Colton's Cowboy Code

by Melissa Cutler

“First of all, take a breath, Hannah.”

  She braced her hand on the bathroom’s marble countertop. “Trying.”

  “And second of all, I hate the word slut. That’s your parents’ shame culture talking through you, so knock it off.”

  That was another thing she loved about her bestie; she told it like it was and didn’t let Hannah get away with any defeatist self-talk. “Okay. You’re right.”

  “Of course I am. Third of all—”

  Despite herself, Hannah grinned. “There’s no such term as ‘third of all.’”

  “In this case, there is. Third of all, what’s up with the word jezebel? Where the heck did you come up with that ancient insult?”

  Hannah allowed herself a sound of disgust, even though her run-in with Mavis would also make a juicy bit of gossip to share with her best friend. “Remind me to tell you that story some other time. For now, we need to focus on the pros and cons.”

  “Right. Okay. I’ll start,” Lori said. “Pro—he’s hot.”

  “Con—he knows how hot he is.”

  Lori chuffed. “How is that a con?”

  “Hello? Pantie-melting charm is not selective. It works on all panties.”

  Lori chuckled. “Sorry. That’s funny. Plus, I got an awesome visual there.” She cleared her throat. “All right, continue.”

  “He’s a player, but because of this baby, we’re bound together for life, which he reminded me of this afternoon.”

  Lori whistled and muttered some silly innuendo about bondage and Brett.

  Hannah ignored her and pressed on. “So, there’s no such thing as casual sex between us anymore. Our relationship will always be complicated, but having a fling with the baby daddy who also happens to be my boss and my housemate is the most complicated scenario I can imagine, especially when it wouldn’t lead to anything more than a temporary affair.”

  “How do you know it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

  Hannah gave the phone a skeptical sidelong glance, as if Lori could see it. “Hello? He’s a player. He’s the Brett Colton.”

  “I’m getting the picture now. You’re worried about falling for him and him breaking your heart because he’s not the type of guy who settles down with one woman.”

  Hannah wanted to resist the idea. Because it was crazy and stupid. Falling in love in a forever way with anyone in this huge, gonzo world carried a one-in-a-billion probability, much less doing so with the random guy she met in a nightclub who got her pregnant. She didn’t even want to think about calculating those odds.

  “Brett and I have spent exactly five hours in each other’s company, total. I know next to nothing about him and he knows next to nothing about me. That’s not a foundation for love.”

  “You’re worried about falling for him and him breaking your heart,” Lori repeated, more adamantly this time.

  Hannah gave the phone the evil eye again. What the heck was a best friend good for if she wouldn’t let you hide behind your denial? “Of course I’m worried about falling for him and him breaking my heart. Have you met the man?”

  “Nope.”

  Suddenly claustrophobic, she stomped out of the bathroom and straight to the balcony door. She was annoyed that Brett was so attractive and charming, and annoyed at herself for being a hot mess. But mostly, she was annoyed that she was light-years away from being financially independent so that she and Brett could tackle the issue of parenthood and their relationship on even footing. “We’ll fix that soon because I want you to meet him. Let me get my bearings around here and get started in my new job first, and then I’ll have you over, okay?”

  “Can’t wait. In the meantime, I have another pro and con for you,” Lori said.

  “I don’t think I’m in the mood for that anymore.”

  Lori ignored her protest and forged ahead. “Pro—you should sleep with him because you’ve had a crappy few months and you deserve to blow off steam with a hot guy who’s into you.”

  True, that. A bit of Hannah’s bluster deflated. “And the con?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way because you know I love you, but the con is that you’re a neurotic math geek who overanalyzes everything and I know you’re going to overanalyze this decision to the point that you might not be able to properly blow off steam and relax.”

  “That is true, too. So what am I supposed to do?”

  “Have dinner with him tonight. Maybe after spending some time in each other’s company doing something other than screwing, which is how you two have spent almost all the hours you’ve clocked together so far, you’ll realize that your attraction to him isn’t as potent as you thought it was.”

  Hannah considered herself to be an eternal optimist, but even she knew that the odds that having dinner with Brett would snuff out her lust for him were dire, indeed. The man had a gift for words and when he looked at Hannah, he really looked at her, in a way that was both sincere and maddeningly flirty. She seriously doubted that spending more time with him would quell her lust. Still, she said, “That is sound advice. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Call me tomorrow, okay? I want to hear how this turns out.”

  After they ended the call, Hannah stood at the glass French doors, looking out at the ranch and the vistas beyond. The land was beautiful, with the dark clouds and rain turning the grass a vibrant green and the fences surrounding the corrals and fields a brilliant shock of white. On a whim, she lifted her phone and took a picture.

  From behind a line of single-wide trailers near the barn that were probably offices, something white caught her eye. She took a second look.

  A young woman wearing a white dress was standing in the rain and watching a group of ranch workers guiding cattle through a series of chutes toward a large fenced-in area. The woman didn’t hold an umbrella or move to shelter herself from the storm, so her dress was soaking wet and her brown hair was plastered to her cheeks. None of the workers seemed to notice the woman.

  A flash of lighting zinged through the sky in the distance. A few moments later, a loud crack of thunder sounded and the rain turned into a deluge.

  The woman didn’t move. She didn’t lift her hands or sidestep under the nearest roof eave.

  Hannah zoomed her camera phone in on her and took another photograph. Now that she was looking through the zoom lens, she would swear that the woman was trembling, though the summer rainstorm was warm, the air humid. Through the lens, she could just barely make out something in the woman’s left hand. She zoomed in as tight as the camera would allow, but couldn’t make out what exactly the long, sticklike object dangling from her hand was. A baseball bat? A cane? An ax?

  Yeah, right. Ridiculous, Hannah. She was letting the eerie feel of the mansion and the lightning and thunder send her imagination on a wild adventure. She shook her head to clear it, refusing to add hallucinating to her list of pregnant quirks.

  Lori was right. She was overthinking everything instead of relaxing into the idea that maybe it would be okay to let down her guard around Brett and his family. Maybe bringing her to this heaven on earth at the Lucky C was God’s way of letting her know that everything was going to be okay for her and her baby if she’d just open her heart to the possibilities He’d set before her.

  She dropped onto the sofa and lifted another cookie from the plate. It wasn’t warm anymore, and the chocolate wasn’t melty, but it was almost as delicious as the first one she’d eaten. Unable to resist another look, she stood again and returned to the French doors, curious if the rain-loving mystery woman was still enjoying the foul weather. Hannah scanned every inch of the ranch that she could see, looking for the shock of white fabric against the browns and grays and greens, but the mystery woman was gone.

  Chapter 6

  Brett had never been a fan of the Big House’s dining room, which sat at
the back end of the ground floor and boasted a semicircle of glass French doors that opened to a veranda and overlooked the pool and the Coltons’ pastoral domain beyond. The space reminded him too much of itchy formal wear he’d been forced to stuff himself into as a kid when his parents hosted dinner parties for other cattle-breeding bigwigs and state senators and the like.

  The room itself had been decked out with tasteful, high-end decor. A smattering of white candles surrounded by bud vases of wildflowers graced the center of a massive, dark-stained wood table and the heavy burgundy drapes had been pulled back to reveal a darkening horizon, the lingering glow of the now-absent sun turning the prairie into a sea of indigo shadows.

  Edith had set up two place settings at the corner of the table nearest the veranda. Brett had offered Hannah the chair with the best view in the room, and they’d dug into course after course of delectable plates from the kitchen. From a spinach salad with warm bacon dressing to seared shrimp canapés, Maria presented each of the first two courses as though they were entertaining the queen of England.

  As Hannah sipped the sparkling apple cider that had been set up in an ice bucket next to the table and ate heartily of Maria’s offerings, she seemed entranced by the view as much as Maria’s culinary talent or Brett, which suited him just fine. He wanted her to grow to love the ranch as he did.

  “I can’t stop looking outside. Your ranch is incredible,” she said.

  Brett took a drink of his beer, his gaze fixated on a whole different kind of beautiful view—his luminous dinner companion. “Every time I think you’re looking at me, your attention slips over my shoulder to the windows.”

  He touched his shoe to hers to let her know he was merely teasing her.

  “I’ve been looking at you plenty. I’ve just been sneaky about it.” She winked at that and Brett’s heart did a heavy ba-dum in his chest. “But honestly, I grew up in a postage-stamp-sized house in town, where you’d look out the window and all you’d see was the peeling paint and dirty windows of the house next door. I can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up here with the prairie as your playground.”

  He flashed a bright smile. “That was the best part. I was the fourth child, yet another boy in my father’s quest for a girl, so I was on my own a lot, exploring the ranch, following my big brothers around.” He almost added, it was the perfect setting for children to grow up in, like it will be for our child. But that might have been overkill for day number one of their arrangement.

  “Just your father?”

  “My mother’s not exactly maternal. Pops wanted a big family and for reasons that I certainly don’t understand, she obliged him, but in between pregnancies, she’d take off for parts unknown. Spas in Europe, cruises and all manner of escapes.”

  She set a hand on his forearm, her smile dimming, which was a shame. “No wonder you’re so close to Edith.”

  To counter the conversation’s turn for the serious, Brett smiled wider and sat up a little straighter. “Edith is going to spoil our baby rotten, just like she did my nephew, Seth. I can’t wait to watch.”

  Maria buzzed in, a covered plate in each hand. “Your main course. Braised beef tenderloin from an award-winning steer right here at the Lucky C and accented with a Cabernet mushroom reduction.”

  Hannah patted her belly. “Speaking of being spoiled rotten, you’re so talented, Maria. I can’t believe the Coltons’ luck to get to eat your cooking every day.”

  “Your luck, too, now.” Dang it. There he went skirting the line of overkill again.

  “You’re very kind, both of you. I’m glad you’re finding the meal pleasing.” Then, as fast as Maria had breezed in, she was gone again, leaving Brett and Hannah to each other’s company.

  They dug into the beef, with Hannah making blissed-out moans that sent Brett’s thoughts right into the gutter, not that it’d been out of the gutter since they’d stood in the driveway that afternoon and she’d turned her dimpled smile on him. Being with her in her bedroom suite had damn near killed him—long before she’d invited the visual of her lying spread-eagle on the bed.

  He cleared his throat, desperate for a distraction. “What were we talking about before Maria came in?”

  “You, growing up.”

  “Ah.” And now that he was recalling it, their conversation had taken a turn for the somber, talking about his mother’s depression-fueled negligence. He wasn’t crazy about continuing that topic, but it was a little late to worry about that.

  “What was it like growing up with three older brothers? I’m an only child, and I can’t get enough of stories about what it’s like being a sibling. What a glorious feeling that must have been to have playmates 24/7. My house was so quiet all the time.”

  Grateful that she’d spared them from delving into a painful topic, he sat forward, all smiles. “Ours definitely wasn’t. Oh, the stories I could tell you...”

  She laughed at that, the sound echoing in the vast room. “I bet you could. Were your brothers good to you? Or is it like a lot of stories you hear about, with big brothers tormenting little brothers?”

  “If you asked them, they’d claim they were angels.” He spread his arms wide. “Shepherds who taught me the ways of the world and kept me safe from danger.”

  The sidelong gaze she gave him put those heart-stopping dimples of hers on full display. “But...”

  “But they’re all full of horse pucky because the truth is that there was a fair bit of torment involved. The way I usually put it is to say that they designated me the proverbial royal taster.”

  “Royal taster?”

  “Yeah, you know like in medieval days, with kings and queens, how servants would have to taste the king’s food first to make sure it wasn’t poisoned? That’s what I was for my brothers, except about more than food. ‘See if there are leeches in that creek,’ they’d say. ‘Go find out if that’s poison ivy or not. I can’t remember what it looks like.’ Or ‘You go inside first and see how mad Dad is that we’re two hours late for supper.’”

  She chuckled. “Oh, no! And you fell for that?”

  “Every time. I ate it up. I suppose the messes they got me into could’ve made me cynical, but I liked the attention. With every bit of trouble I got in, the more attention I got, both from my parents and my brothers, which just fueled my bad behavior. Call it ‘fourth child syndrome.’”

  “Did things change when Greta came around? Did she become the royal taster?”

  “No way. That girl was treated like a princess from the moment my father found out he’d finally managed to sire a girl.” He refilled her flute with sparkling cider. “But that didn’t stop us from doing our brotherly duty of tormenting her every chance we got, despite the punishments we subjected ourselves to with our rowdiness.”

  “What did your punishments usually entail?”

  “Switches were a popular choice with my mom, but my dad preferred the firm application of his palm to our backsides.”

  She rubbed her arm. “My father preferred a belt.”

  After meeting her father at the family’s store the day before, he had a good idea why she seemed rattled at the memory. He touched her arm. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t believe in using those kinds of methods. There are more constructive ways to discipline a child than hurting them physically. I’ve learned a lot by watching my brother Jack with his son, Seth.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad we agree on that. I’ve been worried, wondering if our parenting styles and life philosophies will mesh. I know so little about you.”

  “That’s why we’re having this dinner.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “And many more to come, I hope.”

  Then Maria was back again, clearing their plates. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with dessert, hot from the oven. It’ll be worth the wait.”

  Hannah
’s attention slid to the darkening ranch beyond the artfully lit pool and patio. “This has been wonderful tonight. I’m absolutely taken with the Lucky C.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. So am I, actually. And I have a vision for this place, for the future,” he said. “The original reason I put that job ad in the classifieds.”

  “We’re finally getting around to that, then. I was wondering if you’d ever come clean with the truth about why you placed that job ad.”

  He felt a wince coming on and let it happen, poker face be damned, because he was ready to own up to his white lie. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d known all along he was fudging the truth with his job offer, as smart as she was. He’d told only Jack and their dad about his vision, and neither had been exactly encouraging. But if he wanted Hannah’s help, if he wanted her trust, then he had to trust her, too.

  “Yes, I am ready to own up to it, because the truth is that I still need your help with it, if you’re willing,” he said.

  “I’m willing.”

  “Hear me out first.”

  Maria hustled into the room, the scent of baked chocolate preceding her. In front of them, she set two bowls. “Brownies à la mode.”

  Brett didn’t recall Hannah’s orgasm face from their one-night stand, but he was willing to bet it looked a whole lot like the face she was making at that moment, looking down at her dessert. Of its own accord, his body stirred to life. Ignoring his physical response, he dug into his dessert.

  “You gonna be able to listen to my plan for the ranch or would I be better off waiting until your brownie-gasm ends?”

  “Brownie-gasm is right. I’ve had a lot of chocolate-gasms today, actually, between this and the cookies in my room. A girl could get used to that kind of twice-daily pleasure.”

  He was just starting to wrap his brain around the double entendre when she slapped both her hands over her face and groaned. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did.” She shook her head. “I mean, a girl could get used to—” She winced. “I’m going to shut up now. Please continue your story. Tell me your plans for the ranch’s future while I sit here and die of embarrassment.”