Rodeo Father
Rodeo Father
Mary Sullivan
TEMPTED BY A FAMILY…Travis Read never wanted to settle down anywhere—with anyone. He’s in Rodeo, Montana, just long enough to fix up a house for his sister and he’ll be on his way. Then he meets Rachel McGuire. Beautiful and kind—and with magnetic whiskey-colored eyes—Rachel is everything that Travis could want. Except that Rachel is also very, very pregnant.A struggling widowed mom, Rachel wants to give her family the stability she’s never had. Travis dashed those hopes by buying her dream house. Okay, she can start over. But she wasn’t counting on such a fierce attraction between them. And this cowboy was never meant to settle down…
TEMPTED BY A FAMILY…
Travis Read never wanted to settle down anywhere—with anyone. He’s in Rodeo, Montana, just long enough to fix up a house for his sister and he’ll be on his way. Then he meets Rachel McGuire. Beautiful and kind—and with magnetic whiskey-colored eyes—Rachel is everything that Travis could want. Except that Rachel is also very, very pregnant.
A struggling widowed mom, Rachel wants to give her family the stability she’s never had. Travis dashed those hopes by buying her dream house. Okay, she can start over. But she wasn’t counting on such a fierce attraction between them. And this cowboy was never meant to settle down…
“You can let go of me now…”
Cripes. Travis was holding Rachel with his other arm, tucked against his body and out of harm’s way.
“Oh…sorry…ah, I—” He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t know what he’d been thinking.
A small handful, a perfect fit, her belly hard and warm against him, she belonged in his arms.
It felt natural and good to hold her.
No! No, no, no. He didn’t need a woman in his life right now, especially not one laden with burdens he didn’t want to bear.
A funny smile curled her lips. “I truly can take care of myself, Travis. I deal with stuff like this most nights.”
“I really didn’t know I was doing that.”
“I know. I could tell.”
The feeling of well-being, and the sense of rightness she engendered in him, shook him so badly that he rushed to let her go.
Before he could, the softest of touches flitted across his ribs. Wonder filled him.
The touch had come from Rachel’s big belly.
Dear Reader (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9),
Rodeo Father is my very first Harlequin Western Romance and I am thrilled to be a new member of the Western family.
I have a soft spot for cowboys and babies, so Western fits the bill perfectly for me!
In Rodeo Father, nomadic loner Travis Read arrives in yet another town, determined to stick around only long enough to make a home for his sister and nephews. He will move along the second they are settled.
He doesn’t count on having his heart stolen by the appealing widow who lives across the street, and by her little girl, too. Travis has had enough burdens to last a lifetime, so he doesn’t need this attraction to a pregnant woman.
What he doesn’t realize is the profound depth of his own loneliness and the desire to set down roots he didn’t know existed.
Travis has lived on the outside looking in for too long. When the widow invites him into a world of tenderness and affection he thought existed only for others, he can’t resist.
He has always thought the life of a family man, and of fatherhood, was restricted to others and never meant for him.
Rachel McGuire turns out to be the answer to dreams he wouldn’t admit he’d been having. Rodeo, Montana, becomes home.
I absolutely loved writing Travis and Rachel’s story. I hope you enjoy reading it!
Mary Sullivan
Rodeo Father
Mary Sullivan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A city girl born and raised, MARY SULLIVAN found her mother’s anecdotes about growing up in rural Canada fascinating. Mary’s first career as a darkroom printer fueled her creativity. When traditional darkrooms disappeared with the advent of computers, she learned enough about the machines to use them to fuel her other passion—writing. Once she redirected her energy to creating stories of romance, her mother’s tales came back to her and now she devotes her time to writing about rural life. She chooses cowboys and cowgirls for many of her stories. Her Harlequin Superromance books have won awards and earned wonderful reviews. She is now thrilled to write Harlequin Western Romances, too! She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, marysullivanbooks.com (http://www.marysullivanbooks.com).
To my wonderful agent,
Pamela Hopkins, who continues to have
faith in me book after book after book.
Offering you a profound Thank You.
Contents
Cover (#u8119bc1e-1c0d-50fe-a516-873d5c16d276)
Back Cover Text (#uc46baae8-f7a9-5149-aac2-6f74bef5357f)
Introduction (#ua12e0b28-8f5e-59a3-8bbb-e2653d080f9f)
Dear Reader (#ue4b4492d-ee7d-547b-914c-ab205baa3002)
Title Page (#u7b6addab-2867-52a8-ac6c-c90be3e17f72)
About the Author (#ud28366c8-e4d6-500f-a861-3e481eb556ed)
Dedication (#ufb67b111-dd2b-5913-8a4e-a86c268b608f)
Chapter One (#u1cdc1d44-e47a-5dc5-9d9a-dc19bbb90b76)
Chapter Two (#u08eabd0a-0b23-5aa1-a623-07a54e8aa262)
Chapter Three (#ue91e754b-7743-5299-9de6-6e5f60d42a23)
Chapter Four (#ua85aa167-15fe-51f9-82cb-d420862768c5)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
Travis Read stood on the outskirts of Rodeo, Montana, and stared at the sorriest excuse for a midway he’d ever encountered.
He’d pulled his truck over for a closer look.
Old rides littered the prairie like a county fair graveyard. Rusty signs hung askew.
A hint he should hightail it out of town before he’d even arrived? Maybe, save for one ride. Front and center, a spit-shined carousel stood out from the other decaying machines as though risen fresh from the grave.
Merry-go-rounds weren’t usually on Travis’s radar, whimsy being a stranger in his life, but he had his nephews to think about now.
He’d bet both his old Stetson and broken-in cowboy boots the boys would be tickled by the carousel. He was.
Gleaming in the meager late-October sunshine, the merry-go-round seemed like a good omen.
No way, Travis.
Grimly, he straightened his spine. He didn’t believe in omens, good, bad or otherwise.
“You look like a man who could use a smile.”
A feminine voice drifted out of the early-morning mist that shrouded the hushed countryside, carried on the faint breeze like a melody.
A young woman stepped up behind one of the inanimate ponies on the ride, materializing with a playful smile and a smear of grease across her left cheek.
One fist gripped a wrench and the other a rag, which she used to burnish a gilded saddle on a white pony. The contrast of that wrench and the small hand charmed Travis. No mean feat. He didn’t charm easily.
She thought he could use a smile. Dead right.
The woman grinned and his heart stuttered. Good vibes shimmered from her like sunshine reflecting off clear water.
The corners of his mouth, rusty with disuse, twitched.
“Yes, ma’am, I sure could use one of those.” No sense denying the truth she’d picked up on. “You don’t see many of these around anymore.”
She crossed her arms on the elaborate saddle. “Bet you’ve seen better looking amusement parks.”
“Could use some work.”
She laughed. “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.” As she stared around the downcast place, her expression became subdued.
Her friendliness had lightened up the gray corners of his heart.
“Nothing a little elbow grease won’t cure,” he ventured, clumsy in his attempt to make her smile again.
She drew herself up and grinned. Aaah. Better.
“Yes,” she said. “You’re absolutely right.”
Unnaturally drawn to this attractive stranger, Travis leaned forward, his body pressing against a wood-slat fence that needed a hammer, a whole lot of nails and a few coats of paint.
“Someone’s done a good job on the carousel.” By the look of pride on her face, he’d found the culprit. “Looks great.”
She looked great. Her smile warmed the chill in his heart.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He doffed his Stetson. His mom might not have taught him much, but she’d stressed the importance of good manners. “Travis Read.”
“Rachel McGuire.” Her voice rang like birdsong. “Haven’t seen you around town. Just passing through?”
She rested her chin on her crossed arms, her glance flickering toward his truck and horse trailer parked on the shoulder.
“Looks like you’ll be staying a while?”
He stiffened. He didn’t discuss his life with strangers, a habit ingrained years ago.
Yeah, he planned to stay, but only long enough to get his sister and nephews settled in, and then he’d be moving on.
No sense telling that to Rachel, no matter how attractive he found her humor-filled eyes.
It was none of her business.
“Got hired to work for the Webers,” was all he was inclined to share.
“On the Double U? You’re fortunate. Udall’s a good man. Uma mothers everyone for fifty miles around. As long as you’re a hard worker, they’ll treat you like gold.”
If there were a definition in the dictionary for hard worker it would be his name. He’d toiled since he was old enough to shovel shit and straw.
Enough about him.
He pointed to a sign dotted brown and green with rust and verdigris, which arched above the entrance to the park: Rodeo, Montana, Fairgrounds and Amusement Park, Home of Our World-Famous Rodeo.
“Heard a rumor the town’s planning on resurrecting that rodeo. Next summer?” Maybe he could earn a few extra bucks. He used to be good.
Damned if she didn’t perk right up.
“You rodeo?”
“Been known to ride a bull or two.”
The aurora borealis he’d once seen in northern Alberta had nothing on this woman’s smile.
Rachel brushed a lock of thick hair from her face. He thought the color might be called tawny. It glowed like liquid honey and looked as soft as a calf’s ear.
Her smile dazzled him and sent him off-kilter. She had some powerful mojo that had him falling like a load of bricks. Images tempted him, of cozy nights in his new home with a wood fire burning and a thick blanket on the floor beside the hearth, firelight dancing over golden skin, the two of them naked and indulging in the sweetest exercise known to man—
“Care for a ride?” she asked, eyes wide.
A ride? Was his face that transparent? His cheeks heated like coals in a grill.
His shock must have shown because she frowned and tapped the ornamental saddle. “I won’t make it go too fast if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Ohhhh, that kind of ride.
Well, hell, that was obvious, wasn’t it? She was standing on a carousel in a fairground.
Cripes, Travis, get your mind out of the gutter.
Where the heck had that daydream come from? His dreams had been beaten out of him early on in life.
Even so... A ride on a carousel... He yearned, an ache in his chest for a boyhood that had never existed.
Dusty stirred in the trailer. Travis shouldn’t leave him so long, but temptation swayed him.
He’d never been on an amusement park ride in his life. They’d never had money as kids. Later, he’d been busy keeping himself and Sammy fed and clothed, body and soul patched together with spit and determination.
With the likelihood of him still being here next summer paper-thin, this could be his one chance for a carousel ride.
Take it, that inner little boy who’d missed all of this in childhood urged.
Why not? How long would it take? Five minutes? He could spare that.
A laugh burst out of him. “You bet! I sure would like a ride, and you can make it go as fast as you want.”
As frisky as a young boy, he put a hand on the top rail and hopped over. The structure creaked under his weight.
“You need to shore up that fence.”
A waterfall of feminine laughter cascaded over him. “Ya think?” she asked. “Everything in this park needs work. It’s a never-ending job.”
Travis stepped up onto the carousel.
Up close, Rachel looked even better. His breath backed up in his throat, his world rocked by this one short woman.
She still stood behind the white pony. What he could see of her above its body sure looked fine.
Freckles dotted a pert nose and strong cheekbones. Flecks of gold flashed in eyes lit with an inner glow.
That her hazel eyes and some of the streaks in her hair matched was about the most striking feature he’d ever seen on a woman.
One small freckle dotted her bottom lip.
The tiniest pair of silver cowboy boots hung from stars in her earlobes.
He wondered what the rest of her looked like. With her arms crossed on top of the pony, the too-long sleeves of a plaid flannel jacket covered most of her hands. Her right hand still gripped the wrench.
Inside the collar of her jacket was a prettier shirt collar, Western, pink with white piping and small white flowers embroidered on the tips.
She caught him studying the flowers. “Bitterroot,” she said. “Montana’s state flower.”
A straw cowboy hat with a pink band embroidered with more bitterroot flowers hung behind her on the center column of the ride.
She flung an arm wide to encompass the characters on the old ride. The pungent scent of fresh paint and turpentine wafted from the structure. “Take your pick. I’ve been fine-tuning the engine and oiling her parts to put her to bed for the winter. I need to test her. Might as well have a passenger on board while I do.”
She smiled again. “Waste of energy otherwise, running her with no one on her. This lovely old lady was made to be enjoyed.” In her voice, he heard a world of affection.
“Choose your animal and climb on,” she said.
Travis walked around the carousel and rubbed his hand across the backs of the odd animals—odd for an amusement park ride, that was. Along with the usual horses were a pair of bighorn sheep, a bison, a cow, a white-tailed deer and an elk, all wearing ornate saddles. Strangest darned ride he’d ever seen.
He chose a big black bull.
“Predictable,” Rachel muttered, tempering it with a humorous tone.
“Sorry to disappoint, ma’am, but I’ve never seen a bull on a carousel ride before. It’s big and sturdy.”
In her quick glance down his big body, he saw admiration, but her eyes shifted away too quickly. So was she attracted to him? Or not?
“The bull should hold your weight,” was all she said.
He mounted. It did. He held on to a pair of long hard horns.
“Ready when you are,” he called back over his shoulder when he heard her walk away behind him.
From somewhere near the center column of the big old thing, she called, “Here you go.”
He heard a lever being moved. The ride took a few arthritic strides. Then the engine kicked in and picked up speed.
His breath caught. There was something to be said for taking your first ride as an adult.
“Hang on to your hat, mister. You’re going for the ride of your life.”
On this old thing? Not likely.
He liked her sense of humor. Together, they could have a lot of fu-u-u-u-u-n-n—
The carousel picked up more speed than a machine this large and heavy should. Travis gripped the horns. A breeze rushed past his ears, filling them with whispered sighs and longings he’d thought he’d given up on years ago.
“You want music?” she called.
“Yeah!”
The toots and whistles of a calliope filled the air with the old Beatles song “All You Need Is Love.”
Stress, responsibility and apprehension fell away, lifting his spirits. When had he ever been free?
Unadulterated joy filled him, the kind kids never question, but that had never had a place in Travis’s childhood.
There’d been tangled bits of hope hidden in miserly corners of his world, but there had never been joy.
He let go of the horns and spread his arms wide. The cool wind worked its way through his jacket and shirt, filling him with vitality and refreshing his tired mind. The sun, having finally burned off the morning fog, melted the permafrost of his heart.
His cowboy hat, part of his head for nearly twenty years, flew off.
A huge laugh startled out of him, snatched immediately by the wind and caught by Rachel. He heard her laugh in response.
After a time, the ride slowed and he wiped rivers of tears from his cheeks. He wasn’t crying. No. It was just the wind.
He smiled harder than he had in a long, long time.
“That’s more like it,” Rachel said as she waddled over, satisfaction tinting her tone. “That’s the kind of smile I like to see on a man’s face.”
Whoa. Back up. Waddled?
Her pregnant belly stuck out a mile. His dreams of warm winter nights, a fire in the hearth and a willing partner deflated like a weather balloon in a snowstorm.
The woman was about to pop. What was she having? Triplets?
When other people saw pregnant women, they got warm fuzzies. Not Travis.
Pregnant women made him think about being trapped, about expectations and responsibilities. He’d had his fill of those. Still did. Big time.
He had one big responsibility to handle in this town before hitching a ride on the next good breeze and heading back out.
Reluctantly, he dismounted, his dreams slow to die. But die they did. As always.
Oh, Lord, mischief lurked in Rachel’s hazel eyes. Damn the woman. She’d known exactly how attracted he’d been to her and how shocked he was now.
“Nice meeting you, Travis. I’m sure we’ll see each other around town.” She handed him his hat.
He settled it onto his head slowly, tamping it down with a hard tug, the grown man firmly back in place.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He might be disappointed in her pregnancy, but she’d given him a gift. His gratitude was sincere. He adjusted his expectations and left the carousel, his stride long and fierce.
He couldn’t get away fast enough, driving without a backward glance.
He didn’t believe in new beginnings. No matter where he went, he always ended up in the same old place.
Not so for his nephews. Travis wouldn’t let that happen to Jason and Colt. Damned if he would let them down. They deserved a good home, and he would create one for them here in Rodeo. They would get more out of childhood than he ever had.
Screw your head on right, Travis. Disappointment never killed a man. Get on with it.
With purpose compelling him forward, he put Rachel out of his mind and drove straight to the Double U, where he pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch house with cedar siding and red shutters framing wide windows.
No one answered the front door when he knocked.
He’d been here once before, the day he’d been hired, put in touch with the Webers by an acquaintance, a cowboy he respected and trusted.
That day, he’d taken a tour of the town and had known immediately it would work for Samantha and the boys.
He’d chosen a house for them, one that had been put on the market just a half hour before he stepped into the real estate office. The down payment had been a result of years of having nothing to spend his paycheck on but himself...and he didn’t need much.
A good, solid house. Needed some work, but it had been built well. A safe town. Meant to be.
Travis might not believe in good omens for himself, but he did for his only remaining family.
He ran his new boss, Udall Weber, to ground in the stable.
Udall shook hands with a firm grip. “Good to see you again. You get settled in all right?” A big man with a ruddy complexion, his skin had been ruined by years of hard work in the unforgiving elements.
“Not yet. Got an appointment in an hour to pick up the keys. Meantime, where can I put Dusty?”
“Last stall on the right. First, let’s saddle up for a quick tour of the ranch.”
“Glad to have one.”
“Take the weekend to get yourself organized. Monday will be soon enough to start work. We got fences that need mending before winter.”
Travis backed his horse out of the trailer. Dusty, a solid gray gelding he’d owned for a dozen years, had covered a lot of miles with him. His brief visits to get Sammy and the boys out of Vegas and settled in San Francisco seemed like a bad dream here on the stunning Montana prairie.
“Park your trailer behind the barn beside mine.” Udall pointed to a spot. “Don’t mind if you store it there for the winter till you get your place set up.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” His place never would be set up, not for permanently holding cattle.
His clothes were in a bag on the backseat of his pickup truck. His motorcycle rested in the bed. What else did he need?
Sammy’s voice rang in his head. You need a home, Travis. Put roots down somewhere and stay for longer than a year.
Nope.
“You meet anyone in town yet?” Udall asked, breaking into his thoughts.
A picture of whiskey-colored eyes and tawny hair flashed across his memory. “I stopped at the amusement park outside of town. Met a woman named Rachel.”
The corners of Udall’s mouth turned down. “Rachel McGuire.”
Travis frowned. “You don’t like her?”
“I like her fine. Lovely young woman. She’s got a rough road ahead, though. Husband’s dead and she’s pregnant, with another little one already at home.”
“Jeez, that’s tough.”
Wind knocked out of him, Travis had to admit he was one of the lucky ones. Sure, he had his problems, but that poor woman...what a future she had facing her.
His admiration grew. How she’d kept her good humor boggled his mind. Another kid at home as well as one on the way? Warning bells clanged. No matter how much he admired the woman, he’d be keeping his distance.
“What’s with the carousel? It’s great, but the rest of the place looks abandoned.”
“We got us a committee that’s reviving the park. They’ve set their sights on getting it up and running by next summer.”
“Think they can?” Considering what he’d seen today, Travis had his doubts.
“If anyone can, it would be Rachel and her gang.”
With a rough laugh, Udall strode away to saddle up, his denim jeans and shirt emphasizing his lean, hard frame.
Travis saddled Dusty, a chore he’d done thousands of times before. This was where he belonged, with horses and ranchers. Running his hand along the horse’s neck, he murmured, “You survive the trip okay, boy?”
He rode out with his new boss onto land as pretty as any he’d ever seen. He’d been raised in Arizona, a state with its own brand of stark beauty, but often arid. He liked the colors of Montana.
“Monday morning, we’ll get you out trailing,” Udall said. “One of the hands spotted a dozen cattle holed up in the gully at the south edge of the property.”
Travis followed him out onto the range.
“In his reference letter, Lester Green said you’re one of the best he’s ever seen at flushing cattle out of tough spots and bringing them home. Said you did real good up in Wyoming last fall.”
“Yeah. Lester was a good boss.” Travis loved trailing, one of his favorite jobs. “It’s late to be finishing up gathering cattle for the winter, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Had a couple of the hands out sick. Some kind of flu goin’ ’round.”
They spotted a sheep caught on a piece of damaged fence on the far side of a field of dormant alfalfa.
“You keep sheep?” Travis asked.
“My neighbor raises them and spins her own yarn.”
Together, they got the distressed animal off the fence, but not before it kicked Travis in his ribs.
He hissed.
“That hurt, I bet.” Udall said.
Travis rubbed the injury. “Part of the job.”
Udall set the animal loose on its own side of the fence. “I’ll come back with tools tomorrow and fix this.”
“Let me.”
Udall shot him a surprised look. “You sure? You only just got here.”
“I’m sure. Just spent too many days on the road. I’m itchy to get out on the land.”
Udall smiled approvingly. They mounted and rode on.
So darned glad to be back in the country, Travis breathed deeply of fresh air purer than anything he’d ever found in any city.
His worries fell away, leaving only the wind in his ears, the sun on the prairie and the warmth of the animal beneath him.
Chapter Two (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
Rachel McGuire rested her head against the inanimate pony’s unforgiving neck, unsure whether to laugh or have a good, hard cry.
What on earth had just happened to her poor battered heart?
The second she’d laid eyes on the new arrival, Travis Read, she’d been attracted to him.
What kind of man could melt her hardened heart with just a look from blazing blue eyes, the rustiest of smiles and so few words? And not just her heart, but also her pregnant body, waking it from a long slumber.
Could the timing possibly be worse?
What kind of poor, dumb fool was she for finding a man so attractive when she was more than seven months pregnant, and as big as that horse she’d heard shuffling in his trailer?
She’d wanted to flirt. But why would he ever be interested in her?
That smile? When he’d ridden the carousel? Oh, sweet heavenly pumpkins, pure and utter joy.
She’d given him a simple ride on a carousel, and he’d smiled at her as though she’d hung the moon.
And all of that lovely warmth and admiration she’d basked in had come to a crashing halt when he’d seen her belly.
Of course she understood why. Totally got it.
But wouldn’t it be nice to be carefree and available to flirt with a man who’d found her attractive?
Suck it up, Rachel. This is the life you chose. Live it.
Rachel laughed at her lapse in common sense. “You so need to get over yourself, Rach.”
She put the finishing touches on the carousel, preparing it for the coming winter. An hour later, she tucked away her tools, along with her unreasonable attraction to the new man.
She drove into town and stopped at the used-clothing shop.
Her wardrobe was pretty slim pickings at the moment.
She found a glittery maternity top she could wear to work. If she took off the sequins and rearranged the beading, she could remake the top into her own style. Embroidery, sewing and knitting calmed her. That she could take a five-dollar top and make it personal filled her with pride.
At the market, she shopped for next week’s groceries. In the produce section, she found marked-down overripe bananas that would make an excellent bread.
She picked up fruits and vegetables on special and root vegetables in season.
A huge bag of lentils was on sale. Good source of protein. She bypassed the expensive sugary cereals and instant oatmeal to pick up a bag of rolled oats. By the time she finished, she had an economical, nourishing menu planned for the weekend and coming week for herself and her daughter.
Maybe I should get a small steak to share with Tori. Her mother was always on her case about eating meat for the baby, and Tori was a growing girl who needed protein.
She perused the packages, but the prices worried her. She picked up one minuscule steak, shuffling along the counter to see if there was a better deal, until she ran smack dab into a hard body.
She looked up.
Travis Read. Here. In the grocery store.
Good grief. Was her heart going to do somersaults every time she met him? Or bumped into him? Literally.
He grasped one of her upper arms to steady her, his big palm warm even through Davey’s thick old jacket.
“I’m sorry!” Her heart thumped at just the sight of him let alone the touch of those long fingers. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Rachel’s skin seemed to constrict until it was a size too small for her body.
“No problem,” he said. “No harm done.”
The thick honey of his deep voice flowed along her nerves. Her pulse skittered a foolish teenage girl’s dance in her mature woman’s body.
Travis had a great mouth, finely shaped with a firm outline. How would his lips feel on hers? Would his kiss be more refined than Davey’s had been? Her husband’s kisses had been long on enthusiasm and short on finesse. She had a feeling Travis loved on a whole different level.
Get a grip, Rach.
“You okay?” Travis asked. He glanced down.
Too late, she remembered she’d opened her jacket when she’d entered the store. Her shirt wasn’t maternity and didn’t fit properly. Only the top three buttons were done up, and the bottom of the shirt splayed over her big belly.
Her nicer maternity jeans were hung up at home, waiting for her to put them on for work.
The pants she had on now, a pair she’d bought secondhand, were already worn out from her first pregnancy. The belly panel was stretched to the max, showing white flecks where the elastic had broken.
Good grief.
The silence went on too long. “You made it to the Double U?”
“Yeah. Made it there just fine.”
A dark shadow painted his strong jawline. He smelled of citrus. His body generated heat.
She stepped away.
Come down to earth, she scolded herself.
She dropped the one barely there steak she’d picked up onto her discounted vegetables and lentils. His basket held seven steaks. Seven!
Her economic situation had never embarrassed her in the past. Frustrated her? Oh, yeah. But caused her shame? No. It had merely been a fact of her life. It disconcerted her now, though.
Neither of them had said anything for a while. Their silence fell into truly awkward, uncomfortable territory.
“Don’t forget to add some vegetables,” she blurted.
Cripes, small talk had never stressed her out before. She could usually talk the paint off a barn door, yet here she stood with her mouth gone as dry as a popcorn fart.
Travis sidled away from her, hefting the basket with a rueful kick up of one side of his mouth. “Yeah, guess I’ll grab a few potatoes.”
“And greens.” Brilliant conversation, Rach.
He grimaced. “Maybe.”
She managed a reasonable facsimile of a grin. “Which means you won’t.”
His sweet fraction of a shy smile made a brief appearance.
He doffed his hat and left. “See you ’round town, Rachel.”
She watched him stride away.
The phrase salt of the earth came to mind. Travis Read would fit in well in Rodeo, maybe better than she did. After all, she wasn’t much of a cowgirl. She didn’t ride horses, and she didn’t live on a ranch.
She loved Montana, though, and loved her town with all of her heart. Rachel adored its basic, varied, salt-of-the-earth residents. She was working her fingers to the bone on next summer’s fair to keep the town alive and make it prosperous again.
Tamping down her wayward daydreams, she paid for her purchases.
At home, she poured a glass of OJ, taking it and an oatmeal muffin outside to soak up the rays of what might be one of the last good days of autumn.
She sat on the porch step—porch being a generous term for the slice of tilting wood and two steps hammered together under the front door of her mom’s trailer.
Sunlight flooding the valley reflected off the tarnished white wood siding of the Victorian across the road.
Rachel sighed. She missed Abigail Montgomery, her elderly friend. Her death, days after Davey’s, had been devastating. Worst time of her life.
She’d lost too much six months ago. Thoughts of her big, irrepressible Davey... Whew! Those could still bring her to her knees.
She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked. She missed him every night.
She’d already cried a river for him, and for Abigail, but she had a life to live and children to raise. She needed her good spirits to help shoulder her burdens.
Veering away from her grief before it brought on tears, she concentrated on the Victorian.
Her every-second-of-the-day dream about owning that house perked her up, rerouting her thoughts away from devastating memories.
To everyone else in Rodeo, the aging home looked like a run-down romantic anomaly in the Western landscape, but to Rachel it was perfect.
But then, romantic notions and daydreams had always been her downfall, hadn’t they?
Davey had never known about this particular dream. She’d wanted to surprise him with a fait accompli. Look, honey, I bought us a house.
Any day now it would be hers. She hadn’t heard even a whisper about whether Abigail’s British relatives were going to put it up for sale, but why wouldn’t they?
It was useless to them.
She’d scrimped and saved until she had just shy of five thousand dollars in change and small bills hidden in her closet.
Dumb spot to keep her money, but she and Davey had had a joint bank account. Had he known about this money, he would have siphoned off every spare cent for his motorcycle passion...or for treating his friends to beer every Friday night...or for chewing through money like it was cereal.
Davey had had those great big hands that could love her with enthusiasm, but they were a pair of sieves where money was concerned.
She should roll the change and count the money soon and get it into the bank. Later. Right now she needed these moments of rest.
The pretty trills of a horned lark on Abigail’s land floated across to her on the late-October breeze.
No one else in town would want that house.
There was no way there would be a speck of competition. It needed work.
It would be hers. It could have been hers a lot sooner had she married someone more practical.
The heart has a mind of its own, Rach, and you just have to follow it.
I sure did, didn’t I?
Yes. She sure had, right back into the financial insecurity she’d grown up with.
She let out a sigh full of hot air and yearning.
The distant hum of an engine—a motorcycle—cut through her daydreaming. Her unreasonable heart lurched with thoughts of her late husband.
A big Harley shot down the old road toward her.
It wasn’t Davey, of course. Never again would her husband ride home with a shit-eating grin that would light up any cloudy day.
She scrubbed her hands over her arms and shivered despite the sunshine. Oh, Davey.
The bike came close, closer, and slowed down enough to initiate the turn into Abigail’s driveway. Who was it?
The noise disturbed the lark. Routed, he surged from his hiding spot, his distinctive yellow-and-black face catching the eye of a white cat crouching in the grasses along the side of the road. Ghost. Abigail’s cat shot out toward the songbird, right into the bike’s path. No!
Rachel stumbled to her feet. “Get back,” she yelled.
The biker swerved to avoid the cat, Ghost ran back into the tall grasses and the bike tipped over. The machine flew across the road, screeching and shooting sparks, leaving the rider bouncing and rolling along the shoulder in a plume of dust.
In the ensuing silence, dirt and stones fell on his still body.
Rachel froze. Unwelcome memories of that awful day and the police officer at her door surged through her. He’s gone, ma’am, in a head-on collision with a tree. I’m sorry.
Resurrected shock held her immobile.
The man lay unmoving.
Rachel stared. Please, not another death. Abigail. Davey. No.
A groan from across the small highway galvanized her.
Rachel ran over, the only sound her pounding pulse.
He still hadn’t moved. Oh, dear Lord, please don’t die.
Kneeling beside him, she checked his body for signs of injury. Hard to tell through the leather. She touched his shoulders, arms and legs, feeling for broken bones. Under layers of solid muscle everything seemed fine, but what about internal injuries? She didn’t know how to check. With a wail of frustration, she tore into herself for never having taken first-aid classes.
One arm moved, raising the visor of his helmet.
Her frantic glance took in his face. He was conscious. Deep-set blue eyes watched her steadily, silently.
He reached up to remove his helmet. She stopped him with a hand on his wrist, feeling a strong pulse, thank God. “Should you do that? Is your head injured?”
Her voice shook. So did her hands.
“I’m good.” He took off his helmet, and she gasped.
Travis?
Of all people—What—? How—?
“Are you okay?” Her voice emerged reed thin.
He didn’t respond, just stared into her eyes, then touched her bottom lip with a glove-clad finger.
“Only one,” he murmured.
Huh?
His eyes met hers again, mesmerizing. She could fall into that blue gaze for hours. The moment stretched out. A smile, sweet and broad, curved the corners of his mouth.
Oh my-y-y. What did Travis use for toothpaste? Moonbeams?
He sat up slowly, his body coming close enough for her to feel his heat even through his leathers. She sat back on her heels.
She should tell him to be careful, to check for injuries, but couldn’t find her voice.
His hand brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, the leather soft against her skin. Grasping the tips of his glove with his straight white teeth, he tugged it off, then did the same with the other. Still mesmerized, Rachel stared, swallowed and stared some more.
Again he reached for her hair and ran his fingers through it, massaging her scalp. Rachel almost purred like a cat.
“Soft,” he said. “Calf’s ear.” He wasn’t making sense, but Rachel was too captivated to question him while he touched her with such gentle grace. Her traitorous desire overrode her common sense.
She moaned low in her throat.
He moved his hand to the back of her neck, urging her close to his chest. As pliable as a rag doll, she allowed it. His lips touched hers with velvety moisture and a faint exhalation of coffee-scented breath.
She hadn’t touched a man since Davey. Davey. Her late husband. Her eager, playful lover.
Pull back, Rach. Don’t allow this. Davey is only six months gone. You should—
He deepened the kiss. Taking his time, he caressed her tongue with his. His skill. Oh, his earnest, deep skill. Yes, to his awesome finesse. She’d known it would be like this. Heavenly bliss.
Rapture. Joy.
Need simmered inside her. In the months since Davey’s death, what she had needed most was his touch, his soothing physical support, one last endless night of blazing lovemaking.
A woman should be allowed to say goodbye to her husband. Rachel’s anger wrestled with her guilt and desire.
Fireworks blazed. Buried dreams came to life. This man’s touch, his mouth, soothed away aching, aching grief.
Rachel sighed and lost herself in his kiss, exploring his mouth with her ardent tongue.
She’d never kissed, had never been kissed, so slowly and intently. Her mind went blank and her body limp.
Elizabeth announced her presence with a hard kick to Rachel’s belly.
She pulled back. “Ouch.” She’d been kneeling too long.
“Ouch?” Travis’s voice sounded lost in a sensual fog, echoing how she felt.
“The baby kicked me. I need to stand up.”
“Baby?” Coming out of his daze, his eyes widened.
Horror spread across his features. “Sorry! God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’ve had a shock,” she managed to bite out, while she really wanted to blurt, Don’t be sorry. I’ve never been kissed like that in my life. I needed it. After all of the turmoil, and the crazy worries about the future, I needed something for me. Purely, selfishly, for just me.
But that was a daydream that required a hasty burial. Just me was not possible these days.
She eased away from him and rubbed her belly to soothe Beth.
“Are you okay?” she asked, striving to pretend she hadn’t been rocked by a stranger’s kiss, that this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Yeah.” He nodded with a perplexed frown.
Did he understand any better than she what had just happened?
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“No ambulance. No hospital. I’m good.”
The cowboy she’d met a short while ago was gone, replaced by a motorcycle rider. “No head injury? You were out cold.”
“Naw. Not out cold, just winded.”
“But you didn’t move when I was checking you for injuries.”
“No, I didn’t.” His jaw hardened, so briefly she barely caught it. She didn’t have a clue what was going on.
He stood and winced. “This head’s pretty hard. I’ve survived worse. Gonna be bruised tomorrow, though.”
Rachel struggled to get to her feet. Travis rushed to help her. “You shouldn’t be kneeling in your condition.”
In her condition. For a brief moment, she hadn’t been a pregnant woman, but a desirable one. He’d looked past her circumstances to her.
She stared at him. “Are you serious, Travis? I thought you were unconscious. I needed to check you. You could have been badly hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern,” he said, his hands strong beneath her elbows, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. “I’ll be stiff the next few days, but that’s all.” He made sure she was steady on her feet, took her hands in his and squeezed before he released her, his rough calluses a jolting return to reality.
She needed reality, needed to get her head back onto her shoulders. So, he hadn’t been knocked out, but maybe he’d been in shock. How else to account for that kiss? He hadn’t known he was kissing her. Maybe he’d thought she was an old girlfriend. Or a current one? After all, she was nothing to him.
His leather jacket had a tear along one arm. Travis could have been killed.
On a dime, those awful memories raced through her again. Davey, Davey, Davey.
Her blood arced and swooped through her arteries. Her pulse skittered worse than on a caffeine high. “You sure you don’t have internal injuries?”
“No injuries. Everything feels fine. Good thing I slowed down to take the turn.”
Rachel reached down to swipe dirt and gravel from her knees. A fine tremor ran through her. Anger overtook the fright he’d given her.
She couldn’t fend off images, thousands of Davey carefree and laughing, and that one horrifying imaginary picture of him broken by the side of the road thanks to his damned obsession with motorcycles. Because of them, he was gone for good, and her children were fatherless. What was it with men and their stupid, dangerous toys? Unfair, Rachel. A motorcycle is just a tool. Davey’s reckless speed had been the real problem.
Common sense held no sway, only anger. “Maybe you should stop riding motorcycles. They’re dangerous.”
At her sharp tone, he shot her a hard look. “Not if you know what you’re doing. Was that your cat that ran out in front of me?”
“No, it was Abigail’s.”
“Who’s Abigail?”
Rachel pointed to the aging Victorian. “That was her house.”
“Right,” he said. “I thought the owner died months ago. Who owns the cat now?”
“Ghost turned feral after her death.” Rachel drew a breath to steady her quavering voice. This man’s decisions were no concern of hers. Who was she to judge what he did with his life? She modulated her tone. “She won’t come near anyone. I’m worried about her.”
“She’s gonna get herself killed.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He strode to his bike and lifted it onto its tires, the machine as light as a bicycle in his capable hands. He was strong, but then again, she already knew that.
Where Davey had been tall and lean, Travis was maybe five-eleven and heavily muscled.
He turned the bike toward the house.
Those memories of Davey still haunting her, she couldn’t help but ask again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
His soft smile eased her anger, a bit. “Yeah, I’m good. Honest. How about you? You good?”
“I’m fine.”
He touched a couple of fingers to his forehead in a casual salute—no wedding band, not that she was looking—and then limped up the driveway toward the Victorian.
“Wait!”
He turned back.
“Why were you riding a bike? Where’s your truck?”
“Left it in the garage for a checkup. It’s been running rough, and I want it ready for winter.”
“Where’s your horse and trailer?”
“Udall’s letting me leave them on his ranch till I’m set up here.”
Here? At Abigail’s?
“Why are you going to Abigail’s house? Won’t you be bunking in the worker’s quarters on the Double U?”
“Nope. I’ll be living here.” He parked his bike at the side of the driveway. She followed him.
Living here. In Abigail’s house, which she hadn’t even heard had been rented. Travis would be living across the road from her, where she would have to see him every day and remind herself that no amount of makeup or dresses could change what she was...an ungainly woman who was a month and a half away from giving birth. No amount of dolling up would make her as attractive to him as he was to her.
But he’d kissed her.
He’d been stunned, dazed, that was all. She would probably never know who he’d really been kissing while he’d put his lips to hers so sweetly.
“No one told me the house had been rented.”
“Rented? No, ma’am. I bought the place.” He mounted the stairs to the veranda.
Bought—? Her house had been sold? When had it been listed, and why hadn’t she heard about it? This was a small town. Everybody’s business was an open book, for God’s sake, and not one person had thought to tell her the house she craved had been sold?
What do you expect, Rach? You kept that dream close to your chest, didn’t you?
True, she had. She hadn’t wanted people, not even Davey, to think poor Rachel McGuire was crazy enough to believe she could actually find a way to buy a house.
Maybe she hadn’t heard him properly.
She chased after him, stood at the bottom of the stairs and stared up at him.
“You’re joking, right?”
He frowned down at her from the top of the steps. “Why would I joke?”
“You’re not supposed to be living here. No one’s supposed to buy this house.” She sounded like a lunatic. She didn’t care.
Her house, the only thing she wanted more in life than her children’s health and happiness, had been sold.
The air became thin.
She panted. Stars danced in front of her eyes. Her vision narrowed. A moment later, she found herself sitting on the bottom step with a hand on her back urging her head between her knees. Hard to do with a nearly full-grown baby in the way. The cowboy squatted in front of her and chafed the backs of her hands.
“Are you all right?”
She straightened, still struggling for air, but not so dizzy.
“Are you hungry or something? You fainted. Good thing I caught you.”
She’d fainted and he’d caught her? The man moved fast.
“Wait a minute. Back up.”
When Travis started to pull away from her, she grasped his hands, craving his solid comfort as her daydreams slid into nightmare. He squatted on his haunches and watched her with a steady regard.
“I didn’t mean get away from me,” she said. “I meant, back up in the conversation. Please tell me I misunderstood. You did not buy this house.”
“I bought the house.”
“No.” It came out a croak, with tears clogging her throat. This house was supposed to be hers.
He watched her with pity. Great.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was Cindy Hardy’s daughter and a widowed, single mother with a bun in her oversize oven and a three-year-old daughter with no father, and that they lived in Cindy’s tin can, but now she had also lost the chance to own the only house in the county she could have ever hoped to afford...and the only one she’d ever dreamed of owning.
Sure, her itty-bitty down payment would buy a small trailer, but after the childhood she’d had, the thought made her sick. She wanted more for her children. She wanted a real home.
The man who had bought her house watched her as if he was afraid she would faint again.
A terrible rage arose in her.
She didn’t want pity. She wanted a knock-down, drag-out fight, to pound something hard and not stop for a good month.
Bursting with the unfairness, she pushed against the cowboy squatting in front of her. Travis fell onto his butt in the dirt.
“Hey!”
Rachel had never touched another person with violence in her life.
She stood. Her belly might make a swift exit impossible, but she couldn’t stay here.
He jumped to his feet and grasped her upper arms to stop her. “Why’d you do that? I’ve done nothing to you.”
She kept her mouth shut because, if she didn’t, she would start to scream and never stop.
His big hands still gripped her arms. She hated him. She didn’t want him to stop touching her.
She put her hands against his chest to push him away, but her outrage deflated. If she could fall into the earth and disappear, she would. He was right. He had done nothing to her. Life had. As hard as she fought, she couldn’t get ahead.
Stuff happened.
She was tired of stuff happening.
She would just have to work harder. And harder. And harder. God, she was tired.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her palms soothed by the solid beat of his heart beneath his worn denim shirt.
Despite his confusion, despite how she had just treated him, he watched her with concern. Travis was kind and good, and she was behaving like a child.
“I truly am sorry.”
“It’s okay. I can see you’re upset.”
She started down the driveway to go home, or what passed for a home.
“You’re shaky,” he called. “You need some help getting across the road?”
Cripes. The day had started so well. For a short while, he’d found her super-duper attractive. Now, he was treating her like an invalid.
“I can manage by myself,” she answered with a touch of irritation.
She managed to make it inside the front door before the first tears fell.
After five minutes of the worst pity party she’d thrown for herself since Davey’s death, she rinsed her face and called her friend Nadine.
Rachel brought her up to speed on everything that had just happened.
“I’m angry, Nadine. Mad to the soles of my shoes. Life has to start turning around for me sometime soon.”
Nadine said, “I hear you, sweetie. You’ve had a rough go of it. How can I help?”
Nadine wrote for the local newspaper. She was handy with research and a computer.
A need for...something...burned inside Rachel. Vengeance, maybe? Or perhaps just to learn that Travis was not the perfect man he appeared to be? That he was flawed and unworthy of her attraction? That he didn’t deserve her house? It would be so much easier to think of him as her enemy if she didn’t like him so much.
“Find out about him,” she ordered Nadine. “You’re a great reporter. You do research for your articles. Find out who Travis Read really is and then let me know.”
“Will do, honey. I’ll get back to you soon.”
Rachel wished Tori were home right now. She would give her daughter the biggest hug, but every Friday morning, Cindy and Tori had a standing date for a few hours of shopping and then lunch at the mall.
Cindy worked at the hair salon in town and had disposable income. Cindy cared more for clothes and perfect nails than she did about improving her living situation.
Every week, she gave Tori the treats that Rachel could not afford and, every week, Rachel rose above her own regret and envy to be happy for Tori.
The new mall out on the highway twenty miles away was a monstrosity into which Rachel refused to set one foot. She liked the shops on Main Street, thank you very much.
Her mom loved the mall, but then, she had no sense of loyalty to her town at all.
Rachel missed Victoria. They’d only been gone a few hours, but Rachel needed her daughter something fierce.
Tori was goodness and light and the antidote to every disappointment life had visited upon Rachel.
She took her straw cowboy hat from the hook beside the door. She’d embroidered the bitterroot flowers on the band herself, as well as the ones on the secondhand shirt she wore. She set it on her head defiantly, then sat on the porch step to wait for her daughter to come home. She shouldn’t be wearing straw at this time of year, at the end of October for Pete’s sake, but Davey had given it to her after their first date. ’Nuff said.
Chapter Three (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
What the hell had that kiss been about? Travis took himself to task about as hard as he ever had in his life.
What had he been thinking? He knew only that Rachel had run across the road and had touched him with hands more caring than any he’d ever known. Her concern for him, a man about whom no one cared or gave a second thought, was a powerful attraction.
Women usually wanted stuff from him, as opposed to worrying about him.
After a childhood as bereft of affection as a snowball in hell, tenderness took him by surprise.
He’d been winded and shocked at losing control of his bike, flat on his back cursing himself for a fool, and then there she was like an angel, leaning over him with thoughtful concern and fear for his well-being.
His parents hadn’t cared. His sister would have, but he’d spent too many years taking care of her and their pattern was set in stone. He was the caretaker, not she.
Travis watched the woman waddle back to the sad-looking trailer across the road, stubborn defiance stiffening her spine.
She asked for nothing and offered so much. Too much.
Have a care, Travis. You don’t even know the woman and already you’re kissing her?
He’d never done anything like it in his life. He’d had plenty of one-night stands, but not with women with pregnant bellies and a whole barn load of responsibility.
Lying in the road with his protective shields down, this morning’s attraction had flared.
Her hair turned out to be every bit as soft as a calf’s ear. And she’d tasted as sweet as he’d imagined.
But what good was attraction when he could do nothing with it? She was pregnant. He had a glut of duties to fill in the coming months. He didn’t need more.
He had his own life to live.
Case closed, Travis. End of story, got it?
He needed to back away from Rachel and stay away.
He unhooked his saddlebags from his bike and carried them into his house. His house.
Travis Read. Homeowner. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Home. Lord, how did a man learn how to make a home when he’d never known a single good one in his whole life?
The challenge scared the hell out of him.
The empty rooms waited like hungry sponges to soak up the noise and chaos Jason and Colt would surely create.
Was he doing the right thing in uprooting them and bringing them here? He had only his gut to rely on, and it was shouting a resounding yes.
In the old-fashioned kitchen, he unpacked his groceries and put them into the ancient fridge.
Upstairs, he chose the largest bedroom for himself and the new king-size bed he’d ordered. He’d slept in bunkhouses all his adult life. Now he owned a bed.
Soon it would be Samantha’s, and he’d be back in another bunkhouse somewhere.
His bags hit the floor with a solid clunk.
Walking back downstairs, he stared around. By the time Sammy and her boys arrived, he needed to turn this house into a home.
He had plenty of work ahead of him, in cleaning up the place and renovating. Floors needed sanding and walls painting.
He had no template to guide him. He would start with whatever needed fixing and then take inspiration from the many ranch wives who’d made homes and fed him and his fellow cowboys on too many ranches to count.
There was nothing inside him to draw on.
He had plenty of longing, but zero know-how.
Moving on was all he knew, and bunking with a dozen other men was his way of life.
Travis Read. Homeowner. A home meant obligation and duty, a millstone around a man’s neck...and he was damned tired of those.
* * *
RACHEL SAT ON the porch and watched her mother pull into the driveway and park her decked-out pickup truck beside Rachel’s old junker.
Cindy Hardy had no understanding of the notion less is more.
She had bought every chrome feature the local dealership could get its hands on.
Thank God Rachel had been able to talk her out of a lift kit.
Cindy mistakenly assumed that men drooled over her, when all they really wanted was her truck.
Too many of the men in town had known Cindy, as in known known, to want to have anything to do with her romantically.
To the people of Rodeo, Montana, Cindy had always been and would always be the girl from the trailer park—even if there was no park, only a trailer.
The second Cindy got Tori unbuckled, Rachel’s daughter jumped out of the truck, came running toward her mom and threw herself into her arms, squealing, “Mommy, Mommy.”
Rachel broke into a huge smile and hugged her little three-year-old bundle of joy. Cindy unloaded the bags. Rachel oohed and aahed over her daughter’s new purchases. Cindy had bought her a lot of fun stuff. Thank goodness it wasn’t all toys, but also new clothes. Another week of Cindy’s wages down the tubes.
Rachel should tell her to stop, but without Cindy buying Tori’s clothes, the child would have little to wear. Besides, how could she tell Tori’s only grandmother to stop spoiling her?
Nope. She didn’t have it in her heart to ruin Cindy’s fun, even if Cindy never had understood that it would have been better to have saved at least some of her money to improve her life’s situation than to wait for some man to come along and save her.
Rachel would never, not in a million years, depend on a man again where her finances were concerned. She planned to scrimp and save and work until her knuckles hurt, and then get her children into a stable, secure home life.
Tori chattered away, reminding her of what was at stake.
Davey’s parents had both died when he was in high school. Ironic that it had been a car crash.
Cindy was Tori’s only other relative apart from Rachel.
Maybe one day a week of being spoiled wasn’t so bad.
A sound from the road caught their attention. A truck turned into Abigail’s—correction, Travis’s—driveway.
Rachel brushed her fingers through Tori’s soft blond curls. Mother Nature had fashioned her daughter’s hair out of strands of pure sunlight.
She and Tori watched the activity across the road, Rodeo’s version of reality TV.
“That’s a big chruck, Mommy.”
“Truck,” Rachel corrected automatically. “It sure is, Tori-ori-o.”
With a pang of deep-seated regret, Rachel thought, My house belongs to someone else now.
“What’s going on over there?” Cindy asked.
Cindy Hardy wore full makeup, and styled and sprayed hair. She’d tucked a sparkly, faux-Western shirt into her favorite jeans, which in turn were tucked into polished gray snakeskin cowboy boots, boots that had never seen the inside of a barn. A big rodeo belt buckle, a gift from a former lover, accentuated a still-trim waist.
Rachel suspected the guy had probably had a bunch of buckles made up expressly to give to women like Cindy. No rodeo rider worth his salt would give his own buckle away.
“It sold, but we didn’t hear about it,” Rachel said, not bothering to update her mother on details. The thought of introducing her to Travis made Rachel antsy in a way she didn’t want to look at too closely.
Cindy was still young and attractive, even if her style wasn’t something that appealed to Rachel.
Two men got out of the truck. “Wonder if the new owner will paint,” Rachel murmured. “It needs to be freshened up.”
Cindy’s husky laugh mocked her. “It needs a heck of a lot more than a coat of paint.”
Resentment shot through Rachel. “I would have been happy to have done the work to fix it up.” A fixer-upper was the only kind of house she could ever hope to buy.
A commotion across the road snagged her attention, as the two burly men opened the rear doors of the truck.
Travis didn’t own much. The truck was less than half full. The men unloaded a large dresser and carried it into the house.
Tori marched her fingers up Rachel’s leg, singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
Rachel glanced down at her three-year-old daughter, gazing into eyes so blue they rivaled the cloudless sky, into Davey’s eyes, the first thing that had attracted Rachel to him. His brilliant, laughter-filled eyes.
She was struggling to replace his laughter in their lives.
The pair of movers came back for a big leather sofa. “Too masculine. That house needs comfortable, cozy sofas and armchairs. Shabby chic. Chintz.”
“Chins,” Tori whispered.
The furniture looked brand-new.
Travis came outside, all traces of leather gone. The cowboy she’d met this morning stood on the front porch.
He leaned against a veranda post, a rugged movie star in worn jeans, a snug white T-shirt, denim jacket, well-used cowboy boots and a black Stetson.
He should have looked out of place on Abigail’s old-fashioned veranda. He didn’t. He looked...perfect.
Cindy whistled. “Good-looking man. He bought that house? Wow. Who is he?”
Rachel didn’t fill her in. She had never, not once in her life, competed with her mom where men were concerned, but she felt a rivalry now with a raging fire.
“What does he need a whole house for?”
Good question. “I don’t know, Cindy.”
Rachel had had time to cool down. Contrary to what she’d thought earlier, Travis was not her enemy. He was only a man who’d somehow managed to do better in life than she had.
His glance swept the countryside, Cindy’s house, Rachel and Tori...and Cindy.
What good looks Rachel lacked, Cindy had in spades. Tori had inherited her blond curls from her grandmother, along with her charming dimples. Somehow those had bypassed Rachel.
All Rachel had were strong features and freckles, courtesy of a father she’d never met.
“I’m going over to meet him.” Cindy squeezed past Rachel and Victoria and stepped down from the porch.
“No!” Rachel didn’t want her mother embarrassing her. “Mom, please. Don’t—”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t flirt with him like you do with every man you meet.”
Cindy wouldn’t just be welcoming Travis to the neighborhood. She would ramp it up to see what she could get out of the man.
“He’s the best-looking man we’ve had around here in ages. If you think I’m going to pass him up, you’re nuts.” Cindy rubbed her hands on her thighs, the gesture telling. “I’m still young. I can flirt with any man I want. It’s none of your business.”
Cindy was pretty enough to turn any man’s head, but she’d been plagued with a neediness that routinely drove her into the arms of the wrong kind of man.
Relentless, she was forever on the lookout for her next conquest.
Her sights had just zeroed in on the one across the way.
“Please, Cindy, no. You want to get your hooks into him.” Rachel knew Cindy’s needs inside and out. The vulnerability in the depths of her eyes was exactly the thing that had gotten her into trouble when she was only fifteen, hitching her pony to a good-looking drifter’s wagon and then getting pregnant. Whoever the guy was, he’d been long gone by the time Rachel had been born.
Rachel was twenty-eight and her mother only forty-three. Rachel guessed Travis to be in his mid-to late thirties. Cindy could conceivably flirt with him, but what a load of trouble it could bring.
“Mom, he’s not a drifter. He’s our new neighbor. He bought the house, for Pete’s sake.”
“So?”
“So...” Rachel said with forced patience. “This could go wrong in so many ways.”
“Everything will be fine. I’m only going over to talk to him.” In Cindy’s voice, Rachel heard the hints of desperation that had been growing stronger since Cindy had turned forty.
“And when the relationship goes sour, as it always does?” Rachel’s displeasure bubbled over. She’d seen this movie too many times and hated the ending. “How good a neighbor will he be then? How good will you be?”
Cindy shrugged. “Maybe this time it will work out.” She started to mosey down the driveway, but turned back. “You could always move into a place of your own, and then you wouldn’t have to watch me talk to men.” She walked across the road.
Mom was right. This was her mother’s home, not hers. Cindy could flirt with whomever she wanted. “Come on, sugar pie, let’s go inside,” Rachel said, urging Tori ahead of her, unwilling to witness Cindy’s performance.
Inside the house, she strode to the kitchen and settled Tori into a chair.
In the bedroom, Rachel chose one of her few maternity shirts and put it on with her good maternity jeans.
She returned to the kitchen where she put the finishing touches to the dinner she’d made to take to work with her, every action staccato and peevish.
She had no claim on the new stranger. Cindy could do whatever she wanted with him.
She packed a quinoa salad and a pint of milk, dropping them into her bag too hard.
Forcing herself to calm down, she took Tori’s tiny face between her hands. Rachel kissed her forehead and her nose. “I love you, sweetie. Come sit on the porch and wave goodbye.”
She picked up her purse from the hall table and left the trailer, making sure Cindy was on her way back before heading to her car.
Tori retrieved her favorite stuffed animal, a furry gray platypus. Rachel shook off dirt before she let her daughter hug it to her chest. “Stay on the porch till the car is gone, okay?”
She approached Cindy who’d moseyed back across the highway with her ultra-sexy, phony walk that Rachel disliked.
Wary of her mom’s Cheshire cat grin, she asked, “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a date,” Cindy said with a whole boatload of smugness.
Disappointment thrummed through Rachel. So that’s the kind of man Travis was, a guy who kissed strangers, but liked flashy women like Cindy. Was the man a player? Had she pegged him all wrong? “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight? But I’m working. You’re taking care of Tori.”
“I know. I’ll ask Laurie to babysit for a few hours.” Cindy went to the porch and bent to talk to Tori. “You don’t mind, do you, honey? Laurie is fun.”
“She colors with me.” Tori smiled with Cindy’s dimples.
“But I can’t afford to pay her,” Rachel objected, knowing Cindy wouldn’t offer to pick up the tab.
“Sure you can. You make good tips at the bar.”
“But—” What could she say? I need money to move out, to get away from you? She couldn’t bear to sound so cold and ungrateful, especially not when Cindy had been kind enough to take her in. Rachel should have never moved back into the trailer with Cindy and her resentment, but what else could she have done? Davey had left her with nothing but broken promises and hot air.
Rachel gave in to the inevitable. “Okay. I’ll be home after one.”
Before leaving, Rachel kissed Tori again because, while Davey hadn’t been able to keep a buck in his pocket, he had made her laugh a lot and had given her the most precious of gifts, two children.
Just as Rachel opened her car door, Tori called, “See you later, aggilator.”
Ah, Victoria, my sweet divine daughter, you raise my spirits as much as your father used to.
Rachel blew her an air kiss. “Alligator, Tori-ori-ori-o. In a while, crocodile,” she sang and got into her old car and drove away laughing, but not before catching her new neighbor watching her with a strange expression on his face.
Travis Read, who are you? The man who loved his carousel ride this morning, or the kind who is attracted to a flashy, shallow flirt like my mother?
* * *
A HEADACHE POUNDED behind Rachel’s left eye. The tray full of beers she carried dragged down her arms. Was the music louder than usual tonight?
Honey’s Place was the only bar in Rodeo. True, there was the diner, but her friend Vy ran an alcohol-free eatery, and most people wanted beer with their fries on a Friday night.
A lot of these people were cowboys who worked the ranches in the area. They came in at the end of the week for liquor, great burgers and fun music.
Despite her aching legs and feet, Rachel hustled. She needed her tips, needed to come up with an alternative plan now that Abigail’s house had been sold.
If she felt a tad desperate, well...she was.
A table called for a round of beers. Rachel headed to the bar to fill the order.
“How’re you doing?” Rushed but efficient, Honey Armstrong filled orders as quickly as her servers brought them to the bar. Her mane of long, blond curls wild tonight, she peered at Rachel critically. “You look tired.”
Fearful of giving Honey a reason to send her home early, Rachel put on her game face.
“I’m good.”
“Rach, don’t try to fool me. You know you can’t.”
“I’ll take a dinner break soon,” Rachel promised.
Honey pointed a finger at her. “You’d better. You look worn out.”
It was Friday night, the bar was packed and Rachel needed to hustle. She would take care of her aching body tomorrow morning.
Off-duty, Sheriff Cole Payette, sidled up to the bar and sat on the only empty stool. His spot. No matter how busy Honey’s got, the locals left it empty for him. Friday and Saturday nights often found him sitting there for hours, nursing a beer.
Rachel liked him.
As it turned out, Rachel didn’t get that break she’d promised Honey she would take. Her energy flagged, but customers continued to pour in.
With every step, her feet screamed for attention.
Too bad. As long as there were customers, she would continue to work and bring in tips.
She set a heavy tray of mugs of beer onto the table next to the front door and handed them around. She was just making change when she felt a draft. New arrivals. Good. More tips.
She glanced up...and froze. Cindy walked in with Travis, the man freshly shaved and movie-star handsome, the tips of his hair still damp from a shower, she guessed.
Why couldn’t Cindy have taken him to the diner for dinner? Why come here? But Rachel knew. Her mom was showing off that she was with the handsome new cowboy in town, and Honey’s would be a lot more crowded than the diner. Cindy liked an audience.
She wore even more spangles tonight and had put on her sparkly eye shadow.
When he saw Rachel, Travis raised one eyebrow as if to ask, “You work here?”
Rachel suppressed the part of herself that found him attractive.
Fantasizing about a handsome stranger when she looked like a beer barrel on legs was just the type of daydreaming she had to quit.
Anyhow, Cindy must be his type. He’d asked her out on a date pretty darn quickly, hadn’t he? Which meant he wasn’t Rachel’s type. And why was she having those kinds of unlikely thoughts, anyway? He was dating Cindy, and he had bought Rachel’s house. Cindy was welcome to him.
Rachel’s dating days were long over.
Then why, in the middle of a crowded bar surrounded by people she’d grown up with and loved, did Rachel feel so lonely? So in need of someone to talk to? Of someone who would listen? Or who would just hold her hand so she didn’t feel desperately alone?
Travis and Cindy sat at one of her tables, and Rachel left them with menus while she finished delivering drinks to another couple of tables.
When she returned, she pointed to the hooks lining the walls on either side of the door. “You can hang your hat there.”
Travis raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t notice them. No one will take it?”
Rachel’s grin might have been tired, but she dredged up a ghost of this morning’s sass. He needed to understand what kind of town he’d moved to.
“Not in this town. A man’s hat is sacred around these parts. All the establishments in town have their cowboy hat hooks.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“What can I get for you two?”
“A gin and tonic and a bacon burger with fries,” Cindy said.
“I’ll take a Corona,” Travis said, “with an order of the hottest wings you got, a bacon double cheeseburger and a side of onion rings. You have coleslaw?”
Rachel nodded.
“Creamy?”
“Sharp vinaigrette.”
“The way I like it. I’ll take a side of that, too.”
The way she liked it, too. “I’ll make sure it’s slurpy.” She smiled.
Travis’s returning smile might have been small, but moonbeams dazzled.
Get your head out of the clouds, Rachel.
Cindy sniffed.
After Rachel picked up the menus and walked away, she heard Travis say, “She looks tired. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”
So are you, Mom. Tough as nails. She bit down on that thought. It was uncharitable. Mom had a right to her fun, but Rachel was filled with jealousy, a mean-spirited emotion unworthy of her, but undeniable. She wouldn’t mind sitting down for a carefree evening in a bar for drinks and a burger with a handsome man.
Hey, you chose your life. You need to live it without regrets.
A good philosophy, just hard to hold on to when she was dog-tired.
Chapter Four (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
Travis delivered his hat to the row of hooks on the wall at the front of Honey’s Place.
Cowboy hat after cowboy hat graced the wall, most in muted blacks and tans, but a couple in white. Seemed to be the only kind of hat here.
He glanced around at the Western decor with its twin themes of old and new. Big old wagon wheels lined the walls along with huge modern landscapes of local scenery, not overly sentimental stuff, but rugged and true to nature. Local artist, maybe?
Hundreds of white fairy lights illuminated the rafters.
The people were loud, but Travis heard not one discordant note, just a lot of folks having a good time. The huge space rang with laughter. Denim and Western shirts abounded, along with plenty of silver jewelry on the women. He didn’t doubt a good portion of the hats on the wall belonged to those same women.
My kind of town.
A country and western band belted out hits from a small stage at the back end of the long room. He tapped his fingers on his thighs.
He returned to the small table Cindy had chosen, a table that fit only two, snugly. She’d said they were meeting up with a bunch of her friends.
“So where are the friends we’re supposed to meet?” Travis asked. He had to make sure she got his message loud and clear. This wasn’t a date.
He wasn’t looking for romance. Besides, she wasn’t his kind of woman at all.
“They’ll be along soon,” she said, her gaze darting about the bar and her knee doing a quick jig. “Do you dance?”
Before he could respond, she was hauling him out of his seat and to the dance floor where they joined a crowd of line dancers moving to a Brooks and Dunn cover.
Just as the second song started, he spotted Rachel carrying a tray of food and drinks to their table. He dragged Cindy off the dance floor. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
When Rachel put the tray down, it wobbled. He ran to grab it.
“I’m okay,” she said, but his beer tipped over the edge and landed on the floor. The bottle shattered, sending suds all over his boots.
Rachel gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll clean it up.” She rushed away.
He still held the tray with the food. He spread the plates and Cindy’s drink on their table, and left the empty tray on the bar.
“Rachel’s always been clumsy.” Cindy looked unhappy. Thunderclouds formed on what had been a clear evening. Travis didn’t know what went on between these two women. The last place he needed to be was stuck in the middle.
“The tray was heavy. No problem. A little beer never hurt a pair of boots.” He waggled his eyebrows comically to ease Cindy’s pique. “These’ve survived a hell of a lot worse.”
Cindy seemed to relax.
Rachel returned with a broom and mop, her stomach leading the way. “I’ll get you another beer, but I need to clean this up before someone slips and falls.”
“You go get the beer. I’ll do this.” He tried to take the broom away from her, but she held on.
“Nope.” Rachel shot him a look of grim determination. “It’s my job.”
“I don’t mind. I can do it.”
“No.” The woman had a strong grip, and even stronger willpower.
Travis let go, and she swept up the glass.
“You look pale. You okay?”
Her back stiffened as though maybe he’d offended her. Note to self. Don’t show this woman pity.
“I’m peachy,” she said, struggling to smile, but tense lines bracketed her mouth.
The sexy good humor he’d found so attractive this morning had crawled home to bed early, leaving behind an exhausted shell.
Someone called from another table. “Rachel, we need another round here.”
“Be right there, Lester.” She rushed to the bar and placed their order, returned with Travis’s beer, then disappeared into the back. A minute later, she returned with a freshly rinsed mop and finished cleaning up. Then she hurried to the bar and picked up a full tray of drinks.
Head spinning from the whirlwind, Travis asked, “You worry about her at all?”
Cindy sighed. “Yeah, I do, but she chose to marry a lazy loser. Whatever trouble she’s in, she brought on herself.” She pointed a French fry at him. “Before you start thinking I’m heartless, I took her back in after her husband died.”
“Shame he died. Man, that’s tough.” He couldn’t imagine how hard it would have been for his sister if her husband had died before Colt was born.
Cindy nodded. “I babysit her daughter when she’s working.”
“Except for tonight.”
“I needed a night out.” He’d put her on the defensive.
Careful to keep censure out of his voice, he asked quietly, “There are no friends coming, are there?” She’d assured him she was meeting people, and he was welcome to join them. The woman had misrepresented the evening.
“No.” She smiled with the barest hint of hope in her eyes. “Being out with me isn’t so bad, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.” Which was mainly true. Cindy had a lot of perky energy. “I gotta be honest, Cindy. I’m not looking for romance. I just need to get settled in. This isn’t an official date.” He softened it with a smile. “It’s good to be out on a Friday night with a pretty woman, though.”
Mollified, she sipped her drink.
Just after he’d taken a bite of an excellent charred bacon double cheeseburger, a hand settled onto his shoulder. It belonged to Artie Hanson from the auto shop.
“Brought the keys to your truck.” He dropped them onto the table in front of Travis’s plate, axle grease ground into every crack and wrinkle of his clean hands. “It’s sitting in front of the shop.”
Travis had phoned Artie to make sure the mechanic could finish the work by tonight so he’d be spared the ride home with Cindy. He liked to be independent.
Travis swallowed. “That’s great, man. Thanks.” He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Artie waved it away. “Boss lets me off duty on Friday nights.” The man laughed. An inside joke. He owned the shop. He could set his own hours. “You going to be in town on the weekend? Stop in and settle the bill then. Or on Monday.”
Artie clapped his back and walked away.
“Is he always so trusting?”
“Most people in this town are.” Cindy’s tone was only half admiring. The other half sounded resentful to Travis’s ear, but he wasn’t about to ask why.
While he ate, his gaze roamed the bar. He stopped when he realized he was keeping an eye on Rachel.
She’s no concern of yours.
It seemed that the habit of caring for others, after years of taking care of Samantha, was ground into him. Quit it.
He’d finished his burger, wings and onion rings, all while Rachel’s steps slowed and her face grew paler.
Not your business, man. Let it go.
He couldn’t. He fought the urge to help. It didn’t matter. Guess he’d spent too many years taking care of his younger sister to see a woman go so far into a bad case of hurt without helping her. He had to do something.
He excused himself and walked to the bar where he squeezed in between two old guys drinking whiskey. Behind the bar, a beauty hustled to fill drink orders. This town sure had a lot of pretty women. A mass of curly blond hair flowed down the bartender’s back to her waist.
“Hey, you’re Travis, aren’t you?” she asked. Laughter lurked in her china-doll blue eyes. At his surprised look, she answered his unspoken question. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows your name by now. I’m Honey, by the way.”
Ah. The owner.
Friendly smile as well as pretty. Nice. He handed her a twenty. “Can I order a burger or something for Rachel? She needs a break.”
Honey’s gaze sought out Rachel. Her lips compressed.
“She still hasn’t stopped? Honestly, that girl. Talk about being stubborn.” Honey removed a towel from her shoulder and tossed it onto the bar. “I told her to take a break well over an hour ago. If she’s not careful, she’ll hurt my future godchild.”
While Travis went back to the table, she slipped from behind the bar into the back hallway.
“Honey’s gone to get Rachel some food,” he told Cindy. He figured he should explain why he’d left.
Cindy cocked her head to one side. “You’re a nice man, aren’t you? That was a real kind thing to do.”
Since he’d told her it was good to be out with a pretty woman, Cindy’s mood had mellowed some. The second gin and tonic helped, too.
A guy got up from the bar and walked behind to pull mugs of draft and fill orders while Honey was gone.
“Who’s that customer who’s serving drinks now?” he asked Cindy.
She checked out the bar. “Cole Payette. He likes to help Honey sometimes.”
“I hope I didn’t get Rachel into trouble with her boss.” He finished his beer.
“Honey’s her friend,” Cindy said. “She won’t fire Rachel.”
A few minutes later, Honey returned to the big room with an order of chicken fingers and fries and handed them to Rachel. She pointed to Travis, probably telling Rachel who’d paid for them.
Rachel shot him a look full of brimstone. Oh, shit. Clasping her hands behind her back, she refused to take the plate from Honey. The gesture made her stomach stick out a mile.
She stormed over to their table. “I don’t know why you think you can tell me when I should be eating. I can figure out my own breaks.”
“Sorry, I—”
“Of all the paternalistic, presumptuous things to do. I don’t need your charity. Go buy dinner for someone else.”
He shot his hands in front of himself, palms out. “I didn’t mean to offend,” he said. “You’re looking more exhausted with every step. Considering how early it was when I saw you at the carousel this morning, you’ve put in a long day already and this bar doesn’t close for another few hours.”
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Mary Sullivan
TEMPTED BY A FAMILY…Travis Read never wanted to settle down anywhere—with anyone. He’s in Rodeo, Montana, just long enough to fix up a house for his sister and he’ll be on his way. Then he meets Rachel McGuire. Beautiful and kind—and with magnetic whiskey-colored eyes—Rachel is everything that Travis could want. Except that Rachel is also very, very pregnant.A struggling widowed mom, Rachel wants to give her family the stability she’s never had. Travis dashed those hopes by buying her dream house. Okay, she can start over. But she wasn’t counting on such a fierce attraction between them. And this cowboy was never meant to settle down…
TEMPTED BY A FAMILY…
Travis Read never wanted to settle down anywhere—with anyone. He’s in Rodeo, Montana, just long enough to fix up a house for his sister and he’ll be on his way. Then he meets Rachel McGuire. Beautiful and kind—and with magnetic whiskey-colored eyes—Rachel is everything that Travis could want. Except that Rachel is also very, very pregnant.
A struggling widowed mom, Rachel wants to give her family the stability she’s never had. Travis dashed those hopes by buying her dream house. Okay, she can start over. But she wasn’t counting on such a fierce attraction between them. And this cowboy was never meant to settle down…
“You can let go of me now…”
Cripes. Travis was holding Rachel with his other arm, tucked against his body and out of harm’s way.
“Oh…sorry…ah, I—” He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t know what he’d been thinking.
A small handful, a perfect fit, her belly hard and warm against him, she belonged in his arms.
It felt natural and good to hold her.
No! No, no, no. He didn’t need a woman in his life right now, especially not one laden with burdens he didn’t want to bear.
A funny smile curled her lips. “I truly can take care of myself, Travis. I deal with stuff like this most nights.”
“I really didn’t know I was doing that.”
“I know. I could tell.”
The feeling of well-being, and the sense of rightness she engendered in him, shook him so badly that he rushed to let her go.
Before he could, the softest of touches flitted across his ribs. Wonder filled him.
The touch had come from Rachel’s big belly.
Dear Reader (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9),
Rodeo Father is my very first Harlequin Western Romance and I am thrilled to be a new member of the Western family.
I have a soft spot for cowboys and babies, so Western fits the bill perfectly for me!
In Rodeo Father, nomadic loner Travis Read arrives in yet another town, determined to stick around only long enough to make a home for his sister and nephews. He will move along the second they are settled.
He doesn’t count on having his heart stolen by the appealing widow who lives across the street, and by her little girl, too. Travis has had enough burdens to last a lifetime, so he doesn’t need this attraction to a pregnant woman.
What he doesn’t realize is the profound depth of his own loneliness and the desire to set down roots he didn’t know existed.
Travis has lived on the outside looking in for too long. When the widow invites him into a world of tenderness and affection he thought existed only for others, he can’t resist.
He has always thought the life of a family man, and of fatherhood, was restricted to others and never meant for him.
Rachel McGuire turns out to be the answer to dreams he wouldn’t admit he’d been having. Rodeo, Montana, becomes home.
I absolutely loved writing Travis and Rachel’s story. I hope you enjoy reading it!
Mary Sullivan
Rodeo Father
Mary Sullivan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A city girl born and raised, MARY SULLIVAN found her mother’s anecdotes about growing up in rural Canada fascinating. Mary’s first career as a darkroom printer fueled her creativity. When traditional darkrooms disappeared with the advent of computers, she learned enough about the machines to use them to fuel her other passion—writing. Once she redirected her energy to creating stories of romance, her mother’s tales came back to her and now she devotes her time to writing about rural life. She chooses cowboys and cowgirls for many of her stories. Her Harlequin Superromance books have won awards and earned wonderful reviews. She is now thrilled to write Harlequin Western Romances, too! She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, marysullivanbooks.com (http://www.marysullivanbooks.com).
To my wonderful agent,
Pamela Hopkins, who continues to have
faith in me book after book after book.
Offering you a profound Thank You.
Contents
Cover (#u8119bc1e-1c0d-50fe-a516-873d5c16d276)
Back Cover Text (#uc46baae8-f7a9-5149-aac2-6f74bef5357f)
Introduction (#ua12e0b28-8f5e-59a3-8bbb-e2653d080f9f)
Dear Reader (#ue4b4492d-ee7d-547b-914c-ab205baa3002)
Title Page (#u7b6addab-2867-52a8-ac6c-c90be3e17f72)
About the Author (#ud28366c8-e4d6-500f-a861-3e481eb556ed)
Dedication (#ufb67b111-dd2b-5913-8a4e-a86c268b608f)
Chapter One (#u1cdc1d44-e47a-5dc5-9d9a-dc19bbb90b76)
Chapter Two (#u08eabd0a-0b23-5aa1-a623-07a54e8aa262)
Chapter Three (#ue91e754b-7743-5299-9de6-6e5f60d42a23)
Chapter Four (#ua85aa167-15fe-51f9-82cb-d420862768c5)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
Travis Read stood on the outskirts of Rodeo, Montana, and stared at the sorriest excuse for a midway he’d ever encountered.
He’d pulled his truck over for a closer look.
Old rides littered the prairie like a county fair graveyard. Rusty signs hung askew.
A hint he should hightail it out of town before he’d even arrived? Maybe, save for one ride. Front and center, a spit-shined carousel stood out from the other decaying machines as though risen fresh from the grave.
Merry-go-rounds weren’t usually on Travis’s radar, whimsy being a stranger in his life, but he had his nephews to think about now.
He’d bet both his old Stetson and broken-in cowboy boots the boys would be tickled by the carousel. He was.
Gleaming in the meager late-October sunshine, the merry-go-round seemed like a good omen.
No way, Travis.
Grimly, he straightened his spine. He didn’t believe in omens, good, bad or otherwise.
“You look like a man who could use a smile.”
A feminine voice drifted out of the early-morning mist that shrouded the hushed countryside, carried on the faint breeze like a melody.
A young woman stepped up behind one of the inanimate ponies on the ride, materializing with a playful smile and a smear of grease across her left cheek.
One fist gripped a wrench and the other a rag, which she used to burnish a gilded saddle on a white pony. The contrast of that wrench and the small hand charmed Travis. No mean feat. He didn’t charm easily.
She thought he could use a smile. Dead right.
The woman grinned and his heart stuttered. Good vibes shimmered from her like sunshine reflecting off clear water.
The corners of his mouth, rusty with disuse, twitched.
“Yes, ma’am, I sure could use one of those.” No sense denying the truth she’d picked up on. “You don’t see many of these around anymore.”
She crossed her arms on the elaborate saddle. “Bet you’ve seen better looking amusement parks.”
“Could use some work.”
She laughed. “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.” As she stared around the downcast place, her expression became subdued.
Her friendliness had lightened up the gray corners of his heart.
“Nothing a little elbow grease won’t cure,” he ventured, clumsy in his attempt to make her smile again.
She drew herself up and grinned. Aaah. Better.
“Yes,” she said. “You’re absolutely right.”
Unnaturally drawn to this attractive stranger, Travis leaned forward, his body pressing against a wood-slat fence that needed a hammer, a whole lot of nails and a few coats of paint.
“Someone’s done a good job on the carousel.” By the look of pride on her face, he’d found the culprit. “Looks great.”
She looked great. Her smile warmed the chill in his heart.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He doffed his Stetson. His mom might not have taught him much, but she’d stressed the importance of good manners. “Travis Read.”
“Rachel McGuire.” Her voice rang like birdsong. “Haven’t seen you around town. Just passing through?”
She rested her chin on her crossed arms, her glance flickering toward his truck and horse trailer parked on the shoulder.
“Looks like you’ll be staying a while?”
He stiffened. He didn’t discuss his life with strangers, a habit ingrained years ago.
Yeah, he planned to stay, but only long enough to get his sister and nephews settled in, and then he’d be moving on.
No sense telling that to Rachel, no matter how attractive he found her humor-filled eyes.
It was none of her business.
“Got hired to work for the Webers,” was all he was inclined to share.
“On the Double U? You’re fortunate. Udall’s a good man. Uma mothers everyone for fifty miles around. As long as you’re a hard worker, they’ll treat you like gold.”
If there were a definition in the dictionary for hard worker it would be his name. He’d toiled since he was old enough to shovel shit and straw.
Enough about him.
He pointed to a sign dotted brown and green with rust and verdigris, which arched above the entrance to the park: Rodeo, Montana, Fairgrounds and Amusement Park, Home of Our World-Famous Rodeo.
“Heard a rumor the town’s planning on resurrecting that rodeo. Next summer?” Maybe he could earn a few extra bucks. He used to be good.
Damned if she didn’t perk right up.
“You rodeo?”
“Been known to ride a bull or two.”
The aurora borealis he’d once seen in northern Alberta had nothing on this woman’s smile.
Rachel brushed a lock of thick hair from her face. He thought the color might be called tawny. It glowed like liquid honey and looked as soft as a calf’s ear.
Her smile dazzled him and sent him off-kilter. She had some powerful mojo that had him falling like a load of bricks. Images tempted him, of cozy nights in his new home with a wood fire burning and a thick blanket on the floor beside the hearth, firelight dancing over golden skin, the two of them naked and indulging in the sweetest exercise known to man—
“Care for a ride?” she asked, eyes wide.
A ride? Was his face that transparent? His cheeks heated like coals in a grill.
His shock must have shown because she frowned and tapped the ornamental saddle. “I won’t make it go too fast if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Ohhhh, that kind of ride.
Well, hell, that was obvious, wasn’t it? She was standing on a carousel in a fairground.
Cripes, Travis, get your mind out of the gutter.
Where the heck had that daydream come from? His dreams had been beaten out of him early on in life.
Even so... A ride on a carousel... He yearned, an ache in his chest for a boyhood that had never existed.
Dusty stirred in the trailer. Travis shouldn’t leave him so long, but temptation swayed him.
He’d never been on an amusement park ride in his life. They’d never had money as kids. Later, he’d been busy keeping himself and Sammy fed and clothed, body and soul patched together with spit and determination.
With the likelihood of him still being here next summer paper-thin, this could be his one chance for a carousel ride.
Take it, that inner little boy who’d missed all of this in childhood urged.
Why not? How long would it take? Five minutes? He could spare that.
A laugh burst out of him. “You bet! I sure would like a ride, and you can make it go as fast as you want.”
As frisky as a young boy, he put a hand on the top rail and hopped over. The structure creaked under his weight.
“You need to shore up that fence.”
A waterfall of feminine laughter cascaded over him. “Ya think?” she asked. “Everything in this park needs work. It’s a never-ending job.”
Travis stepped up onto the carousel.
Up close, Rachel looked even better. His breath backed up in his throat, his world rocked by this one short woman.
She still stood behind the white pony. What he could see of her above its body sure looked fine.
Freckles dotted a pert nose and strong cheekbones. Flecks of gold flashed in eyes lit with an inner glow.
That her hazel eyes and some of the streaks in her hair matched was about the most striking feature he’d ever seen on a woman.
One small freckle dotted her bottom lip.
The tiniest pair of silver cowboy boots hung from stars in her earlobes.
He wondered what the rest of her looked like. With her arms crossed on top of the pony, the too-long sleeves of a plaid flannel jacket covered most of her hands. Her right hand still gripped the wrench.
Inside the collar of her jacket was a prettier shirt collar, Western, pink with white piping and small white flowers embroidered on the tips.
She caught him studying the flowers. “Bitterroot,” she said. “Montana’s state flower.”
A straw cowboy hat with a pink band embroidered with more bitterroot flowers hung behind her on the center column of the ride.
She flung an arm wide to encompass the characters on the old ride. The pungent scent of fresh paint and turpentine wafted from the structure. “Take your pick. I’ve been fine-tuning the engine and oiling her parts to put her to bed for the winter. I need to test her. Might as well have a passenger on board while I do.”
She smiled again. “Waste of energy otherwise, running her with no one on her. This lovely old lady was made to be enjoyed.” In her voice, he heard a world of affection.
“Choose your animal and climb on,” she said.
Travis walked around the carousel and rubbed his hand across the backs of the odd animals—odd for an amusement park ride, that was. Along with the usual horses were a pair of bighorn sheep, a bison, a cow, a white-tailed deer and an elk, all wearing ornate saddles. Strangest darned ride he’d ever seen.
He chose a big black bull.
“Predictable,” Rachel muttered, tempering it with a humorous tone.
“Sorry to disappoint, ma’am, but I’ve never seen a bull on a carousel ride before. It’s big and sturdy.”
In her quick glance down his big body, he saw admiration, but her eyes shifted away too quickly. So was she attracted to him? Or not?
“The bull should hold your weight,” was all she said.
He mounted. It did. He held on to a pair of long hard horns.
“Ready when you are,” he called back over his shoulder when he heard her walk away behind him.
From somewhere near the center column of the big old thing, she called, “Here you go.”
He heard a lever being moved. The ride took a few arthritic strides. Then the engine kicked in and picked up speed.
His breath caught. There was something to be said for taking your first ride as an adult.
“Hang on to your hat, mister. You’re going for the ride of your life.”
On this old thing? Not likely.
He liked her sense of humor. Together, they could have a lot of fu-u-u-u-u-n-n—
The carousel picked up more speed than a machine this large and heavy should. Travis gripped the horns. A breeze rushed past his ears, filling them with whispered sighs and longings he’d thought he’d given up on years ago.
“You want music?” she called.
“Yeah!”
The toots and whistles of a calliope filled the air with the old Beatles song “All You Need Is Love.”
Stress, responsibility and apprehension fell away, lifting his spirits. When had he ever been free?
Unadulterated joy filled him, the kind kids never question, but that had never had a place in Travis’s childhood.
There’d been tangled bits of hope hidden in miserly corners of his world, but there had never been joy.
He let go of the horns and spread his arms wide. The cool wind worked its way through his jacket and shirt, filling him with vitality and refreshing his tired mind. The sun, having finally burned off the morning fog, melted the permafrost of his heart.
His cowboy hat, part of his head for nearly twenty years, flew off.
A huge laugh startled out of him, snatched immediately by the wind and caught by Rachel. He heard her laugh in response.
After a time, the ride slowed and he wiped rivers of tears from his cheeks. He wasn’t crying. No. It was just the wind.
He smiled harder than he had in a long, long time.
“That’s more like it,” Rachel said as she waddled over, satisfaction tinting her tone. “That’s the kind of smile I like to see on a man’s face.”
Whoa. Back up. Waddled?
Her pregnant belly stuck out a mile. His dreams of warm winter nights, a fire in the hearth and a willing partner deflated like a weather balloon in a snowstorm.
The woman was about to pop. What was she having? Triplets?
When other people saw pregnant women, they got warm fuzzies. Not Travis.
Pregnant women made him think about being trapped, about expectations and responsibilities. He’d had his fill of those. Still did. Big time.
He had one big responsibility to handle in this town before hitching a ride on the next good breeze and heading back out.
Reluctantly, he dismounted, his dreams slow to die. But die they did. As always.
Oh, Lord, mischief lurked in Rachel’s hazel eyes. Damn the woman. She’d known exactly how attracted he’d been to her and how shocked he was now.
“Nice meeting you, Travis. I’m sure we’ll see each other around town.” She handed him his hat.
He settled it onto his head slowly, tamping it down with a hard tug, the grown man firmly back in place.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He might be disappointed in her pregnancy, but she’d given him a gift. His gratitude was sincere. He adjusted his expectations and left the carousel, his stride long and fierce.
He couldn’t get away fast enough, driving without a backward glance.
He didn’t believe in new beginnings. No matter where he went, he always ended up in the same old place.
Not so for his nephews. Travis wouldn’t let that happen to Jason and Colt. Damned if he would let them down. They deserved a good home, and he would create one for them here in Rodeo. They would get more out of childhood than he ever had.
Screw your head on right, Travis. Disappointment never killed a man. Get on with it.
With purpose compelling him forward, he put Rachel out of his mind and drove straight to the Double U, where he pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch house with cedar siding and red shutters framing wide windows.
No one answered the front door when he knocked.
He’d been here once before, the day he’d been hired, put in touch with the Webers by an acquaintance, a cowboy he respected and trusted.
That day, he’d taken a tour of the town and had known immediately it would work for Samantha and the boys.
He’d chosen a house for them, one that had been put on the market just a half hour before he stepped into the real estate office. The down payment had been a result of years of having nothing to spend his paycheck on but himself...and he didn’t need much.
A good, solid house. Needed some work, but it had been built well. A safe town. Meant to be.
Travis might not believe in good omens for himself, but he did for his only remaining family.
He ran his new boss, Udall Weber, to ground in the stable.
Udall shook hands with a firm grip. “Good to see you again. You get settled in all right?” A big man with a ruddy complexion, his skin had been ruined by years of hard work in the unforgiving elements.
“Not yet. Got an appointment in an hour to pick up the keys. Meantime, where can I put Dusty?”
“Last stall on the right. First, let’s saddle up for a quick tour of the ranch.”
“Glad to have one.”
“Take the weekend to get yourself organized. Monday will be soon enough to start work. We got fences that need mending before winter.”
Travis backed his horse out of the trailer. Dusty, a solid gray gelding he’d owned for a dozen years, had covered a lot of miles with him. His brief visits to get Sammy and the boys out of Vegas and settled in San Francisco seemed like a bad dream here on the stunning Montana prairie.
“Park your trailer behind the barn beside mine.” Udall pointed to a spot. “Don’t mind if you store it there for the winter till you get your place set up.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” His place never would be set up, not for permanently holding cattle.
His clothes were in a bag on the backseat of his pickup truck. His motorcycle rested in the bed. What else did he need?
Sammy’s voice rang in his head. You need a home, Travis. Put roots down somewhere and stay for longer than a year.
Nope.
“You meet anyone in town yet?” Udall asked, breaking into his thoughts.
A picture of whiskey-colored eyes and tawny hair flashed across his memory. “I stopped at the amusement park outside of town. Met a woman named Rachel.”
The corners of Udall’s mouth turned down. “Rachel McGuire.”
Travis frowned. “You don’t like her?”
“I like her fine. Lovely young woman. She’s got a rough road ahead, though. Husband’s dead and she’s pregnant, with another little one already at home.”
“Jeez, that’s tough.”
Wind knocked out of him, Travis had to admit he was one of the lucky ones. Sure, he had his problems, but that poor woman...what a future she had facing her.
His admiration grew. How she’d kept her good humor boggled his mind. Another kid at home as well as one on the way? Warning bells clanged. No matter how much he admired the woman, he’d be keeping his distance.
“What’s with the carousel? It’s great, but the rest of the place looks abandoned.”
“We got us a committee that’s reviving the park. They’ve set their sights on getting it up and running by next summer.”
“Think they can?” Considering what he’d seen today, Travis had his doubts.
“If anyone can, it would be Rachel and her gang.”
With a rough laugh, Udall strode away to saddle up, his denim jeans and shirt emphasizing his lean, hard frame.
Travis saddled Dusty, a chore he’d done thousands of times before. This was where he belonged, with horses and ranchers. Running his hand along the horse’s neck, he murmured, “You survive the trip okay, boy?”
He rode out with his new boss onto land as pretty as any he’d ever seen. He’d been raised in Arizona, a state with its own brand of stark beauty, but often arid. He liked the colors of Montana.
“Monday morning, we’ll get you out trailing,” Udall said. “One of the hands spotted a dozen cattle holed up in the gully at the south edge of the property.”
Travis followed him out onto the range.
“In his reference letter, Lester Green said you’re one of the best he’s ever seen at flushing cattle out of tough spots and bringing them home. Said you did real good up in Wyoming last fall.”
“Yeah. Lester was a good boss.” Travis loved trailing, one of his favorite jobs. “It’s late to be finishing up gathering cattle for the winter, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Had a couple of the hands out sick. Some kind of flu goin’ ’round.”
They spotted a sheep caught on a piece of damaged fence on the far side of a field of dormant alfalfa.
“You keep sheep?” Travis asked.
“My neighbor raises them and spins her own yarn.”
Together, they got the distressed animal off the fence, but not before it kicked Travis in his ribs.
He hissed.
“That hurt, I bet.” Udall said.
Travis rubbed the injury. “Part of the job.”
Udall set the animal loose on its own side of the fence. “I’ll come back with tools tomorrow and fix this.”
“Let me.”
Udall shot him a surprised look. “You sure? You only just got here.”
“I’m sure. Just spent too many days on the road. I’m itchy to get out on the land.”
Udall smiled approvingly. They mounted and rode on.
So darned glad to be back in the country, Travis breathed deeply of fresh air purer than anything he’d ever found in any city.
His worries fell away, leaving only the wind in his ears, the sun on the prairie and the warmth of the animal beneath him.
Chapter Two (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
Rachel McGuire rested her head against the inanimate pony’s unforgiving neck, unsure whether to laugh or have a good, hard cry.
What on earth had just happened to her poor battered heart?
The second she’d laid eyes on the new arrival, Travis Read, she’d been attracted to him.
What kind of man could melt her hardened heart with just a look from blazing blue eyes, the rustiest of smiles and so few words? And not just her heart, but also her pregnant body, waking it from a long slumber.
Could the timing possibly be worse?
What kind of poor, dumb fool was she for finding a man so attractive when she was more than seven months pregnant, and as big as that horse she’d heard shuffling in his trailer?
She’d wanted to flirt. But why would he ever be interested in her?
That smile? When he’d ridden the carousel? Oh, sweet heavenly pumpkins, pure and utter joy.
She’d given him a simple ride on a carousel, and he’d smiled at her as though she’d hung the moon.
And all of that lovely warmth and admiration she’d basked in had come to a crashing halt when he’d seen her belly.
Of course she understood why. Totally got it.
But wouldn’t it be nice to be carefree and available to flirt with a man who’d found her attractive?
Suck it up, Rachel. This is the life you chose. Live it.
Rachel laughed at her lapse in common sense. “You so need to get over yourself, Rach.”
She put the finishing touches on the carousel, preparing it for the coming winter. An hour later, she tucked away her tools, along with her unreasonable attraction to the new man.
She drove into town and stopped at the used-clothing shop.
Her wardrobe was pretty slim pickings at the moment.
She found a glittery maternity top she could wear to work. If she took off the sequins and rearranged the beading, she could remake the top into her own style. Embroidery, sewing and knitting calmed her. That she could take a five-dollar top and make it personal filled her with pride.
At the market, she shopped for next week’s groceries. In the produce section, she found marked-down overripe bananas that would make an excellent bread.
She picked up fruits and vegetables on special and root vegetables in season.
A huge bag of lentils was on sale. Good source of protein. She bypassed the expensive sugary cereals and instant oatmeal to pick up a bag of rolled oats. By the time she finished, she had an economical, nourishing menu planned for the weekend and coming week for herself and her daughter.
Maybe I should get a small steak to share with Tori. Her mother was always on her case about eating meat for the baby, and Tori was a growing girl who needed protein.
She perused the packages, but the prices worried her. She picked up one minuscule steak, shuffling along the counter to see if there was a better deal, until she ran smack dab into a hard body.
She looked up.
Travis Read. Here. In the grocery store.
Good grief. Was her heart going to do somersaults every time she met him? Or bumped into him? Literally.
He grasped one of her upper arms to steady her, his big palm warm even through Davey’s thick old jacket.
“I’m sorry!” Her heart thumped at just the sight of him let alone the touch of those long fingers. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Rachel’s skin seemed to constrict until it was a size too small for her body.
“No problem,” he said. “No harm done.”
The thick honey of his deep voice flowed along her nerves. Her pulse skittered a foolish teenage girl’s dance in her mature woman’s body.
Travis had a great mouth, finely shaped with a firm outline. How would his lips feel on hers? Would his kiss be more refined than Davey’s had been? Her husband’s kisses had been long on enthusiasm and short on finesse. She had a feeling Travis loved on a whole different level.
Get a grip, Rach.
“You okay?” Travis asked. He glanced down.
Too late, she remembered she’d opened her jacket when she’d entered the store. Her shirt wasn’t maternity and didn’t fit properly. Only the top three buttons were done up, and the bottom of the shirt splayed over her big belly.
Her nicer maternity jeans were hung up at home, waiting for her to put them on for work.
The pants she had on now, a pair she’d bought secondhand, were already worn out from her first pregnancy. The belly panel was stretched to the max, showing white flecks where the elastic had broken.
Good grief.
The silence went on too long. “You made it to the Double U?”
“Yeah. Made it there just fine.”
A dark shadow painted his strong jawline. He smelled of citrus. His body generated heat.
She stepped away.
Come down to earth, she scolded herself.
She dropped the one barely there steak she’d picked up onto her discounted vegetables and lentils. His basket held seven steaks. Seven!
Her economic situation had never embarrassed her in the past. Frustrated her? Oh, yeah. But caused her shame? No. It had merely been a fact of her life. It disconcerted her now, though.
Neither of them had said anything for a while. Their silence fell into truly awkward, uncomfortable territory.
“Don’t forget to add some vegetables,” she blurted.
Cripes, small talk had never stressed her out before. She could usually talk the paint off a barn door, yet here she stood with her mouth gone as dry as a popcorn fart.
Travis sidled away from her, hefting the basket with a rueful kick up of one side of his mouth. “Yeah, guess I’ll grab a few potatoes.”
“And greens.” Brilliant conversation, Rach.
He grimaced. “Maybe.”
She managed a reasonable facsimile of a grin. “Which means you won’t.”
His sweet fraction of a shy smile made a brief appearance.
He doffed his hat and left. “See you ’round town, Rachel.”
She watched him stride away.
The phrase salt of the earth came to mind. Travis Read would fit in well in Rodeo, maybe better than she did. After all, she wasn’t much of a cowgirl. She didn’t ride horses, and she didn’t live on a ranch.
She loved Montana, though, and loved her town with all of her heart. Rachel adored its basic, varied, salt-of-the-earth residents. She was working her fingers to the bone on next summer’s fair to keep the town alive and make it prosperous again.
Tamping down her wayward daydreams, she paid for her purchases.
At home, she poured a glass of OJ, taking it and an oatmeal muffin outside to soak up the rays of what might be one of the last good days of autumn.
She sat on the porch step—porch being a generous term for the slice of tilting wood and two steps hammered together under the front door of her mom’s trailer.
Sunlight flooding the valley reflected off the tarnished white wood siding of the Victorian across the road.
Rachel sighed. She missed Abigail Montgomery, her elderly friend. Her death, days after Davey’s, had been devastating. Worst time of her life.
She’d lost too much six months ago. Thoughts of her big, irrepressible Davey... Whew! Those could still bring her to her knees.
She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked. She missed him every night.
She’d already cried a river for him, and for Abigail, but she had a life to live and children to raise. She needed her good spirits to help shoulder her burdens.
Veering away from her grief before it brought on tears, she concentrated on the Victorian.
Her every-second-of-the-day dream about owning that house perked her up, rerouting her thoughts away from devastating memories.
To everyone else in Rodeo, the aging home looked like a run-down romantic anomaly in the Western landscape, but to Rachel it was perfect.
But then, romantic notions and daydreams had always been her downfall, hadn’t they?
Davey had never known about this particular dream. She’d wanted to surprise him with a fait accompli. Look, honey, I bought us a house.
Any day now it would be hers. She hadn’t heard even a whisper about whether Abigail’s British relatives were going to put it up for sale, but why wouldn’t they?
It was useless to them.
She’d scrimped and saved until she had just shy of five thousand dollars in change and small bills hidden in her closet.
Dumb spot to keep her money, but she and Davey had had a joint bank account. Had he known about this money, he would have siphoned off every spare cent for his motorcycle passion...or for treating his friends to beer every Friday night...or for chewing through money like it was cereal.
Davey had had those great big hands that could love her with enthusiasm, but they were a pair of sieves where money was concerned.
She should roll the change and count the money soon and get it into the bank. Later. Right now she needed these moments of rest.
The pretty trills of a horned lark on Abigail’s land floated across to her on the late-October breeze.
No one else in town would want that house.
There was no way there would be a speck of competition. It needed work.
It would be hers. It could have been hers a lot sooner had she married someone more practical.
The heart has a mind of its own, Rach, and you just have to follow it.
I sure did, didn’t I?
Yes. She sure had, right back into the financial insecurity she’d grown up with.
She let out a sigh full of hot air and yearning.
The distant hum of an engine—a motorcycle—cut through her daydreaming. Her unreasonable heart lurched with thoughts of her late husband.
A big Harley shot down the old road toward her.
It wasn’t Davey, of course. Never again would her husband ride home with a shit-eating grin that would light up any cloudy day.
She scrubbed her hands over her arms and shivered despite the sunshine. Oh, Davey.
The bike came close, closer, and slowed down enough to initiate the turn into Abigail’s driveway. Who was it?
The noise disturbed the lark. Routed, he surged from his hiding spot, his distinctive yellow-and-black face catching the eye of a white cat crouching in the grasses along the side of the road. Ghost. Abigail’s cat shot out toward the songbird, right into the bike’s path. No!
Rachel stumbled to her feet. “Get back,” she yelled.
The biker swerved to avoid the cat, Ghost ran back into the tall grasses and the bike tipped over. The machine flew across the road, screeching and shooting sparks, leaving the rider bouncing and rolling along the shoulder in a plume of dust.
In the ensuing silence, dirt and stones fell on his still body.
Rachel froze. Unwelcome memories of that awful day and the police officer at her door surged through her. He’s gone, ma’am, in a head-on collision with a tree. I’m sorry.
Resurrected shock held her immobile.
The man lay unmoving.
Rachel stared. Please, not another death. Abigail. Davey. No.
A groan from across the small highway galvanized her.
Rachel ran over, the only sound her pounding pulse.
He still hadn’t moved. Oh, dear Lord, please don’t die.
Kneeling beside him, she checked his body for signs of injury. Hard to tell through the leather. She touched his shoulders, arms and legs, feeling for broken bones. Under layers of solid muscle everything seemed fine, but what about internal injuries? She didn’t know how to check. With a wail of frustration, she tore into herself for never having taken first-aid classes.
One arm moved, raising the visor of his helmet.
Her frantic glance took in his face. He was conscious. Deep-set blue eyes watched her steadily, silently.
He reached up to remove his helmet. She stopped him with a hand on his wrist, feeling a strong pulse, thank God. “Should you do that? Is your head injured?”
Her voice shook. So did her hands.
“I’m good.” He took off his helmet, and she gasped.
Travis?
Of all people—What—? How—?
“Are you okay?” Her voice emerged reed thin.
He didn’t respond, just stared into her eyes, then touched her bottom lip with a glove-clad finger.
“Only one,” he murmured.
Huh?
His eyes met hers again, mesmerizing. She could fall into that blue gaze for hours. The moment stretched out. A smile, sweet and broad, curved the corners of his mouth.
Oh my-y-y. What did Travis use for toothpaste? Moonbeams?
He sat up slowly, his body coming close enough for her to feel his heat even through his leathers. She sat back on her heels.
She should tell him to be careful, to check for injuries, but couldn’t find her voice.
His hand brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, the leather soft against her skin. Grasping the tips of his glove with his straight white teeth, he tugged it off, then did the same with the other. Still mesmerized, Rachel stared, swallowed and stared some more.
Again he reached for her hair and ran his fingers through it, massaging her scalp. Rachel almost purred like a cat.
“Soft,” he said. “Calf’s ear.” He wasn’t making sense, but Rachel was too captivated to question him while he touched her with such gentle grace. Her traitorous desire overrode her common sense.
She moaned low in her throat.
He moved his hand to the back of her neck, urging her close to his chest. As pliable as a rag doll, she allowed it. His lips touched hers with velvety moisture and a faint exhalation of coffee-scented breath.
She hadn’t touched a man since Davey. Davey. Her late husband. Her eager, playful lover.
Pull back, Rach. Don’t allow this. Davey is only six months gone. You should—
He deepened the kiss. Taking his time, he caressed her tongue with his. His skill. Oh, his earnest, deep skill. Yes, to his awesome finesse. She’d known it would be like this. Heavenly bliss.
Rapture. Joy.
Need simmered inside her. In the months since Davey’s death, what she had needed most was his touch, his soothing physical support, one last endless night of blazing lovemaking.
A woman should be allowed to say goodbye to her husband. Rachel’s anger wrestled with her guilt and desire.
Fireworks blazed. Buried dreams came to life. This man’s touch, his mouth, soothed away aching, aching grief.
Rachel sighed and lost herself in his kiss, exploring his mouth with her ardent tongue.
She’d never kissed, had never been kissed, so slowly and intently. Her mind went blank and her body limp.
Elizabeth announced her presence with a hard kick to Rachel’s belly.
She pulled back. “Ouch.” She’d been kneeling too long.
“Ouch?” Travis’s voice sounded lost in a sensual fog, echoing how she felt.
“The baby kicked me. I need to stand up.”
“Baby?” Coming out of his daze, his eyes widened.
Horror spread across his features. “Sorry! God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’ve had a shock,” she managed to bite out, while she really wanted to blurt, Don’t be sorry. I’ve never been kissed like that in my life. I needed it. After all of the turmoil, and the crazy worries about the future, I needed something for me. Purely, selfishly, for just me.
But that was a daydream that required a hasty burial. Just me was not possible these days.
She eased away from him and rubbed her belly to soothe Beth.
“Are you okay?” she asked, striving to pretend she hadn’t been rocked by a stranger’s kiss, that this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Yeah.” He nodded with a perplexed frown.
Did he understand any better than she what had just happened?
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“No ambulance. No hospital. I’m good.”
The cowboy she’d met a short while ago was gone, replaced by a motorcycle rider. “No head injury? You were out cold.”
“Naw. Not out cold, just winded.”
“But you didn’t move when I was checking you for injuries.”
“No, I didn’t.” His jaw hardened, so briefly she barely caught it. She didn’t have a clue what was going on.
He stood and winced. “This head’s pretty hard. I’ve survived worse. Gonna be bruised tomorrow, though.”
Rachel struggled to get to her feet. Travis rushed to help her. “You shouldn’t be kneeling in your condition.”
In her condition. For a brief moment, she hadn’t been a pregnant woman, but a desirable one. He’d looked past her circumstances to her.
She stared at him. “Are you serious, Travis? I thought you were unconscious. I needed to check you. You could have been badly hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern,” he said, his hands strong beneath her elbows, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. “I’ll be stiff the next few days, but that’s all.” He made sure she was steady on her feet, took her hands in his and squeezed before he released her, his rough calluses a jolting return to reality.
She needed reality, needed to get her head back onto her shoulders. So, he hadn’t been knocked out, but maybe he’d been in shock. How else to account for that kiss? He hadn’t known he was kissing her. Maybe he’d thought she was an old girlfriend. Or a current one? After all, she was nothing to him.
His leather jacket had a tear along one arm. Travis could have been killed.
On a dime, those awful memories raced through her again. Davey, Davey, Davey.
Her blood arced and swooped through her arteries. Her pulse skittered worse than on a caffeine high. “You sure you don’t have internal injuries?”
“No injuries. Everything feels fine. Good thing I slowed down to take the turn.”
Rachel reached down to swipe dirt and gravel from her knees. A fine tremor ran through her. Anger overtook the fright he’d given her.
She couldn’t fend off images, thousands of Davey carefree and laughing, and that one horrifying imaginary picture of him broken by the side of the road thanks to his damned obsession with motorcycles. Because of them, he was gone for good, and her children were fatherless. What was it with men and their stupid, dangerous toys? Unfair, Rachel. A motorcycle is just a tool. Davey’s reckless speed had been the real problem.
Common sense held no sway, only anger. “Maybe you should stop riding motorcycles. They’re dangerous.”
At her sharp tone, he shot her a hard look. “Not if you know what you’re doing. Was that your cat that ran out in front of me?”
“No, it was Abigail’s.”
“Who’s Abigail?”
Rachel pointed to the aging Victorian. “That was her house.”
“Right,” he said. “I thought the owner died months ago. Who owns the cat now?”
“Ghost turned feral after her death.” Rachel drew a breath to steady her quavering voice. This man’s decisions were no concern of hers. Who was she to judge what he did with his life? She modulated her tone. “She won’t come near anyone. I’m worried about her.”
“She’s gonna get herself killed.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He strode to his bike and lifted it onto its tires, the machine as light as a bicycle in his capable hands. He was strong, but then again, she already knew that.
Where Davey had been tall and lean, Travis was maybe five-eleven and heavily muscled.
He turned the bike toward the house.
Those memories of Davey still haunting her, she couldn’t help but ask again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
His soft smile eased her anger, a bit. “Yeah, I’m good. Honest. How about you? You good?”
“I’m fine.”
He touched a couple of fingers to his forehead in a casual salute—no wedding band, not that she was looking—and then limped up the driveway toward the Victorian.
“Wait!”
He turned back.
“Why were you riding a bike? Where’s your truck?”
“Left it in the garage for a checkup. It’s been running rough, and I want it ready for winter.”
“Where’s your horse and trailer?”
“Udall’s letting me leave them on his ranch till I’m set up here.”
Here? At Abigail’s?
“Why are you going to Abigail’s house? Won’t you be bunking in the worker’s quarters on the Double U?”
“Nope. I’ll be living here.” He parked his bike at the side of the driveway. She followed him.
Living here. In Abigail’s house, which she hadn’t even heard had been rented. Travis would be living across the road from her, where she would have to see him every day and remind herself that no amount of makeup or dresses could change what she was...an ungainly woman who was a month and a half away from giving birth. No amount of dolling up would make her as attractive to him as he was to her.
But he’d kissed her.
He’d been stunned, dazed, that was all. She would probably never know who he’d really been kissing while he’d put his lips to hers so sweetly.
“No one told me the house had been rented.”
“Rented? No, ma’am. I bought the place.” He mounted the stairs to the veranda.
Bought—? Her house had been sold? When had it been listed, and why hadn’t she heard about it? This was a small town. Everybody’s business was an open book, for God’s sake, and not one person had thought to tell her the house she craved had been sold?
What do you expect, Rach? You kept that dream close to your chest, didn’t you?
True, she had. She hadn’t wanted people, not even Davey, to think poor Rachel McGuire was crazy enough to believe she could actually find a way to buy a house.
Maybe she hadn’t heard him properly.
She chased after him, stood at the bottom of the stairs and stared up at him.
“You’re joking, right?”
He frowned down at her from the top of the steps. “Why would I joke?”
“You’re not supposed to be living here. No one’s supposed to buy this house.” She sounded like a lunatic. She didn’t care.
Her house, the only thing she wanted more in life than her children’s health and happiness, had been sold.
The air became thin.
She panted. Stars danced in front of her eyes. Her vision narrowed. A moment later, she found herself sitting on the bottom step with a hand on her back urging her head between her knees. Hard to do with a nearly full-grown baby in the way. The cowboy squatted in front of her and chafed the backs of her hands.
“Are you all right?”
She straightened, still struggling for air, but not so dizzy.
“Are you hungry or something? You fainted. Good thing I caught you.”
She’d fainted and he’d caught her? The man moved fast.
“Wait a minute. Back up.”
When Travis started to pull away from her, she grasped his hands, craving his solid comfort as her daydreams slid into nightmare. He squatted on his haunches and watched her with a steady regard.
“I didn’t mean get away from me,” she said. “I meant, back up in the conversation. Please tell me I misunderstood. You did not buy this house.”
“I bought the house.”
“No.” It came out a croak, with tears clogging her throat. This house was supposed to be hers.
He watched her with pity. Great.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was Cindy Hardy’s daughter and a widowed, single mother with a bun in her oversize oven and a three-year-old daughter with no father, and that they lived in Cindy’s tin can, but now she had also lost the chance to own the only house in the county she could have ever hoped to afford...and the only one she’d ever dreamed of owning.
Sure, her itty-bitty down payment would buy a small trailer, but after the childhood she’d had, the thought made her sick. She wanted more for her children. She wanted a real home.
The man who had bought her house watched her as if he was afraid she would faint again.
A terrible rage arose in her.
She didn’t want pity. She wanted a knock-down, drag-out fight, to pound something hard and not stop for a good month.
Bursting with the unfairness, she pushed against the cowboy squatting in front of her. Travis fell onto his butt in the dirt.
“Hey!”
Rachel had never touched another person with violence in her life.
She stood. Her belly might make a swift exit impossible, but she couldn’t stay here.
He jumped to his feet and grasped her upper arms to stop her. “Why’d you do that? I’ve done nothing to you.”
She kept her mouth shut because, if she didn’t, she would start to scream and never stop.
His big hands still gripped her arms. She hated him. She didn’t want him to stop touching her.
She put her hands against his chest to push him away, but her outrage deflated. If she could fall into the earth and disappear, she would. He was right. He had done nothing to her. Life had. As hard as she fought, she couldn’t get ahead.
Stuff happened.
She was tired of stuff happening.
She would just have to work harder. And harder. And harder. God, she was tired.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her palms soothed by the solid beat of his heart beneath his worn denim shirt.
Despite his confusion, despite how she had just treated him, he watched her with concern. Travis was kind and good, and she was behaving like a child.
“I truly am sorry.”
“It’s okay. I can see you’re upset.”
She started down the driveway to go home, or what passed for a home.
“You’re shaky,” he called. “You need some help getting across the road?”
Cripes. The day had started so well. For a short while, he’d found her super-duper attractive. Now, he was treating her like an invalid.
“I can manage by myself,” she answered with a touch of irritation.
She managed to make it inside the front door before the first tears fell.
After five minutes of the worst pity party she’d thrown for herself since Davey’s death, she rinsed her face and called her friend Nadine.
Rachel brought her up to speed on everything that had just happened.
“I’m angry, Nadine. Mad to the soles of my shoes. Life has to start turning around for me sometime soon.”
Nadine said, “I hear you, sweetie. You’ve had a rough go of it. How can I help?”
Nadine wrote for the local newspaper. She was handy with research and a computer.
A need for...something...burned inside Rachel. Vengeance, maybe? Or perhaps just to learn that Travis was not the perfect man he appeared to be? That he was flawed and unworthy of her attraction? That he didn’t deserve her house? It would be so much easier to think of him as her enemy if she didn’t like him so much.
“Find out about him,” she ordered Nadine. “You’re a great reporter. You do research for your articles. Find out who Travis Read really is and then let me know.”
“Will do, honey. I’ll get back to you soon.”
Rachel wished Tori were home right now. She would give her daughter the biggest hug, but every Friday morning, Cindy and Tori had a standing date for a few hours of shopping and then lunch at the mall.
Cindy worked at the hair salon in town and had disposable income. Cindy cared more for clothes and perfect nails than she did about improving her living situation.
Every week, she gave Tori the treats that Rachel could not afford and, every week, Rachel rose above her own regret and envy to be happy for Tori.
The new mall out on the highway twenty miles away was a monstrosity into which Rachel refused to set one foot. She liked the shops on Main Street, thank you very much.
Her mom loved the mall, but then, she had no sense of loyalty to her town at all.
Rachel missed Victoria. They’d only been gone a few hours, but Rachel needed her daughter something fierce.
Tori was goodness and light and the antidote to every disappointment life had visited upon Rachel.
She took her straw cowboy hat from the hook beside the door. She’d embroidered the bitterroot flowers on the band herself, as well as the ones on the secondhand shirt she wore. She set it on her head defiantly, then sat on the porch step to wait for her daughter to come home. She shouldn’t be wearing straw at this time of year, at the end of October for Pete’s sake, but Davey had given it to her after their first date. ’Nuff said.
Chapter Three (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
What the hell had that kiss been about? Travis took himself to task about as hard as he ever had in his life.
What had he been thinking? He knew only that Rachel had run across the road and had touched him with hands more caring than any he’d ever known. Her concern for him, a man about whom no one cared or gave a second thought, was a powerful attraction.
Women usually wanted stuff from him, as opposed to worrying about him.
After a childhood as bereft of affection as a snowball in hell, tenderness took him by surprise.
He’d been winded and shocked at losing control of his bike, flat on his back cursing himself for a fool, and then there she was like an angel, leaning over him with thoughtful concern and fear for his well-being.
His parents hadn’t cared. His sister would have, but he’d spent too many years taking care of her and their pattern was set in stone. He was the caretaker, not she.
Travis watched the woman waddle back to the sad-looking trailer across the road, stubborn defiance stiffening her spine.
She asked for nothing and offered so much. Too much.
Have a care, Travis. You don’t even know the woman and already you’re kissing her?
He’d never done anything like it in his life. He’d had plenty of one-night stands, but not with women with pregnant bellies and a whole barn load of responsibility.
Lying in the road with his protective shields down, this morning’s attraction had flared.
Her hair turned out to be every bit as soft as a calf’s ear. And she’d tasted as sweet as he’d imagined.
But what good was attraction when he could do nothing with it? She was pregnant. He had a glut of duties to fill in the coming months. He didn’t need more.
He had his own life to live.
Case closed, Travis. End of story, got it?
He needed to back away from Rachel and stay away.
He unhooked his saddlebags from his bike and carried them into his house. His house.
Travis Read. Homeowner. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Home. Lord, how did a man learn how to make a home when he’d never known a single good one in his whole life?
The challenge scared the hell out of him.
The empty rooms waited like hungry sponges to soak up the noise and chaos Jason and Colt would surely create.
Was he doing the right thing in uprooting them and bringing them here? He had only his gut to rely on, and it was shouting a resounding yes.
In the old-fashioned kitchen, he unpacked his groceries and put them into the ancient fridge.
Upstairs, he chose the largest bedroom for himself and the new king-size bed he’d ordered. He’d slept in bunkhouses all his adult life. Now he owned a bed.
Soon it would be Samantha’s, and he’d be back in another bunkhouse somewhere.
His bags hit the floor with a solid clunk.
Walking back downstairs, he stared around. By the time Sammy and her boys arrived, he needed to turn this house into a home.
He had plenty of work ahead of him, in cleaning up the place and renovating. Floors needed sanding and walls painting.
He had no template to guide him. He would start with whatever needed fixing and then take inspiration from the many ranch wives who’d made homes and fed him and his fellow cowboys on too many ranches to count.
There was nothing inside him to draw on.
He had plenty of longing, but zero know-how.
Moving on was all he knew, and bunking with a dozen other men was his way of life.
Travis Read. Homeowner. A home meant obligation and duty, a millstone around a man’s neck...and he was damned tired of those.
* * *
RACHEL SAT ON the porch and watched her mother pull into the driveway and park her decked-out pickup truck beside Rachel’s old junker.
Cindy Hardy had no understanding of the notion less is more.
She had bought every chrome feature the local dealership could get its hands on.
Thank God Rachel had been able to talk her out of a lift kit.
Cindy mistakenly assumed that men drooled over her, when all they really wanted was her truck.
Too many of the men in town had known Cindy, as in known known, to want to have anything to do with her romantically.
To the people of Rodeo, Montana, Cindy had always been and would always be the girl from the trailer park—even if there was no park, only a trailer.
The second Cindy got Tori unbuckled, Rachel’s daughter jumped out of the truck, came running toward her mom and threw herself into her arms, squealing, “Mommy, Mommy.”
Rachel broke into a huge smile and hugged her little three-year-old bundle of joy. Cindy unloaded the bags. Rachel oohed and aahed over her daughter’s new purchases. Cindy had bought her a lot of fun stuff. Thank goodness it wasn’t all toys, but also new clothes. Another week of Cindy’s wages down the tubes.
Rachel should tell her to stop, but without Cindy buying Tori’s clothes, the child would have little to wear. Besides, how could she tell Tori’s only grandmother to stop spoiling her?
Nope. She didn’t have it in her heart to ruin Cindy’s fun, even if Cindy never had understood that it would have been better to have saved at least some of her money to improve her life’s situation than to wait for some man to come along and save her.
Rachel would never, not in a million years, depend on a man again where her finances were concerned. She planned to scrimp and save and work until her knuckles hurt, and then get her children into a stable, secure home life.
Tori chattered away, reminding her of what was at stake.
Davey’s parents had both died when he was in high school. Ironic that it had been a car crash.
Cindy was Tori’s only other relative apart from Rachel.
Maybe one day a week of being spoiled wasn’t so bad.
A sound from the road caught their attention. A truck turned into Abigail’s—correction, Travis’s—driveway.
Rachel brushed her fingers through Tori’s soft blond curls. Mother Nature had fashioned her daughter’s hair out of strands of pure sunlight.
She and Tori watched the activity across the road, Rodeo’s version of reality TV.
“That’s a big chruck, Mommy.”
“Truck,” Rachel corrected automatically. “It sure is, Tori-ori-o.”
With a pang of deep-seated regret, Rachel thought, My house belongs to someone else now.
“What’s going on over there?” Cindy asked.
Cindy Hardy wore full makeup, and styled and sprayed hair. She’d tucked a sparkly, faux-Western shirt into her favorite jeans, which in turn were tucked into polished gray snakeskin cowboy boots, boots that had never seen the inside of a barn. A big rodeo belt buckle, a gift from a former lover, accentuated a still-trim waist.
Rachel suspected the guy had probably had a bunch of buckles made up expressly to give to women like Cindy. No rodeo rider worth his salt would give his own buckle away.
“It sold, but we didn’t hear about it,” Rachel said, not bothering to update her mother on details. The thought of introducing her to Travis made Rachel antsy in a way she didn’t want to look at too closely.
Cindy was still young and attractive, even if her style wasn’t something that appealed to Rachel.
Two men got out of the truck. “Wonder if the new owner will paint,” Rachel murmured. “It needs to be freshened up.”
Cindy’s husky laugh mocked her. “It needs a heck of a lot more than a coat of paint.”
Resentment shot through Rachel. “I would have been happy to have done the work to fix it up.” A fixer-upper was the only kind of house she could ever hope to buy.
A commotion across the road snagged her attention, as the two burly men opened the rear doors of the truck.
Travis didn’t own much. The truck was less than half full. The men unloaded a large dresser and carried it into the house.
Tori marched her fingers up Rachel’s leg, singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
Rachel glanced down at her three-year-old daughter, gazing into eyes so blue they rivaled the cloudless sky, into Davey’s eyes, the first thing that had attracted Rachel to him. His brilliant, laughter-filled eyes.
She was struggling to replace his laughter in their lives.
The pair of movers came back for a big leather sofa. “Too masculine. That house needs comfortable, cozy sofas and armchairs. Shabby chic. Chintz.”
“Chins,” Tori whispered.
The furniture looked brand-new.
Travis came outside, all traces of leather gone. The cowboy she’d met this morning stood on the front porch.
He leaned against a veranda post, a rugged movie star in worn jeans, a snug white T-shirt, denim jacket, well-used cowboy boots and a black Stetson.
He should have looked out of place on Abigail’s old-fashioned veranda. He didn’t. He looked...perfect.
Cindy whistled. “Good-looking man. He bought that house? Wow. Who is he?”
Rachel didn’t fill her in. She had never, not once in her life, competed with her mom where men were concerned, but she felt a rivalry now with a raging fire.
“What does he need a whole house for?”
Good question. “I don’t know, Cindy.”
Rachel had had time to cool down. Contrary to what she’d thought earlier, Travis was not her enemy. He was only a man who’d somehow managed to do better in life than she had.
His glance swept the countryside, Cindy’s house, Rachel and Tori...and Cindy.
What good looks Rachel lacked, Cindy had in spades. Tori had inherited her blond curls from her grandmother, along with her charming dimples. Somehow those had bypassed Rachel.
All Rachel had were strong features and freckles, courtesy of a father she’d never met.
“I’m going over to meet him.” Cindy squeezed past Rachel and Victoria and stepped down from the porch.
“No!” Rachel didn’t want her mother embarrassing her. “Mom, please. Don’t—”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t flirt with him like you do with every man you meet.”
Cindy wouldn’t just be welcoming Travis to the neighborhood. She would ramp it up to see what she could get out of the man.
“He’s the best-looking man we’ve had around here in ages. If you think I’m going to pass him up, you’re nuts.” Cindy rubbed her hands on her thighs, the gesture telling. “I’m still young. I can flirt with any man I want. It’s none of your business.”
Cindy was pretty enough to turn any man’s head, but she’d been plagued with a neediness that routinely drove her into the arms of the wrong kind of man.
Relentless, she was forever on the lookout for her next conquest.
Her sights had just zeroed in on the one across the way.
“Please, Cindy, no. You want to get your hooks into him.” Rachel knew Cindy’s needs inside and out. The vulnerability in the depths of her eyes was exactly the thing that had gotten her into trouble when she was only fifteen, hitching her pony to a good-looking drifter’s wagon and then getting pregnant. Whoever the guy was, he’d been long gone by the time Rachel had been born.
Rachel was twenty-eight and her mother only forty-three. Rachel guessed Travis to be in his mid-to late thirties. Cindy could conceivably flirt with him, but what a load of trouble it could bring.
“Mom, he’s not a drifter. He’s our new neighbor. He bought the house, for Pete’s sake.”
“So?”
“So...” Rachel said with forced patience. “This could go wrong in so many ways.”
“Everything will be fine. I’m only going over to talk to him.” In Cindy’s voice, Rachel heard the hints of desperation that had been growing stronger since Cindy had turned forty.
“And when the relationship goes sour, as it always does?” Rachel’s displeasure bubbled over. She’d seen this movie too many times and hated the ending. “How good a neighbor will he be then? How good will you be?”
Cindy shrugged. “Maybe this time it will work out.” She started to mosey down the driveway, but turned back. “You could always move into a place of your own, and then you wouldn’t have to watch me talk to men.” She walked across the road.
Mom was right. This was her mother’s home, not hers. Cindy could flirt with whomever she wanted. “Come on, sugar pie, let’s go inside,” Rachel said, urging Tori ahead of her, unwilling to witness Cindy’s performance.
Inside the house, she strode to the kitchen and settled Tori into a chair.
In the bedroom, Rachel chose one of her few maternity shirts and put it on with her good maternity jeans.
She returned to the kitchen where she put the finishing touches to the dinner she’d made to take to work with her, every action staccato and peevish.
She had no claim on the new stranger. Cindy could do whatever she wanted with him.
She packed a quinoa salad and a pint of milk, dropping them into her bag too hard.
Forcing herself to calm down, she took Tori’s tiny face between her hands. Rachel kissed her forehead and her nose. “I love you, sweetie. Come sit on the porch and wave goodbye.”
She picked up her purse from the hall table and left the trailer, making sure Cindy was on her way back before heading to her car.
Tori retrieved her favorite stuffed animal, a furry gray platypus. Rachel shook off dirt before she let her daughter hug it to her chest. “Stay on the porch till the car is gone, okay?”
She approached Cindy who’d moseyed back across the highway with her ultra-sexy, phony walk that Rachel disliked.
Wary of her mom’s Cheshire cat grin, she asked, “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a date,” Cindy said with a whole boatload of smugness.
Disappointment thrummed through Rachel. So that’s the kind of man Travis was, a guy who kissed strangers, but liked flashy women like Cindy. Was the man a player? Had she pegged him all wrong? “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight? But I’m working. You’re taking care of Tori.”
“I know. I’ll ask Laurie to babysit for a few hours.” Cindy went to the porch and bent to talk to Tori. “You don’t mind, do you, honey? Laurie is fun.”
“She colors with me.” Tori smiled with Cindy’s dimples.
“But I can’t afford to pay her,” Rachel objected, knowing Cindy wouldn’t offer to pick up the tab.
“Sure you can. You make good tips at the bar.”
“But—” What could she say? I need money to move out, to get away from you? She couldn’t bear to sound so cold and ungrateful, especially not when Cindy had been kind enough to take her in. Rachel should have never moved back into the trailer with Cindy and her resentment, but what else could she have done? Davey had left her with nothing but broken promises and hot air.
Rachel gave in to the inevitable. “Okay. I’ll be home after one.”
Before leaving, Rachel kissed Tori again because, while Davey hadn’t been able to keep a buck in his pocket, he had made her laugh a lot and had given her the most precious of gifts, two children.
Just as Rachel opened her car door, Tori called, “See you later, aggilator.”
Ah, Victoria, my sweet divine daughter, you raise my spirits as much as your father used to.
Rachel blew her an air kiss. “Alligator, Tori-ori-ori-o. In a while, crocodile,” she sang and got into her old car and drove away laughing, but not before catching her new neighbor watching her with a strange expression on his face.
Travis Read, who are you? The man who loved his carousel ride this morning, or the kind who is attracted to a flashy, shallow flirt like my mother?
* * *
A HEADACHE POUNDED behind Rachel’s left eye. The tray full of beers she carried dragged down her arms. Was the music louder than usual tonight?
Honey’s Place was the only bar in Rodeo. True, there was the diner, but her friend Vy ran an alcohol-free eatery, and most people wanted beer with their fries on a Friday night.
A lot of these people were cowboys who worked the ranches in the area. They came in at the end of the week for liquor, great burgers and fun music.
Despite her aching legs and feet, Rachel hustled. She needed her tips, needed to come up with an alternative plan now that Abigail’s house had been sold.
If she felt a tad desperate, well...she was.
A table called for a round of beers. Rachel headed to the bar to fill the order.
“How’re you doing?” Rushed but efficient, Honey Armstrong filled orders as quickly as her servers brought them to the bar. Her mane of long, blond curls wild tonight, she peered at Rachel critically. “You look tired.”
Fearful of giving Honey a reason to send her home early, Rachel put on her game face.
“I’m good.”
“Rach, don’t try to fool me. You know you can’t.”
“I’ll take a dinner break soon,” Rachel promised.
Honey pointed a finger at her. “You’d better. You look worn out.”
It was Friday night, the bar was packed and Rachel needed to hustle. She would take care of her aching body tomorrow morning.
Off-duty, Sheriff Cole Payette, sidled up to the bar and sat on the only empty stool. His spot. No matter how busy Honey’s got, the locals left it empty for him. Friday and Saturday nights often found him sitting there for hours, nursing a beer.
Rachel liked him.
As it turned out, Rachel didn’t get that break she’d promised Honey she would take. Her energy flagged, but customers continued to pour in.
With every step, her feet screamed for attention.
Too bad. As long as there were customers, she would continue to work and bring in tips.
She set a heavy tray of mugs of beer onto the table next to the front door and handed them around. She was just making change when she felt a draft. New arrivals. Good. More tips.
She glanced up...and froze. Cindy walked in with Travis, the man freshly shaved and movie-star handsome, the tips of his hair still damp from a shower, she guessed.
Why couldn’t Cindy have taken him to the diner for dinner? Why come here? But Rachel knew. Her mom was showing off that she was with the handsome new cowboy in town, and Honey’s would be a lot more crowded than the diner. Cindy liked an audience.
She wore even more spangles tonight and had put on her sparkly eye shadow.
When he saw Rachel, Travis raised one eyebrow as if to ask, “You work here?”
Rachel suppressed the part of herself that found him attractive.
Fantasizing about a handsome stranger when she looked like a beer barrel on legs was just the type of daydreaming she had to quit.
Anyhow, Cindy must be his type. He’d asked her out on a date pretty darn quickly, hadn’t he? Which meant he wasn’t Rachel’s type. And why was she having those kinds of unlikely thoughts, anyway? He was dating Cindy, and he had bought Rachel’s house. Cindy was welcome to him.
Rachel’s dating days were long over.
Then why, in the middle of a crowded bar surrounded by people she’d grown up with and loved, did Rachel feel so lonely? So in need of someone to talk to? Of someone who would listen? Or who would just hold her hand so she didn’t feel desperately alone?
Travis and Cindy sat at one of her tables, and Rachel left them with menus while she finished delivering drinks to another couple of tables.
When she returned, she pointed to the hooks lining the walls on either side of the door. “You can hang your hat there.”
Travis raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t notice them. No one will take it?”
Rachel’s grin might have been tired, but she dredged up a ghost of this morning’s sass. He needed to understand what kind of town he’d moved to.
“Not in this town. A man’s hat is sacred around these parts. All the establishments in town have their cowboy hat hooks.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“What can I get for you two?”
“A gin and tonic and a bacon burger with fries,” Cindy said.
“I’ll take a Corona,” Travis said, “with an order of the hottest wings you got, a bacon double cheeseburger and a side of onion rings. You have coleslaw?”
Rachel nodded.
“Creamy?”
“Sharp vinaigrette.”
“The way I like it. I’ll take a side of that, too.”
The way she liked it, too. “I’ll make sure it’s slurpy.” She smiled.
Travis’s returning smile might have been small, but moonbeams dazzled.
Get your head out of the clouds, Rachel.
Cindy sniffed.
After Rachel picked up the menus and walked away, she heard Travis say, “She looks tired. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”
So are you, Mom. Tough as nails. She bit down on that thought. It was uncharitable. Mom had a right to her fun, but Rachel was filled with jealousy, a mean-spirited emotion unworthy of her, but undeniable. She wouldn’t mind sitting down for a carefree evening in a bar for drinks and a burger with a handsome man.
Hey, you chose your life. You need to live it without regrets.
A good philosophy, just hard to hold on to when she was dog-tired.
Chapter Four (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)
Travis delivered his hat to the row of hooks on the wall at the front of Honey’s Place.
Cowboy hat after cowboy hat graced the wall, most in muted blacks and tans, but a couple in white. Seemed to be the only kind of hat here.
He glanced around at the Western decor with its twin themes of old and new. Big old wagon wheels lined the walls along with huge modern landscapes of local scenery, not overly sentimental stuff, but rugged and true to nature. Local artist, maybe?
Hundreds of white fairy lights illuminated the rafters.
The people were loud, but Travis heard not one discordant note, just a lot of folks having a good time. The huge space rang with laughter. Denim and Western shirts abounded, along with plenty of silver jewelry on the women. He didn’t doubt a good portion of the hats on the wall belonged to those same women.
My kind of town.
A country and western band belted out hits from a small stage at the back end of the long room. He tapped his fingers on his thighs.
He returned to the small table Cindy had chosen, a table that fit only two, snugly. She’d said they were meeting up with a bunch of her friends.
“So where are the friends we’re supposed to meet?” Travis asked. He had to make sure she got his message loud and clear. This wasn’t a date.
He wasn’t looking for romance. Besides, she wasn’t his kind of woman at all.
“They’ll be along soon,” she said, her gaze darting about the bar and her knee doing a quick jig. “Do you dance?”
Before he could respond, she was hauling him out of his seat and to the dance floor where they joined a crowd of line dancers moving to a Brooks and Dunn cover.
Just as the second song started, he spotted Rachel carrying a tray of food and drinks to their table. He dragged Cindy off the dance floor. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
When Rachel put the tray down, it wobbled. He ran to grab it.
“I’m okay,” she said, but his beer tipped over the edge and landed on the floor. The bottle shattered, sending suds all over his boots.
Rachel gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll clean it up.” She rushed away.
He still held the tray with the food. He spread the plates and Cindy’s drink on their table, and left the empty tray on the bar.
“Rachel’s always been clumsy.” Cindy looked unhappy. Thunderclouds formed on what had been a clear evening. Travis didn’t know what went on between these two women. The last place he needed to be was stuck in the middle.
“The tray was heavy. No problem. A little beer never hurt a pair of boots.” He waggled his eyebrows comically to ease Cindy’s pique. “These’ve survived a hell of a lot worse.”
Cindy seemed to relax.
Rachel returned with a broom and mop, her stomach leading the way. “I’ll get you another beer, but I need to clean this up before someone slips and falls.”
“You go get the beer. I’ll do this.” He tried to take the broom away from her, but she held on.
“Nope.” Rachel shot him a look of grim determination. “It’s my job.”
“I don’t mind. I can do it.”
“No.” The woman had a strong grip, and even stronger willpower.
Travis let go, and she swept up the glass.
“You look pale. You okay?”
Her back stiffened as though maybe he’d offended her. Note to self. Don’t show this woman pity.
“I’m peachy,” she said, struggling to smile, but tense lines bracketed her mouth.
The sexy good humor he’d found so attractive this morning had crawled home to bed early, leaving behind an exhausted shell.
Someone called from another table. “Rachel, we need another round here.”
“Be right there, Lester.” She rushed to the bar and placed their order, returned with Travis’s beer, then disappeared into the back. A minute later, she returned with a freshly rinsed mop and finished cleaning up. Then she hurried to the bar and picked up a full tray of drinks.
Head spinning from the whirlwind, Travis asked, “You worry about her at all?”
Cindy sighed. “Yeah, I do, but she chose to marry a lazy loser. Whatever trouble she’s in, she brought on herself.” She pointed a French fry at him. “Before you start thinking I’m heartless, I took her back in after her husband died.”
“Shame he died. Man, that’s tough.” He couldn’t imagine how hard it would have been for his sister if her husband had died before Colt was born.
Cindy nodded. “I babysit her daughter when she’s working.”
“Except for tonight.”
“I needed a night out.” He’d put her on the defensive.
Careful to keep censure out of his voice, he asked quietly, “There are no friends coming, are there?” She’d assured him she was meeting people, and he was welcome to join them. The woman had misrepresented the evening.
“No.” She smiled with the barest hint of hope in her eyes. “Being out with me isn’t so bad, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.” Which was mainly true. Cindy had a lot of perky energy. “I gotta be honest, Cindy. I’m not looking for romance. I just need to get settled in. This isn’t an official date.” He softened it with a smile. “It’s good to be out on a Friday night with a pretty woman, though.”
Mollified, she sipped her drink.
Just after he’d taken a bite of an excellent charred bacon double cheeseburger, a hand settled onto his shoulder. It belonged to Artie Hanson from the auto shop.
“Brought the keys to your truck.” He dropped them onto the table in front of Travis’s plate, axle grease ground into every crack and wrinkle of his clean hands. “It’s sitting in front of the shop.”
Travis had phoned Artie to make sure the mechanic could finish the work by tonight so he’d be spared the ride home with Cindy. He liked to be independent.
Travis swallowed. “That’s great, man. Thanks.” He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Artie waved it away. “Boss lets me off duty on Friday nights.” The man laughed. An inside joke. He owned the shop. He could set his own hours. “You going to be in town on the weekend? Stop in and settle the bill then. Or on Monday.”
Artie clapped his back and walked away.
“Is he always so trusting?”
“Most people in this town are.” Cindy’s tone was only half admiring. The other half sounded resentful to Travis’s ear, but he wasn’t about to ask why.
While he ate, his gaze roamed the bar. He stopped when he realized he was keeping an eye on Rachel.
She’s no concern of yours.
It seemed that the habit of caring for others, after years of taking care of Samantha, was ground into him. Quit it.
He’d finished his burger, wings and onion rings, all while Rachel’s steps slowed and her face grew paler.
Not your business, man. Let it go.
He couldn’t. He fought the urge to help. It didn’t matter. Guess he’d spent too many years taking care of his younger sister to see a woman go so far into a bad case of hurt without helping her. He had to do something.
He excused himself and walked to the bar where he squeezed in between two old guys drinking whiskey. Behind the bar, a beauty hustled to fill drink orders. This town sure had a lot of pretty women. A mass of curly blond hair flowed down the bartender’s back to her waist.
“Hey, you’re Travis, aren’t you?” she asked. Laughter lurked in her china-doll blue eyes. At his surprised look, she answered his unspoken question. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows your name by now. I’m Honey, by the way.”
Ah. The owner.
Friendly smile as well as pretty. Nice. He handed her a twenty. “Can I order a burger or something for Rachel? She needs a break.”
Honey’s gaze sought out Rachel. Her lips compressed.
“She still hasn’t stopped? Honestly, that girl. Talk about being stubborn.” Honey removed a towel from her shoulder and tossed it onto the bar. “I told her to take a break well over an hour ago. If she’s not careful, she’ll hurt my future godchild.”
While Travis went back to the table, she slipped from behind the bar into the back hallway.
“Honey’s gone to get Rachel some food,” he told Cindy. He figured he should explain why he’d left.
Cindy cocked her head to one side. “You’re a nice man, aren’t you? That was a real kind thing to do.”
Since he’d told her it was good to be out with a pretty woman, Cindy’s mood had mellowed some. The second gin and tonic helped, too.
A guy got up from the bar and walked behind to pull mugs of draft and fill orders while Honey was gone.
“Who’s that customer who’s serving drinks now?” he asked Cindy.
She checked out the bar. “Cole Payette. He likes to help Honey sometimes.”
“I hope I didn’t get Rachel into trouble with her boss.” He finished his beer.
“Honey’s her friend,” Cindy said. “She won’t fire Rachel.”
A few minutes later, Honey returned to the big room with an order of chicken fingers and fries and handed them to Rachel. She pointed to Travis, probably telling Rachel who’d paid for them.
Rachel shot him a look full of brimstone. Oh, shit. Clasping her hands behind her back, she refused to take the plate from Honey. The gesture made her stomach stick out a mile.
She stormed over to their table. “I don’t know why you think you can tell me when I should be eating. I can figure out my own breaks.”
“Sorry, I—”
“Of all the paternalistic, presumptuous things to do. I don’t need your charity. Go buy dinner for someone else.”
He shot his hands in front of himself, palms out. “I didn’t mean to offend,” he said. “You’re looking more exhausted with every step. Considering how early it was when I saw you at the carousel this morning, you’ve put in a long day already and this bar doesn’t close for another few hours.”
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Mary Sullivan
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: TEMPTED BY A FAMILY…Travis Read never wanted to settle down anywhere—with anyone. He’s in Rodeo, Montana, just long enough to fix up a house for his sister and he’ll be on his way. Then he meets Rachel McGuire. Beautiful and kind—and with magnetic whiskey-colored eyes—Rachel is everything that Travis could want. Except that Rachel is also very, very pregnant.A struggling widowed mom, Rachel wants to give her family the stability she’s never had. Travis dashed those hopes by buying her dream house. Okay, she can start over. But she wasn’t counting on such a fierce attraction between them. And this cowboy was never meant to settle down…