Colton's Cowboy Code. Melissa Cutler
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he slept with, the one whose last name or phone number he hadn’t even bothered to ask, he was so drunk and self-destructive. He was lucky he remembered her face at all, given the state he’d been in, but she held the dubious honor of being his last conquest before he’d gotten right with himself and had given up partying, drinking and women cold turkey.
He held the diner door open for Hannah, who marched past him, her feathers clearly ruffled. “I know you’re upset, but you don’t get to treat me like a criminal.”
He wasn’t trying to, but he also wasn’t taking a chance on her sneaking away before he got some answers. All he had was the email address she’d contacted him with about the job, and he doubted that was anything but a shell account. He didn’t even know her last name, and hadn’t even recalled her first name correctly. Didn’t that just say it all about how severely he’d screwed up his life?
At the hostess desk, he paid for his coffee and left a generous tip. That’s when he heard it. Hannah’s stomach growled. Loudly.
He froze, his change halfway in his wallet.
“Shoot,” she muttered. “You didn’t hear that.”
In his periphery, he watched her arms wrap around her middle, protective and proud. His attention slid to the scuffed black flats she wore. They were old, worn. The edges of the material fraying. Yet she’d worn them to the job interview so they had to be the best pair she owned. She’d lost her job, her car and her apartment. Where was she living now? Was she getting the medical care she and the baby needed?
That’s when it hit him that the answers to those questions didn’t matter yet. All that mattered at that moment was that she was clearly hungry. She was also too thin, now that he thought about it. Hungry. Jobless. Homeless—and she was having his baby. Damn.
“Change of plans.” His words came out as a croak. He cleared his throat, then met the waitress’s confused gaze. “Could you seat us again? Turns out I’m hungry for breakfast after all.”
Hannah stiffened. “I don’t need your charity.”
Judging by her growling stomach, she did, but she was far too proud to accept it. She hadn’t come to him for help when she first found out she was pregnant or when she’d lost her job. She’d made of point of telling him that she wasn’t after his money. Other than her dancing skills—both of the club variety and the horizontally-in-bed variety—her sense of pride and honor were just about all he knew about her. That, and the fact that she was an accountant, which he would have never pegged her as.
Proud, dancing Hannah the accountant didn’t follow the waitress, but stood stock-still, giving him a stink-eye that even his mother would admire. She didn’t want help or charity and didn’t seem to trust his breakfast offer, but Brett did have one thing he could offer her that he bet she wouldn’t refuse.
“You came here today to interview for a job and I need an accountant, so I say we get on with the reason for our appointment.”
She held him with a searching gaze as though testing his intentions, then gave a terse nod.
He fought against letting his relief show on his face as he ushered her ahead of him to follow the waitress to a booth.
The waitress handed them menus. “I’m glad you came back for some food, darlin’. I was worried that your morning sickness got the better of you.”
Hannah offered the woman a warm, genuine smile that held Brett riveted, his memory jogged. He remembered that smile from the night they’d hooked up and what it felt like to have it directed at him.
“Wait,” he said as the waitress turned to leave. “Janice, I’m really hungry. I think we’d better get that food on order right now. Hannah, you ready?”
“I’ll have the oatmeal and a fruit cup.”
That wasn’t enough. Not nearly. When his brother’s now ex-wife had been pregnant, she ate her weight in food every day. “I’ll have the Paul Bunyan flapjack stack, the sausage omelet with the cheese grits, and a side of bacon.” He winked at Hannah, whose eyebrows were pinched as though she were onto his plan. “Working on the ranch builds up quite an appetite.”
When the waitress left, he folded his hands on the table. “Let’s get right to this interview. Lucky C—that’s the name of my family’s ranch—needs a new accountant.”
“I know what your family’s ranch is named. Everybody round these parts knows the Coltons, which is why it doesn’t make any sense for you to post the help wanted ad the way you did, anonymously, discretion required.”
On top of everything else, she was smart as a whip. Smart, proud, stubborn and a great dancer. Her list of attributes was getting unwieldy.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
He shook his head. “You’re quick. I can already see you’ll do a great job for the Lucky C.”
She frowned at his compliment. “You’re patronizing me. You don’t even know my qualifications.” From her massive purse, she pulled a page of substantial, pricey stationery from a folder. Her résumé.
“I’m not patronizing you. I put the ad in the classifieds because I need an accountant. You answered the ad and I’m a pretty good judge of character. Something tells me that you’re perfect for the job.”
“I am, but first, tell me why you did what you did, with the anonymous classified ad. Your family’s ranch is huge and prosperous. If you need an accountant, you could have the best in Oklahoma, none of this cloak-and-dagger baloney.”
He could tell she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “My father’s getting up there in years and his memory isn’t what it used to be. I’ve done what I can to help him—we all have—but it’s time we bring in a qualified professional. I made the ad anonymous because my father’s in denial about what’s happening to him and I didn’t want to alert the Tulsa gossip hounds, not after everything our family went through last month.”
That was only a half-truth, but the real reason he’d wanted to hire an accountant wasn’t going to cut through her pride, so he had no remorse for feeding her a line, not when her and their baby’s well-beings were at stake. The real reason he’d put the anonymous ad in the paper was because he’d been planning to hire an accountant to take a look at the ranch’s books on the sly, without his father and brothers’ knowledge, and to help him crunch the numbers for the horse breeding business plan he was going to lay out for his family to consider investing in. But Hannah needed more than a part-time temporary job on the sly.
She set a hand on his forearm, her face pinched with worry. Her nails were trimmed to a short, practical length but were well-manicured and glossy, as though she’d used clear polish on them. “What happened last month? Is everyone okay?”
That surprised him all over again. The local news had done a thorough job raking his family through the public eye. “You mean you didn’t hear?”
Her concerned look deepened, darkening her eyes. “No. Last month was the worst of my life. I was just trying to survive.”
She was just trying to survive. He gripped his knees hard, holding himself back from scolding her. You should have contacted me. I would have taken care of you. I would have taken care of everything.
Brett wasn’t ready for fatherhood, and truth was, it’d take some time for that change in his life to sink in, but nothing was going to stop him from doing the right thing by Hannah and the baby. That’s what Colton men did and that’s what Brett was going to do—for the rest of their lives.
Marriage? Maybe. If that’s what Hannah wanted, what she needed in the long run, then his code of honor depended on making that offer to her. But not yet. Not when he wasn’t sure she’d even agree to come live at the ranch once she heard what happened there the month before. He’d just have to find a way to convince her despite everything, because there was no getting around the truth about the trouble