He washed his hands and forearms in the outdoor sink, then shook off the worst of the water before heading inside. Once in the house, though, he noticed all was quiet, the lights low. Had Uncle Ennis put Libby to bed, then? The man couldn’t get up the stairs with that big boot on his foot, though. Curious, he headed into the living area . . . and stopped.
Becca was still there on the couch, his daughter tucked in her arms. The TV was on, the volume muted, and she cradled the little girl against her as Libby slept, clutching her favorite book. He noticed that Libby had been changed into her favorite pink pajamas and her hair was freshly washed and fixed into two pigtails that looked much better than the pigtails he normally gave her. And before he could say anything, Becca looked over at him and smiled.
“She wanted to stay up to kiss her daddy good night,” she whispered. “I hope that’s all right.”
Hank nodded. There was a stupid knot in his throat, but it got there sometimes when it came to his baby girl. He went to pick Libby up and she immediately put her small arms around his neck.
“Night, Daddy,” she murmured, all sleepiness.
“Give me a kiss and let’s get you tucked into bed, all right?” he said as he took her up the stairs to her room.
Once Libby was tucked in and he made sure she was sleeping, he closed the door halfway—never fully, because she got scared of being alone—and moved back downstairs. As he did, he passed by the laundry room and noticed that the clothes that had been stacked to overflowing in the laundry baskets were now cleaned and neatly folded. He headed into the living room and noticed Becca was on her feet, her purse on her arm as she fought back a yawn.
“You did the laundry?” he asked, since he felt like he should say something.
She nodded. “I know you guys are busy right now. It was the least I could do. The laundry’s handled, but I think there’s still a load in the dryer.” She pointed at the kitchen. “You also had some bananas that were about to go bad so I made some banana bread. I thought it might be easy to grab on break. It’s sliced up and in the fridge.”
He ran a hand over his beard, a touch uncomfortable. They were busy, yeah, but he didn’t like to think of how much work she’d done that night, all without a word of thanks. “Appreciated,” he finally said. “You didn’t have to stay so late.”
Her smile was tired. “It is late, isn’t it? But Libby didn’t want to go to sleep until she knew you were coming in, and Doc’s foot was hurting him so I made him take his pain meds and go to sleep early. I just fed the puppies, so he should sleep for another two hours at least. Besides, I don’t mind.” She fought back a yawn. “My first appointment tomorrow isn’t until eleven, and walk-ins are slow this time of year.”
“Appreciated,” he said again, and then felt like a big dummy because he couldn’t think of anything else to say to her. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“What a gentleman.” Becca chuckled, the sound gentle and just a little bit raspy, and it made him think of far too many things that didn’t have anything to do with being gentlemanly. But he took her outside, opened the car door for her, and watched her drive off into the quiet night.
He didn’t know what to think of her.
He couldn’t stop thinking of her.
He might have eaten all the banana bread in one sitting. He wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew was that he pulled it out, poured a glass of milk, and ate slice after slice as he thought about Becca. By the time the bread was gone, he still had no answers . . . but he did have a raging hard-on. His thoughts had taken a distinctly dirty route, helped along by her mouth, her chuckle, the toss of her thick dark hair . . .
It took him a few minutes of pacing before the erection subsided. He wanted to crawl back into bed, but the knowledge that both Caleb and Jack were out there working made him check in on them first. He headed out to the barn again and found both of them sitting on hay bales near a pregnant cow, and they both smirked at the sight of him.
“That was her?” Jack asked. “The one that asked you out?”
Hank scowled. “Does it matter?”
“Hell yeah, it matters. I can’t believe you passed up on that. Did you see her figure?” He shook his head, marveling. “I think Alaska fucked your brain up. You should have been all over her.”
Caleb just grinned. “So, you going to ask her out now?”
Now? He snorted and gestured at the cow, whose sides were heaving. She’d be going into labor any time now, if she wasn’t already. “You don’t think we’re a little busy right now?”
Caleb waved that off. “When things slow down. You going to ask her out then?”
“Dunno.” Common sense told him no, to let it go, but then he thought about her smile and that raspy chuckle, and common sense seemed very, very far away.
CHAPTER FIVE
Becca set her alarm for four in the morning and yawned her way through a drive into town. Nothing was open except for the doughnut shop, so she loaded up on a few dozen to go with all the food currently in the back of her car. The local grocery was more of a mom-and-pop sort of place, so it wouldn’t be open for a few hours yet, and the guys were low on a lot of things. She figured she could help out, make a healthy breakfast for Libby and Doc and the guys, help feed the puppies, and then be in town to open her salon . . . and catch a quick nap in one of the chairs if she had to.
When she pulled up to the ranch, the sky was purple at the edge of the mountains, the sun just thinking about rising. As she got out of the car, she noticed Hank was off the porch and at her side before she could even get to the back seat of the car. He was nice, she decided, gruffness notwithstanding. And he looked . . . really tired.
She decided it was a good thing she was there this morning.
“You look like you haven’t slept in four days,” Becca told him brightly as she handed him the doughnut boxes and then opened the back seat of the car.
He grunted a response, then paused for a minute. “Why are you back?”
“Because you guys are swamped, Doc probably needs help with the puppies, and you probably need help with Libby.” She beamed at him and then pulled out a reusable grocery bag full of stuff she’d yanked from her pantry.
Hank immediately took it from her arms.
Aw. Such a gentleman. She liked that about him. Most guys she knew wouldn’t have thought to ask, and she wouldn’t have thought to suggest it. But Hank took bags out of her arms before she could even say a thing, and then he was loaded up and her hands were free. “I grabbed a few things to whip up for you guys. I hope that’s all right. Unless you’ve still got plenty of banana bread?”
He didn’t answer her, and when she looked over at him, she could have sworn his cheeks were slightly red.
Maybe he didn’t like bananas.
They went into the house in silence, and Hank set the groceries down on the table. She immediately started to put the food away while preheating the oven. The best thing she could do would be to make foods that they could grab easily on a quick trip into the house. Most cowboys spent all day out in the field and tended to grab food when they could anyhow, but it was worse in calving season, when cows would run off from the safety of the herd to give birth, or get sick, or any number of awful things. So . . . food that could be eaten quickly. She’d brought an entire box of protein bars and was going to make every kind of muffin she could think of. As she put on a pot of coffee, she glanced over at Hank, who was rubbing his eyes wearily as he watched her get to work. “Have the puppies been fed?”
He frowned, scratching his chin. “Don’t think so, but I’ve been too busy to keep track.”
Her heart squeezed. He looked exhausted. She was a little tired this morning, too, but she’d only had one night of little sleep and he’d probably had far too many. She moved to the table, grabbed him by his big arms, and parked him in the chair. “Stay there until the coffee’s don
e. I’ll check on your uncle.”
Ten minutes later, she was pleased to see that Doc was up, feeding the puppies, and his foot was hurting him less. She gave him strict instructions to go back to bed after the feeding and headed back to the kitchen to get started on baking. Hank was still there, sipping a cup of black coffee, and so she swept right past him and got to work.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said as she cracked a few eggs on the side of a bowl.
“Well, it’s a bit late now,” she joked. “Seeing as how I’ve got eggs in the batter already. Besides, it’s a premade mix and it’s just going to waste at my house. There’s no one there to eat all these delicious things but me, and if I eat any more, my butt will be the size of one of the cattle.” And she was having a hard enough time finding a date as it was.
Not that she usually paid particular attention, but she also knew if she put on weight, Greg would gloat about how she was falling apart without him, and she really, really didn’t want to give the man anything to use against her.
“I meant coming over. Cooking.”
Becca gave him a look over her shoulder. “You guys need help. Doc’s helped me before, so I don’t mind returning the favor. And it’s not like I’m busy at home. Ever since Gr—er, my ex—moved out, I don’t like being there by myself. It’s too quiet. No kids, and my parents moved to Vancouver about five years ago.” She shrugged. “It’s just been me for a while now. Do you like blueberries? I thought I’d start with blueberry muffins.”
“Why’d he move out?”
She focused her gaze on the mixture, stirring harder. She couldn’t look over at him. This was . . . he was testing her, right? Becca decided to laugh it off. “Oh, come on. I know Doc loves a good story. Surely he’s told you all about how Greg left me practically at the altar for the mayor? Well, she’s the mayor now, but she wasn’t then. They were just friends. It’s complicated.” She stirred harder, as if imagining Greg’s smug face and all the years she’d given him, all to be jilted right before her own damn wedding that she was paying for out of pocket because his paychecks were “irregular.” More like nonexistent.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” She turned and looked at him.
“Yes, I like blueberries.” He drained his coffee and moved to the coffeepot to pour himself another round. “And he sounds like an idiot.”
“Oh, he is.” Becca slapped at the batter even harder with the hand mixer. “It was one of those ‘high school sweetheart’ situations. Just because he was fun and charming in school doesn’t mean he was good at being a real adult. It took me far too long to figure that out.”
A hand covered hers.
Becca jolted, startled. The hand touching her was enormous, tanned, and hard with calluses. It also made her tingle in a million different ways.
“Muffins, not soup,” was all he said.
She snorted with amusement. “Sorry. I was just imagining Greg’s head.”
He chuckled—the first time she’d ever heard him laugh—and then moved away, and she couldn’t decide if she was dizzy that he’d touched her or sad that he’d stopped. Becca shook herself, then set the batter aside to grease up the muffin pan. “What about Libby’s mother? Can I ask about her?”
“No.”
Fair enough. She wasn’t insulted. Relationships that failed were personal wounds, for all that they left scars for the world to see. That didn’t stop her, though. “Speaking of Libby, who’s watching her today?”
“Me.”
Becca paused, a stick of butter in her hand, and glanced over at him. “You?”
“Me. Her father.” He chugged more coffee.
“She’s an energetic four-year-old and you’re a tired man with far too much on his plate already. I could hang out with her today while you work and hopefully get some rest.”
Silence met that offer.
She looked over at him, arching a brow. “So?”
“Why?”
“You really have to ask why?” She shook her head, going back to buttering the pan. “You’re dead on your feet, Doc’s got his hands full, and you and your brothers will probably have your hands in cow uteruses all day long.” She cast him a look. “My father owned a farm, you know. I know what calving season is like. It’s not really ideal for a four-year-old.”
“But being with you is?”
The way he stated it was more amusement than irritation, she decided.
“I’d like to think it would be fun. I can take her to the salon with me. We’ll stop and get some coloring books at the pharmacy, she can be my little assistant at the salon since it’s not busy, and we’ll take one problem out of your hair for the day. I can even take her up to the school and introduce her to the teachers if you like.”
That got a response out of him. “Teachers? Why?”
“The summer session of preschool will be starting in another month or so. Don’t you think it’d be good for Libby to get to know some of the other children in town? Make friends? It’s lonely as an only child. I speak from experience.” She gave him a wistful smile. “I never even had a dog.”
“You want a dog? There’s a whole bunch of them in Doc’s office,” he said dryly.
Was that a joke? She was winning him over, she knew it. Becca grinned, her heart fluttering as she looked up at him. Okay, if she trimmed that beard and the circles weren’t under his eyes, he’d be stunningly handsome. She itched to work on him, if only to run her fingers through his hair and touch his face. “I’m just trying to help out, Mr. . . .” It occurred to her that she didn’t know his last name. “Hank,” she finished.
“Mr. Hank?”
“I don’t know your last name.”
“Watson.”
“Mr. Watson, then.”
“Hank.”
“Mr. Hank,” she teased. “Since you insist.”
“You’re impossible,” he muttered. “Gimme your phone.”
Her hands were buttery. Becca gestured at her purse. “It’s in there. The passcode is 2343.”
The big cowboy rolled his eyes. “You’re too trusting.” He grabbed her phone, unlocked it after a few fumbled attempts, and scowled fiercely at it as he started to flip through something. It was clear he wasn’t a fan of typing on her small screen.
She tried to peek around him. “What are you doing?”
“Putting my number in. If you’re taking my daughter today, I want you to be able to call.”
“That’s a great idea.”
He tapped the screen a few more times and then gave her a curious look as she parceled batter into each of the cups.
“What’s that expression for?” she asked, and why was she having so much fun this morning despite being dead tired and arguing with a stranger? Yet, she was. She felt alive, which was weird. She was also flirting, which was equally weird.
“Your ex is still in your phone,” he drawled.
“That’s personal!” A hot flush stained her cheeks, and she tried to grab the phone away from him, buttery hands or not.
He held it out of her reach. “I wasn’t snooping or anything. ‘G’ for ‘Greg’ is right next to ‘H’ for ‘Hank,’ you know.”
Oh. Well, he didn’t need to know that Greg still called her sometimes. Or that the calls normally came after nine at night on the weekend. Or that she even answered—not that she’d accepted. She knew what a booty call was and she wasn’t going to be that man’s personal vagina. He’d hurt her too badly for that. “Maybe I just haven’t deleted him out of my phone yet.”
“Want me to?” He arched one of those thick black brows at her, a silent dare in his gaze.
“Go ahead.” She lifted her chin, daring him back.
Hank grunted again, tapping at the phone. “He looks like a tool.”
Becca giggled at that, feeling a little better. T
he photo attached to Greg’s info in her phone wasn’t a good one, and for that, she was viciously glad. “Just put your number in already. And a picture, too.”
“Why?”
She was starting to get used to his one-word comments. “Because I said so.”
He grunted again, and she went back to pouring the batter. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling as the camera went off on the phone a moment later. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Now I need your number. Same reason.”
She rattled it off to him as he typed into his own phone.
“Look up.”
Feeling suddenly shy, Becca glanced up and gave him a sheepish smile as he took a picture.
So . . . that was a thing they did.
* * *
* * *
Libby was a fantastic assistant, Becca decided.
The kid was nonstop energy, of course, but she was also nonstop fun. She talked constantly, and even when things were slow at the salon, Libby made it fun. She played paper dolls with Becca’s old hairstyle magazines, cutting out women and pasting them to a poster board she’d picked up at the pharmacy when Becca had realized all the coloring books at the pharmacy were nothing Libby would like. And, sure, Libby’s collage looked like something a serial killer might have done, but the little girl was having a fantastic time. When clients came in, Libby grabbed the hand broom and dustpan and swept for Becca, and her small face was so serious that Becca took a few photos and sent them to Hank throughout the day.
Not that he’d answered, of course. She didn’t expect him to. She just wanted to share the cuteness.
At the end of the day, she closed the salon and stopped by the bakery for leftovers, and then they headed to the grocery store to pick up a few more things for the house. By the time they got back to the ranch, Libby was half asleep in her car seat and Becca was, too. This time, all she did was drop off the food with a promise to be back in the morning to cook it, smile at a dirty, tired Hank, and kiss Libby’s cheek good night.
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 5
