Her Cowboy Hero (The Colorado Cades)

by Tanya Michaels

  “You certainly do make some interesting choices about men,” Patricia said with a glint in her eye.

  With an inward sigh, Hannah admitted to herself that she’d likely alienated her best client. On the bright side, once you start booking guests, you’ll be too busy to fill all of Patricia’s special-order demands anyway. She’d called twice this week to change her mind about frosting colors for the shower cakes.

  Hannah gave her a wide smile, eager to see her on her way. “Need any help getting your cakes to the car?”

  It wasn’t until Patricia was driving off that Hannah asked herself the obvious question. Why had she antagonized Patricia in Colin’s defense? She filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove, mulling over the situation as she retrieved a box of assorted tea bags from the pantry. As drawn to Colin as she was, she had no idea what he’d done or hadn’t done up until now. Before yesterday, she hadn’t even known he had a sister. She didn’t know what had happened to his parents. Or who Danny was.

  Maybe a woman? Dani could be short for Danielle.

  The front door banged open and Colin called into the house, “Whoever just left was driving like a maniac. She almost mowed me down.”

  “Don’t worry, I think she fired me, so it’s doubtful she’ll be back,” Hannah answered. Should she tell him the driving might not have been lunacy so much as purpose? Patricia seemed to dislike him strongly.

  His boots clacked against the faux hardwood in the living room, then he appeared in the doorway, his expression pensive beneath the brim of his hat. “We need to talk.”

  Did he mean about what had happened last night? She clutched the box of tea tight enough to dent the cardboard. “I’m listening.”

  “You might need to think about selling your bull.”

  “Huh?” It took her mental gears a minute to make the shift, but even once she refocused on the topic at hand, she was confused. Bulls had to be replaced, on average, every five years to avoid defects in the herd caused by inbreeding, but she should still have another couple of years before she did that.

  “Last week, he was warning off Henry and me, showing us his side, pawing the ground, tossing his head. Today, he tried to kick me. Luckily, I’ve got good reflexes. It’s not unheard of for bulls to be a little ornery, but he could be a threat to your and Evan’s safety.” He said the words fiercely. It called to mind the other times he’d been not only anxious for her safety but seemingly angry. His reaction was always disproportionate to the supposed “danger.”

  Something had happened to someone he loved. More recently than his parents.

  “Who’s Danny?” The words blurted out with no premeditation, and the blood drained from his face.

  He swallowed hard. “My son. Danny was my son. He...died in the same car accident that killed my wife.”

  Oh, God. Sorrow washed over her. She both understood yet simultaneously couldn’t imagine what he’d endured. No wonder he had trouble embracing optimism. If anything ever happened to Evan...

  “I am so sorry.”

  “I was working. I wasn’t with them. It was about two years ago.” The words were awkward and mechanical, as if he were simply spitting out facts because he didn’t know what else to say.

  “And you’ve been on the move ever since?” Patricia had insinuated he couldn’t keep a job. More likely, he’d been running from his pain.

  “No, I stayed close to family. Arden was so torn up, I didn’t feel right about leaving Cielo Peak. Then she got pregnant and I promised to stay until the baby was born. It reached a point when I couldn’t take it anymore, though. People say it gets better with time, but being in our hometown... Anyway. Now I’m here.”

  Not for long. They both knew that. Would he be able to heal drifting from one place to the next, without a support system? The Reeds and the Whites were invaluable to her. Maybe if Colin stayed somewhere long enough, he’d—

  But that wasn’t for her to decide. Opening the Silver Linings B and B was her dream, her fresh start, not his.

  The only sound in the tensely silent kitchen was bubbling. “Your water’s boiling,” he said.

  “I was making tea to go with lunch.” She turned the dial to shut off the stove burner, then stretched on tiptoe to reach a bottle at the back of a cabinet. Forget the tea. In a completely uncharacteristic move, she poured a shot of whiskey into a glass tumbler, then quirked an eyebrow at Colin.

  He opened his mouth as if to refuse, but then nodded. She set a second glass on the counter and poured another shot.

  “In memory of those no longer with us,” she said.

  He stepped forward to take his glass and clinked it against hers.

  The whiskey seared a hot path straight to her middle. Her eyes watered. “Wow.”

  “Been here a week, and I’ve already driven you to day-drinking.” Colin set his emptied glass on the island. “That can’t be a good sign.”

  She put the whiskey back in the cabinet. “I don’t plan to make a habit of it, so you’re off the hook.” He seemed quick to take responsibility for things that weren’t his fault. Did he blame himself for not being with his wife and child? “Are you hungry?” Food was a time-honored response to grief. She had the sudden urge to make him a giant pan of macaroni and cheese, but it would be a lot quicker to reheat some homemade ham and lentil soup.

  “I guess I could eat.”

  “Colin? I won’t pry, but if you ever want to talk...When Evan was born, I tried to put aside all the Michael stuff. I couldn’t cope with that and deal with a newborn at the same time. When Annette and I became friends, it all came pouring out, and it was such a relief.” It had been like facing a horrible fear and realizing it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d dreaded. She was able to answer Evan’s questions about his daddy without bursting into tears, was able to remember good times fondly instead of trying to ignore them as if they’d never existed.

  “I appreciate the offer.” But he had no intention of taking her up on it, judging from his tone.

  She changed the subject. “That woman who was here earlier? Patricia Loomis, Gideon’s mother.”

  He made the same expression she would have made if she’d stepped in cow manure. It almost made her smile.

  “Seems she knows the McCoys,” she said neutrally. “Just as a heads-up, Patricia also knows everyone in Bingham Pass, so there’s a chance she might mention a dumb rumor about you and Mrs. McCoy.”

  “Good thing I’m not staying in Bingham Pass, I guess.” He leaned against the counter, regarding her curiously. “You said ‘dumb rumor.’ You don’t believe it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Thank you for that. Even my own brother double-checked with me to make sure it wasn’t true. You’d think the numbskull would know me better than that,” he grumbled.

  Conversation turned to cattle while she warmed the soup and chopped veggies for quick side salads. Colin said he’d take care of “worming” the cows before he left next month and again urged her to consider replacing the bull. They talked about the considerations she should make and questions she should ask when buying a bull.

  She shook her head, feeling as if she should be taking notes. “And I thought buying a new car was complicated.”

  He helped her carry bowls of hot soup to the table and, as he always did, removed his hat when he sat at the table. They didn’t talk much during lunch, but with eating to distract them, it wasn’t an awkward silence. And they both needed to get to other chores. She planned to work in the garden, and he wanted to reinforce some pasture fence.

  “If I have time, I’m going to get started on Evan’s house this afternoon.”

  It was a bittersweet thought, now that she knew he should be building a playhouse for his own son. But she kept her tone upbeat. “He’ll be thrilled. We’re both really grateful for everything you’re doi
ng.”

  “You’re paying me,” he reminded her wryly. “Even if you weren’t, I’d probably be willing to do the work in exchange for just the food.” He rose from his chair, plopping his hat back on his head. “Thank you for lunch, Hannah. You’re a good...”

  “Cook?” she supplied when he trailed off, a bemused look on his face.

  “Friend.” He sounded mystified by the word, as if he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made one. “You’re a good friend.”

  * * *

  IT WAS A GOOD thing Colin spent so much time doing manual labor, because he couldn’t remember having ever eaten as well as he did at Hannah’s. At least, not since his mom had died. His father’s official cause of death was heart failure, but it had seemed to Colin and Justin that their dad had simply given up on life after losing the woman he loved. Colin could empathize, but his dad’s unwillingness to fight harder had ticked him off. What about the three kids who’d needed him? Once Colin had run the household, most of their dinners had come from the microwave.

  Tonight, Hannah had served homemade garlic bread and a lasagna she’d called the secret weapon in her “nutrition arsenal.” While Evan had been washing his hands before dinner, Hannah bragged about the veggies she snuck in amid the layers of pasta and cheese. Now that the dinner dishes had been cleared, she was reading Evan a bedtime story while Colin sat at the kitchen table with her laptop, finally making time to look at Justin and Elisabeth’s gift registry.

  There were a few whimsical items on the list that made him wonder if they’d taken Kaylee, Elisabeth’s adopted daughter, to the department store with them. It was weird to think of his younger brother, the formerly confessed commitment-phobe, as a father. But there was no question Justin had grown to love Kaylee and would be a great dad and husband.

  Colin braced himself, waiting for the dark anger to rise, the bitter rage that he was no longer either. But it was getting easier to separate his loss from his genuine happiness for his brother. Justin and Arden deserved their hard-won happily-ever-afters. At times, Colin had felt he’d been the luckiest of the three of them because he’d had the most years with their parents, the most normal childhood.

  “All right, so what are we thinking?” Hannah’s cheerful voice came from behind him. “Guest towels? Standing mixer? Pillow shams?”

  “You do know it’s weird that you sound downright giddy about those things, right?” Did her enthusiasm stem from growing up in other people’s houses, dreaming of the day she’d have a home of her own? The way she talked about decorating this place, it was as if she wanted every curtain panel and sofa cushion to be just right, to match a picture she’d been carrying in her head. Would the reality live up to her dreams?

  That was the problem with hope; its flipside was disappointment.

  She pulled up a chair next to him, and he saw she’d changed clothes after tucking Evan into bed. There was nothing revealing or inherently alluring about the polka-dotted flannel pants she wore or the pale pink sweatshirt. But he couldn’t help noticing she was braless beneath the soft material. That discovery was more distracting than it should have been.

  He abruptly lowered his gaze. “What the...” Her slippers had tails.

  She wiggled her feet, showing off the cow slippers. “Aren’t they great? They were a going-away present from some neighbors in Colorado Springs. To wish me luck as a cattle baron.” Her dimples appeared. “Well, baroness. Lucky for you, all baronesses are born with exquisite taste.” She waved her hand as if giving a royal decree. “Scroll away.”

  They looked through several pages of items, none of which felt quite right to Colin. Arden’s mini lecture had obviously hit home. It felt coldly impersonal to send his only brother bath mats or a lamp. Hannah offered a compromise that included gifts Elisabeth and Justin had requested while still doing something that showed more thought than simply clicking an on-screen item.

  “You can do a play on picnics,” she suggested. “They want eight of those china plates. Buy two of those and that pair of wineglasses.” She pointed. “Then you can get the pretty throw blanket that was on the last page and put it all together in a basket. Rather, your sister can, if we have it shipped to her and she doesn’t mind. Voilà—elegant living room picnic! A perfect date night when you can’t find a sitter and need something romantic at home. In fact, hold on...”

  She took the mouse from him and opened a new window, browsing outside the registry. A few minutes later, she’d found a trio of ornamental candles that coordinated with the stuff they’d already selected.

  “Nice touch,” he said. “You really do have a good eye for this.”

  “The registry made it easy. It showed us what colors they’re using and what their tastes are.”

  Sure, it wasn’t rocket science, but he’d always been terrible at shopping. He prioritized function over form. The females in his life hadn’t always appreciated that. “I bet you’d get along with Arden. She’s a photographer, all about space and light and color. When Natalie and I got married, Arden was our unofficial interior decorator.” He was surprised his wife’s name slipped out so naturally. But it felt right. For the past fifteen minutes, they’d been discussing Elisabeth and Justin’s upcoming marriage. Mentioning his own was a logical progression.

  Tentative but feeling unexpectedly liberated, he elaborated. “Arden and Nat were best friends, practically their entire lives. Whenever the two of them got together on a project, it was best to just stay out of their way. I worried about dating Natalie at first, since she was Arden’s friend and younger than me. But once she got it in her mind that we belonged together, she wasn’t shy about pursuing me.”

  She’d been a real dynamo, not intimidated by obstacles or setbacks.

  He turned to Hannah. “She would have liked you. You’re both very determined women.” Natalie had been stubborn in a brassy, unmistakable way. With Hannah’s dimples and mouthwatering array of baked goods, she was less obviously mule-headed. One could misread her sweetness as mild-mannered, but that would be a superficial conclusion. Only a relentlessly tenacious woman could accomplish what she was attempting.

  “I take that as the highest compliment,” she said, sounding pleased.

  “Good. That’s how I meant it.”

  He returned his attention to the laptop. They looked at baskets, checking the dimensions to make sure all the proposed gift items would fit inside, and Colin found himself volunteering more information he hadn’t expected. He spoke softly at first, as if they were in a library. Or a church. “The only room I ever had much hand in decorating was the nursery. Natalie and I did that together.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Two. He’d be Evan’s age now.”

  She reached atop the table and squeezed his hand, the way she had last night. He stared at their fingers, his so dark and rough against hers, until the worst of the ache eased.

  “After the funeral,” he continued, “when my siblings finally left and I was alone in the house, I thought that room would be the worst to face. So I didn’t. I shut the door and never went in. In the end, it wasn’t the nursery that drove me to putting the house up for sale. It was the double vanities in the master bathroom. I had my mirror and sink, Nat had hers. Every damn time I brushed my teeth or shaved, there was her side. Empty. She used to gargle mouthwash really loudly and in odd rhythms to make me laugh. And before we went out to dinner parties, she’d talk to me while she was curling her hair, usually trying to guess what woman my brother would bring as a date. All those stupid little rituals.”

  “Laundry day.” Hannah gave him a sad smile. “Michael and I met at a Laundromat, so that’s where he proposed. He hid the ring box under some dryer sheets so that I discovered it, then made a big production of asking me to marry him in front of everybody. When we got married, we didn’t buy a washer and dryer. We kept the Laundromat as a silly r
itual, and when he was overseas, going to do laundry made me feel closer to him. When I had Evan and moved into an apartment that came with a washer and dryer, I cried every time I did the laundry. Which, when you have a newborn, is a lot.”

  She took a deep breath. “Eventually, the tears stopped and I no longer think of Michael every time I pour a capful of detergent. But he is still part of me. You asked the other day if I still miss him. I do, but it’s different than it was. Whenever Evan reaches a milestone, I hate that Michael couldn’t be here to see it. The first day of kindergarten is going to flatten me. But doing something with this ranch, which was in his family for years, is a way to honor Michael. We always knew we’d end up here—he was supposed to inherit it from his great-uncle—but I didn’t have the B and B idea until last year. Sometimes I feel like...if I don’t pull it off, I’d be, I don’t know, letting him down. And I realize that’s completely irrational, so don’t feel compelled to point it out.”

  “You’re a hell of a woman, and you’re raising a good kid. I’m sure Michael would be proud.” But her words struck an unpleasant chord within him. Since he spent most of his time trying not to think about Natalie or Danny, he rarely considered what his wife would have wanted for him. She knew how hard he’d worked to become a vet, and she’d always been one to speak her mind. What would she say about his current lifestyle? About his giving up the life they’d shared with no real plan for building a new one?

  Maybe she’d call him a coward. And maybe she’d be right.

  Chapter Eight

  The Thursday-afternoon sun hinted at a hot summer to come, and Hannah was glad she wore a hat to work in the garden—and not just because it protected her face. She also hoped the wide, floppy brim helped disguise the number of times she stared in Colin’s direction. He was currently atop a ladder fifteen yards away, wearing a pair of jeans that looked custom-made by the devil, hammering shingles onto the roof of Evan’s playhouse.