Colt

by Duncan Leigh

  “Tomorrow? Can we come back tomorrow?”

  Colt lowered the little girl to her feet and tickled her belly. “Maybe not tomorrow, Little Bit. I have work to do.” When Bree’s features clouded over, he sank to his knees. “Next, we’re gonna see your new house. Tomorrow after supper, if it’s okay with your mom, I’ll take you for a ride on a horse.”

  Her daughter’s body slammed into Emma’s thighs. “Please, Mommy. Please, please, can I?”

  Nodding, Emma turned away so neither of them would notice the sheen of tears in her eyes. The man might be bossy and arrogant, but Colt, with his kind heart and solid values, would make a wonderful influence in her daughter’s life. But the man who could steal her heart just as easily as he’d stolen her breath was leaving. After the first of the year, he’d return to his rootless life with the rodeo. A life she wanted no part of.

  Taking the coward’s way out, she left Colt to cajole her daughter into the Rhino while she finished folding the blanket. Her thoughts were still a jumbled mess when she slipped onto the front seat. The vehicle dipped to the side as Colt slid behind the wheel.

  While he drove, she drank in the stark beauty of land that rolled to the horizon broken only by the occasional palmetto or pine tree. In less than a week, she’d fallen in love with the Circle P. And if she were honest with herself, she’d admit she’d fallen for the man on the seat beside her, too.

  Emma didn’t say much on the ride back, but Colt wasn’t worried. From the horror stories his married friends told of house-hunting trips, he supposed she was two parts excited and one part anxious about her new home. Not that she had anything to worry about. The sturdy cottage had been his parents’ before they moved into their spacious suite in the main living quarters. Built from concrete blocks, it had survived countless hurricanes with barely a scratch.

  “It’s not the Taj Mahal,” he admitted, pulling onto the driveway that was little more than a flattened strip of crabgrass. A carport jutted out from the house like one of the horn buds on the calf Bree called her new, bestest friend. He stopped beneath the awning of corrugated fiberglass, where he let the engine idle just long enough to treat himself to a glance of Emma’s shapely legs.

  “Don’t worry ’bout the yard. I’ll have one of the guys throw down some seed.” He lifted his gaze to study bare patches of gray sand. It’d take a ton of fertilizer before his cows would bother busting a fence to get at the so-called grass. “On second thought, we’ll sod it. I bet Sarah will part with some of her orchids and other flowers when she gets back. Won’t be long before the place is fixed up all pretty.”

  To his surprise, Emma waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t bother. I doubt I’ll spend enough time here to justify the effort.”

  His stomach knotted. “Leaving so soon?”

  An odd look flitted across her face. After a pause that lasted a split second too long, she gave her head a shake that was only somewhat reassuring.

  “Most mornings, I’ll need to be in the kitchen by sunup,” she explained. “It’ll be dark before I get back. It doesn’t make sense to waste time and materials on a yard when no one’s going to be here to enjoy it.”

  He’d have sworn there was more to her story but she had a point. A quarter mile from the main building, the little bungalow really wasn’t much more than a place to lay her head at night.

  When the thought of Emma in bed stirred an entirely different interest, he pictured them walking home hand in hand at the end of the day, then hanging out for a few hours before they disappeared down the hall to the bedroom. But something about the image didn’t work, and he stopped himself. A long trek after an exhausting day in the Circle P’s kitchen? Yeah, that was exactly what the doctor hadn’t ordered. Especially when it meant slapping mosquitoes and dodging the local wildlife along the way.

  Besides, there was Bree to consider.

  Troubled, he swept his hat from his head and shoved a hand through his hair. Once school started, all the youngsters on the Circle P would catch the bus at the end of the road each day, but what about summers and holidays?

  He’d never spent much time around kids, but even he knew that leaving a four-year-old alone in the house wasn’t a good idea. And wrenching Bree from her bed before dawn every morning didn’t sound much better. Stuck with a plan he wouldn’t have chosen, he stretched his legs as he got out of the Rhino.

  “This house is yours for as long as you want. The boys have worked hard all week to get it ready.” He thought it best not to mention the years’ worth of spare equipment, tools and supplies they’d hauled out of the place. With Bree trailing in their wake, they stepped into the freshly painted living room.

  “Whew!” Even he had to admit the paint fumes and the heat were a bit much. He strode to the thermostat, where he moved the selector to a spot somewhere between frigid and bone-chill. Outside, the ancient air handler Garrett had tinkered with roared to life. From the vents in the ceiling came the faintest breath of overheated air. A stink of mildew swirled into the room.

  A curse formed on Colt’s lips but he caught it before it spilled into little ears. He crossed to the windows and pried them open.

  “It’ll be better when the house airs out some,” he apologized.

  Emma swiped a light sheen from her forehead. “How hot does it get in the summer?” she asked with a half laugh. She brushed a few flecks of blown insulation from a rickety end table.

  “I had the guys bring some stuff out of storage.” He frowned at a lumpy couch that didn’t look nearly as inviting as the leather sofa where he and Emma had traded kisses that morning. Down a short hall, he grimaced when Bree’s bedroom door squeaked open.

  The little girl peered tentatively from the doorway. “I like my room now better.” She slipped her hand into Emma’s.

  Out of the mouths of babes. Colt scanned four bare walls that held all the appeal of a prison cell. His shoulders sagged.

  Clearly trying to make the best of the situation, Emma broke in. “How ’bout if we paint the room a different color? Maybe pink? Or yellow?”

  Bree’s thumb found its way into her mouth.

  His confidence flagging with every step, Colt showed Emma her room, noting the swallow she took before she pronounced it great. There wasn’t enough elbow grease in the world to completely strip fifty years’ worth of wax from the worn linoleum.

  “Can we see the rest?” Blinking rapidly, she backed out of the room.

  The Formica-topped table in the breakfast nook had to be forty years old if it was a day. Though Emma did her best to conceal it, he caught her quick, dismayed gasp when she spotted dials on an electric stove manufactured long before the digital age. Frost clung to the icebox in an ancient refrigerator. Suddenly parched, he started to get himself a drink of water. Rust stains in the sink convinced him to come up with a better idea.

  He squared his shoulders, his decision made. No matter what his parents’ intentions, or what Luke and Sarah had in mind, they’d put him in charge of the Circle P. As such, he had a say in who lived where. And this—he took in the kitchen that needed far more than a lick and a promise—wasn’t fit for Emma and Bree.

  “You know what?” He swung Bree up in his arms.

  “Now that my brothers have gone, there are plenty of spare rooms in the main house. You two should stay there. When Luke and Sarah come back, I’ll talk to them about making different arrangements.”

  Relief spread over Emma’s face. It disappeared almost before Colt registered it.

  “We can’t put you out like that, Colt. For better or worse, this is what I agreed to when I accepted the contract your dad sent me.”

  “You deserve better,” he growled. Balancing Bree on his hip, he pulled Emma close. “Let me make sure you get it. Till then, you can stay right where you are.” A half dozen small houses dotted the Circle P property. He’d pick the best one and give it a major overhaul.

  “In your room?” Emma struggled out of his grasp. “That’s not right, either.”r />
  He shrugged. “It’s only temporary. I can move into Mom and Dad’s suite, or even—” he gestured “—here.”

  When he thought about it, moving to the little house wasn’t such a bad idea. Being around Emma stirred an itch he wouldn’t be able to deny for very long. Unless he was seriously mistaken, she felt the same way, too. Which meant, sooner or later, they’d wind up in bed together. But that was something he figured she didn’t want any more than he did. Least ways, not until they knew where they were headed.

  No, he shook his head, it’d be better for all of them if he was the one to move.

  Refusing to argue the point, he shepherded them back through the living room and out the door. Once they were safely away from the house, he whipped out his phone. “Josh, let’s get that air-conditioning guy out here this afternoon. Have him install a whole new unit in the little house.”

  He could deal with the rickety furniture, the rust-stained water, the bare white walls. But if he was going to move in, he needed ice-cold air. Thinking about Emma—in his bed or not—already had him in a sweat. He couldn’t deal with that and the heat, too.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” Emma gave in to a last-minute shiver of doubt. “You don’t have to.”

  Bree gazed up at her as if her mom had suddenly sprouted an extra head. “I been wanting to do it my whole life.”

  “All four years of it, huh?” Kids. Who knew they could be so dramatic. Or patient, for that matter. While Emma had prepared dinner this afternoon, Bree had only asked how long it would take Colt to finish his chores a dozen times. Or was that two? She’d lost count somewhere around one o’clock.

  After that, moving Bree into a room of her own had helped. Her daughter had spent at least an hour arranging her dolls just so on a shelf in what used to be Randy’s room. Still, it had taken all her parental tricks and then some to keep the child occupied until Colt finally knocked on the kitchen door at sunset.

  “Yes, Mommy.” The brim of Bree’s miniature Stetson bobbed up and down in time with her solemn nod. “I’m gonna be a real cowboy.”

  “Cowgirl,” Emma corrected. She grinned at the shiny red boots Colt had unearthed from a trunk in the attic. “Sounds like you’re ready, then.”

  As Colt led Star from the barn, the four-year-old scrambled to the top rail. Emma slipped an arm around her daughter’s waist to keep the little girl from bolting into the corral. Beneath her hand, Bree’s body practically throbbed. Not that Emma could blame her. She felt a little anxious herself.

  Well over six feet tall and solidly built, Colt had always impressed her with his strength and size. Yet, Star’s long head rose above his. Four large hooves, perfect for kicking little girls, plodded through the sand. The idea of letting her baby get anywhere near the big animal suddenly didn’t seem like the smartest move. Torn, she swung back to Bree.

  Canceling the child’s first horseback ride would break her daughter’s heart. But what if her little girl fell? What if she kicked and screamed and started a stampede?

  A stampede? It was only one horse. Now who was being dramatic?

  Emma swallowed past the lump in her throat. Take a breath, she told herself. To steady her nerves, she focused on the rancher who’d sworn he’d keep her daughter safe. Colt had earned a powerful physique through years of hard work and bull busting. More important, the man didn’t make idle promises. If he said he’d keep Bree from harm, he would. Pure and simple.

  She watched her daughter slip a tiny hand into the rancher’s larger one. So much trust glowed in the little girl’s dark eyes that it made Emma feel all soft and warm inside. She gulped. If she didn’t watch out, she’d lose herself to the man she’d once practically accused of being an arrogant bully. Safeguarding her heart would be so much easier if she’d been right about that first impression. But Colt had another side. A tender side. A side that had won her over, despite frequent reminders that love and forever weren’t cards in the hand they’d been dealt.

  She’d spent a lifetime waiting for a man like Colt. His kisses made her feel alive. His touch played with her senses. His low voice toyed with her emotions so much she’d even considered sleeping with the man just to get it over with. But she sensed that making love to Colt would be like eating a single potato chip. Though people swore they could stop after just one, no one had the willpower to walk away.

  She was pretty sure she didn’t.

  So, no. There’d be no sleeping—or not sleeping—with Colt. Not now. Not ever.

  It was the best way, the only way, to keep from falling in love with the man.

  Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.

  “Look at me, Mommy! I’m riding!” With Colt’s strong arms wrapped around her, Bree waved from her perch astride Star.

  Thankful for dark sunglasses that hid her watering eyes, Emma summoned a smile. She waved and quickly pointed the camera. She’d had those two arms around her own waist. She knew the strength in them. Better still, she knew how much Colt cared for her daughter.

  “Do you see me, Mommy? Are you watching?”

  Emma lassoed her wandering thoughts. Her fears that Bree might overreact and cause a problem were proven groundless by the little girl who hung on Colt’s every word. The child who often displayed the attention span of a gnat grew even more focused with every trek around the corral. That didn’t stop Emma from holding her breath when Colt turned the reins over to the child, but Bree handled them as if she’d been guiding a horse all her life.

  The sun’s last rays reflected off golden clouds by the time Colt lifted Bree from the saddle. He doffed the little girl’s hat and sent the beaming child toward the gate. Seconds later, Bree rushed into Emma’s outstretched arms.

  “This is the best day of my life!” her little drama queen gasped. “Did you see me? Can I see the pictures? Can I? Can I?”

  “I’m so proud of you.” Emma aimed a kiss for Bree’s cheek and missed, landing it on the little girl’s nose. “We’ll play the video on the TV before you go to bed tonight.”

  From the far side of the corral, Colt inclined his head. “Daylight’s wasting,” he called.

  Pressed into babysitting service, Josh pushed away from the rail where he’d been watching with Chris and Tim. He moseyed over and leaned down to Bree.

  “You know, there’s an owl in the barn. She’s made her nest up in the rafters. If we’re real quiet, we might get to hear the baby owls chirping.”

  Bree stared up at him. “We had pigeons where I used to live. I got to feed them,” she said importantly.

  “Columbidae.” Josh nodded. “We don’t have a lot of those here, but we have other kinds of birds. Flamingos and spoonbills and ibis and…”

  “You know a lot about birds, Josh?” Emma interrupted before Bree lost interest.

  The young man’s ears pinked. “Yeah. It’s kind of a passion. Mr. Luke, he likes ’em, too. I showed him the best nesting areas. We’re gonna camp out there for the Audubon Society’s bird count next winter.”

  So the boy was a budding ornithologist. She wondered if Colt knew.

  “Can we see Maize’s puppies, too?” Bree tugged on her new friend’s hand.

  “Sure,” Josh agreed. “Now that their eyes are open, you can hold one of them. If you’re real gentle.”

  “I will be,” Bree promised.

  Under the careful watch of the two kitchen assistants and Josh, Bree skipped toward the barn while Emma stepped into the corral. Sand shifted over the tops of her sneakers and, within seconds, she understood why everyone on the ranch wore boots. But any thought of shopping for a pair disappeared when she peered up into Colt’s face in the fading light.

  It wasn’t just the thought of taking her first horseback ride that had her heart tripping over itself. A desire to trail her fingers along the stubble that graced his firm jaw stirred within her. She wrenched her gaze away from deep-set eyes to study the perfect lips that were mouthing instructions.

  The horse. Yeah. She was
here to ride a horse. It took some doing but she whipped her attention to the matter at hand.

  Grasping a handful of reins the way Colt showed her, she hoped she didn’t look nearly as awkward as she felt when she stuck one foot into the stirrup. Colt’s hands at her waist boosted her confidence enough that she gritted her teeth and bounced into the air. And then, just like that, she was up. Her leg cleared the horse’s wide rump. Leather creaked and the saddle shifted ever so slightly as she swung her way into it. She stabbed her free foot into the other stirrup before she looked down.

  “Whoo!” she gasped as the realization that she was so high atop a living, breathing animal sent a wave of vertigo crashing over her. She clutched the pummel with two hands. “I don’t know about this…” she began.

  Before she could finish, Colt swung onto the blanket behind the saddle. His torso pressed against her back, sending an electrifying current straight through her. She heard the sharp intake of his breath, felt the slight tightening of his forearms and knew he felt the same thing.

  Colt cleared his throat. Rather than leaning down to kiss her as she hoped he would, he clucked gently at the horse. Star moved at once. The animal’s rolling gate startled a laugh out of her chest. Soon, though, she was mesmerized by the horse’s gentle sway, the jangle of metal, the plodding sound Star’s hooves made despite the loose sand.

  “I could get used to this,” she breathed.

  “Our horses are well trained.” Colt’s matter-of-fact answer whispered through her hair. “That doesn’t mean they won’t try to get away with something every once in a while, so you need to know what you’re doing when you’re around them.”

  Though her hands felt like they were all thumbs, he gave her the reins. “Horses’ mouths are sensitive. A gentle tug is all that’s necessary to tell them the way you want to go.”

  She was sure she’d fail. Sure the big horse wouldn’t listen to a single word she said, much less a tug on the reins. But Colt believed she could do this, and once again, she reminded herself how much she trusted the big rancher. With his fingers at her waist he talked her through a series of figure eights. To her growing amazement, Star responded to her every command.