A Cowboy's Touch (18 page)

“I saw her photo in Maddy’s room. She looked happy.” She felt his appraisal and looked at him.

He looked away. “She was, early on, when we were close. But after Maddy came along . . . things changed.”

“Too wrapped up in motherhood?” Abigail clutched the quilt, afraid if she so much as moved, it would spoil things.

“She was never wrapped up in Maddy. She was too . . .”

She was sure he’d been about to say something important. “Too . . . ?”

She waited for his reply. Two fireworks flared in the sky, three booms sounded.

“It’s in the past. Gotta keep moving forward. Nothing you can do about what’s already done.”

Abigail kept the disappointment from her face. “True.” No reason his reply had to be a dead end. “Is that why you moved to Montana?”

“Needed a fresh start.”

She nodded. “Sometimes it’s easier to leave bad memories behind.”

“Exactly.”

The song on the loudspeakers wound down, and strains of “God Bless America” began.

She sensed Wade shutting down, so she attempted to lighten the mood. “Why Moose Creek, Montana? I mean, it’s charming, but it’s barely a dot on the map.”

“That was part of its appeal.” He paused for a thunderous boom. “Dylan’s grandfather had a ranch here, and Dylan brought me here when we were boys. I loved it. The wide-open spaces, the sky stretching on forever. Not to mention the horses and cattle and mountains. When I needed a place to start over, it seemed ideal.”

“Didn’t you feel like an outsider at first? It’s a close-knit community.”

“A little. Dylan’s grandfather took me under his wing and introduced me around. He was highly respected around these parts.”

“He passed away?”

“Circle D was his ranch. Dylan inherited it.”

“How did you come to own Stillwater?”

“It was on the market when I was looking to make the move. I bought it before we came out here, stock and all. Best thing I ever did.”

Most men only dreamed of the life Wade had had in Texas. He was a rodeo champion, a celebrity, and he made a bundle of money. Why was he so glad he’d exchanged all that for an endless job that barely paid its way?

“Why’s that?”

He shot her a look. “ ’Bout as nosy as Maddy.”

“Sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t really.

“Been good for Maddy. A safe, God-fearing community. Wouldn’t trade what we have here for everything I had back in Texas.”

Abigail was more aware of all he’d given up than he knew. She had to respect that he didn’t regret leaving it. She wished she could return to the topic of Lizzie, but she didn’t want to press her luck.

“Still having headaches?” he asked.

“Not today.” Abigail propped her elbows on her folded knees.

“If you need a break from Maddy, let me know. I’ll work something out.”

His concern tweaked her guilt. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. My mom is the one who insisted I take some time off.” She shifted to a new subject quickly to avoid questions about her job. “My dad’s health woes started with hypertension, so she’s worried mine’ll progress like his did.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like being idle. She asked me to come out and check on Aunt Lucy. Mom was afraid she might be losing her faculties.”

“Lucy Bowers? She might be a little eccentric—”

Abigail shot him a look.

“Okay, a lot eccentric, but she’s right as rain.”

“I hope so.”

The song built to a crescendo and the fireworks came in quick succession now, booms reverberating through the night, flashes and sparks lighting and sizzling. Families around them began gathering their things, but she sat still, content to watch to the end. Wade was motionless too, apparently in no hurry to beat the crowd.

When the display came to a noisy end, the crowd cheered and whistled. Abigail smiled at the enthusiasm. The music and fireworks over, quiet fell over the hill.

Abigail pulled the blanket from her shoulder and stood.

Wade retrieved the sparklers and gathered the blanket. “Need a ride?”

“You mind?”

He shrugged. “Going there myself.” He set the blanket around her shoulders. “Save me from carrying it.”

Abigail wrapped up in the quilt, glad for its warmth, and they started down the hill. It seemed darker than ever with the flare of fireworks gone. Thick clouds of smoke hung overhead, veiling the moon and stars, and carrying the smell of fireworks. She breathed deeply.

“You might want to pull the blanket up off the—”

Abigail’s foot caught on the quilt and she stumbled. She caught herself easily and snatched the blanket higher. Her face grew warm. “You just had to jinx me.”

“Yeah, it was all my fault.” Wade’s lips twitched.

She made it to the bottom without further incident, and when they reached the boardwalk, they joined the crowd. The streetlamps lit their way now. Decorative flags fluttered in the wind overhead, and the sounds of idle chatter and footsteps on the boarded walk filled the night.

Wade greeted friends with a wave or a tip of his hat. As they neared the fringe of town, the crowd dwindled. Families called good night to one another and went toward separate vehicles, and the sounds of the crowd were replaced by the chirping crickets and the whispering wind.

They left the walk and cut through a park on the edge of town. Soon it was just the two of them. Abigail was conscious of their isolation, of their lone footsteps swishing through the tall grass. She took two steps for every one of his.

“Not much farther,” Wade said. “What I get for arriving after the parade started.” He seemed to realize she was trailing and slowed his pace.

“Won’t Maddy beat us home?”

“Doubt it. The fairground was packed, and Shay had the kids with her and all the stuff that goes with it.”

Moments later the truck came into view at the edge of the park. Any cars that had been parked nearby were gone. A lone streetlamp shone down on the old red Ford.

Wade opened the passenger door, made sure she and the blanket were tucked in, then shut the door. She appreciated the gentlemanly gesture, couldn’t remember the last time someone had opened her car door.

She buckled her belt. The cab smelled like Wade. Leather and earth and some indefinable masculine scent. She pulled in a lungful of the fragrance. Nice.

The driver’s door opened and Wade got in. One jangle of the keys later and the truck turned over.

Abigail felt a yawn coming on and covered her mouth. Many nights in the city she stayed up well past midnight working, yet it was barely past eleven and she was fighting sleep. She’d become accustomed to the different routines here. Life on a ranch had a way of aligning with nature’s rhythms and cadences.

She settled into the seat, leaning back. As Wade pulled onto the street, she smothered another yawn.

“Past your bedtime?” Wade asked.

“I can’t believe I’m so tired. I’m a night owl.”

“Used to think I was too. Now I get my best work done in the morning.”

“Think it has something to do with the slower pace? I mean, there’s not much nightlife in Moose Creek.”

“God probably intended people to retire at dark and rise at light, don’t you think?”

“Probably. I guess the body has a way of resetting its circadian rhythms. I’ll have to ask my sister.”

“The doctor?”

“Mm-hmm
.” The hum of the engine and slow rocking of the truck weren’t helping. It had been a long, full day, and she’d been on her feet most of it.

Wade turned onto the main road that would take them to the ranch. Abigail closed her eyes and drew the blanket tighter even as she felt heat blowing through the vents. It felt good to have someone else in the driver’s seat. To let someone else take charge, and to know she was in good hands.

It was a strange thought to have about someone whom she was investigating. Deep down, at the core, she didn’t believe he’d had anything to do with his wife’s death. How could she feel so safe if she thought him guilty? She took a deep breath and let it out. No need to think about this now.

She pulled her arms from the quilt, sank deeper into the seat, leaned her head against the door. She just wanted to rest her eyes for a few minutes, then she’d feel recharged. Maybe she could do some research once she got back. Maddy would probably sleep in tomorrow since she’d stayed out late.

Abigail rewound her thoughts to the fireworks, to her conversation with Wade. He was nice to talk to. Nice to be with. Nice to look at.

She didn’t even chide herself for the thought. She was too tired. Besides, he
was
nice to look at. He was a good dad, a good friend, a gentleman. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t been snatched up by some woman from the Big Sky State.

Her thoughts swam through her head, growing fuzzier and more ambiguous until they were gone altogether . . .

“Abigail.”

She barely heard the warm, low drawl.

“Abigail.”

Her eyes popped open.

Wade was staring. “Wake up. We’re home.”

She looked around, orienting herself. “I wasn’t asleep.”

“Truck’s been off two minutes.”

She had dozed off then. What had Wade been doing those two minutes? Watching her sleep? She nearly asked, but the look on his face answered her silent question. The same look he’d had on the hill. His eyes, shadowed under the brim of his hat, were heavy-lidded, pensive.

She drew in a lungful of the musky scent that was all Wade. She was wide awake now. Her gaze fell to his slightly crooked nose, to his chiseled jawline, covered now with a day’s growth of stubble.

Must touch. The pads of her fingers tingled under the prickly scruff. She met his eyes again and knew he welcomed the touch. An ache formed in the middle of her stomach, burning for him to do everything his look promised.

Then his jaw clenched under her hand, and he closed his eyes as a look of torment passed over his features.

18

A
bigail watched Wade open his eyes, watched regret replace the wanting.

Her hand fell to her side.

“We can’t . . .” he whispered.

She fought against the pull of reason. She didn’t want to think past the yearning, she wanted to surrender to it.

“You work for me,” he continued. “It’s just not . . .” He seemed to struggle with his thoughts, his words. “You’re Maddy’s nanny.”

“So . . . ?” She placed her hand over his and found it knotted in a fist.

He tore his eyes from her. “Not looking for a relationship.” Something in the way he said it made her think it was more than a temporary condition.

Abigail wondered why, wondered if the reason was buried somewhere in the secrets of his past. Her own reasons were starting to surface, beginning with the conflict of interest. “Fair enough.” He was right. She knew it, but she didn’t have to like it.

“It would just be—”

She waved him off. “I get it. You’re right.” She said it with more conviction than she felt. She wondered if he was aware that his fist clenched repeatedly.

“All right, then.”

“All right.” She pulled her hand from his.

He gave her a tense smile. “I mean, we can handle this.”

Living under the same roof. Chemistry galore. “We’re both adults.”

“And it’s only . . .” He swallow hard. “Eight more weeks.”

Eight weeks. Fifty-six days. But who was counting? “Exactly.”

Wade shifted awkwardly, seeming to realize that his calculation made it seem even worse.

A moment later, Abigail opened the truck door. “Well. Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Abigail exited the truck and dashed toward the house. She needed space. Space between her and Wade. It had been an atypical scenario tonight, she reassured herself as she bounded up the porch steps, entered the house. Dark night, romantic fireworks, handsome cowboy. It would all seem different come morning.