Colton's Cowboy Code

by Melissa Cutler

  She tiptoed back to the front of the house and down the stairs, her eye on the taxi. Nothing was stopping her from jumping back in it and taking off. Except that there kind of was, now that she was considering it. Brett was being judged by his family the same as she’d been by hers. They were about to become parents together, and if she stayed with him, if she gave him a chance, then she would spare him from her same fate of having to face his family’s negativity alone.

  And Brett had told her the day before that his father was slipping mentally. Not only that, but Brett’s dad shouldn’t be working so hard around the ranch when his wife lay in a coma. Brett’s father deserved better and the ranch deserved better, too, because Brett was also right about them needing an actual financial specialist to help them with long-term tax planning, one of her specialties. No matter how negatively Brett’s family judged her for getting pregnant, her conscience couldn’t just walk away from that situation.

  Her two measly pieces of luggage sat in the driveway next to the cab. She’d packed light because, one, she had no idea how long she was staying, and, two, she didn’t actually own that much stuff anymore, having sold most of it to afford the business of living. She navigated around the suitcases and handed the taxi driver his rate plus a generous tip through the open driver’s side window. “Thank you for waiting. Have a nice—”

  “Back up so I can turn around.”

  Gee, what a sweet guy. So deserving of my last bit of cash as a tip—not. She stepped back and tripped over her suitcases, planting her rear end hard on the one she’d knocked over.

  Her face growing hot with embarrassment, she took a furtive glance around for witnesses. Not seeing any, she stood and brushed off her dress in time to watch the taxi hauling butt in a cloud of dust as it disappeared along the dirt road.

  She took a moment to catch her breath, marveling at the endless string of awkward moments that her life had become since graduating from college. What was her next move? Should she try knocking again? Call Brett’s cell phone? Settle in on the porch and wait for Brett’s family to find her after they finished their meeting?

  “If you’re here looking for a handout from Mr. Colton, then you’d best be leaving before I call the police,” called a female voice.

  Hannah turned to see a familiar, if unexpected, face. Her defenses immediately went on red alert, as they did every time she saw someone from the Congregation of the Second Coming. “Mavis?”

  Mavis Turnbolt was dressed in what could only be described as a maid’s uniform. Her brown hair was constrained in a tight braid that had been coiled into a bun from which no wild hairs had escaped. She was only a year older than Hannah, and over the years, their mothers had made valiant, yet fruitless, attempts to push them into friendship. She could’ve lived the rest of her life without needing to see any member of the Turnbolt family again, but after all she’d been through, another piece of bad luck didn’t even faze her.

  Then again, it wasn’t fair of Hannah to be critical of Mavis in exactly the same way she hated to be judged. Hannah hadn’t been to the church in years, not since her eighteenth birthday, so for all she knew, Mavis had broken the hold that the church had over her, just as Hannah had.

  “It’s nice to see a friendly face. I had no idea you worked here,” Hannah said, offering her hand for a handshake. “I work here now, too.”

  Mavis eyed Hannah’s hand as if it were a snake. “I will not be associating with jezebels, so you’d best take that hand back.”

  So much for that fair chance. “And you’d best watch your attitude. Neither my baby nor I deserves your scorn.”

  “Scorn is the only thing a sinner like you deserves. Wait until the Coltons learn they’ve hired one of Satan’s newest disciples.”

  Hannah wrapped a protective arm around her belly. “First of all, this baby is a Colton, thank you very much. And second, can you even hear yourself? Satan’s newest disciple? Really?” She cringed inwardly, wishing she’d thought twice before engaging with someone who was so filled with hate. It wasn’t as though she stood a chance of changing Mavis’s mind.

  Mavis’s face broke out in a hard smile. “I guess I have a whole lot of news to share with our church, then. We’ll be praying for the Coltons to cast you out of their lives before you sink your claws of sin any deeper into their family.”

  Oh, brother. “Sounds like a good plan, Mavis. Y’all just go ahead and get busy praying. In fact, with all that prayin’ you need to do, I doubt you’ll have time to work in a den of depravity like the Lucky C. What if our sinning ways brush off on you? If I were you, I’d quit right now.”

  “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Honestly, I really would.”

  “The devil has no power over me.” Her face screwed up as if she was going to sneeze, except that she didn’t sneeze—she spit on Hannah’s shoe.

  Hannah was too shocked to do anything more than gasp as Mavis hurried away. Who went around spitting on other people’s shoes? How was that even a thing that people did in the twenty-first century?

  She dug through her purse in search of a tissue.

  “The Lucky C is a den of depravity? Well, how about that. I had no idea,” a drawling male voice said.

  She glanced up to see a handsome man wearing a white Stetson pull a handkerchief from his jeans pocket. He looked to be about Brett’s age, with a friendly smile and dancing blue eyes, one of which he used to wink at her right before he knelt and wiped off her shoe.

  “Thank you,” she said to his flannel-shirted back and hat.

  He stood and pocketed the handkerchief again. “Pleasure’s all mine.” He stuck his hand out. “Name’s Rafe Sinclair.”

  She shook his offered hand. “I’m Hannah Grayson.”

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, I have to be honest here. I saw you tiptoeing around the big house, so I hope you don’t mind if I inquire about what or who you’re looking for. Maybe I can help you on your way.”

  “I was just having a look around. This is my first day at my new job here at the Lucky C and it’s quite impressive.”

  He touched the brim of his hat. “A new job and you’re expecting? My goodness, you’re a busy bee. What kind of work were you hired for? Because I bet the ranch is gonna need a new laundress now that you’ve affronted Mavis.”

  Note to self—stay away from the laundry room, and Mavis. “I’m the new accountant.”

  A look of confusion flickered over his face, just for a moment, replaced anew by his smile. “How in the world is a pretty little thing like you going to handle the complexities of the accounting needs of the Lucky C?”

  So much for her intuition that Rafe might be one of her friends at the ranch. She bristled inwardly at the derogatory implications dripping from his words, but fought to keep her outward demeanor cool. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage just fine, but your concern is noted.”

  Noted and dismissed as useless drivel. A lot of men in ranch country shared Rafe’s views, and he probably thought he’d done nothing wrong. She’d let her skills as an accountant prove him wrong and maybe open up his mind a little bit.

  “Hannah?”

  Brett’s voice carried across the yard. She turned her back to Rafe and found Brett striding toward her. And dang it all if her heart didn’t skip a beat at the sight of him. He was dressed in a light gray cotton T-shirt that was a shade too form-fitting, with the outline of his pectorals clearly defined and the sleeves pushed up above his biceps, tucked into snug Wranglers. His long legs ended in scuffed brown leather boots. With that look, and the ranch backdrop, he looked every inch the consummate cowboy. All he needed now was a cowboy hat, and she bet her bottom dollar he had one nearby. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing it now because turning into a puddle of hormonal lust wasn’t the first impression she wanted to make with Brett’s family.

&
nbsp; “You didn’t need to spring for a taxi. I was going to pick you up in a couple hours.”

  Clipped to his belt was what looked like a ranch radio, as though she’d caught him in the middle of his workday. Which she had, now that she thought about it. In her haste to prove herself self-sufficient, she hadn’t considered that she’d be interrupting his duties at the ranch. “I didn’t want you to have to, but it looks like I disrupted your day, anyway. I’m sorry about that.”

  He nodded past her, in greeting to Rafe, then leaned in close, his shoulder brushing hers, and got his lips close to her ears, whispering, “I told you I’d take care of you, and I know you’re not used to that, but you have to give me a chance to try.”

  Behind the aroma of dirt and honest ranching work, she caught the scent of his soap or shaving cream, masculine and fresh. That was when her hormones decided it was their turn to take the wheel.

  Wicked, red-hot need kicked up inside her. It hadn’t been the first time since she’d hit her second trimester that lust had slapped her upside the head—or her nether regions, as it were—but this was the first time it’d happened while she was touching an honest-to-goodness man—a handsome one at that. One she knew from experience was an expert when it came to wringing pleasure from a woman’s body.

  A memory surfaced of his hands on her, pinning her wrists above her head, his mouth plundering hers with rough, wicked kisses. A hum of pleasure bubbled out of her before she knew what she was doing.

  Brett eyed her curiously.

  Mortified, she shook the image out of her mind. At least Rafe had wandered away, out of earshot. “And you have to give me a chance to prove that I’m not helpless.”

  Her gaze traced Brett’s strong, clean-shaven jawline from his ear to red, luscious lips quirked into a teasing smile. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, but for what it’s worth, I believe that your general lack of helplessness was one of the bullet points on your résumé, if memory serves.”

  She returned his smile. “Sounds like we have a lot to learn about working together since we’re going to be parent partners.”

  “Parent partners. I like the sound of that.”

  In her periphery, she spied Rafe leaning against a beat-up white ranch truck, watching them. Beyond him, Mavis’s face was visible in the doorway of a long, low-ceilinged building toward the stables. A few other workers had stopped what they were doing to watch, their gazes transfixed on Brett and Hannah. “There are a lot of people watching us.”

  “New arrivals always draw the workers’ curiosity. Little do they knew that they’re seeing the latest member of the Colton family.”

  “The baby’s not going to be here for five more months.”

  His expression turned solemn. He rubbed a tendril of her hair between his fingertips. “I was talking about you. Doesn’t matter what happens between you and me from this point on, because like you said, we’re parent partners from here on out. Like it or not, we’re bound for life. You’re a permanent part of the Colton family now.”

  She’d never thought about it that way, but the idea wrapped around her like a quilt. She’d always longed to be a part of a big family, even if they took a while to warm up to her. She was going to hold out hope that they got over their misgivings and that everything would turn out all right.

  “Speaking of your family, where is everyone?”

  He nodded toward the house. “Edith, who you’ll meet in a minute, had the idea that tomorrow night would be soon enough to meet everyone. She thought you might appreciate getting settled here first and she shooed everyone out the back door.”

  Hannah loved Edith already, whoever she was. “Yes, a night to settle in first would be heaven-sent. I’m looking forward to meeting her so I can thank her myself.”

  “I saw that you already met Rafe. He’s an indispensable member of the Lucky C operation. Has been for a couple years now.”

  “What exactly is it that he does for the ranch?” Besides insult women’s intelligence and capability?

  “He’s a jack-of-all-trades, but mostly, he helps run the day-to-day operations of the cattle-breeding program.”

  Then she probably wouldn’t have much contact with him. “And I saw Mavis Turnbolt, too, before you found me. She and I go way back, but I didn’t know she worked for your family as a maid.”

  “What a small world. I’m glad you got to see a familiar face.”

  “She’s a member of my parents’ church,” she said drily.

  “Ah. Tulsa really is a small world. I had no idea, but I guess I’d better make sure Mavis isn’t let into the kitchen before meals so she doesn’t spit in our food.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at his support, as well as his spot-on prediction. “Gross, and I wouldn’t put it past her to try.”

  The light in his face changed. He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You are aware of the effect those dimples have on a man, right?”

  Oh, this man was smooth. For all she knew, he’d used that same line on dozens of women. The trouble was, the more she fought against a smile, the wider it grew and the deeper her dimples probably got right along with it.

  “I was not aware of that, actually.” The only time her dimples were ever mentioned was by customers at her parents’ store by lonely old grandfatherly and grandmotherly types that she didn’t pay any mind to.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand, his eyes growing dark. “No, I reckon you wouldn’t be.”

  Brett’s light touch sent a shiver skittering over her skin, evoking the memory of every delicious detail of their one wicked night together. From out of nowhere, an all-consuming hunger came over her, to be touched, cherished. Most likely, it was a product of her haywire pregnancy hormones as she recalled, or maybe it was just because she’d been really lonely lately. She pressed her cheek into his palm, her eyes closing and her lips parting.

  At the realization that she was barely fighting the wild urge to turn her lips into his hand to taste his skin, she pulled away from his touch and gave herself a vigorous mental smack.

  He swallowed hard and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Seriously, though, if she gives you any hassle—if anyone here or in town gives you any hassle at all—you let me know and I’ll handle it. Deal?”

  She was tempted to reiterate that she wasn’t helpless, but she could tell how important it was to him that he take on the role of her protector. Besides, she was warming to the idea of him in that role, too, as long as he didn’t turn into a chauvinist about it like his employee Rafe. “Deal.”

  A crack of thunder pulled their attention to the gray clouds piling up in the sky beyond the smattering of barns and buildings to the west.

  Brett tipped his head toward her suitcases. “Where’s the rest of your stuff? Do we need to take a trip back into town today to get it all? I have time this afternoon and a big ol’ truck you can fill.”

  “This is it,” she said. “I’ve got a couple boxes of mementos and books at Lori’s apartment, but I’m pretty low-maintenance when it comes to shoes and fashion, and after I got evicted from my apartment, I sold just about everything but the essentials.”

  He frowned at that, which rubbed her wrong. “Don’t go reading into that too much or feeling sorry for me. I’m fine and I have everything I need. Material goods aren’t important to me—they never were. It’s no big deal.”

  His frowning lips twitched into a grudging smile. His eyes glowed, not with fire but affection. “Yes, ma’am. My mistake.” He nodded at the house. “Let’s get you indoors before today’s afternoon shower hits.”

  Chapter 5

  There was no other word to describe Brett’s house besides mansion. Certainly, it was the largest and most elegantly appointed home that Hannah had ever been in, with a marble-floored grand entrance that extended up to a vaulted ceiling and had as
its focal point a circular table in the center of the space boasting a massive floral arrangement that oozed the word rich.

  The formal sitting room on the far side of the foyer was too stiff and stuffy to look lived in, with sparse furniture and a glass fireplace that seemed more for show than warmth. Every room and hall that she could see was decked out in marble and white decor, and the light palette should have brightened the place up, but there was a heavy weight to the overt grandiosity. As if a person could never get fully comfortable there or kick off her shoes and relax.

  Then again, perhaps the weight and gravity in the house were side effects of the violence that had occurred there the month before and the heartbreaking reality that, even as Hannah stood in the home casting judgment on the place, Brett’s mom was fighting for her life in the hospital. That had to be taking a toll on everyone who lived and worked there.

  Two women waited at the far end of the foyer near the base of a grand staircase. The taller, slimmer of the two had silvery hair pulled into a tight bun and the shorter one looked to be about Hannah’s age, with brown hair and eyes, an olive complexion and a curvy build.

  The taller woman stepped forward with her hand extended in greeting and a bright smile lighting up her face and accentuating her abundant laugh lines. “You must be Hannah. I’m Edith, the Coltons’ housekeeper.”

  From her firm, confident handshake to her perfect posture, Edith exuded efficiency and poise. Hannah bet she never missed a beat, but in the best, most genuine way.

  Brett leaned in and gave Edith a kiss on the cheek in greeting. “You’re a lot more than just a housekeeper.”

  She waved off the praise. “Oh, pish. The title suits me.”

  “Edith is in charge around here. Anything you need or any questions you have, she’s the one to ask. And this,” he said, nodding at the other woman, “is Maria, our talented chef. We were lucky to steal her away from the New York City restaurant scene a few years ago.”