The Wrangler And The Runaway Mom

She did a quick assessment of her schedule. She had to prepare the exam trailer for any injured riders from tonight’s competition, but that wouldn’t take her much time. An hour, tops.

And Nicky wanted to ride Colt’s horse so badly. How could she refuse her son this one small thing, after she had dragged him away from all that he loved, forced him to give up everything secure in his little life?

“Yes,” she finally answered. “I suppose eleven would be fine.”

“Meet us at the practice racetrack. You know where that is?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Good.” He smiled that teasing grin she was beginning to find entirely too addictive. “I’ll see you then.”

* * *

He didn’t think they’d show up.

Colt kept one eye on the pathway from the campground while he checked Scout’s tack and adjusted the stirrups to an appropriate length for an almost-six-year-old.

It wouldn’t surprise him if she stayed away. She had been so skittish this morning, avoiding his gaze and hanging on to that bag like it was filled with gold.

Even nearly four hours later, Maggie’s tantalizing peach scent still filled his senses. Fresh-scrubbed from the shower, with her skin as dewy as the morning grass and her hair still damp, she’d been damn near irresistible.

When she’d come barreling around the corner and landed in his arms, it had taken every last ounce of his self-control to keep from stealing a little taste.

He wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting a woman. The desire pulsed under his skin and left him itchy and uneasy. It had sure as hell complicated what was supposed to be an easy assignment.

He had to put a lid on it. Simple as that. He wanted DeMarranville too much to let something as insignificant as simple lust screw it up for him. He was bound to make mistakes if he let his hormones do the thinking for him, so the trick would be figuring out a way to keep his distance from the beautiful Dr. Rawlings at the same time try to coax her to open up emotionally.

A warm breeze puffed out of the mountains, ruffling the hair at the base of his neck. It made him think of home and the ranch and the simple joy of working out in the morning sunshine.

To his surprise he felt little more than a passing twinge. 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.”