Dan's glance slid to her. "That depends on your aunt."
She lifted her hand that wasn't holding the reins, then immediately snatched the leather strap again. She wasn’t quite ready for one-handed. "I'll think about it, okay?"
Brady's fist shot up into the air. "Yes!"
He nudged his horse to a smooth canter and caught up with the other children.
"Julianne will be next," she warned the cowboy. "Two days ago, she’d wrangled three of my kitchen chairs into the living room and set up a barrel course for herself."
Dan watched Brady ride off, smiling. "I've started calling her Turbo. They're good kids."
"I wish I could take the credit," she said. Watching Brady, a wave of grief hit hard, and she had to blink back tears. Her voice was husky when she spoke. "He's a lot like his mom. Emma was... She never made a decision without considering every angle. When she made a joke, it was always so unexpected that you couldn't help laughing. Julianne is more like her dad."
"Were you and your sister close?"
She felt the weight of his gaze on her. Curious, compassionate. And warm.
"Yes. Our parents were... workaholics, I guess. Slaves to their practices. They were both surgeons. Emma was five years older and pretty much raised me."
"So you followed in the family business?" he asked quietly. "What about Emma? Was she a doctor too?"
"The only thing she ever wanted to be was a mom. And she was a good one."
A sniffle caught her by surprise. She passed a hand under her eyes. Laughed a little at her own silliness.
"I went to eight years of medical school. Passed my residency. But I don't know what kind of clothes to buy Julianne for when she starts school in the fall. Brady and I butt heads all the time. I don't know how to reach him anymore, now that I'm his guardian and not just his aunt."
Dan was riding so close that his knee bumped hers. "You're kidding, right? Anybody can see how much you love those kids. Like they were your own."
She looked at him. Fell into his eyes, just a little bit. Had to look away, because tears were still pricking her eyes. "I just feel so inadequate sometimes. I can't quit worrying that they'll get hit by a car while riding their bikes or fall down a manhole."
She caught the skeptical raise of his brow. Laughed a little at herself. "I know. In Taylor Hills?" She shook her head. "Some of the things I saw in the ER..."
She took in the idyllic scene, the backs of horses and children ahead. On this path, on this beautiful summer day, it was hard to believe there was such tragedy in the world.
"How did your sister die?"
She’d experienced enough tragedy to know it always hit when you least expected it. She swallowed hard. "She and Riley were in a car accident. A head-on collision with a drunk driver."
They'd been DOA. She'd read all the reports. The police report, the paramedics' report, the coroner’s report. All of it. She’d had nightmares for weeks afterwards.
"Maybe…” Dan said, “maybe you've had a trauma too. Because of the way they died. The suddenness. And maybe in your heart, you know that those things you're afraid of are a little ridiculous. But the trauma is making everything seem so critically important."
She'd never considered that before.
"And maybe in a few months, or in a year, you'll start to worry less."
A silence fell between them, a comfortable one, as she thought about the cowboy's words. Was she projecting fatal accidents onto the kids because of Emma's accident?
"I kind of wondered if it was because I haven't gone through any of the things normal parents go through." She let her eyes track the kids' progress as they approached a farm pond flanked by trees. "I wasn't there when they took their first steps." She looked at Dan. "I haven't had any of those little milestones with the kids."
"You were there when they learned how to ride."
She looked up at him. He was right.
He reached out touched her knee. "Nobody expects you to be perfect at this parenting thing. Except maybe yourself."
Dan couldn't believe how strong Megan was.
The two of them caught up to the kids, and after everyone had watered their horses, they tied off the animals.
Earlier, he'd prepped wood for a campfire in a rock ring that the Hales and Marksons used for cookouts. Now, he brought out the graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows he'd stashed in his saddlebag. The kids’ resounding cheer gave him a sense of joy he hadn’t felt in years.
"Let me get the fire going," he said. The boys squatted near to watch while Megan and the girls went after the hand sanitizer she'd stashed in her saddlebag.
She was amazing.
And she didn't even know it.
She claimed she was an inadequate parent, but he'd seen her put the kids' needs first time and again.
Like leaving her ER job. She hadn't said as much, but he knew why she’d relocated to Taylor Hills. When her sister had died and left Megan custody of the kids, she'd given up the job she loved to take on family practice here. She could spend more time with the kids, have more of a life.
But she'd given up what she loved.
She'd faced her fear of riding in order to give the kids confidence for their lessons. She was a fair rider herself, would be even better when she loosened up a little.
As far as he was concerned, she had nothing to worry about.
Give her another year or so, and she'd meet a nice guy, get married, and add some kids of her own.
The thought of her dating and marrying burned in his gut like a red-hot branding iron. He liked her too much. In the month they'd spent time together on the ranch, she'd become the friend she'd promised.
He'd let his mind wander too much. His feelings had gone far beyond friendship.
He wanted to think it was because he was starved for companionship, being so isolated here on the ranch.
But it was probably the woman herself.
Now she and the girls approached. Megan squirted the boys' hands first, then approached Dan where he squatted near the fire. It was really too hot for a fire this early in the day, but he didn't want to be near the water when the mosquitos got busy at sundown.
She laid her hand on his shoulder.
He'd finally stopped flinching at her touch. But every touch she gifted him with made him crave more. He'd started dreaming about what it might be like to kiss her.
He was pitiful.
She squeezed his shoulder and held out the tiny bottle of sanitizer.
He couldn't help a quirk of his lips but allowed her to squirt a dollop onto his big palm. First time for everything.
The girls were sitting on a big log stripped of bark a few feet back from the fire, where they whispered and giggled about who knew what.
"Can we roast our marshmallows now?" Brady asked.
"Not yet," Miles answered before Dan could. "You gotta get the right amount of red-hot coals at the bottom. That's the best place to roast your mallow."
Dan chuckled at the kid's expert roasting advice.
Twenty minutes later, the kids were eating their first sticky s'mores and hamming it up. They were a good match. Miles and Brady. Scarlett and Julianne.
One thing he hadn't considered when hatching this plan was that it left him paired with Megan. Without the kids as a distraction, her focus slid to him.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to know what she saw.
He pushed up from the log he'd been leaning against. "I'm going to check the horses." He pointed a finger at Julianne. "Don't hog all the chocolate."
She giggled, marshmallow and chocolate sticky on her face.
He hadn't counted on Megan following him. Her boots crunching in the long, dry summer grasses gave her away.
"Thank you for this," she said.
"Yeah, sure." Wow, he was a real winner. S'mores and a campfire. High society. She was probably used to five-star restaurants. Not a loser who couldn't leave the ranch.
Even so, her eyes were warm, and
he really wanted to reach out for her, so he rounded Tad and put the horse between them. The animal was slightly restless, tail twitching, and Dan needed to make sure there wasn't a burr under his saddle or rock in his hoof before it was time to wrap up and head home.
She peered at him over the horse's back. "Do you really think the kids could be ready for the Bar O rodeo? It's only a month away."
He shrugged. "Just because they compete doesn't mean they'll win. Doesn't hurt to teach them and let them have at it."
She bit her lip. "I don't know."
He raised his brows. She might be too protective for that, but he let the offer stand.
"Are you going to compete? I heard you used to be a skilled roper."
Her unexpected question hit him like a punch in the gut. He sucked in a breath. Used to be.
"No."
"Why not?" She never pulled her punches.
"No partner." He'd killed any chances of that long ago. "Plus, I don't... I prefer keeping to the Triple H."
She knew why. He saw it in her eyes, but she asked anyway. "Why?"
And he didn't back down from it, even though saying it made his face get hot. "Too many folks know me. Or used to know me. I don't like it when they stare. Talk behind their hands. It's just easier to stay here and work."
She frowned. "You made a mistake. And paid for it. What's the big deal?"
"Small towns have long memories."
And his screw-ups had been happening long before the theft.
"It seems kind of... lonely."
She had no idea. Matt and Kelsey had forgiven him, somehow. Carrie and Trey, too. But he interacted with Nate more often than with the others, and that relationship was a compound fracture. Too much to repair.
Except for his time with Megan and the kids, he mostly walked around in a state of perpetual loneliness. Nowadays, his horse knew more of his secrets than any human.
"We’ve never talked about your childhood. Did you grow up in Taylor Hills?" she asked.
He shrugged, not really wanting to get into it. But she'd told him about Emma and about her feelings of inadequacy. Friends reciprocated, right?
"Yeah,” he said. “My mom ran off when I was little. Found a winner of a husband and left me with my grandpops. We lived in a little tin can of a trailer on the poor side of town."
He cast his eyes down because it was too hard to look at her.
"I always wanted to get out, you know? My best friend in high school got a scholarship to a D1 school, and I was jealous. I haven't seen him in years."
Last Dan had heard, Jimmy was an accountant with a wife and two kids somewhere in Kansas.
He glanced over her head. The kids were horsing around but weren't too near the fire.
"Where do you want to go?" Smart girl, using the present tense. Somehow she knew his desire to leave was as strong as ever.
He pushed his hat back on his forehead and looked up at the sky, which was just starting to purple on the eastern horizon. "I don't know. Anywhere. If I could just get free—"
He cut himself off, but he'd already said too much.
Her head tilted to one side, her eyes curious. "What do you mean?"
He exhaled noisily. "The Hales took me back, but sometimes it feels…"
She shook her head. "The Hales?"
"That's who I stole from. Ten grand."
Her expression revealed her genuine surprise.
"Don't you gossip at all?" he asked, half exasperated. It would've been easier if she'd known.
"I like to make my own judgments." Her gaze was steady.
Fine. Make him lay it all out for her.
"I'm addicted to gambling," he explained slowly. "I got myself in a heap of trouble, and when I couldn't pay back what I owed, I stole it from the Hales' bank account. They found out. I went to prison."
"They let you come back to work for the ranch?"
He still couldn't quite believe it himself.
He exhaled noisily again. "They said the slate was wiped clean, but if it is, why do I feel like the guilt is suffocating me?"
Her eyes were luminous in the falling darkness.
He needed to douse the fire and get the kids out of here before the mosquitos carried them off.
"You're trying to pay them back," she said. "That's why you can't leave."
He bared his teeth in a semblance of a grin. Of course she'd figured it out. "That, and my parole's not up. Takes a long time to earn ten K on a cowboy's wage."
Megan saw more than Dan probably wanted her to know. Yes, he was eaten up by guilt, and he'd admitted his weakness for gambling, but she also saw the man now fighting to do what was right.
Before she could figure out a way to put that into words, a cry rent the peaceful evening.
"Aunt Megan!" Julianne's shout had Megan whirling and running back toward the fire. Had someone fallen in?
Dan outpaced her.
But it wasn't a burn that they returned to.
Brady had both hands on his throat, face white, breathing noisily. His eyes were wide and frightened. His cheeks were pouched out.
"He's choking!" Megan cried to Dan.
As she went to Brady, she barely registered Miles standing slightly behind her nephew. Scarlett was crying softly.
Julianne sounded near tears. "We were pl-playing a game. Seeing who could fit the most marshmallows in our mouths."
"He just started grabbing his throat and breathing funny," Miles added.
Marshmallows. They could melt in your throat, couldn't they?
She didn't have her medical bag, none of her tools.
But she reacted anyway.
Megan used the fingers of one hand to pry open Brady's mouth. With the other hand, she swept her fingers through his mouth, clearing wet, white blobs of sugar, letting them fall to the ground. She cleared as much as she could reach, but when she let go, Brady still struggled for breath, bending at the waist.
His lips were turning blue.
Dan was there, his hands coming around Brady’s midsection from the rear. The Heimlich. Yes. Two pumps of his strong arms and Brady hacked and then spit another white blob onto the ground.
And took a deep breath.
She steadied her nephew as he straightened. Color was rushing back into his face.
He was a big kid. Nearly a preteen. But his face crumpled.
She grabbed him in a hug, squeezing him tightly. Realized his head already reached her cheek.
She could've lost him, just that easily.
Tears blurred her vision. She saw Dan step away to hug both girls, calming them.
Brady pushed away from her. He sniffled loudly, his eyes red but no tears on his face.
Miles still stood nearby, white-faced. "I'm sorry, man. That was a stupid game."
"You should never play games that involve putting food in your mouth," she snapped. She meant the words for all of them, didn't mean for her fear to manifest in such an angry tone, but she couldn't help the emotions running through her as the adrenaline drained away.
She was shaking. And she couldn't stop.
She couldn't do this.
"Excuse me." She turned and ran. Past the horses. Out into the open field. Finally stopped when her tears stole her breath and her shaking legs wouldn't carry her any longer.
She buried her head in her hands.
She'd almost lost Brady. Like she'd lost Emma.
She heard footsteps in the long grass. No way to sneak up on anybody out here.
She knew it was Dan. Felt his hesitation.
And then he stepped nearer and drew her into his arms.
She clung to him. Wept against his chest. Poured out the intense fear from just moments ago, poured out the grief she kept bottled so she wouldn't scare the kids.
He held on to her. Strong and steady, a boulder unshaken by the tempest of her tears.
Finally her sobs subsided to the occasional hiccup.
"I can't do this," she said into his soggy shirt.
"Be a parent. I'm not cut out for it. All my training—I completely blanked on what I should do. You had to do the Heimlich."
His smile was small, and soft. "I’m glad I was here. But I know if you’d been alone, you’d have still managed.”
Maybe.
“And,” he continued, “I hate to break it to you, but you already are a parent. A good one. Even good parents get scared sometimes."
He was so near, and her emotions were still rioting.
She really wanted to kiss him.
He must've seen the desire in her face because his expression hardened even as his eyes went hot.
But he didn't break away.
He groaned. "Megan."
She already had her arms around his waist. It didn't take much of a tug to move him closer. She raised on tiptoe, but he held himself back.
Until he groaned again and claimed her lips.
His hands were gentle, his thumbs moving against her cheeks again. He tasted like s'mores and delicious man. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, his fingers slipping into the hair at her nape. He deepened the kiss, his nose pressing against her cheek.
She could drown in his kiss. So easily.
He broke the kiss so suddenly that she was dizzy. With hands on both her shoulders, he steadied her. Then he drew away as if touching her burned him.
His eyes... something was burning him up from the inside.
"We shouldn't… I shouldn't have done that," he said.
She flinched. He noticed.
"I told you once to stay away from me." He mashed his hat on his head. "That still goes." A breath, a moment when he could've taken the words back. "I'm going to round up the kids."
He stalked off, not looking back.
Chapter 8
Dan dunked his head in the ice-cold water streaming from the outside faucet behind the barn.
It washed away the field dust he'd accumulated on today's long ride, but did nothing for the ache burning inside him.
He turned the off spigot, blinked water away from his eyes and shook his head like a dog.
"You really gonna let her get away?"
He stumbled, sure his ears were playing tricks on him. When he focused against the harsh mid-afternoon sunlight, he caught sight of Nate standing a couple yards away, arms crossed like they’d been the day he'd confronted Dan outside the barn.
Melting Megan: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 5) Page 6