by Hebby Roman
“Yep,” he said matter-of-factly. “At least give me a chance. I’ve got a lot to make up for. This is me wooing you. It’s what couples do. ”
Kristen stared at him in shock as the words circled in her head. Did he actually just say woo? Despite the old-fashioned reference, her heart skipped a beat and then began a thunderous roar in her ears. “What couples do? One kiss and we are dating?”
“You tell me.” He stepped closer. He raised his hand and gently tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear, then grazed the tip of his fingers along her jawline. “It was one hell of a kiss.”
Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across hers, in a soft whisper. The kiss deepened, still gentle, yet an underlying current of urgency charged the air. Needles of awareness coursed just below her skin.
What was this? More jokes at my expense?
The thought repeated itself, registering a fear that was all too familiar. She took a step back, holding him at bay with an outstretched hand. The heat of his skin burned through his shirt, highlighting the firm, muscled chest beneath her palms.
The warmth of his fingers grazed her chin and he drew her close again. Arousal electrified the air between him and he leaned in, his lips brushing hers with another chaste, tender kiss.
“Damn Kit Kat. Save something for dessert.”
She tilted her head and was locked into his whiskey-tinted gaze. A roguish wink emphasized the daring statement. Before she could reply, the warmth of his hand grasped hers and she was being led toward the kitchen. A small table, loaded with plates of salad sat before them.
“You actually made me dinner?” she asked in disbelief. Her mind struggled to make sense of this all. The man who stood before her was the complete opposite of the kid who used to make her life a living hell.
‘Yep. I have a few steaks on the grill.” He shrugged, pointing to the deck on the other side of a large, sliding glass door, partially open.
Kristen inhaled a deep breath of the intoxicating scent of steak grilling and her stomach growled in response. At the moment, the past hardly mattered. Whatever he was cooking beat another candy bar and she was far too hungry to rehash the many ways Cole had tortured her.
He pulled out a chair, offering a seat. “Is steak and salad okay?”
“As long as you didn’t poison it.” Kristen sat down. She glanced at the plate. Fresh veggies smothered in ranch dressing and cheese? How could she refuse? She grabbed a fork, then paused, using the prongs to comb through green, leafy lettuce. Figuring it was probably safe to eat, she shoveled in a large bite.
“This is strange. I never expected to be sitting in the devil’s den.”
He stiffened, swallowing hard before a wicked grin spread across his face. Not only did the smile make him even more handsome, the action confirmed her observation. Desire hummed throughout her body. The man made her want to sin. Needing the distraction, she swallowed another forkful of salad.
“I used to think the same thing when my dad was alive.”
Kristen dropped her fork, choking on a chunk of tomato. In a matter of seconds, she’d brought up bad memories, plus managed to insult the man in one fatal swoop. The devils den? This is what being around Cole did to her. Made her mouth lose control and voice things better left unsaid. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. I should have never said something so callous.”
“Don’t be. My dad would’ve loved the comparison. Maybe I’ll get a sign made. I could hang it above the door. A warning to the angel I’m trying to lure over to the dark side.”
Though he hadn’t said her name, the implication was clear. She knew this was too good to be true. The old Cole had made a debut. His sharp wit, a painful reminder she was in over her head.
“Ha. Ha. Funny. We both know I’m no angel.”
“You can’t be,” he teased. “Not the way you kiss. As far as I’m concerned, you belong in my den.” He rose and walked to the sliding glass doors leading to the porch. Though his words were spoken in jest, they shook her to the core.
As he walked out to the grill, a cool breeze filtered in. What if there were some truth to what he said? There was something between them, a weird connection, even if it was simply temptation. Her breath hitched and she attempted to blink the thought away. The last thing she needed was to decipher her tumultuous attraction to the handsome cowboy. She’d spent most of her teenage years trying to figure that one out.
“How do you like your ribeye cooked? Right now, they’re medium to medium well. I prefer mine with a little pink.”
She watched as he flipped the steak. With his back to her, she had an unhindered view of the backside of his Levi’s, and to put it frankly, she wasn’t disappointed. So much for blinking thoughts away.
He spun to face her, repeating the question. “Kristen? Medium or well done?”
The question caught her attention. Steak. Yes. A much safer subject. “Medium well please.” Get a grip, Kristen. This is dinner. Just dinner. “I never thought I’d see this day. You cooking me a meal? And steak? I was pretty sure you had an aversion to meat.”
“I got over it.” He shrugged.
Cole turned off the grill, placed the steaks on a plate, and carried the food to the table. He set it down in the center, then slid the door closed. He grabbed two beers out of the fridge. Twisting off the cap, he handed one of the long neck bottles to her and sat down.
Kristen placed her fork on the side of her plate and accepted the beer. She took a sip before responding. “I’m not so sure Chrissy feels the same way.”
“You talking about George?” He cut into his steak again and stabbed the piece with his fork.
“Yeah. We had a conversation this afternoon. She was pretty upset.”
“She’ll get over it too,” Cole replied flatly, then changed the subject. “How’s Miranda treating you?”
The lack of compassion shocked her. Cole, of all people, should be able to relate to the way his niece felt. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. My sister can be pretty bossy. I was wondering how you two are getting along.”
Kristen’s mouth fell open. “I was talking about Chrissy.”
“Oh. I thought we were done with that subject.” He placed his eating utensils on the plate. He took a long pull of his beer, then leaned back in the seat and folded his arms over his chest. “Truth is, she needs to get tougher skin. First rule of ranching—don’t get attached. The sooner she deals with that kind of thing, the better.”
“Like you did? Now who’s being callous? I can’t believe you can brush this off so easily.” Kristen stared at him in disbelief. A rush of childhood memories consumed her thoughts. Cole at the center. She inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. “Do you know why I became a vet in the first place? It was because of you. Seeing you so upset about losing an animal broke my heart. I don’t want to see a young girl go through the same thing.”
“I was a kid.” He shrugged as if her words meant nothing at all. The nonchalant response grated at her nerves.
“And Chrissy’s not?” She pushed the plate away, suddenly losing her appetite.
“Look, I know you are upset, but Chrissy and I talked about this before I even let her have the steer. I told her what to expect. She’s been around this all of her life. She knows what’s in store.” He picked up the fork and knife again. Cutting a corner of the steak off, he popped it into his mouth. “We raise beef. It’s a business. A damn good one. ‘Sides this was her idea. Do you have any idea how many hungry kids a fifteen hundred pound steer can feed?”
Kristen studied Cole’s face as she deciphered the words. Though she worried about the girl’s attachment, the man was right. Such was the life of a rancher. However, her emotions ran high. Cole hadn’t seen the tears in Chrissy’s eyes. Or felt the girl’s torment. There had to be something she could do.
An idea popped into her head, refusing to go away. There was one thing she could do. “I should go. I’m tired and I ma
y be taking it out on you. Thank you for the meal. It was very thoughtful. I can see my way out,” Kristen quickly excused herself, rushing from Cole’s home before she said something she would regret.
Chapter Six
After hours of tossing and turning, Cole finally gave up the battle and crawled out of bed before the sun had even rose. Didn’t matter if he were attempting to sleep, thoughts of Kristen ate at him, pecking away at his sanity.
What he’d planned as a romantic date had backfired. Unfortunately, Kristen had been right. He hadn’t taken Chrissy’s feelings into consideration. And instead of admitting the fault, he’d feigned indifference, and came off as heartless.
I’ve officially turned into my father.
Shamefully, talking about it brought up too many painful memories. Losing Odie still haunted him. Especially considering the cruel way his father had informed him—after he’d eaten a plateful of the beloved pet.
The act had been done to toughen him up. Make a real rancher out of him. Or so his father said. And with time, the ruthless lesson had worked. He’d kept a rein on his emotions, never opening his heart to that kind of pain again. At least when it came to the steers. But, the thought of Chrissy going through something so difficult twisted his insides. Even if it was a part of this lifestyle.
He made his way to the barn, in hopes an early morning ride would help clear his mind. Blue, never far behind, followed close on his heels. The first stall housed a shy gray mare who whickered in greeting as soon as he entered the barn. He handed her the carrot he’d brought and then ran his hand down her neck.
After months of trying to gain her trust, Macy had begun to accept him. By her reception this morning, she seemed to be warming up to Blue also.
How was it possible he had the magical ability to calm the most skittish of horses, and yet, scare the dickens out of the woman who captivated his heart? Last night she had bolted as if he were the devil in disguise. Of course, her departure had been shortly after their conversation about George.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t blame her. All he needed was a pair of horns to complete the transformation. Cole brushed the mare down, then saddled her for the ride. Once outside, he inhaled a chilly breath of hay and the country. Though the sky was still a heavy periwinkle, streaks of pink and orange had started to debut.
Embracing the solitude, he mounted the mare and headed toward the back of his property to check the fencing. After a few moments of a casual walk, he spurred her into a brisk canter as Blue kept up with the three-beat gait. Better enjoy this now. Later he’d be busy. Unfortunately, loading Chrissy’s steer in the trailer was at the top of the list.
Kristen’s words repeated themselves and the guilt returned, burning in his gut. According to her, the moment the bidding started, the girl would be in tears. At this point, it was too late anyway. The auction was this afternoon. Not sure what else to do, he channeled his thoughts on how he could make this less painful for his niece. He could load George in the trailer before Chrissy arrived so at least she wouldn’t have to endure that aspect of the process.
Nearing the back of his property, he halted Macy, and quickly dismounted. Dropping the reins to allow the mare to graze, he cast a steely gaze along the fencing. He tugged on one of the five strands of barbed wire to test the tautness of the barrier.
Satisfied, he grabbed Macy’s reins again and walked along the perimeter for a bit to assess the rest of the fencing. After fifteen minutes or so, he decided all was well and remounted the horse to head back home.
By the time he reached the barn, Chrissy was already in the holding pen preparing George for show. After seeing to his horse, he joined his foreman, Denny, at the gate.
Cole folded his arms over top bar of the fencing and placed the toe of his boot on the bottom rung. He stationed a gaze on his niece and her pet. As she combed the animal’s pelt, the steer attempted to nuzzle her neck causing a giggle to escape the girl. He was a blind fool. They obviously shared a stronger bond than he wanted to admit. “How long has she been here?”
“I’m thinking about an hour or so. Not certain though. For all I know she could’ve spent last night in the barn. You know how attached she is to that steer.” The cowhand followed suit, leaning his weight against the metal barrier. “The girl’s got a rough day ahead of her.”
“I know,” Cole drawled. Damn. Even Denny couldn’t turn his head from the bond they shared. He pulled his attention away from Chrissy and onto the older man.
The foreman had been a member of his crew for a long time. And his father’s before him. Years past his prime, he was still one hell of a ranch hand, and loyal to a fault. He knew without question the man would do what he asked without judgement or condemning his decision.
“You think you can do me a favor, Denny?”
“Anything boss.” The aged cowboy stationed a wise, gray stare in his direction.
“I want you to replace George with another steer.” He nodded his head in the direction of the animal.
“As much as I’d like to, I can’t. Not with a good conscience. She’d never be allowed to participate again. You know the rules. Part of the Junior Livestock Program requires Chrissy to show the animal she raised.”
Cole grimaced. The foreman was right. However, there wasn’t anything in the rule book about who bought the steer. Especially if the buyer wasn’t a blood relative. “Then make sure you are the highest bidder. I don’t care how much it costs.”
“Consider it done,” the foreman replied with a firm nod. “I’ll go ready the trailer.”
Cole returned his gaze to Chrissy as she brushed the large steer. For a moment, he second guessed his rash decision. If his father were still alive, he’d never hear the end of it. Such a choice would have never been acceptable to A. J. Lawson. Not that it mattered much. Nothing he ever did had been deemed worthy, though not from a lack of effort on Cole’s part. Hell, even though the ranching legend was long gone, he was still trying to gain the man’s approval.
A flush of repressed memories came to life. At least he could spare Chrissy the pain of losing a pet she loved.
Chapter Seven
Cole gazed at the crowd, targeting on the tall frame of his foreman. The man locked gazes with him, then nodded. Though not against the Junior Livestock program rules, bidding on Chrissy’s steer would be frowned upon.
However, he couldn’t stand to see his niece heartbroken. Especially considering Chrissy hadn’t said much during the ride to the fairgrounds. Biting his tongue and not telling her of his plans had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
When they’d parted ways, the teen had walked tall, but now her shoulders were rigid as she led George out onto the dirt floor of the stadium. Exhibiting both confidence and grace, she stationed the show stick to make sure the steer’s front legs were even and the back two were separated.
The auctioneer announced George’s weight at a hearty thirteen hundred and seven pounds and even from where Cole stood the animal showed a great deal of appeal. Those who knew sound cattle would be interested. Worry twisted his gut, gnawing at his insides. Denny might have a battle on his hands.
The auction began and after fifteen minutes or so of bantering back and forth, his fear came to light as the foreman swiftly lost to an unknown buyer. Cole caught Chrissy’s tearful gaze as she led the steer from the platform and the sight made his heart lurch in his chest. So much for sparing Chrissy.
He trailed his gaze over the crowd, not landing on anyone in particular. What happened? Denny had been on top of it. How could he have been outbid? He shook his head, pledging to find the buyer, and pay double, or even trade some of his stock, to get the steer back. Struggling to get through the mob, he headed to the holding pen to comfort his niece. As he stepped into the barn, he saw the long, lean shadow of his foreman.
“You just missed her,” Denny informed him. “Miranda already took her home.”
“Great,” a curse escaped him. “
How could you let someone outbid you?” Cole questioned, piercing his foreman with a hateful glare, before shifting his stare toward George. He glanced at his truck and trailer, contemplating on taking the steer back home. To hell with the rules.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Denny warned, reading his mind. “You don’t want Chrissy to get kicked out of the program. ‘Sides, I got the name and address of the person who bought George. You could call tonight or settle in the morning. I’m sure the buyer won’t object to trading up for the steer. If that doesn’t work, there’s always the almighty dollar. Not many say no to cash.” The man stepped forward and slapped a piece of paper onto his palm.
Cole glanced down and immediately saw red. Scrawled in black and white was Kristen Kelly’s signature.
* * *
Though Kristen knew nothing about cows, especially a thirteen hundred pound steer, she refused to break a young girls heart. Despite the rash decision, she’d been determined to purchase the animal, bidding against another persistent bidder until the auctioneer had deemed her the new owner.
Humming with unbridled energy, she’d driven home with thoughts of surprising Chrissy when the steer arrived. She could make up an excuse on why she needed the teen’s help around the house and then lead the unsuspecting girl to the barn or something.
Suddenly, a dark thought consumed her. What if Cole or Chrissy didn’t want the steer? Then she’d truly be the owner of the large beast. Didn’t matter. She shook off the negativity.
Whatever happened, she’d make do. Having an animal around might actually be nice. Maybe give her a break from all of the home improvements. And she had plenty of acreage. Perhaps she’d even get another cow to keep it company. Or better yet, use the steer as bait to lure Laney into coming home. Her sister had always wanted a farm.
As Kristen turned onto the county road leading home, a part of her wanted to stop by Cole’s and tell him what she’d done. More to rub it in the man’s face. But such an impulsive act would have repercussions.