Tempting the Cowboy (12 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Rylan looked up from decorating cupcakes for Birdie’s birthday party the next day to find a white envelope sliding across the counter in her direction. She flinched in surprise, thinking she was alone in the house. Tucker stood on the other side, a teasing grin on his face.

“I’ll trade you this letter for that cupcake.” He pointed to a miniature vanilla cake topped with buttercream frosting and colorful sugar butterflies. Rylan couldn’t help but smile. Tucker and Cole looked alike, but Tucker was easygoing to Cole’s tense and always had a ready smile to Cole’s more serious nature.

“Depends on if you’re trying to pawn junk mail off on me or not.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and reached for the letter. He tapped it on the counter, withdrawing it when her hand snaked over the counter. Rylan raised her brows in challenge and slowly slid the cupcake at him, blocking it by covering it loosely with her palm when he tried to grab it.

“Ah, well played.” He tossed the letter down, grabbed the treat with an
mmm
sound that made her snort. There had to be a thirteen-year-old trapped in that big, muscular body. Observant of the way he continued to eyeball the remaining cupcakes, Rylan moved them out of his reach as she flipped the envelope over. The law office’s logo caught her eye immediately, and by the thickness of what was folded inside, she wasn’t sure she was going to like what it contained. The ruling on the case against her could come at any time.

She looked at it, sweat breaking out along her hairline. If it was bad, wouldn’t her lawyer have called? He was letter-happy and usually corresponded with her that way, and until right now, she’d been fine with that. No news was good news, and she hadn’t had any news since the last correspondence, which had been a bill and not actually information.

“Everything okay?” Tucker licked frosting from his fingers.

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied, taking off her apron. “Ah, Birdie is napping and Maeve is in the office. Mind if I take a minute?”

“I’ll hang around for another cupcake.” Apparently, she should have made Tucker his own batch. She handed over a chocolate cake this time, wagged a warning finger at him not to take any more, and slipped out the back door. The letter stared at her from the passenger seat of the truck as she went down the driveway, found a path that veered to the right and took it, wanting space between herself and civilization. If the news was bad, she was going to need a minute—or one hundred of them—alone.

She parked in the middle of the field. She took a few deep breaths as she flipped the radio until a rock station came in clear. She cranked the volume, the truck vibrating with the boom of bass and screaming vocals. The music quelled her anxiety just enough that she could breathe and rip open the letter.

Rylan,

I’m glad to tell you that the Martin family has dropped the civil suit against you. After taking time to grieve and process what happened, the family felt you were in no way responsible for your husband’s actions and have been through enough trauma with the deaths of your husband and child. They asked me to pass along their condolences and best wishes.

This means that no further legal action can be taken against you, and your financial assets are your own. I hope this helps bring peace and healing to you, as well, Rylan. Please call me if you feel the need.

All the best,

Harry Latimer

Relief came with a hefty dose of nausea. The letter crumpled in her hand while she cried. No more lawsuits. No more threatening legal letters. It was settled. She hadn’t done anything to the victim, but her husband’s actions had given Rylan some measure of guilt by proxy. Harry hadn’t thought the case would be ruled in the Martins’ favor, but they had to take it seriously, go through the motions. And she’d had to live with the constant reminder, the constant threat, that her past would strip her of her future.

Her savings would have been gone, her credibility as a police officer further soiled. She’d already been snubbed in Madison as the wife of the judge who’d committed vehicular homicide. Then when a prostitute had come forward and exposed his taboo extracurricular activities, Rylan’s chances of ever working in law enforcement in the district had disappeared completely.

The music cycled through three songs while she slumped in the seat, hand to her forehead, crying. It felt good to cry, to get it out. Rylan let the next song play to the end before clicking off the radio. The absence of music made her ears ring with silence.

“Not the type of music we usually listen to around here.” The deep voice made her jump and hit her head against the window frame. Cole leaned over the saddle, looking in the truck window. The music had been so loud she hadn’t heard him ride up. He was shirtless, chaps and dark jeans hugging his legs, the damn hat tipped over his forehead.

“Jesus, Cole, you fucking scared me.” Rylan wiped at her wet cheeks, but hot tears were still spilling over. She turned away, though there was no doubt Cole had seen them.

“Hmmm, listen to that language from our favorite housekeeper.” His playful smirk didn’t help the struggle inside her. “Want to tell me about it?” Cole backed the horse up a little.

“How’d you know I was here?” Rylan crossed her arms and sniffed. Cole’s face bunched in what might have been sympathy. His bare arms crossed over the pommel, his chest muscles bulging.

“I didn’t. Was riding the fence and saw the truck.” Cole dismounted and leaned an elbow on the open window, surrounding her with the scent of masculine sweat, horse, and dust. She closed her eyes with a shake of her head. Fresh tears overwhelmed her, and she buried her face in her arms. This was when most men ran away, and Rylan fully expected him to leave her—wanted him to—so she could let it all out on her own.

Instead he flung the truck door open and pulled her out, straight up against his chest and into his arms where her face found the comfort of his sun-kissed and work-slick skin. And there was no place she’d rather be. All the struggles over internalizing everything faded as Rylan sank into the sheer power of his body and his willingness to support her. Cole stood steady, breathing with her until the panic passed, even his heartbeat encouraging hers to slow, to just trust him. And she did. He made it impossible to do otherwise.

And then he was kissing her hair and smoothing tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Ah, sweetheart,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?” That he even cared, when they’d sworn to be nothing more than willing bed partners, made her cry harder.

“I’m just so relieved,” she finally managed. He was quiet while she struggled to regain control. It didn’t matter if she shared this with him anymore, she supposed. Where she’d wondered before what he’d think about her if he knew, it didn’t matter now. She was cleared.

“Why?” He took her hand. The cleft in his chin was hidden by dark, day-old stubble, but she knew it was there and wanted to touch her finger to it. His eyes blazed ocean green, brilliant against his tan skin and the dark wash of ebony hair that whisked from beneath his hat and fell over his brow.

She took a deep breath and wiped her cheeks. “I was being sued for half a million dollars.” The golden tan of Cole’s face blanched. Rylan sniffed and hurried on. “My husband got drunk and killed himself and an eighty-year-old grandmother when he crashed head-on into her Saturn. Her family had a civil suit against me but decided to drop it.” She took a step back, her fingers curling around his hand.

“Holy shit, Rylan—”

“There’s more.” She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. His fingers squeezed hers. No sense in only telling him half of it.

“Okay…”

“Our eighteen-month-old daughter, Rachel, was in the car with him.”

Cole’s hand fell away. Rylan cupped her mouth and turned to the truck, barely believing she was telling him. She’d wished before that she’d been strong enough to tell him—it seemed important somehow—but the time had never felt right.

“Rachel had gone to day care two half-days a week. I’d usually picked her up, but the car wouldn’t start that afternoon, so Peter picked her up after a case at the courthouse. He’d said they were going to go shopping, but he ended up drinking a bottle of vodka while he drove around in the car…with Rachel inside.” She shook her head, pinching her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger as the memories came on instant replay in her brain.

“After I found out about his hooker obsession, I asked for a divorce. But he… He threatened to have me blackballed from law enforcement, would use his money and his power to ruin me and take Rachel away. He was going to take my daughter away from me. Despite everything he’d put us through, I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to him.”

She turned to Cole. He was rigid, his hands hanging at his sides, motionless. Expressionless.

“I should have just left him. I should have been brave enough to walk out the door with Rachel and not care what he might do later. But I didn’t… She died that night, and he did exactly what he promised. He left me with nothing.”

Before she could inhale, Cole pulled her hard against his body and crushed her with his arms crossed over her back. His chest and abdomen clenched in a long, hard exhale.

“Jesus Christ, Rylan. I don’t… I can’t even…” His cheek pressed against the top of her head, his arms tightening until her ribs started to ache. She clung to him, and they were silent for a long time. When his arms finally loosened, she glanced up to see heavy sadness in his eyes.

“I can put the lawsuit behind me, but a big part of me feels like I deserved to lose. Like it was a punishment for not being strong enough. I took a bullet to bring justice to four women I had never met the night I brought the rapist down. But…I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to him for my own daughter’s sake.”

“Stop. Rylan. Stop.” Cole’s fingers threaded through her hair as he placed a warm kiss on her brow.

Her insides melted at his gentleness, her heart aching for him. God, she could love him so easily—just fall right into him and hang on tight. If only she could… Emotions were turning her thoughts into uninhibited and uncontrollable word salad. Even if she’d tried to hold back her inner feelings, it wouldn’t have worked.

“It would be so easy to fall in love with you, Cole. I thought that maybe once I put this lawsuit behind me…that if we ever decided to take it further, I
could
.” He turned to stone, even his chest hitching and holding. “I would let myself, but I can’t.” She touched his jaw, the contact seeming to jerk him from his stupor. He grabbed her wrist lightly.

“Why?” The simple question told her that he’d thought about taking it further, too.

Rylan clenched her eyes as tears fell. “Because I can’t ever be a mother again.”

Pins and needles assaulted Cole’s scalp and raced down his spine. He stared at her, knowing he should say something. Why wouldn’t words come? His mind was reeling from everything she’d confessed. The empty feeling he’d gotten from the heavy anguish in her voice when she relayed how Peter threatened to take Rachel away was getting worse.

He was going to use his money and his power to take her away.

A tight clench made it hard for Cole to breathe as a wall of resistance built up inside. He wasn’t going to think about the pang of familiarity—and surprisingly, the guilt—her words brought him. He thought of Livy and how easily she’d taken what he offered in exchange for Birdie. He wouldn’t feel guilty about that.

He met Rylan’s gaze, knowing she was expecting some kind of reaction from him. The truth was he didn’t know exactly how he felt just then. There were so many things—relief that her legal troubles had nothing to do with deviance on her part, joy that she’d trusted him enough to share her secrets with him, a sudden hope over the idea of having her love, fear that his past would turn her away. And then, the realization that it didn’t matter because she’d just said she couldn’t be a mother again.

If there wasn’t a place for Birdie in her heart, there wasn’t a place for him either.

Rylan’s throat moved as she swallowed hard. She lowered her eyes, and he knew she realized he was at a loss for words.

“Do you mean that you physically can’t have any more children? Because, that’s—” Rylan shook her head to interrupt him.

“I mean, I can’t…in here.” She put a hand over her heart, fresh tears glistening in her eyes. The empty cavity in him filled up with weights, dragging him down. He wanted to understand, but the baser side of his brain, the one that needed to protect Birdie, wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m scared, Cole,” she whispered. “I’m scared that if I let Birdie in, I’m going to forget Rachel.”

“Oh, hell.” Her words were raw and they killed him. No wonder she’d melted down while reading to Birdie last night. He should say something to comfort her, reassure her, but he couldn’t. On numb legs, Cole turned his back. He took a deep breath, confused and dumbstruck at the same time. Birdie was already attached to Rylan. All he could envision was Birdie falling completely in love with Rylan, and Rylan walking away.

Fuck. She’d walk away from them both because he was one little jump away from being in love with her himself. Her breath shuddered behind him, and a heavy sting pushed behind his eyes. He couldn’t let Birdie’s little heart be ripped out. He just couldn’t.

“Please, Cole. Say something.”

He reached for the horse’s reins, gathered them in his left hand. Rylan gave a desperate gasp.

“Cole, please.”