Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1)

by Martha Shields

  “Coffee?”

  Hank hoped the intensity in his body didn’t show in his face as he met her eyes. “Sure.” He had to force his muscles to relax before he could bend enough to settle in the chair. As he sat, she set the coffee cup next to his plate. He found it strong and black, just the way he liked it.

  He picked up the fork and dug into the pie. She sat quietly across from him, sipping a glass of ice water. He ate steadily, trying not to dwell on how her eyes followed every trip of the fork from the plate to his mouth.

  He finally set the fork across the plate, took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. “About this trip to Laramie...”

  She sat up. “Is it okay? I don’t want to usurp your authority, but it seemed to mean a lot to Claire, and I wanted to help.”

  “You don’t have to give up your day off to chaperone a couple of silly girls on a shopping trip. They can make do with—”

  “I don’t mind. Really. I mean, I don’t have anything else to do. Unless you’d rather they didn’t go at all.”

  Hank shook his head. “I’m not a monster, no matter what she says. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to set a couple of girls loose in a rough cow town like Laramie. If you’ll go with them, I’m happy. When she came back upstairs, I was trying to figure out how I could get my chores done so I could take them.”

  Alex cocked her head. “Does Claire know that?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think it’d help if you told her?”

  He frowned. “Why would it?”

  She looked down, then back at him, then away again.

  “Go ahead and say it before you bust a gut,” he said.

  She sighed. “What the heck, all you can do is fire me. Then you’d be out the money you paid for my radiator. Mind if I give you a little friendly advice?”

  “How friendly you talking about?”

  . “I’ve noticed that you’re not too good at telling people the why of things. You just give an order and expect it to be obeyed.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m the boss.”

  “Of Claire?”

  “I’m her legal guardian for another couple of months. I don’t think I’ve done such a bad job raising her and Travis.”

  “No, you haven’t. She’s a beautiful young lady. It’s just that she’s about grown up. If you would explain things to her, let her know what’s going on, she’d understand why you’re making her do the things you do, or not letting her do the things she can’t. Open up a little. You’d probably be surprised at how much closer you’ll be.” She smiled wryly. “It’d work with the hands, too, you know. I’m sure you have good reasons for the orders you give. If you told them why they’re cleaning the tack for the second time that day, they probably wouldn’t grumble so much.”

  He leaned back in his chair, as if he could get away from her words. Alex had just described his father. John Eden had never explained anything. Never told the crew why they had to work through lunch. Never told his sons he was proud of them, or that he loved them.

  If Hank could dive into his gene pool and zap the genes he’d gotten from his father, he would. Hank had sworn years ago that he’d never walk in John Eden’s boots. He would’ve punched any cowpoke that claimed he did.

  Hank looked down at the arm he’d placed alongside his plate and saw that his hand was only inches from Alex’s. Funny, he didn’t feel like punching her. His fingers ached to stretch out and touch her helping hand. For the first time in eight years he had someone to help him, especially with Claire. Oh, the other cooks helped some, but only because they’d been paid to. None would’ve considered giving up their day off for a twelve-hour drive with two giggling teenagers. He felt a tiny bit of the weight on his shoulders lift, and the heat that had centered in one part of his anatomy spread throughout his body, warming even the marrow of his bones.

  “I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn,” she said into the silence. “And if the thought of talking to Claire is that hard, I’ll tell her that you were planning to—”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s...too complicated to go into.” Damn, he was clamming up again—just like his father. He drew breath to explain further and was relieved when Alex spoke first.

  “If all this was so much trouble, why did you insist Claire go to the prom?”

  Hank straightened in his chair. “If she doesn’t go, she’ll regret it one day. It’s a part of growing up, and she needs to experience it. Hell, she’s not involved in anything at school. She can at least do this.”

  “Didn’t you go to your senior prom?”

  Surprised, he met her eyes squarely. She had a way of seeing straight to the heart of the matter that disturbed him, but at the same time made him hot. “No.”

  “Why not? With your good looks, I’m sure you could’ve found a date.”

  He paused for the space of two ragged breaths. “You think I’m good-looking?”

  Her face went white and she looked down at her glass. “I didn’t mean—Well, you—” Her wide eyes shot back up to his. “You know you are.”

  “I do?”

  “Hank!”

  The comers of his mouth curved upward.

  Her mouth fell open.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Do that again.”

  “Do what?”

  “Smile.”

  He couldn’t keep his mouth from obeying. That it almost hurt told him how long it had been since those muscles had made the effort. That it was this woman who made him feel like smiling worried him enough that it faded.

  “You should do that more often,” she said breathlessly.

  He scowled. “I smile.”

  “Not so anyone would notice,” she insisted. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “What question?”

  “Why didn’t you go to your senior prom?”

  He tore his gaze away from hers. “I didn’t go because I didn’t have a senior year in high school.”

  “You didn’t graduate?”

  “I took the GED in March of my junior year so I could cut out.”

  “Cut out of what?”

  “Hell, home. The ranch. What else?”

  “Why?”

  He shoved the chair back with a loud scrape, about to get up. He’d never told anyone how he felt about his father. He didn’t know if he could start now.

  But Hank didn’t rise. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he wanted to tell Alex. And it wasn’t just to prove he wasn’t like his father. Was it to see how she’d react? To make her take off in her little yellow car so this damned attraction would go away? Or did he want to see if she could ease this burden for him, too? She said it helped to open up. Maybe the reason he hadn’t was that he’d never had anyone who cared enough to listen.

  “My father,” he said more harshly than he intended. He cleared his throat and started again. “Claire—and Travis, too—believe Dad was such a great guy, but they didn’t know him like I did. They think I’m hard.” He released a bitter laugh. “I’m a feather pillow compared to him. He was after me constantly, pushing me, working me. Nothing I ever did was good enough. The argument between Claire and me earlier was nothing compared to the rows I used to have with Dad.”

  “So you left home when you were...what? Seventeen?”

  He nodded and finally met her eyes. The tenderness and sympathy there made some nameless something—some black, twisted knot deep inside him begin to unravel. “Barely.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Rodeo. It’s what I’d been doing for ten years to get away on the weekends. It became my life until they died.”

  “You were pretty good at it, weren’t you?”

  “I was on my way to the National Finals.” His brows suddenly came together. “Why the sad look?”

  “Sorry.” Alex took a deep breath to supply her lungs with air. Why else would her apology sound as breathless as it did?

  He must’ve heard in it more than she int
ended because his face softened and his voice lowered. “For me?”

  She could feel her face flame and she looked down, but said bravely, “Yes, for you. I don’t even remember my father, but at least my mother made me feel loved and wanted until she died.”

  “When did she die?”

  Alex shook her head. “One soul-baring is quite enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

  Hank bristled. He’d obviously taken her offer to open up too seriously. “I’ve never told anybody how I felt about my father. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said, covering his hand with hers.

  He stared down at her hand so long that she began drawing it away. He immediately caught her fingers and brought them to his lips. The warmth of his mouth raced from her hand along every nerve in her body, leaving her breathless and weak with longing.

  “Thanks for listening,” he said.

  Their eyes met over their joined hands and held. Alex didn’t know how long the spell lasted. It could’ve been an eternity or just a few short seconds before the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed ten times.

  Alex pulled her hand away. “Five o’clock comes awful early.”

  He nodded, and they both stood. An awkward moment passed in silence, then they spoke at the same time.

  “Look. I—”

  “I’ve been—”

  Alex smiled and Hank’s mouth twitched in reply. She felt as if her stomach were free floating inside her body.

  “You first,” he insisted.

  “No, you go ahead.”

  “Alex...”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I just need...I mean I don’t want to be a bother, but—”

  “But what?” he pressed.

  “It’s just that I’m almost out of flour. And there’s a few other things I could use if you want the good meals to continue.”

  He shook his head. “You were afraid to point out that we need supplies?”

  “I just don’t want to be any trouble. I mean, I’m only here for a few weeks and...” She trailed off at the look in his blue eyes.

  “If that don’t beat all,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never met a woman who’s ashamed of asking for necessities. Hell, you’re cooking to fill our bellies.”

  “I’m not going to be here very long. I don’t want to fill the pantry with things the next cook won’t use.”

  Hank’s eyes seemed to burn into hers. He took half a step toward her, then stopped himself. She could almost feel his muscles tense as he controlled whatever urge drove him.

  The strong reaction took her by surprise. She stepped back and cleared her throat. “But flour is absolutely necessary.”

  The blue eyes holding hers took a moment to clear. When they finally did, he tore them away.

  “You may not need much, but we do,” he growled. “We’ll go into town on Thursday, if that suits you.”

  “Sure, I—”

  “Good night.”

  Alex stared after him as he strode from the room. First cold, then hot, then cold again. Would she ever understand this man?

  Did she really want to?

  Chapter Four

  As Alex pushed a pot roast into the oven to slow-cook, she heard the unmistakable sound of a horse’s hooves clomping around outside the house. Two steps took her to the window over the sink in time to see Hank ride up to the barn.

  She glanced at the clock and frowned. Three o’clock. Why was he home? Only once in the eight days she’d worked at the ranch had he ever made it home before the hands.

  Hank stumbled as he dismounted, catching himself on the saddle.

  Alex slammed the oven door closed and tossed her padded mittens on the counter as she ran out the door. She’d sprinted halfway across the yard before the screen door rattled against the jamb. She didn’t slow until she reached the deep shadows of the barn. Her eyes hadn’t even begun to adjust when a pair of strong arms caught her.

  “What’s wrong?” a deep familiar voice demanded.

  “Hank?”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay. Are you?”

  She could see him clearly now. His obvious concern made her already-racing heart perform a backward flip in her chest. “I thought you might be...I mean, you almost fell when you dismounted.”

  His face softened, but his hold on her didn’t relax. “I haven’t been out of the saddle all day. My old knee injury was a little stiff, and it buckled on me.”

  She nodded, but her sigh of relief caught in her throat as his eyes seemed to ignite. She suddenly became aware of how close they stood. His strong fingers gripped her arms just above the elbows, pulling her against his muscled body. She could feel his warm breath flowing over her face like an intoxicating vapor. When he smiled, she thought she would faint from the brilliance of his white teeth against his sun-darkened face.

  “We had a date, remember? I came to give you a riding lesson.”

  As his words sank in, Alex tried to will the color from creeping up her neck. She felt like a fool for jumping to conclusions, but more than that, she knew running out here in a panic made it look like she cared a little too much about what happened to him. Swallowing hard as she realized she did care, she lowered her gaze.

  “What’s wrong now?” he demanded, holding on.

  She pulled back as far as he’d let her. “It’s not a date.”

  His grip tightened as he drew a ragged breath, then he released her suddenly. “You’re right, it’s not. God forbid either of us forgets we have responsibilities.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re not sticking around. You made it perfectly clear when I hired you.” He lifted the saddle from the gelding he’d ridden and threw it on the rack nailed into the wall. “Well, don’t worry, little lady. I don’t need romantic complications any more than you do. Thanks for the reminder.”

  Alex felt shards of disappointment stab through her. She took half a step toward him, but forced herself to stop. “Maybe it would be better if Jed or Buck taught me to ride.”

  “No!” He whirled from Maisy’s stall door to glare at her. “I’m the boss around here. I’ll teach you. No one else. That clear?”

  His hot words made Alex take a step back. They stared at each other across the expanse of the barn. Maisy blew at Hank from her stall. The blue heeler dogs barked at one another as they played in the meadow beyond. But these sounds barely registered in Alex’s brain. All she could hear was Hank’s harsh, uneven breathing. All she could see was his hard, implacable face. All she could feel was the magnetic force between them.

  No! She wasn’t attracted to this man. It was just the excitement of learning how to ride. But even as she tried to convince herself, she knew it wasn’t true. Something about this cowboy drew her like nectar drew hummingbirds. How simple it would be to walk into his arms and taste that nectar. She knew without a doubt it would be incredibly sweet—so sweet she might never want to leave.

  Alex dragged her eyes from his. Now the simple pleasure of learning to ride had been ruined. Instead of concentrating on the horse, she wouldn’t be able to think of anything but those blue eyes watching her.

  “Is what I have on okay?” She dug her fingernails into her palms, trying not to squirm as he looked her over slowly, insolently, from head to toe.

  Finally he said, “You got better shoes than that? Something with heels and harder soles?”

  She glanced down at her faux leather sport shoes: “I’ve got a pair of short heels for dresses, but—”

  “Not those kinds of heels. Look.” He lifted his foot. The deep brown leather boot was dull with dust, but the solid, stacked two-inch heels and the well-creased rounded toes looked much sturdier than anything she owned.

  Alex shook her head. “This is the best I’ve got.”

  He shrugged. “They’ll d
o for now. Thought we’d ride about an hour. That going to put a hardship on you fixing supper?”

  Like he cared. “I’ve got a roast in the oven. It should be fine for a couple of hours, but I ran out here so fast I... I just need to check it first.”

  He nodded and turned away. “Fine. Be back in ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” she mumbled, and stalked toward the house. The instant she entered, the comforting smells and sounds surrounded her, soothing her. Her heart slowed to a normal pace as she made sure she hadn’t unseated the lid on the pot when she’d slammed the oven door. The roast was fine and would be okay for another couple of hours.

  Now all she had to do was put a lid on the hormones boiling inside her. This ranch and the people on it were far too tempting as it was. Not a day went by that Claire or Buck or someone didn’t ask her to stay. If she succumbed to this attraction to Hank, she’d be lost. She might never make it to San Francisco.

  Alex closed her eyes as her fingernails dug into her palms. Romances came and went, but what she would learn under Monsieur Buchaude would last the rest of her life. All she had to do was keep her perspective—and hope Hank kept his hands to himself.

  As the screen door slammed, Hank spun around. His heel sprayed a shower of dirt across Maisy’s stall door. He would’ve kicked the door if he didn’t have to put a beginner on the mare before she’d have time to calm down.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Coming on to Alex was just plain stupid, like a jackrabbit playing with a rattlesnake.

  But when her wide, golden eyes turned on him, eating him up like candy, his thinking apparatus went on vacation. Those eyes.

  For one brief second they saw nothing but him. They held concern. Almost like she cared about him, like she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That’s the way it seemed...for one brief second.

  Then his mouth opened without being connected to his brain, and she skittered away, like she was the jackrabbit and he the rattlesnake.