Claiming the Cowboy's Heart

by Brenda Harlen

  But she could tell that he was still worried. Of course, less than ten days had passed since he’d almost lost his father, and that was the kind of potentially life-changing event that made a person take stock and reevaluate.

  “He looks as if he’s aged ten years in the past ten days,” he said to her now.

  “He had a heart attack,” she reminded him gently. “It’s going to take him some time to recuperate.”

  “I know, but...he always seemed so strong, so powerful. Invincible.”

  “He’s going to be okay,” she told him, this time much more confident that it was true.

  He nodded again, then surprised her by asking, “What about us? Are we going to be okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know we haven’t talked much over the past few days, but whenever we did, I got the impression that you were pulling back.”

  “Really? Because I got the impression that I was pushed.”

  He winced. “Sky took me to task for my behavior at the hospital. All I can say is that I was worried about my dad and—”

  “And you needed to focus on what really mattered,” she said, echoing the words he’d used.

  “And you thought that didn’t include you,” he realized.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We didn’t make any promises to one another.”

  “It’s not okay,” he said. “And you do matter to me, a lot more than you know. Maybe more than I wanted to admit.”

  She sighed. “Am I an idiot for wanting to believe that’s true?”

  “It is true.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips lightly against hers. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “I’m getting back into the routine here,” he said. “Which means that I should be able to squeeze some time out for us—if you want.”

  “I want,” she admitted.

  He smiled, and she realized that he seemed genuinely happy.

  She’d originally suspected that his return to the ranch was a form of penance—his effort to atone for the perceived sin of choosing a career and life away from the ranch. But though he was obviously sweaty and exhausted from the work he’d been doing, he also seemed entirely within his element in a way that he never had at the inn.

  Oh, he did an admirable impression of an innkeeper, but she was beginning to suspect that, in his heart, he was a rancher.

  But she wasn’t getting into the middle of that mess—that was something he would have to figure out for himself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Over the next week, Liam did manage to sneak away from the ranch for a few hours now and again. Including Friday afternoon, when he found Macy in the kitchen arranging cheese cubes and crackers on a platter.

  “What would you say to a movie?” he asked.

  She tipped her head, considering. “Probably nothing, because I don’t think the movie would talk back.”

  He rolled his eyes and tried again. “Okay, what would you say if I asked you to go to a movie with me?”

  “If you’re asking for tonight, I can’t.”

  “Got a date with someone else?” he teased.

  “Actually, three someone elses.”

  “I should have guessed.”

  She nodded and continued to prep for the guests’ wine and cheese, starting a second plate with soft cheeses and pâtés, little bowls of olives and pickled onions.

  He snagged a pimento-stuffed olive from a bowl and popped it into his mouth, earning a disapproving look.

  He grinned, unrepentant, and chewed.

  “You know, this is the point in our conversation where you could invite me to hang out with you, Ava, Max and Sam,” he said, as she replenished the supply of olives.

  “Is it?” she mused.

  He folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “If you really have nothing better to do, you’re welcome to hang out with me, Ava, Max and Sam,” she finally offered. “It’s not Mann’s Theater but we do have Netflix and popcorn.”

  “An irresistible combination,” he said. Then, after looking around to ensure they were alone, he slid his arms around her middle and drew her into his embrace. “Or maybe it’s just you who’s irresistible.”

  He lowered his head to nibble on her lips—intending to keep the contact light and playful. But she closed her eyes and hummed low in her throat, and the sound stoked the fire that burned in his belly. The tenor of the kiss quickly shifted from casual affection to serious arousal. He captured her mouth and deepened the kiss; she pressed closer and kissed him back.

  It had been a long time since he’d had his hands all over her, and he was tempted to lift her up onto the counter and—

  “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  The dry remark was followed by giggles, and then two different female voices echoed in stereo: “Me, too.”

  Macy immediately pulled out of his arms, and though Liam could tell she was embarrassed to have been caught in a compromising position by a trio of guests, she responded without missing a beat. “Sorry, ladies, but this prime specimen is currently off the market.”

  “Damn.” The first speaker, with bold purple streaks in her short dark hair, lamented.

  Elaine, Liam remembered her name now.

  The three women had checked in late the previous afternoon and boldly flirted with him throughout the process. He’d quickly determined that they were shameless but also harmless, and learned they were from nearby Elko and grateful that there were quality accommodations closer than Reno so they could enjoy a girls’ weekend away.

  The shorter of the two blondes—Serena—sighed. “I guess we’ll have to settle for the wine and cheese.”

  “The wine’s already set out in the library—and the cheese is on its way,” Macy said, lifting a tray in each hand.

  “We can take those through for you,” Kelly—the taller blonde—offered, plucking one of the trays from Macy’s hand, as Elaine took the other. She winked at the inn’s manager. “I think you’ve got more important things to do.”

  “Enjoy your wine, ladies,” Liam said, as the trio exited the room. Then to Macy, when they’d gone, “I think I’m the ‘more important thing’ you have to do.”

  “With laundry that needs to be transferred from the washing machine to the dryer, fresh flowers to be delivered to Wild Bill and fruit to be cut up for breakfast, you don’t even crack the top three,” she told him.

  “I bet I could convince you to rearrange your priorities.”

  She quickly stepped to the other side of the island, putting the butcher block slab between them. “I’m not taking that sucker’s bet,” she told him.

  He grinned at this confirmation that he only had to put his hands on her and she’d forget about everything else.

  “You deal with the flowers and the fruit,” he said, because she was a lot better with things like that, “and I’ll take care of the laundry and see you later tonight.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “The kids should be—” she held up her crossed fingers “—settled down by eight, so we can start a movie around then.”

  “I’d offer to come earlier and bring pizza for dinner but...” He let the sentence trail off on a sigh.

  “But Jo’s still messing with you?” Macy guessed.

  “Worse,” he said. “She’s messing with my pizza.”

  “Well, I took lasagna out of the freezer this morning, so if you want to join me for that—and if you don’t get waylaid by your guests at the wine and cheese—dinner will be on the table at six.”

  “I’ll be there,” he promised.

  Liam arrived at 5:45.

  Ava, Max and Sam had already been fed, but they stayed in their high chairs at the table while their mom and he
r guest dined on lasagna, warm bread and green salad. After dinner, Macy invited Liam to relax in the living room while she bathed the triplets and got them ready for bed, but he—after an almost imperceptible hesitation—insisted on helping.

  An extra set of hands allowed the task to be completed more quickly and easily, and Max and Sam were soon clean and dry and zipped into their sleepers, ready for bed.

  “Hey, Big Guy—is that a new tooth you’ve got?”

  Macy glanced over her shoulder to see which “big guy” Liam was talking to as she wrestled her stubborn little girl into her pj’s.

  “Two new teeth,” she confirmed. “The top ones broke through his gums yesterday morning.”

  “Good job, Sam,” he said, lifting the baby’s hand for a high five.

  Macy was startled by his remark. “Why’d you call him Sam?”

  His gaze shifted between the two boys. “Was I wrong?”

  “No. But most people struggle to tell them apart. Even my dad calls them by the wrong names half the time.”

  “They do look a lot alike, but Sam’s eyes have a little more grey mixed with the green, and Max’s chin is a little more square.”

  “Good eye,” she noted.

  “Plus Max is a more introspective and Sam more demanding.”

  She couldn’t disagree with those distinctions, either, but they were hardly apparent to anyone looking at the babies. That he’d obviously been paying close enough attention during his interactions with the boys tugged at something inside her.

  You’re falling in love with him.

  Her mother’s words echoed in the back of her mind, and she realized that they were true.

  Liam, oblivious to the direction of her thoughts, turned his attention to Max. “How many have you got now?”

  The baby smiled, revealing two pearly whites on the bottom.

  “That’s a good start, but you’re going to need a few more than that to chomp on a Gilmore steak,” he told the infant.

  “Quite a few more,” Macy agreed, pleased that her tone didn’t give away anything of the emotions churning inside her. “Although Ava is well on her way to becoming a carnivore—she left six distinct tooth impressions in Gramma’s finger yesterday.”

  “I’ll bet that’s the last time Gramma puts her finger in Ava’s mouth,” he remarked.

  Macy’s lips quirked. “That’s what I said.”

  * * *

  This is what it would be like to have a family, Liam thought, as he sat close to Macy on the sofa with her baby girl cuddled against his chest. The boys were both asleep in their cribs, but Ava had fought against gravity every time her eyelids started to close.

  She’d eventually lost that fight, but she still looked ready to do battle, with her tiny hands curled into fists. Although her pose said warrior, her face was pure angel, with her little cupid’s bow mouth slightly parted and her eyelashes—long and dark, like her mom’s—fanned against the curve of her cheek. Beneath the now-closed lids, her eyes were blue like her mom’s, too.

  Of course, it was possible that her dad’s eyes were also blue. Or maybe green, like Max’s and Sam’s. There were other features he noticed when he looked at the boys that he suspected had been inherited from the man who had contributed to their DNA. Of course, he didn’t know for sure, because Macy remained frustratingly tight-lipped about the father of her children and her relationship with him.

  Whenever he asked any questions, she just said that he wasn’t part of their lives. The vague response was hardly reassuring. Did he still live in Las Vegas? She’d shrugged, claiming not to know. Was she still in love with him? She’d denied ever having been in love with him.

  He wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was holding something back. And every time he tried to wrangle more details out of her, she sidestepped his queries. When he determinedly pressed for more information, she shut the subject down. And then she’d point out that she didn’t ask him about his romantic history, the implication being that he shouldn’t care about hers.

  He wished she would ask about his past relationships, so that he could be open and honest and prove that he had nothing to hide. The fact that she didn’t, that she was obviously wary of an expectation of reciprocity, made him wonder what she was hiding.

  Or maybe she wasn’t hiding anything.

  Maybe he was making a whole lot of something out of nothing.

  It was possible, he knew, that she didn’t want to talk about her relationship with the babies’ father because there really was nothing to talk about. It might have been a casual relationship that had run its course, or a short-term fling, or possibly even a one-night stand.

  Certainly she’d given no indication that she was harboring any feelings for another man. And when they made love, she didn’t hold anything back. But she had yet to give him a glimpse of what was in her heart and, as a result, his own remained wary.

  “Do you want me to put her in her crib?” Macy asked now, her voice pitched low so as not to disturb the baby.

  “Nah, she’s okay where she is,” he said.

  “Let me rephrase,” she suggested. “Why don’t I put Ava in her crib so that we can make more effective use of the sofa?”

  He immediately rose to his feet, careful not to jostle—and wake—the baby tucked close to his chest. “I know where her crib is.”

  “Then I’ll wait for you here.”

  * * *

  Later they moved to her bed.

  She was sprawled half on top of him on the narrow mattress now, and sighed contentedly as he stroked a hand down the length of her naked back.

  “I missed this,” she said.

  “I did, too,” he told her. “But I didn’t come over here tonight to get lucky—I figured I was lucky just to hang out with you and your kids.”

  “It was a good night, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” he agreed. “Although I have no idea how the movie ended.”

  “The way all good movies do,” she assured him. “They fell in love and lived happily ever after.”

  “Good movies have bad guys chasing good guys and battles to the death,” he said.

  “And Rodents Of Unusual Size in the Fire Swamp?”

  “Huh?”

  “The Princess Bride. We’ll watch that on our next movie night,” she promised.

  Then she fell asleep in his arms.

  Our next movie night.

  The words echoed in his mind, tempting him to believe that this could be a regular event for them. That they could be a real couple and do all the things that real couples did.

  He liked to pretend he enjoyed his bachelor lifestyle, but the truth was, he wanted to find the right woman, get married, have a couple of kids. Or maybe three. Maybe even more.

  That was when he realized he didn’t just want a family, he wanted this family.

  And the longing was so sharp and strong, it scared him.

  Macy isn’t Isabella.

  He knew that, but the knowledge did little to alleviate his concerns.

  Because what else did he really know?

  Nothing about Ava, Max and Sam’s father. Certainly not enough to be sure that the man wouldn’t show up one day to lay claim to the children that were rightfully his and the woman who was their mother.

  And then Liam would be shut out of their lives.

  Alone.

  * * *

  Macy wasn’t surprised when she woke up alone, but she was admittedly disappointed. She should have asked Liam to stay, so that she wouldn’t now be missing the warmth and strength of his arms around her.

  Still, she was sure that last night had marked a turning point in their relationship. And, in the interest of open and honest communication, she resolved that the next time they were together, she would share her feelings—she would tell him
that she loved him.

  The idea of saying the words aloud was a little daunting, but she felt confident they were the first step on the path of their future together.

  Her conviction wavered a little when he didn’t stop by the inn at all that day. And a little more when he failed to even call or text.

  Late in the afternoon, she finally sent a brief message, just to check in.

  Everything okay?

  His response was equally brief: Fine.

  It was late Sunday afternoon before he made another appearance at the hotel. Ordinarily she would have been gone by two, but she’d promised Rose that she could stay until four, so the other woman could attend her niece’s bridal shower.

  When Liam showed up, around 3:30, Macy couldn’t help but wonder if he’d timed his arrival expecting that she would be gone. She wished she could dismiss the idea as paranoia, except that he looked so surprised to see her, she knew that was, in fact, what he’d done.

  She continued to reply to email inquiries and, since she was working at the desk, he took the folder Kyle had left for him into the library.

  After a few minutes of internal debate, she followed him. “Are you going to tell me what I did wrong?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Really?” she challenged. “Because you didn’t even look up from your file when you said that.”

  Liam lifted his head to meet her gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said again.

  “Okay, now I believe you,” she said, though the sarcasm in her tone indicated otherwise.

  But she turned back to the double doors, and he exhaled a silent sigh of relief.

  A premature sigh, he realized, when she closed the doors instead of exiting through them.

  “I’m busy here, Macy.”

  “I only want ten minutes of your time—and an explanation. I think you owe me that much.”

  She was right. He did owe her an explanation. But he didn’t have one to give. Certainly not one that would satisfy her.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked wearily.

  “I want you to tell me why, after a thoroughly enjoyable evening together, you disappeared in the middle of the night and have been incommunicado ever since.”