Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones 0f Texas Book 6)

by Sasha Summers

  Other than her cabin and truck, a storage facility and a car lot a county over, the tornado hadn’t left too much damage. While everyone was getting back to normal activities, she was trapped in Scarlett’s bed. Banshee was just as stir-crazy as she was, tugging her blankets and scratching the door. “Agreed,” she said to the dog. The doctor had said twenty-four to forty-eight hours of rest. She was calling it.

  As soon as Scarlett left for the afternoon kid activities, Tandy kicked back the covers and got dressed. Banshee’s tail was wagging a mile a minute when she pulled open the door. And came face-to-face with Click and Pearl.

  The last time she’d seen Click he’d been dusty and worn out, all but chased from the hospital by her aunt and uncle. Uncle Woodrow had wasted no time pointing out that he wasn’t family. She’d tried to argue, but Click had said, “Doc said quiet is what you need. I’ll check on you later.” He’d shot her a wink and slipped out.

  She’d missed him. And Pearl. She’d stared at her phone a time or two but couldn’t bring herself to text him.

  Now he was all pressed and starched, freshly shaven and smelling downright delicious. She swallowed, bombarded by a million conflicting emotions and sensations she wasn’t quite ready to face.

  “Ta-dee!” Pearl said, grinning from ear to ear. “Butter?”

  “Hi, precious Pearl.” She stooped, hugging the toddler close. “How are you?”

  Pearl nodded. “Ta-dee butter?”

  “She looks better,” Click said. “How do you feel?”

  “Oh, better?” Tandy stood. “Yes, feeling much better. Thank you, Pearl.”

  Click held out a huge bouquet of wildflowers. “Pearl picked them for you.”

  “Ba-shee,” Pearl said, hugging the dog.

  “Listen to you.” Tandy shook her head, taking the bouquet. “Banshee’s happy to see you, too. Thank you for the pretty flowers.”

  “Making a break for it?” Click asked.

  She frowned, suspicion creeping in. “Did Scarlett tell you to come babysit?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. We wanted to see you. And Banshee.” He nodded at Pearl, still hugging Banshee.

  Tandy smiled. “I need some fresh air. And space.” She pointed at the small suite Scarlett called home. “I don’t know where I’m going. Just out.”

  “We can help you with that.” His grin went straight to her heart.

  The last two days had been filled with thoughts of him. His blue-green eyes, the strength in his arms and his tattoo. She’d felt so locked in grief, convinced she was at fault for losing Amelia...convinced he’d never be able to look at her without resentment. Shutting him out had made it easier to shut out the truth: she’d lost everything—including hope.

  It might be easier to keep everyone out. But it was lonely, so lonely. She was tired of being alone. More important, she was tired of being without him.

  Click was Click. Being close to him always shook up her insides. Seeing him shirtless had stirred her senses. But seeing their daughter’s name, twined with hers, on his skin, had woken her heart. Somehow Click had managed to move on without pretending Amelia hadn’t existed. She was with him every day. Tandy had no idea how to do that. But she wanted to. She wanted to think about her baby with peace. The only time Tandy had had peace in the last two years was when he’d held her close in that damn storm shelter.

  Thinking of Amelia was still hard for her, too painful and raw. She couldn’t think about her. Or what they’d been through. It brought her to her knees and tore her to pieces. She refused to be that weak—that vulnerable.

  “Ta-dee?” Pearl lifted her little hands.

  Tandy scooped her up. “Ready to go bye-bye?”

  Pearl’s eyes filled instantly with tears. “No bye-bye.” She shook her head, her black curls bouncing.

  “No...” She looked at Click then. “No bye-bye.” She smiled.

  “No bye-bye,” Pearl agreed, burrowing against her. “No bye-bye.” One small hand tangled in her long hair.

  Click was watching, his brows drawn together.

  Tandy shrugged. “She doesn’t like that word. She cried last time I said it, too.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Pearl. Let’s go.”

  Click patted Pearl’s back. “Let’s take Tandy for a ride.”

  “Da-gee?” Pearl asked. “Bashee?”

  “Yep, Banshee is coming, too,” he said.

  Pearl nodded, sighed and rested her head on Tandy’s shoulder.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, leading her down the hall.

  “The cabin,” she said. “I need to see how salvageable it is. Or if I’m starting over. Again.” The thought of moving into the ranch house held no appeal. But real estate in Fort Kyle was lean, to put it kindly.

  “I’m no expert but...” he mumbled.

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “But I’ll take you,” he said. “You been resting?”

  It would have been easier to resist him if he wasn’t so hell-bent on taking care of her. At the hospital, he’d stayed at her bedside, held her hand through her stitches and taken notes on what the doctor said.

  She laughed, patting Pearl’s back. “Yes, I’ve been resting. I feel like a slug. So does Banshee. He was about to scratch his way through the door this morning.”

  “He’s too big a dog to stay cooped up.” He held the front door open for them. “He’s a damn good dog, Tandy.”

  “Remember what Scarlett said about being careful with your words?” She smiled. “He is a good dog. The best dog. Did I ever thank you for him?” she asked, a little distracted by the almost blue tones the sunlight picked up in his thick black hair.

  He glanced at her, his smile heart-stoppingly beautiful. “You’re welcome.” He opened the door of a brand-new dark blue four-door truck and stepped back.

  “Yours?” she asked, inspecting his ride with an appreciative eye. She nodded before leaning forward to strap Pearl into her car seat. Banshee jumped up and sat on the seat next to Pearl, earning him an adoring, “Bashee” from Pearl. “You keep Banshee company, okay, Pearl?” she said before climbing into Click’s truck. “I like it,” she said, running her hand along the interior. “New-car smell?” she said.

  He nodded, assessing the truck with a critical eye. “First time I’ve ever ridden in a new truck, let alone owned one. But it’s big enough for Pearl’s seat and has a hauling package.”

  She studied him, hoping there was more to this purchase than just a new car. “When are you going trailer shopping?”

  He grinned at her. “Soon, I guess. No rush.” His eyes narrowed. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” she asked.

  “Scarlett tells me Doc Edwards’s clinic is a mess.” He drove out the Fire Gorge parking lot and onto the road.

  She sighed. “I’m not beat yet. It’d help if he had equipment from this century.” She shook her head. “I miss the vet hospital. Everything I needed was within reach. There was a sense of purpose and drive. I don’t get that here. Half the time I feel like I’m the only one working. Even when Doc Edwards is there, he’s not really there, you know?”

  “So you’re picking up the slack?” he asked.

  “I’m not a DVM—there are some things I can’t do.” Not because she wasn’t capable, but because she was a rule follower. “But I do what I can. And then some.”

  His smile faded. “Guess you’re thinking about going back to Stonewall Crossing?”

  “It’s crossed my mind,” she admitted.

  “Gotta do what’s right for you,” he said, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.

  “I’m not leaving anytime soon. Like I said, I’m not beat yet.” She tried not to get hung up on his reaction.

  Those blue-green eyes glanced her way, his posture easing. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Mew-sik,”
Pearl said from the back seat. “Peez.”

  Tandy’s eyes went round. “Did you say please, Pearl?” She turned, staring at the grinning toddler in her seat. “Manners and brains.”

  “Peez peez,” Pearl chanted.

  Click chuckled, turning on the radio. Pearl started bouncing in her car seat and clapping her hands.

  “She really loves mew-sik, doesn’t she?” she asked him.

  “I’m sure the lullabies help,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I doubt that.”

  “I don’t,” he argued. “She asks for music whenever I put her down. I try but last night she covered my mouth.”

  Tandy was too surprised to stop her laugh from bubbling up. “She did not.”

  “She did.” His brow arched, the corner of his mouth kicking up. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny.” He looked younger when he smiled, like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And his laugh, rich and warm... She blew out a slow breath. He should laugh more. “Talk about dinging a man’s ego.”

  She grabbed his forearm. “I’m sorry.” But she kept laughing. Until his hand covered hers. If she was smart, she’d pull her hand away and shove the bubble of joy deep down inside. Except it was Click and his touch was magic. And deep down, she didn’t want to pull away. She twined her fingers with his and smiled.

  * * *

  CLICK WAS A happy man. Sitting here on a blanket, Tandy at his side, watching Banshee and Pearl trail after the goats was as perfect a day as he could imagine.

  “I was hoping it wasn’t this bad,” Tandy said, nodding at the pile of lumber that had been her home. “I’m not sure I can bear working for Doc Edwards all day and coming home to Uncle Woodrow every night.” She sighed.

  “Don’t blame you,” he said, trying to get the courage up to say what was on his mind.

  “Guess I could look in town,” she mumbled, plucking strands of grass absentmindedly. “Need to find a vehicle, too.”

  “Or you could stay here,” he said, shooting for casual—he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

  Her hazel-green eyes met his. “What?”

  “It’s a big house, Tandy. Pearl and I are in one of five bedrooms. There’s plenty of room.” He cleared his throat. He could get lost in those eyes.

  “Click, I can’t... We can’t...” She sputtered to a stop, stunned.

  “Besides, Banshee’s happy.” He nodded at the dog trailing after the goats. “So is Pearl.” He grinned, watching her trailing after Banshee. “You’re already helping me out.”

  “People would talk,” she said.

  His brows rose. “And you’d care?”

  She blew out a slow breath.

  “Think on it,” he said, pushing himself from the blanket to follow Pearl around the barn. He trusted Banshee, but there was no point tempting fate. The dog was tending the goats, someone needed to tend his daughter.

  He hadn’t expected Tandy to follow.

  “She keeps you on your toes,” Tandy said. “But it seems like you’ve found your groove.”

  He shook his head. “It does?” He chuckled. “Chalk it up to Pearl being so sweet-natured.”

  Pearl chose that moment to look their way. “Da da. Ta-dee,” she said, waving. “Come.”

  “We’re coming, cuddle bunny,” he said. “Almost nap time.”

  “Ta-dee sing?” Pearl said.

  “See?” He laughed, glancing at Tandy.

  She had her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the peals of laughter spilling from her lips. With the sun in her hair and her eyes alight with mischief, she’d never looked more beautiful. He stood, mesmerized by the vision she presented.

  “Damn, woman, you take my breath away.” He forced the words out.

  Her laughter stopped, a look of pure surprise settling on her features.

  “Ta-dee,” Pearl said, holding out a flower. “Night-night?” she said, toddling toward them. “Ta-dee sing.”

  “Yes,” Tandy said, kneeling and gathering her close. “I will sing you to sleep, cuddle bunny. Your daddy’s acting silly anyway. Maybe he needs a nap, too.”

  “I’m good,” he said, watching them walk into the house.

  Banshee circled him, then sat at his side.

  “Like the goats?” he asked the dog.

  Banshee barked.

  “Help me convince Tandy to stay and you can herd them all day long.” He rubbed the dog’s head.

  It was a long shot, but a guy could hope. With Tandy, he seemed to have an endless supply of hope. He stared at the back door, but decided following her was a bad idea. Because if he went after her, he might push—and things were going too well to risk it.

  “Let’s check on the horses,” he said to Banshee, walking the repaired fence line. The horses trotted up, saying hello to him and sniffing Banshee curiously. Banshee returned the favor. Click leaned against the fence, his eyes sweeping the property. He’d spent the last two days clearing any debris from the tornado. From metal stakes to clothing, he’d found all sorts of odds and ends. Domino and Blackjack had been spooked after the tornado, but no harm had been done and he wanted to keep it that way. He circled the entire corral before making his way back to the house.

  Tandy was in the kitchen. “Making tea,” she said. “Didn’t see any in the fridge.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “She go down okay?”

  She nodded, her smile returning. “Guess it was the singing?”

  He chuckled. “Low blow.”

  Banshee flopped onto the floor.

  “You wore him out,” she said, nodding at her dog.

  “Pearl has that effect on people,” he said, smiling as a soft snore rose from Banshee’s place in the corner.

  “Looks like the twister passed your place up.” She put the glass jar in the windowsill, in the sunlight, so the tea could steep. “Amazing how my little place toppled and yours didn’t get so much as a scratch.”

  “It did. One window,” he said, washing his hands in the sink. “Had a bunch of odds and ends turn up, though.”

  “Oh, like what?” she asked, handing him the kitchen towel.

  “A shoe. Some sort of hair...thing.”

  “Hair thing?” she asked, waiting.

  “To curl your hair,” he explained, loving the smile on her face.

  “A curling iron?” she asked. “Here’s hoping it wasn’t in use when it got sucked up inside the funnel cloud.”

  He nodded. “That’d be unfortunate.”

  She grinned, rinsing out a baby bottle.

  “You don’t have to do that.” He took the bottle from her, his hands closing over hers. She felt so good. “I didn’t bring you here to clean up after Pearl and me.”

  She leaned against the counter, her gaze searching his. “I don’t mind.”

  He stepped back, dropping the bottle back into the sink, and putting space between them. “Maybe I do. It wasn’t that long ago you were bleeding all over me, remember?”

  She smiled. “I guess I owe you an undershirt.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t owe me a thing.”

  He hadn’t planned on standing there, staring at her. But he did. And she stayed where she was, looking right back. The longer she stared at him, the harder it was to stay put. His fingers itched to touch her, his arms ached to hold her close...

  “I’m happy you’re doing this, Click,” she said. “I think Lynnie would be thrilled to know she’d given you your dream.”

  He swallowed, nodding. “Almost.”

  Tandy’s brow furrowed. “Almost?” She nodded. “I guess dreams change over time—”

  “Mine hasn’t. I still want what I always wanted.” He took a step closer, his heart pounding.

  “But... This is what you wanted,” she said. “Your own place, training cu
tting horses, doing it your way—”

  “With you,” he said.

  She blinked rapidly, her gaze falling from his. “Even now?” The question was a broken whisper.

  He closed the distance between them but didn’t touch her. “Always.”

  She looked up at him. “How? How can you look at me and not hurt? When...after... How do you get up, keep going and not ache?”

  “I do, of course I do.” His hand cradled her cheek. “Every day. She left a hole in my heart, one that’ll never be filled. But looking at you...” He stepped closer. “Damn, Tandy, being away from you nearly broke me. Now, I look at you and miss what we had.”

  “We can’t go back.” She blinked, tears falling down her cheek.

  His thumb wiped her tears away. “You’ll never move forward if you keep holding on so tight. If you can’t accept it wasn’t your fault, then learn to forgive yourself. Our baby girl was stillborn, Tandy. You didn’t cause that. I still cry, I still hurt, but I’ve made peace.” He cleared his throat, fighting the tightness. “We both lost her. But you don’t have to lose me, too. I’m here. And I still love you.”

  Tandy cradled his face between her hands, her thumb running across his lips. “You do?”

  “I’ll always love you,” he said, clasping her hand and kissing her palm and the inside of her wrist.

  She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

  Click pulled her against him. “I wish I could take the pain away, Tandy, with all my heart.”

  She cried, gripping his shirt and pressing her mouth to his shoulder. His arms pressed her tight, knowing she needed this but hating the depths of her grief. She sobbed, her arms twining about his waist, gripping his belt for support.

  “I got you,” he said, burying his face in her hair. “I won’t let you go.” He scooped her up and carried her into the front parlor. He sat cradling her close, rocking her, until she’d cried herself dry.