High Country Hideout. Elle James

      ANGUS’S LEG ACHED like crazy, but no matter how much it pained him, he’d die before showing even a shred of weakness in front of the owner of the Last Chance Ranch. Had he known the owner was female...what? Would he have refused the only job offer he’d had since being discharged from the army?

      No. He couldn’t. Who else would hire him?

      His muscles clenched, his gut knotted and his heart rate kicked up.

      Ranger nudged his fingers, reminding him to remain calm and to scratch his ears. The dog sensed when anger or anxiety threatened to overwhelm Angus. When it did, Ranger stepped in and nudged his hand or laid his nose in his owner’s lap. The contact and resulting calm helped Angus regain his focus within seconds.

      He had no problem working for females. He’d reported to female commanders. They were every bit as competent as the men, some more so. Then why did it bother him that Reggie Davis was female?

      Because when he’d turned her over on the ground and stared down into those startling blue eyes, he’d taken a hit straight to his gut. The woman was everything he’d resigned himself to forget. She was strong, yet feminine and sexy as hell in blue jeans and a cowboy hat.

      What woman would want a broken man like him? What did he have to offer? Crippled and plagued with PTSD flashbacks, he’d be more effort than he was worth. He wouldn’t wish himself on anyone. Especially not a lone female trying to run a ranch all by herself. She didn’t need the added burden.

      The soft touch of her skin lingered with him, reminding him that he hadn’t been with a woman since before he’d left for his last deployment to Afghanistan. Oh, there’d been doctors, nurses and physical therapists hovering around him for months, but that was different. They’d only touched him because it was their job, and he hadn’t been in the least interested in them. How could he be? Up until he’d left rehab, and even now, he still experienced blinding residual and phantom pain from his injury.

      His leg throbbed. He really needed to get off it and put it up for a while. He hadn’t had to stand for hours in a long time. Working a ranch would prove difficult at best. But it beat sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

      He found leather oil in the tack room and spent time oiling the leather on the girth straps and rubbing it into the saddle. The longer he waited, the less time he’d have to spend in the company of others.

      Fifteen minutes after Reggie had left him in the barn, a door opened and closed. He sat quietly, hoping whoever it was would leave him alone.

      From his position inside the tack room, Angus heard the shuffle of footsteps but couldn’t tell who was there until a small boy appeared in the doorway.

      He had longish dark brown hair, brown eyes and a pale little face. He must be the son Reggie had referred to, though he didn’t look much like her.

      For several long moments he stood, staring at Angus rubbing oil into the saddle leather. “Are you a real cowboy?” he finally asked.

      Angus glanced across at the boy. “I don’t know. What is a real cowboy?”

      The boy promptly answered, “A man who wears a cowboy hat and rides a horse.”

      Angus glanced at the cowboy hat sitting on the workbench beside him. “That’s my hat.”

      The boy considered the hat and then Angus. “Do you ride horses?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Then you must be a cowboy.”

      “I guess you have a point.” Angus set the rag and oil aside and replaced the saddle on the saddletree. “Does your mother know where you are?”

      The boy shrugged. “I come out here all the time.”

      “In the dark?”

      He dipped his head. “No, but I know my way back.”

      “How about you and I go back together?”

      The boy seemed to think about it and then raised his hand.

      Angus captured the hand in his, marveling at how small and trusting the child was. Unused to small children, Angus held the boy’s hand, swallowing the tiny fingers with his own.

      “Have you had supper yet?” Angus asked.

      “No, sir. Mrs. Jo asked me to come get you. It’s almost six o’clock.”

      “Then we’d better get going or we’ll be late for dinner.”

      They exited the barn together, Angus closing the door behind them.

      “What’s your name?” the boy asked as he walked alongside Angus, trying to match his short strides to Angus’s longer ones.

      “Angus.”

      “Angus.” The boy tipped his head. “Isn’t that a cow?”

      Angus grinned. “A kind of cow.”

      Nodding, the boy trotted along a little farther before saying, “My name is Tad.”

      “Nice to meet you, Tad.”

      He had to admit, a strange feeling came over him as he walked with the boy at his side. It felt right. How, he didn’t know. But he liked answering the boy’s questions. The kid was polite, curious and instilled powerful protective instincts in Angus.

      The child had pluck. He didn’t ask Angus to slow down, taking three steps for every one of Angus’s long, if gimpy, strides.

      When they finally reached the porch, the boy ran up the steps and turned to face him. “Could you teach me how to ride a horse like a cowboy?”

      “I could,” he said, wondering what his mother would say about him promising to teach the boy to ride.

      As he mounted the steps, Angus’s brows furrowed.

      A woman, a kid and two old people on their own on a ranch in the hills. And someone had planted a snake where the woman was bound to ride. Although it was a fake snake, it had accomplished its mission. The horse had spooked, the rider had fallen. Whether it was a practical joke or had malicious connotations was pure conjecture.

      CW seemed a pretty down-to-earth old man. He would not have called his old friend Hank for help if he wasn’t convinced Reggie Davis was in trouble.

      Angus’s gut told him the situation bore watching. Even a man with only one good leg would be better than no one. But he would put in a call to the head of Covert Cowboys Inc. Reggie and her small son deserved someone more capable of taking care of them.

       Chapter Three

      Reggie had stripped in the mudroom, wrapped a towel around herself and headed through the house to shower. All the while her mind drifted back to the man in the barn and the way her body still felt after simply brushing up against him.

      Naked beneath the towel, her breasts tightened. Jo and CW had insisted on the new ranch hand staying in the house. The older couple had a small cabin nearby, which meant they wouldn’t be around at night should she need help.

      What if she ran into him in the hallway when she was only wearing a towel?

      Her body burned at the thought. Holy hell, she was lusting after a stranger. How could she, when her husband had only been gone a year?

      She entered the master bedroom and closed the door. Riffling through a drawer, she unearthed clean underwear. If they happened to be her best, black-lace bikini panties, that was only because all her cotton underwear were in the wash.

      Once in the master bathroom, she dropped her clothing on the counter and switched on the water, adjusting it to hot. When she faced herself in the mirror, she almost laughed out loud.

      Though her body was somewhat clean, her jeans and shirt taking the brunt of the mud