Her Cowboy Hero. Tanya Michaels

son’s sticky hug—was that jam on his fingers?—Hannah sprinted after Colin. And drew up short to avoid smacking into him. He, in turn, had apparently halted to avoid running over a startled Annette.

      The blonde’s mouth had fallen open in a perfect O, making her look like a comic strip character. “Um, hi?” Her eyes darted to Hannah. “Sorry, I...forgot you had a breakfast meeting.”

      Fat chance. Given the concern Annette had expressed over a stranger spending the night, Hannah wasn’t surprised her friend had come over first thing to check on her. At least Annette hadn’t dragged her husband, Todd, along. No doubt Annette had plenty of questions about why the man who should be sitting comfortably at the table listing his credentials had almost mowed her over.

      Hannah stepped forward to make introductions—which just so happened to strategically place her between Colin and the front door. “Colin, meet Annette. She’s here to drop off Evan and pick up some cupcakes. They’re really good, if I do say so myself.” Deep down, she hoped that if she kept talking, he couldn’t leave. He might be gruff, but surely he wasn’t brusque enough to walk out midconversation? “Annette, this is Colin Cade. We were about to eat and discuss Colin’s previous ranch experience.”

      “No, we weren’t,” he said firmly. He gave a curt nod in Annette’s direction. “Ma’am.”

      Annette raised a pale eyebrow. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

      He shook his head, already moving toward the door again. Something in his demeanor suggested he would pick up Hannah and remove her bodily from his path if necessary. “Nothing to interrupt. I was on my way out.” He opened the screen door, letting it clatter shut behind him.

      Gesturing toward the kitchen in an all-purpose indication that Annette should help herself to the food and please keep an eye on Evan, Hannah followed. Was it her son’s appearance that had sent Colin fleeing, or had she been too manic in her perky approach? One of her favorite high school teachers had always said that enthusiasm was contagious, but that didn’t seem to be the case with Colin. Maybe she should dial it back a notch.

      His much longer legs gave him the advantage. He was already down in the yard, but she wasn’t too proud to jog down the porch steps.

      “Wait, Colin, I—” Crack.

      The board under her gave way, and Hannah gasped as her foot went through the fissure at a wrong angle. Suddenly, he was at her side, his hands warm on her hips as he lifted her. For a big man, he moved surprisingly fast.

      “You’re hurt.” Putting his arms around her, he lifted her vertically so she wouldn’t have to navigate the steps and lowered her onto the porch. Tingles of awareness erupted like goose bumps across her skin. It had been eternities since she’d been that close to a man.

      “Twisted my ankle,” she said breathlessly, “but it’s nothing ice and ibuprofen won’t fix.”

      He glowered, those blue eyes stormy. “You seem to have some strange ideas about what’s fixable. Your truck’s a pile of scrap metal, and you live in a house that’s rotting out from under you.”

      “It is not.” Annoyed, she shoved away from him, not even caring that she had to hobble to do so. “I’ll admit the steps need replacing—all the rain hasn’t helped. Maybe some of the railing is a little loose, too. But I made sure the main house was structurally sound before I moved my son here.”

      At the mention of Evan, Colin’s gaze skittered behind her, as if she’d reminded him that there was a nuclear warhead inside rather than a four-year-old boy.

      “Wow. You really don’t like kids, do you?”

      He blanched, but didn’t answer.

      Admitting defeat, Hannah shook her head sadly. She was stubborn, not delusional. “Thank you for changing my tire yesterday. Safe journeys wherever you’re headed next.”

      Trying to keep her weight off the throbbing ankle, she pivoted toward the door. With a sound of strangled frustration, Colin clamped his fingers around her upper arm.

      “I don’t know where I’m going next,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I’m replacing those damn steps before I go.” He glanced around the spacious wraparound porch. “This entire thing’s probably a safety hazard that should be reinforced, if not rebuilt.”

      Renewed hope surged through her, eclipsing her pain. “I insist on paying for your time as well as the materials.” She kept her voice calm, trying not to betray her joy at this small victory.

      “You have tools?”

      She nodded. “There’s a small detached garage behind the house. Pretty well stocked, as far as I can tell. I can show you.”

      He slanted her an assessing glance. “You should get inside, off that ankle. If you’ve got a tape measure handy, I’ll start taking measurements.”

      “Sure. I’ll send Annette out with it. She can take you to the garage.” Hannah made a mental note to instruct her friend not to interrogate Colin or overwhelm him with boisterous conversation. Otherwise, he might follow his original impulse and bolt. As it stood, she had at least a couple of days, a window of opportunity to plead her case. But with more subtlety this time.

      He narrowed his eyes. “Just this one repair job. That’s not the same as signing on with you, Mrs. Shaw.”

      She nodded innocently. We’ll see about that.

      Chapter Three

      In the parking lot of a Bingham Pass diner, Colin sat inside a truck older than he was, as disoriented as if an Arabian Thoroughbred had kicked him in the skull.

      Earlier that morning, he’d been ready to jump on his motorcycle and put Hannah Shaw, her energetic son and her ill-fated ranch all behind him. Yet he’d spent several hours purchasing lumber and paint and getting a new tire for her misbegotten truck. Since he’d never actually gotten around to eating breakfast—and because he was in no hurry to return to the Silver Linings—he’d stayed in town for lunch.

      Bingham Pass, like his hometown of Cielo Peak, was rife with local gossip. As soon as Colin had mentioned the Silver Linings Ranch, the waitress had sighed sadly and remarked that Hannah’s husband, a marine, had been killed overseas.

      I was taught self-defense by a marine, and I’m a lot tougher than I look.

      In hindsight, Colin acknowledged that his worry and anger at seeing Hannah fall through that bottom step had been disproportional to her minor injury. She seemed irrepressible. A mild sprain wouldn’t keep her down for long. But how could he walk away, knowing a young woman or her kid might be hurt when he could have prevented it?

      He couldn’t leave with a clear conscience until he replaced the boards. Paradoxically, he still couldn’t bring himself to return to the ranch yet—hence the sitting in a parked truck. He needed the few extra moments to brace himself for whatever surprise came at him next.

      Ever since spotting Hannah through the rain, he’d felt off-kilter, unbalanced by her identity, her affable hellhound, the discovery that she had a little boy. None of it was what he’d expected. He should phone the so-called buddy who’d given him this lead. Colin had a few choice words for the man who’d led him to believe the “frail Widow Shaw” was a little old lady.

      He powered up the cell phone he usually kept turned off. If asked, he would claim he left it off to make the charge last, but, truthfully, he was dodging his sister. A few weeks ago, Arden’s husband had undergone major surgery in order to donate one of his kidneys to his biological father. As a concerned older brother, Colin had dutifully answered every one of her calls, wanting to be there for her in case anything had gone wrong.

      But she’d abused the privilege. She’d acted as if she were calling with post-op updates on Garrett, but then she inevitably worked the conversation around to how Garrett’s family could use the extra help on the Double F Ranch while he recuperated. Wouldn’t