Nicole Foster - Hallie's Hero

He smiled, slow and easy. “Now, I think your joke is real amusing, honey, but it’s been a long day and I’m ready for a shave and some dinner.”

He was so close Hallie was forced to either tilt her head and look directly at his face or stare at his shirt buttons. She chose to meet his gaze squarely, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

His eyes, a warm, golden brown, reflected his smile and the laughter running through it. But she had the feeling he was inviting her to share with him the humor of the situation they found themselves in.

For one crazy moment, Hallie wanted to. He made it so easy and, she admitted, so tempting. She imagined he would be like that with a woman he wanted, and that it would be hard to say no, especially if he touched her.

The instant the thought registered Hallie sucked in a breath, so suddenly she drew in a lungful of dust and started to cough. What on earth was she thinking? She would never let a man like Dakota touch her, never.

“Are you all right?” Jack asked. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Can I get you some water? The dust in here is as thick as a dirt devil.”

Hallie shook her head, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t. It was definitely something. And she didn’t want to have anything to do with it or with him.

“Let’s get out of here before we both choke on the dirt,” Jack said, steering her out the door with the hand grasping her shoulder. Outside, he turned her so both his hands held her, and he studied her face. “Can we at least settle the sleeping arrangements without a fight? I’m not asking for the master bedroom. I’m sure that’s yours. I just want someplace bigger—and cleaner.”

To Jack’s surprise, the fight seemed to drain out of Hallie all at once. She wetted her lips, swallowed hard again and finally found her voice. It came out rough and uncertain, and strangely soft for her. “I don’t use the master bedroom. After Pa died, I just…I left it the same as he and Ma had it. I have my own room.”

Jack’s hands tightened briefly on her shoulders. “Okay, not that room then. What’s left besides it?”

Hallie tried to ignore the pleasing, disturbing warmth of his touch by telling herself Jack Dakota practiced charm as easily as he breathed. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that he did seem to at least be trying to make some kind of peace between them.

“Oh, go ahead and take Pa’s room,” she blurted out, at the same time she pulled away from him. “The moths and the mice are going to chew everything to shreds if someone doesn’t move in there soon, anyhow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to have it yourself?”

“No, I like the way the sun hits my pillow at dawn. Somehow I don’t imagine you’d appreciate that much.”

“Depends on who’s sharing my pillow,” he said, the rogue in him returning to tease her.

“No one here will, except maybe the cat,” Hallie retorted.

Jack only smiled, thinking of an image of Hallie asleep, her wild mass of hair tangled around her, the early-morning sun kissing her face. She would look softer then, gentled by the night’s rest. She might even be pretty, without her claws at the ready and her expression so serious.

“You’ll be getting used to seeing the sun rise soon enough if you intend to run this ranch,” she was saying.

“And I’ll learn to like it—in about twenty years. But for now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction, I’ll get settled in.”

“Two doors down the hall on the left.”

“Two?” Jack raised a brow at the flush creeping into her face. “What’s next door?”

Hallie wanted to look away, but instead found her eyes riveted to his. “My room.”

“Well, now.” He cocked his head slightly, a slash of afternoon sunlight catching every shade from pale ale to brandy in his hair. “That’s convenient, seeing as we’ll be partners.”

“Damn you, Dakota.” Hallie turned her back on him, wishing he would just disappear. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Temper, darlin’,” he said, laughing. He started past her in the direction she’d indicated, pausing to grin at her over his shoulder. “And watch your language. I don’t allow talk like that under my roof.”

After leaving Hallie, Jack found the bedroom she’d given him, then retrieved his bags from where he’d dropped them by the front door. Leaving them unopened in his room, he went in search of Ethan.

He found the boy in his new room, alone, curled up on the bed. He was toying with a worn-out shred of glossy yellow cloth. But when he noticed Jack in the doorway, Ethan clenched his fingers around the cloth and hurriedly sat up.

Jack hesitated before moving to sit down next to his son. “I came to see if I could help you get moved in.”

“Nope.” Ethan stared at his hands, clenched together in his lap.

Feeling awkward and uncertain of himself for the first time in as long as he could remember, Jack scoured his brain for something to say. His brand of charm wouldn’t work with this kid. What would work to earn the boy’s trust and confidence, he hadn’t a clue.

“Nice room, don’t you think?”

“It’s okay. I guess.”

Jack glanced around. Serenity had obviously been at work cleaning, changing the bed and moving Ben’s possessions into the adjoining room. But a few things remained: a pile of clothes strewn over a chair; boots tossed in a corner; a lamp with what looked like a brightly colored scarf no lady would wear draped over the shade; a silver garter hung on the corner of a picture frame. Ethan ought to feel right at home, he mused ruefully, remembering the room he and Mattie had shared at the Silver Snake.

What on earth had convinced Mattie he’d be good for her son? Being a father had caught him completely by surprise. His relationship with Mattie had been brief, like most everything else in his life. He’d never taken it or any other dalliances with women too seriously. Women had been something to entertain him between card games.

But now the result of those few nights in Mattie’s bed nine years ago was sitting next to him.

He didn’t have the first idea of how to be a parent or make a family. He knew even less about ranching. But he did know one thing. Ethan wasn’t going to grow up the way he had. His boy would have roots, a home, a real father.

Whatever those were.

Jack glanced at his son. When he’d told Ethan they were moving to the ranch, the boy had flatly refused to go. He’d only left Mattie’s room after the woman who owned the saloon told him he couldn’t stay.

Walking out of the Silver Snake, and all during the ride to Eden’s Canyon, Ethan had said nothing. But Jack recognized something familiar in the way the boy held himself stiff and still. Ethan might have been the image of himself at eight years old, sitting on the porch of a San Francisco hotel while his father argued with his mother over which of them should keep him.

“Ethan?”

The boy kept staring at his hands.

“I want to talk to you about a few things. You don’t have to answer, but I hope you’ll listen, because this is important, for both of us.”

No response.

Jack pushed on, determined to have his say even if he ended up talking to himself. “I’m sorry about your ma, Ethan. I told you before, I didn’t know she was sick and I didn’t know about you until I got the telegram a few weeks ago.”

Ethan’s shoulders shifted in what might have been a shrug.

“I know this isn’t where you want to be right now, but we can’t stay at the saloon. We need a home and this is going to be it. We’re going to learn to be ranchers, and one day, this place will be yours.”

His last words seemed to rouse Ethan. “Miss Hallie says it’s hers,” the boy said, without looking up. “She doesn’t want us here.”