Roping the Marshal: A Sweet Contemporary Cowboy Romance (Kester Ranch Cowboys Book 2)

by Tori Kayson

  Logan, who’d been banished from playing with the older kids, rode his trike in circles around the kitchen island. He missed Beth’s sandaled toe by a fraction. He grinned up at his aunt, his coffee brown eyes shining.

  “Watch it, buddy, or you’ll be taking that race trike outside.” Beth shook her head, smiling, and refocused her attention on pouring lemonade. “So have you met any handsome cowboys this week?”

  Summer’s breath whistled from her lips. This was her sister’s standard question whenever they got together. So why hadn’t she expected it today?

  The forever-imprinted image of Maverick relaxing in the Adirondack chair flitted across her vision. Her son cradled against his heart. Long legs stretched out in front of him. Moonlight reflecting off the pool water and dancing from his silver eyes.

  Her heart rate stuttered as she plopped another comic book character on a plate. Maverick had been her superhero last week. Until she’d found out what he did for a living. She cleared her throat. “Handsome cowboys?” Would one out of two count?

  “Yeah. You know. Those hot looking guys who ride horses all day?”

  “Cowboys don’t always ride horses.” Cowboys come in all different forms. Maverick’s words echoed through her brain. She blinked away the reminder and added another cupcake to the plate. These things were a work of art. Too bad the kids, namely her son, would destroy them in a matter of seconds.

  “No?”

  She shook her head and licked stray frosting off a thumb. “Nope. I’ve seen Fargo and his uncle take out the four-wheelers lots of times. And sometimes they drive trucks around the property.”

  Beth abandoned her task altogether and studied her sister.

  Summer dropped a cupcake on the last plate and focused her attention on Logan. Hadn’t he just called for his mommy? The little traitor didn’t even look up.

  “You have, haven’t you?”

  “Have what?”

  “Met a cowboy!” Surprise laced Beth’s voice. As if she doubted it would ever happen.

  Well, it hadn’t. “Not this week.”

  “Something happened. Tell me!”

  She sighed. Might as well. Her sister wouldn’t give up until all the details had been divulged and properly dissected. “I met the last of the Kester sons last week.”

  “Oh.”

  Summer chuckled at Beth’s deflated tone.

  “Mav!” Logan chirped, his pudgy legs pumping furiously at the pedals. The wide looping circles around the kitchen made her dizzy. “I wanna see Mav!”

  Beth’s blonde eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. Her gaze jerked between Logan and Summer.

  “Stop it!” she demanded.

  “Stop what?” Beth asked, all innocent and sweet.

  “It’s not what it sounds like.” But wasn’t it? She wanted to see Mav, too, and that just irked her. No matter how much truth resonated with Maverick’s words, she was after a cowboy. One who wore boots every day instead of a badge. Who carted around a tool box, not a weapon. Who puttered around the ranch on a four-wheeler or a horse, not an unmarked police car.

  “No?”

  “No. Besides, we just met the man.”

  Beth didn’t need to say anything. Not with that whole stink eye thing going on.

  “Logan decided to go for a swim, and Maverick rescued him.” That should satisfy her sister’s insatiable curiosity about her love life. Or sadly, her lack of one.

  “Wanna see Mav!” Logan demanded and ran the spinning wheels over her feet.

  Ouch. She grimaced and edged her sandals closer to the cabinetry, out of the racetrack circumference.

  “And Mav’s not a cowboy?”

  Summer shook her head, her teeth pinching her bottom lip. “Nope.”

  “Mav’s a police officer. Like daddy.”

  Logan didn’t just spout that bombshell as if it wasn’t earth shattering, did he? She blinked.

  Beth’s jaw hung open, her mouth rounding into a silent “oh.”

  “Actually, he’s a Deputy US Marshal.”

  “Hey, Beth.” Ben breezed in from the patio to save the day. His gaze skittered from Logan to Summer and then back to his wife. Deep lines grooved between his eyebrows. His lips skimmed Beth’s forehead, a loud smooch competing with the furious spinning wheels of the trike. “The kids are ready for the cupcakes.”

  “Ew!” Logan squealed. The trike screeched to a halt.

  Maybe it was the slight roll of the eyes or the way Ben’s forehead wrinkled after the kiss, but his demeanor suggested that the PDA was more for show than affection. What was up with them? Or maybe he was worried that he’d interrupted an important conversation? Ha!

  “On my way! Come on, Logan.” Summer took the opportunity for what it was, a chance to escape her sister’s questioning. Scooping up as many plates as she could handle, she headed toward the horde of hungry fifth graders gathered in a huddle around the pool outside.

  She might have escaped her sister’s interrogation, but the nagging intensified inside her head. Like the wheels of Logan’s trike, spinning around and around, faster and faster. Leaving her more confused and unsettled than when the judge had signed the document declaring her single.

  She’d done everything she could think of to make her marriage work, including seeing a counselor herself since Judd refused to go. She didn’t consider herself blameless, but she definitely wasn’t going into her next long-term relationship when the other person wasn’t more invested in her, her son, and their life together. What was the point?

  She just needed to cowgirl up and banish that unwelcome image of Maverick. Get on with her cowboy quest. A man who still lived by the cowboy code.

  Definitely not Maverick, the lawman.

  Disappointment drooped her shoulders as she waited for Ben to open the slider. She glided by him, checking to make sure Logan followed.

  Her brother-in-law smiled with his lips, but it seemed forced. Especially when Logan ran the trike over his sandaled foot. “Ouch!” He bit back a curse and glared at her son.

  “Sorry.” Logan’s innocent face peered up at his uncle, but the fire engine red trike still idled on Ben’s foot.

  “Move the—” Ben reached down and jerked the trike off his foot, moving Logan through the door.

  Ben had never cozied up to her son, but he hadn’t treated him with such impatience, either. If his behavior wasn’t so out of character, she’d call him on it. “Tough week, Ben?”

  As a regional sales manager for medical equipment, Ben traveled a lot. Maybe he was just tired.

  “Just long. Now this.” He pointed toward the rowdy group of boys. Clad in swim trunks, they tossed a football around, tackling each other and horsing around.

  See. That was why she needed a cowboy. Somebody like Fargo who stuck around home. Who, when he wasn’t working, always had his son close by and his infant daughter cradled in his arms.

  But she’d been in Texas two years now. Gone out with a few cowboys. Wade was the only one who stuck, but he hadn’t caused any blips in her pulse.

  Not like the handsome man who’d rolled into town this week on four tires instead of four legs. But another guy in law enforcement? So not happening.

  5

  “Need some help?” A deep voice drifted over her shoulder, its warmth zinging her with an arrow to the chest.

  Summer jerked and conked her head against the car’s door frame. “Ouch!” She stifled the moan and rubbed the sore spot. “I can manage. Thanks though.” She finished unbuckling Logan from his car seat and set him on the damp grass.

  “Mav!” Her son’s arms circled one of Maverick’s thighs.

  A long leg. Thick with muscle.

  Desire spiked. She blinked. Must’ve damaged a few neurons banging her head.

  “Hey, cowboy.” Mav scooped Logan into his arms and winced.

  “Logan, leave the poor guy alone.” The wounded lawman had come home to heal, and that wasn’t likely if he kept picking up her son.

  “What?
Now why would I want him to leave me alone? Especially after I made a special treat.” Maverick feigned shock and didn’t release her son.

  “Tweat?” Logan’s eyes grew boulder-wide, the irises warm and rich and oh-so-adoring. A mother’s biggest challenge. She almost always gave in when he flashed that doting puppy look.

  She turned away from the adoration shining from her son’s face. Busied herself with tugging out her camera equipment.

  “Yes, sir. A treat. Do you like chocolate milk? And cookies?”

  “I wuv chocwat milk! And cookies! What kind?”

  “Chocolate chip. And a special coffee for your mom.”

  “Coffee! Mom wuvs coffee too.”

  She turned around.

  Mav held out his spare hand. He was holding her son but he also wanted to carry her equipment? And, oh, that smile!

  Her heart thumped a few extra wild beats and her legs jellified. “I can get it.”

  “Not while I’m here.” He stood his ground, ignoring her protest until she finally surrendered the bags. He slipped the straps over a shoulder and walked beside her to the house. “So I hope you like autumn blend or harvest or something like that. Kierra said it was one of your favorites this time of year.”

  She chuckled at the mangled name. “Not a seasonal flavor lover?”

  “Hmm…I’m more of an all year round kinda guy.” His wink belied the serious tone, the hidden message lurking beneath the words.

  He’d made coffee for her and chocolate milk for her son? Her belly warmed and bumps spiked up on her arms. Maverick might not be a cowboy, but he carried the same kind genes as his brother.

  “Coffee sounds wonderful. Thank you.” And she could definitely use another cup after Logan’s early morning shenanigans. He’d been up since five thirty, and now, at three in the afternoon, she was running on empty.

  Somehow, even with the load in his arms, he managed to swing the screen door open for her. She stepped closer, took a long whiff of woods and some delicious spicy scent, masculine and definitely too enticing for her liking. He should carry a warning sign. Danger. Hazardous to a woman’s pulse.

  She stole a glance at him. Curly hairs poked out from the open collar. A heavy smattering of whiskers grazed his jaw. Thick sandy colored hair. The curve of his mouth.

  Big mistake.

  He stared at her over Logan’s head, black flecks shifting and warming those silver eyes. Full lips rounded and soft at the corners, revealing two rows of straight teeth that his parents had probably paid big money for.

  “After you.” One brow hiked while he waited. As if he knew that she appreciated what she saw.

  She sucked in a breath. How could she not?

  Red hot attraction burned up her limbs. She steeled her spine, willed her weak legs to move and her heart to cooperate. She wanted a cowboy. Not another gun-toting cop. Attraction is all that she’d allow it to be.

  Once she got her legs moving, she had a hard time controlling their urge to flee, to escape this invisible chain shackling her spirit to his. But she couldn’t. She had a job to do here, and she’d see it through. Kierra and Rebekah were counting on her.

  “Thankfully, I have a few minutes before the happy couple arrives. So coffee sounds divine,” she said, over a shoulder, wincing when she realized she’d just said something similar not more than two minutes ago. But this man did that to her…stole her ability to function normally. Like walking and talking.

  “Three thirty, right?”

  She nodded, preceding him into the homey kitchen.

  “There you are.” Rebekah looked up from whatever list she was working on at the table. Piles of papers and stacks of books sprawled across the wood surface. “Hello, Summer!” Rebekah’s smile brightened even more when she locked onto Logan, still nestled against Maverick’s chest. Her boy hadn’t stayed still this long in…she couldn’t remember. “And good afternoon to you, sweet man!”

  “Good aftnoon, Gwamma Becka,” Logan said. Rebekah had insisted from the beginning that he call her Grandma.

  She just adored this woman, who from day one of meeting, had wrapped loving arms of family around her and her boy. As if they belonged to the Kesters. More than Summer could say for her own flesh and blood family. “Good afternoon, Rebekah. Hope we’re not interrupting anything.” She smiled.

  “Goodness, no. Just planning the menus for the next week and making a grocery list. I could use a break.” Mav’s mother pushed back from the table.

  “Chocwat milk!” Logan shouted. His arm shot out, almost bumping Maverick in the nose. He pointed an index finger at the sippie cup on the counter.

  “Chocolate milk, please.” She reminded him.

  “Chocolate milk pwease,” Logan parroted in his toddler language.

  Maverick lowered her son until his boots hit the wood floor. “There you go, cowboy.”

  Logan scrambled up the bar stool and slurped the milk.

  “Mom, do you mind watching Cowboy here for a few minutes until Slade gets down? We’re taking our coffee out on the front porch.” Maverick reached for two mugs on the counter.

  We are?

  “That’s all right. I…I…I’m—” Could Summer help it if her voice wobbled? He’d caught her off guard.

  “Sure, you guys go on ahead. I have a project I need Logan’s help with, so this is perfect,” Rebekah slid her papers across the table surface, out of reach. She grabbed a box of crayons and paper and sat next to Logan at the counter.

  “All right.” Summer swallowed her protest when Rebekah’s head bent next to Logan’s. Rebekah whispered close to his ear. Logan giggled and got to work coloring the paper.

  Her heart melted at the tinkle of joy coming from her son. Anyway, what would it hurt to sit with Mav? She could use a few moments of blessed peace to collect her thoughts before she started working. Being a single parent, she had so few of them.

  She scoffed. Single parent? What did it matter? Even married, Judd hadn’t been any help. But a man who offered her small patches of time alone? That was new. And, she admitted, she liked it.

  Her heart tumbled to her toes. No!

  The marshal grinned and flicked his cinnamon colored head in the direction of the front porch. His warm fingers grazed hers as he cupped her elbow.

  Shivers danced up her arms. So not good! Time alone with this badge toting cowboy might hurt a lot. Especially if she lost her heart.

  She’d just have to make sure that didn’t happen.

  ****

  “Jennifer, slant your head a little to the left. Lean in to your honey’s chest. Yes, just like that. Now slide your left hand across his heart. We want to show off that gorgeous rock.” The camera hid most of Summer’s profile from Maverick, but her clear voice drifted to him with the soft breeze. “There. Now hold it.”

  Click. Click. And another.

  From his vantage point on the back deck, parked at a table topped by a giant umbrella, Maverick smiled. Summer had picked a beautiful setting for the photo shoot, a woodsy backdrop on the far edge of their property, but close enough that he could check her out in action.

  She was good. No wonder Kierra had hired her as the exclusive photographer for ranch events. Every shot featured genuine expressions by the obviously-so-much-in-love couple. Whether Summer had them smiling or gazing seriously into each other’s eyes, they were sure to be happy with the photographs.

  From the other side of the property, a motor cranked. The four-wheeler revved, loud and obnoxious. The solid whine drowned out Summer’s voice and destroyed the tranquil moment, shattering the solemn poses she’d just achieved from the couple. She angled around, her brow furrowing, then turned back and refocused on the couple.

  Was Fargo working on the mule? Hadn’t his mother mentioned that Fargo and his family would be gone until this evening? Were they back already?

  Might score some points with Summer by asking Fargo to move the four-wheeler somewhere else.

  He’d just made it off the deck when the
four-wheeler shot past him, the tires almost running over his boots. He jerked back, stumbling over the steps. Barely righted himself with a hand to the rail.

  Son of a deuce!

  He was just about to hurl a few choice words at his older brother, but—

  Logan?

  A tiny frame hunched over the steering wheel of the large piece of equipment. A miniature boot pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor. The bright red shape of the superhero on the back of the boy’s black shirt faded as the mule sped farther away.

  “Logan!” The panic in Slade’s high-pitched holler carried all the way from the barn.

  Logan whipped the steering wheel around so that the four-wheeler reversed course. His lips parted to reveal bared teeth. Excitement radiated from his body.

  Summer turned around. The smile slid from her face. Replaced by stark terror.

  Maverick refocused on the youngster, analyzed the big picture.

  Slade was still a good distance away. Although his younger brother’s long legs were gaining ground, a lot could happen before he caught the little guy. Summer tossed the cameras to the ground and abandoned the startled couple.

  “Take your foot off the gas, Logan,” Maverick yelled, chasing. He ignored the spasms of pain that rocketed through his insides.

  Logan switched directions again and headed down the driveway, narrowly missed the couple’s car.

  Four more giant steps, and he’d overtake the pint-sized hijacker. Huffing, he gave it everything he had. Pain blasted through his ribcage. Blinded his vision. Two more. One to go.

  There! He grabbed the frame of the window shield and heaved himself up on the mule. White hot spasms burned his gut. He wrapped an arm around Logan’s midsection and slid the thirty pounds or so over to the passenger seat. Sweat drenched Mav’s forehead and trickled down his back.

  Crisis averted.

  Gasping, he plunked down on the vinyl seat. Pressed the brake and steered to a secluded spot. Didn’t dare loosen his hold on the youngster to press a hand against his broken ribs. This little man might be too trusting now, but life would eventually teach him otherwise.