Her Cowboy Hero (The Colorado Cades)

by Tanya Michaels

  Music played through overhead speakers, and when a song came on that she hadn’t heard in years, she ducked down, taking Evan’s hand and spinning him in circles on the carpet.

  Colin laughed. “You’re up, Evan. Maybe I can cut in?”

  Hannah assumed he was kidding. The man had once gone seventy-two hours without smiling. He’d acted as if her standing on her kitchen counter would lead to a full-body cast. He seemed to lack the requisite absurd streak needed for dancing to a 1980s hair-band ballad in a bowling alley populated with retirees. She let out a squeal of combined shock and delight when he grabbed her and dipped her dramatically.

  Behind the counter, Bert applauded them.

  After they finished and went to return their shoes, Bert offered them a second free game in honor of Hannah’s birthday.

  “Not like I’ve got a long line of people needing that lane,” he said with a shrug.

  “Can we stay, Mommy?”

  “It’s fine with me. We have plenty of time until dinner.” She knew Colin had made a brief run to the store earlier, but he’d shooed her from the kitchen before he put the groceries away. In keeping with his plan-B philosophy, she thought to herself that if whatever he was cooking didn’t turn out, there was always peanut butter and jelly.

  In the second game, Colin finally got his three-in-a-row strikes and Hannah declared, “Huzzah, a chicken!”

  “A turkey,” Colin and Evan corrected in unison.

  Before they left, Bert made Evan’s day—possibly his year—by hoisting him atop the counter and letting him sing into the bowling alley microphone.

  “Do you and your dad want to serenade your mom for her birthday?” Bert offered.

  “Oh, he’s not my dad. He just lives with us.”

  There were guffaws from the other gentlemen gathered around, and Hannah felt her face go crimson.

  “He’s a ranch hand,” she stammered. “At the Silver Linings.” Though technically true, her words felt like a lie. There was no denying that Colin Cade was far more to her than just a cowboy passing through.

  * * *

  WHEN THEY WALKED into the house, Colin handed her a brown paper bag. “This is for you. Go enjoy, and Evan can stay and be my sous chef.”

  Evan nodded. “I’ll help make soup.”

  While Colin explained that he hadn’t said “soup chef” and that sous chef meant second in charge, she pulled a bottle of raspberry-scented bubble bath from the bag. She grinned. “Just what I always wanted. How did you know?”

  Filling the tub made her think about the pipes in the old place, but she squashed her concerns in order to enjoy Colin’s thoughtful gesture. When you were a mom—especially a single mom—a few completely solitary minutes to relax without interruption were a rare gift. But she didn’t stay in the bath long. She was propelled by curiosity and the desire to protect her kitchen. Colin might be unaware of how quickly her son could destroy a room.

  Hannah turned on the blow-dryer. Drying her hair completely took forever, but at least this way she wouldn’t be dripping on her shoulders through dinner. She twisted her still-damp hair into a knot and secured it with a clip. She put on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a comfy sweatshirt, then frowned at her reflection, momentarily wishing she’d picked something more flattering.

  Evan had apparently been appointed lookout duty because he was sitting against the living room wall. As soon as he saw her, he scrambled to his feet. “She’s done with the bath!” he shouted, preceding her into the kitchen.

  Hannah laughed at the container on her counter that bore the diner’s logo. There was a platter of fried chicken sitting on the kitchen table, and she admitted some relief that Colin and Evan hadn’t tried making it from scratch. The potential mess from frying chicken was daunting.

  Colin caught her eye. “I heated it in the oven all by myself. And Evan and I worked very hard on the salads.”

  The salads were plated so that each one had two cucumber slices as eyes and a smile of grape tomatoes. There were also little bowls of mixed berries topped with whipped cream. Judging by the sheer amount of whipped topping leaning like the Tower of Pisa, she had a pretty good idea who’d been allowed to work the spray can. The finishing touches were a loaf of bake-and-serve bread from the market and a bottle of chilled white wine—or, in Evan’s case, a carafe of chocolate milk.

  Tears pricked her eyes, but they were happy tears. “This all looks incredible. I doubt they dine this well in the best restaurants in Denver.”

  Colin pulled her chair out for her. Once she was seated, he folded a dish towel over his arm and presented the bottle of wine for her inspection. Extremely elegant, even though the towel was hot-pink and printed with éclairs, bonbons and petit fours. She took a mental snapshot, knowing she would want to cherish this moment for a long time to come.

  They took their time over the meal. She was halfway through her second glass of wine when she chased Colin away from trying to load the dishwasher.

  “I’m the only one who does that,” she reminded him. “I have a system.”

  He grinned, his eyes twinkling at her. “Control freak.”

  “Everyone’s got their quirks.”

  She hated for the day to end, but they’d all been up earlier than normal. Evan was visibly drooping. After he put on his pajamas, she tucked him into bed, suspecting he was sound asleep before she even made her way down the hall.

  Colin was sitting on the couch. It was where they’d started this unforgettable day, and her body tingled with desire, a sense memory of how he’d made her feel that morning.

  He held a large manila envelope. “I have one last thing for you. Consider it my version of a birthday card, although mine doesn’t have any cool glitter.”

  She sat next to him, her hand unsteady as she slid a sheet from his sketch pad out of the envelope. Her breath caught. “This is wonderful.”

  He’d drawn her ranch, although he’d taken creative liberties with the position of things. The playhouse he was building Evan was out front, and a dark, curly head was visible through one of its windows. In the distance, a group of people rode horses. Scarlett was curled up on the beautifully redone porch, and the main gates were shown much closer to the house than they were in reality. The sign above them read SILVER LININGS. She wanted to frame it and hang it above the fireplace. It was a visual reminder of what she wanted to accomplish, and it had never felt so within her reach as it did right now, as if his drawing predicted the future.

  “Thank you.” She set the picture on the end table, then wrapped him in a hug. Lord, he felt good. All hard planes and corded muscle.

  He stiffened—not, she thought, in rejection but more in surprise. Even though Evan had fallen into the habit of hugging him every night before bed, gestures of affection still seemed to catch Colin off guard, as if he was relearning human contact. But then his arms came around her and he was returning the embrace wholeheartedly.

  “Happy birthday, Hannah.” He brushed a kiss near the corner of her mouth. It was a quick, friendly peck, completely causal—except for how there was nothing at all casual about his nearness, the way he murmured her name. “I hope your wishes come true, and you get everything you want.”

  “Do you?” Her voice was husky. She didn’t sound like herself.

  Which was fitting because what she planned to do wasn’t like her, either. But this was her birthday. If she didn’t take the chance, she knew she wouldn’t be brave enough to do it tomorrow or the next day. He’d opened a door between them when he’d feathered his lips over her skin in that teasing whisper of a kiss.

  She wanted more.

  Keeping her eyes locked on his, she moved forward slowly. The combination of anticipation and anxiety was causing her heart to pound so loudly he could probably hear it. She was glad they were sitting—with their height diffe
rences, if they’d been standing, there was no way she could have done this without active cooperation on his part. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, it was as if he was already touching her.

  She fit her mouth to his, and liquid fire roared through her veins. His hand tangled in her hair, bringing her closer, and he nipped at her bottom lip. Their tongues met, tentatively at first, but inhibition combusted into fervent need. They tasted each other, exploring eagerly, and her hands were running up and down his arms now, over the well-defined muscles beneath his sleeves. He was strong and sculpted and so deliciously male she wanted to bite into him.

  As if a dam had broken and he couldn’t decide where he wanted to kiss her the most, suddenly he was everywhere. He moved from her throat to her jawline to her ear, and she moaned beneath the sensual onslaught. Shoving the baggy sweatshirt so that it slid off her shoulder, he followed the slope of her neck all the way to the strap of her bra. The moments blurred together, indistinct, a shifting kaleidoscope of sensation. She didn’t know if he’d tugged her into his lap or if she’d moved there in her escalating need to get closer. He was hot and hard beneath her, and she reflexively rocked her hips against him. He groaned into her mouth, his kiss wild. Encouraged by his response and the sharp pleasure drugging her system, she did it again.

  He threw his head back against the couch. “Hannah.” It was an oath and a plea and an apology. “We...”

  Face burning, she scrambled off his lap.

  “That got out of control fast.” He shoved his hand through his hair, his breathing choppy. “You told me this morning that today is difficult for you. I don’t want to add to that difficulty, be something you regret in the morning. I have a few regrets of my own, and I can’t do that to you.”

  “R-right.” She’d be more impressed with his gallantry if every nerve ending in her body wasn’t throbbing with fierce sexual need.

  “Hannah? I’m not saying I don’t want you.” His tone was rueful as his eyes cut downward, indicating the physical proof of his reaction to her.

  She made the mistake of following his gaze, and her yearning intensified.

  “But we can’t.” He ran the pad of his thumb across her still-tingling lower lip; she hadn’t realized how sensitive she was there. Then he added two of the most tantalizing, maddening words she’d ever heard. “Not tonight.”

  Chapter Ten

  By the weekend, Colin was experiencing the worst insomnia he’d had in months. Although, maybe insomnia wasn’t the correct medical term for the punishing physical discomfort of being hard enough to drive nails. He lay awake at two in the morning on Sunday, listening to the rain fall against the roof and windows. It was a gentle patter, almost lulling, except that it made him think of Hannah—how she’d looked in that soaked blouse the first time he’d seen her, how close she’d pressed to him beneath their shared umbrella on her birthday.

  Who was he kidding? It wasn’t the rain making him think of Hannah. He hadn’t stopped thinking of Hannah since he’d pushed her away on the couch two nights ago.

  He still hadn’t decided whether that had been a noble act or perverse selfishness. She’d started her birthday with red-rimmed eyes and memories of her husband, claiming her birthday was the day she missed him most. Deep in some primal, irrational place inside, Colin hadn’t been willing to share her. Granted, her earlier melancholy had seemed thoroughly vanquished by the time she’d reached for him on the sofa, but still....

  He was a hypocrite. Last year, he’d indulged in a handful of faceless encounters meant to make him forget, to blot out the loneliness for a fraction of an instant, but he’d balked at the slightest possibility of being that for her. He’d already acknowledged that he couldn’t be a permanent fixture in her life, wasn’t what she deserved, yet he was equally unwilling to be a one-night stand. What did he want to be to Hannah? Until he figured that out, he’d been doing his best to avoid her.

  Which would probably be a more effective long-term plan if he weren’t also living with her.

  * * *

  THE FINANCE-INDUCED terror Hannah felt as she signed the check for the plumber Monday was a nice change from the pent-up frustration that had gripped her all weekend. With Colin’s assistance, the plumber had sawed through the drywall and located the source of the leak. Colin had promised to refashion that section of the wall as a removable panel so that if she ever needed to get to the pipes again, it would be a simpler process. Plus, they’d planned to repaint the dingy stairwell a fresh, gleaming white anyway, so that would minimize the cosmetic damage. For the time being, the plumber had used some rubber hose to fix her problem, staving off further damage. But he warned that the best way to ensure she didn’t come home to costly flooding someday was to replace the faulty pipe. He put in an order for parts and said he’d be in touch to schedule his return his visit.

  She was facedown on the kitchen table when the phone rang. Rising from her chair, she prayed the caller was Annette. Hannah desperately needed to vent about the plumbing crisis, her wildly unexpected birthday celebration and the way Colin was suddenly as skittish as a spooked horse.

  His attempts to avoid her were humiliatingly blatant. Was he afraid she’d pounce on him in some hormone-fueled frenzy? But on the bright side, he’d spent every spare second over the weekend working on Evan’s playhouse, and it was finished. Her son was ecstatic and had been disappointed she wouldn’t let him sleep out there last night.

  “Hello?” She answered without bothering to check the number first. If it was an unwanted solicitor, he was about to get an earful.

  “Hannah?” Henry’s voice was thin and reedy. “I hate to be any trouble, but could you come get me in the truck?”

  Her heart jumped in her chest. Because Colin had been assisting the plumber behind the wall, Henry had gone out to the pasture alone. “Oh, my God, Henry, are you all right?”

  He took a deep breath, and the way it rattled through the phone had her racing for the truck keys. “No, I don’t believe I am.”

  * * *

  HANNAH WANTED TO pace the hospital waiting room, but it didn’t set a good precedent for Evan, whom she was trying to keep still and out of the way. Plus, she thought signs of nervous energy on her part made Kitty more apprehensive.

  It had been a crowded truck ride to the E.R. Colin had offered to take Henry to the hospital so that she could stay home with Evan. She’d snapped at him that she realized he was trying not to share any space with her but that he was a moron if she thought she was going to sit at home twiddling her thumbs after Henry had been hurt on her land. The bull had charged him, knocking him to the ground.

  “He’s always been touchy,” Henry had said in the truck. “Gotta be careful not to set him off, and it’s a good idea to have a stick with you. But lately he’s turned plumb mean. He didn’t give me any warning, just came out of nowhere.”

  Because none of them had wanted Kitty driving while she was worried, they’d stopped briefly on the way to the hospital, just long enough for her to hop in the truck. When they’d all five unloaded from the cab in the parking garage, it had made Hannah think of a clown car.

  Colin had helped Henry into the hospital, but once the nurse had taken him back for examination, Colin turned to Hannah, his face ashen.

  “I need air. This isn’t me avoiding you, I swear.” His jaw clenched. “I hate hospitals. I’ll be outside. Text me when you hear something?”

  It was twenty minutes later when they were allowed to go back and see him. Henry’s official diagnosis was a sprained arm and bruised ribs. The doctor said he should heal fine but added sternly that Henry needed to take it easy.

  “No ranch work,” Kitty told her husband.

  “Seconded!” Hannah agreed. It was an unpleasant revelation seeing him here, under the fluorescent lights, with his arm in a sling. She was so used to seeing him ambling across the yard as if he
belonged there.

  He grimaced. “This mean I’m out of a job?”

  “You are welcome at the Silver Linings whenever you want to visit us—which I hope will be often. You’re like family.” Hannah squeezed his hand. “But I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because you were trying to help me. You recover. Colin and I can pick up the slack.”

  Panic clawed at her. Colin was staying only a few more weeks—unless what had happened the other night drove him to leaving sooner. Whenever he departed, the end result was inevitable.

  She would be alone with no help on the ranch, faulty pipes, a drastically reduced bank account and a bull with anger-management issues.

  * * *

  COLIN STRODE TOWARD the house Tuesday afternoon. It was late enough that Hannah and Evan had probably already finished lunch. He didn’t want to get in Hannah’s way if she was baking, but he was starving. Would she be in the kitchen? He missed watching her flit from the pantry to the sink to the stove, moving with an endearing blend of grace and precision. Like a really purposeful butterfly.

  In fact, he’d missed a lot of things about her. Going a few days without any prolonged conversation with her had highlighted how much they’d been talking up until then and how much he enjoyed it. They’d discussed their days of course, comparing notes on the ranch and laying out steps for what needed to be done, but he’d fallen into the habit of confiding more personal things, too. About the hilariously irate texts Arden sent when he didn’t answer his phone, about the mentor who’d influenced him to become a veterinarian, about his nightmares.

  Since that first night in the house, he hadn’t had any other bad dreams. Lately, the only dreams he could remember all featured Hannah.

  He’d pushed her away in case she was more emotionally vulnerable than she’d realized, but it wasn’t her birthday now. He quickened his pace, motivated by the thought of her in that sunny kitchen, her dimpled smile, the addictive vanilla scent that always clung to her even when she wasn’t baking anything. Jogging up the steps, he hoped that the car out front belonged to a customer who would be leaving any minute with a basket of cookies or pie pan of savory quiche.