by Tori Kayson
“Ouch.”
One glance her way, at the compassion softening her features, and he knew that she understood. “Yeah. It’s hard on the kid. Every day when he gets home from school, he never knows who will be waiting or who’s moved in with them. And then there’s the matter of how they treat him.” Like extra baggage they didn’t want or need.
Resentment clenched Hawk’s gut, burned. Why didn’t Brigit just let him take the kid off her hands? Then, she could enjoy any lifestyle she chose without subjecting their son to turmoil and worry. “He’s not liking the current live-in at all. I’m not sure what to do about that.”
“Have you discussed full custody with her?”
He nodded, tightening his grip around the stick. “She refuses. I don’t know if it’s because she likes the extra money from the child support or if she just wants to spite me.”
Whatever. This situation had gone on long enough. Too long, actually. Brigit might think she was hurting him, but those days were long gone. Her spiteful actions would ultimately affect her and Cody’s relationship, especially when the kid reached his teens and had a will of his own.
“I’m sorry.” Kierra reached out to him. Her fingertips grazed his forearm, her touch light as a butterfly’s kiss and darted off just as fast. But the look on her face? Like she truly felt bad about the situation.
“Yeah. Me too.” Frustration huffed from his chest.
Her forehead bumped the glass as she peered down. She winced and rubbed her head. “Fargo’s motioning. Must be time for a coffee break.”
Just as well. Before Hawk confessed that sorry didn’t begin to cover the mess he’d made. That regret kept him awake at night, remorse over discarding the love of the one woman and the family who’d ever made him feel loved, as if he belonged. But he couldn’t undo the mistakes of his past any more than he could convince Brigit to allow him full custody.
Or sway Kierra to allow him to stay.
10
So she hadn’t run off with the city boy after all.
Hawk had seen the two sneak away from the group, leaving the rest of them lazing around the campfire, complaining about full bellies from their last dinner and recapping highlights from the week. He’d just assumed they left together.
“Where’s the dude with the fancy boots?”
Kierra hunched over a washtub, suds up to her elbows. “Taking pictures of the group, incognito. He wanted some candid shots of our last night. You must be happy about that.” Her lips curved, shimmering with a rosy shine. Delicious looking.
He could live a week off that smile.
Happy that City Boy was nowhere near Kierra? Yes. Happy about this being their last night? The jury was still out on that. By tomorrow night he could be out of a job. Like a slap in the face, his mood soured.
“Depends.” He took one last greedy gulp of coffee then dumped the cooled remains in the bushes. Like he needed something else to keep him awake tonight.
Her smile dropped a fraction. “Well, at least you won’t have to cook for this crowd anymore.”
“I don’t mind. I enjoy cooking.” Especially if it meant keeping this job.
“Not so much the dishes, though, right?” The smile was back, wider, almost mischievous, prodding a curve to his own mouth.
What was up with her? She acted almost…kind. “Dishes go with the territory.”
“Well, you’ve covered for me too many times already. Take the evening off. I’ve got them under control.”
Completing her chores, anything to make her job easier, might’ve been the original plan. But at some point during the week he’d stopped thinking of it as work. Stealing a few precious moments alone with her became the highlight of his day.
Especially tonight. With the waning sunlight dancing across her face. With her fragrance, sweet and clean and fresh, lingering in the air along with the suds from the dish soap, making him close his eyes and inhale…wishes. When he almost dared to believe that second chances at a forever love really were possible.
She turned her attention back to the dishes. A loose braid of dark hair stretched halfway down her back, contrasted with her watermelon red blouse, and jeans hugged her slender legs. She swayed to some upbeat music he couldn’t hear, her movement mesmerizing. Magnetic. Drawing him closer as a lighthouse would a ship during a fog-drenched night.
And just as dangerous. She could turn off that fog lamp with a flick of her fingers and send him hurling toward the seawall. His life, his heart would shatter against the rocks, and then what could he offer his son?
Nothing.
Scrounging up all his willpower, Hawk shuttered his eyelids and nudged her with a hip, careful not to make her lose her balance on her injured ankle. “Go sit down. I got this. Your ankle needs the rest.” And after spending all day with her in the bird, he needed a break.
He’d never gotten over her. Not really. He’d shifted his allegiance for a season, but being back around her dredged up all those unresolved feelings.
But he wasn’t ready to deal with them. Might never be ready.
“My ankle rested all day in that chopper of yours.” She swiped an arm across her forehead. Suds plopped on her face.
Barely refraining from flicking them off her skin, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Since your brother hired me to be camp medic, it’s my job to decide—”
Splat.
He blinked. Did she just—
Splat.
He glanced down at the wet spot soaking his shirt.
Another splat. This time, landing on his head.
The suds dripping from his hair and dribbling down his neck did nothing to cool the heat blazing up his limbs. Did she realize she was flirting with fire?
Playful as a kitten, she bladed the water in the tub with her forearm, sending an entire wave to land on his shirt. Then, she hobbled away, giggling, as if she could outrun him with an injured ankle.
“Woman, you are so in trouble!” In two steps, he scooped her up in his arms, his heart thumping out a frantic rhythm.
Her palm flattened against his chest, but only for a nanosecond, before her fingertips slid up to the strap of his tank top, leaving a trail of hungry nerve endings behind. The giggles hushed, and her face softened. Her mouth opened and those shiny lips issued a welcome. Ultra-long lashes fluttered closed over coal black eyes, her hand curling around his neck and dragging his head down.
An invitation he refused to pass up, no matter what urgent message his brain kept flashing. Heaven help him, with no power left to resist her, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the moment.
He took his time. Giving more than taking. Wanting her to feel safe in his arms. Needing her to know that he was a better man now. Stronger, more in control.
But, then her tongue met his, colliding with an urgency and passion, unexpected, unrivaled, unbridled. Her fingers threaded through his hair then cradled his jaw, her touch soft and gentle as her hand slid down to play with the hairs on his chest…
Sweet. Heaven. Above.
Desire swelled and rushed like an angry tidal wave, ready to pound the shore. He tightened his grip on her, his tongue digging deep—
“Guess you two have found a way to get along after all.” The male voice barely registered Hawk’s consciousness.
He stilled. Shifted his mind off the beautiful, very desirable woman in his arms to their surroundings.
To the man with arms folded across his chest, studying them. Fargo?
Oh, man. Stifling a moan, Hawk disconnected from those delectable lips and lowered his forehead to hers.
To her credit, Kierra didn’t jump out of his arms. But maybe that had something to do with her labored breathing. Or because she couldn’t move that fast with an injured ankle.
Whatever the reason, she didn’t seem to mind where she was at the moment, content to stay in his arms. And he was mighty content to let her stay there.
Just then a flash lit up the space, blinding him. He blinked. What the—
Kierra gasped. Lightning was slow compared to how fast she disentangled from his arms, planted fists on those curvy hips and glared at Hawk.
As if he was responsible for the editor’s poor timing.
He licked his lips, lips she’d just kissed, and beseeched his boss silently for help.
Fargo only chuckled and took off in the direction of the horses. Why wasn’t she mad at her brother for interrupting that passionate embrace? Or at the editor, now heading to the bunkhouse, a definite swagger in his steps, for taking advantage of a private moment?
“How could you do that to me?” Her voice quivered. From anger or embarrassment? With arms crossed, she hugged herself as if the temperature had plummeted to twenty degrees while a wildfire raged inside of him.
“How could I do that to you?” He repeated the question, struggling to understand. How could that kiss have rocketed from slow and easy to major catastrophe in mere seconds? “In case you forgot, you started this party. And, woman, you were the one to rev my motor.”
“What!?” she sputtered.
If he knew what was good for him, no way would he allow his gaze to dip to her chest, rising and falling, swelling with every angry breath. No. Way.
“You heard me, sweetheart. Maybe you’re not so immune to me after all.” Had he really said that out loud? For the love of—
His cell phone vibrated against his thigh. Rotten timing, just like Fargo’s interruptions and City Boy’s paparazzi tactics. Snorting, Hawk reached into his pocket, dug it out. Closed his eyes and groaned at the name on the screen. Brigit.
“Excuse me. I have to take this.” He pivoted, intent on finding a little privacy, but twisted over a shoulder to glance at her, still hugging her middle, eyes hazy, lips swollen. He felt a small measure of satisfaction about that. “Don’t worry about the dishes. I will finish them.” Alone this time.
He took a couple steps and connected the call before Brigit hung up on him. “Rowe.”
“Are you back in town yet?”
This couldn’t be good. As if his heart hadn’t already had a thorough workout tonight, it galloped full speed again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying hard to stave off the building frustration. “Not yet. Tomorrow afternoon. Why? Something happen to Cody?”
“No. He’s fine.” She paused. Always the drama queen.
He waited her out, tapping the tip of his boot against a stump.
“We’re, um, moving.”
The laughter and the birdsong faded into the background while the cackling of the fire fired out like gunshots. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Her words hit their mark with deadly precision, slamming into his chest.
His son—
He couldn’t breathe. Pounded his chest with a fist. As if that would make his lungs function like normal.
Normal?
Shoot! Normal was shuffling around every few months. With this latest move, she hadn’t lasted a couple of weeks!
“Why?” As if he cared to know the reason, but that one word cost him precious oxygen. Bought him time.
“Jimmie lost his job.”
He closed his eyes. Moisture burned at the corners. “When?” the single word rasped from his throat.
“I’m not sure. He wants to leave soon, though.”
Of course he did, but not if Hawk could help it. His son didn’t want to leave soon, and that was all that mattered. Not Brigit. And definitely not that lazy, no-good boyfriend of hers.
Pinching the dampness, something fluttered around his shoulder. He jerked and angled around, swatted at the mosquito. But it turned out to be a hand.
Kierra’s.
Concern glimmered from her dark eyes, and questions. “You okay?” she mouthed.
He gulped. Took a deep breath. Was he okay? No. He might not ever be okay so long as Brigit had the power to cavort all over the country with his son. But that attitude wouldn’t do him any good, either.
His hand clamped the phone’s mouthpiece. “Yeah.”
Kierra blinked. She nodded once in acknowledgment but the questions remained. And the steady scrutiny.
Hawk turned around. Couldn’t bear the concern clinging like tiny dew drops on her lashes. He felt her hand drop away from his shoulder and dried leaves crunched behind him.
Good. Now she couldn’t witness his breakdown or hear the shakiness in his voice. But, with her gone, a chill stole over him, seeped clear down to his soul. He pressed the phone back to his ear. “I’ll be over tomorrow night. Don’t leave before we have a chance to talk.” His voice came out clear, authoritative. Surprising, considering how his legs shook.
“Not much to talk about.”
Maybe not on her end, but he had much to say. Especially to the slug trying to take his son away.
“A man’s gotta work. It’s a pride thing, you know?” Brigit’s tone turned defensive.
Hawk bit the words lingering on the tip of his tongue and opted for peace. “Just don’t go anywhere until I’ve had a chance to see Cody. Please.”
“Not making any promises, Hawk.”
The phone went dead. He held it out, stared at it, tempted to hurl it into the trees.
Promises. As if she’d ever kept one.
He didn’t have any room to talk. But his promise to his son was one he intended to keep.
****
What was that noise?
Kierra turned her ear toward the tent flap.
There it was again. A log being dumped in the fire? Judging by the crackles and pops, someone was out there in the darkness stoking the fire.
She surrendered all pretense of sleep. Why bother? She’d only shifted and rolled since climbing into her sleeping bag, the image of Hawk, his back to her, shoulders dejected and slumped, while he held the phone to his ear, haunting her for hours now even with her eyes closed. The vulnerability on his face, the moisture rimming the purplish hollows of his cheeks, rocked her to the core. Whatever news he’d received couldn’t have been good.
Reconciling this new version, the one who so obviously yearned to sink roots and provide a home for his son, with the carefree, live-for-the-moment Hawk who’d left her behind was creating havoc with her sleep.
She wiggled out of her bag and crawled to the opening of the four-person tent, careful not to disturb her sleeping tent mates, and tugged the flap back a fraction to peek outside.
Hawk.
No surprise there.
The campfire cast a yellow glow off Hawk’s face, painting a picture even more worrisome, even more troubled, than the previous one. As if the cowboy was fighting a war all by himself.
Should she go to him?
She glanced down at her nightclothes, a tank and soft jammie shorts, then skimmed the landscape around the fire pit to make sure he was alone. No one else stirred, so her attire should be acceptable. But would he just reject her comfort, like earlier?
What would it hurt except her pride? Could she get over another rejection?
She snorted. So, he’d kissed her. And she actually enjoyed it. Okay, more than enjoyed it. Like curl-her-toes and tingles-all-over-her-head enjoyed it. Big deal! What was she? Eighteen all over again?
He was in pain, anguished over some horrible news—what if it was about Cody?—and she was awake. How could she live with herself if she refused to offer a sympathetic ear? Just maintain a safe distance, a “no kissing’ zone, and she’d be all right. Yep. That, she could do. She tugged on her boots, shucked the flap back, and stepped outside.
The cowboy never looked up. His head stuck in that bent position, gaze locked on the fire.
She lowered herself to the ground next to him, a good foot of safety yawning between them, and smiled at his jolt of surprise. “Hey.”
“Hey. It’s late.” Scowling, Hawk angled his head toward the stars, then back to her. “Or early, actually. What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Looks like you had the same problem.”
He nodded, his troubled gaze sliding back to the fire. With elbows resting on his knees, he snapped twigs and tossed them into the flames.
The poor guy! Something really ate at his soul.
How could she comfort him from so far away? She scooted over a couple inches. Still in the safe zone because she could squeeze at least two hands between their hips.
His clean masculine scent drifted into her space. She lifted her nose and took a long sniff. Earth and woods and…coffee. Safe? Scratch that. But she couldn’t retreat now. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“No. Go back to bed.”
“Not happening.”
Silence.
She could wait him out. “I’m good with not talking too. I grew up with three brothers, remember? Outside of my mom and me chatting around the dinner table, it was mostly just grunts and forks clanging. Oh, and all the usual male gastro noises.”
He shook his head, and miracle of miracles, actually smiled.
She bumped his arm with her shoulder. A red flag flashed a warning to her brain that she’d scooted over yet again, but she ignored it and the spark of pleasure that firecrackered from her toes. A smile meant progress. “That’s better.”
His chest rose and fell, expelling a loud sigh. Now they were really getting somewhere.
“Brigit’s moving.” A tic pulsed in his jaw. “Again.”
Oh no! Poor Cody! Poor Hawk! “Oh, Hawk, I’m sorry! How awful to hear that news out on the range, not being able to go to your son.” Thoughts ricocheted in her head, but nothing else squeezed past her frozen lips. She rubbed her arms to chase away the sudden chill, and her teeth clacked together.
Hawk was leaving. Again.
“Come here.” He held out his arm, and she slid under it, burrowed against his side, her whole body a mass of trembles. “It’ll be all right.”
“That’s what I’m supposed to say.” But she couldn’t. Not now. Not when she’d just gotten used to him being in her life again. Actually liked him there.
Tucked under his arm, she felt his deep inhale. She curled one arm around his back and flattened a palm against his chest, the rapid thump of his heart and the warmth of his cotton T-shirt soothing.
