For Her Child.... Linda Goodnight
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strode toward the sprawling ranch house. A little of the fury subsided at the sight of her dad, standing in the open backdoor, a mile-wide smile on his face.
“Ah, Dad.” She fell into his embrace breathing in the familiar tobacco scent that puffed up from his shirt pocket. “Tell me I misunderstood on the telephone. Tell me you didn’t lose the ranch to Ty Murdock.”
Pete jutted a stubborn jaw. “He won it fair and square.”
“Ty Murdock doesn’t know the meaning of fair.” Even after six years, his name evoked all kinds of irrational thoughts. A vision of his laughing black eyes rose to mock her. “I can’t believe you’d give up our ranch without a fight.”
“Don’t know what else to do. He’s got the deed, signed clean and legal.” Pete shifted uneasily. “Things have changed around here some, Kara Dean. You’d know that if you lived closer.”
Her dad had been hurt when she’d left home only weeks after Mama’s death from the long battle with cancer. He hadn’t understood then, and he didn’t now. She’d let him down when they’d needed each other most, and she wasn’t about to let that happen again. This land was in his blood as well as hers, and Kara was determined to keep it for her son.
The thought of Lane, her five-year-old, brought a sense of foreboding. She was about to come face-to-face with the devil, and though he didn’t know it, Ty Murdock had the power to destroy her.
Patting her father’s back and stiffening her own, Kara headed into the house, eager for the sight of home. Leaning on the bar that divided the kitchen from the dining room, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, sucking in the scent of pine cleaner.
Pine? Her eyes flew open. Wait a minute. What was wrong with this picture? Where were the familiar scents of old leather and oil soap?
Cautiously she stared around the room. Gone was the familiar round table and spindle backed chairs. In their place stood a brand-new dining room set with a glossy oak finish and padded chairs.
“Dad!”
“I tried to warn you.” He touched her arm.
“Where is our stuff?”
“I moved it down to the trailer.”
“What are you doing living in the foreman’s trailer? Don’t tell me that double-dealing Murdock threw you out. I’ll strangle him with my bare hands. I’ll break both of his knees so he’ll never ride another bull. I’ll, I’ll…”
“Dump hot cocoa down my lap like you did in high school?”
Kara froze. Even with her back to the door, she recognized the deep, lazy drawl that haunted her dreams. Low and sexy, with the hint of laughter beneath the surface, the sound sent involuntary shivers down her spine. She clenched both fists and her teeth before turning to face the devil himself.
Pete held up a warning hand. “Hold on now, Kara Dean. Moving to the trailer was my choice. This boy may be a tricky poker player, but he wouldn’t throw an old man out in the cold.”
“It isn’t cold,” she said, perversely. “And this boy is a thirty-year-old man who stole our ranch.”
“Now, Kara, I’m not even twenty-nine yet. Don’t go making an old man out of me,” Ty teased.
She wasn’t prepared for the riot of emotion that swept through every cell in her body at the sight of him. There he stood, cocky as ever, one wide shoulder holding up the doorjamb. Cute little laugh lines bracketed the full lower lip she’d always found particularly sensuous. She stared at it for a moment, fighting the memory of what he could do with that mouth.
Dang it all! Life had been good to him. The dark good looks that had turned her to mush when she was a teenager had only improved with maturity. He was lean and trim, and looked for all the world like the confident bull rider he was. And nobody alive looked better in snug old Wrangler jeans and a black Stetson than Ty Murdock.
He was cowboy beautiful, and she wanted to scratch his laughing black eyes right out of their sockets.
“So.” Hissing in a steadying breath, she curled her lip. “The bad penny returns.”
“I could say the same for you.” His mild answer added fuel to her anger. How dare he be calm and cool when she was forest-fire hot and ready to rumble?
“I belong here. This is my home.”
He smirked. The arrogant mule levered himself off the door and actually smirked, leaving no doubt that he was now sole owner of the Tilted T. With a flourish worthy of an all-round champion, he removed his hat and tossed it onto one horn of a particularly tacky set of deer antlers hanging near the backdoor. Then he sauntered over to the bar, slung one leg over a stool and sat down as if he owned the place.
Dang it all! He did own the place.
Kara backed around to the other side of the narrow bar and simmered. Ty Murdock had already stolen enough from her. He wasn’t getting this ranch, too.
The tension in the room, most of it from Kara, was thicker than a prairie dust storm. “You’re a thief and a cheat, Murdock.”
Ty braced one powerful hand on an equally powerful thigh, his lips tilting in a wry grin. “Well, howdy, Kara. It’s mighty nice to see you, too.”
On some subconscious level she knew Ty hid his true emotions behind a flippant attitude, but Kara was long past caring about his feelings. He wasn’t going to tease his way out of this one.
“You took advantage of my daddy.”
“He did no such thing,” her dad piped up from his spot at the same bar. “A full house beats a flush any day of the week.”
Kara’s ears buzzed and little gray spots danced before her eyes. Anyone else would have thought she was about to faint. Kara knew dang well she was about to commit a crime—murder. Trouble was, she didn’t know who to kill first, her daddy or that worthless piece of cow dung, Ty Murdock.
“Dad, please, if you won’t stand up to this bully, then let me do it.”
Kara regretted the words as soon as they tumbled out of her rapid-fire mouth. A dark flush suffused Pete’s face. She’d embarrassed him, wounded that confounded pride of his. Before she could apologize, Pete rose stiffly from the bar.
“I’m going down to the trailer. When you finish pitching a fit, come on down. Sally’s making dinner.”
He stalked out the door, letting it bang shut behind him. Kara blinked after him in confusion.
Who the heck was Sally?
“Want some coffee?”
Kara’s head snapped around. Ty held a mug in her direction, one eyebrow arched in question.
“I haven’t stocked up on Dr. Pepper—yet.”
Her mouth fell open. He remembered her favorite soft drink?
Between her father’s strange announcement and Ty’s unwanted friendliness, she felt as off balance as a drunk standing in a rowboat during a hurricane. Ty stirred a spoon of sugar into the mug before pushing it across the bar toward her.
Glad for an excuse to do something beside stare with her mouth open, Kara sipped at the hot brew, her mind working frantically.
This wasn’t the way she’d planned their meeting. He wasn’t supposed to stand across from her, calmly watching her over a coffee cup emblazoned with the words Cowboy Up and Ride. He wasn’t supposed to remember how she liked her coffee or what kind of pop she preferred. He was supposed to be the ogre who left her standing in the gravel driveway of the Tilted T crying her eyes out while he drove away to seek his fame and fortune on the bull-riding circuit. He was the cheating, lying womanizer who’d promised a future and then took up with rodeo trash like Shannon Sullivan no sooner than his dust had settled.
The memory of that morning was still as fresh