The old farmhouse loomed ahead. An old beat up truck along with the red truck she’d seen him driving sat in the driveway. She parked in between the two vehicles and killed the engine.
She didn’t get out immediately, but sat staring at the house that had lost its charm under chipped paint and overgrown weeds. It needed painted, white again with black shutters, and colorful flowers to add life. Some of the posts were gone from the railing on the porch and the rockers had seen better days—or years. This home was so unlike Tucker and Hope’s where everything was well-maintained and cheerful.
Climbing out, her stomach flip flopped and she demanded her body to stop reacting.
Breathing in the fresh air, her lungs thanked her. The environment was motivating, encouraging. She wanted to do more, be more. She had to prove to herself that she could reach her goals and that she was ready to start all over again.
Smoothing her shirt, she slowly made her way up the crumbled sidewalk, just as sprinkles started. Grey clouds were rolling through and the sky quickly turned dark. The breeze picked up, scattering goosebumps all over her skin and she wrapped her arms tight around her waist. A storm was building. And it looked like it was going to be a bad one.
A nuzzle against her leg brought her attention to a shaggy-looking dog who was staring up at her, his tongue hanging out. “Hello there. You’re awfully cute.” She stroked behind his ear, getting a panting smile in return. Once upon a time, as a kid, she had a dog. Going from place to place, she missed out on so many things, like having animals.
Hearing heavy thuds on the ground, she watched the horses galloping by the fence, their tails blowing in the wind and their ears perked. They knew a storm was brewing. Lightening flashed in the distance, lighting the sky. She jumped and ran to the porch. Yeah, it definitely looked like Mother Nature had an axe to grind.
She had her hand in mid-air, ready to knock when the door swung open. Cash stood on the other side of the screen and her body came alive—her breath caught, her nipples bunched. The man had control over her.
“You might not want to stand there too much longer. A good wind’ll come along and carry you off.” The rich tone of his voice made her blood pump faster and her knees weak. He opened the door with his foot, the springs creaked and cracked in resistance.
Dakota swept her gaze over him. She couldn’t have prevented a peek if she’d tried. Standing well over six feet, his dark hair was damp and droplets of water splashed onto his shoulders, dampening his black T-shirt. His clear blue eyes were on her, pensive and observant. Could he see straight into her and see the throbbing in secret parts of her body? The cowboy should have a warning label, ‘danger…touch at your own risk of combustion’. One corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smile, but a playful grin that seemed connected with a string to her core. The laugh lines were the only thing that softened his rough and rugged features. His mouth—delectable and perfect, even when frowning—was shaped for kissing. She remembered how good his tongue felt, his lips teasing and warm. She swept her gaze over his strong, stubbled jaw. He hadn’t shaven and the tips of her fingers ached to touch the dark shadow. He had broad shoulders—wide and strong. She refused to look at the shiny belt buckle, although it beckoned her.
Dragging her mind back on track, which wasn’t an easy task through the fuzziness of her brain, she glued her gaze to his and demanded no more glimpses. “It came on so quickly.”
“What did?”
She moistened her lips. “The storm.” And the turmoil scorching me from inside out.
“Welcome to Texas.” He stepped back, allowing her to pass.
Stepping into the foyer, she got a whiff of spice and leather. It did unmentionable things at the apex of her thighs and triggered a craving. She chastised her body for reacting to a man who was nearly a stranger, even if his kiss still lingered in her mind. It didn’t help that in her dreams last night, he only wore a five o’clock shadow. Her cheeks warmed and she turned away, afraid he’d see her flush, and scanned the pictures covering one wall. Family photos. The largest was of Cash and a woman. Dakota knew it had to be his late wife . She had long, dark hair, pretty blue eyes, and a smile that echoed happiness. Becca did look like her mother.
Dakota turned back. “I don’t hear Becca.”
“She isn’t home yet. A friend is having a birthday party. She should be home soon though.”
They were alone. She shifted in her sandals. “Maybe I should have called first.” Wisps of misbehaving hair floated around her cheek and she pushed them aside with shaking fingers.
“That’s okay. I forgot all about the party, but thankfully I have a handful of mothers who keep me notified.”
I bet you do. “That’s very nice of them.”
“Would you like something to drink? Beer, sweet tea?”
“Tea would be great.” She started to follow him down the hall and saw her reflection in the mirror above the table. Her skin was the color of milk. His back was still to her and she quickly rubbed her cheeks, bringing some life back to her skin. One second she flushed from roots to toes, then the next. weak and trembling. She couldn’t get this much entertainment on the world’s largest roller coaster.
Inside the kitchen, she was glad for the space of the large room. Wide windows lined one side and the rain pelted the glass. The white countertops were stained and chipped in spots, and had seen better days.. The floor was a rustic wood and matched the cabinets that could use a coat of paint. She imagined how this room would look with a modern touch. Cash probably didn’t have much chance to cook, let alone think about updating the antique stove and refrigerator. What mattered…the house was clean, surprisingly so.
He opened the refrigerator and bent over, her gaze automatically falling to his bottom—nice and tight, a rancher’s bottom. He spent time in the saddle and it showed. He stood up and she dragged her attention upward along his broad back fitted in the close-fitting T-shirt, to wide shoulders and a head full of dark hair that had dried and now hung on his forehead in sinful disarray. She bet he didn’t go without a hat much, but he had nice silky hair. Dakota found it impossible that a woman hadn’t come along and sunk her nails into him—literally. Nice looking, kind, and a good father…what was there not to like?
She had her doubts that he was over his late wife. From all of the pictures still hanging in the hallway, untouched and lined with dust, the only thing that did need cleaned, she’d say he was far from being over his loss.
He poured tea from a large pitcher into a glass, his bicep bulged and strained against the cotton shirt. Part of a tattoo dipped below the stitching and she followed the dark ink until it looped back inside the material. She couldn’t get a good enough look to make out what it was, but she wanted to find out.
Who would have guessed she’d crave a cowboy? Her Aunt Delores must have known. Dakota couldn’t count the number of times Delores had hinted that she should move back to Texas, a place recognized for its variety of everything big—ranches, trucks, and looking at one now, cowboys.
Cash handed her the glass of tea, the ice clanged and she accepted it, their fingers brushing. A scorching heat zoomed through her veins and her already tight nipples tingled.
Yes, this should be interesting to see how long she could go without making a dang fool of herself.
“Have a seat,” he offered.
That was a good idea. Otherwise her knees might give out.
Chapter Five
Cash leaned against the counter in the kitchen, watching Dakota take a sip of tea. He noticed the trembling in her hand and wondered if she was nervous about being here with him? Hell, he couldn’t deny that his nerves weren’t as cool as normal. It’d been a long time since he’d had a woman, one not related, here in his home.
Feeling confined, he rolled up his sleeves and took a long drink of his beer, hoping it would ease the burn in his skin.
He followed the feminine lines of Dakota’s face. From the wisps of hair framing her pink cheeks, pert nos
e, and cherub’s bow mouth, she was pretty, that’s for damned sure. He wanted to follow the sleek line of her neck, to the wide V of her shirt, but he refused the temptation. He didn’t need to look to know that her small, firm breasts pressed the thin material, her nipples were pebbled. The parts behind his zipper jerked and he blew out a long breath. He appreciated a beautiful woman, especially one who had no clue just how sexy she was or how much she affected him.
She shifted in the wooden chair and his gaze dropped to her red painted toenails. She had nice feet. When had he ever noticed a woman’s feet? Never. He found the thought humorous.
He was grateful when lights flashed through the window. If anything could dull the ache in his body for Dakota, it was his daughter. Even thinking of a sexy woman in the same sentence as his daughter did flaccid things to him.
“Becca’s here. I’ll be right back.”
Dakota nodded. “Sure.”
Cash met his daughter at the door. She had her hands full of birthday swag and a million dollar smile. “Guess what, daddy? Guess what?”
“What?” He tousled her messy hair.
“I got to pet a puppy. They have five. Really! Five puppies in all. Can I have one?” Her eyes were as bright a cloudless sky.
Cash scrubbed his jaw. If he had a quarter for every time his daughter asked for a puppy he could take early retirement. “We will talk about it later.”
Her nose wrinkled and her shoulders slumped. “That means no.”
“It means I’ll think about it. We have company.” He tapped the end of her nose.
Some of the frown disappeared. “Who, daddy?”
“Dakota.”
Her eyes rounded and lit. “Really?”
“She’s in the kitchen.” The words were barely out before Becca darted down the hall, dropping the birthday bag on the way sending the contents scattering before she disappeared into the kitchen. Cash smiled and shook his head. He wished Becca would get that happy seeing him. Damn, he knew how his daughter felt. His insides did the same when he saw Dakota.
Stepping into the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks. Becca had climbed onto Dakota’s lap and seemed, well, right where she belonged. His throat constricted. Becca didn’t know a stranger—or was Dakota different? He’d never seen his daughter take up with someone so quickly.
“Can we make cookies?” Becca asked, bouncing on Dakota’s knee.
“I-I don’t know…” Dakota met Cash’s gaze in question.
“Becca, you can’t ask everybody to make cookies,” Cash said.
“But she knows how. She said so.” Becca’s bottom lip slightly puckered.
“Dakota is here to help you pick out clothes.” Cash couldn’t miss the sassy tilt of his daughter’s chin.
“I don’t want clothes.” Becca slipped off Dakota’s lap.
Cash sighed. “Then you’ll wear the dresses in your closet? They are big enough to wear a few more months.”
Becca’s face softened. “I guess I need some things.”
Dakota, who had been watching quietly, finally said, “If it’s okay, Becca and I could make cookies and, while they’re baking, we can jump online and do some shopping.”
Becca liked the idea because the glint to her eye returned. Cash nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all. I like baking cookies.” Dakota patted Becca’s hand.
Twenty minutes later, when the house smelled like a bakery and he heard Becca and Dakota talking about colors and sizes, Cash stood outside of his office, listening and examining his thoughts.
He went back to the kitchen and reached for another beer from the fridge, but then had a second thought. He grabbed water instead. He unscrewed the lid and downed it, crushing the plastic in his fist. Instead of going back to his office and standing in the doorway, sneaking peeks at the beautiful woman sitting with his daughter, he needed fresh air. He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. Damn, he’d almost forgotten the meeting with Brody this evening.
Throwing the smashed bottle in the trash, he marched down the hall and stopped at the threshold into his office. Becca sat next to Dakota, their shoulders touching and heads leaned close. They could be mother and daughter. His throat constricted and his heart skipped ten beats. He didn’t realize he’d made a low groaning noise until Dakota lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. His gut clenched. “I have a meeting.”
“Oh okay,” she said.
“I had planned on taking Becca with me, but looks like you two will be at this for a while longer.”
“I can stay with her. We can finish up here and I’ll put away the cookies.”
“I should only be gone an hour, give or take.”
She smiled and he had a strong urge to kiss her. “No problem. Is there anything I need to know?”
His mouth thinned. “Need to know?”
“Bedtime? Bath?” Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she could see straight into his thoughts.
He blew out a long breath. “Yes, bedtime. By seven-thirty. And only one cookie and one bedtime story. Otherwise she’ll have you reading an entire chapter book.”
Becca wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to go to bed then? Dalton gets to stay up later.”
Cash nodded. “Yes, young lady, you do. Dalton is older. I’ll tuck you in when I get back.”
“If you say so,” Becca huffed.
“I’m pretty good at reading bedtime stories. Maybe I can read your favorite?” Dakota offered and Becca’s eyes twinkled.
Seeing that things were covered, Cash reluctantly left them. He wanted to stay and see just how good of a bedtime story teller Dakota could be.
Stepping out onto the porch, he crossed the rickety boards. As they creaked under his weight, he was reminded that parts of the house—more like most of it— needed repaired before it all came crashing down around his ears. They’d started remodeling the old place when Rebecca was still alive, but after she’d passed, things seemed to slow, or rather, come to a complete stop. Now that it was only Becca and him, he’d forgotten some of the important things—things beyond a leaky faucet and washing dishes.
Having Dakota here, he suddenly wished he’d taken the time to finish the work. Did she think he was lazy? Or just didn’t care? Neither had been the issue, but without someone to help decide on the color of paint and the type of flooring, he was lost.
How would he ever find a woman who wanted to share his life, share Becca’s life, if he’d let so many things tumble to the ground? Hope was right, the time had come to start thinking of his future. Not just for his sake, but for his daughter’s sake too. Before he knew it, in the blink of an eye, she’d be a teenager and she’d have questions—about her body, boys, and clothing—and he’d have no idea how to answer them. Hell, he didn’t understand the desire for fashionable clothing or the difference between a French braid and, well, whatever other braids there were. He pretty much sucked at anything feminine, except how to treat a lady. That he knew because he’d had a good role model growing up. His dad had been the best.
When it came to boys, what would he tell Becca? “Men are no good until they started thinking with their brain and not their dick.” No, that wouldn’t go over so well. Lately, he’d proven a man was incapable of thinking only with their brain.
Tugging his hat on, he rubbed his tired eyes.
The moon was bright and, in the distance, he could hear coyotes howling. His old dog, Chett, came up, nuzzling his head against Cash’s leg. He rubbed his head and patted his back. “You keeping the house protected boy?”
A crackling of rocks made Chett stiffen. The hairs on his back stood straight up and he growled deep in his chest. “It’s okay, boy.” Cash grabbed his collar as headlights came up the driveway.
The car parked and the lights went out. Cash narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure he’d told Brody to meet him by the stables. The moonlight gave him a clear path to the fence and he saw a silhouette, and it certainly wasn’t a brawny cowboy. So who was it? Chet
t wouldn’t respond this way if he recognized the person’s scent.
“Whoever the hell is coming on my property better speak up before I let this dog take care of the problem.”
The sound of crushed pebbles grew louder as the person walked closer.
He stood motionless as the moon washed over the slender figure moving toward the porch—a woman. The lighting brushed across her features. He watched with a thick tongue, his head numbing. Her long hair hung in ringlets down her shoulders and she wore a black jacket and jeans.
His stomach kicked and he stepped off the porch, the bottom step creaking loudly in the silence. He struggled to get his breath. It was the woman he’d seen at the funeral and again today at Becca’s school.
“Rebecca?” The name fell off his lips.
She wasn’t real. His brain played tricks on his heart. What the hell was wrong with him?
But Chett saw her too. The dog still growled.
“I know. I look like her.”
She spoke. He heard it.
His gut clenched. “Who—who are you?”
Then she was close enough that he could make out her face. She didn’t look as much like Rebecca as he first thought, but enough that it unsettled him.
“I’m Kennedy.”
He tossed the name around inside of his head. It didn’t ring a bell. “I never heard of you.” He forced the words through tight lips.
“Rebecca called me Kenny. When we were kids she couldn’t pronounce her Ds.”
“Kenny?” Then it came to him. And every muscle in his body tightened and he flexed his hands into fists. “Rebecca’s sister.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?” He kept his voice steady, belying the upheaval in him. He knew a part of the history between Rebecca and her sister, and it wasn’t good. “And why in the hell are you following me?”
“I think you must already know.”
His throat tightened. “You’re a bit late for your sister’s funeral!” He gritted his teeth.
“That’s not very fair, now is it?” She sounded like Rebecca too. His mind swirled.
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