Daddy Wore Spurs

She made an indifferent shrug, even though a tangle of emotions was suddenly choking her. “I’m waiting for the right man to come along,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t about to add any more to her explanation. She hardly wanted him, or anyone else for that matter, to know that she’d never gotten over losing the only man she’d ever cared about to another woman. And considering the woman had been her sister, Mariah wasn’t sure she’d ever get over the betrayal.

Slowly, she sensed his presence moving alongside her, and then the faint scent of him drifted to her nostrils. He smelled like a man who’d been bathed in desert wind and kissed by hot sunshine, and for one brief moment she wondered what it would be like to press her nose against his throat, to breathe in that evocative scent. To let herself forget that he’d once been Aimee’s lover.

He said, “You must be waiting for Mr. Perfect.”

The huskiness of his voice was such a sensual sound it caused goose bumps to form on the backs of her arms.

“That’s none of your business,” she said.

“Probably not. But I’m a curious kind of guy. I’ve been trying to figure out how a woman who looks like you is living out here alone—without a man to care for her. Protect her.”

And make love to her. Mariah could hear the unspoken words in his voice as clearly as she could hear Harry’s soft breathing behind them.

The fragile grip she had on her senses was coming close to snapping. “Aimee was always the one who wanted a man in her life. Not me.”

“That could change—if you met a man you couldn’t live without.”

Everything inside Mariah had quickly gone hot and shaky. And she wondered wildly how he would react if she suddenly turned and placed her palms against his chest. If she were to tilt her face up to his, would he want to kiss her? Oh my. Oh my. Why were these crazy, wicked thoughts going through her head? Why was he making her forget that she was a practical woman?

“I’m just trying to survive, Finn. I’m not foolish enough to believe a knight will come riding through here on a big white horse and make all my troubles go away.”

A wry grin tugged at his lips. “He might come riding through here on a big brown mustang. Ever think that might happen?”

Her laugh was short and caustic. “If that ever happened I’d run him off with a loaded shotgun. Once these last ten are gone, I never want to see another mustang. If it hadn’t been for the wild horses I might have persuaded Aimee to get out of the business before we went broke. But she was obsessed with the damned things. And now—”

As her words trailed away, his hand wrapped gently around her upper arm, and the touch splintered her resolve to remain indifferent to him. Heat from his fingers was rushing to her cheeks, then plunging downward, showering her whole body with sparks.

“You’re blaming the wrong thing for your troubles, Mariah. At one point, those horses were running free, caring for themselves. They didn’t ask to be captured and confined.”

Mariah’s chin dropped against her chest. She sounded like a pouting child, blaming her problems on everything and everyone but herself. But grief, worry, anger and resentment had been playing with her emotions for so long now. And for just as long, she’d been trying to hide her emotions, to pretend that she was strong and unaffected. And now something about Finn was pulling her feelings right out in the open.

“Sorry. I’ll admit my thinking is twisted. But Aimee refused to consider any other job. With her it was the horses or nothing. And that’s where the ranch was headed—with nothing.”

The subtle tightening of his fingers on her arm had her lifting her face up to his, and as her gaze probed the depths of his blue eyes, her heart thumped so hard she could feel it banging against her ribs.

“Look, Mariah, horses can get into a person’s blood. Caring for them, working with them, loving them. It becomes sort of an addiction. One that’s impossible to shake. Even when you know they’re costing too much money or taking you down a wrong path.”

“So you’re saying your job has to involve horses or you wouldn’t be happy?”

“I’d be miserable without horses around me.”

Disappointment washed through her. Which was ridiculous. Finn’s dreams and desires had nothing to do with her. Except where Harry was concerned. She didn’t want the child to have a father like hers, who’d spent every weekend at horse shows and every waking minute of the day at the training barn.

“You and Aimee would have made a perfect pair,” she said stiffly.

His gaze rambled over her face. “It takes more than a shared love of something to make a perfect partnership. The fact that Aimee wasn’t interested in building a relationship with me proves that much.”

She grimaced. “As far as men go, Aimee didn’t know what she wanted.”

“Thanks,” he said with sarcasm.

Her gaze connected with his and Mariah’s heart gave a hard thump. “Tell me, Finn, if you’d known about Aimee’s pregnancy would you have married her?”

His expression didn’t flinch, or his gaze break away from hers. “That’s hard to say. Aimee might not have wanted marriage. And as it is, I’m not sure I would’ve wanted it, either. When I do marry I want it to be for love, not out of obligation.”

“So you weren’t in love with my sister?”

“There wasn’t enough time for that. But who knows, if Aimee had given us a chance, we might’ve fallen in love and gotten married.”

Hearing this sexy cowboy talk about loving and marrying Aimee bothered her in more ways than she cared to admit. Maybe because she’d never had a rugged man like him give her a second glance. Not as long as Aimee had been around to monopolize all the male attention.

“Then you’d be my brother-in-law right now. And a widower.”

“Yeah.”

Mariah was so busy trying to read the emotions in his eyes that long moments passed before she realized the room had gone quiet and Finn’s hand was still wrapped around her arm.

Move, Mariah. Step away from him before his touch begins to feel too good to resist. Before your dreams start down a very foolish path.

“I—please—excuse me, Finn. I have to go.”

Before she could let herself weaken, before he could guess the longing on her face, Mariah pulled away from him and raced out of the nursery. She didn’t stop until she was inside her bedroom with the door shut firmly behind her. And by then she was trembling from head to toe.

With her shoulders slumped against the door, she covered her hot face with both hands and sucked in several deep breaths. She’d been through too much to let herself break down now. She needed to show Finn that she was a strong, capable woman. More than that, she needed to convince herself that he was a man she couldn’t fall in love with.

Chapter Three (#ud2b2b476-95c9-55cf-98fd-e110df79ef4d)

Finn sat at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a mug of half-burned coffee, as he tried to decide what to do next. He’d been sitting there for more than half an hour, waiting for Mariah to show her face again. Since she’d run from the nursery, he hadn’t heard her stirring, and he was starting to wonder whether he should search her out and apologize, or tell her he was leaving for town.

Neither option appealed to him. He wasn’t ready to leave the ranch just yet. Not until the two of them had made definite plans concerning Harry. And he hadn’t done anything he needed to apologize for—except maybe make her face the reality of Harry’s being a Calhoun.

Rising from the table, he walked over to a set of double windows and studied the view behind the house. From this spot, he could just make out a corner of one large barn, a smaller shed and a maze of connecting corrals. Except for a few birds and the wind twisting the leaves, nothing was moving. It was a sad and lonely sight, he thought grimly.

“I see you’ve helped yourself to the coffee. I’m glad. I haven’t been a very good hostess.”

He hadn’t heard her enter the room, and the sound of her voice had him quickly turning to see her walking toward him. While she’d been in her room, she’d put on a pair of faded red cowboy boots and released her hair from its ponytail. Now the long black waves framed her face and rested on her shoulders. Her nose looked as though she’d patted it with a powder puff, while a sheen of pink glossed her lips. She looked sweet and sexy and totally unassuming. And as Finn stared at her, he felt a strange sensation slowing coursing through him. Was this how it felt to be mesmerized by a woman?

“I dug into your brownies, too,” he told her. “They’re good. Did you make them?”

A faint smile touched her lips. It was the first one that Finn had seen on her face and the sight encouraged him. Maybe the short break from him and the baby had put her in a better mood.

“Thanks. I like to bake and cook. Now that Cora is gone I get to do plenty of it.”

“I’ve been listening for Harry. Does he usually cry when he wakes up?”

“Depends if he’s wet or hungry. Most of the time he’s a happy baby. I’ll find him wide-awake just cooing and looking around.” She walked over to the cabinet and dumped the last of the syrupy black coffee into the sink. “We had an intercom system put in after Harry was born. It was rather expensive. But I can go anywhere in the house or out on the porches and still be able to hear every little sound he makes.”