Cowboy Crazy (The Dalton Boys Book 1) (11 page)

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Maggie eyed her, probably aware of her lie. “I’ve seen you blossom since you came here. Sure, some of that is due to getting to know our family, becoming more comfortable. But I think there’s more.”

She stared at her hands. “There is.” She wasn’t about to say what though.

“Well, whatever that ‘more’ is, you’ve got a place among us now.”

She looked up, shocked. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Does Hank know why?”

Charlotte pushed away from the table and stood. “Look, I’ve come to treasure my time with your family, but I’m not willing to discuss this with you.” When she met the older woman’s gaze, she expected to see anger. Instead, Maggie wore an expression of admiration.

She nodded. “I’ve trusted you in my kitchen and you haven’t let me or my menfolk down. I’m going to trust you with my boy.”

Charlotte heard what Maggie didn’t say loud and clear:
But don’t hurt him.

After that, Charlotte was unsettled. She moved through the kitchen, finishing the lunch preparations and tidying things that didn’t need it. Her mind was awhirl. She loved this family, and the flutters Hank made her feel weren’t fabricated. But she didn’t belong here.

At lunch, she kept her gaze on her plate, careful not to let Hank catch her eye. Even when he tapped her foot with his heavy boot, she didn’t look up. The noise around the table went on, the Dalton boys teasing each other and Maggie scolding if one of them said a bad word. Too easily Charlotte imagined having a few naughty little Dalton boys of her own.

When everyone had thanked her for the food and left her kitchen feeling empty and lonely, Hank lingered.

His knuckles under her chin were all too familiar. He raised her face but she averted her eyes. “What’s happened since this morning? You’ve cooled off quite a bit.”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Thinking.” His tone was weighty. “You care to share?”

“Not right now, Hank.” She needed time to untangle her thoughts from her emotions. But she would tell him eventually—she owed it to him.

“Okay. You’re entitled to your own thoughts, but I hope you know you can always come to me.”

Oh God. That made things worse. He was supportive and kind—he’d make a wonderful spouse.

For somebody else.

“I know.” She nodded, gaze on the kitchen floor. She needed space, and he seemed to know this. He released her and stepped away.

“I’ll be on the west acres all day. Beck and I are ripping out a few stumps. I won’t be back till supper.” His dark eyes haunted her long after he left the house. Knowing he wasn’t nearby got under her skin. All afternoon she was grouchy and out of sorts. She ruined a batch of cookies and had to throw them away. Removing the burned dough from the cookie sheets was almost as difficult as extracting her thoughts from Hank.

Until she got off this ranch, she couldn’t work through her feelings. A few weeks ago, she’d had her sights set on something much different. Small city living, a calm existence. The Paradise Valley Ranch and a place with the Daltons was a round peg in a square hole.

She needed to figure out if what she’d wanted then and what she needed now were the same.

Supper was baked pork chops with an apricot glaze and cheesy potatoes. When Charlotte stared at the platters, she was shocked to know she’d made this food. Not only was it edible—it was good. The Dalton boys exclaimed over the meal—except for Hank and Beck.

They hadn’t made it down from the west acres.

Worry settled in Charlotte, and she had an urge to grab a horse she had no idea how to mount and take off for the place Hank was pulling stumps.

“Should someone go after them?” she asked Ted.

“Nah. They’ve just lost track of time, girl. Let them have dried-out chops. If there are any left.” He gave her a wink as he skewered another pork chop and dropped it on his plate.

Talk turned to fixing fence posts and a sick cow the vet would come from two hours away to tend. Apparently, Kade did most of the doctoring with animals, but this was beyond his scope of knowledge.

The Daltons hadn’t attended ritzy colleges but they were so educated on ways of life—including happiness. Charlotte had never taken that master course in making the best of life. She needed to go and find it.

She cleaned the kitchen and still Hank didn’t come in. She swept the porch and folded a load of towels. No Hank. The others weren’t concerned when they came in for glasses of milk and handfuls of pie crust cookies filled with strawberry jam.

But she didn’t like the thought of Hank, or even Beck, out there working into the night with hungry bellies.

With nothing else to do, she went up to her room—Hank’s room—and lay on the bed. Restless and burning with a homesickness that had nothing to do with Phoenix and everything to do with Hank.

Damn, she needed to get off this ranch fast. She couldn’t afford to linger and hurt him more. He was growing more attached to her daily.

A small click against glass made her lift onto her elbows. She looked around, waiting, and heard it again. She followed the sound to the window and moved aside the curtains to see a big man standing below.

Heart leaping, she held up a finger and caught movement she believed was a nod. She slipped on her sandals and rushed downstairs. When she reached the front porch, a band of fabric came around her eyes.

“Hank!” She laughed, but thrills of want ran through her. He was okay, not injured pulling stumps. And his old-fashioned method of getting her to come out of the house was classic Hank.

“Remember that little surprise I mentioned?” His voice was hot fire licking her ear.

She nodded, suddenly burning between her thighs.

“C’mon.” He said that all the time—c’mon. She’d been following him blindly for weeks. Blindfolded seemed no different. “Three steps down.”

As her feet left the porch boards and she navigated the stairs, excitement burrowed deep in her psyche. Where was he taking her? The pond for skinny-dipping? Would he press her against the barn and kiss her until she clung to him?

Her shoes met soft turf. It seemed she walked forever before concrete scuffed beneath her feet. On high alert, she waited, listening to the opening of a door. Through her blindfold, she detected low music and the glow of electric light.

Also, the scent of oil.

“Ready?” His voice was at her ear again, and her nipples bunched into hard gems.

She nodded, throat thick.

He whipped off the blindfold, and she looked upon her old car, totally intact, hood closed and a fresh coat of wax on the body.

A squeal left her, and she pressed her hands to her mouth. She had the means to leave the ranch now. She bounced a little on her toes. “Oh Hank! Thank you!”

When she turned to see the pain harbored in his eyes and his crestfallen face, remorse flooded her.

* * *

Cash had said this was the ultimate test. If Charlotte was thrilled to have her car back in working order, she was ready to leave the ranch.

But it hurt—bad.

Hank could barely look at her. The joy on her pretty face stabbed him deep.

Tears flooded her eyes, and he turned away. “It’s finished. In working order. I drove it myself.”

“Is this what you’ve been doing all night?”

“Yes. After pulling those stumps, Beck offered to finish the car with me. I figured I’d better take the help.” Did his voice sound as strange to her as it did to his ears? He was dying a little bit inside. One time he’d had to put a calf out of its misery after it had been caught in barbed wire. Crushing such a young life had hurt for weeks afterward.

Stamping on the tender new shoots of his relationship with Charlotte felt worse. He forced down the lump in his throat.

“Thank you so much, Hank. Really.” She held out her hands but he couldn’t take them. Feeling her silky skin would be his undoing. He’d grab her and pour his heart out, ensuring if she left, it would be with a butt load of guilt.

No, he had to keep hold of the reins.

He tried for a smile. It felt a helluva lot like a grimace, but it would have to do. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry it took so long, but it worked out, with Momma in the shape she’s in. In another few days, she should be in that walking cast, though.”

“Yeah.” She dropped her hands. They dangled at her sides, and she bowed her curly head.

His heart squeezed hard. He had to touch her.

He wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into him. Was she shaking? Probably with excitement.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said.

She nodded against his chest but didn’t speak.

Holding her too long would lead to more. He let her go, but she didn’t move away. Something deep in him jumped up and down, yelling at him to grab her and make her see what he was feeling.

Plucking her off her feet, he ignored her gasp as he stomped across the space to the stool he’d settled her on once before. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes, as stormy as the sea he’d only ever seen in photographs.

“Charlotte, what we have isn’t a passing fancy for me. I…” he bit his lip then released it, plowing forward, “I have feelings for you. Big ones. Here.” He thumped his chest with a fist, and her eyelids fluttered.

What was she thinking? If ever he wished he could read her, it was now.

“Hank.” She pulled out of his arms, cutting him to the quick. “You’ve been the sweetest ever, taking me in when you didn’t have to. Fixing my car and even paying for parts. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

He stared at her, imagining waking up on the ranch in his own bed again, knowing she was miles and miles away. His nose burned, and he pinched the bridge hard.

She went on breaking his heart. “We both knew this day would come. What we’ve had has been special. You’ve healed me in so many ways.”

“Healed you?” His tone was gritty.

She looked at her tangled fingers. “Yes, my hip. My burn. I believed no man would ever be able to look at me the way I needed him to again. You did, and that felt so good.”

Hell, she was speaking in past tense. He felt hung over, unable to process everything. Fact was, he was drunk on Charlotte.

He released the breath he’d been holding, chest on fire. This hurt worse than anything he’d ever experienced. He’d rather take a bull hoof to the forehead than have his heart carved out by the woman he loved.

Though he wanted to flee, he was riveted before her.

“The reason I left Phoenix was because of the scar. The man I was with was sick. He set our apartment on fire and left me drugged inside.”

Fury roared through his system. He sliced a hand through the air. “I’ll find him and kill him.”

“No! No, Hank. It’s over. He’s in jail and I would never allow you to avenge me. It’s part of my past, and as you taught me, I’m a survivor with a story.” Her eyes drilled into his.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, fighting a wild need to punch something.

“I left because I had to find something new for myself. I wasn’t happy in Phoenix or even with Stephen.”

That was his name? Hank wanted to spit.

“My plan was to drive until I found a city I can settle in, that would feel like home.”

“I thought you might…” He broke off, unable to go on with his heart bleeding out.

Her eyes, gray and glistening with unshed tears, hurt him more. “You might?” she prompted.

“I thought you might have found that place.” His ragged words mirrored the pain in his chest.

She made a soft noise. But she didn’t touch him or even meet his gaze.

He’d lost her.

“I get it, Charlotte. And I don’t begrudge you the need to pursue this life you desire. But it won’t stop me from loving you.” He turned and left the garage, walking as fast and hard as he could up the valley. High grasses whispered against his legs, and cows greeted him. He kept on, needing the solace only one plot of land could give.

But when he sat in the place where he’d lain with Charlotte and dreamed of her as his wife, he was far from peaceful.

Chapter Seven

The Daltons all gathered around Charlotte’s car to see her off. Kade carried her bag downstairs and stowed it in the back seat. Witt checked her tires. Beck gave her an emergency kit with a flashlight, blanket and some water. “Just in case,” he said.

And Maggie handed her a care package with cookies and bottles of sweet tea that made her heart all the heavier. Ted gave her a rough hug that raised her tears to the surface.

But Hank…

He stood on the porch, far from the family cluster, shoulders like iron and face impassive.

Charlotte understood.

She raised a hand to him in goodbye, and he turned and walked back into the house.

Battling tears, she got behind the wheel and drove out of Paradise Valley. Leaving behind the people she’d come to love wrenched her soul. She adored each and every family member.

How many times had she gone over the leaving in her mind? She’d always believed Hank might come to her and beg her to stay.

Hadn’t he done that in the garage? He’d confessed his love for her, and all she’d done was let him walk away.

It was for the best.

The world outside Paradise Valley wasn’t as pretty, even though she had several bars of cell service. Her phone bleeped a dozen times with missed texts and calls. She didn’t care whom they were from, because none of them were from a Dalton.

She drove on, passing through Vixen, Texas, home of that little coffee shop with better blueberry muffins than Maggie’s. On through five more towns—ten.

When she could drive no more, Charlotte stopped at a motel and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

“When are you gonna stop mopin’ around?” Cash banged on the crow bar Hank held. The jarring blows travelled up Hank’s arms, but he felt dead inside.

“Dunno.”

“She was the one, wasn’t she?”

Dammit, he didn’t want to discuss Charlotte with any family member. Each of his brothers had tried and Momma had nagged him to try to call Charlotte. Even Pa, in his own gruff way, had mentioned bringing Charlotte back.