Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption: Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption

“Why would you? I’m not a girl.”

He raised his head and smiled at her. “In this light you could be. Young and scared. A little confused, maybe.”

She frowned. “But since I’m none of those things…”

“I don’t know that.” He caressed her face with the backs of his fingers. “Who said you could call all the shots?”

“Is there something wrong with me?” She swallowed hard. “I mean, something you don’t like?”

“Uh-uh. Everything looks just right.”

“Looks can deceive.” She dragged her fingers from his belt to his zipper. “But this feels right.”

“You don’t wanna believe that guy.” He moved his hips just enough to let her know that there was nothing wrong with him, either. “No matter what the question, he’s only got one answer.”

“He’s honest,” she whispered. “Stands up for what he believes in.”

He kissed her again, so fully and thoroughly that the taste of his lips and the darting of his tongue, the strength of his arms and the sharp intake of his breath satisfied all her wishes. She had feeling in every part of her body. She didn’t want it to go away, not one tingle, not one spark, and she reached around him and held him the way he held her. Maybe more so. Maybe harder and stronger and more desirous of him than he could possibly be of her, but she was honest. Her embrace was true to what she felt, and feeling was everything.

“Easy,” he whispered, and she realized she had sounded some sort of alarm, made some desperate little noise. “You okay?”

She nodded. Laughed a little. God, she was such a woman. She was the one who was scaring him.

“Look at Phoebe,” he said, and she turned toward the back window and laughed with him even though she couldn’t really see anything. Her right eye had gone dark and her left was looking at the top of the seat. “I’m not hurtin’ her, Phoeb. I swear.”

The dog barked.

“Tell her,” he whispered.

“I’m okay, Phoebe.”

The dog jumped out of the box and up on the passenger’s side door.

“Don’t—”

Too late. Sally had already opened the door, and the dog was in her lap.

“Cut it out, Phoeb. I didn’t break her. Down!”

Phoebe sat on the floor and laid her head on Sally’s thigh.

Sally stroked her silky head. “The physician’s assistant’s assistant. We girls look after each other, don’t we, Phoebe?”

“You can tell she’s never been parking.”

“It can be almost as much fun as skinny-dipping.” Sally smiled into the big, round eyes looking up at her from her lap.

“And almost as risky,” Hank said. But he still had his arm around her shoulders, and she loved the way it felt.

“I won’t hurt him either, Phoebe. I swear.”

* * *

Hoolie came out of the bunkhouse to meet them as soon as they parked his truck.

“You had a call from your favorite neighbor,” he told Sally. “Claims a loose horse caused him to run into the ditch. I drove all the way up to his place and back, didn’t see nothin'. No horse, no fence down, nothin'. Did you see anything?”

“We saw horses.” Hank tossed Hoolie his keys. “Nice ride.”

“They’re right where they’re supposed to be,” Sally said.

“Except the high one Damn Tootin’ rode in on. He said he reported the incident to the sheriff. You know what he’s tryin’ to do, don’t you?”

“Drive me to commit murder?”

“Build some kind of a case. You know how he loves to sue people.”

“Good. We’ll kick his ass in court. That might be more fun than murder.”

“Maybe he’s trying to wear you down.” Hoolie planted his hands on his indeterminate hips. “Keep you dancin’ till you drop.”

Sally sighed. “The trouble is he’s got friends in high places.”

“So do you,” Hoolie said. “Maybe not so much around here, but there’s high places all over the country, and they’re full of horse lovers.”

“Good point.” Sally glanced at Hank. “The trouble is, sometimes those high places are too far off. All politics is local.”

“A politician is your friend until he gets a better offer.”

“The trouble is we don’t have any more to offer.”

“I didn’t say more. I said better.” Hoolie folded his arms. “Don’t dance for him. You can put your energy to better use. Not to mention your considerable imagination.”

“Another good point.” She smiled. “Thank you for persisting in making it.”

“No trouble.” He stepped back. “I’ll say good night, then.”

Hank took his keys from his pocket, clicked the remote and whistled for Phoebe.

“Where are you going?” Instantly, Sally wished she could call back the question, or at least the anxious tone.

“Nowhere. Putting Phoebe to bed and getting my stuff.”

“You’re making her sleep in the pickup? Phoebe!” The dog perked her ears, but she stood her master’s ground. “Oh, Hank, she can come in the house with you.”

“You keep your dog in the house?” He sounded surprised. “We go by house rules.”

“Baby has her own corner in the bunkhouse. We have a cat in the house, but she doesn’t believe in dogs. She barely acknowledges people. I’ll bet Phoebe’s used to sleeping with you.”