Counterfeit Cowgirl (Love and Laughter) (10 page)

BOOK: Counterfeit Cowgirl (Love and Laughter)
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Funny. Every time she smiled, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Right about now he had a pile of them that’d make a sailor proud.

“You told me,” she said, music in her voice.

“Anyway, I ducked through the fence and walked on into the herd, real cockylike, a cattleman looking over his domain, you know. Checking this one’s hooves, that one’s legs.” He shook his head. “I never saw the old bat coming. She hit me like a two-ton truck and rolled me like a sausage. By the time Dad chased her off me I felt like I’d been mauled by a bear.”

“Oh, no,” Hannah said, but her voice cracked when she said it.

“Oh, yes,” he disagreed. “But the worst part was when I looked up, there was Elaine, doubled over, laughing her head off.”

“Oh, no,” she repeated.

“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” he asked, leaning close to gaze into her face. “You wouldn’t laugh at my misfortune.”

“No,” she said, and burst into openmouthed laughter.

He watched her until she was done and the noise had turned to chuckles. Then he tucked her arm beneath his own and headed toward the barn.

“You’re an evil woman, Hannah Nelson,” he said.

“I know.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled because it didn’t sound as though she was sorry at all.

“But I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help his breathless tone. “How?”

She glanced away, nervous again. “I’ll take two watches tonight.”

“That wasn’t quite what I was hoping for,” he admitted, and led her into the yard to check the cows most likely to deliver before dawn.

When he switched on the overhead lights, the cows blinked. Near the far wall, a black heifer rose nervously to her feet. He knew immediately that something was up.

“Looks like we got us some action,” he said softly.

“How can you tell?”

He nodded toward the heifer. “See how she’s standing—hind legs spread. Looks flighty. It’s her first calf. It spooks them sometimes. And see, she’s sweating.”

“What do we do?” Her words were breathy.

Normally, he might rope her, do an exam, chase her in with the newborns. But the night was so warm and friendly, and with Hannah at his side, those options seemed patently unappealing.

“I like to let them handle it themselves if possible. And I’m not going to get any sleep now until I know the outcome here. We could just hunker down in the straw over there, kind of out of sight, and watch and wait.”

He’d used the wrong vernacular. He remembered the day she’d arrived. She wasn’t the hunkering kind, she’d said. He waited for her to say it again.

“All right,” she said instead.

Finding a spot half-hidden behind a cluster of cows, they sat, their backs against the wall of the shed, their bottoms sunk into the sweet, clean bedding of straw.

“So this is how you spend your Saturday nights?” she asked.

He, looked at her. She was a narrow, sexy slice of dark heaven only inches away. “They’re generally not this exciting.”

She laughed. The sound melted its way into his already punch-happy heart.

“How ’bout you?” he asked.

“Me?” She sounded surprised but only slightly wary. “Same with me.”

He snorted, but she held his gaze.

“Usually not so exciting,” she said.

Well, geez, there really wasn’t any hope for it. He had to touch her.

The straw rustled as he leaned toward her. Beneath his fingers, her face felt as soft as a dream. “You’re not playing by the rules,” he said.

He watched her swallow. “No?” The word sounded tense.

“You’re supposed to say something nasty.”

“I, uh…” She was holding her breath. “I can’t think of anything. Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you,” he murmured, and touched his lips to hers.

It was only supposed to be a touch, a moment. But she kissed him back, hesitant and shy, slanting across his lips like a taste of Eden. The sweetness of it shocked him, thrilled him, pulled at him like the call of the wild. He wanted to drag her into his arms and carry her to bed.

He drew back, breathing hard. “Wow!” It was the best he could come up with.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Wow?” she echoed. And in that word there were a thousand emotions.

“Yeah,” he said. “Wow.”

Was he teasing her? she wondered wildly. Did he, like Derik, think she was an ice queen? If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was to be made fun of. If men thought her cold, then cold she would be, and far too good for the likes of them.

But now she couldn’t stand the thought. Not when
his
touch seemed as warm as the summer sun, as wondrous and alluring as magic. Even now she felt herself drawn toward him. And suddenly their lips were touching again. Her heart clipped along like running hooves in her chest and every nerve ending throbbed with sensation.

But what did he feel?

“Hannah, I…” He drew back, breathing hard, and reaching out, he touched her cheek.

She closed her eyes to the feelings. He slid his fingers, slow as forever, along her jaw and down her throat. It was only then that she realized his hand was trembling.

7

T
YREL DREW BACK
and caught her gaze. “Hannah?”

Her breath came in soft pants. It no longer mattered that they were worlds apart, for the feelings that soared through her were all consuming, making her head spin and her heart sing. “Yes?”

“There is no gal in town.”

“What?”

“Shelly,” he explained, his words fragmented and his eyes intense. “We broke up six months ago or so.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah. It seems she could think of more exciting things to do on a Saturday night.”

“More exciting than this?” She didn’t even try to keep the honesty from her tone.

He smiled. Her heart tripped. “Shelly would have made a fine wife but there wasn’t…” He paused and ran the backs of his fingers down her throat. She shivered at the touch. “There was never the fire, the feelings that you need to make forever last. Not like…” He stopped his words and drew his hand slowly away to curl it into a loose fist. Turning his gaze aside, he said, “Looks like she’s down again.”

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “The heifer. She’s been down on the other side of those cows. Maybe we better take a look.”

Taking her hand in his own, he pulled her to her feet, then, quiet and slow, they skirted the wall until he pulled her back down to a squatting position where he raised his arm and pointed.

“See.” His voice was soft. “The front feet and the nose are out.”

Hannah spotted the heifer. She was lying flat-out on her side, and straining. The feet and nose Ty had mentioned, didn’t look like feet and a nose at all, but rather like a purpleveined plastic bag with something bumpy trapped inside and trying to get out. But as the heifer strained again, the legs emerged a bit more. The placenta was pushed back, so that Hannah could now see a shiny black head pressed flat against forelegs. Once the head was free the body came in a rush, slippery and wet and the most spectacular process Hannah had ever witnessed in real life.

She stared in openmouthed amazement. The cow lay panting on her side, looking wasted and forlorn.

“Is she okay?” Hannah asked, suddenly certain that such an Amazonian effort must have killed her.

“Shh,” Ty said, and clasping her hand in his own, nodded toward the unfolding drama. “Watch.”

She did, and finally, just when she was about to insist that they rush forward to help the pair, the calf raised its wobbly head and scrambled to get its legs under it. The cow sat up with a start, and bending her neck back, stared at the newborn with wide, startled eyes.

The calf struggled again. The cow bellowed, the sound low and throaty, a maternal call as old as time. Lurching to her feet, she hurried over to meet her newborn.

For some reason unknown to Hannah, tears stung her eyes as she watched the mother lick her baby dry. And when the calf finally rose, shaky and wet on its widespread legs, the first tear coursed down her cheek.

“You all right?” Ty’s voice was low.

“Yes.” Hannah wiped at the tear, feeling foolish. “Sorry. I’m not usually…” She wasn’t usually what? Here—in a barn with a newborn calf and a man that made her feel a thousand things she should not be feeling now? “So silly.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s funny,” he said, turning
his attention to the heifer and her firstborn. “It’s always miraculous. No matter how many times I see it.”

“It doesn’t seem like it would be a pretty thing to watch. And yet…” The mother Lowed again and swiped her baby once more with her long, sandpaper tongue. “Now that I see it…”

“You’ve never seen a calf born before?”

His question caught her off guard. For a while she had forgotten that she’d been hired to care for stock. She was supposed to have some experience. But the truth was so obvious, and her reasons to keep it from him seemed so remote and ridiculous.

“Never,” she said.

For a moment there was silence. Then, leaning forward, Tyrel pulled her into his arms and kissed her. In a moment he drew away.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For the truth,” he said, and kissed her again.

As a thousand sensations flamed through her, she shivered.

“We’d better go in. You’re getting cold.”

No, she wasn’t. She was falling in love, drowning in desire, aching with need. But she said none of those things when he helped her to her feet.

Their journey to the house was slow and silent, but for the crunch of snow beneath their boots. With Tyrel’s arm wrapped .around her shoulders, Hannah felt as if she were floating along on nothing more substantial than a dream.

Inside the house, she removed her gloves and fumbled with her jacket zipper. She must be cold, she realized suddenly, for her fingers were ungainly. Taking them between his own hands, Ty blew his warm breath between his palms and rubbed her fingers gently.

Their eyes met. The kiss was inevitable, yielding, promising. But finally it came to an end. He unzipped her jacket himself. In a moment their outdoor clothing had been left behind and he was leading her into the kitchen where he
urged her into a chair. Going to the refrigerator, he poured milk into a pan, warmed it, added a couple spoonfuls of powdered chocolate, and dumped it into cups.

“Here.” Taking her hands again, he curled them around the mug. “It’ll warm you up. Do you want marshmallows?”

“I’ve got to fit into my overalls,” she reminded him.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, and snorting, dropped two marshmallows into her brew. “If you were any skinnier we’d stick you on a pole in the garden.”

“I’m afraid I feel more like the Wicked Witch than the Scarecrow lately,” she said, and self-consciously tucked a whisper of hair behind her ear.

He watched the gesture and was stunned to think she might actually find herself lacking somehow. He pulled his gaze away with an effort and forced himself to sit down with his hot chocolate in front of him.

“So what about you, Hannah?” he asked softly. “Is there someone waiting for you somewhere?” His stomach roiled and his muscles felt tense as he said the words, but better to learn the truth now than later.

She stared into her mug. “I’ve got a father…somewhere.”

Tyrel let the silence settle in for a moment. “I suppose it wouldn’t be wise to admit I’m waiting on pins and needles for a real answer,” he said.

“No.” The word was nearly whispered. “There’s no one waiting for me.”

And there was a God in heaven.

“Why?” he murmured, unable to understand.

She scowled slightly as she swirled her chocolate, then cleared her throat. “Some men find me rather—cold.”

His heart was making a strange hubbub in his chest. “I’m from North Dakota,” he said. “What other people think is cold we find…” He stared at her as he tried to choose the proper words—
enchanting, intoxicating, mesmerizing.
“Damn near tropical,” he said finally.

“Really?” she murmured, and for a moment he wondered if she had stopped breathing.

“Yeah,” he said, and kissed her again.

The next three hours passed like so many seconds. They talked of everything from movies to horseshoes, skydiving to powdered milk, until finally Ty urged her to her feet and toward the stairs.

“You’d better go to bed,” he said, and though he knew he was a cad, he couldn’t help adding, “Alone?”

She nodded, but the motion was slow and less than enthusiastic.

There was not only a God, but He was kind.

Smiling, Ty escorted Hannah to her room, and there in the doorway, he kissed her good-night.

“Sorry I kept you up so late,” he murmured, knowing it was a lie, that he wouldn’t trade a moment of the time they had spent together. “Sleep in late tomorrow. It’s Sunday.”

“And the cows don’t need to be fed on Sunday?”

“Not by you,” he said, and because he couldn’t stop himself, he kissed her again, then drew a heavy breath, trying to tear himself away. It didn’t work. “You’re sure you won’t be lonely in there all by yourself?”

“I’ve got Sean,” she whispered.

“Those movie stars have all the luck.” One more kiss. Just one more. But it stretched out. “Maybe I should check under your bed. For bogeymen?” he said, letting his kisses slip to her throat.

She leaned back against the doorjamb, breathing hard, her eyes closed and her slim fingers clasped in his shirt.

He kissed the tiny hollow between her collarbone, then moved lower, breathing in her scent, her presence, the very essence of her.

“Ty, please…” Her hands tightened, pushing him away. The kiss ended. Her eyes opened, finding his. “I’m not ready.”

Tyrel stared into her eyes, then, clamping a tight hand on his more feral urges, he managed one step back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered, and reaching out, laid a soft palm against his cheek.

He blew out a breath and tried to relax.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Me? Hell, yeah.”

She smiled a little.

“I’ll just…” He nodded toward the stairs. “I’ll just go have myself a roll in the snow. I’ll be fine.”

She laughed, the sound low and seductive. “
I’m
sorry.”

“No.” Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Good night, Hannah. Sleep in,” he repeated, and managed, to his utter amazement, to walk away.

D
ESPITE HER BEST EFFORTS
to sleep in as Ty had suggested, Hannah awoke just after seven. She’d had four hours of sleep, and yet she felt as if she could fly.

Sitting up, she glanced out her window. The sun shone out of a robin’s egg sky. Feeling giddy, she hugged her legs for a moment before hopping out of bed.

Beneath the weak shower spray, she sang a few lines from a Garth Brooks song, then laughed at her feeble attempt. Glancing in the mirror, she decided rouge was unnecessary, and foundation somehow seemed silly here. So she swiped her lashes with a little mascara, and still humming, pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, then hustled downstairs.

The kitchen was deserted. Impatient to see Tyrel, she slipped into her borrowed jacket, then stopped herself at the door. What was wrong with her? She was a Vandegard and a Clifton. She couldn’t pursue a man.

Of course not, she thought She’d go feed Daniel and run into Ty by
accident.

Giggling, she mixed the calf replacer into a bucket of warm water and hurried out the door.

“S
O, BROTHER, LOOKS LIKE
I owe you some money, huh?” Nate said.

He’d returned home just before dawn and must be tired as
hell. But he looked as bright eyed and irritating as usual, Ty thought.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, pushing a white-faced calf into a stall as Nate shooed the worried cow in after.

“Your expression,” Nate said, pulling the gate shut only enough so that Ty could hurry back out before the new mother took offense at his presence.

He did so now. They pulled the gate firmly closed and glanced over the top two-by-four at the pair. They would be fine, just needed a little solitary confinement to help them bond properly.

“What about my expression?” Ty asked, scowling at his younger brother.

Nate grinned square back into his face. “Yep. While the cats were away, the mice were aplay.”

“You’re nuts,” Ty said, and turning, fetched a half bale of straw and tossed it into the newly occupied stall. Taking a pitchfork from the wall, he stepped inside and spread the bedding.

“Nuts, am I?” Nate asked, watching his brother work. “Maybe so, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s love in the country.” Putting his hand dramatically over his heart, he burst into his usual inane lyrics.

Finished with his job, Ty stepped from the stall and closed the gate behind him. “The wonderful thing about you, Nate, is you can talk forever about nothing.”

“’Cuz,” Nate continued, ignoring his brother’s words as he followed him toward the door, “the bet was
she
had to kiss
you.
And not the other way around. There’s a fine distinction there.”

Ty hung the fork near the door and turned away.

“So which was it?” Nate continued, dogging him like a heeler on a recalcitrant bull. “Did she kiss you or not? ‘Cuz I’m sure not gonna fork over that ten bucks unless she took the initiative.”

Ty stopped near the door, remembering Hannah in the barn, in his arms, in his dreams. He couldn’t forget the euphoric
feelings of the night before, but they were now mingled with an inexplicable foreboding and a nagging fear. He and Hannah came from different worlds. Although he knew almost nothing about her, he knew that much, and his ravaging desire for her would not change that. “I think I might be in over my head, Nate,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Nate’s grin only broadened. “She
did
kiss you!” he crowed. “So she ain’t the ice princess you thought she was, huh?”

Disgusted and confused, Ty pushed open the door. “Shut up, N—” he began, but before he finished the words, a bucket of milk hit him square in the face.

He gasped and stumbled back, arms spread wide. “Hannah!”

She stood before him, eyes blazing.

“A bet?” she said, her voice low.

“Hannah…” He felt breathless and stupid. “It’s not like it sounds.”

“Not like it sounds?” Her voice was shrill. “Then you didn’t make a bet about me?”

Ty winced. “I didn’t know you then.”

“You don’t know me now!” she snapped.

He reached out to touch her arm. She smacked his hand away.

“How much would you have won if I’d have.
slept
with you?” she asked.

“Dammit, Hannah, it’s not like that!” Ty said, grabbing her arm again.

She swung the plastic bucket like a spiked mace, then threw it ferociously to the ground and stomped off.

He lunged after her, but Nate snagged his jacket, holding him back.

“Listen, Tyrel,” he said, voice low as he watched Hannah run for the house. “Sometimes you’re dense as a rock, but you’re my only brother and I don’t want to see you killed.” He nodded toward Hannah’s fleeing figure. “You’d better wait till she cools down.”

Ty loosened his fists and blew out a hard breath. The milk was starting to congeal on his face and had seeped down his chest and into his underwear. “How long do you think that will be?”

BOOK: Counterfeit Cowgirl (Love and Laughter)
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