Colt

by Duncan Leigh

  The man was an enigma. At once cold and hot, fierce and tender. She wished she knew what lay beneath his brusque exterior. At his core, was he like her dad, her first husband? Or did he have a compassionate heart?

  Uncertainty gnawed at her as she beat together flour and sugar, eggs and cocoa. Colt could have read her the riot act this afternoon. Yet, he hadn’t. She couldn’t forget how he’d whispered into her ear, practically begged for her forgiveness. His kindness stirred a longing she thought she’d securely locked away, if not forever, then at least until she and Bree had a home of their own.

  The only thing that hadn’t wavered about the man was his insistence on preserving the very traditions she threatened with the changes she wanted to make, the things she didn’t know and, worst of all, the ones she’d ruined. So even if spending time with the tall, handsome rancher sent her heart into overdrive, the best thing, the smartest thing, she could do for both of them was to stay as far away from him as possible.

  Tension bled from her shoulders as she reached her decision. She shoved aside a wish that things could be different and lost herself in the task at hand.

  Later, padding into the living room while the cakes cooled, she paused at the sound of ice clinking against the side of a glass. Squinting, she peered into the darkness. Her heart stuttered when she traced the outline of a figure on the sofa. She skimmed over the shape of a familiar head, traveled the wide shoulders down to muscular arms.

  Colt. The man she’d decided to stay away from sat on the leather couch, his feet propped on the coffee table. Overcoming an urge to retreat into the kitchen, she forced herself across the room.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked when she neared him.

  “Nah.” His deep voice rose from the darkness. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

  Regretting that she hadn’t slipped into something decidedly less comfortable than thin pajamas and a blousy sweatshirt, she remained glued to the floor. “I couldn’t get this afternoon out of my mind. What could have happened—what would have happened—if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

  “Aw, it wasn’t as bad as it looked.” He patted the empty cushion beside him. “Come. Sit a spell.”

  Though a voice in her head argued that spending any time alone with Colt wasn’t the best idea, she shushed it. She slid onto the sofa with a newfound determination to learn more about the man who had her emotions in such a quandary. The soft cushion bowed beneath her, tipping her close enough to feel the warmth that emanated from him.

  “Most of the time, gators are more afraid of us than we are of them.”

  Emma hugged herself. “You could have fooled me.”

  “Yeah, about that. They’re also very protective of their young. If it hadn’t been for the nest, the ones today would’ve swum off the minute you stepped onto their beach. But getting between an alligator and its eggs or hatchlings—yeah, you don’t want to do that.”

  “When that one opened his mouth…” Her voice trailed off. She licked her lips and tried again. “All those teeth. I thought for sure it wanted to eat us.”

  She was so lost in the terror of those few moments that she didn’t object when Colt slid an arm around her shoulders. His solid strength felt natural and protective, and she leaned closer.

  “Nah,” he said with a shrug. “They’re cold-blooded. They open their jaws wide like that, particularly when it’s hot out. It helps ’em regulate their body temperature. Looks scary as hell, but they don’t mean anything by it. Gotta stay out of the water, though. They’re not the smartest animals in the kingdom. They’ve been known to mistake a swimmer for a fish.”

  He sat so close she knew the moment his muscles tensed. She studied the hand he kneaded against one thigh.

  “Tell me none of them ever got hold of you,” she whispered, unable to fathom how anyone would survive a run-in with the huge creatures. She gasped when he nodded.

  “I was eight.” The heady scent of good whiskey swirled through the air as he reached for his glass. He took a long pull before he continued. “I was lucky. The one that grabbed me wasn’t much bigger than I was. Plus, Luke and Garrett were there. They pulled him off of me. Or me outta him—it all happened so fast, the details never were real clear. Forty-two stitches right across here.” He pointed to his leg. “After that, I made it a point to learn all I could about gators, though I can’t say they’re my favorite critters.”

  Emma inhaled sharply. What if she hadn’t stopped Bree from wading into the water? What would have happened then? Though she tightened her arms about herself, a series of tremors turned her insides to jelly.

  “Hey. C’mere.” Colt’s fingers drew her closer. “You don’t have to worry. They’re gone now.”

  “I know.” A mud-splattered truck filled with long cages had rattled past the kitchen window shortly after supper. The sun had long since set by the time she heard it return. Only this time, a heavy load pressed the truck’s back end so low it almost scraped the tires. “It’s just…” She paused while she fought down another tremor.

  Colt’s hand gave her shoulders a squeeze. “We’ve never lost an employee or a guest on the Circle P. I’m not about to break with tradition on my watch.”

  Tradition. Colt’s favorite word.

  “So what will happen to them, the alligators?” Straightening slightly, Emma steered the conversation to something that didn’t stir thoughts of turning toward Colt and wrapping her arms around his wide chest.

  “The trapper’ll sell the eggs or hatchlings to an alligator farm. The adults, well, it depends. He might harvest the meat and skins. Or release them in the Everglades where they won’t bother anybody.”

  Despite telling herself it was a bad idea, Emma leaned toward Colt. “So if we’re safe, why are both of us wide awake at—” she checked her watch “—three in the morning?.”

  “Me, my mind won’t let go.” He swirled ice cubes and took another pull from his drink. “Running the ranch is a big job. I’m not sure I realized how big when I took it on.” Setting his glass on the side table, he flexed his fingers. “Don’t know how my dad did it. I sure don’t want to let him down.”

  This vulnerable side of Colt was rapidly undoing her first impression of the man. A desire to know more about his past stirred within her. “You sure know your way around this place.” She tipped her hand, indicating the rest of the ranch. “How long have you been away?”

  “I lived here till I earned my card in the PBR—that’s Professional Bull Riders—when I turned eighteen.”

  “You were in the rodeo?” She imagined him sitting astride an animal the size of Three while a stadium filled with people cheered for him. “Why?”

  “You’ve never been to a rodeo, have you?”

  Hearing the note of disbelief in Colt’s voice, she shook her head.

  “I’ll have to take you sometime. There’s nothing quite like it. Whether you rope steers or barrel race, you’re constantly testing yourself against your limits. Trying to beat the clock. You want to ride longer, hold on tighter than the time before. Bull riding was my specialty. I was pretty good at it. Won a couple of national championships.”

  Emma leaned back. Colt sounded an awful lot like her dad talking about the military. “And that’s the job you’ll go back to after you leave here?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “I retired from the circuit years ago.”

  “Retired?” The concept was so foreign, she gaped up at him. “At what? Thirty?” She didn’t have to see Colt’s face to know a grin had spread across it.

  “Just shy of it. Rodeoing is hard enough on the body that hardly anyone competes much past their twenties. I’ve had my share of cracked ribs, sprains and bruises. Only had one really bad spill—that one sidelined me for three months. It was worth it, though. Mom has my gold buckles stashed around here somewhere.”

  Emma blinked. He’d endured all kinds of injuries for a belt buckle? She shook her head. There had to be more to it than that. “So what’
s a retired bull rider do?”

  “Pretty much the same thing…without the bulls. I travel ahead of the riders and the riggers. Work with the livestock contractors. Oversee the vendors. Make sure we comply with all the safety regs. Abilene one week. Kansas City the next. I show up, do my job and move on.”

  “But you gave all that up. To come back here?”

  “This is home,” he said as if that explained everything. “At least, it is till Royce and Randy finish up their contract around the first of the year. Once they get here, I’ll go back to the PBR.”

  She couldn’t ignore the cool wave of disappointment that rushed over her when she considered never seeing Colt again. But his stay on the Circle P was only a temporary stop in a life on the move.

  “Sounds like we’re exact opposites,” she murmured. Immediately, she caught the wistful note in her voice and wished it away. But it was too late. Colt had heard it, too. He leaned close enough that his breath brushed her cheek.

  “How so?”

  She really had no choice but to tell him the truth. “Between growing up as an army brat and my marriage to Jack, I’ve moved so many times, I’ve lost count.”

  “Jack, he’s your husband?”

  “Was. Our marriage didn’t last. Honestly, I was surprised we made it as long as we did. We were supposed to go to school, open a restaurant together. I’d cook. He’d handle the front of the house. We’d become so famous they’d do a TV show about us. Then…”

  She poked a spot on her shirt. “Then my dad talked him into joining the army. He convinced Jack it was a great way to earn an education. Only thing was, Jack loved the military. He was always ready for the next challenge, the next set of orders. Me, not so much.”

  “It took a lot of guts, starting out on your own.”

  “I had Bree.” Emma smiled. “She’s the reason I finally called it quits. I wanted something better for my daughter. Wanted her to have the stability, the roots, I never had. To grow up in a household where people respected one another. I’d just filed for divorce when Jack died in a—” she made air quotes “—routine training accident.”

  “I knew you were a widow. But I had no idea. Bree must have been just a baby.”

  “It’s been four years.” Four long, tough years. She scrubbed a palm along the seam of her pajamas. “Jack’s life insurance paid my way through culinary school. I got a job in New York. Worked my way up to sous chef, or second in line. I still had my eyes on fame and fortune. But then I realized all the accolades in the world weren’t worth what I’d have to endure to get them.”

  “And here you are.”

  “Yeah. Here I am. It took a couple of years to figure out that working in New York was just more of the same atmosphere I was trying to get away from. My last boss had a legendary temper. So when your mom and dad offered me a position on the Circle P, I jumped at the chance. To me it meant not just peace and quiet, but stability and home.”

  But life had an odd way of throwing monkey wrenches into her plans. She certainly hadn’t intended to dunk the Circle P’s cookbook in a watery bath. Any more than she’d planned on an attraction to a certain tall, dark and handsome rancher.

  “You’re looking for adventure,” she finished, as much for herself as for Colt. “I want to settle down.”

  “Sounds like we’re headed in different directions.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She expected Colt to pull away. Thought that, despite the moment they’d shared this afternoon, he’d come to the same realization that they were wrong for one another. When he didn’t move, she decided she’d have to be the one to leave. To march into the kitchen, where she’d put the finishing touches on the cake she’d started. It was what any smart, sane person would do.

  Unfortunately, smart wasn’t exactly how she felt sitting next to Colt in the middle of the night in a house where the only other living being was a four-year-old sound asleep upstairs. Hungry, maybe. And not for the dessert she’d started when thoughts of alligators had kept her awake. Colt’s touch stirred a visceral response, one that had everything to do with wanting the big rancher’s arms around hers, his lips pressed against hers.

  Smart went out the window when he feathered soft kisses across her forehead. She drew in a breathy sigh and tipped her face to his. Instantly, he covered her mouth with his own.

  The press of his lips against hers sent tingles racing along every nerve in her body. With the first brush of his tongue against her lips, she opened to him. He tasted of excellent single malt mingled with mint. Beneath the crisp, clean smells of fresh air and soap, she caught a hint of his own musky scent. His fingers cupped her face. His thumb traced the tender skin beneath her jaw.

  Her breath caught in her throat and she gave herself to the heady sensations of Colt’s touch, his taste. She moaned her pleasure, refusing to listen to the voice of reason that practically shouted that kissing Colt Judd was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  One thing for sure, she thought when they both finally came up for air, Colt had succeeded in erasing all thoughts of four-legged predators from her mind. Except a new worry had taken its place and, she feared that, unlike the cold-blooded kind, this one wouldn’t let go.

  Bree’s feet skidded to a halt halfway to the barn. She turned, clutching Mrs. Wickles to her chest. “Are we gonna see horses?”

  Colt eyed the girl’s mom. Usually attentive to her daughter’s every need, Emma studied the distant horizon without answering. Was she thinking about their kiss? Did she regret it?

  He scuffed a boot through the dust. He could think of dozens of reasons they should stay at arm’s length. She was his employee. He, her boss. She wanted to put down roots. He lived a rootless existence. All things considered, common sense told him he should maintain a healthy distance from the cook.

  Except fate kept throwing them together. Fate, and a little girl who needed rescuing far too often. Then there was the little matter of last night. Or, more precisely, this morning. How was he to know a restless night would land them in each other’s arms? That her kisses would have knocked his boots off if he’d been wearing them.

  Her touch was so tempting he wished he hadn’t promised to take Emma and her daughter on a tour of the ranch. Or to spend his evenings helping her recreate the Circle P’s traditional recipes. How he was going to manage either of those tasks without slipping his arm around Emma’s slim waist, or stealing a kiss from her perfect lips, he had no idea.

  He looked down at the little girl who danced around on her toes. At least they had Bree along with them this afternoon. The pint-size chaperone would keep things from getting too heated.

  “Just Star and Daisy,” he said, answering her question. “I bet they’d like some company.”

  “Horses, Mommy!” Bree’s head bobbed up and down so fast, she sent her pigtails flying. She tugged on her mom’s hand. “I’m gonna ride one all by myself!”

  The boast earned Emma’s full attention. “Horses are not toys,” she warned. “We have to be careful around them. Listen to Mr. Colt and do exactly what he says.”

  Knowing Emma trusted him with her daughter sent warmth spreading across his chest. He treated them both to his best teasing grin. “She’s got a bit of daredevil in her, doesn’t she?” He pulled one of Bree’s ponytails. “Are you sure you’re not a tomboy?”

  Both of Bree’s little hands landed on her hips. “You’re silly, Mr. Colt. I’m a girl.”

  “Bree, mind your manners.” The glint of humor in Emma’s eyes softened her stern words.

  “It’s okay.” Colt laughed. “I was being silly.” He reached for his hat brim and was momentarily thrown off-balance when his fingers encountered nothing but air. Playing Frisbee with a full-size alligator was mighty hard on a cowboy hat. Not that he was complaining. When he got right down to it, he didn’t really mind that a few shreds of leather were all that was left of his best work Stetson. Not if it meant Bree and Emma were safe.

  “How ’bout if I carry you
.” Colt didn’t wait for an answer but swept the featherweight child into his arms. As he strode into the darkened barn, two long faces appeared over Dutch doors at the far end of the row. Star and Daisy nickered, hoping for a treat.

  “Oooh!” Bree huddled against his neck. “They’re big!”

  “Yep,” Colt agreed. To give both mom and daughter time to get used to the idea, he showed them the layout.

  “Luke made a lot of changes once Jimmy and Sarah moved in.” He pointed to the pitchforks, rakes and shovels that hung at shoulder height near the entrance. A ladder to the upper level collapsed into the ceiling. “It’s meant to keep inquisitive youngsters from testing their wings from the hayloft.” He winced remembering the day Hank had broken a leg when he missed landing on a pile of hay. He sure didn’t want that happening to Bree.

  “Saddles, bridles and riding gear are stored in here.” Crossing to the tack room, he inhaled the familiar scent of leather when he opened the door on racks of neatly hung equipment. Cowboy hats of various sizes and colors hung on a peg wall.

  With Bree’s help, he chose one that would do until he made a trip to Eli’s Western Wear for a replacement. He grabbed a couple of carrots from a fifty-pound bag by the door. Leading the way, he headed down the wide, clear aisle to the horses’ stalls.

  “Want to give Daisy a treat?” Colt broke the vegetable into smaller pieces.

  Worry lines crisscrossed Bree’s little face. “Does she bite?” Looking for reassurance, she swung a hopeful look toward her mom.

  Emma’s lips parted as if she wanted to protest, but Colt intervened before she had a chance. “This old gal has the best manners of any horse on the Circle P.” He held a carrot out to Bree.

  Bree pursed a pair of rosebud lips, clearly torn between fear and daring. He grinned at Emma when her daughter finally gathered enough courage to say, “Okay.”