How to Wrangle a Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  “Acted?” she asked. “You want to act?”

  He looked so concerned that she wondered if something was wrong. Was she hurt? She did feel a little dizzy, and her breath was still catching in her chest, but she wasn’t sure if that was from the hard landing or the hot cowboy.

  Lying down beside her, Shane swept her hair out of her face. “Acted on this—this feeling we have. I realized, when I saw you lying there, that we can’t let this go. I thought I’d missed my chance with you, and I can’t—” His voice broke. “I just can’t.”

  Holy cow. That was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her. Whoever would have thought a laconic, slightly grumpy cowboy could be so eloquent?

  He kissed her again, and then he simply held her, as if she was some precious thing. No one had ever held her quite like that. Not since she was a child.

  She decided, in that moment, that she liked it.

  She wanted more. She wanted regular kissing and holding and lovemaking.

  To hell with Charleston, and to hell with William Ward. She wanted Shane Lockhart, and somehow, some way, she was going to have him.

  For keeps.

  Chapter 30

  There was a cricket in the grass next to Lindsey’s ear. She could hear the little fellow tuning up his tiny music machine, then lurching into a delicate, heartfelt love song that was the perfect counterpoint to her soaring emotions. Birds twittered in the trees, and a teasing breeze made the grass whisper its secrets.

  Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and smiled up at the sky as Shane made a trail of hot, wet kisses down her neck. She rolled a little to one side, then the other, loving the way his body felt as it rocked against hers. She felt wild and free, as if she’d finally thrown off the strictures of everyday life and made up her mind to live as she pleased.

  Wild love. That’s what she wanted out of life, and that’s what she felt when Shane Lockhart touched her, looked at her, kissed her.

  So she was completely unprepared for the sharp bang that exploded the country quiet, stilling the chirping cricket and cutting off the birdsong symphony as if someone had hit an off switch. Shane tensed, then leaped to his feet. Was he injured? Was she?

  Lindsey’s glorious swell of emotion shattered into a million pieces as one word reverberated through her mind:

  Gun.

  Adriana had warned her there might be trouble. Bud’s secrets had festered for too long, and they’d created complications and resentments that might bring out the worst in people. The son he hadn’t claimed might do worse than blackmail her.

  But shoot her?

  It didn’t seem likely, but she didn’t have time to sort out likelihoods and probabilities. Not when Shane was about to take a bullet for her.

  Bits and pieces she’d learned about him tumbled through her head—how Cody worshipped him, how alone in the world the boy was, how he ran the ranch with such a steady hand. So many people counted on him—including Lindsey’s own grandmother.

  Including Lindsey herself.

  Leaping to her feet, she jumped on his back, doing her best to drag him to the ground, but he shoved her away as if she was an over-affectionate lapdog.

  Where was the shooter? She glanced at the house and saw Cody on the front porch. Then, as she watched in horror, Josh exited the house too.

  The kids. She needed to get to the kids. She’d just taken a breath to shout out a warning when the screen door slammed shut behind them.

  Bang.

  Bang? Oh.

  Nobody was shooting at her. The kids had slammed the screen door. That’s all.

  Now she felt as if she really had been shot—as if she was a balloon and the bullet she’d imagined had punctured her tension and let all the air out of her body. The terror that had lit up every one of her nerve endings gave way to embarrassment, and she could feel herself deflating.

  She was an idiot.

  She tried to stand up and realized things were about to get a whole lot worse, because the onslaught of emotions she’d been through in the past five minutes—happiness, lust, love (or something like it), then terror and stark fear—had made her so dizzy that her legs buckled beneath her and the world turned gray.

  * * *

  A strong hand gripped Lindsey’s arm, holding her up through the worst of her momentary weakness.

  “Sorry.”

  She looked up at his grim, serious face. Her hero. She was pretty sure he’d thought the noise of the screen door slamming was a gunshot too, and he hadn’t hesitated to leap to her defense.

  He looked out for everyone, especially her. But who looked out for Shane?

  She did. Now. Everyone needed a defender, a supporter, a friend in all weathers. And she intended to be that person for Shane Lockhart.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. It was hard to defend him when she could hardly stand, but she wanted him to know she was there for him. Even though he looked a little wavery, and sometimes he had two heads.

  “I’m fine,” he muttered. Once again he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes flicked guiltily toward Cody, and she realized he wasn’t checking for a wound. He was worried about what Cody might have seen.

  Guiltily, she wiped her own lips too. She felt like they were a couple of teenagers, caught in the act.

  “What happened, Dad?” Cody asked.

  Lindsey started to answer, but the hand on her upper arm tightened until she was afraid he’d leave bruises.

  “Nothing,” Shane said.

  “But why was Lindsey on the ground?” Josh squinted up at her, his watery blue eyes filled with concern. “Did you fall?”

  Shane’s hand clenched a little tighter. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, she did.”

  Things were starting to come into focus at last. Shane, who finally was down to one head, wasn’t ready for Cody to know about their hidden passion. She was a little disappointed by that, but he was still her hero. He was just trying to protect his son.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I was, um, doing something, and your dad saw me fall. He was worried about me.” She glanced over at Shane and felt a warm glow—not a blush, but a sort of pride that he’d cared so much about her safety. “He was making sure I was okay.”

  “But why did you fall down?” Cody asked.

  Shane shifted his gaze from the barn to Lindsey and back again. Things were getting really clear now, coming into focus, and she realized he didn’t want Cody to find out about the rope. Knowing how protective he was of his son, she could understand his reluctance to let his six-year-old fly through the air like a trapeze artist.

  “I fall down a lot,” she said. “Clumsy. Really clumsy.”

  “Yeah,” Shane said, with a little too much enthusiasm. “She’s really clumsy. Terrible. Just falling all over the place. You hadn’t noticed?”

  The boys shrugged.

  “Yeah, kind of,” Cody said. “Like, every time you kiss her.”

  Josh shoved his glasses up his nose. “Maybe you ought to tone it down a little.”

  Lindsey resisted the urge to laugh. Shane was trying to shield Cody from the real world, but she had a feeling the boy was a lot tougher than he realized. He already knew, better than most, how fragile adult relationships were.

  That was something she needed to remember too.

  Cody and Josh had run down the porch steps and were now standing before Shane, fidgeting with eagerness. Lindsey could see clearly now, but it still felt like her brains might fall out.

  “What’s up, guys?” Shane asked.

  “I’m not clumsy.” Cody puffed out his skinny chest.

  “Me neither.” Josh imitated his friend, but was somewhat less successful in his effort to look like a youthful strongman.

  Shane grinned. “No, you’re not,” he said. “You guys are aces.”

  The two boys turned, giving each other mirror-image grins and bumped their fists together. Then they turned toward Shane, beaming.

  “So can we swing on that rope?”
They chorused the request in perfect unison.

  “No.” Shane didn’t even try to soften the denial. “The rope swing is way too dangerous for you guys. You saw what happened to Lindsey, right?” He shot Lindsey a glare as he said this, as if she’d introduced the kid to mixed martial arts or BASE jumping.

  She supposed she shouldn’t have taken the swing down. But she’d had to do something with all the risk-taking, hell-for-leather energy she’d been left with after the abrupt end of their little make-out session. If there’d been a fast horse in the barn, she would have gone for a ride, but not one of Grace’s old nags was fast enough to cool down after Shane Lockhart’s kisses.

  “But we’re not clumsy,” Cody said. He sounded sorrowful and hesitant. All the hope had disappeared from his voice.

  Lindsey remembered being that age. She’d hated being told she was “too little” to play certain games or ride certain horses.

  “Let me tell you a secret.” She drew the boys close in a circle that pointedly excluded Mr. I-Make-All-the-Rules. “See, my grandpa Bud taught me how to fall without hurting myself too bad.” She knelt, Shane style, to talk to the boys. “When you get a little older, I’ll teach you some of the old stunt moves he taught me. And then you’ll be able to use the swing.”

  “Oh.” Cody thought a moment. “Why can’t you teach me now?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Because Bud didn’t teach me until I was nine.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Cody shrugged off the idea of the swing and shifted gears. “Are we still working on that dirty, old room?”

  “We sure are. I’d like you guys to carry out everything you can lift, okay? And sort it like we talked about.”

  The boys ran off, and she turned to Shane with a triumphant grin. “Crisis averted.”

  He was staring at her, wide-eyed. “How did you do that?”

  She shrugged. “I just remember how kid logic worked. Stuff was all about how big you had to be to do stuff, how old. Like, You must be this tall to take this ride.”

  Shane nodded, slowly, but she could tell he didn’t understand.

  “You weren’t ever really a kid, were you?”

  He tightened his lips and shook his head. She could swear she felt her heart bleeding a little for this man who’d never been a boy.

  The two of them watched the boys run to the barn, Stormy trotting happily behind them. The sight made Lindsey smile, but a worried frown creased Shane’s face.

  “Keep an eye on that puppy,” he called after them. “Remember there are coyotes around.”

  Cody’s eager steps slowed, as if his high spirits had evaporated. Even the dog pinned his tail and trotted a little faster when Cody turned and called him, looking over his shoulder as if the coyotes were already on their heels.

  Lindsey felt her mood souring. Okay, the man had a rough childhood. She got that. But that was no reason to deny everyone around him, including himself, the simple pleasures in life. A kiss, a plaything, a puppy—he was so cautious he leeched all the joy out of things.

  “Let’s take a break.” She knew she was being rude, but she didn’t want to be with him—not at that moment. The expression on Cody’s face when he’d turned to summon his little dog had been a mixture of resignation, disappointment, and guilt—three emotions that didn’t belong in this sunny, summer day.

  Chapter 31

  Lindsey headed for the house, lost in thought. The one time Shane had let go was when they were making love. Don’t think, he’d said, and she’d called him Zen cowboy. That had been a different Shane, one who felt safe and confident. One who’d taken her away from the world of her worries and into a special place that was theirs alone.

  She could feel a warm glow stealing over her at the memory and smiled.

  “My goodness,” Grace said. “I didn’t think the swing was that much fun.”

  Lindsey started, spinning toward the far corner of the porch where her grandmother sat in the shadows.

  “It’s only fun once in a while.” Lindsey slumped onto the wicker love seat beside her grandmother. “The rest of the time, it’s kind of a drag.”

  “Are we talking about what I think we’re talking about?”

  Lindsey rested her elbows on her knees and hung her head. “Yup.”

  “I have to say, I’m surprised. I thought he’d be a pistol in bed.”

  “Grandma!” Lindsey sat up tall. “I can’t believe you’d even think about that.”

  “I’m old, but I’m not dead,” Grace said mildly. “And I have a good eye for that sort of thing.” Her smile turned mischievous. “So maybe it’s you.”

  “It’s not me. It’s him. And it has nothing to do with bed. In fact, that’s the only time he lets go enough to quit being such a…ooooh.” She buried her head in her hands, realizing Grace had tricked her into saying far too much.

  Well, she’d started, so she might as well finish. She needed somebody to talk to, and while Parsnip was a comfort, the old mare didn’t have much advice to offer on human affairs.

  “I feel bad for Cody. He won’t let him swing on the swing. He’s convinced something terrible will happen to Stormy, so he keeps trying to keep the kid from loving his own dog. He can’t just relax. Not ever.”

  “You know why, don’t you?”

  Lindsey nodded. “I asked him a minute ago if he was ever really a kid. He said no.”

  “That’s quite an admission for him. He normally won’t talk about his childhood at all.”

  “It must have been awful.”

  “Probably. But even if nothing truly terrible happened, he grew up without a real home or a real family. Unconditional love is like a safety net. It lets you take risks, have adventures. He never had that.”

  “He had it with the Deckers. And with his brothers.”

  “I think it was too late by then, don’t you?”

  Lindsey remembered herself at fifteen and realized Grace was right. She’d already become the person she was destined to be by that age, and only a few major tragedies, like her mother’s death and losing Daniel, had been able to change her.

  “He cares for you,” Grace said.

  Lindsey lifted her head, surprised. “He said so?”

  “I see him watching you.” Grace smiled gently. “There’s love in his eyes. He’s not the kind of man to say so until he’s sure, though. Like I said, he doesn’t take many risks, especially with Cody to think of.”

  “That’s just it.” Lindsey stood and walked over to the rail just in time to see Shane emerge from the barn with an old saddle propped on his hip. He looked strong and steady and muscular—a man who’d always worked hard and done the right thing, and always would.

  So what was her problem? She couldn’t help watching the way he walked, with long, self-assured strides. The way his hand, strong and sure, gripped the cantle. The way he balanced the weight of it on his hip, carrying the heavy saddle as if it was a toy.

  “What’s just it?” Grace asked.

  “Oh. Um…” Lindsey had lost her place in the conversation.

  “We were talking about risks,” her grandmother prompted.

  “Oh. Well, life’s all about risks.” Lindsey watched Shane set the saddle on the ground, shoulder muscles bunching, then relaxing. He headed back to the barn with that same purposeful stride and she almost lost her place again, then remembered. Risk.

  “Look at the risk you and Granddad took, coming here.”

  “The greater the risk, the greater the reward. That’s what Bud always said.”

  “And I believe that, with all my heart. I want to live my life the way you did.”

  “Chasing dreams and riding fast horses?”

  “Exactly.”

  Grace got that foggy look in her eyes that worried Lindsey so much. “Bud and I, we never play it safe.” She looked up, and Lindsey felt her grandmother was looking right through her. “Tell him not to work so hard.”

  “Who, Shane?”

  “No. Bud.” Grace looked peeved. �
��Shane always works hard. But Bud’s getting older. He doesn’t like to hear it, but it’s true. You tell him to come up here and sit with me awhile. It’s been too long since we just sat together.”

  Lindsey thought about sitting down with her grandmother, taking her hands, and pulling her gently back to reality. But what harm was there in dreams, really?

  “I’ll…I’ll do that.” Leaving Grace to her dreams, she walked slowly back to the barn, thinking about Shane, about Bud, about how every life is ruled by love or the lack of it. And she said a little prayer, asking Bud to be with her grandmother for a while. There was no harm in asking, right?

  She reached the door of the tack room and stopped, appreciating the view. For one thing, the room was nearly empty. The smudges on the windows were gone, and the rafters were free of cobwebs. Shane was gathering up a few remaining bits and pieces of tack, unaware he was being watched.

  The man lit her fire and warmed her from the inside out like no man ever had. Those broad shoulders were made to carry heavy burdens, but it was in his mind that he carried the most weight. Shane felt responsible not just for Cody, but for the whole world. He thought it was his job to care for Grace, to keep Stormy safe, to protect Lindsey from her own wild impulses.

  He was a good man—probably the best she’d ever know. But he was right to quash Cody’s hopes of a permanent relationship between the two of them. They were simply incompatible. Weren’t they?

  He turned and caught her watching. A slow, sexy smile spread over his face, and the dark eyes lit with a fire she knew was as hot as a woodstove on the Fourth of July.

  “It’s just about done,” he said.

  “Yeah.” She could feel the telltale heat behind her eyes that meant tears might come at any moment.

  She loved this man. But she doubted she could live a full life with him when he was so absurdly protective of those he loved. All she could do was treasure every moment with him, and do what she could to make his life easier, better, smoother. That’s what love was about, after all.