Cowboy Crazy (The Dalton Boys Book 1) (3 page)

She’d figure out who to call once she crossed that bridge.

“I can see you aren’t from around here. What are you traveling with? Do you have a suitcase?”

“Uh, yeah. Why would I need it?”

When his smile appeared, she wasn’t ready for it. Her breathing hitched. Quickly, she stamped on her attraction. While he wasn’t wearing a wedding band, he worked with his hands and might not wear it regularly.

“Sweetheart, we’re a good two hours from a town with lodging, and even then it’s going to be booked full for the big rodeo this week. I’ll take you home with me to use the phone. My brothers are out of town, and I’ll put you up in one of their rooms until you can make arrangements.”

Tears clung to the roots of her lashes, and she pressed a thumb and forefinger into her eyes, hoping he didn’t see her distress.

He sagged at the knees to peer into her face. “Look, it’s not so bad. My brothers are messy, but Momma will make sure you have clean sheets.”

For some reason, that made her laugh. Relief coursed through her that she was getting help she needed. No, her sudden happiness didn’t have anything to do with him living with his mother and brothers.

“Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” In fact, she couldn’t pay for car repairs. She was on a shoestring.

“Call it Texas hospitality.” He didn’t let his gaze wander over her. She was so used to men ogling her back in Phoenix, his indifference to her appearance seemed odd. She didn’t know whether to feel happy that he wouldn’t rape her or annoyed that he didn’t find her as attractive as she found him.

When she reached into the car and got her purse, her skin prickled. Were his eyes on her? Was he looking at her ass?

She straightened and tossed a look over her shoulder, but found him examining the tire. “Everything okay there?”

“Yes, it’s solid.” He kicked it as if to prove his point.

She retrieved her suitcase from the back seat. Before she wrangled it out completely, he was there, nudging her aside. “Let me.”

He hefted all her belongings in the whole world as if her suitcase weighed as much as a feather pillow. He twitched his head toward the truck, indicating she should walk in front of him.

The inside of his truck was clean but shabby. He placed her suitcase in the bed and got behind the driver’s wheel, taking up so much room, she marveled that he could drive comfortably. And how much denim fabric did it take to clothe him?

Suddenly he turned to her, eyes shining from under the brim of his hat. His coloring was dark, and she wondered about his hair. It was completely obscured under his hat. “Make yerself comfortable...” He floundered. “I don’t even know your name. I’m Hank. Hank Dalton.”

Lord, what a dreamy name, and the way he drawled it sent dark pleasure creeping through her belly.

She stuck out her hand and he clasped it, his touch warm and dry. Hard-working hands. “Charlotte Masterson.”

His eyes twinkled. “Well, Charlotte,” he dragged her name out as if he was tasting a cold beer after a day of backbreaking labor, “welcome to Paradise Valley, population of seven.”

* * *

“Seven? Are you kidding me?”

Damn, she was pretty, especially now that the fear had left her eyes. Somewhere between the time he’d looked under her hood and carried her suitcase for her, she’d come to realize he wasn’t going to molest her.

“Nope. Seven.” He shot her a look. Visions of her lush, round ass danced in his mind, and it was getting harder for him to set the thoughts aside. It’d been a mighty long time since he’d had his hands on a woman—and never a woman like Charlotte. She was prettier than a sunny day after a week of storms. Maybe it was his female-deprived brain talking, but his body said she was sexy as hell. “My parents, Ted and Maggie, married forty-five years. I’m the oldest. Then there’s Cash, Beck, Witt, and Kade.”

She gaped at him. “There’s only one family in the area?”

“Well, if you go on up the road another ten minutes or so you’ll cross paths with the Guthries. You should be relieved one of them didn’t find you along the road.”

She shrank against the seat a little. He went on to distract her from worry she wore on her pretty face.

“Yeah, and the nearest town has one blinker light and a corner market where you can buy feed and gas as well as a few things you can’t grow yourself. You picked the wrong place to break down.”

“I guess so.” She sat primly, maybe a little stiffly. Her jeans were dark blue and as new as they came, contouring to her slender legs and ass like…

He shouldn’t dwell on that too much. He was helping a lady out and taking advantage of her wasn’t on the agenda.

But her toenails were pink.

He released a slow, quiet sigh and tried to keep her talking. That moment she’d come out with the F bomb had caught him off guard. Until that moment, he didn’t know he liked a dirty mouth on a woman. He hadn’t been around that many to know. Also, he hadn’t laughed like that since Cash had duct-taped the toilet seat shut and the most impatient among them, Witt, had needed to go.

“You can roll your window down if you’re hot. Sorry I don’t have air conditioning in this old jalopy.” Of course, he wouldn’t mind if the curly-haired temptress got hot enough to strip off an item of clothing or two.

He patted the dash, trying to soften the blow to his old truck. The old girl seen him through a number of years, but it seemed Charlotte hadn’t been so lucky. A transmission probably cost more than her whole car was worth.

“Thanks.” She took hold of the handle. “I’ve never actually ridden in a vehicle without electric windows.”

“Welcome to backwoods Texas.”

She smiled, light brown curls mussed by the wind. The cut was short, and the soft locks ended just below her jaw, highlighting her delicate bone structure. But she was curved in all the right places, and she had the vocabulary of a truck driver. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her.

“You really don’t know where you’re going?” he asked.

“No.”

“You running?”

She shifted her gaze away. “Just seeking something new.”

“Ah, a gypsy.”

Taken by surprise, she laughed. The sound was full and throaty—he wanted to listen to it all night. Lord have mercy, he was in trouble. A gorgeous damsel in distress in his truck, and with pink toenails?

“I wouldn’t say gypsy. Do you really think the trouble is my transmission?”

“Tell me, did you put the vehicle in park and it wouldn’t move again?”

“Yes.”

“Kade had that happen in one of the old farm trucks once.”

“Were you able to fix it?”

“Yeah. For a lot of money. But maybe I can get some parts from the junkyard and have you on the road again soon.” Something about the way she worried her lower lip with her teeth told him money was tight.

“Will your parents mind an uninvited visitor?”

At that, he chuckled. “Nah. People like us don’t socialize often, so when we do, watch out. Momma will ply you with enough home cooking that you’ll be in a food coma, and Pa will tell you about everything from the price of cattle to how deep the well is.”

“Sounds different.”

“Different from…? Where are you from?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Fair enough.” He pointed out a break in the fence where a post had fallen. “Looks like I’ll be fixing that tomorrow.”

“This is your fence?” She sat up straighter.

“Yep. Cattle and a big spread.” Part of it would be his as soon as he found a wife. From the corner of his eye, he studied Charlotte. It seemed mighty odd that his brothers had left yesterday for the city and a “wife hunt,” and Hank had chosen to stay home. Now a gorgeous little woman broken down practically in front of their house.

Nah, he was just reading into things.

She
was
captivating though. The way the hair fell across her forehead invited his hands. And her tank top molded perfectly to trim waist and small, perky breasts…

His Wranglers grew uncomfortably tight, and he tried not to shift in the seat. “Just a bit farther.”

“So the town you mentioned, there’s no garage there?”

“No. Actually, getting a tow truck out here is gonna be hell too. It would cost a fortune.”

Her brows furrowed.

Yep, he was right. She didn’t have a lot of money in that itty bitty leather handbag that probably had cost as much as a calf at auction. He knew good leather when he saw it.

“After I drop you at the house, I’ll grab a tow bar and go back for your car. The vehicle’s better on the ranch and off the road.”

“Okay.” She sounded uncertain and began to twist her fingers together. Looking at her fingers got him hard in a hurry. How soft would they be? Sure as hell a lot softer than his.

They weren’t painted pink, though—she wore no polish. And no rings.

They bumped along in silence until the house came into view.

She issued a feminine sigh of appreciation. “That’s your house?”

“Yes.” His jeans were damn tight too all of a sudden.

He’d always been proud of the home Pa had built for his family. Two stories with a wide porch running the whole length. It was set against a backdrop of field and sky, looking like a postcard. “I never would have been able to find it if I’d been walking.”

He gave a short laugh. “Probably not if you’d kept to the main road. Ain’t much along that road but animals.”

“I figured that out.”

The driveway had a fresh load of gravel on it, so it wasn’t as bumpy as usual. Eventually the main drive would branch into five others. They just needed the wedding rings.

Prince, their old sheep hound, came barreling out of one of the barns and raced alongside the truck. Charlotte leaned out the window, laughing at his antics.

“That’s Prince. You’d never know he’s thirteen. Walks the ranch every day and runs like the wind. We think it keeps him going.”

“Makes sense.”

He glanced at her. She was sleeker than the girls he’d gone out with before. From her hair to her polished toes, she oozed city. But he liked the way she said that. Maybe she had some country girl in her, after all.

As he parked the truck, she started to open her door, but he was there to give her a hand out. She looked up at him in surprise, and he tipped his hat. “My momma taught me manners.” Manners that wouldn’t go far if he didn’t step away, fast.

“So I see. Thank you.” She accepted his hand, and the minute his fingers brushed her skin, heat rocketed through his system. Silky smooth, and she smelled of berries. He wanted her to rub against him.

Prince circled close and
woofed
.

Hank turned. “It’s all right, boy. Come meet Charlotte.” His legs felt a little wobbly-like. The sensation had nothing to do with the swelling in his jeans—something about the moment made Hank think of what it would be like to bring his bride home.

If he ever found one. He still wasn’t sorry he was missing the wife hunt, though. Finding a curvy woman along the road was more action than he’d had in months. Even if nothing happened, he’d probably have a better story to tell than his brothers.

Prince sniffed her outstretched hand then nudged her fingers. Hank couldn’t blame the dog a bit. He wanted those soft hands all over him too. He shook himself.

“He wants petted, but once you start, be prepared to spend some time on that task. I’ll get your suitcase.”

The walk to the front door raised more visions in him. It might be his overactive imagination and the desire to own that parcel of land, but he wanted to hold her hand. Then crowd into the porch swing with her and talk until the roosters crowed.

If he got lucky, he’d get a taste of her plump lips.

Damn, where
were
his manners? He wasn’t raised to think of ladies this way. But after so much time alone, he felt like a fox circling a tender, juicy chicken.

He opened the front door. “Momma, I’m home!” He stepped aside for Charlotte to enter. When she glanced at him, he brushed his fingers over his brim as he’d been taught.

“Your plate’s in the oven, keepin’ warm! I’m just watching Jeopardy with your father.”

Amusement stretched Charlotte’s beautiful lips, drawing Hank’s attention to them. Need barreled through him like a bucking bull, and his inner rodeo clown had no control over the wild beast.

“Do we have two plates? I brought someone,” he called, counting the seconds until his mother jumped out of her recliner and hurried into the mudroom.

Five, four, three…

Momma came around the corner, shock written on her features. She covered her chest with a hand reddened from hard work. “Why, Hank, who’s your visitor?”

“This here’s Charlotte. Found her broken down along the road and couldn’t leave her. I hope you don’t mind her staying the night until we figure out what to do with her car.”

“Of course I don’t mind! Poor dear. A shock to break down in the middle of nowhere, I’m sure. Come along to the kitchen. I bet you’re starving. Now just have a seat at the counter there and I’ll fix you a plate. How does a glass of sweet tea sound?”

“Fine, thank you.” Charlotte threw him a look as Momma bustled her into the kitchen and seated her on one of the high stools Hank had built himself. Knowing her round bottom was settled on wood he’d worked with his own hands shouldn’t give him this much pleasure.

“Charlotte, meet Maggie Dalton. I’m going to put your suitcase in one of the rooms.”

Momma flapped a hand as if he was an annoying bug and started plying Charlotte with questions.

On the way out of the room, Hank paused in the doorway, looking over the woman seated in his kitchen. Thighs tucked under the counter, spine straight and curly hair floating like a cloud above her shoulders.

He scuffed his knuckles along his jaw. He was in for a long night.

Chapter Two

Charlotte didn’t realize how hungry she was until she forked the first bite of chicken and gravy into her mouth. Mrs. Dalton watched her while she sipped tea from a Mason jar.

“This is amazing food,” Charlotte said.

“Thank you, dear. It’s one of my boys’ favorite meals.”

“And you have five boys.”