Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones 0f Texas Book 6)

by Sasha Summers

  Chapter Twelve

  Tandy woke with a terrible headache. Not just her head, but her eyes and throat. She stared up at the ceiling overhead, but it was too dark to make much out. She rolled over, staring at the massive window with the white lace curtains. From the thick black sky outside, Tandy knew she’d slept the day away. And now, she was wide awake.

  It had been a long time since Tandy had felt this alert. She was exhausted, her body drained to the point of inertia, but she was awake. The numbness she’d been clinging to was gone. Every nerve felt exposed, raw and hyperaware.

  She ran a hand over her face and pushed off the bed.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d skipped lunch to avoid more chitchat with her uncle. She didn’t know how her cousins put up with him. She’d yet to make it through a meal when a simple conversation hadn’t unleashed some sort of booming diatribe from the great Woodrow Boone. His opinion, of course, was always the right one. So attempting to challenge or question his topic of conversation or opinion only increased the likelihood they’d talk about whatever it was for even longer. Tandy had given up after her first dinner there.

  Would her uncle be railing about her absence at the dinner table?

  Click wouldn’t mind her raiding his fridge.

  The door creaked on its hinges. Tandy waited, but no one came down the hall so she slipped out. Banshee was sprawled across the parlor, snoring softly.

  Click had left a light on in the kitchen, so she could see easily.

  The first thing she saw was Click, sound asleep in the rocking chair.

  She stared at him, frozen in place. He wore work-worn jeans and a white undershirt that clung to every ridge and curve of his chest. All brawn and muscle and beauty. She smiled at the ink that peeked out from under the left sleeve.

  She’d wanted to believe the doctor, wanted to believe she hadn’t done something to cause Amelia’s death. But her mother said he was being kind, to ease her guilt. And she had felt guilty, so damn guilty. Thinking of Amelia was too hard. She had no right to tears or sorrow when it was her fault. It was Toben who rescued her from their mother, dragging her with him before the crush of guilt had almost killed her. No matter how hard he tried to get through to her, Tandy refused to hear him. It hurt too much to grieve, to face what she’d done.

  Click’s words cut her loose the way no one else could. Amelia had been his, too. The pain was there, but it was different now. It would take time to accept it was okay to miss her, to grieve for her, and not blame herself. That hadn’t been an option before. Whether her mother realized the damage her words had done to her, Tandy did—now.

  As much as it had hurt to see Pearl, to know what it meant he’d done, she couldn’t hold it against him. He’d been just as lost as she was—searching for some way to find a purpose. And they had Pearl now. Sweet, happy Pearl.

  So much pain. So much time lost.

  The only hurt she couldn’t quite make peace with was the hurt she’d caused Click.

  “Tandy?” His voice was a low rumble, thick with sleep.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her stomach growled loudly, rousing Banshee from his place on the floor.

  “Hungry?” Click chuckled.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked, still whispering. Her stomach roared again.

  He pointed at her. “When did you eat last?”

  She shrugged. “I had some toast this morning.” She searched the walls for some sign of a clock. “What time is it?”

  “Almost midnight,” he said, pushing out the rocking chair.

  She stared up at him, his face shadowed. “You go on to bed—”

  “Why are we whispering?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Habit?” She looked down the hallway. “Lynnie never liked us up after she went to bed.”

  He grinned. “She did not. I think she knew what we were up to.”

  Tandy’s body tingled. “You do?” How many hot summer nights had she and Click slipped from their rooms—she from her uncle’s place and he from Lynnie’s. They’d meet up, toting flashlights and wearing pajamas and boots. In the beginning it had been innocent. Long walks under the starry sky and holding hands with sweaty palms. But that last summer, she and Click started a fire that burned hot for years.

  “I do,” he said, so close his breath brushed her forehead. “She said we were a good match. Two broken birds that, together, flew straight.”

  Tandy wished the lights were on then, so she could see his face and search his eyes. Her stomach growled again.

  Click chuckled. “Let’s get something in that belly of yours before you wake Pearl up.”

  She followed Click into the kitchen, blinking against the sudden light from the overhead fan.

  “What did you eat?” she asked, pulling open the refrigerator and peering inside. “Is this all you have?”

  “I don’t cook much. Pearl still eats mostly baby food and fruit.” He ran a hand over his face.

  She pulled the basket of eggs out. “Is this ham safe?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Ham and eggs it is,” she said. She cooked, comfortable in Lynnie’s kitchen, while Click set the table. They didn’t say much, but it wasn’t awkward. It was natural. She put ham, eggs and toast on two plates and carried them to the table.

  “Looks good,” he said, digging in.

  She watched him, smiling as he cleaned his plate with enthusiasm. “I guess I wasn’t the only hungry one?”

  He grinned. It was one hell of a grin, all dimples and yummy creases.

  She cleared her throat. “Why weren’t you sleeping in your bed?” she asked between bites.

  “Thought you might get up,” he said, leaning back in his chair, one long leg extending out from under the table.

  Sitting here just the two of them, it was hard to miss just how much space he filled. Or maybe it only felt that way. The longer those blue eyes watched her, the smaller the room became. And hotter. She was growing warmer by the minute. “You waited up for me?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  “You knew I’d cook you something,” she teased, needing to ease the mounting tension between them.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Seems like every time we’re alone together I make you cry.” His fingers tapped the linoleum tabletop. “I’m sorry.”

  She set her fork down, searching for the right words. “Momma said crying’s weak. But it turned out she said a lot of things that were wrong. I was too fragile to see it. It took hearing the truth from someone who’s never lied to me to make me realize that.” She sat forward, reaching across the table for his hand. “Don’t be sorry for today. Please.”

  He nodded, the muscle in his jaw working.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said. “I pushed you away when you were hurting, too.”

  He stood, tugging her from her chair. “I should have dug in and stayed.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, Click. You’ve always done what I wanted, what you thought would make me happy. Even then,” she finished. Her heart, just as awake as the rest of her, thumped heavily in her chest. She was done asking why he had this effect on her. Their connection was just as unwavering as it had always been. She craved him—craved the way he made her feel.

  “What would make you happy now, Tandy?” The words were gruff and raw, resonating up her spine.

  She stood on tiptoe, holding on to his shoulders for balance, and pressed her lips to his.

  * * *

  HER LIPS FELT like heaven. Gentle, slow, tentative, her kiss bowled him over. It was the last thing he’d expected. Wanted, yes, more than anything. But now? She’d cried for more than an hour, so worn out she’d passed out cold against him.

  He wanted to believe that this was about them, about her needing and wanting him. “Tandy.” He
placed a hand, lightly, on her chest. “Are you kissing me because you want to kiss me? Or because you’re lonely and you know I won’t say no?”

  “I’ve never separated one from the other,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I’m lonely because I’ve been missing you.” Her eyes searched his. “Yes, I want to kiss you. If...if you want—”

  He groaned, his mouth sealing to hers with a hunger that startled him. There was no if when it came to wanting Tandy. He’d wake from dreams, remembering her scent and the silk of her curves, and damn near rip his pillow apart. She was real, in his arms, offering her lips to him. If this was what she wanted, he’d happily oblige. It had been too long since he’d tasted her.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair. She arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, soft and full. He groaned, his hands sliding down her back—then up. He wanted to hold her to him, he wanted to touch every inch.

  The tip of her tongue touched his, and he all but slid to the floor. His hands fisted in the fabric of her top as his tongue delved into the warmth of her mouth.

  It was her turn to moan. Damn but he loved the sound of it. Even after all this time, he did this to her. His lips moved over hers, each kiss more frantic than the last. When one stopped and the next began, he didn’t know.

  He was vaguely aware of Pearl, the squeak and rustle over the baby monitor. Some nights she woke, fussing and fretful, until he soothed her back to sleep. But if she got too worked up, he’d be pacing the floor with her for hours.

  “Pearl,” he said, tearing his lips from hers.

  “I’ll go,” she answered, her breath labored. “Maybe she’ll drift off with a song.”

  He pressed a kiss to her nose. “All you.”

  She smiled up at him, her fingers stroking his mouth before she left him standing in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Shh, pretty Pearl.” Tandy’s voice came through the monitor. “Sleep sweet little one,” she murmured. She hummed softly, the raspy timbre holding him captive. He closed his eyes, listening as she sang the only lullaby Lynnie knew.

  “Baby, Baby, don’t you cry

  Hush and hear my lullaby

  Rest your head and close your eyes

  Let me rock you into dreams

  Baby, Baby, don’t you cry

  Hush and hear my lullaby.”

  Click smiled, quietly carrying the dishes to the sink while Tandy sang the lullaby again. He was humming, too, warmed by the love and safety those lines stirred within him. He’d have to remember it next time, in case Tandy wasn’t here to sing for Pearl.

  He was still humming when he finished washing the skillet Tandy had used to cook their dinner. He wiped his hands on the kitchen towel and turned to find Tandy in the doorway, watching him.

  “You have a nice voice,” she said.

  “Not as nice as yours,” he argued, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Thanks for that. She seems more comfortable with you than she is with me.”

  She shook her head. “You feel calmer when she’s with me.” She smiled. “Babies sense that.”

  She was right. He was still uncertain with Pearl. Every day was a little easier, but being a father was hardly second nature. Yet. “I’m trying.”

  “I know. She knows. It’s plain to see she loves you.”

  “I love her,” he murmured. When or how it happened, he wasn’t sure. It could have been the first time she’d turned those big eyes on him and smiled. It could have been her giggle. Or the way she said Da da. Maybe it was the combination of all bits and pieces of the time they’d spent together. He loved his baby girl more than he’d imagined was possible. “Even if I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Tired?” she asked, her gaze lingering on his face—and his lips.

  He stared at her, the feel of her lips still singeing his.

  “You should get some sleep,” she said.

  He arched a brow. She kept looking at him like that and he’d never get any sleep. “You going to bed?” It was probably for the best. His hunger for her was powerful. Kissing was one thing.

  She stared at him, swallowing before she said, “Are we?”

  Her voice was soft, but he heard the “we” easily enough. He blew out a slow breath, her words all too appealing. There was no denying he wanted her. But not yet. “Tandy—”

  “To sleep. Next to you.” Her cheeks flamed red. “Just sleep. Or not. I... I can go to my room.” She all but ran from the kitchen.

  Click stayed where he was, gripping the kitchen counter, staring at the empty doorway, telling himself over and over that he wouldn’t follow her. Today had changed things between them; he felt it deep down. But that didn’t mean he was going to hop in her bed and love her the way he’d spent so many damn nights thinking about.

  He bit out a curse and turned off all the lights before heading to the bathroom. He paused, glancing at her door, then closed the bathroom door behind him. His evening routine was the same: shower, brush his teeth, tug on boxer shorts and head to the room he shared with Pearl. But once he was lying there, his brain refused to turn off. She was on the other side of the wall, wanting him at her side. To sleep. Nothing more. How the hell was he going to sleep? He rolled over, punched the pillow into shape then turned the other way. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. I’m a damn fool.

  He peered into Pearl’s bed, pulling the blanket up, and stood.

  He went into the kitchen, unplugged Pearl’s monitor and headed into Tandy’s room. She was reading, the bedside lamp on, but she didn’t say a word as he swept into her room and plugged in the monitor. He looked at her then, stunned by the smile on her face.

  He shook his head, completely whipped.

  She closed the book and set it on the bedside table, flipping back the blankets on his side of the bed in invitation.

  He hesitated, torn between the right thing and giving her what she wanted. She patted the mattress once, and he caved. The sight of one creamy thigh had him biting back a groan. “What are you wearing?” he growled, sliding between the sheets and lying back against the pillows. His body was rock hard and throbbing. He was beginning to rethink this.

  “Enough,” she said, sliding close enough to rest her head on his chest. “I like your boxers.”

  He chuckled and turned off the light. “Wore them just for you,” he teased.

  She sighed, burrowing closer, the silk of her hair draping across his shoulder. He closed his eyes, wrapping an arm around her. His hand rested on her hip, the edge of her lace-trimmed undies forcing him to move his hand up. But the feel of her satin-soft skin wasn’t much better. He flexed his hand, his body more than willing to take things further. She wriggled closer, fitting her curves tightly against him, before easing into sleep. He wouldn’t have it any other way. It was torture, but he’d suffer through it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tandy measured out the pancake mix and dumped it into the bowl. She smiled at Pearl, sitting among a pile of plastic bowls on the floor, and started whisking the ingredients together. She’d woken up to Pearl’s sweet gibber-jabber over the monitor. As hard as it was to leave Click sleeping, she figured he could use a break.

  Pearl’s delighted “Ta-dee” had been the best good-morning she’d ever heard. All through her diaper change, Pearl had babbled and smiled with such happiness that Tandy had no choice but to be cheerful, too.

  That was exactly how she felt. “Cheerful,” she said to Pearl. “You wanna help me cook, Pearl?”

  Pearl smiled up at her and whacked one of the plastic bowls with the rubber spatula Tandy had given her. She giggled at the sound it made, repeating it again and again.

  “Like that?” Tandy said, giggling right along with her.

  Coffee was brewing. Click liked his black. She preferred a little milk and sugar, but they were both running low.

 
“Once we’re done cooking, we need to go shopping,” Tandy said. “The cupboard’s almost empty.”

  There was plenty of baby food, but not much else. Pearl might do just fine on mashed sweet potatoes and ham, strained peas and blended beef. But Click needed something a little less...pureed.

  “Go go go,” Pearl chanted.

  “Yes, we can go together,” she said, glad it was Sunday. “No work for me.” She peered out the window at the yard. Banshee sat, regarding the herd of goats. “We’ll need to get Banshee something to eat, too.” If she could get Click’s help, she wanted to sift through the cabin’s wreckage and see what might be rescued.

  She poured some batter on the griddle, the sizzle telling her it was just the right temperature. Her stomach growled.

  “Yum-yum?” Pearl asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Cooking some yum-yum for you and me and Daddy. Then we’ll go see what we can find,” she told Pearl, glancing at her cabin again. If she were lucky, she might find some clothes. And her favorite pair of boots. Poor Banshee loved his bed. If the wind hadn’t carried them away, maybe she could bring them here. If this was where she was planning on staying. With Pearl. And Click.

  She stared at the pancake batter, the edges searing golden brown.

  This morning, the sun had spilled into her bedroom and she’d stayed perfectly still. Not because of the sunrise or the majestic view out her window. No, it was because Click held her. His hand rested against her belly, his long fingers splayed wide. His head rested by hers, his steady breathing brushing her ear. There was no room between his chest and her back. He’d pulled her tight and pinned her close. Exactly where she’d wanted to be.

  If Pearl hadn’t stirred, she’d still be there.

  “Mew-sik, Ta-dee?” Pearl asked.

  “You want to sing?” she asked. “After I finish cooking, I’ll show you my guitar—” But her guitar was in the cabin. “I’ll play the piano for you.” She scooped the pancakes off the griddle and poured four more on.

  “Sing?” Pearl asked, humming. “Peez?”