Loving A Lonesome Cowboy. Debbi Rawlins

to hurt yourself?”

      “Come here.”

      His glare melted and he blinked. “Why?”

      She scooted around the couch and approached him, amazed when he actually took a step back, fear flashing in his eyes. “I’m not going to bite.” She stopped directly in front of him and flexed her right bicep. “Feel this.”

      A startled laugh lightened his expression. “What?”

      “I’m serious. Feel this.”

      “Why?”

      Impatient, she grabbed his hand, but she wasn’t prepared for the slightly rough texture of his fingertips and her thoughts skittered in a shocking direction. Quickly, she composed herself, then brought his hand to the small but firmly carved muscle she had developed over the years.

      Astonishment flickered in his eyes.

      “Not bad, huh?” She released his hand almost as hastily as he pulled it away.

      His gaze met hers, held it for a moment, and then he slowly, wordlessly shook his head and took two steps back.

      “Ethan.” She cupped her hips and stomped a foot. “Would you tell me what’s wrong?”

      “Nothing.” He picked his hat up off the table near the door. Their gazes met again, and something in his eyes sent a shaft of heat through her. “I just remembered something I forgot,” he mumbled, and took off for his truck.

      “Damn coward,” she muttered, then took a deep breath, relieved he was gone.

      ETHAN THREW his hat down on the passenger side of the truck, picked it up and threw it down again. He’d forgotten how stubborn females could be.

      Not Emily, though, he amended. She was as sweet-natured as they came. He pictured her sitting near the fireplace on the brown club chair, knitting or crocheting, smiling and humming as she worked. A cross word never fell from her lips. The one time he’d heard her say darn she’d been horribly embarrassed.

      Relief and guilt warred within him. This was the first time he could remember thinking about her without a knife slicing through his heart. Time would lessen the pain and grief, his friends and neighbors had told him. He hadn’t believed them. Hadn’t wanted to believe them. Emily deserved more from him.

      His gaze strayed toward the house, his thoughts toward the little spitfire inside. She may look small and fragile, but she had muscles in her arms that would put some of his ranch hands to shame. Still, her biceps weren’t all that big, more unexpected because she looked so feminine with all that flowing red-gold hair and full wide mouth, and it got him wondering about where else she might have a muscle or two that would surprise him.

      Disgusted as he was with his thoughts, he couldn’t let go of them. Sara’s smile had somehow dug a groove in the replay area of his brain and kept bushwhacking him when he least expected it. Like last night in the shower, and then after he’d hung his hat for the night. What he had to do was get the hell out of here. Go string some fence. Chop wood. Take Jet for a long ride. The stallion hadn’t been exercised today.

      And when Ethan was finished, he’d go straight back to his shack in his own corner of the world and stay put until it was time to pick up the girls. He glanced at his watch. Erika and Denise would be here in less than twenty-four hours and he’d have more than he could handle. Sam could give Sara a check out of the ranch account and Ethan wouldn’t have to see her again.

      He patted his shirt pocket for his keys. Then his jeans pocket. No keys. He patted his shirt again. What in the hell had he done—

      “Mr. Ethan?”

      He turned abruptly at the sound of Misty’s soft voice. She immediately turned pink and half hid behind the white picket gate to the sidewalk.

      Oh, hell. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

      “Are you coming back?”

      His gaze rose over her head. Had Sara put the girl up to this? “Does your mom know where you are?”

      Her eyes got big, and she shook her head.

      “She’s not going to like you being out here alone.”

      A shy smile lifted her tiny lips. “I’m not alone. I’m with you.”

      Something in her tone and face tugged at him. Something akin to trust. It pierced a corner of his ice-encased heart, shattering it, the pieces melting faster than he knew how to respond. “Well, I’m not sticking around, so you’d better go inside.”

      He expected her to bolt for the house. He didn’t want her trust. Didn’t deserve it. Emily had trusted him. Look where it got her.

      Obviously he hadn’t sounded as gruff as he thought. Misty’s expression didn’t even waver. “When are you coming back?”

      He passed a weary hand over his face. “I don’t think I am.”

      Alarm widened pretty blue eyes so much like her mother’s. “Who’s going to bring us dinner?”

      Surprised, Ethan frowned, then started to chuckle.

      “What’s so funny?” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not polite to laugh at somebody.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      The corners of her mouth started to lift again. “Mom says you’re a nice man. You’re not really a grouch. Just maybe sad about something.”

      Ethan’s humor fled. What did Sara think she was doing analyzing him?

      From inside the house, Sara’s panicked voice called out for her daughter. Misty spun toward the sound, then she looked back at him. “Don’t tell her I was out here, okay?”

      He nodded.

      “Promise?” She was halfway down the sidewalk but she stopped and waited for him to answer.

      “Promise.”

      “Then cross your heart,” she said, walking backwards toward the house.

      Using his index finger, he made an X on the left side of his chest where his heart should have been. At least someone still thought he had one.

      AS SOON AS SARA saw Ethan’s truck in the drive that evening, she let go of the drapes so he couldn’t see her waiting. At least she assumed the dust that had been kicked up belonged to his truck. The dusky twilight hampered her vision and easily camouflaged the dark-colored pickup.

      She was glad Misty was still changing into her pajamas, just in case Ethan put up a fight. Not that he’d win. Sara pushed back her sleeves, then leaned against the door and listened.

      A minute later she thought she heard the truck’s engine and possibly the door opening. She didn’t hear it close, but that didn’t surprise her. The coward had probably left the driver’s door open and the motor running.

      When she heard the steps to the porch creak, she flung open the door. The astonished look on Ethan’s face was priceless. He’d been just about to set a picnic basket on the porch, but he immediately straightened.

      “Here,” he said and tried to hand her the basket.

      She didn’t take it. “What’s this?”

      He shrugged. “Supper.”

      “How nice.” She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped back. “Come in. I’ll set an extra place at the table.”

      He rolled a shoulder, and tried to pass her the basket again. “I’m not staying.”

      “Why not?” She tilted her head to the side and eyed him quizzically. What in the heck did he think she wanted from him other than a job?

      “I have things to do.”

      “I see.” She straightened her back. “Thank you, Mr. Slade, but we don’t accept charity.”