The Cowboy's Way. Kathie DeNosky
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her a friendly smile. “The name’s T.J., Ms. Wilson.”
He suddenly realized that in the four years since he’d bought the ranch, he’d been so busy starting his breeding program and getting settled in, that he hadn’t bothered to get acquainted with more than one or two of the other ranchers in the immediate area. And the few times he had met up with Ms. Wilson, it hadn’t been under the best of circumstances. He had been pissed off about her stallion impregnating his mares and hadn’t bothered to introduce himself and, understandably, she hadn’t been inclined to give him her name or exchange pleasantries when he had put her on the defensive.
He felt a little guilty about that. Oh, who was he kidding? He felt downright ashamed of himself. No matter if he had been angry or not, he had better manners than that and shouldn’t have been so demanding.
“My name’s Heather,” she said as they walked into the kitchen. When he turned on the lights, she stopped and looked around. “Your home is very nice.”
“Thanks.” He set her purse and the diaper bag on the kitchen island, then shrugged out of his wet jacket before helping her out of hers. “Would you like something to eat or drink, Heather?” he asked, doing his best to be cordial.
“Thank you, but it’s late and if you don’t mind, I’d rather get my son settled down for the night,” she said, sounding as if she was ready to drop in her tracks.
“No problem.” Hanging their coats in the mudroom, he picked up the two bags and led the way down the hall to the stairs in the foyer. “Do you need to call someone to let them know where you are and that you and your little boy are all right?”
T.J. wondered where her significant other was and why he wasn’t with her. Any man worth a damn wouldn’t have let his woman go out alone on a night like this. In T.J.’s opinion, there was no excuse for the man not being on the cell phone at that very moment checking to see that she and their little boy were safe and going to be all right.
Climbing the steps, she shook her head. “No. There’s no one. It’s just me and Seth.”
When T.J. stopped and opened the door to the first bedroom on the second floor, he stepped back for her to enter. “Ladies first.” Following her into the room, he added, “If this isn’t to your liking, I’ve got five more bedrooms to choose from.”
“This is fine, thank you,” she said, reaching for her purse and the diaper bag as if she would like for him to leave.
When her hand brushed his, he felt a tingling sensation along his skin and quickly reasoned that it was probably a charge of static electricity. But he couldn’t dismiss the heat he felt radiating from her quite so easily.
Frowning, he asked, “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’ve felt better,” she admitted as she set the two bags on the bench at the end of the bed.
Without a second thought about the invasion of her space, T.J. walked over and placed his palm on her forehead. “You’ve got a fever.” Lifting the edge of the blanket, he noticed the sleeping baby’s flushed cheeks. “Both of you are sick.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said, placing the little boy on the bed. “I had to take my son to the emergency room. I was on my way back home when you stopped to see if we needed help.”
“What was the diagnosis?” T.J. asked, hoping the little guy was going to be okay.
“He has an ear infection.” She reached for the diaper bag. “They gave me an antibiotic for him, as well as something to give him if his fever spikes.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Did you see a doctor while you were there?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be all right. I’m just getting over the flu.”
“You should have seen a doctor as well,” he said, unable to keep the disapproval from his voice.
“Well, I didn’t,” she retorted as if she resented his observation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“While you get him settled in bed, I’ll go get something for you to sleep in,” he interrupted, leaving the room before she could protest.
When he entered the master suite, T.J. walked straight to the medicine cabinet in his adjoining bathroom. Taking a bottle of Tylenol from one of the shelves, he went back into his bedroom and looked around. What could he give her to wear to bed? He preferred sleeping in the buff and didn’t even own a pair of pajamas. Deciding that one of his flannel shirts would have to do, he took one from the walk-in closet and headed back to the room Heather and her son would be using.
“Will this be okay?” he asked, holding up the soft shirt for her inspection. “I’m sorry I don’t have something more comfortable.”
“I could have just slept in my clothes,” she said, covering the baby with the comforter. Turning to face him, she took the garment he offered. “But thank you for...everything.”
“Here’s something to take for your fever,” he said, handing her the bottle of Tylenol. He went into the adjoining bathroom for a glass of water, then handed it to her as he pointed to the bottle. “Take a couple of these and if you need anything else, my room is down at the other end of the hall.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said, removing two of the tablets from the bottle.
He stared at her for a moment, wondering for the second time since finding her stranded on the road how he could have missed how beautiful she was all those times he took her horse back to her. Even with dark smudges under her eyes, she was striking and the kind of woman a man couldn’t help but wonder—
“Was there something else?” she asked, snapping him back to reality.
Deciding the rain must have washed away some of his good sense, he shook his head. “Good night.”
When he left the room and closed the door, he heard the quiet snick of the lock being set behind him as he started down the hall to his bedroom. Under the circumstances, he could understand her caution. A woman alone couldn’t be too careful these days. She didn’t know him and until tonight, he hadn’t given her a reason to think she might want to change that fact.
“You’re one sorry excuse for a man,” he muttered to himself.
He’d had his mind made up that she was just a defiant, uncaring female who arrogantly ignored his pleas to keep her horse at home. It had never occurred to him that she was every bit as vulnerable and overworked as any other single mother. Of course, he hadn’t known about the kid until tonight. But that was no excuse for jumping to conclusions about her the way he had.
As T.J. took off his damp clothes and headed for the shower to wash away the uncomfortable chill of the cold rain, he couldn’t stop thinking about his guests down the hall. He didn’t know what the story was with Heather and her little boy, but it really didn’t matter. Whether she wanted to accept his help or not, right now she needed it. She and her kid were both sick, and since there didn’t seem to be anyone else to see to their welfare, T.J. was going to have to step up to the plate.
One of the first things Hank Calvert had taught him and his brothers was that when they saw someone in need, it was only right to pitch in and lend a hand. He had told them that life could be an obstacle and sometimes it took teamwork to get through it. And if anyone ever needed a helping hand it was Heather Wilson.
Of course, T.J. didn’t think Hank had ever run into anyone with as much stubborn pride as Heather. The woman wore that pride like a suit of armor and was a little too independent for her own good. He toweled himself dry, walked into the bedroom and got into bed. He lay there for several long minutes, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the rain pelt the roof. Heather’s situation was a lot like his own mother’s.
Delia Malloy had been a single mother with all the responsibilities that entailed. She had done a great job of holding down a job and providing for their family of two while she raised