Vicki Thompson - Midnight Thunder

That had gone well enough that she’d started dating again. Although she was currently unattached, she’d had two serious boyfriends since Cade. She’d told herself that she’d moved on.

But if just hearing his voice on the phone had turned her into a quivering mess, she’d been kidding herself. When he’d said he wasn’t alone, she’d felt sick to her stomach at the thought of him bringing a woman back here. Discovering he was traveling with a cat instead had made her giddy with relief. She wasn’t over Cade Gallagher, not by a long shot.

After putting away the pitchfork, she returned to the house and used her phone to look up the driving distance from Colorado Springs to Sheridan. Seven hours, give or take. That meant he’d show up before dawn. She had more than six hours to wait, and she should spend part of those sleeping. But that might be easier said than done.

She wandered through the house that she knew just as well as the one she’d grown up in. This rambling place with its five bedrooms, big kitchen with a rec room attached, comfy living room and wide front porch felt like home, too. Her little duplex in Sheridan was fine for now, but she dreamed of owning something like this eventually.

Maybe she’d play a little pool to wind down. The old table in the middle of the rec room had doubled as a dining table after the number of boys had topped out at eleven. A piece of thick plywood had been laid on top and folding chairs placed around it. In those days Rosie had hired a woman to help her cook, but the boys had been expected to clean up after themselves.

The balls were racked and the pool cues lined up. Maybe she wouldn’t play, after all. It would only remind her of Cade, his green gaze intense as he focused on sending the eight ball into the pocket. Damon sometimes beat him, but nobody else stood a chance.

Turning out the overhead light, she walked back into the living room. She sat on the cushy sofa in front of the unlit fireplace and pulled off her boots. How empty the house felt without Herb and Rosie. They were supposed to be enjoying their well-deserved retirement, not sitting in the hospital worrying about whether Rosie had a serious health problem.

It wasn’t fair, but getting to know the foster boys who’d stayed here had taught Lexi that life wasn’t fair. Most of their stories were sad and quite often had left scars. She’d seen Cade’s physical scars, but she hadn’t given enough thought to his mental ones when she’d demanded a commitment.

An afghan Rosie had crocheted lay across the back of the sofa. Lexi pulled it over herself and snuggled down on one of the soft throw pillows. Whether or not Cade had changed in five years, she certainly had.

Back then she’d thought marriage to Cade was all she wanted in the world. Instead her career as a riding instructor had expanded beyond her wildest hopes. She still taught locally, but her reputation had spread and she’d been asked to give clinics all over the state.

If her business continued to grow, she could expect to have requests from other parts of the country. Marriage was the furthest thing from her mind these days. That was something to hold on to as she dealt with her feelings about Cade.

Although he could still throw her for a loop, she wasn’t the needy woman he’d left. Yes, he’d been sex personified five years ago, but he could have changed, too. And with any luck, he’d grown fat.

Smiling at the thought of a pudgy Cade Gallagher, she drifted off to sleep. Of course she dreamed about being naked in his arms. They were making wild love that caused the headboard to bang against the wall. Odd, because she’d never shared a bed with him, just the back of his pickup.

He called her name, and she... Hold on a minute. That wasn’t a headboard banging against the wall. That was someone knocking on the front door. Cade.

“Lexi?” More knocking. “You in there?”

“Yeah!” She threw off the afghan and scrambled to her feet. “Coming!” Then she thought of her dream and giggled. The grandfather clock chimed four thirty. He’d made damned good time considering he’d been pulling a horse trailer.

Finger-combing her hair, she padded in her sock feet over to the door. Adrenaline pumped through her as she unlocked it. Please let him be fat. Her prayer went unanswered. Cade stood in the glow from the porch light looking lean and muscled. The stubble on his chin added to the image of a virile man in his prime.

Dark lashes framed the moss-green eyes she’d seen so often in her dreams. Concern shone there, and her heart lurched. He was still one hot cowboy, maybe even hotter than he’d been at twenty-three. Her body responded with embarrassing eagerness. She clenched the doorknob.

“Any more word?” He sounded exhausted.

“Uh, no.” She cleared the huskiness from her throat. “Sorry.”

He sighed. “Didn’t think so. You said you’d call.” He held her gaze as if looking for something in her expression.

If he hoped to find longing, it was probably there. Once upon a time, they’d found comfort in each other’s arms. “You got here fast.”

“Yeah.” He took a step closer.

She held her breath. Would he pull her into his arms for a warm hug? Bad idea. A hug could easily become something more. Would he kiss her? Would she kiss him back?

With a low curse, he backed up again. “I should...get to the hospital.”

“Right.” Good. He was restraining himself. Better for both of them. “Just unhitch the trailer and go. I can take care of your horse.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “I’m not so sure about that. How’s your rendition of ‘Red River Valley’?”

“Excuse me?” His grin sent her pulse racing again. No other man’s smile had that effect on her.

“Never mind. Let’s start with the cat. His name is Ringo.”

“For the drummer?”

“No, for the outlaw from the Old West. He’s a stowaway, so I don’t have anything for him. No food, no litter box, nothing.”

“I can rig up a temporary litter box. And I’ll bet Rosie has cans of tuna in the pantry. She still makes that casserole with the potato chips.”

“I loved that casserole. Haven’t had it in five years.”

“I’m sure she’ll make it for you.” Then reality hit her again. “I mean, after she comes home and...and feels better.”

Cade’s expression grew fierce. “She’ll be home. And she’ll feel better.”

“Of course she will.” She shared the underlying panic that made him glare at her that way. “They’ll figure out the problem, and she’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll get Ringo.” And the brawny cowboy left the porch to fetch his cat.

Lexi found that sweet, even more touching than if he’d arrived with a dog. Guys were supposed to love dogs, but it took a secure man to bond with a cat. Obviously she was still hooked on Cade. All he had to do was show up looking adorably rumpled with a cat in tow and she was ready to hurl herself into his arms. She’d have to be careful.

He came back cradling a gray tabby. “He’s used to staying in the barn, but I’m afraid if I leave him out there and take off, he’ll run away. He mostly wants to be wherever I am, so he might come looking for me.”

Lexi wasn’t surprised. Cade had always been a magnet for animals—and people. She was only one of many who’d longed to be close to this warmhearted but complicated man. As she stepped back from the open door to let Cade walk in, Ringo eyed her as if suspecting she had plans to separate him from the person he adored.

She had enough experience with cats to know that releasing Ringo into a large house where he could find all sorts of hidey-holes was a bad idea. “Let me open a can of tuna, and then we’ll take him into the guest bath so he’ll be contained in one spot. The tuna might distract him enough for you to slip out of here without too much fuss.”