Page 2 of A Family With the Cowboy

Just then a harried-looking waitress arrived. “What can I get you?”

They ordered and Laura excused herself. She needed time to take a breath and give Maria and Luis a few minutes alone.

As she walked away, she turned her head ever so slightly to look at the table next to theirs. A pair of amber eyes, the color of the triple-distilled whiskey her dad had always preferred, met hers. Her heart kicked against her ribs. Wow, a real-life cowboy, if the hat resting on his knee was anything to go by.

Quickly she moved toward the bathroom, the tingle down her spine telling her he was still looking her way.

In the small room, she quickly washed her hands. Inhaling shakily, she stared at herself before combing her fingers through her longish bob. It was Friday, and Monday would be her first working day as a teacher at Marietta Elementary School. She’d left Missoula early this morning and had arrived just before lunch. It was only about a four-hour drive. Along the way she’d stopped a few times, so she wasn’t really tired, but she was going to excuse herself after dinner.

She was staying at Annie’s for a few days before moving into the rental house she’d been fortunate to find on Collier Street. Her furniture and books would arrive sometime next week, she’d been told. At some point she’d probably look into buying a house, but she wanted to take her time doing that.

Getting tingles down her back because a cowboy was looking at her was so not something she had time for right now. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the bathroom door. As she stepped out, she bumped into a solid body. Earthy tones of man and musk swirled around her. Immediately, all her senses jumped to attention.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and tried to escape, but the person in front of her wasn’t moving.

“Excuse me,” she tried again and, irritated, she pushed against him. Big mistake. Her hands landed on a warm, muscled torso. They both froze. She looked up. It was the same cowboy she’d caught staring at her minutes earlier.

Those whiskey-colored eyes didn’t blink. “You passing through town?” a deep voice rumbled.

She shook her head.

One side of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Pity.” His head dropped. “Something tells me you may not be so averse to sweaty cowboys as you think.”

Before she could catch her breath, he’d turned away and was walking through the swinging doors into the night.

Blinking, she steadied herself against the wall. Oh, my. If the first cowboy she met in town had this effect on her, it was a good thing she was living and working in town and would hopefully not run into any on a daily basis.

She quickly made her way back to the table. Her whole body was still tingling.

*

Hayden got offhis horse. He’d been out with his two brothers since early morning, looking for stragglers. They’d probably join him soon. As he tied the reins to the gate at the small family graveyard at the foot of the hill, he inhaled the cold air and looked around him.

He would forever be grateful for a great-grandfather who had picked this piece of land and settled here. To the southeast lay Yellowstone National Park, and from here, you could feast your eyes on the snowcapped peaks of the Absaroka Range of the Rockies. To the northeast lay the Gallatin River. His family’s blood and tears had been spilled to work this land full of wildlife, hot springs, and roaming cattle.

Since the previous Friday night, he’d been out of sorts. It was Monday, ten days later, but he was still restless. Since he’d seen the blonde. Since she’d touched him. Since he’d inhaled her flowery scent. Since something had stirred inside of him, for the first time in a long time. What the hell had gotten into him, he didn’t know, but for one moment he’d thought if she was passing through town, he could take her to the Graff Hotel and have sex with her.

Muttering and cussing, he opened the gate and entered. Sex wasn’t something he’d thought about for two long years. Damn it, he didn’t have time for this. He had a ranch to run.

There was something in the way she’d held her head, the way her hair swung over her shoulders when she moved, that had caught his eye, and once he’d noticed her he couldn’t seem to look away. She was gorgeous. Honey-blonde hair fell to her shoulders in a straight bob. His fingers had itched. Literally. All he could think about was running his fingers through her tresses. And when she stood up and he saw those long, well-formed, jeans-clad legs, there was a moment he was worried he’d slobber all over the table.

The last time he’d felt such an immediate attraction had been when he’d met his late wife, Madeline.

With his eyes on the last two tombstones, he walked past the graves of his great-grandfather and great-grandmother, his grandpa and his nana, and past his dad’s until he reached the spot between his wife’s and his brother’s grave.

As always when he came here, the permanent band that had been around his chest for the past five years tightened. There was no getting over grief, he’d learned over time. You simply had to learn to live with the pain that would forever be a part of you.

Cancer had taken Madeline, his beautiful, loving wife, two years ago. He’d thought nothing could ever be worse than losing his brother, but then Madeline fell ill. Luke, their son, had only been six at the time. Hayden had no idea how he would cope, how to be a dad and a mom to their energetic and strong-willed little boy. He still didn’t.

And looking at his son, it was clear he wasn’t doing a great job. Since his mom had passed away, Luke had changed from a laughing, happy child to a silent one. His smile was gone. He rarely spoke. He’d started school just after Madeline passed and was now in second grade. Hayden tried talking to him about his day during dinner, but all he usually got was a shrug, so he had no idea how Luke was coping.

His siblings had their meals at the big homestead where he and Luke—and until two years ago, Madeline—lived. Isabella, the wife of one of the oldest cowboys on the ranch, Ricardo, had been cooking for them ever since he could remember. They all enjoyed each other’s company; it was also one of the few times he got to see his son. He would have to get creative and find another time to talk to Luke.

He should probably also go and see the teacher, but on a busy ranch there never seemed to be time.

Sighing, his eyes moved to the other grave and lingered over the words engraved on the cold marble.Walker Weston—you were loved, followed by the date of his brother’s birth and the date of the accident in which they’d lost him—February 11th, exactly five years ago.

And as always happened when he came here, the events of that fateful night flashed before his eyes. He’d been driving. Both of his other brothers, Becket and Cooper, as well as their sister, Willow, were in the car. Although they seldom talked about the accident, he knew his siblings were all blaming themselves for what happened too. The bottom line was, though, he was the one behind the wheel. He was responsible.

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