Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones 0f Texas Book 6)

by Sasha Summers

  He wasn’t in the kitchen.

  Or the parlor.

  Or the bedroom.

  Was everything okay?

  She was headed back to her room when the bathroom door opened and he stepped out. His thick black hair was wet, like the towel wrapped low around his waist. She did her best not to stare. She’d seen him shirtless before, countless times. And, somehow, the sight never failed to make her desperate with want.

  “I... You okay?” she asked, rattled. “Never mind. Not now.” She stepped back.

  His blue-green gaze pinned hers, on fire for her.

  “I... I...” She closed the distance between them, mindless as she slid her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him—driving him into the wall at his back. She wanted to comfort him, yes. But she also wanted him. So much she ached.

  He caught her, his arms viselike around her.

  His skin was warm beneath her hands. The ball of his shoulders, the clenched thickness of his upper arms, he was strong yet gentle. His breath powered out of him as his mouth sealed against hers. She moaned, her fingers threading through his hair and tightening, holding him close.

  His lips parted, the slide of his tongue against hers making her knees buckle. But his arms were around her, pressing her against him and holding her up.

  Her hands stroked over his chest, her fingers exploring the planes and edges of his sides and stomach. He was all muscle, honed from working hard. His hands, calloused and strong, tugged her shirt from her jeans and slid beneath her shirt. Her skin contracted, every nerve humming with frantic need. She wanted him so much. His hands, his mouth, his body.

  His hand moved up her spine, slipping beneath her bra strap.

  Tandy’s fingers moved quickly, freeing the buttons and shrugging out of her cotton shirt.

  He slid a bra strap from her shoulder and bent to press a kiss to her shoulder. A moan tore from his throat as his hands freed the clasp of her bra.

  “Da-gee, Da-gee,” Pearl sang. “Sing sing Da-gee.”

  Click froze. “No,” he groaned softly, burying his face against her throat.

  She blew out a shaky breath, her body trembling. No was right. She craved this, hungered for him. It had been so long. Her need was all-consuming. His hands brushed down her sides, teasing her tightly strung nerves.

  His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her parted lips.

  She shook her head, his hunger pulling her back in. “Stop.”

  “I can’t,” he said, tracing her lower lip. He leaned forward, his openmouthed kiss too good.

  “Da-gee da-gee Ba-shee,” Pearl sang. “Da da, Da da.”

  Tandy stepped away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and holding her bra in place. “I’ll get her,” she said, staring at his towel. “You might want another shower. A cold one.”

  There was something incredibly satisfying about his state of arousal. He wanted her. Seeing that look on his face, the way he struggled with self-control, was empowering and humbling. “Click?” she whispered.

  “Going,” he said. And with a shake of his head, he headed back into the bathroom. She smiled as the shower came on. Once she was dressed, she opened the bedroom door and smiled at Pearl.

  “Ta-dee, Ta-dee, Ta-dee,” Pearl sang happily. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she answered. “Sleep well, snuggle bunny?” she asked. She scooped her out of her crib, changed her diaper and followed her down the hallway into the parlor.

  “Da da?” Pearl asked.

  “In the shower,” she said, smiling. “Thirsty? Want a drink?”

  Pearl nodded. “Peez.”

  Tandy headed into the kitchen for a sippy cup. The notepad was on the kitchen table, so Tandy carried it back to its place by the phone. But Click’s note made her pause. She swallowed, the bold script making the words ominous.

  A name—Georgia Miles—and a phone number.

  Below it, he’d written Kevin Glenn and a question. Does he handle custody cases?

  * * *

  CLICK WATCHED HIS daughter make the rounds. She’d started with Tandy, chattering away with her and Scarlett. When she took a board book to Evelyn Boone and climbed into her lap, he could tell she’d won the woman over. His daughter called her Ev and kissed her on the cheek, thanking the woman for reading to her. While Click couldn’t help feeling suspicious of the woman, he was willing to reconsider his original assessment—for Pearl.

  Pearl. His daughter. Her sweet, easy nature was impossible to ignore. She was special, something to protect. Something worth fighting for, if it came down to it. His phone call with Georgia had been brief, timed, but it had rocked him to the core. He’d sort of hoped she’d disappeared. Turns out, she was planning to come see them.

  “She’s quite the charmer,” Woodrow Boone said, accepting the coffee Scarlett was handing out. “My grandson Cal is the same. Smart, too—maybe too smart for a boy his age. Boy should get out more, scrape his knees and get his hands dirty now and then.”

  “Dad.” Scarlett frowned. “Be nice.”

  Woodrow took a sip of his coffee and frowned right back at her. “I’m stating a fact. Not being mean.”

  Scarlett shrugged and returned to her spot by Tandy on the floor, one of Pearl’s puzzles spread out on the throw rug. It was almost normal, almost like a family... Except for the way Woodrow Boone had been watching him all night. The older man was sizing him up, plain and simple. The only exception had been when Pearl was involved. Woodrow, like his wife, was smitten with his little daughter.

  “Who does Cal belong to?” he asked, hoping to keep conversation somewhat neutral. Click had spent some time with the rest of Woodrow’s children, but Scarlett was the only one he was close to.

  “Cal is India’s boy. Don’t know if you remember my son Deacon?” He shook his head. “He’s been helping my brother Teddy out a bit, in Stonewall Crossing. He lost his two daughters and his wife. Eighteen-wheeler accident. Damn driver was on drugs.” The grief on the older man’s face was masked quickly. “I keep telling Deacon to move on. Kelsey, his dear departed wife, wouldn’t want him moping and being alone. She was a spitfire, that one.”

  Click couldn’t think of a thing to say to that. Woodrow Boone would probably be a lot like his sister—Tandy’s mother—Susan when it came to doling out advice and support to their kids. But, to give Woodrow some credit, he lacked the bitterness that hardened his sister. Susan Boone was a piece of work, in a class by herself. He didn’t know what made the older woman that way, and he stopped caring when her sour moods and judgmental opinions hurt Tandy. Where Susan was intentional, Woodrow was just clueless. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Woodrow looked at him then, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Part of life, it seems. Losing folks you care about. Your aunt was a good woman.”

  He nodded.

  “Da da?” Pearl said, smiling at him. “Music?”

  “Music?” he asked, glancing Tandy’s way. He loved his daughter, but there was no way he was going to humiliate himself.

  “Peez,” she said, shooting Woodrow Boone a shy smile.

  “Well, now, that’s too pretty a request to deny,” Woodrow said. “Tandy? Go get a guitar and play something for this little sweet pea.”

  “Ta-dee sing,” Pearl said to Woodrow.

  “You like Tandy’s singing?”

  Pearl nodded, her shiny black curls bouncing.

  “Wanna help me, Pearl?” Tandy asked, holding out her hand. Pearl was quick to take it and follow her out.

  “She has the voice of an angel,” Woodrow said.

  “That she does,” Click agreed, realizing his mistake as soon as Woodrow’s smile vanished.

  Luckily, Pearl was gone or the old man would have scared her into hiding. He, on the other hand, stood his ground.

  “I’m doing my best to be cordi
al, boy, seeing as how you lost your kin.” He straightened, lowering his voice. “I talked to my sister this morning. She told me you ran off and left Tandy in the hospital.”

  Click stared at the older man. “That’s what she said?” he asked. He remembered it differently. Tandy had been inconsolable after they’d taken Amelia. And her mother... He swallowed. He hadn’t run off, he’d been told to leave. But Woodrow was right, he had left Tandy when she’d needed him.

  “You saying my sister lied to me?” he asked.

  Click swallowed down his anger. Susan Boone lived to stir the pot then stand back to see what sort of crisis she’d brought to the surface. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. He sucked in a deep breath, doing his best to stay calm. Woodrow Boone’s opinion of him shouldn’t matter. Only Tandy’s. “I’d never leave her. Not by my choosing.”

  Woodrow’s brows rose. “Seems to me you did, deserting her that way. Now leave the poor girl alone. You can’t expect her to move on, with you showing up—bringing an angel along to help charm your way back in.” He shook his head. “According to Susan, you didn’t wait too long before you’d fathered your daughter. Now you’re on your own, needing a hand and a mother for that sweet little thing. She’s not going to turn her back on you, not after what she’s lost. Tandy’s too bighearted to see that you’re using her, but I’m not. Might as well tell me what you’re selling Lynnie’s place for—I’ll take it off your hands and you can be on your way.”

  Click saw red. He’d never use Tandy that way. Never willingly hurt her again. Tandy was bighearted, lonely and vulnerable. He wanted to believe she wanted to be where she was, with him and Pearl. That she wanted them. But the older man’s words kicked up a flare of doubt.

  “Uncle Woodrow?” Tandy had returned, holding Pearl’s hand in one hand and a guitar in the other. He didn’t know how long she’d been standing there or what she’d heard, but it was enough. “What’s going on?”

  Pearl hid behind Tandy, the tension in the room mounting until it was palpable. He didn’t like the fear in his daughter’s eyes.

  “Woodrow?” Evelyn Boone joined her husband, her concern sincere. “We were having such a lovely evening.”

  Click knew the right thing to do. “It was. And I thank you kindly for your hospitality. But it’s time for Pearl and I to head home.” He wasn’t going to cause a scene. He’d leave before things escalated. Tandy hadn’t shared what had happened between them for a reason. He was pretty sure she’d be horrified for it to come out this way.

  “Click?” Tandy’s voice was soft.

  He smiled. “I should go.”

  “No.” Tandy stiffened, her eyes searching his before she faced her uncle. “Click is a good man, Uncle Woodrow. He always has been. I don’t want to know what my mother’s said to you, but I can tell you the truth. If I thought it would change how you felt about him. Or how you treat him.”

  Woodrow huffed, scowling at his niece. “A good man doesn’t leave a woman in a hospital bed.”

  Click scooped up Pearl. “This is a conversation for behind closed doors, Mr. Boone.” He glanced around the room. It was Sunday, so there was no organized activity for the guests. But the Boones ate all their meals in the guest dining room. And right now, gathered around the fireplace in the main living room, there were a handful of guests within earshot.

  “What’s happening?” Evelyn Boone asked.

  “Mom.” Scarlett’s voice was soft as she hooked her arm through her mother’s. “Dad. Click is right. Family business shouldn’t be aired in public.”

  Woodrow’s face turned a dark shade of red, but he didn’t move.

  “I won’t presume to speak for Tandy.” He lowered his voice, moving closer. “But I’m asking you, as an honorable man, to keep what you’ve learned to yourself. It’s not about me—no one in Fort Kyle has ever given a damn about me. The only reason that’s changed now is because Lynnie left me her place.” He paused, watching the play of emotions on the older man’s face. “But Tandy...” He glanced at her. “The more you talk, the more you’ll hurt her. I won’t stand by and let that happen.”

  Woodrow Boone’s gaze swept over him, head to toe. But he didn’t say a word.

  “Da da, go?” Pearl whispered, her little voice shaking. “Ta-dee?”

  “Yep, time to go.” He smiled at his daughter, hugging her. “Ready, snuggle bunny?” He nodded at Evelyn, winked at Scarlett and smiled at Tandy before carrying Pearl from the room. He kept moving, calm and collected, until Pearl was buckled into her car seat. He moved around the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, wishing he could rewind the last five minutes. The mix of anger and frustration, sadness and failure churning in his stomach had him shaking. Not that he could blame Woodrow Boone for thinking ill of him. His sister had probably made him sound like the lowest of the low.

  There were times he wondered if the woman wasn’t right. He wasn’t worthy of Tandy, wasn’t capable of loving a person without hurting them.

  “Da do go?” Pearl chattered from the back seat.

  He stared at his daughter. But, if that was true, he had no business fighting for custody of Pearl—if it came to that. He couldn’t imagine a future without his daughter in it.

  “Waiting on me?” Tandy said, climbing into the passenger seat.

  “Ta-dee?” Pearl called from the back seat.

  “I’m here,” Tandy said. “And I stole Uncle Woodrow’s guitar.” She laughed.

  Click looked at her. “Probably not the best idea.”

  “You withdrawing your earlier offer? A place for Banshee and me to stay?” Her gaze was steady.

  “Bashee,” Pearl added. “Go, Da da.”

  Click sighed. “I don’t want to cause problems between you and your family.”

  “You never have.” She shook her head. “Now let’s go home so we can feed Banshee and sing a couple of songs.”

  “You’re sure?” he asked. “I don’t need help.”

  “I know. This is where I want to be.” She nodded.

  He was breathing easier as he put the truck in gear and eased out of the parking lot.

  “Mew-sik?” Pearl asked. “Sing, Ta-dee.”

  Tandy sang Lynnie’s lullaby, about the pretty little horses, all the way home. He hummed along, wanting to ease some of the evening’s hurt away. Pearl was still singing along when he carried her in the house.

  “Ba-shee,” Pearl greeted the dog, dropping a kiss on his head. “Yum-yum?” she asked.

  Banshee stood, his tail wagging.

  “So he speaks baby talk, too?” Click asked, watching the dog follow Pearl to the pantry, where his dog food had been stored.

  “Like you said, he’s smart.” Tandy smiled up at him. She pressed one hand against his cheek, running the other through his thick hair. “You okay?”

  “Now?” He smiled. This is where I want to be. She had no idea how she made him feel. He leaned forward to whisper, “Right now I’m pretty damn good.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tandy sat on the edge of her bed, working a comb through the tangles and knots in her hair. She stared out the back window, the pitch of night dotted with a million sparkling stars and a sliver of bright white moon. On the horizon she could make out the razor-sharp edge of the distant cliffs and mountains. The seam where sky and land met seemed oddly fitting tonight, jagged and sudden. Her uncle’s words had done the same—abruptly ending a lovely evening with angry, cutting words.

  She’d seen the hurt in Click’s eyes, felt the wound as if it were her own.

  Banshee pushed her knee with his nose and whimpered.

  “What?” she asked. “You don’t want to sleep with me?”

  He looked at her, groaning softly.

  She smiled. “I know, fine.” Banshee stopped sleeping on the bed around six months old. He was too big. Now he preferred
a nice patch of floor, preferably near a window, where he could stretch out and snore. And boy did he snore. “Go on,” she said, opening her bedroom door and watching him trot down the hallway—at the same time Click rounded the corner, carrying a glass of water.

  “Hi,” she said, her heart picking up. Every inch of her responded to the heat in his eyes.

  “Hi.” He stopped, his gaze wandering over her camisole and panties. His jaw clenched tightly, his fingers tightening around the glass he held.

  She smiled. “Coming to bed?”

  One dark eyebrow arched. “Inviting me in?”

  “It was a standing invitation,” she said.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I forgot the baby monitor,” he said, heading back into the kitchen.

  She slid into bed, anticipation igniting in her stomach and spreading like wildfire. Just thinking about their earlier kiss, the touch of his hands and fingers on her skin, had her aching.

  By the time he’d plugged in Pearl’s monitor and turned to look at her, it took all of her self-control not to attack him. Something that got ten times harder when he tugged his skintight white T-shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans. He was gorgeous.

  She tore her gaze from the rock-hard expanse of his chest and abdomen, worrying the quilt between her fingers.

  “I saw your message from Miss Francis,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed. “You up for a trip to Alpine tomorrow?”

  She nodded, too breathless to sound coherent.

  He flipped off the overhead light and lay back on the pillow, his hand taking hers. “Tired?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff.

  She shook her head. Sleep was the last thing on her mind.

  “Tandy?”

  She sat up, turned on the bedside lamp and stared at him. “I’m not tired.” Her voice shook.

  His blue eyes blazed into hers.

  She hesitated, overwhelmed with need. It helped that he felt the same. That his hands gripped the quilt and his chest rose and fell too quickly. She closed the distance between them as she climbed on top of him, straddling him. His eyes widened, the muscle in his jaw clenched, as she leaned forward to press her curves against the angles of his chest.