Her Cowboy Lawman. Pamela Britton
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“Darkhorse Tactical Solutions. DTS. I know.”
She smiled slightly. “Everyone knows everything about everyone in this town.”
He smiled, too. “I’m the local lawman. I make it my business to know who’s moved in and out.”
But she’d tuned him out, he could tell. She stared after her son with such a keen sense of longing it made his heart tighten in pity all over again.
“He begged me to move here.” She looked over at him. “We came here for a visit last year—before the house was finished—and it was all I could do to drag Kyle back to the Bay Area. He kept going on and on about his uncle Jax and his big ranch and how we could move to Via Del Caballo.”
“So you did.”
“We did, and to be honest, it’s a lot easier to make ends meet when you live in a small town, and it helps that my brother’s offered us free room and board.” She shifted, placing her elbows on her knees, resting her head in her palms. She looked so young then. Years ago she would have been exactly his type. No fake hair. Very little makeup. Easy smile. He’d been drawn to her the moment he’d spotted her standing there by the chutes.
“But I can’t stay there forever.” She straightened again. “The whole point of my going back to school was so that I could finish my degree and find a good job.”
“What do you do?”
“Nursing.” Her smile turned bashful. “I’ve always felt compelled to help others. Turns out it’s a family trait.”
“You could work for a local nursing home.”
She shook her head. “No. I need to make enough money to support me and my kid. That’s the whole point. I want a good life for him, the best. That’s only going to happen at a big hospital, which is why I’m going for a bachelor of science in nursing”
“So this is just temporary?”
She let her feet slide back to the ground. “Before the year’s out, I’ll have graduated and found a new job, and I don’t think Kyle likes the idea.”
He didn’t blame the kid. He hated the big cities. It was why he’d settled back down here once his military career had ended.
“So let him enjoy himself while he’s around,” he said. “Let him take some riding lessons and maybe get on a few more steers.”
Her eyes became serious. “I’ve seen what happens to bull riders. I’ve been an intern in an ER.”
“All the more reason to make sure he learns how to ride correctly. He could have been injured today coming off that close to the chutes. He needs to learn how to fall in addition to how to ride.”
Her brows lifted and he could tell she understood his point, but then she glanced toward where her son and Jax had disappeared It was almost as if he could sense the thoughts going on in her head, an inner battle of some sort. She must have arrived at a decision because she straightened suddenly, nodded, turned back to him. “So will you teach him?”
Would he?
Despite what he’d said earlier, he hadn’t planned on taking Kyle on as a student. His focus was high school rodeo. But he wasn’t proof against the imploring look on her face.
“I could maybe help him out a little bit.”
She reached for his hand. Bren glanced down, noting how refined her hands were against his own, how they were so white and his were dark. Her skin was soft and smooth. His was worn and calloused. Old and young. Worn and new.
“Thank you.”
When he looked back into her eyes, he suddenly wished he were in his twenties again. Now he’d be cradle-robbing—and he wasn’t about to do that. Not now. Not ever.
“No problem.”
But as they stood together, she flung her hair over her shoulder and the wind caught it and blew it around her face, and he realized she could be a serious distraction.
But it was an election year and small-town constituents had old-school values. They would frown on him dating a younger woman, especially a single mom. And that meant he’d have to keep things purely professional.
“How does this weekend sound?”
She looked up at him and heard her say, “Perfect,” but saw on her face that she thought it was anything but, and he knew how she felt, but for a whole other reason.
There were times you did things for your kid that you didn’t really want to do. At least, that’s what Lauren thought as she drove toward Bren’s house later that week. She supposed she should be grateful Kyle wouldn’t be climbing aboard a half-crazed animal today. He would just be learning some of the basics, Bren had explained.
Lauren glanced at her son. He had the same look on his face as he did staring at a pile of birthday presents: eyes wide, shoulders taut, upper body leaning forward, the freckles on his face standing out like specks of dirt. She loved those freckles even though he got them from his dad. The rest of her son—hair, eyes, jaw—that was all her.
“Are we there yet?” he asked, completely oblivious to her study.
She almost laughed. “Looks like it.”
When she slowed down for Bren’s driveway, he rested a hand on the door frame, peering at Bren’s ranch house with anticipation in his eyes. She took in his home, too.
Nice place.
Being town sheriff must pay well. Of course, it was nothing compared to her brother’s ostentatious, obnoxiously huge, over-the-top mansion, but this was nice and in many ways more her style. Dark brown paint covered a single-story home that had a cute porch across the front and wide dormers poking out of the A-frame roofline. It was in the heart of town, other homes and corrals off in the distance making her think this was some sort of equestrian subdivision. All the homes in the area were evenly spaced apart, but while those homes featured white fencing, Bren’s was made out of some sort of metal piping that looked sturdy enough to house elephants. There were trucks parked out front, and standing outside near the front of them, Bren and a group of men. He waved as Lauren wedged herself into a parking spot.
Kyle shot out of his seat before she put her compact car in Park.
“Hey!”
But he was gone, his door slamming shut, Kyle going up to Bren and the men gathered there. She saw him laugh and pat Kyle’s head before pointing him somewhere. Her son waved and ran off, presumably to the back of the house and to the barn that she’d spotted out back.
Here goes.
She slipped out, smiling and shielding her eyes from the sun. “Should I follow him around?”
In answer, Bren beckoned her over, continuing his conversation with the three older cowboys. “Lauren, this is Andrew, Jim and George. They’re part of my campaign committee.”
Only then did she notice one of the trucks was black with a gold sheriff’s star on the side. Bren rested a hand on the hood, the black shirt he wore sporting the same image.
“Guys, Lauren’s new to the area,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,” said Andrew and Jim, smiling. Andrew was much older than Bren, his shoulders stooped, his blue eyes still bright. Jim seemed nearer in age. The two of them said, “Welcome,” at almost the same time.
“Thanks.”
George hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and then he turned to Bren, and there was something about the look on his face that Lauren didn’t like. Sort of a “well, well, well...what have we here?” He was older, too, but that didn’t stop him from winking at Bren just before saying,