Page 7 of Cowboy Daddy
My jaw clenches so tight it aches. I picture this Derek asshole and imagine my fist meeting his face until he stops breathing. I stay quiet, letting her talk. She needs to get it out.
"I left him six months ago," she continues, voice small. "Packed a bag in the middle of the night while he was out drinking with his buddies. I moved to a new apartment across town. Changed my number. Got a new job at a little bookstore. Thought that was it. But he always finds me. Always. First time he showed up at my work and made a scene. Second time he waited outside my apartment and tried to drag me into his truck. I got away, but barely. The police said it was a domestic issue, like that makes it okay. I ran again. Smaller town this time. He found me in three weeks. Left bruises on my arms where he grabbed me. Told me I belong to him. That I would never get away."
She rubs her arms like she can still feel his hands. Red hot fury burns through me. I want to saddle up right now and ride down the mountain to hunt this bastard. Instead I reach across the table and cover her hands with one of mine. My palm is rough, callused from ropes and reins and years of hard work. Hers is soft. Small. Trembling.
"He won’t find you here," I say, voice low and steady even though every muscle in my body wants to fight. "Timber Creek is different. Haven 7 is different. You’re safe with me, Sunny. I swear it on every damn horse in that barn. No one touches you. No one gets close. Not while I’m breathing."
Her eyes lift to mine. The trust in them hits me like a kick to the chest. "You mean that? Even though I’m basically a stray you found in the snow?"
"I don’t say things I don’t mean." I squeeze her hands gently, fighting the urge to pull her into my lap and wrap myself aroundher until she believes it. "You stay as long as you need. Longer if you want. This cabin has room. I’ve got space in the barn for you to help with the horses if that’s what you like. But you’re done running."
Tears shimmer in her eyes but she blinks them back with a watery little smile that tries to be sunny again. "You’re a good man, Harlan. Grumpy as a bear with a thorn in his paw, but good."
I grunt, but the corner of my mouth twitches. She does that to me. Makes me want to smile even when the world feels heavy. "Finish your coffee. Storm’s picking up again."
We move to the couch after that. The fire I built earlier crackles warm and steady in the stone hearth. Outside the wind howls like it wants to tear the mountain down. Snow lashes the windows in thick white sheets. I sit on one end of the worn leather couch, legs stretched out, arm along the back. Sunny curls up on the other end at first, knees to her chest under one of my thick blankets. But the storm grows louder. A branch cracks outside and she jumps.
"Come here," I say before I can stop myself. My voice is rough, protective. "Closer. I won’t bite."
She hesitates only a second, then scoots over until her side presses against mine. I drape the blanket over both of us and tuck it around her shoulders. She fits against me like she was made for it. Soft curves, warm breath, that sunshine scent of vanilla and wildflowers that cuts through the woodsmoke. My arm drops around her without thinking. She leans into my chest, head on my shoulder, and lets out a shaky sigh.
"Thank you," she whispers. "For feeding me. For listening. For not making me feel like a burden."
"You’re not a burden." My hand rests on her arm, thumb stroking slow circles through the flannel. Every touch feels electric. I have never wanted anyone the way I want her. It’s not just the pull in my body, though that is there, hard and insistent. It is deeper. The need to keep her safe. To make her smile for real. To watch those blue eyes light up every morning over pancakes I cook just for her.
The storm rages harder. Wind screams down the chimney, making the fire dance. Snow piles against the windows until the world outside disappears. Inside it’s just us, warm and close. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest over my shirt. Each touch burns. I shift a little, trying to hide how much she affects me, but she notices.
"Harlan?" Her voice is soft, curious. That quirky romcom lilt is creeping back in. "Do you ever get lonely up here? Just you and the horses and all this quiet?"
I look down at her. Those eyes are inches from mine. Lips parted. Cheeks flushed from the fire or from being this close, I can’t tell. "Used to. Not so much right now."
She smiles, small and real, and it hits me square in the heart. I’ve never felt this before. This pull. This want that goes beyond the physical. I need her safe. I need her here. I need to taste that smile and chase away every shadow Derek left on her.
The power flickers once, then holds. Thunder rumbles distant under the howl of the wind. Sunny snuggles closer, her hand sliding to rest over my heart. It beats hard under her palm. She must feel it. She must know what she’s doing to me.
"Tell me about the horses," she says after a while, voice light again. Trying to bring the sunshine back. "What’s the horse’s name you were riding?"
"Bandit." I relax into the couch, arm tightening around her. "He’s a handful. Smart as hell but skittish after some rough handling before I got him. Reminds me of someone I know."
She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my chest. "Me? Skittish? I prefer spirited."
"Spirited works." My fingers brush her hair back from her face. It’s silky under my rough hand. I linger longer than I should. "You’re safe here, Sunny. Say it back to me."
"I’m safe here," she repeats, eyes locked on mine. The air between us thickens. Charged. On fire. I can feel the want rolling off me in waves. She must sense it too because her breath catches.
I lean down just a fraction. Close enough to feel the warmth of her exhale. Close enough that one small move would close the distance. But I hold back. She’s been through hell. I won’t push. Not yet. Instead I press a kiss to her forehead, slow and deliberate. She melts against me with a tiny sigh that nearly undoes me.
The storm howls on. Hours pass like this. We talk about everything and nothing. She tells me about her favorite books, the ones with happy endings that make her cry happy tears. I tell her about the first horse I ever broke, how it taught me patience is worth more than force. Her laughter fills the cabin when I describe falling off in the mud. My gruff chuckles surprise even me.
Every shift of her body against mine stokes the fire in my veins. I want her. Badly. I imagine peeling that flannel off her shoulders, mapping every inch of her skin with my hands, showing her exactly how a real man treats a woman like her. Protective. Possessive. Worshipful. But I keep it locked down. For now. She needs to feel safe first. The rest will come when she’s ready.
Night falls early because of the storm. The fire burns low. I add another log and settle back with her tucked against my side. Her breathing evens out, but she doesn’t fully sleep. Every so often her fingers flex on my shirt like she’s afraid I will disappear.
"I’ve got you," I murmur into her hair. "Sleep, sunshine. I’m right here."
She nods against my chest. "Harlan?"
"Yeah?"
