Cowboy On Her Doorstep (Montgomery Brothers Book 1)

by Pam Mantovani

  “You okay?”

  Kendall blinked, realized Logan stood close, staring at her. “Just a little tired, I guess.” She sharpened her tone a little. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  He leaned down toward her, close enough that he had only to make the slightest move to brush his mouth against hers.

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “Don’t what?”

  She swallowed. Inside, her body might be yearning for him, but her voice, while low, was adamant. “Don’t think that because you’ve found out about Marissa, I’ll invite you into my bed.”

  “When I come into your bed,” he countered, his gaze lowering to her mouth before lifting to stare at her. “It’s not going to have anything to do with Marissa.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Logan. Everything I do, every decision I make, has to do with her.” She stepped around him and held out a hand. “Marissa, you want to help me get the plates?”

  LOGAN WATCHED the two of them walk away and wondered what the hell had gotten into him. Hadn’t he admitted, just this morning, how he’d rarely thought of Kendall in any way other than as a friend? Yet here he was making a play for her when what he should be concentrating on was finding a way to make his daughter like him.

  When Kendall and Marissa returned from the kitchen, Logan opened the box and inhaled the fragrant scent. “It’s been quite a while since I had pizza.”

  From where she’d been spreading a sheet over the floor, Kendall stilled and looked at him, the brown of her eyes warming. “I’m really glad you’re home safe, Logan,” she finally quietly admitted.

  “Me, too,” he answered.

  For a moment, they continued to look at one another, and he felt that stirring he’d never expected. It wasn’t totally sexual, although he had to admit a surprising need for her kept building within him. Mostly, he wanted back the friendship they’d once shared. He’d missed the ease of talking, confiding dreams and wishes—the luxury of freedom that came with being with someone who accepted you, often in spite of your faults. And, really, wasn’t that what he wanted with Marissa also? To be accepted for himself and not simply because he was her father?

  Kendall scooped a slice of pizza onto a paper plate and passed it to Marissa before opening a can and pouring half the contents into a lidded plastic cup. “I have some beer in the refrigerator if you’d rather.”

  “Isn’t she a little young?”

  Kendall swung her head around in his direction, the protest dying on her lips as they curved in recognition of his attempt at lightening the mood.

  “I’m fine,” he said and popped open his can. After a long swallow, he glanced at Marissa. “Hey, how can you be my . . . uh, a cowgirl if you don’t eat the pepperoni on your pizza?”

  She placed the circles of meat neatly aligned around the perimeter of her plate. “It bites my tongue.”

  “More for me then.” He nipped a circle off her plate and tossed it in his mouth.

  “You’re ’pose to ask first.”

  Logan looked from Marissa to Kendall, who, although her lips twitched, kept her voice even. “We’ve been working on our manners.”

  “You’re right, Marissa. I should ask first.” But before he could, she nudged her plate toward him in an unspoken invitation. “Thank you.”

  “So,” Kendall said. “How are you spending your time while you’re home?”

  “Today I helped Carter move some of the cattle to another pasture.”

  “The two of you worked together, and you’re not bloodied or bruised?”

  “It was good.” He winked at Marissa as he snatched up three more slices of her pepperoni. “Or at least until I see how my muscles feel tomorrow after being on a horse for the first time in five years.”

  “I let you eat my biting stuff, so now you have to let me ride a horse.”

  “Marissa Anne,” Kendall scolded. “You don’t give someone something and then demand something back.”

  “Why not?”

  “No, she’s right. She . . .” Logan’s grin died as the impact of Kendall’s exclamation hit him square in the chest. With his throat suddenly dry he dropped his half-eaten slice onto the plate. “Ann,” he repeated, looking from Marissa to Kendall. “You named her Ann?”

  “It’s Anne with an ‘e,’ not without like your mother.” Kendall pressed her lips together as she stroked a hand over her daughter’s curls. “Your mother was always so nice to me that I wanted to honor her without giving Marissa her exact name.”

  Logan stared at her as he processed this revelation. “Thank you.” He worked the lump down his throat. “She’d have liked that.” He looked at Marissa, tried to smile. “My mother would have loved you.”

  “Does your mamma live with you and the horses?”

  “No.” The pain whipped at him, surprising in that he thought he’d put it aside years ago.

  “Logan’s mommy was sick,” Kendall said when he didn’t speak. “She’s in heaven with your grandmother and grandfather.”

  “Where’s his daddy?”

  Kendall stiffened a little. “He’s in heaven too.”

  “My daddy doesn’t live with us.” Marissa looked from her plate up to her mother, sudden tears in her eyes. “Did he go away ’cause I did something wrong?”

  The little Logan had eaten turned rock-hard in his stomach. It was the tears, added to the complete misery in Marissa’s voice that urged him to ignore Kendall’s insistence and do something. He opened his mouth to tell Marissa that she would always have his love, no matter what she did or didn’t do. He could tell her he didn’t care about what she ate or if she picked up her toys, that such things were minor and didn’t matter, that behavior didn’t change or alter a parent’s love. But would a four-year-old listen to the words from a virtual stranger? After all, even as a teenager he hadn’t believed his mother’s claims that his father loved him.

  “Oh, baby, no. You did nothing wrong.” Kendall scooped the little girl onto her lap, rocked. Over the hair she stroked, she stared at Logan.

  He wasn’t sure if the plea he saw in her gaze was for help in this situation, or for his understanding that this is what it had been like for her the last five years. Whatever her purpose, it stopped any thoughts he had about telling Marissa the truth. He saw now what he hadn’t allowed himself to notice earlier.

  Dark smudges of fatigue dulled the chocolate of Kendall’s eyes. He had a sudden respect for everything she’d dealt with as a single parent—the good, the bad, the everyday, the special, the emotional as well as the physical needs of a young child—all of this on top of pursuing her dream of becoming a Deputy Sheriff.

  There had to have been moments of love and joy, but also hours, days, weeks, and months of worry, stress, and endless work. He couldn’t comprehend the strength of character it had taken, not to mention the leap of faith, to keep and nurture a child on her own, knowing she would bear the brunt of speculation and gossip. How had she done it day in and day out without any help or support?

  Or had she? From what little she’d told him, he knew she’d worked and saved before Marissa’s birth, knew she’d forsaken pride and taken whatever assistance would help her care for the baby. Since coming back to Burton Springs, her friend, Audra, babysat Marissa when Kendall worked. From all appearances, Kendall’s time was split between work and caring for Marissa, not leaving time for dating. But Logan had known other single mothers who managed to have a personal life. And he’d always admired the way Kendall achieved whatever goal she set for herself.

  Simply because he’d been the first to touch her didn’t mean there hadn’t been anyone—several anyones—in the years since. Kendall was an attractive, vibrant woman. How the hell could there not have been someone? And yet Logan’s gut burned w
ith the thought.

  “I bet your daddy hasn’t been here because his work keeps him away,” Logan said.

  It hurt more than the bullet he’d taken in a thigh not to tell her the truth. He hated that she believed, for a single second, that her father didn’t love her or want to be with her. He knew how it felt to always try and fail to live up to a father’s expectations. But, did he want her love simply because of a biological fact? Or would he rather wait and earn her love and affection? He cocked his head and forced a considering glance.

  “Maybe he’s waiting to come back until you learn how to ride a horse.”

  “You said I could come see the horses.”

  “I did. Whenever your mommy says you can.”

  Her tears and sadness forgotten, Marissa sat up. “Can you teach me to ride a horse?”

  “Sure.” With all the pretense of normality, he picked up the pizza slice he no longer had a taste for. He took a bite anyway. “I’m going to be helping another little girl improve her barrel racing.” He looked at Kendall and saw relief over her daughter’s obvious mood shift give way to hesitation about his plans. “It’s why I was in town earlier today.”

  “Brittany Davis,” Kendall guessed.

  Logan nodded.

  “Brittany goes to real school,” Marissa said.

  “Where you’ll start in the fall,” Kendall said as her eyes clouded for a moment. Logan remembered once talking with a Captain, a mother with two children, crying over having missed being home when her oldest went to school for the first day.

  “What’s barrel racing?” Marissa asked.

  “You race around barrels that are set up in a pattern.”

  “I can’t run very fast.”

  Logan laughed, a full belly laugh that loosened the knots in his shoulders. “Aren’t you a smart one? You race with a horse.” He moved a can of soda, a pottery bowl, and Marissa’s cup in the traditional Cloverleaf pattern on the table. “Can I borrow your horse and rider over there?” he asked, gesturing to the toys she’d been playing with earlier, well aware that Kendall watched him in silence.

  “Now,” he said, once Marissa had given him the items, “pretend this is you.” He began racing the plastic horse, guiding it around the soda can. “You guide your horse around the barrels as fast as you can. See how you try to go around the barrel as close as possible?” He continued throughout the rest of the course, going even faster as he approached the imaginary finish line. “The rider with the quickest score wins.”

  “What happens if you go the wrong way?”

  “You’re disqualified. That means you lose.”

  Marissa took back her plastic horse, began moving it around the course. Logan caught the words before he could correct her route. For now, it was enough that she was talking and listening to him. “It looks hard.”

  “That’s what practice is for.”

  “I don’t have a horse, so I can’t practice.”

  “Do you have a tricycle?” She nodded. “You can ride it the same way you would a horse. I can come over one day and set up the course for you in your backyard.”

  “I want to ride the horse.”

  “I know, honey.” He looked at Kendall, no longer talking about races or little girls. Instead, he questioned how he’d managed to overlook for so long something as basic as desire mixed with admiration. “But sometimes it takes time to get what we want.”

  What did he want? The question circled the back of Logan’s thoughts throughout the rest of the evening. To be part of Marissa’s life, sure, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a new awareness of Kendall as a woman. There were areas of his life that were questionable, answers that needed to be found. However, Logan discovered that once he cracked open the door to his attraction to Kendall, he could no longer keep their relationship tucked within the safe boundary of friendship.

  He touched her whenever possible; a brush of fingers over hers as they cleared the dinner remnants, pressing his knee against hers when he leaned forward as they played a board game with Marissa. At one point he saw the pink of emotion appear on her cheeks when she looked over and their gazes locked. He began to crave the lush fullness of her mouth with the same intensity that he’d craved silence the first night of his first deployment.

  “Bedtime, young lady,” Kendall declared after they’d finished a second game.

  “But . . .”

  With a single glance from her mother, Marissa’s protest faded. Logan knew that glance. He’d always believed Kendall had cop’s eyes, the kind of eyes that saw the truth beneath the surface of lies, the kind of eyes that encouraged confession and demanded obedience. The kind of eyes that didn’t back down once a decision or course of action had been set. He also knew how those eyes could be filled with a sweet vulnerability and a hot feminine sensuality that had been his undoing.

  “Go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on. I’ll be right there to read you a story.” Marissa started to walk away, then stopped and turned back when Kendall cleared her throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” She nodded her head in Logan’s direction.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Marissa.” As she walked away he wanted to call her back, ask if he could read her a story, if, at the very least, he could have a good night hug. But the fear that she would say “no” kept him silent and still. The only reason she’d spoken to him at all was because her mother reminded her to do so. He didn’t realize he’d balled his hands into tight fists until he felt Kendall’s hand cover his.

  “Don’t ask me to leave,” he ground out.

  “Logan—”

  “I know I can’t. I won’t ask to be part of your night routine but . . .” His hand opened and closed around hers, preventing her from pulling away. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.” He lifted his head, stared at her. “No one else I want to be with.”

  “Now who’s not being fair?” she whispered. After a long moment and with a squeeze of her fingers in agreement, she stood and went to their daughter.

  While he couldn’t hear their words, Logan found it comforting to listen to the cadence and murmur of their voices. He relaxed enough to stretch out his legs and lean his head against the back of the sofa. It had been so long since he’d felt this kind of quiet.

  It wouldn’t last, of course. There was too much undefined and unresolved in his life. But for this brief space of time, he could close his eyes and enjoy a contentment he’d rarely known in the last five years. He smiled a little when he heard the song start, the laughter that followed.

  His senses went on alert the instant she walked back into the living room. Before he opened his eyes, the scent of honeysuckle arrowed straight to his groin. She’d changed out of her uniform into jeans and a dark T-shirt that emphasized her small breasts. Her short hair had that just-out-of-her-lover’s-bed sexiness that so few women could carry off.

  She was small, in both weight and height. He wondered how her size affected her job, then decided it would be just like Kendall to find ways for it to work to her advantage. Her hips appeared rounder—a natural result of carrying and birthing a child, he supposed. Slowly, his gaze returned to hers, found her staring at him with the same focused look as she had on that night all those years ago.

  He realized she wouldn’t turn him away. She wouldn’t invite him into her bed, but—he stood and stepped toward her—she wouldn’t tell him no. And right now he couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted, needed, more than to have her in his arms, to have his mouth on hers. Her chin lifted, her mouth rose as his lowered. Their lips touched.

  Sweet. Fresh. Clean.

  With this first brush of lips, Logan felt a flood of sensation. He had the notion that if he stood here long enough, surrounded by Kendall’s generosity, it would chase away all the loneliness and loss, and ma
ybe even much of the destruction and desolation he’d seen overseas.

  His arms moved to encircle her shoulders, to shift her closer, more aligned with the growing heat of his desire. Her arms banded his waist while her hands curled up his back to spread wide. And hold him close.

  Her mouth answered his, not taking the kiss deeper or darker, but sliding it along at an easy pace. When the tip of his tongue traced along the seam of her lips, testing, she sighed. And opened to him.

  He banked the temptation to hurry, to once again use her innocence to chase away his demons. She’d made love with him and had a child, but Kendall still retained some of that innocence. The knowledge humbled him and, quite frankly, scared the ever-living hell out of him.

  For that reason he carefully ended the kiss. He stroked down her arms, caught her hands, as he took a small step back. Slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes opened, revealing the blurred edge of desire their kiss had incited.

  “You still can’t sing worth a damn,” he said.

  Humor replaced the desire. “It’s the only way I can get her to quit asking questions and go to sleep.” The tip of her tongue darted out to run over her bottom lip. Unable to resist, he leaned down and let his tongue follow suit. “Logan.”

  “Don’t ask me to stay, even though it’s exactly what I want to do.” He felt her muscles go stiff beneath his fingers. He began to stroke her shoulders, trail his fingers up to the underside of her jaw, ignored the way she tilted her head to give him access, the way her lower body pressed against his.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anything as badly as I want to be with you. Only, it’s not as simple as what I want, but what’s best. For everyone.” He resisted the urge to kiss her again. “I don’t know what to do, Kendall. I don’t want to hurt you.”