Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (66 page)

He stopped at the edge of the grass, both to assess the situation and to catch his breath. His heart sank as he studied the two twelve-footers that lay on the bank, their mouths agape. From the water, a third set of eyes stared intently toward the shore. Judging the distance from the gators to the spot where Emma had frozen, and from there to where he stood, Colt swallowed a curse.

“Emma,” he called softly. “I’m gonna get you out of this.”

“Co-olt.”

Her panic-tinged voice plunged a knife into his chest. “Just stay right where you are,” he ordered. Wishing like heck he could follow the same advice, he edged into the clearing. “Nine times out of ten, a gator’ll head straight for the water,” he said, keeping his voice low and even despite his hammering heart.

Though he hadn’t lied, it was that tenth time that had tied his stomach in knots. Cold-blooded or not, mama gators could get a mite testy when it came to protecting their young. With her nest not a dozen yards behind him, the odds weren’t good that this one or her mate would turn tail and run. The big reptiles moved fast when they wanted.

Without taking his eyes off the animals, he sidled up to Emma. “I’ll take Bree.” He reached for the little girl, who clung to her mother. He let his voice drop into the same tone his dad had used when he’d been young and stupid and gotten himself in trouble. “We’re gonna play a game, but you have to let me hold you.” He pried tiny fingers loose and whisked Bree onto his shoulders.

Off to his left, something crackled through the underbrush.
Time to get moving.

Pitching his voice below the range of little ears, he whispered, “Okay. So here’s what we’re gonna do. Slowly. Very. Slowly. We’re going to back ourselves out of here. That big male—” he aimed his chin toward the smaller gator “—he’ll probably ignore us. The one in the water’ll stay put. It’s the female we need to worry about. If she charges, run. Fast as you can. Straight down the trail. Don’t stop. Not till you’re well past her nest. You got that?”

Though her brown eyes widened, Emma nodded.

“So here we go.” Watching to make sure they moved together, he took a careful step. “So far, so good,” Colt hissed.

They made it halfway out of the clearing before Emma’s foot landed on a twig.

Crack!

With a blur of churning legs, the smaller of the two alligators slid into the water. The other one did a one-eighty so fast it made Colt’s head spin. Looking even larger and more menacing on its feet, the animal stood its ground. A threatening hiss vibrated in the still air. The noise sent a shiver down Colt’s spine.

“She’s gonna charge. I’ll distract her while you make a run for it.”

The panic in Emma’s eyes deepened into downright terror.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed. “Bree and I will be right behind you.” Deftly he swept his hat from his head. “Ready. Set. Run!”

Holding the Stetson by its brim, he flung it, Frisbee-style, past the animal’s nose. Feet flying, jaws snapping, the gator struck the hat while Emma moved at warp speed in the opposite direction. Matching her stride for stride, Colt caught up with her when they were halfway to the house.

One run-in with the local wildlife exceeded his daily limit, and he glanced around, making sure no other varmints lingered nearby. When he was sure they were safe, he slid Bree into her mother’s arms. Emma cradled the little girl’s head to her chest while Colt took a deep breath.

“In Florida, anywhere there’s a mudhole, you’re gonna have gators. You gotta watch out for things like that.”

The informative tone he’d aimed for must have missed its mark because, pale as a fresh T-shirt, Emma pinned him with narrowed brown eyes.

“Too bad no one mentioned it. That might have been nice to know, you know,
before
we left the house.”

A warmth that had nothing to do with exertion or heat flooded his face. Educating her, that was also his job. A job he’d failed to do.

“You’re right. I was late. I got...” What could he say? Certainly not that he’d worked in the barn all morning in order to banish her from his thoughts. He let out a slow, unsteady breath. “...tied up.”

Emma brushed a hand through her daughter’s tangled hair. “You okay, baby?”

“Mommy, you’re holding me too tight.” Bree pulled away, peeking up at him from her mother’s arms. “I liked riding on you. We went fast!”

“Want to do it again?” At Bree’s vigorous nod, Colt reached for the child. But when his fingers brushed against Emma, his stomach sank. The woman who’d seemed so brave, so trusting, shook like a palsied calf.

The minute he settled her daughter onto his shoulders, Colt drew the petite brunette to him, surprised when she practically stumbled into his arms. An urge to keep her there forever surged through him as her head landed on his chest. He cupped her ice-cold fingers in his warm ones.

“Mr. Colt, we fed the fish,” Bree prattled from her perch. “We saw a turtle and a great big turtle’s nest. I wanted to see the baby turtles, but Mommy said no. We saw birds. Mommy called one bird a crane, but that’s silly. Cranes build buildings. Where we used to live, we saw lots of them.”

“I’m sorry,” Colt whispered into Emma’s hair. “My fault. This was all my fault.”

He hung on, determined not to let her go until her legs stopped quaking. For long seconds, they clung to one another while Bree chirped overhead. At last, he felt Emma’s chest expand. She stirred, the movement triggering a sudden awareness of slim hips pressed against his thighs, his arm around a trim waist, firm breasts against his...

He released her and stepped back.

What had he been thinking?
Nothing,
he told himself. He hadn’t been thinking about anything. Certainly not white picket fences or the kind of roots that didn’t figure into his life on the road. No, he was only doing what he was supposed to do—keeping Emma and Bree safe. Nothing more. Nothing less. But despite his stern lecture, he threaded his fingers through Emma’s. Her hand in his, he led the way toward the house.

“Hey, Little Bit,” he called to the child who sat, lighter than a feed sack, on his shoulders. “How’s the view up there?”

“Good!” Bree leaned back, her viselike hold on his forehead tightening. “I can see the whole world from here.”

Colt clamped a steadying hand on the little girl’s bottom. “I’ll show you more stuff this afternoon when we go for a ride around the rest of the ranch.”

“We might have to wait on that.” Emma searched his face, the odd expression on her own letting him know he’d missed something. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, don’t you?”

Though spending more time with Emma and Bree was exactly what he wanted to do, Colt shoved his disappointment way down deep where it wouldn’t show. There’d be other times, other chances, he reminded himself. He even managed a casual, “Yep, I reckon you’re right.”

Minutes later, he stood, watching mother and daughter walk into the house without him. He told himself he ought to be glad Emma had canceled their tour for the afternoon. Especially since it gave him time to accomplish a few other things on his agenda. Like taking a shower. He could muck stalls and fight alligators without breaking a sweat, but put him within five feet of the feisty little cook, and a shower moved to the top of his list.

A cold one.

Chapter Eight

Emma squinted at the clock on the nightstand. Two in the morning. She flipped over onto her back and stretched one arm above her head. When alligators still prowled the backs of her eyelids, she admitted defeat. No matter how many cute, fluffy sheep gaily jumping over fences she counted, she’d never be able to relax as long as every one of them landed in a puddle of snapping jaws and swishing tails.

She eased herself out of bed. Careful not to disturb the child sprawled across the mattress, she tucked the covers beneath a tiny chin and pressed a kiss against her daughter’s cheek. Bree didn’t so much as stir.

“Thank goodness,” she whispered. She had Colt to thank for the child’s peaceful sleep. The man had turned their brush with danger into an adventure for her four-year-old. Over dinner, he’d shown even more of his protective side when he’d impressed his men with a lecture on watching out for all their guests, including her daughter. Especially her daughter.

A slow sigh escaped Emma’s lips. The man was full of surprises, not the least of which was the moment she’d spent in his arms. She could still feel his hands at her waist. Still hear the steady thudding of his heart. Hours later, she caught his faint scent whenever she ran a hand through her hair. None of which helped her relax. Quite the opposite, it stirred an odd restlessness within her.

Tugging a sweatshirt over her pajamas, she headed downstairs for the one tried-and-true method of calming her nerves. In the pantry, she gathered ingredients for one of her favorite recipes. She set to work, confident her activities wouldn’t disturb Bree. As for Colt, well, the rancher’s temporary quarters were on the far side of the house. She doubted the noise she made in the kitchen would reach him, though it took more effort than she liked to resist a quick peek in on him to double-check.

Soon, the makings for a special cake littered the counter. Dense and dark, with a rich peanut butter filling, the dessert would make the perfect thank-you gift for the man who had rapidly made a habit of saving her daughter’s life. Only, she had a sneaking suspicion that Colt Judd, with his brilliant blue eyes and easy swagger, was even more dangerous than wild animals.

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 sides 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, Ty 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.