Colton: Rodeo Cowboy
C.J. Carmichael
A Change Of HartAfter years of tearing up the rodeo circuit—and shirking his family duties—Colton Hart shouldn’t be surprised that his return to Thunder Ranch has been a bit thorny. His plan to put the Harts' prize stallion, Midnight, back into dangerous rodeo competition doesn’t help.Colt’s stirring up trouble off the ranch as well, especially in Leah Stockton’s heart. Recently divorced, Leah is determined to make a new life for her two kids. The last thing she needs is a man who acts like a child himself. And Leah doesn’t even know about the biggest mistake of Colt’s life.When his shameful secret is revealed, she'll never look at him the same way again. But Colt also realizes it’s past time he acts like the man Leah deserves…whether she wants him or not.
A Change Of Hart
After years of tearing up the rodeo circuit—and shirking his family duties—Colton Hart shouldn’t be surprised that his return to Thunder Ranch has been a bit thorny. His plan to put the Harts’ prize stallion, Midnight, back into dangerous rodeo competition doesn’t help.
Colt’s stirring up trouble off the ranch as well, especially in Leah Stockton’s heart. Recently divorced, Leah is determined to make a new life for her two kids. The last thing she needs is a man who acts like a child himself.
And Leah doesn’t even know about the biggest mistake of Colt’s life. When his shameful secret is revealed, she’ll never look at him the same again. But Colt also realizes it’s past time he acts like the man Leah deserves…whether she wants him or not.
Leah touched Colt’s arm, under the guise of checking out the soft chambray fabric of his shirt
But really it was the rock-hard muscles of the man who was wearing the shirt that impressed her.
Colt sandwiched her hand with his. “That feels nice. Your hand on my arm.”
She had to admit it did. More than just nice. Colt was different than she remembered and not just in appearance. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had gone through some hard times and matured these past few years.
“Leah—I just want to be real clear on one point. You’re not married anymore, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Good. I’ve never kissed a married woman before, and I was hoping this wasn’t going to be the exception.”
Dear Reader,
If I could wish one thing for you as you read this book it would be that you get swept away. Swept away by Colt Hart, the rodeo cowboy who’s been carrying a secret so long that the weight of it is crushing his heart. Swept away by Leah Stockton—a single mom doing her best in trying circumstances, who doesn’t need the complication of falling for another cowboy wedded to the road. Or even swept away by Midnight, the stallion the Hart family acquired in a heated bidding war in book one of the series, who may not be worth all the money they paid for him, after all. As the author, I have been enthralled by all of it—the whole world of the Harts of the Rodeo series.
This book was such a pleasure to write, and I want to thank Senior Editor Kathleen Scheibling for creating the Hart family and for setting the story in the most perfect ranching town possible: Roundup, Montana. Thanks also to my editor, Johanna Raisanen, for believing in me and inviting me to contribute to this series. And mega thanks to the other talented authors who also contributed stories. It was so much fun building the world of the Hart family with Cathy McDavid, Roz Denny Fox, Shelley Galloway, Marin Thomas and Linda Warren.
Maybe when you’ve finished this story you’d like to know more about how I developed the characters for this book. If so, please visit my website—www.cjcarmichael.com (http://www.cjcarmichael.com)—where I’ll be posting bonus information about Colt and Leah, as well as contests to win copies from my backlist. You can also keep the dialogue alive by visiting my Facebook page or following me on Twitter. I’d love to hear your feedback about this story.
And finally, don’t forget that the Hart family saga continues next month with Roz Denny Fox’s Duke: Deputy Cowboy.
Happy reading!
C.J. Carmichael
www.cjcarmichael.com (http://www.cjcarmichael.com)
Colton: Rodeo Cowboy
C.J. Carmichael
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double-entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty-eight novels for Harlequin Books, and invites you to learn more about her books, see photos of her hiking exploits and enter her surprise contests at www.cjcarmichael.com (http://www.cjcarmichael.com).
For Natalie and Caroline with love
Thanks to
The mastermind behind the Hart family series: Senior Editor Kathleen Scheibling;
My own amazing editor, Johanna Raisanen;
And the creative and talented Cathy McDavid, Roz Denny Fox, Shelley Galloway, Marin Thomas and Linda Warren.
Contents
Chapter One (#u9d6eb08a-3975-52b7-af68-f93c69876542)
Chapter Two (#u0989efba-6473-57ea-b6a7-375a8586978f)
Chapter Three (#ue11af711-7387-52e7-8829-d1b4a7e3a80d)
Chapter Four (#u1649101d-528f-56ed-909e-c94301db8101)
Chapter Five (#u67998499-d0d6-5af9-9c59-d9cdfe10aa94)
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)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Clouds were rolling over the hot afternoon sun as an exhausted Colton Hart pulled up to Thunder Ranch in his brand-new Dodge Ram truck with his weathered 22-foot Airstream in tow. A big party was going on at the Hart ranch house this evening, and Colt was late. Not just a few minutes late, but hours. And it wasn’t just any party, but a wedding celebration.
His older brother, Ace, had married local ranching girl Flynn McKinley that afternoon. They were madly in love and already expecting a baby. Well on their way to having a perfect life. Something Colt—despite all the rodeo buckles he kept winning—would never have.
He should have cut out early from the rodeo in Central Point and been here. He knew that. The five thousand dollars he’d won simply wasn’t worth the price—though he did need that money in his checking account before the first of the month. No running from that cold, hard fact.
Of course the hour delay due to construction on I-90 hadn’t helped.
Colt parked the new truck in the lot his mother had given him, about three hundred feet west of the homestead property. He didn’t bother unhooking the trailer or reconnecting the water and power. No time.
Inside his trailer, he tossed his dead cell phone on the counter, then added his latest buckle to the collection in his bottom bureau drawer. He’d been gone so much lately the calendar taped to the mirror was still on March. He tore off a couple sheets, then pulled the truck keys from his pocket.
Early that spring he’d won the use of the fully loaded 2012 Dodge Ram for an entire year. He’d never driven, let alone owned, a brand-new vehicle before. The luxury was in danger of becoming addicting. He just might have to buy out the lease at the end of this year—if he could afford to.
He took a few steps to the kitchen, where he ducked his head over the sink and splashed water from a plastic jug over his unshaven face. God, but he’d love a shower. Instead, he made due with a change of clothes, clean Wranglers from his closet and his trademark red chambray shirt.
Colt put on his hat, then stepped out of his trailer into the muggy heat, the heel of his boot sinking into the pine-needle-packed earth. The air was rich with the scent of growing things, tinged with the hickory flavor of his mom’s famous barbecue beef. Clouds continued to gather and from the far-off distance, he heard the muffled sound of thunder. It had been a wet spring, now it looked like more rain was coming. Hopefully the storm would hold out a little longer. A path led through the Engelmann spruce toward the main house and he followed the well-trod route, ribs complaining with each breath, muscles everywhere sore and achy.
He lived for the thrill of competing in the rodeo arena, but he had to admit the sport was hell on his body.
The path ended at a fork. Ranch house to the left. Barns and various other outbuildings to the right. Royce, a long-time ranch hand in his sixties, was sitting at one of the picnic tables that the hired help used for breaks, having a smoke.
“Party going on at the main house,” Royce said.
“I know.”
“They were expectin’ you hours ago.”
“I know.”
Royce turned his head, took another pull on his cigarette.
Colt waited a second longer. It would only be courteous of Royce to ask how things had gone in Oregon, but Royce didn’t say a word. Probably pissed off, like Ace, that Colt wasn’t around more to help out at the ranch. But he had financial obligations none of them knew about, and he had to earn extra money somehow.
Colt continued on his way, coming around the back of the house where sparkly lights framed the outdoor pool and the large flagstone sitting area. Outdoor speakers were playing Lady Antebellum’s hit song—something about a kiss—while Ace and Flynn fed each other pieces from the wedding cake.
They looked good together. Happy. In love.
Captivated by the sight, Colt watched them for several long moments, before he had to turn away. He felt as if he’d landed facedown in the rodeo arena: throat choked, eyes watering. He couldn’t say why their happiness moved him so much. He wasn’t one for tears. Or so he’d thought.
He switched his attention to the rest of the family. His mom and Uncle Josh sat at the head table with Josh’s sons, Beau and Duke, and Colt’s sister, Dinah. Missing was younger brother, Tuf, in limbo after serving in the marines. Wouldn’t it have been great if Tuf had somehow shown up for the wedding? No one would have paid Colt much mind if his younger brother had finally returned home.
Colt stepped out of the shadows just as the clouds decided to dump buckets of water onto the scene. No mere shower—this was a deluge. Holding his hat with one hand, shielding his eyes with the other, he dashed with the others toward the open doors that led inside.
He noticed Ace grab Flynn’s hand.
“Where are we going?” she gasped.
“To the barn.”
Strange choice, Colt thought. But Flynn started laughing and the two of them, so crazy-in-love Colt supposed they were beyond logic, dashed off for the stables. At least this way he wouldn’t have to face his brother right away. He knew his excuses for missing the wedding were going to sound mighty lame. Maybe it would be better if Ace didn’t have to hear them until after his honeymoon.
He grabbed what remained of the wedding cake from the table and stepped into the house. Next thing Colt knew, he was face-to-face with his mother.
“Well. Look what the storm blew in.”
His mom brushed back a strand of her dampened, silver hair. When had the color changed? He couldn’t remember, but it had been a long time ago. Worries had come early to Sarah Hart’s life. A rancher’s life was not an easy one and his father’s premature death had placed most of the pressure directly on her shoulders.
Apparently, the stress had been hard on her heart, too. About a month ago she’d had a scare that had sent her to the hospital. Colt had been worried sick then, was still worried now. What would he do—what would any of them do—without their mother in their lives?
The very idea was unthinkable.
He wanted to hug her, and tell her how much she meant to him. But he’d screwed things up. Again. Her expression was as angry as he’d ever seen it.
“You missed your brother’s wedding.”
He had to look away from her piercing blue gaze. His relationship with Ace was a complicated thing. There was love, sure. But there was also something darker. Something Colt didn’t like thinking about, let alone discussing in the open. “He didn’t give me much notice.”
“Is that the best excuse you can come up with, Colton Adams Hart?”
Colt held his tongue, acutely aware of the others. The family room where they’d all rushed to escape the rain was large, but not so large that everyone couldn’t hear their conversation. Dinah grabbed the cake out of his hands, then shook her head as if to say, You’ve really done it this time, bro.
Cousins Duke and Beau were looking desperately in opposite directions, clearly wishing they were anyplace but here. While Uncle Josh seemed sad and disappointed, maybe the hardest reaction of all for Colt to deal with.
Dinah set down the cake then whirled on him. “You missed everything. Ace wanted you for best man, you know.”
Colt took a deep breath. No sense telling them about the construction delays. Or the meeting that had run late, but would hopefully lead to a lucrative deal for their new bucking stock program. At this point anything he said would just sound like an excuse.
He glanced at his sister, then back to his mother. “Well, clearly I’m not wanted here. If anything comes up, you can try the Open Range Saloon.”
“Colt!” Dinah was incredulous. “You wouldn’t dare run out on us now. You just got here.”
“Yeah? Watch me.” No one called out his name a second time, least of all his mother. Not that he expected anyone to. He’d left too much to chance, given himself no cushion for the unexpected. But contingency planning had never been his strong suit.
* * *
LEAH STOCKTON couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a bar alone. Certainly before the kids. Probably before her marriage, too. She looked at her finger, where once she’d worn a thin band of gold embedded with chip diamonds. That finger had been bare for more than a year now.
And still her mother refused to accept the divorce.
“I’ll have another, Ted.” Leah held up her glass to the bartender. He’d owned the Open Range Saloon for as long as she’d been old enough to drink here and he had a disconcerting way of looking at his patrons when he figured they ought to consider slowing down on the alcoholic intake.
Ted was giving her that look now.
“What? This is only my third beer.”
“And you weigh all of what—a hundred and ten pounds?”
“It’s called being willowy, thank you very much. And it doesn’t mean I can’t hold my alcohol—though if it eases your conscience, I didn’t drive. I’ll be walking home.”
If she went back.
Silly thought. Of course she’d be going back. Her children were her life now and she was determined to put them first. She just needed a breather for a few hours, that was all. Fortunately they’d already been asleep when she and her mother had their fight. And she’d kept a cool enough head not to slam the door on her way out at the end of it.
Thankfully tomorrow the house she’d rented would be ready for her and the kids to move into. With any luck once they were no longer under the same roof, she and her mom would find it easier to get along.
Ted popped the lid off a bottle of Big Sky and replaced her empty with the full one. She took a long swallow, just daring him to make another comment. But when she glanced at him again, he was looking at someone behind her.
Next thing she knew that someone was setting three darts on the bar next to her glass. The hand holding them was masculine. And his shirt sleeve was red.
A long-ago memory surfaced, of a man who had favored red chambray shirts. Her heart started beating faster—she just couldn’t help it. Subtly, she tilted her head so she could check him out.
Tousled sandy hair, nice face, mouth with that adorable, kissable quality that she knew got him into so much trouble. But not with her.
“Well, well, well. Colton Hart. It’s been a while.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “Indeed it has, Miss Barrel Racing Champion of Roundup High School.”
She choked back her smile. Those days seemed so long ago now. “Hardly the highlight of my barrel racing career. I have won a few championships since then.”
“I know you have. I was there for a couple. Let me see…” He seated himself on the stool next to hers and she couldn’t help noticing the breadth of his shoulders, the girth of his biceps. The boy had manned up in the years she’d seen him. And how. Or did she mean wow?
Colt didn’t seem to notice her checking him out. His mind was still on rodeos, trying to recall when he’d last seen her. Finally he snapped his fingers. “The Pace Challenge in Omaha back in 2004.”
She nodded. “I came in first. And you won best all-around.”
He shrugged off his own accomplishment. “You did well at the Snake River Stampede in Nampa, too, as I recall. Was that 2005?”
“Actually, 2006.”
“And…that’s about the last I remember seeing you.” He gave her a steady, serious look. “Rumor had it you met a fellow from Calgary at the Stampede.”
She took another long drink of her beer, while he watched thoughtfully.
“But we don’t want to talk about that, I’m guessing?”
“You guess correctly.”
“So.” He tapped the darts he’d placed on the counter. “You game?”
She so was. But strategy dictated she not let him know this. “Why bother? I always beat you.”
“Really? Is that how you remember it?” He picked up her half-empty beer and downed the remainder. Then he signaled to the bartender, who’d been listening into their exchange while polishing already-clean glasses. “Ted, we’ll need two more of these.”
“With a whiskey chaser,” Leah added, before Colt escorted her to the dartboard at the back of the bar.
They passed by a table with some people Colt knew, a mixture of guys and women about their age. Leah didn’t recognize any faces, but they sure knew Colt.
“Hey, buddy, come and join us,” said a dark-haired cowboy, with a nose that had once been very badly broken. “Bring your pretty new friend, too.”
Colt waved him off. “Another night, Darcy. Leah and me—we’ve got business to attend to.”
Everyone at the table hooted at that and Leah could feel herself blushing as a result. What was up with that? She was not the sort of woman who blushed—was she? But then, it had been a long time since she’d been the focus of this sort of attention. When you normally had a toddler and a preschooler in tow, men tended to keep a polite distance.
The dartboard was at the back of the bar. A throwing line had been etched onto the wooden floor a little less than eight feet away from the board. Colt placed the darts on a nearby table, and they were soon joined by the beer and shooters that they’d ordered.
He took a long drink of the ale then handed her a dart. “Ladies first. Want to play down from 501?”
“Make it 301.” Leah removed her light sweater and hung it carefully on the back of her stool. Then she studied the board, trying to decide what strategy to use. In her younger, rodeoing years, she’d spent so much time in bars that she’d been damn near perfect at this game. But now she figured she’d be lucky to hit the bull’s-eye. So she took aim, threw…and missed her target by a fraction of an inch. Just enough for the dart to hit a wire and bounce, uselessly, to the floor.
“Out of practice?” Colt asked, his voice all innocent concern.
At a lot of things, Leah thought. Not the least of which was hanging out with an attractive man who was focusing all his attention on her. Not that Colt was hitting on her, or anything. They’d been friends too long for that. But there was a light in his eyes that told her he found her desirable. And that was more than a little distracting for a woman who had spent the past five years mashing baby food and changing diapers.
The kids were past that stage now, thankfully. But looking after them still took the majority of her time.
“So what brings you back to Roundup? Visiting your mom?” Colt took the next dart and went to line up.
He couldn’t know how good he looked, standing there. No man wore a pair of Wranglers quite like Colt. How was she supposed to concentrate on their conversation?
Focus, Leah.
“I’m, uh, not visiting. I’ve moved here. Planning to start my own business.”
He’d raised his arm to throw the dart, but went still at her news. “Really?”
“Yes. I’ve been staying at Mom’s for the past few weeks, but tomorrow I move into a house I rented on Timberline Drive.”
“Timberline Drive…” A slight frown appeared on his brow. “Is that off Mine Road, near the river?”
“That’s it. I got a great deal on the rent. Thankfully it’s a lot cheaper to live here than it was in Calgary.” She took a drink as Colt turned to the board and threw his dart. Damn thing landed in the outer bull. Clearly Colt wasn’t out of practice.
“Nice shot.” She tried not to sound grudging.
“By the way, I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to tell you I was sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”
“Thank you.” She appreciated Colt’s condolences even though more than five years had gone by. The heart attack had been unexpected, but according to the family doctor, at least her father’s death had been quick, without time for suffering. After, Leah’s mother hadn’t had the grit—or the family support—to carry on ranching the way Colt’s mother, Sarah Hart, had done after Colt’s father’s death ten years ago. Prue Stockton had sold their small property within six months, along with the cattle and the few horses they still had around the place—which included Country Girl, Leah’s old barrel racing horse.
Leah picked up her second dart. Focusing on the task at hand was what won her prize money when she competed at rodeos. Now she stared at the dartboard with the same intensity, blanking out the bar, the noise, Colt’s presence…
To hell with the bull’s-eye. She aimed for the sweet spot in the twentieth section, and let out a whoop when her dart landed perfectly in the thin inner portion between the red and green circles.
Colt raised his glass, toasting her success. She joined him at the table, touching her bottle to his, basking in the warmth of his smile. He seemed genuinely glad that she’d done well. Colt wasn’t one of those guys who hated losing to a woman. He wasn’t a bad loser, period. She’d never seen him so much as throw his hat into the dirt after a bad ride on a bunking bronc.
“Maybe I should concede, after all,” he said.
Not at all sure how she would follow up that last, lucky throw, she was quick to agree. “Let’s just talk for a while.” She took a swallow of beer. “What have you been up to in the last six years?”
“It’s been sort of a blur,” he admitted. “A lot of time on the road, traveling from rodeo to rodeo.”
“Had much success?”
“A little.”
She knew what a talented athlete he was in the rodeo arena, yet he wasn’t bragging. “Come on. You’ve finalled in the NFR about eight years straight, haven’t you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but I still don’t have a world championship. Sometimes I wonder if I just don’t want it bad enough.”
His answer surprised her. The Colt she remembered from high school and the rodeo arena didn’t spend a lot of time on introspection. “Rodeo life isn’t easy. Maybe you’re tired.”
He forced a smile. “I can’t afford to be. Those purses pay my bills.”
“But you work on Thunder Ranch as well, don’t you?” And surely his mother paid him a salary for that.
“Not as much as my family would like. But enough about me.” He touched the sleeve of her shirt. “I see you still favor purple.”
“Lavender,” she corrected, pleased that he’d remembered her rodeo colors. She’d packed away the purple cowboy boots and hat, but she still liked to wear her Western shirts.
“It’s a good shade for you. Not quite the same color as your eyes. But it makes them stand out, all the same.”
Leah had been fed glib lines about her eyes before. Lots of times. But Colt’s comment didn’t sound superficial. And there was nothing trite about the way he was smiling at her, in a soft and wondering way.
Possibly there were depths to this cowboy that she hadn’t appreciated in the past. “And you still favor red.” She touched his arm this time, under the guise of checking out the soft, chambray fabric. But really it was the rock-hard muscles of the male who was wearing the shirt that impressed her.
Colt sandwiched her hand with his. “That feels nice. Your hand on my arm.”
She had to admit it did. More than just nice. Colt was different than she remembered and not just in appearance. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had gone through some hard times and matured these past few years.
“Leah—I just want to be real clear on one point. You’re not married anymore, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Good. I’ve never kissed a married woman before and I was hoping this wasn’t going to be the exception.”
Chapter Two
Colt didn’t make a habit of kissing women in public places, either. Generally, he was pretty circumspect when it came to matters of the libido. But this was different. Leah Stockton was different. How could you fall in love at first sight with someone you’d known all your life?
But the pretty woman sitting at the bar had caught his eye as soon as he walked into the Open Range Saloon. Her long dark hair and tall, slim body were part of the appeal, but even more was the way she sat on her stool, with saddle-perfect posture, her body relaxed and yet confident and poised for action.
He’d headed straight for her. And then he’d heard her voice as she spoke to the bartender and he’d stopped to listen.
He knew her.
A few seconds later, he had the darts in his hand, ready to issue his challenge. But it wasn’t until she looked him in the eyes that it really hit him.
Holy shit, she was a stunner. He’d known Leah since they were kids and yet, somehow, this truth had never sunk in before. Or maybe the passing years had changed her in some subtle, yet earth-shattering way.
Just five minutes into their conversation, it occurred to him that Leah might be the answer to a question he hadn’t been smart enough to ask yet. Being unfocused and aimless in your twenties wasn’t such a bad thing. Once you hit thirty, though, your sense of time shifted.
Years went by faster.
You understood that opportunities were either seized, or rarely encountered again.
He wanted to seize. And Leah’s eyes told him she was willing. As he leaned toward her, she met him halfway, and when their mouths connected, he stopped thinking, because everything felt so natural and right. This woman made him melt and burn at the same time, and his body felt stirred with a primal, yet mind-
blowing intensity.
“We have to leave,” he told her.
“Yes.”
He left money on the table, next to the drinks they hadn’t quite finished. If any of his friends were watching, no one was foolish enough to say anything to him. He felt as if he would have to punch anyone who caused them even a second’s delay in getting out of there.
The night air was cool and refreshing after the rain, but it didn’t dampen in the slightest his desire to take this woman someplace quiet and private. Leah stumbled slightly as they crossed the street, and he pulled her up closer beside him. Thank God this was Roundup, and there was no traffic, because he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again, right there, in the middle of the street.
Her slender body formed perfectly against his bigger, harder one. He felt her fingers in his hair, her breath on his mouth. He filled his own hands with the curves of her butt, pulling her closer, nuzzling her neck, her collarbone, the silky lobe of her ear.
“Where?” Even his whisper came out sounding hoarse.
“I don’t know.”
“Can I take you back to my trailer?”
Her lips were against his ear now and he could hear her sigh. “I wish—but no. That won’t work.”
“Then…?” His mind raced as he tried to think of a suitable place to make love with this beautiful woman. But before he could come up with a solution, she was sighing again.
“You’d better walk me home, Colt. To my mother’s place.”
Not the answer he’d been hoping for. But maybe, if they were quiet, they could sneak into Leah’s bedroom without waking Prue Stockton. Leah was an adult, after all, and he was someone she’d known most of her life.
Leah slipped out of his arms, turned, then stumbled again. “Oops!”
Her giggle was infectious and he had to smile, too, even as he wondered just how much she’d had to drink before he’d shown up at the bar. “Careful, darlin’. Here, let me help you.”
He asked for her mother’s address, then hand-in-hand they walked the four blocks. He savored each moment with her, his heart full-to-bursting with an emotion he’d never experienced before. He could feel the smile on his face getting bigger each time he looked at her. Even tipsy, Leah had a confident, athletic gait. At the same time she was undeniably female….
“Here we are.” Leah stopped at a Victorian-styled two-story several blocks south of the high school. The house was dark, except for a small exterior lantern to the side of the front door. Two vehicles were parked under the carport to the left of the house—a modest sedan and a Ford truck. The back of the truck was loaded with furniture and boxes.
“The truck yours?”
“You bet.”
“Nice.” He’d never dated a woman who drove a truck before. Seemed like another good sign to him. He held Leah’s hand as they climbed the steps up the porch, then waited as she opened the unlocked front door.
She gave him a smile. “Good night, Colt.”
“To hell with that.” He pulled her in for another kiss, savoring the softness of her lips, the sweet scent of her hair. Cupping the sides of her face, he pressed the tip of her nose to his. “How about inviting me in, darlin’? I’ll make pancakes for your mama in the morning. Win her over with my charm.”
This didn’t elicit the smile he expected. Instead, Leah frowned. “Those would have to be mighty special pancakes, Colt. My mom doesn’t impress easily. Besides, it would be too confusing for Jill and Davey. I haven’t dated anyone since I divorced their father.”
Suddenly dizzy, Colt put a hand to the wooden railing by the door. “Jill and Davey?”
“My children.” Leah looked at him as if he had a screw loose. “You knew about them, right?”
Bloody hell didn’t. Colt opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “How old are they?”
“Davey is two, Jill five.”
Leah crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. Colt knew his reaction was upsetting her, yet he couldn’t seem to get his breathing under control or his mind to work properly. He was just so blown away by all of this. How was it that no one—not a family member, or a friend—had mentioned that Leah Stockton had children?
“You’re doing the math, aren’t you?” Leah finally said. “But I’m not ashamed of the fact that I married Jackson because I was pregnant. It was the right thing to do. As it turned out, we couldn’t make the relationship work, but at least I tried.”
Oh, God. Stop talking, Leah. He didn’t want to hear this. Not any of it.
“You’re right. Pancakes were a very bad idea.” He took a step away from the door, away from her.
“Colt?”
“I should get going.” The chill in the air cut through his shirt and the night sky seemed very bleak all of a sudden.
“You’re leaving? Just like that?”
He took another step away. Dinah had said something similar to him, only that afternoon. Badly timed exits were becoming something of a pattern in his life. Colt raised his hat to Leah. In the cold light of day she would be grateful the evening had ended this way.
* * *
“I WISH YOU WEREN’T so set on moving out.” Prue Stockton, in a pressed housedress with her hair neatly combed, stood at the kitchen counter, dipping homemade bread into her own special egg concoction for French toast.
The sight reminded Leah of Colt’s pancake offer of the previous night. An offer he’d backed away from promptly, when he heard about her kids.
Leah took a mug from the counter, filled it with water, which she forced herself to drink, then refilled it with coffee from the carafe on the counter. She didn’t begrudge the pain pulsing in her skull—it seemed fair retribution for the mistakes she’d made last night.
Getting tipsy at the Open Range Saloon and picking up a cowboy was not acceptable behavior for the mother of two small children. She was just thankful that her mother knew none of this.
“I’m thirty-two years old. Don’t you think that’s too old to be living with my mother?”
“Living with your husband is where you ought to be.” Her mom shot her a hard look, then returned her focus to her cooking. “But let’s not get into that argument again.”
“Let’s not,” Leah agreed. They had other things to fight about today. Starting with the house she’d rented.
“It won’t be easy raising two children on your own. And I have lots of room here.”
“I’ve already signed a one-year lease, Mom, so I’m committed.” Leah opened the dishwasher, intending to unload the dinner dishes from yesterday, but her mother had beaten her to it. She decided to set the breakfast table instead.
“Think of the money you could have saved.”
Her mother was nothing if not persistent.
“I’m okay for money, Mom. Jackson and I had quite a bit of equity in the house we sold in Calgary.” Leah set out the blue-and-white dishes that had been in her family for as long as she could remember. “He’s making monthly support payments for the kids, and once I get a few bookkeeping clients, I’ll be fine.”
“What are you going to do for furniture?”
Leah had brought the kids’ beds and all their toys from Calgary. Added to that their clothing and other personal effects, she hadn’t had room in the back of her truck for anything else.
She knew her mother had some of the furniture from the old guesthouse on the farm stored in her basement. At one time her grandmother had lived in the small cottage. After she passed on, her mother used the extra room for putting up guests and the occasional farmhand her dad hired during seeding and harvest times.
“I was wondering if I could borrow the bed and sofa from our old guesthouse?”
She half expected her mother to say no. But Prue Stockton wasn’t a mean woman. “You may have them, Leah, if you’re truly set on moving out. There’s a rattan table and four chairs that you’re welcome to as well.”
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”
Prue sighed. “Better wake the children. Breakfast is just about ready.”
Leah headed for the stairs to do as told. Her mother was right about one thing. She did have lots of room in this house. There were four bedrooms and a large bathroom on the upper story. Leah thought it was strange that her mother had moved into such a large place. But maybe a smaller bungalow had been too much of a shock after the sprawling farmhouse Prue had managed for almost thirty years.
Upstairs, Leah peered into the first door on the left, and wasn’t surprised to find Jill’s bed empty. She found the little girl in her brother’s room. She and Davey were sleeping side by side in the single bed, snuggly enclosed by the safety bars that Leah had brought from home.
Leah could never wake her children without first taking a moment to appreciate their sweet little faces in repose. They both had her dark hair and long, thick eyelashes. After a long, cold winter in Calgary, their skin was pale and she looked forward to getting them out for lots of sun and play in their new home. She stroked the side of Jill’s face, and her daughter’s eyes immediately sprang open.
“Why are you sleeping in here again, honey?”
“Davey had another nightmare.”
Leah didn’t know why Jill didn’t want to own up to the bad dreams. Nor did she understand why Jill chose to go to her brother for comfort, instead of her mom. But she felt it was wise to simply take Jill’s answers at face value for now.
“You’re a nice sister to take such good care of your brother. Now, why don’t you run to the washroom and clean your hands? Grandma’s making your favorite breakfast.”
“French toast? Yay!” Jill sprang out of the bed, jumping over the safety barrier with the ease of a natural athlete. Given that both her parents had been pros in the rodeo circuit, Leah supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.
“Toast?” Davey pushed his head up from the pillow then lifted his butt in the air—a maneuver that looked like a modified child’s pose in yoga. “I want fwench toast, Mommy.”
Though he was almost three, Davey’s speech wasn’t very advanced. He spoke in short sentences at best and had trouble with his rs. Leah wasn’t worried…yet. She figured the divorce and the recent move to Montana might be part of the problem. In time, she hoped Davey would catch up to the verbal ability of his peers.
“Let’s go to the bathroom first, honey.” He’d only been weaned from his bedtime diaper a few months ago. She’d expected he might regress after the move, but luckily he hadn’t.
Five minutes later both children were washed and sitting at the breakfast table. Leah knew her mother would prefer that the children were properly dressed, as well, but she was too much the doting grandmother to insist on it.
As she watched the children tuck in to their food, Leah couldn’t help but think of Colt again. She felt like such a fool for falling all over him last night. She’d actually thought she saw layers of depth in Colt that she’d never seen before. She should have known he wasn’t serious, that he was just messing with her.
He’d stopped the charade fast enough when he found out she was a mother. She still wasn’t sure what he’d objected to most. The fact that she’d “had” to get married because she was pregnant? Or just the fact that she had kids, and so had responsibilities that he didn’t.
At any rate, it was good that he’d revealed his true colors so quickly. Getting involved with a self-absorbed cowboy was one mistake she didn’t intend to repeat.
* * *
COLT WAS UP BEFORE dawn on Sunday morning, hauling oats and hay into the feeders, ignoring the protests of his rodeo-weary body. Pulled muscles and bruises, sprains and broken bones, came with the territory. Most cowboys worked despite their injuries. He had ridden with bruised ribs, sprained fingers, even a mild concussion, once.
He didn’t mind physical pain. On some level he welcomed it.
He’d hardly slept last night after leaving Leah. He’d behaved badly at the end and he knew it. But he’d been so damn disappointed. They could have been good together. If only he’d recognized that years ago, before she married another man—before she had children….
The sun was creeping up on the eastern horizon when one of the ranch hands came out to join him. Darrell was in his mid-forties, a steady family man who had been working at the ranch for as long as Colt could remember. Like Royce, Darrell was a man of few words. Most wranglers were.
“You’re out early.” Darrell glanced at the feeders. “Looks like you’ve done my work for me.”
Colt removed his leather work gloves and flexed his fingers. “I guess there’s more than enough to go around. Or so my brother is always telling me.”
“Ace works damn hard,” Darrell conceded. “That new stallion isn’t helping matters much.”
“Midnight?” The black-as-coal recent addition to their breeding stock program was a worry, all right. The family had paid a lot of money at auction for the stallion—the price driven up in a testosterone-fueled bidding war with their neighbor, Earl McKinley.
“Ace has pumped a hell of a lot of time, not just money, into that animal.”
“He’s been a good breeder out in the field, though, right?”
Darrell nodded. “Yeah, but we need to be able to breed him in a controlled environment. And Midnight still won’t stand for that.”
Colt nodded thoughtfully. “Think I’ll go pay my respects. Maybe give Midnight his workout for the day.”
“Good idea. Gracie usually does that, but this is her day off.” Darrell gave him a nod, then headed toward the new mares’ barn to continue with his chores.
The morning sun was bathing the ranch in gold as Colt made his way to Midnight’s stud quarters. Colt was on the road a lot, but usually that only made him appreciate his home all the more when he returned. Late spring was a beautiful time of year with the trees in full leaf, and the grass thick and green. Colt inhaled deeply. Nothing finer than the pure air that blew off the Bull Mountains. He knew he was damn lucky to call Montana home.
If only he could find the inner peace to match his surroundings…
He found Midnight at the far end of his paddock, nuzzling his favorite mare, Fancy Gal. They sure made an odd-looking couple—the pregnant dun mare and the majestic black stallion. Come next spring, it was going to be interesting to see what their foal looked like.
Colt climbed over the fence and paused to see how Midnight would react. The stallion shook his mane and pranced backward a few steps. Colt had to admit that all of Ace’s doctoring was paying off. The stallion’s coat was glossy and thick, and he’d lost that wild look that spoke of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the damned foreman who’d been hired by Midnight’s previous owners.
“Hey, boy. How’s it going?” Colt moved slowly toward the horse. He supposed Midnight was on break from his stud duties while Ace was on his honeymoon. “Feel like stretching out those long legs of yours today?”
Midnight jerked his head upright as Colt approached, and laid his ears back.
“It’s okay, boy. No one’s going to hurt you here on Thunder Ranch. You’ve figured that out by now, haven’t you?” From the pocket of his denim jacket, he pulled out one of Angie Barrington’s special horse cookies. Along with carrots they were Midnight’s favorite treat.
Cautiously Midnight accepted the goody, then backed right off again.
“You miss Gracie, don’t you, boy? Well, don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He kept talking as he moved closer, angling the horse toward the gate that led to the dirt-packed, round arena they used for exercising and training young horses.
Midnight was no fool. He knew where Colt wanted him to go. Yet he resisted. Why? Colt wondered. He studied the horse’s dark eyes, trying to understand what was going on in his head.
Eventually Colt coaxed the stallion into the arena where he used hand gestures and encouraging words to get Midnight to run laps around the perimeter of the fence. A few times Midnight seemed to get into it, but then he would fall back and give Colt a resigned look as if to say, This is it? This is the most excitement you can give me?
“Not too enthusiastic, is he?”
Colt started at the sound of his mother’s voice. He turned around and saw her leaning against the fence, one booted foot on the lower rung. She was wearing an old corduroy coat she’d owned for ages and her cheeks were ruddy from the cool morning air.
“Sorry about yesterday, Mom.”
“It’s Ace and Flynn you need to apologize to.”
“I will. As soon as they’re back from their honeymoon.” He glanced back at Midnight, who had stopped running and was nibbling at the grass growing at the edge of the fence. “Has anyone tried riding him yet?”
His mother looked amused. “That horse was born to buck. I don’t think anyone would dare.”
“Well, maybe we should let him compete in rodeos again. He needs to get some exercise somehow. Loping around this arena just doesn’t cut it.”
“That would be pretty risky, don’t you think? What if he was injured?”
“You have a point,” Colt conceded. “Okay, boy.” He opened the gate to the pasture. “That’s enough for today.”
Midnight didn’t need to be invited twice. He trotted quickly out of the arena and rejoined his mare.
“By the way, son, was that a new truck I saw parked by your trailer?”
“Yeah. I won the use of it this spring, but only picked it up on my way to Oregon. It handles like a dream. I’m thinking of buying out the lease when the year is up.”
His mother said nothing to that. She never asked him what he did with his rodeo winnings and he never offered any information. But however you looked at it, the new truck was a luxury. One he could hardly afford. But he was thirty-two years old and lived in a trailer that was almost as old as he was.
And that new truck was so damn sweet…
“You’ll join Dinah and me for breakfast?” She dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she gave him a sideways glance. “And then to church, after?”
“Sorry, Mom. There’s something else I need to do.” Leah was on his mind. He’d behaved badly yesterday. No changing the past. But there was one thing he could do today to prove that he wasn’t a total jerk.
Chapter Three
Leah spent the morning cleaning her new house. Her mother alternated between helping and playing with the kids in their new backyard. With the river so close by, Leah wouldn’t have rented the place if it hadn’t been securely fenced. As a bonus, the yard had a built-in sandbox and swing set and a paved patio that was perfect for Davey to ride his plastic tractor on.
“The kitchen is sparkling,” Prue commented, as she grabbed a couple of juice boxes out of the fridge for the children. Earlier she’d helped Jill change into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt that matched. She was trying to wean her granddaughter from her penchant for wildly colorful, mismatched outfits. Leah wished her luck with that one.
“Thanks, Mom. It does look good, doesn’t it?”
“Have you tackled the basement yet?”
Leah wrinkled her nose. “No. It’s too big of a project. We’ll just use the main floor for now.” It would be squishy, though, as she’d hoped to put a playroom for the kids, as well as her office, down there. But both she and her mother had noticed a foul odor this morning when they checked the place over.
“Smells like mildew,” her mother had said. “I wish you’d told me you were thinking of renting this place. Houses this close to the river are prone to flooding.”
Oh, great. Just what she needed to hear. Now Leah knew why the rent had been such a great deal. At some point she would have to talk to her landlord about ripping out the carpet and scrubbing and repainting the walls. But until then the kids could share a room, and she’d use the main-floor bedroom for her office. All the toys were just going to have to go in the living room.
They’d get by.
Leah tossed the rag she’d used to wash the floor into a pail by the door. “I think we’re ready to move in now. I’ll unload the boxes from the truck if you don’t mind staying with the kids.”
“Actually, I think I should take them back to my place. Davey’s rubbing his eyes and there’s no place to put him down for his nap.”
She gave her mom a hug. “That would be perfect, thanks. We’ll have to transfer their booster seats into your car.”
“I can do that. You just keep on with what you’re doing.”
Prue made a game of it, telling Jill and Davey it was time to board the train back to grandma’s house. “Choo! Choo!” Davey called, as she buckled him into the backseat. Leah waved until they’d driven out of sight, a smile on her face. It was at moments like this that she knew she’d done the right thing in moving back to Roundup. Her mother was an awesome grandma.
And now she was free to get her work done.
Leah opened the tailgate to her truck, then reached for the closest box. Within an hour she had unloaded everything—even the kids’ beds and bureaus, which weren’t very heavy. Only the furniture in her mother’s basement remained. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. The fellow she’d hired to help her didn’t work on Sundays.
She was closing the tailgate when a black Dodge Ram pulled up across the street. She brushed her hands against her jeans and shook her head as Colt stepped out of the driver’s seat.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Just wondering if I could give you a hand?”
Gone was the sexy, flirty voice he’d used on her at the bar. Today he looked serious. Maybe even a little sheepish. He was in jeans and a clean work shirt. No red chambray today, thank goodness. He held his hat in his hands, his stance that of a little boy feeling guilty about something.
As he damn well should.
She wanted to tell him to go to hell. But after last night, he owed her. Besides, she had some business to discuss with Colt. Something she should have brought up yesterday if she hadn’t been having too much fun.
“That depends on how much time you’ve got.”
“As much as you need.”
Oh, she highly doubted that was true.
“There’s a bed, a sofa and a table-and-chair set back in Mom’s basement and I can’t move them myself….”
“I’d be glad to help. Let’s take my truck. It’s bigger.”
For the first time she noticed his vehicle. It was a newer model, with all the extras. “Sweet. Can I drive?”
She could have sworn his face grew paler. But he handed her the keys with only the slightest of hesitations, then opened the driver’s side door for her. When she was settled, he loped around the truck and slid into the seat next to her.
She was aware of his eyes on her as she made the necessary adjustments to the seat and the mirrors. Only when she was done did he ask, “So…how’s the head this morning?”
When she grimaced, he chuckled. “Thought so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You had a few too many. That’s all.”
She groaned. “Was it that obvious?”
He reached for her hair and gave a little tug. Just a playful gesture…so why did her heart do a little flip?
“Let’s just say you were a little unsteady on your feet. Also, let’s face it—if you hadn’t had a few beers, no way would you have let me kiss you.”
She turned her eyes briefly from the road to check his expression. Really? Was that the way he wanted to play this? Well, fine with her. “So true,” she said coolly. “But even single mothers need to have a little fun now and then.”
“I suppose that’s true,” he said, his voice suddenly tight.
“I wouldn’t want our foolishness last night to affect our friendship, Colt.”
“Foolishness?”
“Good,” she said, ignoring the question in his voice. “Glad we see it the same way.” She turned the corner to her mother’s block, then pulled up into the driveway. “Here we are. Hope you’re ready to work.”
* * *
LEAH HAD BRUSHED OFF their evening together as “foolishness.” Colt knew he should feel glad. He was off the hook and back in the sea—free and unencumbered, as always.
Maybe the gladness would come later, when the good news had a chance to sink in.
For now, he was satisfied to put his muscles to good use. The move didn’t take long. At one point Prue Stockton stepped out on the porch to watch for a few moments. Then she gave him a polite nod and went back inside with the kids.
As for Jill and Davey, he didn’t see any sign of them at all. Which he was grateful for. He had no experience with kids and had no idea what to do or say around them.
Within two hours all the work was done. Leah’s new house was okay, Colt thought. Kind of small, especially the kids’ bedroom. They’d barely managed to fit in the two beds, and had been forced to stuff the bureau into the small closet.
That stench coming from the basement wasn’t good, either. But Leah told him she was planning to talk to her landlord about tearing out the old carpet and painting the walls. Maybe he’d offer to help.
That was the sort of thing a friend would do, after all.
Friend. His mind grated over the word every time he thought of it in conjunction with Leah. Because she was just as attractive to him now as she’d been last night at the Open Range.
Get over it, he told himself. She’d offered him an olive branch this morning and he should be damn grateful she’d given him that much.
They were in the living room now. Leah had her hands on the slim curves of her hips. “Hmm. I’m thinking the sofa would look better on that wall.” She pointed to the one opposite the window. “What do you think?”
He had a mother and a sister, so knew better than to offer an opinion. “Whatever you say.” Obediently, he picked up one end of the sofa and maneuvered it into place.
Leah smiled. “That is better, thanks.” She glanced around the room, then sighed. “I think we’re finally done.”
He had to get her out of there before she thought up another redecorating idea. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Want to grab a late lunch at the Number 1? Sierra serves a mean roast beef special on Sundays.”
Leah considered the offer. “Let me phone my mother first and see how the kids are doing.”
He waited while she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Like him, she had an iPhone, only instead of a horse she used a picture of her two kids for her wallpaper. After a brief conversation she gave him the nod. “Mom said we should go ahead. They had their lunch an hour ago. But where is the Number 1—is it new? I don’t remember a café by that name. A coal mine, yes, but not a café.”
Colt waited while she locked up her new home, then led her to the passenger side of his truck. His day was looking up now that he’d convinced her to have lunch with him and he was happy to bring her up to speed on some of the happenings she’d missed when she lived in Calgary.
“Sierra Byrne owns and runs the Number 1. She named the café in honor of her grandfather, a miner who drowned when the Number 1 was flooded back in… I don’t know when exactly. A long time ago. It’s been open about four years.”
“Did Sierra grow up here?”
Relieved that Leah didn’t ask to drive again, Colt walked around to the driver’s side and pressed the buttons to return his seat and mirrors to their original positions. His new truck had impressed her. It was kind of ridiculous how happy that made him.
“Nah, Sierra’s parents lived in Chicago. But her mother and Aunt Jordan grew up in Roundup and Sierra’s family spent summers at their cabin along the Musselshell River.”
Leah glanced out the window as they drove along Highway 87 toward First Street. “Must have been some change moving from Chicago to here.”
Her comment made Colt wonder how Leah herself was making the adjustment. “You miss Calgary?”
She was quiet for a bit, then shifted her gaze from the town to him. “If the past six years taught me anything, it’s that I’m a small-town girl at heart.”
There was a world of unhappiness in that comment, Colt thought. He parked across the street from the redbrick building that housed the Number 1.
“Hey, isn’t this the old newspaper building?” Leah whistled. “Sierra sure fixed it up nicely.”
“Wait until you taste the food.” Colt was about to open his door when Leah stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Hang on a sec. You’re still not off the hook where last night is concerned.”
“I’m not?”
“Like I told you before, I’m planning to start a new business here in Roundup. I’ve got a business diploma with an agricultural accounting concentration and—” she took a deep breath “—I was hoping Thunder Ranch might be my first client.”
It took him a few seconds to process what she was saying. “Seriously? You want to be an accountant?”
“It’s a good job for a working mother. Tell me—who does your family’s books now?”
“My mother.”
“Do you think she’d consider hiring outside help?”
He thought about the health scare she’d had recently, and all the extra work that had fallen on her and Ace’s shoulders since they added the bucking horse breeding program. Most everyone in his family would rather be working on the land and with the animals than doing paperwork in the office. “I’ll talk to her about it—okay?”
“That would be great.”
He adjusted his hat, then gave her a cautious glance. “So we’re square now?”
“What do you think?”
Colt laughed. She kept him hopping, that was for sure. And if he had to be on the hook with someone, Leah Stockton would be his first pick.
* * *
THE INSIDE OF the café had been decorated in keeping with the mining theme, with historical photographs on the walls and a shelf full of mining artifacts. Leah especially liked the dramatic color scheme—sparkly red tables and black leather seats. Colt led her to a corner booth, and she was charmed to see a miniature coal bucket in the middle of the table holding the condiments.
Colt waved at someone out of her line of sight. She turned to see a curvy woman, about her age, in a red apron delivering two plates of the lunch special to the table behind them. When she was done, she gave Colt a warm smile.
“Hey, Sierra. How’re you doing?”
“Business is good, so I’m happy. I’ll take your order in a sec, Colt. Just let me get you some water, first.”
She turned on her heel, heading for the kitchen, and Leah cleared her throat.
“Um…either I’m invisible, or that woman only has eyes for you. She didn’t even glance at me.”
Colt flashed a smile—the kind he’d used a lot the previous evening. “Darlin’, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
“Right. After last night? I don’t think so.”
Sierra returned then, and Leah flashed a smug look at Colt when she had only one glass of water. See—I was right. She didn’t even notice me!
“Oh, dear.” Sierra looked flustered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had a guest.”
Colt made the introductions, then asked for the lunch special.
“I’ll have the same, please.” Leah had to admit that Sierra was making up for her earlier rudeness by being especially attentive now. She quickly brought an extra glass of water to the table, and apologized again for her oversight.
When they were alone once more, Colt’s expression turned serious. “About last night—I want to apologize.”
“Really, for which part? For hitting on me like I was one of your buckle bunnies? Or running for the hills once you found out I had children?”
He grimaced. “When you put it that way…”
“Maybe you were judging me because you figured out Jackson and I got married because I was pregnant?”
Colt looked truly miserable now. “God, no, I wasn’t judging you. I’m the last—” He turned his head away and drummed his fingers on the table as he searched for the right words to say. “My Uncle Josh likes to say that if you want to be successful in life, figure out what you’re not good at, and don’t do it.”
Leah had to smile. That sounded like something her father might have said.
“And what I’m not good at is kids. And responsibility. I’m not like Ace, or my father, or my uncle—I don’t know why. I just was born with…something missing.”
Did he really believe this crap? No one knew better than Leah that people weren’t born with the ability to be responsible parents. She certainly hadn’t been mentally prepared to be a mother when Jill was born. She’d loved barrel racing and she’d enjoyed the travel and meeting new people. Settling down hadn’t been in her plans, at all.
But now that she had Jill and Davey, she was grateful for how her life had worked out. She had a feeling that Colt wouldn’t understand, even if she tried to explain. Best to keep things simple between them.
“I get it. You don’t want to be involved with a woman who has children. And you’re probably right. We were always best at being just friends.”
“Right.” Colt didn’t sound convinced, however. The look he gave her was rather pensive, in fact.
Sierra arrived with their food then, and she set the fragrant plates in front of them. “Hope you enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else.”
For a few minutes Leah and Colt ate in silence, though Leah couldn’t remember when she’d last had such a small appetite. Then Colt put down his fork.
“Everything you just said makes perfect sense. But you have to admit…we did have something there for a bit, didn’t we?”
Leah didn’t dare reply, or look up from her food, because she’d been thinking the exact same thing.
Chapter Four
After lunch Colt dropped Leah back at her place. He watched her walk away from him, her long dark hair swaying from side to side with each stride. She gave him a final wave before getting in her truck to drive back to her mother’s.
He ought to be pleased with how the day had gone. He’d made his apologies and atoned for his rude behavior by helping Leah move into her new home. They’d cleared the air between them, and agreed that they were better off staying just friends.
But he didn’t feel pleased. He felt…restless and a little, well, unhappy. The feeling wasn’t a new one. But it was becoming more pervasive. Used to be he’d have a couple of good weeks, maybe even a month, when he’d be happy to be back home after a series of rodeos. Now it didn’t seem to matter where he was…he was always wishing he could be somewhere different.
Colt drove back downtown to the post office. He parked, then reached for the stamped envelope he’d put in the glove box earlier. He could have set up automatic payments with his bank, but he got some satisfaction out of this monthly ritual. He went to the drop box on the wall of the post office, hesitating for a moment, then releasing the letter into the capable hands of the U.S. postal system.
He liked knowing that in a couple of days the letter, with his handwriting, would be sitting on their kitchen counter. Tangible evidence of his existence.
Colt returned to his truck and headed back to the ranch. He wished he could feel enthusiastic about something. Anything. Spending time with his family, working with the horses, checking in with Uncle Josh on the cattle side of their operation. But he didn’t.
The source of the problem went back twelve years. His father had still been alive then, and Colt had considered going to the old man for advice. But the timing had been bad. Ace had just been accepted into veterinary college and their parents had been so pleased. So Colt had kept everything to himself, and done what had seemed to him to be the right thing at the time.
Only ever since then, and especially in the last few years, he’d started to wonder if he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.
Last night Leah had said something to him about being proud of her decision, of knowing she’d done the right thing.
And that was the crux of his problem, Colt realized. He wasn’t proud. In fact, he was damned ashamed.
* * *
THE DAY HAD TURNED unseasonably hot, almost eighty degrees Colt figured, as he strode across the pasture looking for Midnight. He could feel the prickle of sweat under his hat, and thought longingly of a swim in the family’s pool.
But first he needed to talk to his mother. She hadn’t been in the house, so the office in the barn was his next guess. He figured he’d say hello to Midnight on his way.
The stallion and Fancy Gal were grazing laconically in the shade of an aspen grove. As soon as Midnight spotted him, he snorted and tossed his head. Almost as if he were trying to say hello.
“You are one fine-looking animal,” Colt said as he drew closer. “And no, Fancy Gal, I am not speaking about you.” He gave the mare a friendly scratch on the side of her neck and when she nuzzled up to his shoulder, he laughed.
“You know what I have, don’t you?” He pulled the AB Horse Treat out of his shirt pocket and broke her off a piece. The rest he offered to Midnight.
The stallion was more stand-offish than the mare. He thrust his head back and glared at Colt with his dark brown eyes, before condescending to take the food.
Once he had the cookie, though, Midnight backed off. He munched through the treat in no time, then gave Colt another look. This time Colt felt as if the animal were pleading with him. And not for another cookie.
“What do you want, Midnight Express?” Colt didn’t think he was projecting his own emotions on the animal, when he sensed a certain restless longing in him. Maybe he should find out more about Midnight’s history and see if there were clues to why he wasn’t settling in more easily.
Colt left the horses, then made his way to the equestrian barn. “Mom, you here?”
“In the office, Colt.”
He found her behind the large oak desk, glasses settled halfway down her nose, frowning at the adding machine. “Darn thing just keeps making mistakes today.”
Colt noticed several of the filing cabinet doors were open. Some of the papers had spilled onto the scarred plank floor. He bent over to pick them up. “What’s this? Some kind of cash-flow statement?”
“It’s a condition of our bank loan. We’re supposed to send them these reports every quarter. This one is due at the end of the month.”
Colt couldn’t have asked for a better lead-in. “Well, interesting you should say that, Mom, because I was just talking to someone who’s setting up a new bookkeeping business in Roundup and she’s looking for clients.”
His mother peered at him over the top of her glasses. “Go on.”
“The… Well, the woman is Leah Stockton. Do you remember her?”
“Sure do. She and Cheyenne Sundell were the competitors to beat back in Dinah’s barrel racing days. She used to ride that beautiful paint.”
“Country Girl,” Colt recalled. Leah’s horse had not only been a beauty, but she’d also been light on her feet, too. He’d never seen a horse make tighter turns around a barrel.
He moved toward the whiteboard on the wall where they kept track of the rodeo bookings for the bucking stock. “Looks like a busy schedule.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t too busy. If our breeding program is as successful as Ace thinks it could be, maybe we could afford to slow up a little next year.”
“In the meantime, it seems like a smart idea to get you some office help. You know, Leah doesn’t barrel race anymore. She has two little kids to support.”
“I did hear about that. She married some cowboy she met at the Calgary Stampede, but they ended up divorced. Her mother is pretty upset about it.”
“Well, that’s life. Bad things happen.”
“Unfortunately that’s true.” His mother glanced at the papers scattered over her desk, then frowned again at the adding machine. “Does Leah have any experience doing books for a ranch?”
“I’m not sure. But she does have an accounting diploma so she must know something.”
“I suppose I could give her a chance. Lord knows I’d be happy to spend less time in here.” She glanced at the far wall, where a couple of shelves held some of her children’s and even a few of her husband’s rodeo trophies. “Give her a call and see if she can make it here for Monday morning.”
* * *
LEAH EXPECTED settling the kids to sleep that evening in their new bedroom would take longer than usual. She’d done her best to make the small room feel like home. They’d unpacked toys together and she’d hung many of the pictures from their old rooms in Calgary, including several of their dad. The twin beds were made up with Davey’s Thomas-the-Train and Jill’s Dora-the-Explorer comforters.
They’d already had showers and brushed their teeth in the new bathroom. Now Leah asked them to put their dirty clothes in the hamper, then climb into their beds. As they scampered around the room collecting socks and underwear, her phone chimed.
She pulled it out of her back pocket and saw a text from Colt.
Mom wants to meet with you about the job. Tomorrow good?
Leah smiled, then slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Who wants to read Melanie Mouse’s Moving Day?”
“I do!” Jill went to the large wicker basket where they’d unpacked their books and pulled out the well-worn picture book.
“Me, too.” Davey scrambled up beside his sister, leaving room in the middle for Leah. She accepted the book from Jill, glad she’d had the foresight to buy a hardcover, since they’d been reading this story a lot lately. Neither one of the kids seemed to get tired of it. Usually at the end came lots of questions, which Leah patiently answered, over and over. Her children had been through many changes with the divorce and the move and she wanted them talking to her about their feelings, not bottling them up inside.
Today, though, Jill had a new question for Leah.
“Why couldn’t we stay at Grandma’s house, Mommy? She wants us to.”
“Well, when I was a little girl, like you, I lived with your grandmother, because she was my mom. But I’m an adult now. And once you’re an adult, you’re too old to keep living with your parents.”
“I won’t ever be too old to live with you,” Jill said.
“Me, too,” Davey said, giving her a fierce hug.
“You can stay as long as you want,” Leah promised.
“But if we left, would you cry like Grandma does?” Jill asked.
This was news to Leah. “Did you see your grandmother cry?”
Jill nodded. Davey leaned in close and whispered. “She was sad.”
“Really?” Leah swallowed, feeling some tears of her own welling up. “We’ll have to give Grandma lots of hugs and kisses the next time we see her so she’ll be happy again. Just like this—” Leah put an arm around each of her children and took turns kissing one, then the other. Soon, they were tumbling on the bed and giggling.
Which wasn’t exactly calming them down for sleep.
But she didn’t want them going to bed sad, either.
She decided to read them another book, a silly, fun book by Dr. Seuss, and then finished with the classic Goodnight Moon, which the children read to her since they knew it by heart.
“I love you, peanuts. Sleep well.” She gave them final kisses, pulled up their covers, then left the room, door open, night-light glowing.
She would have liked a little time to relax with a cup of tea and the latest episode of The Good Wife, but she still had her own bed to make and clothing to unpack. She was crossing the hall when her iPhone rang. She answered quickly, not wanting the chime from Modern Family to wake the kids.
“Hello, Mom.” She fought to keep her tone friendly, even though she was upset at her for crying in front of the kids. Her mom had been a big help since she’d moved back to Roundup. And she did appreciate that. But her children needed less drama in their lives. Not more.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you this earlier, Leah, but Jackson called the house today.”
“Really?” She hadn’t heard from her ex in over a week.
“He wants you to phone him back.”
“Did he talk to the kids?” They hadn’t mentioned anything, so Leah would be surprised if he had.
“No. They were napping, so I never thought to mention it.”
It shouldn’t have been up to her mother. Jackson should have asked.
“Leah, you will call him back?”
“Yes. I’ll dial him on Skype tomorrow morning so the kids can talk to him, too.”
“Maybe it would be better to call him tonight while they’re sleeping. So the two of you can have a private chat.”
“Mom, there is nothing private to be said. The divorce is final. Our only connection now is our children.”
There was a long silence. Then her mother said, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Colton Hart helping you with the move today, would it?”
“Mom, no! I haven’t seen him in years. We just happened to run into one another at the Open Range last night.”
“Is that where you stormed out to? I thought I could smell stale beer on your clothes when I put them in the washer.”
Oh, my Lord. Give me patience. Her mother was making her feel like an adolescent again.
“Yes, Mom, I went to the bar for a few drinks last night.” Leah opened the black garbage bag that held her bedding and pulled out her sheets. She pressed the speakerphone option, then set the phone on her nightstand so she could start making up her bed. “I am thirty-two, remember? And since I know you’re about to ask—no, there is nothing romantic going on with Colt and me.”
Not anymore, there wasn’t.
“I’m relieved to hear that. The Harts are a good family, but everyone knows Colt is the black sheep.”
Really, Mom? Black sheep? Leah bit back a sarcastic comment, knowing there was no point in starting an argument she couldn’t win.
“The real reason I was talking to Colt was because I wanted him to ask his mother about me doing some bookkeeping for Thunder Ranch.” Her mother knew about her plans to run her own home business. She’d shocked Leah by actually being supportive.
“That’s a good idea.”
“Thank you. I just received a message that Sarah Hart wants to interview me tomorrow. Is there any chance you could watch the kids for me, again?”
“I have coffee plans with some friends in the afternoon, but my morning is free. I’d be happy to have them for a few hours. Would that be enough time?”
“Lots. Thanks so much, Mom. I’ll bring them over around nine-thirty.”
Leah sat on her bed and picked up her phone to end the call with her mother then typed a reply to Colt’s message. Great! Tomorrow at ten, okay?
His reply came a few seconds later.
That works. Now you owe me, darlin.
Chapter Five
Efforts to reach Jackson on Skype the next morning were not successful. Leah ended up leaving him an email message, asking when the best time to talk to him would be. The kids miss you, she added, hoping that would provide incentive for him to answer promptly.
Putting her ex-husband out of her mind, Leah connected her computer, then checked the directions to Thunder Ranch. When she was sure she knew where she was going, she loaded the kids into the truck and drove to her mother’s.
As soon as she saw her mother’s face, however, she could see that she wasn’t well. “Do you have a migraine coming on, Mom?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Leah kept a hold on Davey and Jill, who had been about to run to their grandmother to give her the hugs and kisses they’d talked about yesterday. “Hang on, guys. Grandma’s head is hurting today. Don’t touch her, okay? And try to be very quiet.”
She took a closer look at her mom. “Have you taken your pain meds?”
“Yes.”
“And have you eaten anything today?”
“Toast and coffee.”
“That’s good. Why don’t you lie down in your room, and I’ll bring you some water.” She went to the kitchen, took out a glass and filled it with ice-cold water from the tap.
“I’m so sorry about this, Leah. I know you have that appointment at Thunder Ranch. Maybe if you turn the TV to some children’s programming, the kids and I will make out okay until you return.”
“No way, Mom.” She felt guilty enough already about how much her mother had been helping her. Maybe she was pushing it and that was why she’d come down with the headache today. She didn’t get them often, but when she did, they were dreadful.
“But your meeting…”
“I’ll figure something out. I’m more worried about you right now.” She took her mother’s arm and led her to the bedroom. She helped her settle and left the glass of water on the nightstand. “Will you be okay for a few hours?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Good. I’ll come by around lunchtime. For now, please get some rest.”
“Thank you, Leah.” Her mother’s eyes were already fluttering closed.
Leah found the children in the living room. Jill had the remote pointed at the TV and was changing channels while Davey kept saying “no” to everything she found.
“Jill, please hand me that.” Leah switched off the television. “We have to get back into the truck. Since Grandma’s sick we’re switching to Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B, Mommy?” Jill asked.
She had no idea.
* * *
WITH THE KIDS STRAPPED into the truck, Leah dialed the number for Thunder Ranch. Sarah Hart answered.
“Hi, Mrs. Hart, this is Leah Stockton. I’m afraid I have a babysitting issue this morning. Could we please reschedule our meeting for tomorrow?” She hated asking, feeling as if this could only hurt her chances for landing the job.
But Sarah proved understanding. More than Leah could have expected. “No need for that. Bring them with you. And don’t forget their swimsuits.”
“Are you sure?”
“You bet. It’s been too many years since we’ve had young ones around here.”
“Gosh, well thanks, Mrs. Hart. See you at ten o’clock, then.”
“Looking forward to it, Leah.”
After disconnecting the call, Leah turned to the children. “Anyone want to go to a ranch?”
“Yes!” Davey clapped his hands, then asked, “What’s a wanch?”
“It’s a place with cows and horses,” Jill said authoritatively. “Right, Mom?”
“Yes. And they have a swimming pool, too.”
“Awesome.” Jill’s violet-blue eyes went round with wonder.
Leah drove back to the house on Timberline Drive and stuffed a backpack with books, snacks and sunscreen as well as the kids’ bathing suits and towels.
For all the years she’d known Colt, Leah had never been to Thunder Ranch, which was on the opposite side of Roundup from the farm where she’d been raised. The first ten miles were along Highway 12, but when she turned south off that, she lowered her speed and opened the windows so they could enjoy the scent of growing hay and the tang of the ponderosa pines.
The light blue sky was clear of clouds and provided the perfect backdrop to the gentle hills of sage-colored grass, low-growing ponderosa pine and sandstone rock outcroppings. Every breath smelled like home to Leah, who hadn’t appreciated, until this moment, just how much she missed her own family’s farm.
At last she arrived at the mile-long driveway that led to Thunder Ranch. Taller spruce trees grew on either side of the well-maintained gravel road until finally Leah could see the main house. Large, but not pretentious, with wood siding and a fieldstone wall, the home blended into the surroundings with an air of permanent belonging.
Again, Leah couldn’t help but think of the farmhouse where she’d spent her childhood. She understood why her mother had to sell after her father’s death. But she wondered if any house would ever truly feel like home to her, the way that one had.
The new house in the suburbs of Calgary where she’d lived with Jackson certainly hadn’t. Nor, she had to admit, did the place she’d just rented on Timberline Drive. She looked back at her children. What did home mean to them? she wondered. She’d moved them around so much the past few months….
“Is this the ranch?” Jill asked, doubtfully. “Where are the horses?”
“This is just the house. See those buildings down there? Those are the barns where the horses live. But I bet most of the horses are outside today. On ranches the horses live in fenced areas that are called pastures.”
Leah hoped she would have a chance to show them the livestock later. But for now, she helped them out of the truck, then grabbed her briefcase and their backpack. Before they had reached the big front door, Sarah had it opened.
The matriarch of the Hart family was in jeans and a neatly pressed gingham blouse. She was also wearing a beautifully tooled leather belt, which had to have been crafted by Sarah’s nephew Beau Adams. Leah had admired his leather goods at the Western Wear and Tack Shop in town.
“Hi, Mrs. Hart. These are my children, Jill and Davey.”
Her son stuck his chest out proudly. “I’m Davey.”
“Thanks for clearing that up for me, Davey.” She winked at Leah. “So you must be Jill.”
Leah’s daughter smiled, and Leah wondered what Sarah thought of Jill’s bright pink leggings and green-and-orange striped T-shirt. The combination made Leah want to reach for her sunglasses, but Sarah made no comment.
“We might as well go straight to the equestrian barn since that’s where the office is.”
And Colt? Leah had thought about the possibility of seeing him today when she’d dressed in her favorite lavender shirt. She’d even stared in the mirror, remembering the comment he’d made about purple bringing out the color of her eyes. But they’d looked the same to her. Just cowboy flattery on Colt’s part. She had to remember to watch out for that.
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