Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (65 page)

She surveyed the empty platters. Not even a scrap of food was left. She swallowed, nodding. “You think if I made twice as much?”

“Yeah, maybe. And some flapjacks.”

“Pancakes, potatoes, biscuits
and
grits?”

When her brown eyes widened, he decided he liked the look and wanted to see it more often. He flexed his arm. “What can I say? Ranchin’ is hard work.”

That last comment earned him a laugh. Shaking her head, she sauntered toward the coffeepot.

He wouldn’t mind getting used to the view, he supposed, though he didn’t expect her to catch him taking a peek while she poured herself a cup. She tilted her head to the side and managed to look down her nose at him despite her petite stature. He grinned and shot her a glance that was all guilty pleasure while he showed her his palms.

The move darkened her eyes with an altogether different emotion. Answering her with a searing look of his own, he stepped closer.

“You have a smudge of something on your chin,” he whispered, running a finger over her smooth cheek. Suddenly, the prospect of spending time with the new cook didn’t seem like such an imposition. “I promised you a tour of the ranch. Will you have time today?” He could practically feel his arm wrapped around her waist while they covered the Circle P from one end to the other.

Her unwavering gaze scoured his face. “Bree will love it,” she said slowly. “Give me an hour to get dinner preparations underway and we’re all yours.”

Colt set his rapidly cooling mug on the counter. Emma and Bree were a package deal, a fact it would do him well to remember. “I’ll saddle the horses.”

“I don’t know.” Emma turned pensive. “Neither of us has ever ridden.”

He shrugged. “We’ll take the Rhino, then.” The four-seater wasn’t the best way to see the ranch, but only a fool would take two inexperienced riders across the rough terrain on horseback. “It won’t take as long, and I need to be back early enough to tackle bills and invoices this afternoon,” he hedged, suddenly remembering he’d sworn not to fall behind on a never-ending, thankless task. He wiped his brow and headed for the door. “I’ll be outside for a while.”

Crossing to the barn, Colt grabbed a pitchfork. Glad for the manual labor that kept his fingers from wandering along soft cheeks, he began mucking out stalls. When the boys he’d assigned to the task put in an appearance, he paused for a moment to reevaluate. Nope, he decided. The woman had gotten under his skin, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it except suffer through their time together as best he could.

“Ya’ll go find something else to do,” he told the ranch hands, whose faces mirrored his own confusion.

Chapter Seven

“Mommy, I’m bored with coloring.” Bree abandoned the scattered crayons on the kitchen table. “I want to do what you’re doing.” On tiptoe, she peered over the countertop.

Emma studied the preparations for tonight’s dinner. Ready for the oven, six trussed hens—two more than she’d originally planned—waited in the refrigerator. Near the stove, vegetables simmered in immense Crock-Pots. Only a few carrots remained to be chopped for the salad—definitely not a job for little hands.

“Hang on, Bree. I’m almost done.” She made smooth work of the thin slices.

Insistent hands tugged on the hem of her chef’s whites. “Now, Mommy. Let me.”

Emma stifled a groan. She had to prove she was up to the challenge of catering to the Circle P’s workers and guests. And she had to do it quickly. Her first day on the job had gotten off to a rough start, and a crabby four-year-old wasn’t going to make things any easier. Especially not when she felt just as off-balance and out of sorts as her daughter. But unlike Bree, she couldn’t blame her irritability on a late night.

No, her cause had a handsome face and a name to go with it.

Colt Judd.

This morning’s unexpected—and far too physical—run-in with the man in the darkened hallway had jolted her senses. Hours later, her chest still burned where she’d brushed against his solid muscles. Heat from his fingers lingered on her skin. Worse, once fired, her libido refused to calm down. She needed it to. Even if she wanted an attraction to the big, burly rancher—which she most certainly did not—she could give a dozen reasons why starting anything with Colt fell somewhere between bad idea and disaster.

Despite a softer side, the man was bossy, demanding. She could go on, but why bother? None of it mattered. Because his stay on the Circle P wasn’t permanent. In less than a year, he’d return to his old life, his old job. Which didn’t mesh at all with her plans to provide stability, permanence—a home—for her daughter.

“Let’s go outside, Mommy.” Bree raced to the door, where she rattled the handle.

“Maybe in a little bit.” She couldn’t blame her little girl for wanting to go. Except for yesterday’s brief and nearly disastrous foray into the yard, they’d been cooped up inside ever since they arrived at the Circle P. “Mr. Colt said he’d take us for a tour of the ranch.”

“That was a long, long time ago.”

With a glance at the clock, Emma lowered the paring knife to the counter. In the three hours since she’d last seen him, Colt hadn’t called, hadn’t sent word. She slipped the salad into the refrigerator.

“You know, you’re right.” Hanging her white jacket on a nearby hook, she gave Bree a conspiratorial grin. “I think we should go exploring ourselves.”

A little fresh air and sunshine would do them both some good. Bree would burn off some pent-up energy. As for herself, well, a walk would probably cool her down. Enough that, when Colt finally did show up, she could make it through the afternoon without doing something truly stupid.

Like kissing the man.

She traced one finger across her lips. Yeah,
that
had bad idea written all over it.

“C’mon, Bree. There’s a pond. We might see some fish. Or ducks. Want to check it out with me?” She slid leftover bread into a plastic bag, and held a hand out to her daughter. “Let’s leave Mrs. Wickles here,” she cautioned when Bree grabbed the doll. “You can tell her all about it when we get back.”

On the way out the door, Emma tasked Tim with keeping an eye on the kitchen.

The young man frowned. “I got a bad feeling, Ms. Emma. Mr. Colt, he won’t like it. You should wait for him.”

“Then he should have shown up when he said he would.” It wasn’t as if she’d decided to go for a midnight run in Central Park. This was Florida, the land of sunny beaches and orange trees. Standing at the door, she shielded her eyes. Cattle grazed far beyond a fence on the other side of the pond. “We’re not even going as far as the pasture. In fact, we’ll stay within sight of the house.”

She waved to her helper. She’d already sprayed Bree with sunblock, and her daughter raced ahead, eager for adventure. At the edge of the lawn, a clear path led through the knee-high grass toward glistening water. While Bree stopped to admire every bug that crossed their path, Emma took in a view far different from the sliver of light that had filtered through the grimy window in their New York apartment. Here, green was the color of the day. Tiny buds topped the tall grass. Palm fronds that looked like giant fans made dry whispers in the light breeze.

Bree ran her finger along the edge of one and giggled.

Grass rustled. A bird with a red beak poked its head above the weeds practically in front of them. Giant wings flapping, it took flight.

Emma held her breath, waiting for her daughter’s reaction, but Bree only laughed.

“He’s funny!” She looked around, her eyes wide. “There’s a lot of birds here.”

Gray cranes posed on stiltlike limbs before prodding the grass with long beaks. White birds paraded around on long, skinny legs that looked too slender to support their round middles. High overhead, crows with enormous wingspans flew in lazy circles above the pond. Thinking of the owl she’d heard from the porch this morning, Emma pushed loose hair back from her face.

They watched a turtle make its slow way across the path, but when Bree wanted to take it back to the ranch with them, Emma put her foot down. “I’m sure he already has a home.”

“Where?” Bree wanted to know. “What do turtles eat? Is that a baby turtle? Where’s its momma and daddy?”

“All good questions,” Emma said. “Tell you what. Next time we go into town, we’ll stop at the library. I bet they have lots of books about the animals that live here. We’ll learn all about them.”

At the edge of the pond, lily pads dotted water the color of strong coffee. While cicadas filled the air with their raspy sounds and grass swayed, minnows flitted between the fat green leaves floating on the surface. Bree delighted in watching the fish swim and spent five glorious minutes simply counting bubbles that rose from tiny mouths. When her interest waned, Emma handed her a slice of bread. Together, they crumbled pieces into the water and laughed as hundreds of minnows swam into the shallows.

Since Bree was still bursting with energy by the time they’d used up all the bread, they struck out on the path that skirted the pond. A pond that was actually more of a lake, Emma decided as the trail narrowed to a deeply rutted track. A thick branch floated near the shore. Emma caught Bree’s arm, putting a quick end to her daughter’s plan to walk across the makeshift bridge. No matter how shallow the water, the idea of her child going for a dip sent a shiver down her spine. Uneasy, she glanced over her shoulder at the treeless shoreline. A laugh bubbled up from her chest when she spotted the house and barn less than a hundred yards away.

“Look, Mommy! It’s a nest. Like a bird’s nest. Only it’s on the ground.” Bree started toward a pile of grass and debris. “Do you think the turtle lives there?”

Emma tugged on her bottom lip. “That’s a pretty long walk for a s-l-o-w turtle,” she said, drawing the words out.

Bree grabbed a nearby twig. “Let’s look inside. Maybe there’s babies.”

Or snakes. Or...
Emma shivered. “Not a good idea, honey.” She took the stick from her daughter’s hand. “How would you like it if someone came into your house and poked around?”

Deep gouges marred the mud surrounding the nest. What would make such large tracks? Emma studied them, the unease from a moment ago deepening to concern. Maybe coming out here hadn’t been such a good plan after all, she decided as the idea that it was time to go back landed solidly in her chest. Looking up, she spotted Bree’s dark curls a split second before her daughter disappeared behind tall grass at a curve in the path.

“Bree! Don’t you dare take another step,” Emma called. Rounding the corner, she slid to a halt.

Alligators.

Two of the largest she’d ever seen—actually the only ones she’d ever seen outside a zoo—lay sunning themselves on a muddy beach. Only feet away from them, Bree stood, her thumb in her mouth. The log they’d spotted earlier moved farther along the shore. Two eyes blinked open at one end of a long snout that
wasn’t
made of wood.

Emma’s heart leaped to her throat.

“Bree, baby,” she whispered. “Don’t move, honey.”

She closed the distance between them on silent feet.

Easing her daughter into her arms, she prayed for a sturdy stick, a bush high enough to keep Bree out of harm’s way, a tree to climb. Nada. She eyed the alligators, wondering how fast they could move. One of them opened a gaping jaw filled with immense, sharp teeth, and she froze.

Crap.

* * *

W
ITH
ONE
BLOW
, Colt drove the loose nail into the board. Hammer in hand, he walked the perimeter of the stall, checking for protrusions or splinters that could pierce a horse’s flesh, gouge a soft mouth, put out an eye. Satisfied he’d dispatched any dangers, he rattled the latch to make sure it hadn’t worked loose. He eyed his handiwork, amused that such an insignificant accomplishment should fill him with more pride than hearing thousands cheer for him at the World Finals in Las Vegas.

Stepping from the enclosure, he rapped his knuckles on the top rail. No, sir, there was nothing quite like a few hours of honest, hard work to clear the mind. This morning, he’d worked his way through a half dozen stalls, shoveling manure and spreading fresh straw. By the time he finished with the rest of the barn, he figured to rid himself of all thoughts of a certain petite, dark-haired newcomer.

“Mr. Colt?” A lean figure crossed the strip of bright sunlight that shone through the wide opening at the end of the aisle.

“Back here,” he called.

Boots sounded against the floor. “Hank said to tell you he got bumped off his flight. He’s taking the next one out and won’t get to Tallahassee before late tonight.”

“You made it back already?” Colt propped his hands atop the pitchfork. The trip from the Circle P to West Palm and back should have taken Josh at least four hours. He stole a peek at his watch.

Great.

He’d lost track of the time. If he didn’t get a move on, he’d run out of daylight before he finished touring the ranch with Emma and Bree.

And there it was.

The restless feeling he’d spent hours banishing rushed over him again.

“Since you’re back, how ’bout finishing up here?” He leaned the pitchfork toward Josh while he stripped off a pair of soiled work gloves. “Leave the last stall on the right. Maize’s in there.” One of a dozen or so cattle dogs had made the spot her home till she weaned her new pups.

“Yes, sir, boss.” Josh hefted the tool on his way past.

Several long strides took Colt into stifling, midday heat. Despite the cooler temperatures in the barn, he wondered if a shower might be in order before he stepped foot in the kitchen. He shook his head. Getting all spiffed up wasn’t going to help squelch his attraction to the petite brunette. It would only make things worse. Instead, he detoured to the big porcelain trough outside the barn only long enough to wash the worst of the grime from his hands and arms before he followed the walkway around to the back of the house.

“Sorry I’m late.” He sniffed and drank in a lungful of appetizing scents, but instead of the cook, Tim stood at the stove. Colt let his smile fade. “Have you seen Emma and Bree?” he asked.

“They’re gone, Mr. Colt.”

“Gone? Gone where?” He pictured the duo on the road to faraway places, out of his life completely. An empty feeling he didn’t expect and wasn’t at all prepared for filled his chest.

“Ms. Emma, she took the little girl for a walk.” The scent of rich chocolate rose from the oven when Tim held the door ajar. “She took bread for the fish,” he added after slipping his hands into oven mitts.

The uneasy feeling Colt had been fighting made a nauseating plunge into his stomach. He grabbed the counter to keep himself upright. His voice roughened. “And you let them go?”

The pans Tim had been holding rattled onto the counter. He retreated a step, his hands outstretched. “Ms. Doris went to the pond. Plenty of times.”

“She knew what to look out for,” Colt growled. “Emma doesn’t.”

Spiders. Scorpions. Snakes. He started with the small things. Thinking of Emma and Bree facing down a few of the larger predators that roamed the Circle P wouldn’t help the situation. Not at all. No, those thoughts would only drive him insane.

He registered a sharp pop as the door slapped against its frame behind him. He veered toward the barn, but straightened. By the time he grabbed a horse and saddled up, any number of bad things could have happened. Even now, he could be too late. He broke into a run. But no matter how quickly he moved, he couldn’t get past the feeling he wasn’t going fast enough.

Seconds that felt like hours passed before he spotted Emma standing clear across the pond. One look, and he knew he’d been right to worry. Trouble had found her. He scanned the tall grass. At first, he didn’t see Bree and his stomach ratcheted tighter. He sucked in a gulp of air when a light breeze whispered across the open plain. The grass parted, revealing the little girl clinging to her mother’s side.

Neither moved a muscle.

Snakes. Gators. Panthers. Boar. All manner of wildlife roamed the area around the Everglades. Colt flexed his fingers and wished he’d stopped long enough to pick up a rifle. Without it, he eyed the water that stretched between him and the spot where Emma stood. Only someone with a death wish swam in an alligator hole, and he didn’t want anyone to die today. Instead, he hit the deer trail that ran along the shore.

Though his mind screamed at him to go faster, he slowed the second he spotted the nest. Staring at the telltale imprint of a large tail in the dried mud, he suppressed a shudder. The scar on his leg throbbed, a reminder of what could happen if someone got between a mama gator and her eggs. He wrenched his thoughts away from images of snapping jaws, weeks of bandages and painful rehabilitation. So far, Emma and Bree were okay. It was his job to see they stayed that way.