not approve. Or, come to think of it, maybe they would be delighted for me."

  "I can't seem to stop myself." His lips nibbled along the line of her neck, slow as molasses, as sweet as a dream.

  "Nor can I." She melted as his hands caressed down the length of her arms, slow and sensual, feather light. Her entire body flamed as if they were skin to skin.

  "What are we going to do about this?" he murmured against the hollow of her throat, where the hot moist kiss of his lips made her shiver and heat gather.

  "I don't know. We shouldn't keep going, but, oh, don't stop." She sighed as he pressed her harder against him once again, and she felt the thick ridge of his arousal rock-hard against her stomach.

  "As you wish, my lady," he whispered against her exposed skin, and excitement seared through her with such force, she melted from the inside out. She gasped as more of her buttons gave way and warm, dry air skidded across her sensitive skin. Her nipples tightened into hard buds, and she broke out in tiny goose bumps. Winn surprised her by lifting his mouth from her throat and instead of kissing her on the lips he pressed his forehead lightly to hers. They were eye to eye, falling into each other, breathing the same air, their breaths mingling.

  The heat of his palms chased away every goose bump. Her nipples remained taut and pebbled as he cupped her breast through her clothes and gently squeezed, kneaded and caressed. Pleasure spiraled through her and felt like liquid heat. She was hot and trembling everywhere, and the very center of her felt hot and expectant. She went up on tiptoe to catch his mouth in a kiss as urgent as his caress. His lips stroked hers slow and deep, sweet and satisfying. She smiled when he broke away and even in the light the shadows in his eyes were too hard to read, what lurked there he attempted to hide, as he tilted his head again, angling one ear toward the parlor, silent as he listened for the sound of approaching footsteps.

  But he didn't need to say a single word. She felt what it in his heart, and she splayed her hand across his sternum, feeling his heart beat beneath her palm as wildly as her own. He breathed fast and shallow, and when she shifted against him, he groaned, iron-hard.

  "Oh, no, you're not getting away from me, not yet. They're all still upstairs, and we're alone for now." He swept her back against his chest, holding her pleasantly captive easily with the power in one arm, and even though her feet never left the floor, she felt sure she was floating. His lips grazed hers temptingly. "Let's make the most of it."

  "How can I argue with that?" she answered, her smile cut short by the brush of his lips.

  "You, beautiful lady, are a dream to me, one I never expect to come true." He slanted his mouth to hers and kissed her with a perfect blend of tenderness and heat.

  How on earth was she going to keep from falling any more in love with him? Before she could contemplate it, footsteps thudded on the stairs in the parlor, and the cheerful sound of it echoed through the house. With regret, Winn sighed, pulling away and it was too take to grab him back. Their moment, so rare, had passed and would be no more.

  "There you are, Winn, so you made it in from stabling the horse after all."

  "Glad to see you decided to turn back and weather out the storm here, Stan." Winn greeted the older man with a nod. "Sounds like you were having a good time up there."

  "We were. I was trying to help Jack decide which room he wanted to put his bed in. It's important, and I've got time on my hands so I can build a bedstead for him, not hard at all. I've got all afternoon."

  "It will go easier with my help," Winn offered.

  A soft chortle, warm and loving, rose from the center of the parlor, where the women had stopped to warm themselves at the hearth. Peg called out, full of joy and good nature, "Don't give him any ideas, young man. Or I'll have to listen to hammering echoing and banging and clattering and clanging, why, and I'd hoped for at least some piece and quiet getting stranded here with Saydee. But no, no such luck. I'm bound to suffer."

  "It's an outrage, Ma," Nola gently added, laughing. "Why ever must Pa attempt to make things out of wood? Remember last night, the whittling turned into a new drawer for the buffet in the kitchen. Oh, we couldn't hardly read for the constant cacophony he made. My head is still ringing."

  "And my ears!" Peg teased. "Quick, I'll just sit on him and you use my scarf to tie his hands together. We will hobble him to the table leg and leave him under the tablecloth. No one will see him there and we will be all the quieter for it."

  Stan rolled his eyes, planted his hands on his hips and shook his head. "See what I have to put up with? My wife and daughter stand against my love of woodworking. They will not help me with my dream."

  "D-dream?" Saydee sputtered weakly.

  "That ceiling is not as soundproof as you might think." The older man didn't hide the twinkle in his eyes. "There's a crack you should know about, one that an enterprising person can squat down at, line his eye up with the hole and look right through to see all sorts of shenanigans going on down here by the kitchen table. Mark my words, it was very illuminating."

  "Entertaining," Aunt Peg added.

  "It's true," Nola chimed in.

  He watched Saydee blush bright red, adorably so, and his heart kicked tenderly against his will. He stared down at his toes, embarrassed by the moment when he'd thought they were alone and confessed she was his new dream in life, and Stan knew it. He'd witnessed the moment. Who knew what the older man thought of him, but it was too late to go back in time now. The die was thrown, and all his chips were on the table.

  "Now you can't deny the truth any longer, young whippersnapper." Stan sauntered up to the counter and lifted the lid off the cookie jar. He helped himself to a cookie. "You and my sweet niece have formed quite the attachment. I'm thinking you should tie the knot a little sooner than you're likely expecting, what with you being forced to stay here because of the storm. And don't think I don't suspect you were staying here anyway."

  "The first blizzard trapped him here unexpectedly," Saydee spoke up. "Please don't think the worst of him or me, Uncle Stan."

  "How could I, what all the sweet-talking and romancing going on down here. I didn't know it was wrong to leave the two of you alone
."

  "That's on me, Stan, I'm responsible." Winn shrugged. "I always do the right thing."

  "You sure look like you do. I don't doubt it for a minute." Stan bit into his cookie and replaced the lid with a clink.

  Winn tried not to give in to the suffocating sorrow that threatened to drown him. He was too troubled by it to pay attention to the background conversation of the woman speaking with Jack at the hearth, bantering away cheerful and bright, making the house all the lighter for it, but not his feelings.

  "I know you'll do right by our lovely Saydee." Stan took another bite of his cookie. "It's a good thing to get yourself a wife who can cook and bake. These are fine cookies, Saydee, as tasty and soft as could be. Is this giving you any ideas, Winn, maybe a small bit of a clue?"

  He chuckled, really liking the easy-going family man who was doing right by Saydee. "I can't say that I've ever found anyone who can make a cookie like Saydee. It's a rare thing to find."

  "Good, I'm glad you're sensible. Then again, you've been married before so the second time isn't quite so daunting."

  "Or foolhardy," Winn quipped.

  "True," Stan chuckled. "Marriage for a man is truly so. You're smart, Winn."

  Saydee blushed harder, looking even more chagrined, but he was glad Stan knew his feelings. He wanted the older man, who was easy to respect, to see that no one was using Saydee. That he felt the world for her, could never be consoled that he lost out on a future with her and how he would have wanted it.

  "Not smart," Winn corrected, "just experienced. I've done this before so I know what to expect."

  "Disaster," Stan joked. "Or worse. We're misguided, that's the only reason we marry at all. Blinded by love and made a fool by it. And I still am, after all these years."

  "You look fully happy for having done it," Winn wasn't fooled. "Deeply happy."

  "It's all an act. Or Peg beats me."

  "It's true!" came an amused voice from the parlor. "I've got a rolling pin and I know how to use it."