A Certain Kind of Hero (42 page)

She nodded, and then in a small voice asked, “You?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Over in the corner, one of the dogs yawned.

“Who asked you?” Tate's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “I'd have to say this is the best I've been in I don't know how long.”

“That's for me to say, isn't it?”

“Pardon me.” He traced his finger along the top of her shoulder before he kissed it. “Was I okay?”

“Best I've ever—” she pressed her face against his neck and whispered “—
had,
and I know I shouldn't say that.”

“Give it a rest, honey.” He caught himself and groaned. “I didn't mean ‘honey.' I meant—” he kissed her again “—for both of us to give it a rest. This whole routine between us. Just give it a rest and let ourselves be together the way we've both been dreamin' about lately.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. “Haven't we? I know I have.”

“And now you know I have. And I shouldn't.” He groaned, and she stretched her arm around him, hugging him close.
“I'm not regretting anything, except… Well, just look what happened tonight. Jody got out of the house without my knowledge. Where was my head?”

“Were you thinking about me? Were you thinkin' that the weather was bad, and I'd been outside for quite a while, freezin' my—”

“—tail off, I know. It's a nice one, too.” She reached down and patted one rock-hard cheek. “Yes, I was thinking about you, hoping you were all right, wondering any one of the many things I've been wondering about you.”

“Satisfy any of that curiosity tonight?”

“Satisfied…something. Not the questions, but—”

“The woman.” Thank God. He'd been a little worried at first. “That's good. You're more woman than anyone I've ever known, my pretty Black-Eyed Susan, and you're a challenge and a half.”

“Really,” she said lightly. “I don't know who you're comparing me to, but when I said ‘the best I've had—'” She huddled against him, as if she wanted him to hide her from something. “I didn't mean it the way it sounded.”

“It didn't sound any
way.
I knew what you meant.” He turned her in his arms, belly to belly, knees to knees. “You need a man, Amy. There's no shame in that.”

“Then why does it sound so…shameful?”

“Maybe because—” he kissed the soft swell of her breast, and she sighed “—you know I'm the man you need.”

She groped for a denial, but none would come when he touched her breast as reverently as he did. Silence, followed by soft, mingled breaths and appreciative sighs, spoke of sweet accord. He claimed his point with a kiss.

A
s quickly as it had come, the Montana blizzard blew across the Dakota plains to become a Minnesota blizzard, leaving drifts of snow glistening in the morning sun. Jody had already forgotten the terror of blowing snow sweeping him across the yard on Christmas night. Snow pillows were friendlier, and he was ready to play in them. Amy bundled him up in his snowsuit and sent the dogs outside with him. “Stay right in the yard,” she warned.

“I'm going to make a snow castle.”

“I want to be able to see it from the window, okay?”

She later took her coffee into the living room, tapped on the window and waved. Jody waved back and pointed his mittened hand at the snow angel he'd just made. Then he waved again, and Amy turned to find Tate standing just behind her, waving back.

“You certainly move quietly,” she said.

“Not as quietly as you do.” The smile in his eyes said they
shared some new secrets. “Did you find the quarters a little cramped last night?”

She glanced back out the window. New secrets posed new problems for her this morning.

“I didn't expect you to stay,” he said quietly. “Just wanted you to know I missed you.”

“I don't want Jody to think…” She kept her eyes on what was going on outside the window. Her child was playing with his plastic snow-block maker, thinking only that his mother and his new cowboy idol were inside watching him. “Obviously, he knows that moms and dads sleep in the same bed. I don't want to confuse him with other…ideas.”

“You're still a good mother, Amy. A good woman.” Tate stepped up close behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “What happened last night didn't change that.”

She closed her eyes, allowing the light, woodsy scent of his after-shave to fill her head with erotic images of the night before, but only briefly. It was as risky an indulgence as enjoying the feel of his strong hands. She opened her eyes wide and trained them on her busy little boy as she gripped the warm stoneware mug in both hands. “You mean, what happened last night with Jody?” she asked tightly.

“You know what I mean.” He leaned close to her ear, his chin brushing the thick braid that lay over one shoulder. “I mean, what happened with me.”

“I went looking for it, didn't I?” Her voice went a little hoarse. She cleared her throat, determined to be nothing more than matter-of-fact. “I asked for it.”

“It?”

“You.” She set her coffee on the lamp table and turned to look him in the eye. “I went looking for you, Tate. I wanted
you.
”

It galled her that the confession clearly pleased him. He
tried to take her in his arms, and she saw the confusion she caused him when she stepped out of his reach. She bolstered her resolve by telling herself that he was taking certain things for granted after just one night. He didn't understand her situation at all. Just like a man.

“I've decided to sell out, come spring.”

He stared, confounded by the news. “When did you make that decision?”

“To sell out?” She shrugged, turning to the window again. “It's always been one of the options under consideration. Lately I've had to think about it more seriously. I have two small children. It's foolish for me to think I can give them the attention they need while I'm trying to run a business that demands…” She spared him a glance. “Well, you know what it demands.”

“A lot of work. You need help.”
You need me, Amy.

“Hired help isn't always reliable.”
But I do need you, Tate.
“If I can get through lambing, I'll make some money. My herd will be worth more with the lambs on the ground. But I need to know—” Watching Jody arrange a row of snow blocks gave her time to swallow some pride.
I need you, but how long can I count on you?
“How long can you stay, Tate?”

Now he was watching Jody, too, and his answer came without emotion. “I told you I'd get you through the winter.”

“Last night complicated things, didn't it?”

“How so?” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “You think I'm gonna require more than room and board?”

“You didn't require anything.” She faced him. “I was the one.”

“Amy—”

“I want to pay you, Tate.” She
had
to pay him. She knew it wouldn't keep him there any longer than this whim of his lasted, but it was the only way she could make peace with the
way she felt about their tenuous arrangement. He was doing her too damn many favors.

“For what?” he demanded.

“For all that you've done.”

“I've done what you needed me to do.”

“Yes.” She folded her arms, hugging herself tightly. “More than you bargained for. More than you hired yourself out to—”

“Stop it!” he growled. “Why can't you just ask me?” He closed his hands over her shoulders and recited the words carefully, as though she might be hard of hearing. “‘I need you, Tate.' Is that so hard to say?”

She lifted her chin and turned her face away. One, two deep breaths helped her fight back the tears that threatened to betray her. She'd admitted to the mistake of wanting him, but
wanting
was different. With the exception of an occasional human indulgence, she routinely did without many of the things she wanted. Wanting could be kept under control, but needs had to be met. The children's needs, her own needs—it was up to Amy to provide for those. It always had been.

“Ken left some good horses,” she told Tate in her most controlled, informative tone. “All registered stock, but they're not saddle-broke. I know horse prices aren't great right now, but I want you to take your pick. For every month that you've been here, every month that you stay, I want you to have one of those horses.”

“What kind of services are you trying to pay me for, Amy?”

She pressed her lips together firmly. She wouldn't let his anger scare her. She could feel the power in the hands that gripped her shoulders, but she could also feel his restraint. He couldn't intimidate her. No man could. He could leave today if he wanted to, and she would get along fine without him.

“I'll stay. I told you that.” He released her, his arms dropping heavily to his sides. “I'll stay and do what needs doing. Herd your sheep, deliver your baby, have a talk with your son—whatever.”

She stared, startled by the knowledge that deep down she believed in his promise.

“Oh, yeah, and I can also take you to bed and give you the best damn lovin' you've ever had.” He quirked a cocky smile. “Jack-of-all-trades, that's me. All that for a few broomtails?”

She affected a careless shrug. “It's all I can come up with right now.”

“Well, I ain't that cheap, lady. I'm gonna cost you dearly.”

“The wages of sin, I suppose.”

“What sin? You mean what I got last night? Was that supposed to be my wages and your sin?” He took advantage of the momentary paralysis of her tongue. “Or was it the other way around? Damn, you've got me confused.”

“I don't want to take advantage of you,” she said tightly.

“Likewise,” he assured her with a smug grin. “So I'm not about to take my wages out in trade. You'll have to come up with something better.”

“I wasn't
offering
to pay for your…” She was tempted to put a bag over that grin. “I need your help, Tate,” she said, forcing an even tone, “and I'm not suggesting anything—”
Stop that aggravating nodding.
“—unseemly. I'm only trying to—”

“That's a start. ‘I need your
help,
Tate.'” He was on his way out of the room, wagging his finger and being a damn smart aleck as he went. “I like the sound of that. That's gettin' there.”

“Where are you going?”

“The baby's cryin'.” He paused. At first it was quiet, but
then came the muffled squall. Tate's tone mimicked her at her most indulgently instructive. “I'm going to pick her up. And if I had the equipment,” he said, hands on his T-shirt-clad chest, “I'd feed her, too. But even a jack-of-all-trades has his limits.”

 

He knew she didn't want to need him. Needing his
help
was difficult enough for Amy, but needing
him
—needing Tate Harrison—was like having the flu. She figured she would get over it. And maybe she would. If she did, hell, he'd never really pictured himself being tied down, especially not to a bunch of sheep and a piece of ground just outside Overo, Montana, and halfway to nowhere.

The Christmas blizzard gave way to a January thaw, and Tate used the respite to his advantage. He built the slatted barn door he'd mentally devised before Amy had declared her intention to sell out. His design allowed for a choice of doors. Amy was impressed. She also liked his wall-mounted hayracks and grain feeders, which he modestly claimed were “real easy to knock together.” She was less excited when he rigged up a corral, using portable steel fence panels, and began breaking horses.

He figured he could have at least four or five green-broke by spring thaw. He didn't have time to make good saddle horses out of them, but some of them had potential. He enjoyed lecturing Jody on the subject, pointing out each animal's strengths and weaknesses, from conformation to temperament. He predicted which ones would really be worth something when Amy decided to sell them and lamented the fact that they would be worth even more if he had more time to work with them. The summer, maybe.

Given the chance, Jody would make a good horseman someday, if Amy would ever ease up on the rules. He had
to stay off the fence, stay in the pickup, stay away from the horses when Tate wasn't around, stay away from the hooves, stay away from the teeth, and on and on. To her credit, Amy never said, “Your dad was killed by a horse,” but her distress was apparent every time she came out to the corral when Tate was working the horses. And it annoyed the hell out of him every time she called Jody into the house because he'd been “bothering Tate long enough.”

“Nobody in this house bothers me except you,” he told her privately when she came out to the corral one day. “And you bother me plenty.”

“Nobody's got you tied to the hitching post, cowboy. You can mosey on anytime.”

“Cute.” He watched the boy and his trusty stick-horse disappear into the toolshed, where he'd been sent to fetch a leather punch. “Are you trying to keep Jody away from me?”

“Of course not. He loves you like a brother.”

“Brother?” He felt slighted, and feeling slighted made him feel mean. He gave her a mean-spirited smile. “What's the matter with
uncle?
You don't like that word?”

“Big brothers eventually move on, and they never realize how much little brothers miss them.”

“Yeah, well, Kenny was like a brother to me, so the analogy doesn't quite work.”

Jody appeared in the doorway of the toolshed. He waved the leather punch in the air, and Tate nodded his approval.

“You're right about one thing, though,” Tate confided absently. He was pleased to see that Jody wasn't forgetting to close the door, and that he was carrying the tool back at a sedate walk, exactly as instructed. “The boy loves me. Unconditionally, no questions asked. And I love him right back the same way.” He adjusted his hat as he looked Amy
in the eye. “Believe it or not, I am capable of that. I don't care whose kid he is, I love him like my own.”

She believed him. Now that she knew he was capable of giving more of himself than she'd ever thought possible, her heart ached all the more with the need to ask for another little piece of him for herself. But she was too proud. He'd been spending more of his evenings in town lately, which she regarded as a warm-up activity for a man with itchy feet. She tried not to lie awake and listen for the sound of his pickup. When she heard it, she tried not to notice what numbers were illuminated on her bedside clock. And when she didn't hear it, she tried not to imagine what or who might be keeping him out so late.

 

The month of February was torn off the Overo Farm and Ranch Co-Op calendar, and March came in with a lamb.

“We've got a baby comin',” Tate announced from the back door as he pulled off his work gloves.

“Already?” Amy pulled the plug on the dishwater and reached for a hen-and-chick print towel. “You're sure?”

“I suspect the signs are about the same for a ewe as they are for a cow or a mare.” Tate tipped his hat back and grinned. “Human females like to keep you guessin', but you take their clothes off, the signs are probably pretty much the same.”

“That's true. That's absolutely true.” From the look in his eye, she could have sworn he was just as excited about the prospect of lambing as she was. Maybe he was the wolf at her door. “Your lunch is ready.”

Tate's news seemed to wake up the house. Jody turned off the Saturday-morning cartoons, and Karen called from her crib. But Amy had to hurry out to the barn and see for herself what was going on. She'd counted the days and figured on almost another week before lambing would start. Now she
would have to count on Tate, who was helping himself to a cup of coffee, and Jody, who was slurping up a bowl of cereal. They would have to spell her from a few duties while she did the job she felt called to do.

“You'll change your mind about sheep when you see the lambs, Tate. They're just as cute as—” She put Karen in his arms and smiled when the baby grabbed his chin. “Well, not as cute as
human
babies, but cuter than calves. I forgot to tell you about the lambing pens.”

“I found them,” he said. “I've already got a couple set up, and as soon as I have a cup of coffee…” He smiled down at Karen, who was trying to examine his teeth. “A cup of coffee and a couple of little baby fingers…”