Cheyenne Dad

“Wonderful.” Dakota didn’t try to mask the sarcasm in his tone.

Annie leaned over. “Hello, Kody,” she said, using the nickname the boys had given him. She wasn’t about to let his sour attitude intimidate her. They certainly couldn’t snarl at each other in front of the children, so they may as well learn to be polite now. “It’s nice to see you.”

He reached into his front pocket for a cigarette. The Western shirt boasted whipcord trim and a pearl-snap placket. “Yeah, squirt. Likewise.”

Annie studied his brooding posture. How tall was the man who still insisted on calling her squirt? Well over six feet. Of course, the black hat and scuffed leather boots intensified his threatening demeanor. Even seated, he looked rough and rangy.

“It’s a nonsmoking flight,” Mary said when Dakota lit up.

He scowled. “Do we look like we’re on the plane yet?”

Annie noticed he inhaled as though savoring each drag, a reminder that she would have to enforce the No Smoking rule at home. She insisted on a healthy environment for the kids. Dakota would just have to smoke outside.

He stamped out his cigarette when their flight number was called. As he stood, a huddle of attractive young women craned their necks. For some odd reason Annie wanted to scratch their eyes out. Sex or no sex, he’d still be her husband.

Temporary husband, she amended, calming herself. Six months, tops. Annie chewed her bottom lip, then glanced at Dakota. It wasn’t as though she was purposely deceiving Harold. The children would always have Dakota as a father. But common sense told her the adoption would outlive the marriage. Free-spirited men, much like leopards, didn’t change their spots. Dakota Graywolf would be pining for his freedom in no time.

They shuffled into a line and waited for the passengers who either required assistance or were traveling with small children to board first.

After a frazzled woman boarded with her active toddler, Dakota turned to Annie. “You know, I was thinking that there’s no need for you to take the kids to a baby-sitter this summer. I can watch them.”

Disbelief widened her eyes. “But what about your work? Don’t you have orders to fill?” Since Dakota had retired from the rodeo, he’d turned his silversmith hobby into a business. She knew he planned to set up a workshop in her garage.

He adjusted the duffel bag. “Sure, but how much trouble can three little rug rats be?”

Annie caught Mary’s raised eyebrow and they both erupted into one of their giggling fits. The “rug rats,” ages two, five and eight, each had their own special personality. Besides being adorable—possessive, serious and rambunctious described them to a T.

“What’s so funny?” he asked between clenched teeth.

“You.” Mary bumped his shoulder with a sisterly shove. A psychology major with a minor in theater arts, Mary analyzed everyone and offered advice without being asked. “You have no idea what supervising small children is like. You haven’t seen the boys in two years. Maybe you should consider easing into fatherhood.”

“I call the kids all the time,” Dakota argued. “Every week.”

Mary continued to chuckle. “That doesn’t mean they’re going to behave while you work.”

He dismissed her opinion with the wave of his hand. “Yeah? Just wait and see.” He cocked his head toward Annie. “You, too, squirt.”

Annie ceased her laughter. How many times a day must that annoying nickname surface?

They boarded the plane and sat three across. Dakota ended up in the middle because Mary wanted to look out the window and Annie preferred the aisle.

When they were airborne, a female flight attendant came down the aisle offering a drink and two bags of peanuts. Annie and Mary both ordered a soft drink.

Dakota readjusted his long limbs for the third time. “Give me one of those little bottles of—” he glanced over at Annie and their eyes met “—whisky.”

Uncomfortable, Annie looked away. He used to say a man could get drunk on her whisky-colored eyes. Was he trying to make that flirtatious point now, or did he usually drink his breakfast?

After the attendant moved on, Dakota turned to his sister. “Don’t you dare say a word.”

“Sure.” She popped a peanut into her mouth. “Everybody knows 10:00 a.m. is the perfect cocktail hour.”

When the whisky arrived, he apologized for the inconvenience and asked if he could have a glass of water instead. “I changed my mind,” he said, staring into Annie’s eyes once again.

As his dark gaze moved down her body, she crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, glad the fold-out tray concealed most of her. She had chosen to travel in an almond-colored cotton pant-suit accented with a suede belt and sling-back heels. Annie had a professional yet stylish wardrobe; she had graduated from college with a degree in fashion design.

As Dakota’s gaze seared his approval, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She almost felt as though he were mentally undressing her. Almost. He glanced away before she could be sure. Maybe he got as far as popping open a few buttons, she decided, actually checking the front of her blouse to be sure they were in place.

As her hand crept to her second button, his lips twitched. The fleeting smile had a sensuality attached that made her cheeks feel flushed.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Annie stopped fidgeting with her buttons. “Nothing.”

The twitching smile returned. “Guess what, squirt? I booked us the honeymoon suite.”

Annie glanced over at Mary, hoping she might intervene, but the other woman wore headphones and was tapping in time to the music selection she had chosen.

“Dakota.”

Amusement danced in his black eyes. “What?”

Suddenly she wished he’d go back to his brooding self. “I’m sharing a room with Mary.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just kidding around.” He tore open one of the little peanut bags. “But haven’t you ever wondered about honeymoon suites? Like do they have mirrors above the beds or heart-shaped hot tubs or what?”

Actually she had but wouldn’t dare admit it. “It never crossed my mind.” Images of being with Dakota Graywolf in a honeymoon suite could prove dangerous.

He shifted his legs for what had to be the fourth or fifth time. Definitely too tall for coach, she decided. “Six-one,” she said, thinking out loud.

He answered what he must have thought was a question. “Two. Three in boots. And I hate these coach flights.”

Annie couldn’t resist a smirk. “This suits me just fine. I’m still a squirt.” Teasing about the childhood nickname seemed easier than complaining about it. Besides, maybe it was safer having him regard her as “squirt” rather than a woman.

He finished off the peanuts and stuffed the bag into his empty water cup. “Yeah, you’re still little, but you grew up beautiful. Just like I knew you would.”

Annie turned toward the aisle as the flight attendant neared, grateful for the interruption. Dakota’s hushed tone and gentle words had sounded like a bedroom whisper. Intimate and husky.

The attendant took their empty cups and moved on just as the plane hit a pocket of turbulence.

Several passengers murmured, and more than one pair of eyes popped open as the plane bumped and jarred. Annie, an inexperienced flyer, gripped her armrest for support, unintentionally catching Dakota’s hand.

His fingers curled around hers. “You okay?”

“I don’t like being away from the kids.” She let him hold her hand because the gesture made her feel safe. He had protective hands, large and slightly callused. “If something happened to us…”

He rubbed his fingertips over her knuckles. “Nothing’s going to happen. It’s just a little turbulence.”

“I know. It’s the first time I’ve spent a night away.”