Once Upon a Cowboy: contemporary fairy tale romance (Cowboy Fairytales Book 1)

by Lacy Williams

  She couldn't see Gideon's face, but could almost imagine the skeptical twist of his lips, though he didn't make a sound.

  "He's an adult," she whispered, feeling as if she were stepping over the line with the statement. But it was true. It was admirable that Gideon cared what was going on with his brother, but Matt didn't have to tell his brother anything. It—whatever it was—was his burden to bear.

  Gideon didn't respond, and she was afraid she had overstepped.

  Then he shook her slightly. "There's nothing left for you to clean. You should be sleeping."

  "I haven't tackled the living room windows yet," she teased softly. Then, in a whisper. "I...can't sleep. Every time I start to drift off, I see..." Tim.

  His hands tightened infinitesimally where they rested on her waist.

  She swallowed hard. "My...my mom died when I was young, but I don't really remember..."

  A breath passed between them.

  "This was different," he said, and his voice was rough. "It was violent. Traumatic."

  She nodded, throat closing up.

  "It will take some time. The memories will start to lose their power. You won't forget, but the sharpness of those moments will fade. You'll be able to divert your thoughts. Sleep better."

  "Really?" She could barely fathom it.

  "Yeah." He must've sensed that she needed extra reassurance because he went on. "One of the first missions I went on... We were sent in covertly to rescue this hostage. Our cover was blown."

  She could tell from the deepening timber of his voice that it was hard for him to talk about this. She rested her palms gently against his muscled chest, wanting to offer comfort. She was more than a little impressed by the strength she felt beneath her hands.

  "We got out, but the hostage was shot. He bled out in my hands. I didn't sleep for a week. Spent some time talking to the shrink assigned to the Teams. Still had trouble turning it off, but after awhile...it got easier."

  His story ended, and she could hear the rough breaths as he exhaled. She couldn't see his face—no doubt he was thankful for that—but she still knew that re-telling these events had reopened the wound he felt. Because there was more to the man this his gruff, powerful demeanor.

  "Thank you for telling me," she said. It seemed so inadequate for what he'd given her.

  Knowing that a strong, powerful man like Gideon was, in fact, as human as she was a comfort. It likely wouldn't help her to sleep tonight, or tomorrow night, but she was glad he'd shared with her.

  "Is that why you're worried about Matt? Are you afraid something like that happened to him?"

  He exhaled, the puff of warm air brushing her forehead. "I guess. After what happened during my last tour—my stepdad died—now it's up to me to take care of the family."

  It was a nice thought, but... Matt and Carrie were adults, each with their own lives. The ranch was well-run, with a foreman and plenty of hands. Was Gideon's sense of caretaking verging on overprotective?

  She didn't know the whole situation. Had only known Gideon for two days. How could she make a judgment? She couldn't.

  Suddenly the back door opened, and there was the sound of motion as Matt must have stepped inside. "Gid?"

  Gideon cleared his throat. "Yeah."

  The kitchen light flipped on, and Gideon stepped away from Alessandra, his arms finally falling away.

  "Uh... am I interrupting something?" Matt's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a definite note of amusement.

  "No," Gideon said firmly. Although if Matt had come in minutes earlier, he definitely would've been interrupting. "Allie can't sleep, and I thought I'd take her with me out to the barn."

  Matt stared at his brother, an enigmatic expression crossing his face.

  "Not for too long," Gideon insisted.

  Matt shrugged. "This is your mission, brother. Do what you want."

  Glad she'd pulled on a pair of jeans and warm, woolen socks with the long-sleeved T-shirt she'd worn to bed, Alessandra followed Gideon to the mudroom as Matt changed places with them, arms crossed over his chest as he watched from the hallway.

  "You can borrow one of mine, even though it'll swallow you up." Gideon pulled a heavy brown corduroy coat from a hook on the wall and held it open for her. She stuffed her arms in the sleeves. Her hands didn't even poke through the ends, and the coat hung past her thighs.

  He tugged, turning her back toward him, before he looped a scratchy knitted scarf over her neck and began tucking the front ends in a loose knot.

  "Um..." She lifted her right foot to show the woolen socks.

  His mouth quirked. "We've got an old pair of Carrie's boots here." He bent, rifling among the boots lined up against the wall, finally coming up with a pair of what looked like a cross between rain boots and work boots. "They might be a little big."

  She had to hold onto his shoulder as he helped her step into the boots. And if she held on a moment too long, well...who could blame her?

  CHAPTER 7

  Gideon knew this was a bad idea. Spending time alone with Alessandra. Getting close to her.

  Definitely kissing her had been a bad idea.

  But he couldn't seem to help himself, not when she'd been shaken by the memories of what had happened to her in New York. He knew what that was like.

  And...okay. His motives weren't entirely altruistic.

  The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. She was a good listener. Didn't tell him he was foolish to be spying on his brother.

  Getting involved with someone who was leaving felt like the most dangerous thing he'd done since he'd left the Teams.

  But he couldn't seem to help himself.

  He hustled her across the expanse of yard between the house and barn. If someone was watching the place, they probably wouldn't be expecting to see the princess coming outside at this time of night. And he'd bundled her up pretty good.

  It only took seconds to jog across the space with Alessandra tucked under his arm, and then they reached the barn.

  "You'll want to keep your coat on," he cautioned as he pulled the door closed. Although the building offered the protection from the cutting wind, only the office was heated, and not by much.

  She followed him in, looking all around, her face open with curiosity and wonder. Her nose wrinkled adorably.

  "You don't like the smell?" he teased.

  "Now I understand why all the cowboys have been heading for the shower first thing before supper," she retorted. She smiled. Smiled! "It's the scent of your trade," she said with a little shrug. "It isn't disgusting."

  He didn't know about that. "Glad you think so, but I'd still advise watching your step."

  "What do you do out here at night?" she asked. "Aren't the animals sleeping?"

  He led the way to the plank fence that separated them from the open part of the barn, where a mama and her new baby did, in fact, sleep. Opposite, a second cow circled in an agitated manner. Her belly was distended and judging by her movements, she was close.

  "It's calving season." He motioned her to join him at the railing. "Right now we've got several new babies being born every day." He leveled a look at her. "And some at night. We track the cows that are close and try to get them into the barn, so we can watch them and make sure there aren't any complications with the birth."

  "Are there often complications?"

  He shrugged. "Sometimes. We help out if we can, get the vet out here if it turns into an emergency situation." He nodded to the cow who had now lain in the hay. "This little lady looks like she's close. If I'm right, you can watch a little miracle."

  She leaned both elbows on the railing. Her hands weren't visible in the coat at all, it swallowed her up. But he'd felt a visceral Mine! when he'd tucked her into the coat a few minutes earlier.

  "It seems like a lot of sleepless night," she said with a sideways glance at him.

  "For about a month. Maybe six weeks." He shrugged. "It's part of running a cattle operation."

 
; "It must be vastly different than what you used to do—in the military."

  He nodded. "It is. More cyclical. A lot less training required."

  But she didn't seem to appreciate his humor. "Do you ever miss it? Being on assignment? Going into danger?"

  Being on high alert this week had certainly reminded him of what he'd left behind. He missed being an important part of the team, having a critical assignment that meant the life or death of the mission.

  "Doesn't matter. My knee blew out on my last mission. I wouldn't be fit for active duty anymore." And that killed him. He kept his focus on the cow, aware of Alessandra's gaze on his face. The cow was straining, obviously in the throes of labor, but nothing seemed to be happening.

  "Besides," he said offhandedly, "someone's got to run this place. And Carrie and the squirt need me."

  She slanted a look at him. "It seems as if Trey might be angling for the she-needs-me position in Carrie's life."

  He grunted. "He'd better not be."

  "Why not? He works for you. You've got to have some trust in him." Her statement was innocent, but it didn't help the acid churning in his gut.

  "After what happened to her, Carrie needs someone..." He searched for the right word, but it wasn't coming to him easily.

  "Who makes a better living than a cowhand?" she asked, turning to face him. "Who's more trustworthy? Good-looking? From a better background?"

  He matched her stance, looking right down on her. "None of those."

  Her head tilted to the side. "Then what?"

  He ran a hand over his beard. "Two years ago, while I was on my last mission, my uncle died. Carrie's ex-husband had been gone since before Scarlett was born. But all of a sudden, he showed up. Thought she stood to get a big inheritance and tried to pound it out of her. By the time he was done, she had a concussion, broken arm, and two busted ribs."

  It still made him sick to think about it. He'd been gone, and Carrie had been helpless.

  Alessandra touched him, cupped his elbow in one hand. Brought him back from that dark place when he'd been laid up in the hospital, barely able to move for his knee, knowing nobody was there to take care of his sister.

  "I think it's admirable that you want to be there for Carrie, but..." She bit her lip, looking down. "She is a grown woman. She can date—or marry—whomever she wants."

  He knew that. He just wanted her to pick a winner this time. And while he'd known Trey for years, he wasn't sure the hand was the right guy for his sister.

  He looked back to the cow, saw she was still in distress. "I've got to go in there and check her out."

  ALESSANDRA WATCHED Gideon hop the fence and move to the cow lying prostrate in the hay.

  "So now you've got the dish about Carrie. I want to know why your aunt is targeting your family."

  She shivered, burrowing deeper into the coat. "I've never met my aunt, and my father doesn't like to talk about her."

  "They don't get along?" He'd approached the cow's derriere and squatted there. From where she stood, she couldn't see exactly what he was doing.

  "My father has...some challenges. It isn't publicized, but he's battled MS for years. It's terminal, and he's getting worse every day."

  A few moments passed as he looked over the cow.

  "That must be hard," he finally said.

  It was. More so because she wanted things to be different. She'd hoped that being faced with his mortality would mean that her father would spend more time with her and her sisters. That she could get to know the man and not the king.

  But instead, he'd pushed each of the three girls to work harder for the kingdom in the name of family duty. He'd insisted on carrying out his duties as much as possible. Because most of the burden of her father's illness fell on Eloise, Alessandra often felt invisible to her father.

  There was a rush of fluid and blood and a little black body plopped into the hay near Gideon's feet. Gideon reached for clumps of hay and began rubbing, drying the little body.

  The calf floundered in the hay for moments, and then mama and baby both managed their feet, and Gideon backed slowly away.

  He returned to where she stood, hopping the fence again and standing elbow-to-elbow with her at the railing.

  Although he watched as the mama licked her baby all over, she knew Gideon's attention was still focused on her.

  "What about your security team?" Gideon asked. "Have there been any heightened threats lately? Phone calls to the palace? Letters?"

  She was ashamed that she didn't know. "Not that I've been briefed on."

  "No ex-boyfriends with an agenda?"

  She turned her head to meet his sideways glance straight on. "No ex-boyfriends." She'd had dates, sometimes multiple dates, but no one serious enough to call a boyfriend.

  Had he asked out of concern about the shooting, or was he fishing?

  She raised her brows at him. "What about you? Did your last girlfriend break your heart? There's no one special for you?"

  He frowned, eyes on the cow and calf. "I didn't date while on the Teams. It's hard on girlfriends not to know where your man is or if he'll come back. Hang on."

  He went back into the pen, approaching the mama and baby slowly.

  The cow bellowed at him, and he froze a few feet in.

  "What's wrong?" she whispered.

  "The calf should be suckling by now," he answered over his shoulder. "She's not helping it out. And she doesn't seem to want to let me get close."

  He didn't elaborate. He attempted to get close to the animals twice more, but the cow lowered its head when he neared, and he backed off, returned to the fence near Alessandra.

  She'd seen that thundercloud expression on his face before.

  "What will happen, then?" Alessandra worried aloud. "Will the calf—?"

  "If she rejects it, we'll likely end up bottle-feeding the thing. Which is a huge pain."

  His focus was still on the animals, and he didn't see the twitch of her lips.

  He might be gruff, but she was learning to see beyond it. He was soft enough to care if the calf lived or died, and not just for the money. He might complain about having to feed the calf, but she knew he would do it.

  He was just that kind of cowboy.

  CHAPTER 8

  O ver the next few days, Gideon watched as Alessandra seem to thrive in ranch life.

  With no further sign of anyone on their property, no noise from local law enforcement, and Cash assuring him that the reports they were getting didn't have Alessandra's whereabouts located anywhere near north Texas, he no longer kept her confined to the house.

  She spent hours in the barn, bottle-feeding the calf she'd dubbed Valentine.

  She cooked and cleaned up after the hands, no matter how much he chided her to do otherwise. Where, before her arrival, the hands had been rowdy and willing to let their appearance and behavior slide, they were more polite and cleaned up each night before supper. She'd changed them for the better.

  Once, he caught her watching a national news broadcast with a pensive look on her face, but other than that, she seemed content.

  He, however, was a boiling mess of emotions.

  He couldn't seem to keep himself from sneaking kisses. In the barn. After supper, while she corralled him to dry dishes for her. He found her addictive, especially when she smiled a secret little smile after he'd kissed her—a smile he hadn't seen her give to anyone else.

  He'd even trimmed his beard. He hadn't shaved it, because she seemed to like it.

  But all the while, he reminded himself that she wasn't here to stay, no matter how well she seemed to fit into his life.

  She was used to the jet-set lifestyle. Fancy parties. Events where she rubbed elbows with famous people.

  She would eventually marry a prince.

  Not an ex-Navy SEAL with a ruined knee and obligations that tied him to the family ranch.

  Somehow, he'd become uncomfortable in his own life as well. He needed to keep Alessandra safe. He'd accept
ed it as his own personal mission. So he left Nate with more responsibility, so he could scout their land and the neighbors close by.

  Though he'd relaxed a little, allowing Alessandra to the barn, he didn't trust that things had gone quiet. Every so often, he got that awful feeling down the back of his neck and shoulders, like someone was watching.

  Waiting.

  Biding their time.

  Like he'd do, if he was tasked with taking out the princess.

  It just made him more itchy, being out of the loop. Relying on the Glorvaird and New York enforcement agencies. Not being in on it.

  And he wasn't a patient man.

  Even through his distraction, the Triple H hadn't fallen down around their shoulders.

  Was Matt right that Gideon had stunted Nate's potential by taking on too much responsibility for the ranch duties?

  Worse, was Alessandra right that he'd done the same to Carrie? Had he kept his little sister from finding happiness because he'd been determined to fix every single thing that went wrong in her life?

  He didn't know how to manage all of that.

  He didn't know how to keep from getting hurt when Alessandra left. Where his place was, if it wasn't as the boss of the Triple H. Who needed him, if Carrie didn't? If he couldn't help Matt? If Nate could run the ranch without him?

  He was anchorless. A SEAL without a team.

  And then his phone rang.

  ALESSANDRA FELT Gideon's heightened tension at supper. Almost as if he was pulling away from her.

  After the meal, he drew her into the living room, leaving Matt and the hands behind at the dining table.

  His expression was deadly serious as he said, "Your head of security called. They're ready for you to come home to Glorvaird."

  She'd known it was coming, but the words were still unexpected. She wasn't ready yet. Valentine was only a few days old. And she was supposed to have lunch with Carrie on Friday.

  And Gideon...

  He was already heading for the door. "You'll want to pack up tonight. We'll leave early in the morning for the airport. They're sending you a new passport, which we'll pick up on the way."