Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (69 page)

She watched her daughter slip a tiny hand into the rancher’s larger one. So much trust glowed in the little girl’s dark eyes that it made Emma feel all soft and warm inside. She gulped. If she didn’t watch out, she’d lose herself to the man she’d once practically accused of being an arrogant bully. Safeguarding her heart would be so much easier if she’d been right about that first impression. But Colt had another side. A tender side. A side that had won her over, despite frequent reminders that
love
and
forever
weren’t cards in the hand they’d been dealt.

She’d spent a lifetime waiting for a man like Colt. His kisses made her feel alive. His touch played with her senses. His low voice toyed with her emotions so much she’d even considered sleeping with the man just to get it over with. But she sensed that making love to Colt would be like eating a single potato chip. Though people swore they could stop after just one, no one had the willpower to walk away.

She was pretty sure she didn’t.

So, no. There’d be no sleeping—or not sleeping—with Colt. Not now. Not ever.

It was the best way, the only way, to keep from falling in love with the man.

Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.

“Look at me, Mommy! I’m riding!” With Colt’s strong arms wrapped around her, Bree waved from her perch astride Star.

Thankful for dark sunglasses that hid her watering eyes, Emma summoned a smile. She waved and quickly pointed the camera. She’d had those two arms around her own waist. She knew the strength in them. Better still, she knew how much Colt cared for her daughter.

“Do you see me, Mommy? Are you watching?”

Emma lassoed her wandering thoughts. Her fears that Bree might overreact and cause a problem were proven groundless by the little girl who hung on Colt’s every word. The child who often displayed the attention span of a gnat grew even more focused with every trek around the corral. That didn’t stop Emma from holding her breath when Colt turned the reins over to the child, but Bree handled them as if she’d been guiding a horse all her life.

The sun’s last rays reflected off golden clouds by the time Colt lifted Bree from the saddle. He doffed the little girl’s hat and sent the beaming child toward the gate. Seconds later, Bree rushed into Emma’s outstretched arms.

“This is the best day of my life!” her little drama queen gasped. “Did you see me? Can I see the pictures? Can I? Can I?”

“I’m so proud of you.” Emma aimed a kiss for Bree’s cheek and missed, landing it on the little girl’s nose. “We’ll play the video on the TV before you go to bed tonight.”

From the far side of the corral, Colt inclined his head. “Daylight’s wasting,” he called.

Pressed into babysitting service, Josh pushed away from the rail where he’d been watching with Chris and Tim. He moseyed over and leaned down to Bree.

“You know, there’s an owl in the barn. She’s made her nest up in the rafters. If we’re real quiet, we might get to hear the baby owls chirping.”

Bree stared up at him. “We had pigeons where I used to live. I got to feed them,” she said importantly.

“Columbidae.” Josh nodded. “We don’t have a lot of those here, but we have other kinds of birds. Flamingos and spoonbills and ibis and...”

“You know a lot about birds, Josh?” Emma interrupted before Bree lost interest.

The young man’s ears pinked. “Yeah. It’s kind of a passion. Mr. Ty, he likes ’em, too. I showed him the best nesting areas. We’re gonna camp out there for the Audubon Society’s bird count next winter.”

So the boy was a budding ornithologist. She wondered if Colt knew.

“Can we see Maize’s puppies, too?” Bree tugged on her new friend’s hand.

“Sure,” Josh agreed. “Now that their eyes are open, you can hold one of them. If you’re real gentle.”

“I will be,” Bree promised.

Under the careful watch of the two kitchen assistants and Josh, Bree skipped toward the barn while Emma stepped into the corral. Sand shifted over the tops of her sneakers and, within seconds, she understood why everyone on the ranch wore boots. But any thought of shopping for a pair faded when she peered up into Colt’s face in the fading light.

It wasn’t just the thought of taking her first horseback ride that had her heart tripping over itself. A desire to trail her fingers along the stubble that graced his firm jaw stirred within her. She wrenched her gaze away from deep-set eyes to study the perfect lips that were mouthing instructions.

The horse. Yeah. She was here to ride a horse. It took some doing but she whipped her attention to the matter at hand.

Grasping a handful of mane the way Colt showed her, she hoped she didn’t look nearly as awkward as she felt when she stuck one foot into the stirrup. Colt’s hands at her waist boosted her confidence enough that she gritted her teeth and bounced into the air. And then, just like that, she was up. Her leg cleared the horse’s wide rump. Leather creaked and the saddle shifted ever so slightly as she swung her way into it. She stabbed her free foot into the other stirrup before she looked down.

“Whoo!” she gasped as the realization that she was so high atop a living, breathing animal sent a wave of vertigo crashing over her. She clutched the pummel with two hands. “I don’t know about this...” she began.

Before she could finish, Colt swung onto the blanket behind the saddle. His torso pressed against her back, sending an electrifying current straight through her. She heard the sharp intake of his breath, felt the slight tightening of his forearms and knew he felt the same thing.

Colt cleared his throat. Rather than leaning down to kiss her as she hoped he would, he clucked gently at the horse. Star moved at once. The animal’s rolling gate startled a laugh out of her chest. Soon, though, she was mesmerized by the horse’s gentle sway, the jangle of metal, the plodding sound Star’s hooves made despite the loose sand.

“I could get used to this,” she breathed.

“Our horses are well trained.” Colt’s matter-of-fact answer whispered through her hair. “That doesn’t mean they won’t try to get away with something every once in a while, so you need to know what you’re doing when you’re around them.”

Though her hands felt like they were all thumbs, he gave her the reins. “Horses’ mouths are sensitive. A gentle tug is all that’s necessary to tell them the way you want to go.”

She was sure she’d fail. Sure the big horse wouldn’t listen to a single word she said, much less a tug on the reins. But Colt believed she could do this, and once again, she reminded herself how much she trusted the big rancher. With his fingers at her waist he talked her through a series of figure eights. To her growing amazement, Star responded to her every command.

“Now pull up on the reins,” Colt said long after the last glimmers of light had faded from the sky.

She did as she was told, and Star plodded to a halt.

“You done good.” Colt’s arms wrapped her closer to him. “Next time, you can ride him all by yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Emma hedged.

Colt tsked. “Sweetheart, everybody on the Circle P rides. It’s part of what we do.”

“Yeah, but...” She took a breath. “I like this.” She snugged his arms tighter around her waist. “I kind of wish things would stay the same.”

Even as she said the words, she knew they could never come true. Colt wasn’t here to stay. His life was on the road, his future tied to the PBR, his stint as manager of the Circle P a short one. Trouble was, the more she pictured the permanent home she and her daughter would make on the ranch, the more certain she was she’d wind up with an unhealthy helping of broken heart to go along with it.

Because, despite her best efforts to the contrary, she’d fallen for Colt Judd. And she’d fallen hard.

Chapter Ten

“They’re putting Arlene in the hospital till the baby comes.” Once firm and strong, Doris’s voice trembled.

“But that’s months away. Isn’t Arelene’s due date sometime in October?” Air whistled between Colt’s teeth. He bent beneath the weighty news. Garrett had to be going out of his mind, he thought. His mother, too. He pressed the receiver closer to his ear. “You need me to come? I can be there tomorrow.”

“No, son. You stay and take care of the ranch. Knowing it’s in your hands, that’s a huge load off my mind. Especially with Ty and Sarah gone. Have you heard from them?”

“Not a word.” But then again, he hadn’t expected to. The owners had made it pretty clear nothing less than a hurricane or wildfire were reason enough to interrupt their much-delayed honeymoon. So far, Colt hadn’t placed a single call to the fire department. With any luck, Ty and Sarah would return before the storm season began.

“And our new cook? Is she working out the way your dad thought she would?”

“Emma?” Colt asked as if he needed a reminder. “She’s fine.”

Better than fine, actually. Ever since that first sleepless night, he’d made a habit of wandering into the kitchen once Bree was tucked in for the evening. While Emma concocted something reasonably close to one of the Circle P’s famed dishes, he relished his role as her official taste tester. So far, he wouldn’t call their experiments a rousing success, but that was okay. They weren’t in any hurry. Besides, he didn’t mind helping out. Not as long as he could steal the occasional kiss. Or find an excuse to brush against Emma’s slim hips. Maybe trace a lazy circle across her shoulders. Afterward, they invariably ended up on the couch, where the woman’s kisses left him hungry and aching for more.

Despite a growing urge to take things to the next level, he’d resisted. And why was that, he wondered. He’d certainly knocked boots with one or two gals back when he was rodeoing, though he’d left those days behind when he hung up his bull rope and gold buckles. Being around Emma stirred a sense that he could have it all, as long as white picket fences and wide front porches were part of the package. Something that, lately, he’d considered more and more.

Suddenly aware that long seconds had passed while his mom waited for him to continue, he cleared his throat. There were some topics even a grown man didn’t discuss with his mother. His relationship with Emma was one of them. He let the subject of the new cook drop.

“Give Arlene and Garrett my best. Tell ’em I’m prayin’ for ’em.”

Before he had a chance to follow through, the phone rang again. Colt straightened out of a weary slouch as the representative from
Beaks and Wings
apologized for calling so late. He squinted at a clock that told him several hours stretched before suppertime. He was still trying to figure out what the guy meant when, without further warning, he found himself knee-deep in a discussion about arrival dates and shooting schedules. A glance at the calendar nearly made his knees weak—would have, if he’d been standing—but he kept his doubts to himself. Instead, he asked a few questions and jotted even fewer answers while he offered assurances that, of course, the Circle P could host a weekend trail ride in—he gulped—four days. Hanging up five minutes later, he drummed his fingers on the desktop.

Did the unexpected visit from a major birding magazine qualify as
flames
or
storms?

He told himself it did not and set to work. He’d just finished jotting down a long list of tasks when the dinner bell sounded. He sniffed the air, noticing for the first time the tantalizing aroma of his favorite dish. Grabbing his notepad, he strode toward the kitchen. Over the past three weeks he’d softened his approach with the men, but this—he shook the pad of paper—this changed things.

His gaze landed on the pork chops Emma had prepared. Thick and browned, they were probably fine for anyone else’s table, but they definitely weren’t Southern-fried the Circle P way. He took in the rest of the buffet and kicked himself. He’d been so wrapped up in his growing fondness for the new cook he hadn’t paid enough attention to the important stuff. The impending arrival of special guests meant everything on the Circle P had to be perfect, including the food. Which, from what he was seeing, looked too much like it came from a froufrou New York restaurant and not at all like the ranch’s traditional hearty fare.

Biding his time, he pushed food around on his plate while the ranch hands ate their fill.

“Listen up,” he said, coming to his feet before everyone scattered in different directions. “I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news.” He didn’t wait to ask which they wanted first, but plunged ahead.

“You all know how hard it is to keep a spread the size of the Circle P afloat. Opening up our spring and winter roundups to tourists, that’s given our bottom line a considerable boost. Ty—Mr. Parker—wants to add to that by taking folks on bird-watching tours. He’s already started advertising them. Which is why I’m talking to you now. I just got off the phone with
Beaks and Wings.
”

At the mention of the magazine most folks considered birding’s version of the
National Geographic,
Josh’s head rose. Colt scanned the long table. No one else seemed to care.

“Seems they’ve run into a problem with their summer issue. They need to reshoot it, and...they’ve decided to give us a try. So we’re going to hafta pull together a trail ride for them.” He paused for a beat. “The reporter and photographer will be here Friday and Saturday.”

“What’s the good news?” one of the men shot back.

At his place near the end of the table, Josh’s brow furrowed. “I thought that
was
the good news.”

The boy’s comment drew hoots of laughter from the older hands.

“The good news,” Colt corrected, “is that ya’ll draw time and a half for the weekend. The bad news is, startin’ at first light tomorrow, we’re gonna be busier than a pickup rider at the rodeo.”

He let the grumbling die down before he started handing out assignments. “Josh, you get down to Little Lake. The trails have grown over since the spring cattle drive. Trim the bushes back far enough that we can ride two abreast.”

To his surprise, Josh shook his head. “Mr. Colt, this ain’t the right time of year to trim those bushes. The birds eat the berries.”

The kid had the audacity to argue with him?

Colt squelched a comeback and moved to the next item on his list. “Tim and Chris, we’re gonna want a big campfire Friday evening. Make it happen. The housekeeping staff’ll scrub the bunkhouse by the lake from top to bottom.” He went on, finally reaching the last—and most difficult—item. He toughened his stance.

“Emma, there’s a menu for the trail rides posted on a clipboard in the pantry. Make sure you stick with it.” He gestured toward the tiny peaks the cook had piped around a nearly empty bowl of mashed potatoes. “None of this fancy stuff. Just good, plain food and plenty of it. That’s what the Circle P’s known for.”

From the way Emma flinched, he’d have thought someone slapped her. Maybe he’d been a touch too harsh, he admitted, but a good review from
Beaks and Wings,
or better yet, landing on the magazine’s list of premier birding destinations, meant money in the Circle P’s coffers. He wouldn’t let anyone, not even the woman who’d stolen his heart, stand in the way.

* * *

H
ER
MOUTH
DRY
, Emma stared at Colt. To say these past few weeks had been the best of her life, well, that was an understatement. Having Bree at her side during the day and listening to her daughter’s sweet now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep at night were simple pleasures she’d longed for during their hectic years in New York. As for her work, seeing the Circle P’s hungry ranch hands scarf down every morsel she put in front of them ignited a warm spot in her chest.

Best of all, though, were the nights Colt joined her at the stove. They’d spend hours cooking, tasting, adjusting—and, yes, kissing—while they struggled to re-create a favorite dish. Afterward, they’d tiptoe into the great room. There, they poured a glass of wine, a beer, some sweet iced tea. They talked—about their lives, their dreams, their hopes for the future. And they kissed. Oh, how they kissed. The man could take her breath away with a single hooded glance.

But, from the instant she’d spotted the pages of the cookbook in their watery bath, she’d known this day would come. She’d done everything possible to delay the inevitable. She’d slaved over the ruined recipes, carefully peeled the pages apart, smoothed and, even, ironed a few. She’d used a magnifying glass, consulted restoration experts, searched the Circle P from top to bottom in hopes of finding a scribbled copy, a note, anything that would help her make sense of faded and smeared ink. Through it all, she’d prayed that when it finally came down to a choice, Colt would choose her over the traditions of the Circle P.

But this list. At least one of the recipes on it was lost forever.

She fanned her face with the slip of paper. Okay, so she’d made mistakes. She’d faced a learning curve when she first came to the ranch. Men who performed hard, physical labor ate more than the diners in upscale restaurants. She got that. She adjusted.

Still, she knew food. Just as important, she knew how to impress a food critic. Hadn’t tour guides and reviewers visited Chez Larue practically every night of the week? She knew without a doubt that the people from
Beaks and Wings
wouldn’t be satisfied with Colt’s plain-food-and-plenty-of-it mantra. Any more than they’d be happy trekking through miles of palmetto and pine trees without spotting the spoonbills Josh had mentioned.

Pondering this last, she plunged her hands into her pockets and waited until the shuffle of boots across the floor faded. When the screened door slapped shut behind the last ranch hand and they were alone, she turned to Colt.

“Can we talk?” She barely got the words out before his hand chopped the air.

“The menu’s set, Emma.” The face she loved hardened into stubborn lines that weren’t quite as lovable.

“Not that. Can we talk about Josh?” Waiting, she folded her hands below her waist. If Colt would change his mind about this, maybe, just maybe, he’d consider the compromise she really wanted him to make.

His eyebrows slanted together. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

She deliberately kept her voice soft and low. No matter how much she just wanted to help, she was venturing into an area that technically wasn’t any of her business. “Did you ever think Josh might be right about not trimming the bushes?”

Colt only shook his head. “I’ve told you before, the kid’s lazy.”

“It could be that,” she conceded. “Or...” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve been concerned that he doesn’t fit in here at the Circle P. But he knows more about birds than anyone else on the ranch. More than Ty, even. I think he could help a lot while the people from
Beaks and Wings
are here.”

“You sure about that?” Colt’s eyes homed in on her.

She noted the way he spun his hat in his hand, a movement he made whenever he was uncertain. At last, he scuffed his foot against the tile floor.

“The kid’s always got his nose in a book. Come to think of it, they’re all about birds.” He glanced up, his blue eyes considering. “I’ll talk to him. What else?”

“I know you want this menu.” She tapped one finger on the list. “It’s tradition, and I understand that. I wouldn’t dream of changing it. But this recipe for Brunswick stew? I don’t have it. It’s not in the cookbook. It must have been one of the ones we lost.”

Thunderclouds darkened Colt’s blue eyes. He sank heavily onto a chair. “What are we going to do?”

“Your mom probably knows it by heart. Is there any chance we can ask her?” She had no idea how they’d get the recipe out of Doris without revealing how badly the cookbook had been damaged, but it was a risk she was willing to take. For Colt’s sake, and for her own.

Her heart slid into her throat when a world of worry seemed to settle across his shoulders. Without meeting her eyes, he shook his head. “I don’t see that happening. Arlene’s in the hospital till the baby comes.”

“Oh, Colt.” That changed things. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, thankful she’d breezed through her own pregnancy. “Well, there’s nothing for it, then. I’ll just have to do the best I can. I’ll work on it and have something for you to taste test tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have some other things I want you to try, too.” The instant his posture stiffened she signaled him to stop by holding up her hands. “For now, don’t decide anything. If you like the new dishes tomorrow, we’ll serve them on the trail ride
in
addition
to the traditional fare. If not, well...”

The alternative was too painful to think about, the words too horrible to say out loud. She didn’t want to destroy the Circle P’s customs; she wanted to expand them. To do that, she needed Colt’s blessing. But his tight hold on tradition left no room for negotiation. What kind of future could she have with a man who never compromised?

* * *

C
OLT
EASED
OPEN
the screened door and slipped into the kitchen. The wooden frame firmly in his grasp, he guided the door closed. He held his breath as the lock snicked into place before he spared a glance at the woman on the other side of the room. Emma’s shoulders remained loose. Her hips swaying slightly, she stirred something that smelled just this side of divine on the stove.

Certain he’d escaped her notice, Colt allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy a view that was better than the sun coming up over the pasture. Emma had captured her hair in a ponytail. The ends brushed lightly against her shoulders in time to music only she heard. The heavy white coat she’d worn the day they met hung from a hook near the pantry. She’d traded it for a figure-hugging T-shirt over shorts that exposed enough smooth white skin to make his mouth go dry. He imagined untying her apron, discarding it in a crumpled pile on the floor while she slipped into his arms. They’d kiss, feast on each other until they both were completely sated.