Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones of Texas 6)

“Yes, Click. Is he available?” the woman asked. “I need to speak with him.”

Tandy picked up the pencil. “He’s out working. Can I take a message for him?”

There was a long pause. “My name is Georgia Miles. I wanted to speak with him.”

Tandy’s heart thudded to a stop. Georgia. Pearl’s mom.

“Is that possible?” Georgia asked. “He can’t call me back, and I won’t be able to call again for a while.”

Tandy snapped out of it. “Let me see if I can flag him down. Can you wait a minute?”

“I’ll wait.”

Tandy hurried out the back door, shielding her eyes. No sign of him. She ran to the barn, calling for him. “Click?” She turned back when he rode into the yard. “You’ve got a phone call. Important.”

He frowned. “Important?”

“Pearl’s mom,” she managed. “I can take Domino. You should get it.”

He swung out of the saddle, his nod tight as he pressed the reins into her hand. He headed into the house, his posture growing more rigid with each step. Her heart hurt for him. And Pearl. Was there some sort of understanding between Click and the woman? What would happen to Pearl once Georgia was done with her treatment? Would Click lose her?

The pressure was sudden, compressing her chest—emptying her lungs and squeezing her heart. She watched him disappear into the house with dread seeping into her bones.

Tandy led Domino into the barn. She removed the saddle and saddle blanket, hanging them on the rack mounted to the wall. The whole time, she was thinking of Click. It wasn’t fair. He and Pearl just found the rhythm. Would Georgia take his daughter?

Click would do whatever it took to keep her. Wouldn’t he?

There was a chance she’d lose them. Click. And Pearl.

She finished brushing Domino and turned the horse into the small paddock behind the barn. She lingered, wanting to give Click some privacy. But, when he didn’t come back, she gave up and headed back to the kitchen.

He wasn’t in the kitchen.

Or the parlor.

Or the bedroom.

Was everything okay?

She was headed back to her room when the bathroom door opened and he stepped out. His thick black hair was wet, like the towel wrapped low around his waist. She did her best not to stare. She’d seen him shirtless before, countless times. And, somehow, the sight never failed to make her desperate with want.

“I... You okay?” she asked, rattled. “Never mind. Not now.” She stepped back.

His blue-green gaze pinned hers, on fire for her.

“I... I...” She closed the distance between them, mindless as she slid her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him—driving him into the wall at his back. She wanted to comfort him, yes. But she also wanted him. So much she ached.

He caught her, his arms viselike around her.

His skin was warm beneath her hands. The ball of his shoulders, the clenched thickness of his upper arms, he was strong yet gentle. His breath powered out of him as his mouth sealed against hers. She moaned, her fingers threading through his hair and tightening, holding him close.

His lips parted, the slide of his tongue against hers making her knees buckle. But his arms were around her, pressing her against him and holding her up.

Her hands stroked over his chest, her fingers exploring the planes and edges of his sides and stomach. He was all muscle, honed from working hard. His hands, calloused and strong, tugged her shirt from her jeans and slid beneath her shirt. Her skin contracted, every nerve humming with frantic need. She wanted him so much. His hands, his mouth, his body.

His hand moved up her spine, slipping beneath her bra strap.

Tandy’s fingers moved quickly, freeing the buttons and shrugging out of her cotton shirt.