Toben smiled down at her. “So you do understand?”
“Mitchell isn’t a one-night stand, Toben. He’s not someone I get fall-down drunk with or make a scene over. He’s a good—”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s a good man. We’ve gone over this before.” Anger warmed him. “I don’t know him. All I know is he sleeps under your roof, throws a mean right hook and feels the need to protect you and Rowdy. From me.” His brows rose. “I’ve seen you two together, Poppy. He might be your best friend but that man wants more.”
Poppy’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed tight.
He reached down, cupping her cheek in his palm and running his thumb across her lower lip. He sucked in a breath, watching his thumb, savoring the soft skin against his calluses. “He might be a good man, but he doesn’t set you on fire the way you should be.” His gaze locked with hers. “A woman as hungry as you are should find a man that can keep her satisfied.” Her lips parted as she swayed, ever so slightly, into him.
He couldn’t do it. He wanted to, so bad it hurt not to pull her close and show her just how much he wanted her. But her words had stirred up too many doubts. There wasn’t room for doubts, not now. For Rowdy’s sake.
“I’ll go take that shower now.” His voice was gruff. “Thanks for the offer of a bed.”
Even after he’d showered and he lay in Poppy’s guest bed surrounded by moving boxes, he could still feel her lip against his thumb.
Chapter Eight
Poppy tossed and turned, punching her pillow into submission and fighting with her blankets until she gave up. It didn’t matter that it was three in the morning—she was done pretending to sleep. If Toben Boone was trying to drive her to distraction, he was doing a damn fine job. His touch had thrilled her, sending her into a state of anticipation. His thumb had seemed to have a direct line to every nerve ending in her body. When he’d stroked her lip...
She kicked back the sheets, letting the cool morning air take some of the heat out of her blood. Damn him. Damn her for reacting to him. Why did she react to him? And how the hell did she stop?
She pulled on her work clothes, slammed her hat on her head and slipped outside. Stretching her side, easing the dull ache of her old wound, she inspected her new home with satisfaction. She threw a blanket on Stormy’s back and rode along the fence line that circled the length of the house and yard. Her flashlight beam ran over the fence wire. It looked sound, barbed wire strung tight and the cedar stays strong with no signs of splitting. If she could keep her mind blank—at least Toben-free—she might get a few things done. Like marking off the plot of land she’d plant in the spring. There was no rush, except for the restlessness in the pit of her belly.
She went back to the barn in search of materials...and came up empty.
When she turned to go, she paused, staring at what had been a hole in the far corner. Now it was patched up, the wood sanded smooth. She ran her fingers along the planking, pressing against the newly reinforced frame of the stall. Good, solid work.
Mitchell hadn’t had time to do this...
Her gaze peered out the open doors at her house. Toben.
She swallowed the knot in her throat, fighting back the longing and hope she’d thought had long since deserted her. This wasn’t for her. This was for Rowdy. Everything he did was for Rowdy. What more could she want? She refused to consider the possible answers to that question, focusing on the list of supplies she’d need from another trip to the local hardware store. This time for some yard stays and marking ribbon. And maybe some heavy-duty gardening tools. The ground was fertile, but there were plenty of rocks to slow down progress.
Cheeto whinnied, so she rubbed his neck, talking to him softly in his stall. “Don’t you worry—Rowdy will be up soon enough.” She checked her watch. Almost six. Good enough to start cooking...since Toben would have to get to work soon.
She rode Stormy back to the house, pulled off the blanket and halter, and let the horse free-graze. Stormy butted her with his head, blowing hard into her hair.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, pressing her face against the little gray’s neck. Besides Mitchell, Stormy was one of the few constants in her life. The horse was part of the family. “Gotta feed my human baby,” she murmured, patting Stormy’s neck before slipping in the back screen door.
Soon Poppy was flipping pancakes on the electric griddle she’d picked up during her last grocery shop. Two plates were piled high and the sun was barely up. She set the table and smoothed the tablecloth, and still no sign of life came down the hallway.
At seven Poppy was done waiting. She marched down the hall and knocked on the guest room door, pushing it open.
Toben stood, shirtless, staring at her. “Come on in.”
“I made...pancakes.” She wasn’t so eager to hurry breakfast along. Or see him put on a shirt. In fact, she was fine just as she was. The view was incredible. Broad shoulders, a chest and stomach cut hard and lean. And the lightest dusting of hair leading down to the waistband of his jeans. “Breakfast.”
“You made me breakfast?” The surprise in his gaze pulled her attention to his face.
It was a mistake. Apparently her reaction to his male perfection was making him ready and willing. There was no misunderstanding the look in his blue eyes or the tightness of his jaw.
“I made breakfast,” she repeated. “For everyone.”
He took one step toward her, then another. “Kids are awake?”
She shook her head.
“So you made breakfast for me.” The corner of his mouth kicked up.
She shook her head, willing herself to move but staying put.
“And you came in here to wake me up?” he asked, stopping an inch away—well within touching range.
She shook her head, distracted by a long-faded scar that ran along his clavicle. “What?”
“You came in here for me?” he asked.
She nodded.
He chuckled.
“What?” She shook her head. “No. I came in here to make sure you were up. You have work and I thought you’d want—”
His lips were soft. She hadn’t expected that. In the brief time they’d spent together, nothing about him had been soft or gentle. But now...she couldn’t breathe.
His hand crept along her back to cradle her head. His mouth parted slowly, his tongue teasing her until she opened for him. It was a slow kiss, the sort of unhurried intentional seduction Poppy had no experience with. All she knew was she was losing... No, losing wasn’t the right word.
She didn’t mind the feel of his chest beneath her fingertips. The rapid thump of his heart under her palm felt more like a victory. His skin contracted beneath her touch, his hands tightened in her hair, and when her fingers slid into his tangled curls, his soft groan told her he might be more affected than she was.
If that was possible.
She turned away from his kiss, holding on to him until the world righted itself. Even then, she didn’t let go. He pressed his forehead to hers, his unsteady breathing fanning across her temple. This was dangerous. Being held this way, savoring his smell and touch. She craved intimacy far more than sex. Not that she’d mind that either.
“Breakfast,” she repeated. “Don’t want you to be late for work.”
He kissed her forehead, breathing deep. “Thank you.” His hands and arms released her. “I’ll be right there.”
She lingered in the doorway, her loneliness renewed with a fierce intensity. Something about watching him dress, catching sight of his wink and crooked grin in the mirror, was oddly comforting.
“Or you can wait,” he added, his smile growing.
Her cheeks were burning hot as she headed back to the kitchen.
He joined her minutes later, tucking in his long-sleeved button-down into his work jeans. �
��Smells good.”
She poured him a cup of coffee and put a stack of pancakes, bacon and two fried eggs on his plate.
“A man could get used to this,” he said, leveling her with another crooked grin.
She shook her head, standing awkwardly at the counter.
“Not gonna eat with me?” he asked, taking a large bite of his breakfast.
She fidgeted.
“Sit down, Poppy, please. Have coffee with me.” He sat back in his chair, waiting.
She sighed, sitting with her cup clutched between both hands. “You work on the family ranch?” Filling the silence was a necessity. Might as well learn some of what he’d been doing with himself for the last few years.
He nodded. “My uncle’s turned most of the operations over to his kids—my cousins. Each of them has some stake. Hunter operates the working ranch, for the most part. They have cattle and partner with the State Agriculture Department to track and monitor whitetail populations, too.”
Poppy was impressed.
“Archer runs an animal refuge on his acreage. He’s a horse fanatic, talks to them like people. His wife has the gift, as well. It’s an amazing thing to see—bet Rowdy’d get a kick out of visiting them.”
“He would,” she agreed. “So what do you do?”
“Whatever they need.” He swallowed down his coffee. “Some days I’m driving to pick up horses for Archer, others I’m fixing windmills. This weekend we’ll be vaccinating cattle.”
“There’s a lot of work involved in running a ranch.” She had no experience with that. “Grandpa’s farm wasn’t much of a farm. A couple of cows and pigs, some chickens and a donkey so mean the mailman wouldn’t deliver to our place for fear of getting kicked into the next county.”
Toben laughed.
“What about your family?” she asked, nervous.
He swallowed and sat back. “If you’re asking about me, I’m not married. Never have been. No one waiting for me to call. And Rowdy’s my only kid.” He smiled. “If you’re asking about the Boones, well, that would make me late for work.” He stood. “Thank you for the breakfast, Poppy. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an agreeable morning.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I mean it.” His gaze wandered over her face, lingering on her mouth just long enough to make her a little light-headed. “Damn but you make it hard for a man to leave.”
She blinked, processing his words long after his truck had disappeared through her gate.
“Morning, Ma.” Rowdy stumbled into the kitchen, his little eyes puffy and his curls sticking out every which way. “Smells good.”
She pulled him into her lap, knowing he was too sleepy to argue much. “I made you pancakes.”
“Where’s Dad?” he asked.
Her heart thudded. She didn’t mind hearing Rowdy call Toben Dad. She liked it. “He went to work.” And she’d forgotten to thank him for the work he’d done in the barn. But then, she’d been a little distracted.
“He eat? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he said, yawning widely.
“No, I cooked all this food but I didn’t let him eat a bite,” she teased, tickling him until he was gasping for breath—nearly falling out of her lap.
“I love you, Ma,” Rowdy said. “I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we found Dad.”
She kissed his cheek, replaying the morning and Toben’s parting words. Maybe he was right. This had been a very good morning. “I love you, too.”
* * *
“I NEED YOU to go to El Paso.” Archer didn’t look up from the spreadsheet on his desk.
Toben blew out a slow breath. The last thing he wanted was a road trip, not when things were going so well with Rowdy—and Poppy.
“Got two pregnant mares. One is stuck and the other won’t leave. They’re mustangs—the herd was auctioned off earlier this week but they were missed somehow. I’d go anticipating a struggle.” Archer sat back, running a hand over his face. “I’ve tried to get John Georgesson and Hildie Evans to go, but they’re not free. I know this isn’t the best time for you, but these animals need our help.”
Archer never offered more information than was necessary. So his concession for Toben’s situation meant a great deal. “I’ll go,” he agreed. He might not want to go, but it was what responsible adults did—their job.
“I appreciate it,” Archer said. “Might be good to take another set of hands. See if Deacon’s up for it.”
“Be back soon.” Toben saw Archer’s nod and knew that was all the acknowledgment he’d get. He left the refuge administration offices, smiling at Archer’s pretty wife coming down the path with their daughters.
“Toben.” Archer’s daughter Ivy waved, lifting a basket. “We brought Daddy some muffins I made.”
Toben crouched, sniffing the basket. “Mm, smells good, Ivy. I’m sure he’ll eat them up.”
“Looks like a storm coming in. Hope whatever you’re up to keeps you close to home,” Eden said, nodding at the clouds gathering on the horizon.
“Heading to El Paso. With any luck, I’ll miss it.” He tipped his hat at them, lightly tapped little Lily on her button nose and set off in search of Deacon. After walking the length of the sheds, through the paddock toward the walker wheels and past the new barn containing the rehabilitation pool, he found him. Deacon sat on a bale of hay, watching two horses. “Is that Fester?” Toben asked, sitting by his cousin.
“Watching him reminds me that anything’s possible. Look at him. He’s a different horse.” Deacon shook his head, watching how carefully he treated the little paint.
Toben remembered all too well how mean-spirited Fester had been—he’d been the recipient of one too many bites. But once they’d put Fester and Miss Kitty together, he’d calmed. Archer thought it was because the big stallion liked taking care of other animals. Eden thought Fester just needed Miss Kitty. Whatever it was, the black horse made sure the blind paint horse was never alone.
“Gotta run?” Deacon asked.
“El Paso. I know you’re champing to get on the road, but think you could take a detour with me first?” Toben stretched his arms over his head, eyeing the skies again. “Better get these two into the barn before that hits.”
Miss Kitty didn’t like storms. Which meant Fester didn’t like storms.
After Toben and Deacon had the horses secured, they loaded up one of the Boone trucks with provisions and attached a horse trailer. Deacon checked the tire pressure, Toben checked the engine fluid levels and they piled into the truck.
“You drive. I know Archer doesn’t trust me,” Toben said.
Deacon shot him a look. “Normally that’d be enough to make you want to drive.”
Toben smiled, pulling his phone from his pocket. He selected Poppy’s number and held the phone up to his ear.
“Don’t tell me you’re calling her?”
“No point in looking back, Deacon,” he explained. “I want to move forward with Rowdy in my life. Poppy’s a part of that.”
The phone rang and rang, but she didn’t answer. When her voice message popped up, he cleared his throat. “Hey, Poppy, I wanted to let Rowdy know I’m going to El Paso to pick up some horses for work. If we drive through, I’ll be back for Thursday-night dinner. I’ll pick you up around five. If you need me, call me...” He hesitated, wanting to say more but having no idea what that might be. “Bye.”
“You didn’t come home last night,” Deacon said, eyeing him.
Toben looked at him. “Keeping tabs on me?”
Deacon shook his head. “Hell, no. That’d be a full-time job.”
They drove in silence, the rain falling in hard sheets by the time they were on the highway. The rain kicked up, requiring them to pull off onto the wide shoulder of the road and wait. Deacon turned o
ff the windshield wipers and found a weather report on the radio.
The radio announcer’s voice filled the truck cabin. “Expect hail and heavy rains on and off through the rest of the morning, then things will warm up into the triple digits. For now, batten down the hatches and hold on tight—things are going to get bumpy.”
“Well, this sucks,” Deacon said, leaning forward to peer out the front windshield. “Not gonna make Archer happy.” He turned the engine off, sighing heavily.
“Even he can’t control the weather.” Toben chuckled.
Deacon laughed, too, then tilted his seat back and pushed his hat down over his face.
“Sleeping?” Toben asked.
“Thinking about it.” His voice was muffled under his hat.
“I kissed her,” he said. “This morning.”
Deacon lifted his hat. “That where you slept last night?”
“In a guest bed, alone,” Toben elaborated.
Deacon grinned. “So you’re not mad at her anymore?”
Toben looked at his lock screen. It was a picture from last night: Rowdy with ice cream on the tip of his nose, smiling like crazy. And in the background was Poppy. “No.”
“You ever been faithful?” Deacon asked.
Toben glared at him. “Never had someone to be faithful to.”
Deacon pushed his hat back, leveling him with a hard stare. “Now you do?”
Toben respected Deacon. He was the sort of man who lived by his word and didn’t tolerate any shit. The sort of man Toben wanted to be. For Rowdy. For himself. And, if there was even the slightest chance, for Poppy. “Now I do,” he said.
Deacon grinned. “Take a lesson from Fester, then.”
Toben frowned.
“He’s not biting people and causing drama anymore. Making his little lady happy makes him happy. Simple.” Deacon yawned.
Toben nodded.
“This is gonna be fun to watch.”
Toben scowled at his cousin. It wasn’t going to be simple, but nothing worth getting was ever easy. To Toben, there was nothing worth getting more than his family.
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