Her Cowboy Hero. Tanya Michaels
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brewed.” Since there was half a cake sitting in a clear domed container on the counter, she saw no polite way to refuse him that. She got a clean plate from the dishwasher and sliced a much smaller piece than she would have offered Annette. “We have to keep our voices down. Evan is sleeping. I was actually thinking about stealing the opportunity for a quick nap myself,” she fibbed.
He ignored the hint that he should hurry on his way. “Sorry I missed the little guy. Be sure to tell him hi for me.”
Evan didn’t like Gideon any more than the dog did. For starters, the fiercely independent four-year-old, who couldn’t wait for kindergarten, hated the “little guy” nickname. He also disliked how Gideon chucked him on the chin as if they were in some cheesy made-for-TV movie. Who did that in real life? One of Hannah’s objections to the man was how he always seemed to be performing for an invisible audience.
She also objected to his barely concealed lust for her ranch.
Before she’d moved to Bingham Pass, she’d had ideas—and a budget—for guest-friendly investments. An outdoor hot tub, extra beds, more horses. But the six-bedroom ranch had fallen into disrepair since she’d seen it last, and she quickly realized she needed to prioritize roof improvements, furniture, updated plumbing and possibly even new wiring. Most of the outlets were only two-prong instead of the now-standard three. Alarmed by how inadequate her budget was, she’d let the Loomis family talk her into selling a strip of land that adjoined their property.
She’d regretted the hasty decision afterward, and not just because she’d realized they lowballed her on price. The Silver Linings Ranch was Michael’s legacy to their son. She would not sell it off piecemeal like a stolen car stripped for parts. Gideon and his family weren’t getting their hands on another acre of her land.
Aware of how easily her anger could grow—of the negative emotions that lurked like an undertow to consume her—she forced a smile. It was strained, but Gideon didn’t seem to mind. He grinned back, leaning against the island to eat instead of going to the table as she’d hoped.
She found an excuse to move away from him, stepping toward the refrigerator. “Can I get you some iced tea? Maybe a glass of milk to wash down the chocolate?”
“Tea’s fine.” He took a bite of cake, and unmistakable bliss lit his brown eyes. “Damn, that’s good. It’s a crying shame you have to expend so much energy into taking care of the horses, cows and goats.”
She didn’t have goats. She was the proud owner of horses, cows and one attack donkey.
“If you had a husband to worry about the livestock for you,” he continued, “think of all the extra time you could spend puttering in the kitchen and developing your recipes.”
She straightened abruptly from the fridge shelf, skewering him with a glare. “Yeah, careless of Michael to get killed in action and screw up my puttering schedule.”
“All I meant was—a woman like you? Deserves a man who can take care of her.”
She wanted to rail that not only was she capable of taking care of herself, she’d been doing a splendid job of taking care of Evan for the past four years. Still...being a good mom and a hard worker didn’t automatically translate to being able to maintain one hundred and eighty acres alone. Not alone, exactly. She had a four-year-old always looking for ways to “help.” She also had Henry, who’d worked this property for decades and refused to acknowledge limitations set by age or reality, and Colorado’s most unusual ranch dog.
Okay, she needed a man, but not in the romantic sense. Particularly if her options were limited to Gideon Loomis.
His expression earnest, he set down the plate and came toward her. “At the very least, let me talk to my folks about buying your cows from you. The herd would be one less thing for you to manage.”
The “herd” was fewer than two dozen heifers, a bull and the resulting calves. Her predecessor, Michael’s great-uncle, hadn’t used a formal breeding program. He kept the bull in with the heifers, sometimes separating out the younger cows, and let nature take its course. A vet was called in as necessary, but the cattle were actually the least of her problems—with the exception of hauling hay. Hay was a never-ending chore.
“Isn’t that sweet of you,” she bit out, “offering to shoulder my burdens? No doubt for some sort of grateful, discounted rate.”
His voice rose. “Are you accusing me of trying to cheat you? If you were a man...” He stopped, running a hand over his reddened face. His tone changed, slick with his attempt at charm. “But you are all woman.”
“Maybe you’re right, I do need a man.” She jutted her chin up. “Good thing that, as of yesterday, I found one.”
* * *
THERE WAS A shiny red pickup in front of the ranch house when Colin returned from town. When he’d left, Annette’s car had been there. This must be someone different. He took the steps two at a time, glad Hannah had company. Maybe he could return the truck keys and get to work on the porch without further conversation. Even though she’d affirmed her understanding that he was sticking around only for this one quick repair job, did he really trust that she wouldn’t try to coax him into staying?
More to the point, did he trust himself to resist? Home cooking like hers and the sibling-free solitude of the bunkhouse were appealing. If she didn’t have a kid—or those arresting hazel eyes—he would have considered staying until his brother’s wedding.
Before he had a chance to knock against the door frame, voices carried through the screen.
“—your sense? You can’t just bring strange men home!”
“I told you to keep your voice down,” Hannah retorted, her own voice only marginally softer. “And it’s my ranch. I make the decisions. I think it’s time for you to go, Gideon.”
“I haven’t finished,” the man argued.
Not bothering to waste time knocking, Colin let himself inside, even as he called himself a fool. For all he knew, “Gideon” was a relative or a boyfriend and Hannah might resent a third-party interloper witnessing the argument. But Colin had a problem with the man’s refusal to leave.
“Hannah?” He wheeled around the corner, distantly recognizing that it had been a long damn time since he’d felt protective of anyone but Justin or Arden.
His would-be boss was between the kitchen counter near the fridge and a beefy guy standing close enough that Colin had the urge to yank him back by his collar.
“You’re back.” Hannah’s face went from tense to one of those dimpled smiles faster than a hummingbird could beat its wings. She raised an arm, pushing Gideon out of her way with the heel of her hand and coming to take the truck keys from Colin. “This is my neighbor, Gideon Loomis. He was just leaving.”
The man’s blond eyebrows shot toward the brim of his gray hat. “Actually, I—”
“Mommy?”
All three adults turned to see Evan in the wide entryway, his hair sticking up in wayward tufts, a child-size green blanket clutched in his hand.
Gideon gave the kid a hearty smile. “Oops—we wake you, little guy?”
Evan scowled.
“How about I make it up to you with a piece of cake?” Gideon offered.
“I don’t think so.” Hannah crossed the kitchen to scoop the boy up in a hug. “He had some after lunch. No more sweets until after dinner. And only then if you eat some vegetables,” she told her son.
Evan’s wrinkled nose and unenthusiastic grunt nearly tugged a sympathetic smile from Colin. He himself was a meat-and-potatoes man. Natalie had always cajoled him to set a good example by eating more green stuff.
“If Danny doesn’t see you eating food like broccoli or lima beans, he’ll form a preconceived notion that they taste bad.”