“Did I ever tell you what I planned to do with my life when I was ten?”
“I figured you wanted to be a vet.”
“I did, but that wasn’t all.” She smiled, and the faraway look that lit her eyes reminded him of Grace when she was in one of her dream states. “I wanted turn the Lazy Q into an animal sanctuary.”
“Like Grace and her horses?”
She nodded. “And for dogs and cats too. Rabbits, goats—whatever needed help.”
He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “The stuff we think up when we’re kids.”
The dreamy look in her eyes faded like fog burning off under a summer sun.
An angry summer sun. Evidently, he’d gone and said something stupid again.
“I still wish I could do that. That’s part of the reason I want to hang on to the ranch.”
He tried to wrestle his face into some expression that would convey concern and understanding, but he had a feeling he just looked confused, like a cow that had just been hit by a train.
At least he was being honest. He felt like a cow that had just been hit by a train.
She wanted the ranch so she could run forty thousand acres of rabbits and goats? Rabbits were the bane of his existence, nibbling at the lettuce in Grace’s vegetable garden. He wasn’t allowed to kill them, but she wanted her lettuce to reach the table without telltale tooth marks.
And goats? His only experience with a goat had been at a neighboring ranch, where he’d been working on a branding as a teenager. He’d answered the call of nature in what he thought was an unused pasture, and been surprised by an amorous billy goat, who apparently mistook him for a lady goat. He’d made the world speed record for pants-around-the-ankles running, much to the amusement of his brothers.
He couldn’t imagine why anyone, anywhere would ever want a goat.
“I think life is harsh for everyone,” Lindsey continued. “But it’s hard to think of those innocent little cows being taken off to slaughter. It must be so terrible for them. Their lives here are so quiet, you know? Out grazing in the field with their mamas. But then they load them up and take them away, all crowded together in those awful dirty trucks you see on the highway—it’s terrible. They must be so scared.”
Holy crap. Now that she put it that way, he hated to think of it too. But he wasn’t about to say so. Women were supposed to have tender hearts, and men were there to resist that kind of sentimentality and keep things functioning.
“It’s business,” he said. “I didn’t see you crying over that steak the other night.”
She looked away, and he knew she was blinking back tears. Damn it, he’d been rough and unsympathetic, just like he always was. He ran roughshod over Cody’s feelings sometimes too. Why was he such a jerk?
Tentatively, he reached out to comfort her, then realized what a bad idea that was. But she turned just as he pulled away, catching his hand in midair, so he was forced to do something. He settled for patting her back, but he felt clumsy and awkward. He was more likely to dislodge a choking hazard than comfort her.
Sure enough, she turned away, her shoulders shaking. Hell, one tear was understandable, but was she full-on crying? Over cattle? This woman could never be a rancher. He was surprised she could be a vet.
Then she bent double and clutched her stomach, and the truth dawned on him. She wasn’t crying. Her shoulders were shaking because she was trying not to laugh.
What the hell? Her emotional fountain must have sprung a leak. Now all those girly feelings were pouring out willy-nilly, soaking him in female touchy-feely stuff.
“It’s—it’s okay.” She gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “You don’t have to comfort me. It’s just…” She swallowed a giggle. “Sympathy’s not exactly your strong suit, is it?”
“Hey, I do all right. When Cody hurts himself, I do the whole Band-Aid thing.”
“Do you kiss it?”
He ignored the question. Everybody knew that was a mom thing, but his kid didn’t have a mom, so he did what had to be done. It wasn’t something a man talked about, though.
“You’re a grown woman,” he said. “I’m sure you can deal with your feelings on your own.” He looked away. “Hell, I’ve been comforting myself since I was six years old. Younger even.”
“Cody’s age.”
Desperate to change the subject, he looked over at Cody, who was struggling with something squirmy inside his shirt. Either the kid was suddenly pregnant with a very wiggly alien child, or he was hiding Stormy under his shirt.
“Dad, I’m going to bed.”
“Voluntarily?” Shane stood up and pulled the boy close, grabbing for his belly. “Who are you, and what have you done with Cody?”
“I’m Cody,” the boy squealed. He kept his hands crossed protectively over his stomach, where the puppy wriggled and whined. Shane pretended not to notice as they wrestled.
“You can’t be Cody. Cody never volunteers to go to bed.” He started to lift the boy’s shirt. Screaming with delight, the boy ran into the house, pursued by his father. “You’re an alien pod! I know it! Come back here, you alien pod, you!”
“I’m me! I’m me!” The little boy scampered up the ladder to the loft, the puppy yapping in the bouncing, swaying belly of the tucked-in shirt.
By the time Shane reached the loft, his son was already in bed, and the puppy had disappeared. The only sign of Stormy was a telltale wiggle near Cody’s left thigh as Shane sat down on the side of the bed.
“You feeling okay, Son?” he asked, keeping his expression serious.
“Fine.”
A suspiciously puppy-shaped lump began making its way up the bed.
“Thought you might be having some tummy trouble,” Shane said. “It seems mighty…active down there.”
“Nope.” The dog’s furry little face emerged from under the covers. Cody tugged the sheet over it. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Shane stroked the boy’s hair. He’d planned to let the puppy sleep with Cody anyway. There hadn’t been much softness or warmth in Shane’s childhood, and not much love either, but for Cody, life would be different.
Shane’s own life was different now too. Opening his world to Cody seemed to have let in all sorts of trouble. For instance, Haycat insisted on sleeping on his bed, and he fell asleep every night to the comforting rumble of her purr. He’d never admit it to Lindsey, but he’d grown attached to the little thing.
A barn cat. Who would have guessed?
“Sleep tight.” He bent and kissed Cody’s forehead. The gesture felt like a sacrament, even with the puppy peeking at him from under the covers.
“Okay.” The boy blinked, so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open. “But, Dad?”
“Mm-hm?”
“Lindsey’s really nice.”
“Mm-hm.” He wasn’t going to comment on that. He’d sworn to himself when Cody was born that he’d never be the kind of father who killed his child’s dreams, but this was a dream that needed to die. Lindsey had said it herself, and the words were burned in his brain.
No, honey, I don’t want to marry your dad. He’s a nice man, but no.
Cody closed his eyes, a faint smile lighting his features. Shane knew he thought he’d pulled one over on his dad by taking the dog to bed.
Let him think that. And let him dream about the perfect mother if he wanted. There’d be plenty of time in the future for Cody’s little-boy dreams to die, but tonight, he would fall asleep happy and dream of a real family.
The very thought made Shane’s heart ache with a pain that was so much a part of him he barely noticed it anymore.
Chapter 25
Shane found Lindsey on his porch swing when he stepped outside. She’d set it to swaying with one pointed foot, starting up the faint, familiar creak of metal on metal. Haycat was curled up in her lap, a self-satisfied smile on her pretty kitten face.
“Did you get him all settled in?” she asked.
“Yep.” Shane chuckled. “He t
hinks he put one over on me, bringing that pup to bed.”
“It was nice of you to get him a dog. He seems so much happier.”
Shane grimaced. “He’s getting too attached to it. Little thing like that, anything could happen.” He nodded at Haycat. “Same with that cat.”
“You can’t live your life worrying about the worst-case scenario.”
“You kidding? That’s my job. A father has to be prepared when things go wrong.” He couldn’t help thinking how empty his bed would feel if anything happened to Haycat. But he’d never felt like he needed a sleeping companion before. “Be smarter if I’d never let him have it,” he grumbled. “Dang dog’s no use to anybody anyway.”
“He is to Cody. He’s teaching him about unconditional love.”
“If it gets stomped by a horse or eaten by a coyote, he’ll learn about unconditional heartbreak.”
“Love’s a good thing, even if you lose it,” she said. “I can’t believe you need someone to tell you that.”
He turned to look at her, a scowl locked and loaded, but it faded when he saw how the light from the window was warming her skin and reflecting off the glossy curtain of her hair. The cat sprawled on its back, all four paws in the air, purring like a four-stroke generator while Lindsey stroked its pink belly. He could have sworn the animal was smiling.
She patted the seat beside her, inviting Shane to sit down, but he turned away, faking interest in the darkening sky. Porch swings might seem rustic and comforting, but the one at Decker Ranch had damn near ruined his life. He and Tara had spent many nights on its slatted seat, struggling to talk until they couldn’t stand it anymore.
That was half the reason he’d gotten her pregnant. The two of them had nothing to say to each other, so they found other things to do and better places to do it.
He’d better find something to talk about now, or the same thing would happen with Lindsey. Already, a part of him was trying to figure out how to get her into the backseat of his truck. It was like a reflex, sparked by the sound of those creaking chains.
“How’s Grace?” he asked.
“She’s okay.” The swing rocked to and fro, the chains groaning. “She’s grieving.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Love leads to loss.”
“And to memories. Good ones. Right now, that’s all she’s got.”
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the rhythm of the swing. In the dim light, she looked like a countrified angel.
That was an illusion, of course. Shane knew better. What kind of angel would ever think about selling the herd?
“Wild love.” She seemed to be talking to herself, not to him. “That’s how Bud told me he felt about her. When I was a kid, I thought they were like Catherine and Heathcliff, Scarlett and Rhett.”
“Archie and Veronica,” he said. “No, wait. Archie always had Betty in the background, and Bud wasn’t like that. He always said Grace was the only woman for him, forever and always.”
He felt embarrassed by the romantic words even if he was just quoting Bud, but Lindsey shrugged them off with a surprisingly callous gesture. “Sometimes love isn’t what it seems.”
Who was this woman? Sweet one moment, cynical the next—she had his head spinning.
Then again, a woman who felt that way about love probably wouldn’t take advantage of his porch swing reflex.
Careful not to interrupt her rhythm, he eased into the seat beside her on the backswing. She didn’t seem to notice, and he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed.
Staring off into the darkness, she spoke as if she was in a trance. “He used to tell me about the day they met.”
Her voice was husky with grief, and so soft he could barely hear her. He shifted closer.
“He said he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He never thought she’d notice him, but she went over and held his horse’s halter while he was taking a break.”
Shane had heard the story from Bud a dozen times, but he let Lindsey continue. It seemed like she needed to tell it. Maybe it held some sort of magic for her, like an incantation.
She shifted easily into Bud’s countrified tones.
“‘This little bitty thing,’ he said, ‘holding my big ol’ horse, looking up at me with those purty eyes.’”
She lifted her own “purty eyes” to his and he noticed how much she looked like Grace. No wonder Bud had been smitten. He could see himself reflected in those eyes—himself but with a twist. He looked like a better man, a softer, kinder one.
“I’ll bet you know the rest,” she said.
“Sure do.” Shane did his best to imitate Bud’s homespun way of speaking, and Lindsey laughed softly, leaning closer. “Love lit ’em afire like a spark hitting tinder.”
He felt a flame rise in himself, igniting on the promise in her laughter. It rose, wavering, and grew stronger as he cautiously stroked a dangling lock of hair out of her face.
She was wearing some sort of perfume, or maybe she just smelled good. He recognized the sharp tang of newly mown grass, the fragile musk of a bruised petal from a wild rose. There was a hint of spice too. It suited her—wholesome and unpretentious, but a little exotic, even dangerous.
Cripes, he was like one of those wine snobs, analyzing their booze to death. The only thing this woman was dangerous to was his sanity.
She smiled and looked down at her lap, twisting her hands, embarrassed by the silence, so it seemed only natural to run a hand over the back of the swing and settle his arm around her. She snuggled close, making a contented, kittenish sound in her throat. It was as innocent a sound as he’d ever heard, but it made him suddenly, blazingly aware of the spark between them. Their secret, sunlit kiss filled his memory, and he felt it all again—the softness of her skin, the sweet pressure of her lips on his, the way her hips nestled between his own, a perfect fit.
“Lindsey?”
She turned toward him, eyes wide, lips parted. Her chest was heaving and he knew she felt it too. The flame, rising.
He touched her chin with one finger, tilting her head up, and looked in her eyes. She blinked once, slowly, and her lips tilted up in a shy invitation.
When he kissed her, it was like a dam between them had broken. A raging torrent of lust burst free, barely tempered by tenderness as he gentled his all-out assault on her rich, warm mouth. She tasted faintly of coffee, some rich, exotic blend gentled with cream and sweetened with sugar.
Running his hand up the back of her neck, he nested his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back as he deepened the kiss. She opened to him, and he felt it then, what Bud had talked about—a spark meeting tinder. The two of them were liable to burn the house down just kissing on the porch swing.
When he paused for breath, she bent her head, shyly touching his chest with a tentative finger.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” She traced her finger down the center of his chest, then up again, and looked into his eyes. “Thank you for staying. For not taking your horses and money and walking away. I know you really care about Grace. About the ranch.”
About you.
She looked so delicate and helpless, he wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her senseless, save her from any trouble the world might bring her. He knew, in that moment, that her bossy, irritable outbursts had to be products of fear.
Something was wrong. There was no way this sweet, tender woman would sell the ranch her grandmother loved if something hadn’t happened. He needed to find out what was wrong and fix it. She was depending on him.
She touched the spot where his collarbones met, and a zing of electricity shot through his loins. Unaware of the fire she’d set, she stroked one finger down his chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hard, struggling to think of cattle, cowboys—anything but sex.
“It’s not like you don’t have somewhere to go,” she mused. “I guess you could just join your brothers at Decker Ranch if you wanted.” Sighing, she turned and leaned against his chest. “I’m
so glad you’re staying.”
He let his arm dangle from her shoulder and thought about Cody’s movie-going strategy. It would be so easy to let that hand wander where it wasn’t supposed to go. So very easy…
But wait. He was leaving, going to work with Ridge. He should tell her, he really should, but she was so warm, so sweet, so sexy and innocent, he couldn’t say a word. She had his heart thumping like a bucking horse as it pounded out of the chute, hitting the ground hard and throwing all its pent-up energy into one wild and reckless dance.
When he bent to kiss her again, her beauty took his breath away, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever thought of leaving.
* * *
Lindsey had always been an overachiever, but this was ridiculous. She’d come over here to mend some metaphorical fences and now she was jumping them, leaping them, crashing through them.
And it felt good.
This was a man. This elemental combination of sweetness and swagger, temper and tenderness, with a brusque manner that hid a soft heart—a heart that laid down and rolled over for little boys, puppies, and old ladies.
It rolled over for her too, though a bit less willingly.
She pulled away for a moment, so she could look at him, read his face, figure out where to go from here. She wasn’t trying to seduce him into staying. Not really. But could she help it she was irresistible?
The two of them only managed to stare at each other for a half second before they were kissing again.
“Lindsey Ward,” he whispered.
She’d always hated her wholesome, commonplace name, but on his tongue it became a prayer, a chanted spell. It drew her back into the dark, heated rush of the kiss.
He pulled away and she made a little mew of protest until she realized the way he was looking at her was every bit as good as a kiss. Those dark eyes, deep and mysterious, gazed into hers, searching for—what?
“What’s happening here?” he whispered.
“I don’t know, but it’s good.” She scanned his face, looking for answers. “Isn’t it?”
How to Wrangle a Cowboy Page 16
