Hannah wanted nothing more than to unload the whole, real story, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
“He did,” she whispered.
And she was the only one who knew how much he’d loved her, then. She was the only one who remembered.
Later, once she’d washed her face, braided her hair, and changed into the tank top and pajama bottoms she wore to sleep in the same bed as the husband she was sleeping with—but still not having sex with, because she clearly liked to torture herself—Hannah found herself sitting on the couch in the main room of the little cabin. In her place.
Mama had left a bunch of messages, none of them friendly.
We’re coming up on two weeks, Hannah, she’d said in one of them, sounding as if she were in a wind tunnel. There’s trying to see if a marriage works, and then there’s abandoning your child. Which is this?
It was too late to call back home. Hannah had already called this morning, though Mama hadn’t answered. Hannah had assumed she was expressing her displeasure. And she didn’t want to raise her mother’s suspicions any by checking in at such a strange time. After midnight back home was too conspicuous. She didn’t want Luanne to know how fragile this all was.
Because she had everything she wanted. And yet nothing she wanted, at the same time.
Maybe she’d built a bridge with Becca tonight, but to what end? So the teenager could burn the dress in a fury if Hannah decided Ty didn’t deserve to know about Jack, and disappeared?
Abby treated her like a sister. The sister Hannah had always wanted and had never found in the groups of friends she’d made either at college or on the circuit. She’d had too much studying to do in college. And there was always too much competing on the circuit, so as nice as it was to spend time with the only people who knew what queening was all about, there were always boundaries. Walls. Fake smiles with malice behind them.
For a time, she’d had Ty. She’d finally found her person. Her one. Until that had all exploded all around her.
And now …
God, what a mess she’d made of this.
If she told him now, he would hate her. If she didn’t tell him, he would hate her anyway, because her time here was running out. She’d been away from Jack too long already.
No matter how long she sat there, worrying it through in her head, it all ended in the same place.
Ty was going to hate her. And his family and their friends here in Cold River were going to hate her too. All she was doing now was delaying the inevitable.
And the delaying only made her hate herself. More.
She rubbed at the place where her chest hurt the most, thinking back to that moment up there on the hill when she could have told him about Jack, but hadn’t. When she’d still had the opportunity to give Ty all the information she had, instead of holding back the most important part.
Now, she’d waited too long.
Men always lie, that voice in her insisted.
But why was she clinging to that? When as far she could tell, the only person lying here was her.
She could leave right now. She could pack up and go, before Ty came back from his trip out into the wilderness with his brothers. She didn’t expect him back until sometime tomorrow. Late, in all likelihood.
She could be out of the state by then, on her way home to her son.
But Hannah didn’t move. She didn’t leap to her feet, gather her things, and pack her bags.
The simple, sad, inescapable truth was that she didn’t want to leave. Her mother had been right. Playing house had done absolutely nothing but make all of this worse. It had only hurt her more.
Because now Hannah knew.
The way she’d always wanted to know.
Take away the rodeo, take away the sneaking around, the secret they’d kept, and all the extraneous things that she’d always wanted, so desperately, to get rid of—and living with Ty was exactly as she’d imagined it would be. Even taking away sex helped, because it made everything very clear. There was nothing to confuse the reality.
There were moments of friction, of course, but the simple truth was that she liked him.
She liked spending time with him. She liked the things he had to say, and she loved that she could never predict what they might be. She liked the way he took up space, and how he never took up too much of it because he was always aware of her. She liked the little things he did for her without ever discussing it, like making sure to turn on the coffee pot when he headed out in the mornings so it would be ready when she got out of the shower.
Hannah liked living with him, sharing space, sharing a bed, sharing each and every one of those odd, small moments that taken together, threaded into one, made a life.
The life that she could live with him. The life she’d always wanted to live with him.
If she didn’t have his baby.
Because that was still the kicker. He couldn’t remember, but she could.
They had never talked about children. They had been too busy trying to keep their hands off each other, then exulting in the fact they no longer had to try so hard. Ty had always taken care of the birth control, and Hannah hadn’t paid much attention when she kept missing periods because she’d never paid her cycle any mind. She hadn’t had to.
Until she counted back and realized it had been too long,
When she’d told her still-new husband that she was over three months pregnant, she’d expected him to be surprised. She’d certainly been surprised. Maybe even terrified. But filled with an odd, encompassing joy too.
Because wasn’t this the whole point?
But Ty hadn’t been surprised. He’d been flat-out furious.
And this was the truth Hannah still didn’t want to face. Ty might want to keep his vows to her. He might even fall in love with her again, if she stayed here.
But he was never going to magically transform into a man who wanted children, because he didn’t.
That was what he’d told her—shouted at her, in a voice she’d never heard from him before—that terrible night before he’d marched out, gone into the ring, and failed to walk back out.
He’d been very clear.
He had never expected or wanted to get married, but he had made an exception for her. He’d fallen crazy in love and he’d done his best to adjust to that. He was trying, he’d told her, as if she was that hard to love.
But children were a step too far. A baby was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him.
I would rather be dead than become a piece of crap father like mine, Ty had told her.
Then, as far she could tell, he’d done his best to prove it.
16
Ty came home from the cattle drive with his brothers tired, cranky, and about full up on family. Particularly the kind of family that came with all these discussions he didn’t want to have in the first place.
But after he’d tended to the horses, he found himself ridiculously excited to get to the cabin. Not because he was suddenly overwhelmed with that sense of belonging he’d never felt on this land, like every other person clinging to the various branches in the Everett family tree. But because he wanted to see Hannah.
Ty was growing more and more obsessed with the wife he hadn’t known he had two weeks ago, and the funny part was how little that bothered him.
He threw open the front door, but she wasn’t there in the main room of the bunkhouse. He checked in the bedroom to make sure, but Hannah wasn’t there either. So, he bit back his impatience, cleaned himself up after his two days out on the trail, and rationalized that he couldn’t expect her to be hanging around for some private time before yet another family dinner when he’d never told her that was what he wanted. It wasn’t lost on him that these days, his version of private time involved sitting in a room in her company, instead of some of the far more entertaining ways he could think of to pass the time.
Nor had he forgotten that was all on him.
Maybe he’d taken his martyr act too far.
Ty went over to the big house to find dinner cooking, but no sign of Abby in the kitchen. Then again, his brother was obviously very happily married and could enjoy his wife’s company any way and any time he pleased.
But he was taken back when he stepped into the dining room to find Hannah and Becca hunched over the dining room table. Something about the way the two of them sat there, their heads close together and all their attention focused on the fabric Becca was running through the sewing machine, killed him.
Ty couldn’t really imagine what it was like to have a daughter. He’d never tried, as far as he knew, but it had to feel the way he did now, looking at a child he’d known since before she was born. Now too grown for his liking and paying close attention to his wife.
It was unbearable and it was perfect, all at the same time.
Hannah looked up as if she’d felt him standing there, and Ty would never tire of the look of her. That pretty face. Those eyes of hers, so blue it hurt, and yet so complicated at the same time. Tonight, she had her hair in separate, fat braids that framed her face. And he wanted to pick her up, wrap himself around her, and bury himself in her in every way he could imagine. And then a few more.
But instead, he smiled.
For a moment, while Becca was still focused on the sewing machine, Ty concentrated on his wife. And that electric, searing connection that stretched tight between them and held fast.
When Becca glanced up a few moments—or a lifetime—later, the sewing machine stopped. “Uncle Ty, how long have you been standing there? You scared me.”
“My bad, peanut.”
And he couldn’t wipe that smile off his face. He went back into the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. He was standing at the window, watching the dark creep in over the fields, when he felt Hannah come up beside him.
Ty was used to the ache of it by now, but that didn’t make the kick of it any less bittersweet. It wasn’t enough any longer to stand beside her. To get the scent of her in his nose, to feel her in his gut, and still stand apart, keeping his hands to himself. And this distance he didn’t want anymore.
“How long have you been teaching Becca how to sew?” he asked, because he was an adult in his brother’s kitchen, not an oversexed teenager who didn’t know how to control himself. And wait.
“About twenty-four hours. This is the second lesson.”
Ty liked that Hannah was standing close to him. He liked that it seemed unconscious, as if she was as drawn to him as he was to her. “Glad to see she’s coming around to the idea of a new family member.”
Hannah gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, you caught that?”
“My women are very protective,” Ty drawled lazily. “They fight over me. It’s a curse.”
“She might even be fierce one day. But don’t worry, I have it covered.”
“I don’t know. Ordinarily my money would be on Miss Rodeo Forever, but a teenage girl?” He whistled. “That’s a whole different level of machination.”
“You forget that I used to be teenage girl myself.” Hannah grinned at him, nice and cocky, the way he liked her. “Like I said. I have it covered.”
Ty knew they had an agreement. There were rules, and he’d made them, but he couldn’t seem to help himself tonight.
He reached over and got his hands on her face, holding her cheeks between his palms.
She melted against him as if she’d wanted the same thing all along.
“Hannah,” he said, like her name was torn out of him. “Hannah, I…”
Her hands were on his chest, and he was sure they belonged there. Her body was arched into his, as if they really were puzzle pieces meant to be snapped together, just like this.
“Hannah—”
“Get a room,” came Brady’s disgruntled voice from behind them.
Ty took his time dropping his hands. Hannah’s gaze searched his for a beat, then she turned away and busied herself with getting dinner on the table.
And Ty spent the rest of the evening trying very, very hard not to murder his little brother.
But everything was still highly charged. He felt like he was vibrating with need. Hunger, and not for the hearty food that Abby served up. Ty didn’t care if it was memory or wishful thinking, because he wanted Hannah. He wanted all of her.
He was tired of only having part of her. Even if it had been by his own design and for the best of intentions.
But that wasn’t the deal they’d made. He’d assured her he would wait for her trust, not his convenience.
He didn’t say anything as they walked across the yard, side by side the way they always did. He didn’t put his hands on her the way he longed to or turn her toward him again, no matter how many times he imagined doing exactly that. He set his teeth. He clenched his jaw.
Ty assured himself that somehow, he wouldn’t die from this when they’d crawled into the same bed later.
Hannah seemed subdued. He wanted to ask her why, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would start begging. Not a great look.
Pull it together, he ordered himself.
She read her book for a while, then she excused herself to head off into the bedroom. Ty sat in the main room and told himself that he was made of stone. That he could handle anything without cracking or breaking his word. He listened to the water go on and there was a strange kind of peace in the fact he knew her routine. She took off her makeup, washed her face. Sometimes she did something else with her hair. She changed into her pajamas, then crawled into bed.
And he crawled in after her, then kept his hands to himself. Somehow.
There was silence from the other room, and then the sound of her feet scuffing against the floor.
Ty looked up to find Hannah standing in the doorway. She was wearing one of those tank tops she liked and he really liked, because it showed off her shoulders and made his tongue want to fall out of his mouth. And because it also hugged the rest of her, all those sweet curves he was doing his level best not to lose his mind over. Her pajama bottoms rode low on her hips, and he became unduly fascinated with the strip of smooth skin he could see between the hem of her tank top and the waistband of the pajama bottoms.
There was no denying it. He had it bad.
“You okay?” he asked. Gruffly.
“I’m terrific,” she said, and he couldn’t quite read that odd look on her face. “I like your family, Ty.”
That was unexpected.
“They’re okay,” he said. Eventually.
“Your sister-in-law in particular. She might be one of the nicest, kindest people I’ve ever met.”
“She’s good people. I told you that.”
“I like your brothers too. They both love you very much.”
Ty shook his head, that weighted thing in him suddenly much too heavy again. “They’re my brothers,” he managed to say. “They’re … annoying.”
Hannah smiled, and there was a sweetness to it. But there was also a sadness that Ty couldn’t understand. And didn’t like. He focused on the sweet.
“I wanted to thank you for bringing me here. You didn’t have to do that. I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know all of them.” She studied him. “I never met any of them before. I guess they didn’t come to watch you?”
“Gray met his first wife at a rodeo event,” Ty said dryly. “He lost his appreciation for the sport after that.”
“Even if they’d come to every event, it wouldn’t have mattered, I guess. I couldn’t have met them, then. It’s been a gift to meet them now.”
“Hannah. What’s going on?”
She hugged herself. “It takes a lot of trust to bring someone, a stranger, into your home. I wanted you to know that I recognize that. I was in there taking off my makeup. And I realized that you’re the only person I’m not related to by blood who’s ever seen me without it on.”
Ty waited, but she didn’t say anything. She only looked at him expectantly. And then laughed when all he did was stare bac
k at her.
“You don’t even realize what I’m telling you.”
“I like you in makeup,” he told her. Carefully. “A lot. But you’re also gorgeous without it. Basically, Hannah, you can’t go wrong.”
“Thank you,” she said, still laughing. And the smile she flashed warmed him up, inside and out. “But Ty. What I’m trying to tell you is … I trust you.”
For a moment he didn’t get it.
Then he did.
It was like flipping a switch. All that hunger, all that greed and longing, everything he’d been trying to put a leash on and hide away—it all stormed through him.
And slowly, intently, he rose to his feet.
“Say that again,” he ordered her.
Hannah flushed, bright and red and so beautiful Ty wasn’t sure he could keep his knees beneath him. But he managed it. Her eyes were locked to his, wide and blue, and filled with a new kind of heat now.
He felt a burst of satisfaction when she had to reach out to steady herself against the doorjamb.
“I trust you,” she whispered. “With me. But I need to tell you—”
Ty started toward her, and she never finished her sentence. Her chest rose and fell. He could hear her breathing fast and it made his own speed up.
Ty made it across the room, but he didn’t stop in the doorway. He scooped her into his arms, tossing her over his shoulder as he headed straight for their bed.
The torture chamber where she had been all over him, and wrapped around him, and yet so out of reach for so long, he might be permanently cross-eyed.
She was laughing as he tossed her on the bed. And followed her straight down.
“You do not mess around,” she said as he rolled over her, finally stretching out and getting that lush body of hers beneath him. Finally feeling her soft and warm all over the place he wanted her most.
“Baby, you have no idea,” he told her.
Then he claimed her mouth with his.
Again.
At last.
* * *
Finally.
Cold Heart, Warm Cowboy Page 21
