The Rancher's Lullaby (Glades County Cowboys)

by Leigh Duncan

  In the tiny upstairs apartment, she stepped beneath a hot, steamy spray, grateful that the power had come back on while they slept. Deciding not to feel guilty was one thing, but she had to be practical. She had agreed to perform with Garrett during the Circle P’s roundup. Nearly two months of practice sessions and jams stretched in front of them. She’d already lived through the disastrous consequences of getting involved with a coworker. It was a mistake she had no desire to repeat, though she’d never label what she and Garrett had done as a mistake.

  Downstairs again, this time dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she emptied the cold coffee they’d never gotten around to drinking. The first few drops of a fresh pot had just splashed into the carafe when Garrett stepped from the music room. Lisa squared her shoulders, determinedly pushing down the tiniest shiver of desire that arced through her as she watched him pad barefoot across the shop’s hardwood floors.

  “Are you...okay?” Garrett ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the tufts that stuck out every which way.

  She searched the handsome face for any sign of regret, her heart singing when she found none. The tenderness in his blue eyes melted any final reservations she’d had about the tall rancher. Her fingers itched to trace the tiny spot on his cheek where the rug had left an imprint. She resolutely put them to work arranging spoons and coffee mugs on the counter. “I’m good. You?”

  “Better than good. That was—”

  “—not going to happen again.” She might be getting a late start, but it was up to her to establish the ground rules. She wasn’t the kind of girl to have a casual affair. No matter how good a lover Garrett Judd had proven himself to be. Or how much she wanted to repeat what they’d done.

  The soft lines of Garrett’s face firmed the tiniest bit. “My feelings exactly.” He hooked a thumb in the pocket of his jeans. “I’m not looking for a relationship,” he said quietly.

  “Me, neither.” Deliberately she reached for all the reasons why starting up with Garrett was a bad idea. As for the sharp twinge his too-easy compliance sent through her heart, she ignored it. “I just got divorced. I don’t want to rush into something. Besides, we have to work together. At least through the roundup, I think it’d be best if we kept things professional between us,” she finished.

  “Friends and coworkers, and nothing more.” Garrett nodded, his eyes shuttered. “That’s good enough for me. Mind if I get washed up?”

  “Bathroom’s upstairs on the left.” She shut out the rejection that sang an aria in her head. While Garrett hiked up the stairs, she straightened the two mugs on the counter. Scrounging around in the cupboard, she found a packet of sugar left over from a coffee run. Then, uncertain, she reached into the minifridge and drew out a small carton of milk.

  What had she been thinking, having sex with Garrett Judd? She hadn’t even known him long enough to know how he took his coffee. Giving in to the heat of the moment had been a mistake, and the only thing worse would be repeating it. She should be thankful he’d agreed to respect her boundaries. But, heaven help her, crossing that line again was all she could think about.

  * * *

  GARRETT DRANK IN the light floral scent that floated in the wisps of steam. A scent that, no matter what happened between Lisa and him, he knew he’d always associate with this new stage of his life. He wasn’t sure what had triggered the change. Maybe it was his recent close brush with death. Maybe it was simply time for the grieving process to end. Maybe it was the storm that had worn itself out while he and Lisa were, um, wearing themselves out in a very good way in the music room. Whatever the reason, his life was finally moving forward again, whether or not the direction was the one he’d planned.

  Take the sudden rush of desire, for instance. He certainly hadn’t anticipated that. Any more than the heady mix of emotions that had stampeded his senses when he held Lisa in his arms. Her eagerness had matched his. Her hunger had stirred him, made him want to please her. Her tiny gasps of pleasure, the way her breath had caught in her throat when he touched her, how she’d come apart in his arms—even now he felt his blood rushing south, fueling a desire to do it all again and soon.

  But not today. She said there’d be no repeat performance, and while he didn’t believe that for a minute, she wasn’t the only one who needed time to think about what had happened between them. Tucking his shirt into his Wranglers, he wondered if he should make his excuses and leave, or if he was expected to stick around for a while. He hadn’t been a player in high school, or even when he was riding the rodeo circuit. He wasn’t sure of the protocol. One thing for certain—he didn’t want to be that guy, the one who got what he wanted and headed out the door. Lisa deserved better. At the same time, for LJ’s sake, he needed to get that case of formula in his truck back to the Circle P.

  He frowned as an image of LJ tugged on his conscience. Lost in his own grief and pain, he hadn’t been a very good father to the boy. But he’d come close to dying, so close that he could almost taste bitter ashes. He’d meant every word when he’d sworn to change. Starting today, he’d put his oath into practice. He’d take a bigger interest in his child’s life. Yeah, he had work to do, men to oversee and a thousand head of cattle to herd. But at night...at night there was no reason he couldn’t rock his son to sleep in the same rocking chair his mom and dad had used when he was a baby. He’d change diapers, give the boy a bottle. When the baby fussed, he’d play his guitar and stand watch over the little tyke until LJ drifted off to sleep.

  Unease flickered in his chest as he hummed the opening bars of the “Angels” song. He brushed his concerns to one side. He’d come out of a dark place, had some of the best sex of his life, and was going home to his son. What could possibly be wrong? In the midst of tightening his belt, he stopped, overwhelmed by a feeling of dread.

  Going home to his baby.

  He groaned as the ramifications of a night of pure pleasure settled in the pit of his stomach. The attraction between him and Lisa had zapped them both. As for him, he hadn’t given a single thought to protection. His heart skipped a beat before it galloped against his chest. He’d already lost one woman he loved to the complications of childbirth. While he certainly didn’t love Lisa, the absolute last thing in the world he wanted, the one thing he couldn’t face, was another pregnancy.

  Praying the door wouldn’t squeak, he eased open Lisa’s medicine cabinet and took stock. No small round dispenser of birth-control pills sat on the shelf. No other birth control methods lay there, either. His stomach tightened and he tugged one earlobe. Hadn’t she said something about wanting a baby? Talk about awkward conversation starters. He and Lisa were overdue for the kind of discussion he’d never, ever pictured himself having. He headed down the stairs, guilt and fear playing havoc with his pulse, his breathing. He managed to keep his wits about him and talk inane pleasantries while they sipped the coffee she’d poured. At last, he couldn’t delay any longer.

  “Lisa, I hate to bring this up, but I didn’t exactly come here expecting what happened between us last night. We— I didn’t use any protection.” He forced his gaze to remain steady when an odd look twisted the shop owner’s fine features. Her hand slid low over her belly.

  “You can relax, Garrett,” she said softly. “That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.” Her gaze and her voice plummeted. “I can’t get pregnant.”

  Relief rained down on him, but before he could soak in his good fortune, he saw pain shimmer in her dark eyes. He blinked. “You want children, don’t you?”

  “Don’t most women?”

  He supposed they did. But the drive to have a baby had killed his wife. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to be brutally honest. “I don’t ever want another baby. So, if there’s any chance...”

  “There isn’t,” Lisa said with a sad assurance. “My ex and I, we tried every trick known to medical science and a few that weren’t. No luck.” Her lids fluttered down over eyes that had gone misty. “I thought there might still be a cha
nce. Till yesterday. That’s when I found out that he and his new girlfriend are expecting. It confirmed what I’d been afraid of—that it was my fault all along. I’ll never have a baby.”

  She looked so forlorn standing there, her raw emotions displayed on her face, that, leaving his coffee on the counter, he crossed to her. Two short strides were all it took to have her in his arms again. The desire he’d been sure he’d taken care of last night roared back just as strong. This time, though, Garrett tamped it down, determined to give only comfort. Lisa swore she couldn’t get pregnant. Much as he wanted to believe her, there was no way he’d make love to her again. Not before he made a trip to the drug store. He settled for holding her until her breathing evened out.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I’ll deal.” A moment later, she slipped out of his arms. Her back straightened as she pulled herself erect. “If you don’t mind, though, I have some things to take care of before I open the shop this morning.”

  Okay, so subtle wasn’t in Lisa’s wheelhouse. Good to know. The direct approach was fine with him.

  He grabbed his raincoat from the rack and tugged the brim of his Stetson low over his eyes. At the door, he hesitated only the briefest second before he kissed her cheek. Knowing she was watching, he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode to his truck as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  In reality, his thoughts were in turmoil, his emotions all over the map. Lisa had said they had to keep things professional between them, and he’d respect her choices. For now. But the gig on the Circle P was only a cattle drive, for crying out loud. He stifled a laugh. It wasn’t like they were going on tour together.

  Then again, the roundup wouldn’t last forever. They’d have almost two months to prepare and another week on the trail. The cooling-off period would give him a chance to get to know Lisa better before the next time they made love. Because there would be a next time. That much he knew for certain. As explosively as they’d come together, they couldn’t resist each other forever.

  Chapter Four

  Garrett eased his truck to a halt near the kitchen of the ranch house. The big engine purred into silence when he clicked off the ignition. He scanned the yard, relaxing when nothing but darkness filled the barn’s yawning doorway. He was lucky that no one had begun the daily chore of feeding stock and mucking stalls. It wouldn’t be long, though, before the ranch bustled with activity. Even now, one of the cats prowled along at the base of the barn, probably on its way home from an all-night hunt. Birds rustled in the trees by the house. A whip-poor-will called to its mate while the first rays of morning sun slowly brightened the horizon.

  If he intended to make it up the stairs unnoticed, he’d have to hustle. He shook his head. Was it only a week ago that he’d slunk into the house trying to escape attention? Now here he was, doing it again, but for an entirely different reason. His attitude might have done a one-eighty in the last twenty-four hours, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone to ask where he’d spent the night. Or what he’d done while he was there.

  Warmth spread up his neck at the memory of how Lisa had felt in his arms, how she’d tasted, how he’d reacted to her touch. How much he wanted to do it again. He grabbed his hat from the seat beside him while he ran a hand through his hair.

  Guilt raised its ugly head. Garrett squashed it like a bug. He and Lisa had scratched an itch. Pure and simple. His late wife wouldn’t have expected him to live the rest of his life as a monk any more than he’d have wanted her to join a nunnery if something had happened to him. No, he thought as he swung his feet out of the truck, he had nothing to feel guilty about. The newcomer had made it perfectly clear she wasn’t looking for a relationship. And neither was he. Whether he wanted to see Lisa again or not.

  A rooster crowed from somewhere on the other side of the darkened barn. Seconds later, light spilled from one of the bunkhouse windows. Garrett stood, put his feet in motion. Dew coated the dirt yard. The damp, black earth clung to his boots. He wrenched open the rear door of the big quad cab. Though he didn’t anticipate another late-night rendezvous in town—at least not anytime soon—he added oiling the truck’s hinges to his chore list that never seemed to have an end.

  He’d hefted the case of baby formula from the back seat when the screen door at the back of the house slapped shut. The noise cut through the early morning quiet like a gunshot, and he flinched. So much for any hope of slipping inside unnoticed, he thought when he spotted his mother headed his way.

  “’Mornin’,” he called.

  “Garrett?” Doris picked up speed until coffee sloshed over the sides of the mug she carried. She paused long enough to dash the dregs on the ground before she hurried forward. “Oh, thank goodness!”

  The odd note in her voice set Garrett’s teeth on edge. He dropped the formula back onto the seat. “What’s up? Is something wrong with LJ?” He’d never forgive himself if anything had happened to his son while he was...

  “Where have you been? Ty’s been out for hours, searching for any sign you might have gone off the road and be lying in a ditch somewhere.”

  Garrett’s chest tightened as he took in the tears that pooled in Doris’s eyes and dampened her lined cheeks. “Mom, I’m fine,” he insisted. To prove it, he wrapped his arms around her.

  Doris tipped her head, her eyes searching. “But where were you? I was so worried. We all were when you didn’t come back last night. We tried reaching you on your cell phone, but you didn’t answer.”

  Imagining the house in an uproar and him the cause of it, Garrett swore. He tugged his phone from the holder at his side. Not a single bar glowed on the screen to indicate service. “The storm must have knocked out a cell tower,” he said. His stomach clenched as he took in his mother’s red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I know I shouldn’t. You’re a grown man, after all. But when you didn’t come back...” She paused, then studied his face. “Where were you?”

  This time when guilt raised its head and hissed, Garrett didn’t bother getting out of its way. “It didn’t seem right,” he hedged, “skippin’ the jam at Pickin’ Strings without sending word. I stopped in on my way back to the ranch. Lisa was pretty spooked by the storm. After she lost power, I stuck around to, um, make sure she was okay.” He toed the dirt, refusing to explain how he and store owner had passed the time.

  “You’re a good man, Garrett,” his mom said slowly. “I’m sure she appreciated the company. But son...”

  “Yes, ma’am?” Garrett let his best aw-shucks grin slip across his face when Doris punched him on the arm.

  “You ever pull another stunt like this again, I’ll have your hide. We were just getting ready to send the men out looking for you.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I showed up when I did, then.” Garrett grabbed the heavy box from the cab. “Where do you want this?” he asked, hoping to put an end to the questions.

  “In the pantry.” Doris ran a finger around the rim of her coffee cup. “I’ll get in touch with Ty. Tell him you’re back and in one piece.”

  With his mom trailing behind, Garrett headed for the kitchen. His stomach rumbled at the good smells of bacon and sausage wafting through the door that Chris, the assistant cook, held open for them.

  “Biscuits are in the oven. I’ll ring the bell for breakfast soon’s they’re done.” In all likelihood, the young man had kept the coffee flowing throughout the long, stormy night. Chris raised his cup in a half-salute as he headed outside for a well-deserved break.

  While his mom made a beeline for the coffee pot, Garrett gave the kitchen a quick study. From tall stacks of pancakes with three syrup choices to huge platters of crisp bacon and pitchers of fresh-squeezed orange juice, a breakfast hearty enough to sustain hard-working men through a busy day of cattle ranching crowded the center island. Without looking, Garrett knew the warming oven held a large pan of scrambled eggs Chris would serve alongside the made-from-scratch biscuits. The cook
poked his head back inside.

  “Mr. Ty checked in a few minutes ago.” Chris nodded to a walkie-talkie on the kitchen counter. “I told him you were back, Mr. Garrett. He said long as he was out, he’d take a look around.”

  Garrett let a long, slow sigh seep between his lips. Maybe spending the night at Lisa’s hadn’t been his smartest move. As manager, it was his job—not Ty’s—to ride out at first light, check for downed trees and fence lines. Just as it was his job to send the men out to make repairs.

  He swiped a mug from the rack, but his plan to grab some coffee and a shower hit a snag when static rustled from a nearby baby monitor. Seconds later, as LJ’s wails filled the room, he saw his mother’s posture droop. He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” he said. “You sit and enjoy yourself. You deserve it. I got this.”

  He’d just have to make it through the day with Lisa’s scent clinging to him, reminding him with every move of what they’d done the night before. Not that he wanted to think of her. Not when his son needed him. He trotted up the stairs, eager to put his newfound determination to be a better father into play.

  LJ’s cries grew louder when Garrett opened the door into a room that had been painted blue and decorated with cowboys. His unhappy little boy stood in the crib, clinging to the same top rail Garrett had held on to when he was LJ’s age.

  “Hey, Little Judd,” Garrett cooed. “Don’t be sad. Daddy’s here.”

  LJ didn’t clap. He didn’t smile. He only screamed louder.

  Uncertainty rumbled through Garrett’s middle. His mom would know what to do, but she’d already lost one night’s sleep. He refused to disturb her. Should he play his guitar for the little guy? He felt around in his pocket for his pick without finding more than a stray piece of lint. Sizing up his son, he took a deep breath. He’d broken many a rambunctious horse with a firm hand and a soft voice. Maybe the same tricks would work on a child.