Counterfeit Cowgirl (Love and Laughter)

by Lois Greiman

  He drew back, breathing hard. “Wow!” It was the best he could come up with.

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Wow?” she echoed. And in that word there were a thousand emotions.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Wow.”

  Was he teasing her? she wondered wildly. Did he, like Derik, think she was an ice queen? If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was to be made fun of. If men thought her cold, then cold she would be, and far too good for the likes of them.

  But now she couldn’t stand the thought. Not when his touch seemed as warm as the summer sun, as wondrous and alluring as magic. Even now she felt herself drawn toward him. And suddenly their lips were touching again. Her heart clipped along like running hooves in her chest and every nerve ending throbbed with sensation.

  But what did he feel?

  “Hannah, I…” He drew back, breathing hard, and reaching out, he touched her cheek.

  She closed her eyes to the feelings. He slid his fingers, slow as forever, along her jaw and down her throat. It was only then that she realized his hand was trembling.

  7

  TYREL DREW BACK and caught her gaze. “Hannah?”

  Her breath came in soft pants. It no longer mattered that they were worlds apart, for the feelings that soared through her were all consuming, making her head spin and her heart sing. “Yes?”

  “There is no gal in town.”

  “What?”

  “Shelly,” he explained, his words fragmented and his eyes intense. “We broke up six months ago or so.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yeah. It seems she could think of more exciting things to do on a Saturday night.”

  “More exciting than this?” She didn’t even try to keep the honesty from her tone.

  He smiled. Her heart tripped. “Shelly would have made a fine wife but there wasn’t…” He paused and ran the backs of his fingers down her throat. She shivered at the touch. “There was never the fire, the feelings that you need to make forever last. Not like…” He stopped his words and drew his hand slowly away to curl it into a loose fist. Turning his gaze aside, he said, “Looks like she’s down again.”

  “What?”

  He cleared his throat. “The heifer. She’s been down on the other side of those cows. Maybe we better take a look.”

  Taking her hand in his own, he pulled her to her feet, then, quiet and slow, they skirted the wall until he pulled her back down to a squatting position where he raised his arm and pointed.

  “See.” His voice was soft. “The front feet and the nose are out.”

  Hannah spotted the heifer. She was lying flat-out on her side, and straining. The feet and nose Ty had mentioned, didn’t look like feet and a nose at all, but rather like a purpleveined plastic bag with something bumpy trapped inside and trying to get out. But as the heifer strained again, the legs emerged a bit more. The placenta was pushed back, so that Hannah could now see a shiny black head pressed flat against forelegs. Once the head was free the body came in a rush, slippery and wet and the most spectacular process Hannah had ever witnessed in real life.

  She stared in openmouthed amazement. The cow lay panting on her side, looking wasted and forlorn.

  “Is she okay?” Hannah asked, suddenly certain that such an Amazonian effort must have killed her.

  “Shh,” Ty said, and clasping her hand in his own, nodded toward the unfolding drama. “Watch.”

  She did, and finally, just when she was about to insist that they rush forward to help the pair, the calf raised its wobbly head and scrambled to get its legs under it. The cow sat up with a start, and bending her neck back, stared at the newborn with wide, startled eyes.

  The calf struggled again. The cow bellowed, the sound low and throaty, a maternal call as old as time. Lurching to her feet, she hurried over to meet her newborn.

  For some reason unknown to Hannah, tears stung her eyes as she watched the mother lick her baby dry. And when the calf finally rose, shaky and wet on its widespread legs, the first tear coursed down her cheek.

  “You all right?” Ty’s voice was low.

  “Yes.” Hannah wiped at the tear, feeling foolish. “Sorry. I’m not usually…” She wasn’t usually what? Here—in a barn with a newborn calf and a man that made her feel a thousand things she should not be feeling now? “So silly.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s funny,” he said, turning his attention to the heifer and her firstborn. “It’s always miraculous. No matter how many times I see it.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it would be a pretty thing to watch. And yet…” The mother Lowed again and swiped her baby once more with her long, sandpaper tongue. “Now that I see it…”

  “You’ve never seen a calf born before?”

  His question caught her off guard. For a while she had forgotten that she’d been hired to care for stock. She was supposed to have some experience. But the truth was so obvious, and her reasons to keep it from him seemed so remote and ridiculous.

  “Never,” she said.

  For a moment there was silence. Then, leaning forward, Tyrel pulled her into his arms and kissed her. In a moment he drew away.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “For what?”

  “For the truth,” he said, and kissed her again.

  As a thousand sensations flamed through her, she shivered.

  “We’d better go in. You’re getting cold.”

  No, she wasn’t. She was falling in love, drowning in desire, aching with need. But she said none of those things when he helped her to her feet.

  Their journey to the house was slow and silent, but for the crunch of snow beneath their boots. With Tyrel’s arm wrapped .around her shoulders, Hannah felt as if she were floating along on nothing more substantial than a dream.

  Inside the house, she removed her gloves and fumbled with her jacket zipper. She must be cold, she realized suddenly, for her fingers were ungainly. Taking them between his own hands, Ty blew his warm breath between his palms and rubbed her fingers gently.

  Their eyes met. The kiss was inevitable, yielding, promising. But finally it came to an end. He unzipped her jacket himself. In a moment their outdoor clothing had been left behind and he was leading her into the kitchen where he urged her into a chair. Going to the refrigerator, he poured milk into a pan, warmed it, added a couple spoonfuls of powdered chocolate, and dumped it into cups.

  “Here.” Taking her hands again, he curled them around the mug. “It’ll warm you up. Do you want marshmallows?”

  “I’ve got to fit into my overalls,” she reminded him.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, and snorting, dropped two marshmallows into her brew. “If you were any skinnier we’d stick you on a pole in the garden.”

  “I’m afraid I feel more like the Wicked Witch than the Scarecrow lately,” she said, and self-consciously tucked a whisper of hair behind her ear.

  He watched the gesture and was stunned to think she might actually find herself lacking somehow. He pulled his gaze away with an effort and forced himself to sit down with his hot chocolate in front of him.

  “So what about you, Hannah?” he asked softly. “Is there someone waiting for you somewhere?” His stomach roiled and his muscles felt tense as he said the words, but better to learn the truth now than later.

  She stared into her mug. “I’ve got a father…somewhere.”

  Tyrel let the silence settle in for a moment. “I suppose it wouldn’t be wise to admit I’m waiting on pins and needles for a real answer,” he said.

  “No.” The word was nearly whispered. “There’s no one waiting for me.”

  And there was a God in heaven.

  “Why?” he murmured, unable to understand.

  She scowled slightly as she swirled her chocolate, then cleared her throat. “Some men find me rather—cold.”

  His heart was making a strange hubbub in his chest. “I’m from North Dakota,” he said. “What other people think is cold we find
…” He stared at her as he tried to choose the proper words—enchanting, intoxicating, mesmerizing. “Damn near tropical,” he said finally.

  “Really?” she murmured, and for a moment he wondered if she had stopped breathing.

  “Yeah,” he said, and kissed her again.

  The next three hours passed like so many seconds. They talked of everything from movies to horseshoes, skydiving to powdered milk, until finally Ty urged her to her feet and toward the stairs.

  “You’d better go to bed,” he said, and though he knew he was a cad, he couldn’t help adding, “Alone?”

  She nodded, but the motion was slow and less than enthusiastic.

  There was not only a God, but He was kind.

  Smiling, Ty escorted Hannah to her room, and there in the doorway, he kissed her good-night.

  “Sorry I kept you up so late,” he murmured, knowing it was a lie, that he wouldn’t trade a moment of the time they had spent together. “Sleep in late tomorrow. It’s Sunday.”

  “And the cows don’t need to be fed on Sunday?”

  “Not by you,” he said, and because he couldn’t stop himself, he kissed her again, then drew a heavy breath, trying to tear himself away. It didn’t work. “You’re sure you won’t be lonely in there all by yourself?”

  “I’ve got Sean,” she whispered.

  “Those movie stars have all the luck.” One more kiss. Just one more. But it stretched out. “Maybe I should check under your bed. For bogeymen?” he said, letting his kisses slip to her throat.

  She leaned back against the doorjamb, breathing hard, her eyes closed and her slim fingers clasped in his shirt.

  He kissed the tiny hollow between her collarbone, then moved lower, breathing in her scent, her presence, the very essence of her.

  “Ty, please…” Her hands tightened, pushing him away. The kiss ended. Her eyes opened, finding his. “I’m not ready.”

  Tyrel stared into her eyes, then, clamping a tight hand on his more feral urges, he managed one step back. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she whispered, and reaching out, laid a soft palm against his cheek.

  He blew out a breath and tried to relax.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Me? Hell, yeah.”

  She smiled a little.

  “I’ll just…” He nodded toward the stairs. “I’ll just go have myself a roll in the snow. I’ll be fine.”

  She laughed, the sound low and seductive. “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Good night, Hannah. Sleep in,” he repeated, and managed, to his utter amazement, to walk away.

  DESPITE HER BEST EFFORTS to sleep in as Ty had suggested, Hannah awoke just after seven. She’d had four hours of sleep, and yet she felt as if she could fly.

  Sitting up, she glanced out her window. The sun shone out of a robin’s egg sky. Feeling giddy, she hugged her legs for a moment before hopping out of bed.

  Beneath the weak shower spray, she sang a few lines from a Garth Brooks song, then laughed at her feeble attempt. Glancing in the mirror, she decided rouge was unnecessary, and foundation somehow seemed silly here. So she swiped her lashes with a little mascara, and still humming, pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, then hustled downstairs.

  The kitchen was deserted. Impatient to see Tyrel, she slipped into her borrowed jacket, then stopped herself at the door. What was wrong with her? She was a Vandegard and a Clifton. She couldn’t pursue a man.

  Of course not, she thought She’d go feed Daniel and run into Ty by accident.

  Giggling, she mixed the calf replacer into a bucket of warm water and hurried out the door.

  “SO, BROTHER, LOOKS LIKE I owe you some money, huh?” Nate said.

  He’d returned home just before dawn and must be tired as hell. But he looked as bright eyed and irritating as usual, Ty thought.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, pushing a white-faced calf into a stall as Nate shooed the worried cow in after.

  “Your expression,” Nate said, pulling the gate shut only enough so that Ty could hurry back out before the new mother took offense at his presence.

  He did so now. They pulled the gate firmly closed and glanced over the top two-by-four at the pair. They would be fine, just needed a little solitary confinement to help them bond properly.

  “What about my expression?” Ty asked, scowling at his younger brother.

  Nate grinned square back into his face. “Yep. While the cats were away, the mice were aplay.”

  “You’re nuts,” Ty said, and turning, fetched a half bale of straw and tossed it into the newly occupied stall. Taking a pitchfork from the wall, he stepped inside and spread the bedding.

  “Nuts, am I?” Nate asked, watching his brother work. “Maybe so, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s love in the country.” Putting his hand dramatically over his heart, he burst into his usual inane lyrics.

  Finished with his job, Ty stepped from the stall and closed the gate behind him. “The wonderful thing about you, Nate, is you can talk forever about nothing.”

  “’Cuz,” Nate continued, ignoring his brother’s words as he followed him toward the door, “the bet was she had to kiss you. And not the other way around. There’s a fine distinction there.”

  Ty hung the fork near the door and turned away.

  “So which was it?” Nate continued, dogging him like a heeler on a recalcitrant bull. “Did she kiss you or not? ‘Cuz I’m sure not gonna fork over that ten bucks unless she took the initiative.”

  Ty stopped near the door, remembering Hannah in the barn, in his arms, in his dreams. He couldn’t forget the euphoric feelings of the night before, but they were now mingled with an inexplicable foreboding and a nagging fear. He and Hannah came from different worlds. Although he knew almost nothing about her, he knew that much, and his ravaging desire for her would not change that. “I think I might be in over my head, Nate,” he murmured.

  “Yeah?” Nate’s grin only broadened. “She did kiss you!” he crowed. “So she ain’t the ice princess you thought she was, huh?”

  Disgusted and confused, Ty pushed open the door. “Shut up, N—” he began, but before he finished the words, a bucket of milk hit him square in the face.

  He gasped and stumbled back, arms spread wide. “Hannah!”

  She stood before him, eyes blazing.

  “A bet?” she said, her voice low.

  “Hannah…” He felt breathless and stupid. “It’s not like it sounds.”

  “Not like it sounds?” Her voice was shrill. “Then you didn’t make a bet about me?”

  Ty winced. “I didn’t know you then.”

  “You don’t know me now!” she snapped.

  He reached out to touch her arm. She smacked his hand away.

  “How much would you have won if I’d have. slept with you?” she asked.

  “Dammit, Hannah, it’s not like that!” Ty said, grabbing her arm again.

  She swung the plastic bucket like a spiked mace, then threw it ferociously to the ground and stomped off.

  He lunged after her, but Nate snagged his jacket, holding him back.

  “Listen, Tyrel,” he said, voice low as he watched Hannah run for the house. “Sometimes you’re dense as a rock, but you’re my only brother and I don’t want to see you killed.” He nodded toward Hannah’s fleeing figure. “You’d better wait till she cools down.”

  Ty loosened his fists and blew out a hard breath. The milk was starting to congeal on his face and had seeped down his chest and into his underwear. “How long do you think that will be?”

  “Oh…” Nate shook his head once. “Remember Grandpa Ben. He was still spry well into his nineties. There’s hope you’ll live so long.”

  THE DAYS PASSED with painful slowness. Twice Ty tried to speak to Hannah, but both times she managed to evade the issue. On the second attempt, he’d nearly lost his fingers in the door she slammed.

&nbs
p; But he could wait no longer. Today they would have this out if he had to wrestle her down and sit on her. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that because he was too young to die.

  “I’ve got to talk to you,” he said.

  She didn’t stop bedding the calf pen. In fact, she didn’t turn to look at him when she spoke. “Of course, Mr. Fox. You’re the boss.”

  “Hannah.” He stared in frustration at her profile. She’d discarded the tweed cap he’d loaned her. Her hair, bright as summer wheat, swung gently as she continued to spread a soft, golden layer of straw for her small charges. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have made that stupid bet.” She continued working, her movements graceful, her expression unchanged. “But I didn’t know you then. I thought you were just a spoiled little rich girl who thought herself too good for the likes of me. I thought you wouldn’t last a day. But here you are, working…” He paused, searching for words as he watched her. She had hung her jacket on a nail, and now wore faded jeans and one of his cast-off shirts. The wear-softened flannel caressed her shoulders and breasts, making her look small and so feminine it was all he could do to not pull her into his arms and beg for her forgiveness. “Working like a storm trooper,” he murmured. “With your hair all soft and your…” He blew out another breath, his mouth dry. “It’s no secret that you’re beautiful, Hannah. Not to you. Not to anyone. And I was all tied up in knots. With you so haughty, and me looking like a country hick. And I made that idiotic bet. But that wasn’t why I kissed you. I was just overwh—”

  “So we have a new calf?” she interrupted, still not looking at him.

  Tyrel tightened his jaw. “Are you listening to me?”

  She straightened and stared at him in mock surprise. “Why, no, Mr. Fox, I’m not. I said you could talk. I didn’t say I would listen.”

  “Dammit it, Hannah, I—”

  “He’s lonely.”

  “What?”