RaeAnne Thayne - The Wrangler And The Runaway Mom

“Come on, Doc. You’re more skittish than a broomtail in a nest full of diamondbacks. Is it me?”

Just like that, her nervousness disappeared. She pursed her lips and gave him a quelling look at his arrogance. “Pretty full of yourself, aren’t you, McKendrick?”

He grinned, unrepentant. “Just thought I’d ask. Knowing your feelings about us saddle bums and all.”

The grin faded and he studied her for a moment, those blue eyes entirely too perceptive. “You know, if you need somebody to talk to, I’ve been told I can be a pretty good listener.”

If only she could talk about it. The desire to unload some of her burdens was so powerful she wanted to weep. Maybe if she could share it with someone, this constant fear would ease, would lose its hold over her every waking moment.

He would protect them.

The thought slipped into her mind, more seductive than any physical attraction she could ever feel for him. Somehow she knew Colt McKendrick would do everything in his power to keep them safe.

She opened her mouth, searching for the words to begin, then snapped it shut again. What was she doing? She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell anyone. Her troubles weren’t something she could just blurt out to a virtual stranger. I cowered in the bathroom while two men executed my husband in cold blood and now they’re after me and I jump out of my skin any time someone says “boo” to me and I’m ashamed of myself for it but I can’t seem to help it. Oh, and thank you for asking.

Besides, this was not his problem. She couldn’t drag him or anybody else into the mess she had made of things. She absolutely refused to put anyone else in harm’s way.

No, she wouldn’t tell Colt McKendrick anything. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said instead, fingers clutching her bag tightly. She couldn’t ease her grip any more than she could keep her voice from sounding distant and polite, as if she were refusing tea in the drawing room of one of the society mansions her mother used to drag her to. “I’m sorry, but...I have to go. I left Nicky sleeping back in our trailer, and I wouldn’t want him to wake up alone.”

He lifted his hand from the wall and straightened to give her room to pass. “I mean it, Doc. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

She gave a quick nod and began to walk quickly away.

“Hey,” he called after her. “If you aren’t busy later this morning, I’d be happy to give your little desperado that ride I promised him on Scout. The exercise would be good for him after travelin’ all day yesterday.”

“For Nicholas or for Scout?”

He grinned again. Despite all her efforts to restrain it, her traitorous heart fluttered in her chest, and she returned his smile with a small one of her own.

“Both, probably,” he answered.

“I know you promised, but you really don’t have to do that.”

“Eleven o’clock work for you?”

She did a quick assessment of her schedule. She had to prepare the exam trailer for any injured riders from tonight’s competition, but that wouldn’t take her much time. An hour, tops.

And Nicky wanted to ride Colt’s horse so badly. How could she refuse her son this one small thing, after she had dragged him away from all that he loved, forced him to give up everything secure in his little life?

“Yes,” she finally answered. “I suppose eleven would be fine.”

“Meet us at the practice racetrack. You know where that is?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Good.” He smiled that teasing grin she was beginning to find entirely too addictive. “I’ll see you then.”

* * *

He didn’t think they’d show up.

Colt kept one eye on the pathway from the campground while he checked Scout’s tack and adjusted the stirrups to an appropriate length for an almost-six-year-old.

It wouldn’t surprise him if she stayed away. She had been so skittish this morning, avoiding his gaze and hanging on to that bag like it was filled with gold.

Even nearly four hours later, Maggie’s tantalizing peach scent still filled his senses. Fresh-scrubbed from the shower, with her skin as dewy as the morning grass and her hair still damp, she’d been damn near irresistible.

When she’d come barreling around the corner and landed in his arms, it had taken every last ounce of his self-control to keep from stealing a little taste.

He wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting a woman. The desire pulsed under his skin and left him itchy and uneasy. It had sure as hell complicated what was supposed to be an easy assignment.

He had to put a lid on it. Simple as that. He wanted DeMarranville too much to let something as insignificant as simple lust screw it up for him. He was bound to make mistakes if he let his hormones do the thinking for him, so the trick would be figuring out a way to keep his distance from the beautiful Dr. Rawlings at the same time try to coax her to open up emotionally.

A warm breeze puffed out of the mountains, ruffling the hair at the base of his neck. It made him think of home and the ranch and the simple joy of working out in the morning sunshine.

To his surprise he felt little more than a passing twinge. He ought to be feeling lousy right about now since he was missing out on his vacation. The idea of spending uninterrupted time at the ranch was all that had kept him going through those last miserable weeks on the Spider Militia case. So why wasn’t he feeling worse?

If he didn’t know better, he might even make the mistake of thinking he was enjoying himself on this case.

“Colt! Hey, Colt!”

The high-pitched shout dragged him from his thoughts, and he turned to find Nicky peeking through the rails of the fence, his big brown eyes bright with eagerness.

A grin split Colt’s face at the sight of the little boy decked out in that Wild West getup again.

“Well, howdy. If it isn’t my old amigo, Nicky the Kid.”

Maggie’s son beamed and stuck out his thin chest. “I’m all ready to ride. Got my chaps on and everything.”

“I can see that. You look like a regular bronc buster.”

“Mom tried to get me to just wear jeans but I told her I had to wear my chaps or I’d get saddle sore, isn’t that right?” the little boy said.

“Smart move.” Colt bit down on his smile and turned his attention to Maggie, standing a few paces behind her son. She wore tan jeans and a pale pink T-shirt that made her skin look pearly, almost translucent. Her long hair, loose and unrestrained, swayed like wheat dancing in the wind when she walked forward.

Despite his best intentions, his mouth started to water.

Oblivious to his sudden sharp hunger, she propped her elbows on the top rail of the fence. “What’s a mom supposed to say to that kind of argument? I wouldn’t want him to get saddle sore, after all.”

Her voice was as cool as ice cream in July. Damn. She’d put up those walls between them again. He’d been so close to gaining her trust. This morning he had sensed she was desperate for someone to share her concerns with, that she wanted to tell him what had her running scared. It would make his job so much simpler if she would confide in him. For every inch of progress he made, though, she forced him back another two.

At least the kid was on his side. “Well, partner,” he turned to the little boy, “you ready to saddle up?”

Nicky nodded and scrambled through the fence. “You betcha.” He skidded to a stop near Scout’s forelegs and, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, took the big gelding’s measure.

Up close the horse must have looked a whole lot bigger than he had from the fence, because Nicky stared at him, gnawing his bottom lip and frowning.

“Uh, Colt...”

“Yeah?”