The Texas Rancher's Family

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Erin broke off the kiss. “Mac...”

  He rubbed a hand up her back, letting it settle at the nape of her neck. “Tell me to stop.”

  “I can’t. You know I can’t.” Even if this was only physical, she wanted it. She wanted him.

  He met her gaze. “Then...?”

  “Let’s go to my bed.”

  He kissed her again, long and hard and deep. Kissed her until she was shaking. “You’re sure?” he whispered.

  Erin knew if they went upstairs there’d be no stopping this runaway train they were on. She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure. Life is so short, Mac.” For too long, she’d only been half living it. Who knew if this chance would come again?

  “Can’t argue with you there,” Mac said gruffly, reminding her that he had suffered his own share of heartache and loss. And maybe been alone too long.

  Hooking his hands around her hips, he pulled her toward him. He kissed her like he meant business, until every inch of her burned with need. Erin moaned and clamped her legs tighter around his waist. She was wet and trembling as he carried her, kissing her all the while, to the stairs.

  Up them. Down the hall. With their lips still fused together, they made it to her bedroom. He had never been in there, she realized, as he slowly set her down next to the bed.

  It was a feminine haven, the kind of abode she never could have had when she was married. An antique four-poster mahogany bed. Silk pink-and-white wallpaper. Flowered duvet and shams. A closet to die for and a chaise longue for reading.

  Mac smiled as he glanced around. “It’s perfect for you.”

  You’re perfect for me, Erin thought, then wondered where that notion had come from. Impatient to take up where they’d left off, she hooked her hand in his belt, then rose on tiptoe again and kissed him fervently as she played with the top button on his slacks, her fingers brushing against the warm muscles of his abs. “Too much talking.”

  His hands skimmed beneath her T-shirt, over her ribs, to the undersides of her breasts. His thumbs rasped her hardened nipples. “Ah, but talking is what makes this memorable.” He skimmed off her shirt, then her bra. Eyes darkening, he savored the sight of her.

  Erin quivered. “I prefer touch.” To demonstrate, she undid his zipper and moved her hand south. He was hot. Aroused. And so big.

  She wasn’t the only one who caught her breath. Mac groaned, moving against her. “Touch is nice.” He undid her shorts, hooked his hands in the elastic and eased everything off.

  “I told you.” She sighed and kissed him back as he stroked her flesh.

  “But so is letting you know just how beautiful you are.” He slid a finger into her until she writhed helplessly against him.

  “Mac...” Shaking, she withdrew long enough to get him naked, too. He was so magnificent, so fiercely male, she could barely look away from him. When he brought her against him again, she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Like that, do you?” He kissed her deeply.

  She arched against him, clinging to him like a lifeline. She had never felt pleasure this intense. He was hard and huge, his body rippling with sheer power. “Very much.”

  “Let’s see how you feel about this.” He stretched out over her on the bed. Pinned her hands on either side of her head and kissed his way down her neck. Across her collarbone. To her breasts.

  He suckled gently, bringing her body to fierce pleasure, until she could take no more. “Mac...”

  “Tell me what else you want.”

  Love from someone like you, she thought wistfully. And tenderness. And hope for the future again. So that there will be more to my life than just holding on to what I’ve already got.

  But that wasn’t what he was talking about, she knew. “For you to touch me...” she whispered, guiding his fingers.

  “Here?” He stroked her.

  “Mmm.” Erin arched.

  “And here?”

  He caressed her with just the right rhythm, moving inside, paving the way, until dampness was flowing.

  Erin shifted. “I want to touch you, too.”

  He pulled her back. “Later.” Holding her captive, he moved lower still. His mouth took over where his fingers left off, sending her soaring, until at last she cried out, shuddered, held him close. “I want you.”

  He groaned and hugged her to him, his eyes fierce. “I want you, too. So much.”

  And then there was nothing but pleasure. Lifting her up, opening her, making them one. Together, they sailed ever higher, until there was only this moment in time, this chance to feel really and truly alive.

  * * *

  “NOT TOO SHABBY, HMM?” Mac teased, as their shudders slowly subsided and contentment took over. Wary of his weight, he shifted onto his back, with Erin still clasped to his chest.

  She sucked in a breath. “Definitely not shabby.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck. After a moment, she made a strangled sound of dismay. “And maybe not all that wise, either.”

  Here it came...the second thoughts. Mac stroked his hand through her hair. All he wanted was to make love to her again. Yet the instinctual part of him knew that this was as unusual an occurrence for Erin as it was for him.

  He always thought first, acted later. Never let passion get him off course.

  But passion was what had landed him here in the bed of the smartest, kindest woman he had ever met. In the midst of a pending business deal, no less. He stroked his hand through her soft, honey-blond curls, aware that their coupling was the only sane thing in a world suddenly gone a little crazy. “We don’t have to analyze it, Erin.” At least not now.

  She rose on her elbows, looking tousled, and a little bit grumpy. “Spoken like a true traveling man.”

  “Don’t compare me to your ex-husband.”

  Her pretty eyes narrowed. “Why not? In this respect you’re the same.”

  She was trying to start a fight...to avoid dealing with this. He was close to giving in. Until he saw, by the look in her eyes, just how vulnerable she was. And knew to get sucked into that would be to lose her forever.

  Mac loosened his hold on her. Watched as she sat up, clutched the sheet to her chest and pulled away. He folded his arms behind his head. “How would you have this play out, in a best-case scenario?”

  Erin stood and, careful to keep the sheet wrapped around her, wandered through the dark room to collect her scattered clothing. “I’d appreciate it for what it was. Is.”

  Resentment built inside him. The one thing he detested most of all was a lack of honesty. “And what is that?”

  “A perfect storm of mutual loneliness and physical need. One that needn’t ever happen again.”

  Without another word, she stepped into the bathroom and partially shut the door. Mac stayed where he was, wishing he could watch her, forcing himself to allow her the privacy she desired.

  Erin walked back out, fully dressed, hairbrush in hand. Without meeting his eyes, she positioned herself in front of her antique, full-length mirror and fixed her hair in the light streaming from the open bathroom door.

  Mac sensed she wanted to force him out, so this evening could end badly, as she needed it to. Abruptly as dog-tired as he deserved to be, given everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, he rose and began to dress. There were times when a guy had to follow his instincts and go against the grain. This was one of them.

  Pivoting, Erin lounged against the bureau and watched him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t you have anything to say?” she asked eventually.

  Mac had suppressed enough feelings with his late wife to last him a lifetime. The last thing he wanted was another relationship where decorum and expectation trumped gut-level needs every time. “You want to know what I think?” he repeated. “I think, try as you might, you can’t un-ring a bell. But if it’ll make you happy to pretend we don’t know how great it was to make love with each other—” he shrugged and moved away from her “—then do what you have to do.”

 
Erin blinked. “And that’s it?”

  Mac noticed she looked stunned and hurt, but no more ready to admit their tryst was a good thing. “I want you, Erin,” he told her wearily. “Not just as a sometime bedmate, but as my woman.” He paused to look into her eyes. “But I’m not going to pressure you into anything. So for this to happen again, for anything to happen again, you’re going to have to come to me.”

  * * *

  SUNDAY MORNING, all three children walked into Erin’s studio behind the garage, where she was busy cutting the leather for Mac’s boots. Sammy took the lead. “Mom, Heather needs cowgirl boots and jeans. ’Cause we want to take her riding and she can’t go unless she has that stuff to wear.”

  “Also,” Stevie added importantly, before Erin had a chance to respond, “she’s a little scared, because she’s never been on a horse before. But she really, really wants to learn.”

  Heather, who was flanked by the boys, nodded emphatically.

  Erin put down her cutting tools. “Have you talked to Heather’s daddy?”

  All three shook their heads. “But it’ll be okay if you tell him it’s okay,” Stevie said.

  Not so sure about that, Erin switched off the lamp above her worktable. “Let’s go see, shall we?”

  Mac was seated at the dining room table, working on his laptop computer. He was wearing khaki trousers and a yellow button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was rumpled, as if he’d forgotten to brush it when he got up that morning, but his face was clean-shaven. Two new Batman Band-Aids covered the stitches there. His bruises were more pronounced than the day before, but attractive in a rakish sort of way.

  All in all, he looked sexy and at ease, and seeing him that way reminded Erin all over again how great it had been to make love with him the evening before.

  “The kids have a question for you.”

  “Heather wants to ride a horse,” Stevie said.

  “And we want her to,” Sammy added.

  Mac looked at Erin with a lifted brow.

  “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you, but she says she’s never ridden before,” Erin told him.

  “She hasn’t.”

  “Have you?”

  He smiled that wicked, teasing smile reminiscent of the day they’d met. “Only one way to find out,” he said.

  Which wasn’t an answer. Yet it was, if flirting with her was an answer.

  “We could go this afternoon if we outfit her with the proper gear,” Erin suggested.

  Mac was already on his feet. “Let’s do it.”

  Monroe’s didn’t open on Sundays, which made the task easy and private. Erin unlocked the back door and led the way in. To avoid having to turn customers away, she left the front lights off. They went to the children’s section. She consulted Heather on colors, then carried appropriate-size jeans and long-sleeved snap-front Western shirts to a dressing room.

  Heather liked the regular-fit boot-cut jeans. She picked out a green-and-blue-plaid shirt. Mac talked her into getting a red gingham one, too, as well as another pair of jeans. Then it was off to the children’s boot section.

  Erin measured Heather’s foot, then walked her over to view the rainbow of choices and designs. After much deliberation, Mac’s little girl chose a medium brown, stack-heeled boot emblazoned with yellow and red flowers.

  “You sure you don’t want pink or lavender boots?” Mac asked, no doubt thinking about the color of her many outfits.

  Heather shook her head. “No, Daddy. No more pink,” she said firmly.

  “She’s gonna need a hat, too,” Sammy said, coming over with a straw one that was just her size.

  Heather put it on, checked out her reflection in the mirror and pirouetted with a smile. “Look, everybody, I’m a real cowgirl now!”

  She sure was.

  It turned out Mac needed riding clothes, too. While the kids went over to the children’s play area in the corner of the store, Erin helped him find the right-size Wranglers and, at his request, a couple of snap-front shirts and a summer-weight Resistol to keep the sun out of his eyes.

  She leaned against the wall outside the dressing room, eyes shut against the mental image of him changing, and the memories that evoked. “Need anything?” she asked.

  The silence that fell seemed rife with double entendres.

  Mac cleared his throat. “No. These are good.”

  A second later, when he stepped out, she found out how good. No question, he filled out a pair of Wranglers in a way that would make another man weep with envy. Trim waist. Flat abs. Nice backside. Make that really nice backside, Erin amended silently, as she continued to check out the fit of the denim over his masculine frame. In front, well, she knew all too well what lay hidden behind his zipper fly.

  Man, did she ever.

  Erin flushed, then nodded at the hat still sitting on the dressing-room bench. “Let’s check out how it fits.”

  Quirking his lips, Mac reached for the Resistol and slanted it over his brow.

  And damned if the man didn’t look like a Texas cowboy born and bred.

  * * *

  “SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Mac asked his daughter an hour later, as he lifted her into the saddle of one of the ranch’s most beloved geldings and climbed on behind her.

  Erin smiled in approval and waved.

  “I like it, Daddy!” Heather declared, holding on to the saddle horn with both hands. She leaned back so her shoulders and spine rested against her daddy’s broad chest. With one arm around her, the other on the reins, Mac sat there oozing confidence.

  He did know how to ride, after all, Erin noted.

  That was proved as the five of them set out, Erin bringing up the rear, her boys and their two horses taking the lead, over the well-worn riding trail that wound through the prettiest—and safest—terrain of the Triple Canyon Ranch.

  “I’m beginning to see why you wouldn’t want to give this up,” Mac told Erin after a while, reining his horse in to keep pace with hers. “It’s gorgeous out here, in a way that the aerial view doesn’t show.”

  Erin inclined her head. “Bad for cattle.”

  “I can see that. Probably a little too rocky and arid.” He waggled his brows earnestly. “Nice for a wind farm, though.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “How did I know you were going to say that?” she asked, peering at him from beneath the brim of her hat.

  “ESP?”

  “Or a rancher’s intuition.”

  A brief silence fell as they moved along. “How often do you ride?” Mac asked eventually.

  Erin shrugged, pleased at the easy way Mac set the pace of his horse to hers. The two of them were riding with the same camaraderie as her boys.

  “Not often enough these days. Between the commute to town for work and school, and homework and dinner and dishes and chores... We’re lucky if we fit it in once a week. Worst-case scenario, once a month.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  It was. Their horses needed more exercise.

  “Was it ever any different?”

  “Meaning when...” Aware that Heather was half listening to their conversation as she took in the scenery, Erin avoided saying Angelica’s name. “Um...was alive?”

  Heather turned her head. “You mean Angelica? Sammy and Stevie’s little sister?”

  So the boys had been confiding in a way that was not fraught with tears and pain. The knowledge was new to Erin. She had never known her sons to be able to open up like this. Aware that it was really helping them to have a “little sister” with them, even temporarily, she replied kindly, “Yes. I’m speaking about my little girl, the one who is in heaven now.”

  Heather nodded. “With my mommy.”

  “Yes,” Mac said. “They’re both in heaven.”

  Even though we wish they were still here. Erin swallowed around the sudden ache in her throat.

  Heather looked up at the sky and studied the fluffy white clouds. “Do you think they know each other?”
r />   Mac seemed at a loss.

  Which left it up to Erin. “Well, now that you mention it...” Erin said thickly after a moment. “I think they just might be together right now, looking down and watching over us...keeping us safe.”

  Heather smiled at the image. Mac’s eyes glistened, along with Erin’s. And that was the last any of them said for a long time.

  * * *

  “THANKS FOR TODAY,” Mac said, walking into Erin’s studio much later.

  She looked up from her sewing machine. “You’re very welcome. We had fun, too. For the first time in an eternity, it felt like we were a family.”

  His eyes fell to the wrinkle she’d been putting in across the toe, which would allow his boot to bend as he moved. “Us, too.”

  Erin sat back in her chair and looked him in the eye. “Ever since...” She swallowed thickly and pushed on. “It’s been like there was something missing in our lives.”

  Understanding filled his blue eyes. “It’s like there’s a hole in your heart you can’t fill.”

  Erin nodded. “Anyway, it was good to let go of that for once. Just be in the moment and—I know it sounds a little corny—feel the love.” Remember what it was to be a complete unit with a mom and a dad and kids, all having fun. Even if, technically, they weren’t the same family.

  Mac came closer. Like her, he had showered after their ride. He smelled amazing, like soap and aftershave lotion.

  He pulled up a chair next to her, straddled it backward and rested his folded arms across the top. “Just so you know. I haven’t taken your incredible hospitality for granted. I’m still looking for a place for us to rent, short-term.”

  Was that why he’d sought her out? To tell her he was leaving? Erin stiffened. “Please don’t. Sammy and Stevie have missed their little sister. Having Heather here has helped them so much.”

  “It’s helped us, too,” Mac replied. “But...what about you?”

  Erin jerked in a breath. “What do you mean?” She put the pieces of the left boot aside and reached for the pieces of the right.

  He watched her sew another wrinkle. “Is it going to be awkward?”

  Erin checked to make sure her stitches were correct. “Because we made love?”