RaeAnne Thayne - The Wrangler And The Runaway Mom

She could barely remember what it had been like to shower as long as she wanted, without this constant, nagging worry at leaving Nicky sleeping in their locked trailer for even these few stolen moments. What would she do if she had time to do more than just scrape her hair back into a wet braid and apply only the bare minimum of makeup?

Might as well wish for the moon while you’re dreaming, she scolded herself and slipped quickly into the clean clothing she had brought over from the trailer. This wasn’t so bad, anyway. It could be much, much worse. She and Nicky had clean, warm clothing to wear, food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads—even if it was a thin aluminum roof with a tendency to leak when it rained.

Besides, in a big city, what were the chances of your neighbor stopping to fix a flat tire in the middle of the night so you wouldn’t have to deal with an unpleasant surprise in the morning?

A picture of Colt McKendrick in the watery darkness back in Wyoming the week before crystallized in her mind and she smiled softly as she tugged a comb through her wet, tangled hair.

In the four days since she had found him fixing her flat, she couldn’t seem to shake the man from her thoughts. He sneaked in whenever she wasn’t looking, with that teasing grin, his strong shoulders and those shockingly blue eyes.

How long had it been since she had felt her pulse skitter and hop like that just by a heavy-lidded look from a man like Colt McKendrick? She laughed aloud at the absurdity of her question. When had she ever even had a heavy-lidded look from a gorgeous man before that night the weekend before in his camper?

Of all the times for her to develop an attraction for a man, when she was so strung out on nerves. Nothing could possibly come of it, after all. Even if she were the sort of woman who could interest a rough and rugged rodeo cowboy—which she most certainly was not, despite his flirtation the week before—she couldn’t spare the energy for this. She needed all her wits about her just to survive.

Besides, her emotional bank balance matched her real one—completely empty. She didn’t have anything left to give any man.

If he showed up and followed through on his invitation to dinner, she would simply have to turn it down. It was the safe, sensible thing to do, she knew it perfectly well. So why did the knowledge leave her with a little ache of regret in her chest?

She sighed. No sense worrying about it now. He’d probably forgotten all about them. On a whim, she decided to leave her hair loose, then gathered her clothing and walked out of the rest room into the early-morning air that smelled tart and fresh, of pine pitch and newly cut grass.

Maybe all this angst was for nothing. Maybe their paths wouldn’t cross again. He said he planned to compete in the Butte rodeo, but maybe he had changed his mind. Tonight was the opening round, and she had yet to see his fancy blue truck with the beat-up cab-over camper.

It probably would be for the best if he didn’t show up, although it would break Nicky’s heart. He had his sights set on riding Colt’s horse, and when her stubborn little boy decided he wanted to do something, changing his mind could be a nightmare.

Wondering how she would possibly deter him, she rounded the corner of the little cinder block building housing the rest rooms, but any thought of Nicky was completely wrenched from her mind when she smashed headlong into a solid wall of flesh.

She swayed from the impact and her bag of toiletries tumbled to the ground. Her heart stuttered in sudden fear when hard hands clamped around her forearms, holding her immobile.

She couldn’t see who held her, could only focus on the wide male chest in front of her, but her survival instincts immediately kicked in, adrenaline gushing through her in hot, roiling waves.

Escape. She had to escape. Fighting and struggling against the taut grip, she tried fiercely to jerk away.

“Easy. Easy, now, Doc. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Gradually, like water through porous sandstone, reason seeped through her panic and she drew a ragged breath, stilling her frantic scramble to freedom.

She recognized that soft drawl—it belonged to the cowboy she had just been thinking about. Tilting her chin up, she found those startling blue eyes watching her carefully.

He gave her arms a reassuring squeeze then released her. “There now. That’s better. Sorry if I scared you, Doc. I was just trying to keep you from falling over after you came barrelin’ around the corner.”

Her fear ebbed, leaving embarrassment in its wake. Heat soaked her cheeks and she fought the urge to press her hands to them. Okay, so she had overreacted just a tad. What must he think of her, fighting and clawing at him like he was some kind of mad rapist on the loose?

“I...it’s not your fault,” she mumbled. “You just startled me. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I guess I didn’t expect anybody else to be out this early in the morning.”

His mouth creased into a smile. “No harm done.”

She bent to pick up her scattered toiletries, and he immediately crouched to help. “Here. Let me get this.”

“I can do it. Really.”

“It’s no trouble.”

They worked in silence for the few moments it took to pick up her things. It was unnerving, having him help her collect her most intimate belongings: her razor, toothbrush, the scented peach soap she indulged in.

He must have just come from the men’s shower himself. His hair was damp, his cheeks and his chin freshly shaved. In the pale, thin hush of the morning she became acutely, painfully, aware of him: the blunt tips of his fingers clutching her delicate things. The scent of his aftershave, a subtle, erotic combination of leather and sagebrush. The layer of crisp dark hair on his arms, the little scar at the corner of his mouth that curved up like an extension of his smile, and those deep blue eyes that reminded her of a clear, pristine mountain lake.

She had no business noticing anything about Colt McKendnck, let alone the mountain-lake color of his eyes. She yanked in her thoughts sharply and cleared her throat. “When did you arrive?” she asked. “It must have been late—I didn’t see you come in before I went to sleep last night.”

Those eyes took on a teasing glint. “You weren’t watching for me, now, were you, Doc?”

Drat her fair complexion that showed every emotion. She felt her cheeks flood with color again. “Nicky was,” she mumbled.

It was the truth, if not the complete truth. Since the moment they arrived at the campground the day before, her son had watched every rig pull in with an eagerness usually reserved for Santa Claus or birthday parties. He had become increasingly dejected as the day wore on when none of the arrivals turned out to be his new pal.

What Maggie didn’t add—what she couldn’t possibly admit, even to herself, except in her most secret of hearts—was that she had watched each newcomer with the same eagerness as her son. And been just as disappointed when he didn’t show up.

Somehow Colt McKendrick had seeped into her subconscious, and she couldn’t seem to shake him loose. She would definitely have to do something about it.

When her things were finally collected and stored safely in her rattan bag, they both stood. Colt rested one of those blunt-fingered hands on the cinder block wall of the rest rooms, blocking her way as effectively as if he still held her in those muscled arms. “Now that we’ve got that settled, Doc, how about you tell me what’s got you so jumpy.”

Startled, she met his gaze. His eyes held curiosity and a concern she didn’t want to see there. She quickly looked down at the ground. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.