He ought to be feeling lousy right about now since he was missing out on his vacation. The idea of spending uninterrupted time at the ranch was all that had kept him going through those last miserable weeks on the Spider Militia case. So why wasn’t he feeling worse?
If he didn’t know better, he might even make the mistake of thinking he was enjoying himself on this case.
“Colt! Hey, Colt!”
The high-pitched shout dragged him from his thoughts, and he turned to find Nicky peeking through the rails of the fence, his big brown eyes bright with eagerness.
A grin split Colt’s face at the sight of the little boy decked out in that Wild West getup again.
“Well, howdy. If it isn’t my old amigo, Nicky the Kid.”
Maggie’s son beamed and stuck out his thin chest. “I’m all ready to ride. Got my chaps on and everything.”
“I can see that. You look like a regular bronc buster.”
“Mom tried to get me to just wear jeans but I told her I had to wear my chaps or I’d get saddle sore, isn’t that right?” the little boy said.
“Smart move.” Colt bit down on his smile and turned his attention to Maggie, standing a few paces behind her son. She wore tan jeans and a pale pink T-shirt that made her skin look pearly, almost translucent. Her long hair, loose and unrestrained, swayed like wheat dancing in the wind when she walked forward.
Despite his best intentions, his mouth started to water.
Oblivious to his sudden sharp hunger, she propped her elbows on the top rail of the fence. “What’s a mom supposed to say to that kind of argument? I wouldn’t want him to get saddle sore, after all.”
Her voice was as cool as ice cream in July. Damn. She’d put up those walls between them again. He’d been so close to gaining her trust. This morning he had sensed she was desperate for someone to share her concerns with, that she wanted to tell him what had her running scared. It would make his job so much simpler if she would confide in him. For every inch of progress he made, though, she forced him back another two.
At least the kid was on his side. “Well, partner,” he turned to the little boy, “you ready to saddle up?”
Nicky nodded and scrambled through the fence. “You betcha.” He skidded to a stop near Scout’s forelegs and, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, took the big gelding’s measure.
Up close the horse must have looked a whole lot bigger than he had from the fence, because Nicky stared at him, gnawing his bottom lip and frowning.
“Uh, Colt...”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think I can climb up there.”
“I’ll help you.” He lifted Nick and swung him onto the saddle. The boy looked incongruously small atop the big horse, but he sat in the saddle like he’d been born to it. He reached forward and patted Scout’s neck. “Hi there, Scout. My name’s Nicholas.”
“Okay now, I’m comin’ up Hang on.” Colt grabbed the horn and swung up behind him. The boy settled into his arms and gave a little squeal of excitement when Colt spurred Scout forward
“Mom!” he yelled to Maggie, watching from the fence. “Look, Mom! I’m ridin’ a horse!”
“I can see that,” she called back. “Hang on.”
They were the only ones using the practice race track, and Nick chattered excitedly as Scout moved along at a steady walk. Colt smiled at one of the boy’s funny little observations and was astonished at the pleasure he found in his excitement.
He’d never thought about having a child before. Not that he was consciously opposed to the idea; he’d just never had the opportunity. Cynthia hadn’t exactly been the maternal type, and he’d never had strong feelings either way.
Besides, during their two-year marriage he’d been so completely focused on the job he’d never given the idea of bringing children into the world a second thought.
With the soft weight of Maggie’s son in his arms pressing against his chest, though, he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have a kid of his own, to be teaching his own boy how to ride.
His father had taken him up on a horse just like this before he could walk. It was one of his earliest memories of Jack McKendrick: his father’s rough, scarred hands on the reins, his gravelly voice in his ear, telling him how to hold the reins and guide with his knees.
The ache in his throat took him completely by surprise. Jack had been gone nearly fourteen years, after all, since Colt was twenty-two. He thought he’d long ago become accustomed to the realization that he’d never be able to make things right with his father.
“Hi, Mom!” Nicky suddenly yelled. While he was busy woolgathering, Scout had carried them back around the track to where Maggie stood watching. She waved and smiled, and the breeze caught strands of her hair, twisting them around her face.
Lord, she was beautiful. The unique thing about Maggie Rawlings was that she seemed completely oblivious to her appeal. There was a shy kind of innocence about her.
Unless he was a hell of a lot better at concealing it than he thought, she had no idea of the heated little darts of desire that sizzled beneath his skin that would have been obvious to another woman.
He thought again about his vow to contain his growing attraction. He was fairly sure he could handle the physical end of things. It was the emotional tug he felt toward both Maggie and Nick that scared the hell out of him.
“Can we go around again?” Nicky asked.
Colt looked at Maggie for permission. She shrugged. “It’s up to you. It’s your horse.”
“I hate to disappoint a customer. Hang on.” He spurred Scout to a trot and was rewarded with a shriek of glee from the boy.
The warm summer sun warmed her back as Maggie leaned on the fence watching Colt and her son. Nicky was absolutely eating this up. Already, he was imitating everything the cowboy did, from his slow—and she had to admit, very sexy—drawl, to the the way he cocked his dark head when he grinned.
She wasn’t exactly sure how that made her feel. Amused, certainly. And maybe a little bereft, too, as if Nicky was pulling away from her.
She did know it shouldn’t move her so much to see the big, rough cowboy being so gentle with her son. Colt sat with one hand around Nicholas’s belly to hold him in place and the other on the reins. As they came around the track again, she could see him dipping his dark head as he talked to Nicky. A few moments later he handed him the reins to let him control the horse for the rest of the ride.
Soon they reined in the horse in front of her again.
“Did you see me, Mom?” Nicky nearly bubbled over with excitement. “I rode Scout, and Colt didn’t even help me. Well—” honesty compelled him to admit “—not very much.”
“I watched you. You make a good wrangler.”
“That’s what Colt says. He says maybe I can ride Scout again tomorrow. Can I, Mom?”
“We’ll see.”
He was still chattering when Colt hefted him down from the saddle and set him on the ground.
Colt glanced up at the sun, now high overhead. “Looks like it’s about lunchtime. How would you two like to go somewhere for lunch?”
The invitation took her completely by surprise. “I don’t—”
“Please, Mom!” Nicky asked, obviously loath to leave his new hero’s side.
Refusing would sound churlish, especially after he had been kind enough to take them riding, but she knew he couldn’t have much money or he wouldn’t be desperate enough to ride on the circuit.
And