It was all she could do not to pull him back when he broke the kiss. The only thing stopping her was the brazen male hunger consuming his eyes. His breath came in pants, even as he shifted her from his lap. It thrilled her that she wasn’t the only one affected.
She followed his lead, allowing him to put distance between them. Her mind spun as she tried to pull herself into the reality of where they were.
“Trace, you know I can’t stay. We can’t do things like that, no matter how much you…we… want to.” She had no way to camouflage the words as anything but the breathless plea it was.
That quickly, all hints of desire slid from his face, replaced by determination. His chin firmed. “Leave? You think after a kiss like that, I’m going to allow you to leave? I don’t know what you’re running from, little fox. But one day, and it will be soon, you’ll tell me. Then I can fix it and we can pursue the relationship we both want.”
His eyes dared her to deny it. She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t lie. She wanted to be with him more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. But he had no idea who was after her. If he did, he’d kick her off his ranch and never speak to her again.
She wouldn’t blame him. But, God, it would hurt. That was why she had to leave. Summoning her courage, she started to tell Trace everything. “The kiss was incredible, but I still have to leave because?—"
“We’re back!” Kenzie called out. Her eye bobbed between Kip and Trace. With a sly smile, she spoke with false innocence. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
Giggling, the girls crawled back under the table, making more noise by shushing each other every time Ruby’s boots creaked overhead.
What followed could only be described as ten minutes of chaos. They were so caught up in their play that they didn’t even notice how quiet she was. Trace’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He crawled out, read the screen, and thumbed it to read Chance’s text.
Trace exhaled. “Shit.” He ducked back under the table, cupped Kip’s cheek, and dropped a quick, firm kiss to her lips—warm, grounding,mine. “Hold the fort, Captain Kip. I’ll be back for debrief as soon as I can.”
The girls watched him go, then turned to Kip with identical mischief.
“New mission!” Joy declared. “Nametags for the Christmas baskets!”
They scrambled out, blankets sliding into a heap. Tildi fetched her glitter glue, Kenzie her sticker collection, Joy her label maker, which wentka-chunklike a tiny typewriter. Under the table’s soft glow, they sprawled on their bellies, tongues out in concentration.
Before long, Kip was in the middle of the friends she had longed for all her life. And wished with all her heart she wasn’t there. Everything here was too perfect to leave. A moment of sadness tore through her heart. The afternoon had been perfect. Perfect town. Perfect friends. And most of all, perfect Daddy. That was the problem. The life she’d dreamed of was within her grasp, and she couldn’t have it because, regardless of how much she would love it…love them…love him…Kip had to leave all of them behind.
CHAPTER 5
Daisy, a tall, lean sorrel quarter horse Trace had delivered two springs earlier, stood on three legs, her tail clamped, sweat darkening her neck in uneven streaks. Her belly looked tight as a drum, but impaction colic would do that.
He’d noticed it late the day before and had been watching her. Rusty and Bart, two of the men who worked on the ranch, had taken turns helping him walk her through the night. He thought she was improving, but apparently not.
“Third stall on the right,” Boone called out as Trace entered without looking up. Having a sixth sense about things and eyes in the back of his head had kept Boone and his soldiers alive on covert missions for years, but as a younger brother, Trace had found it inconvenient. Tanner even more so.
Trace dropped beside Chance, palm flat against the mare’s flank. “How long has it been this bad?”
“Hour, maybe less. Started pawing after lunch. The kicking started about an hour ago. Gave her a half-dose of Banamine twenty minutes ago, but it didn’t help.” Chance’s voice was calm,but his knuckles were white on the lead rope. With a smirk, he added, “Sorry to pull you away from your blanket fort.”
Trace had been the middle child… by only minutes, but Tanner claimed younger twin privileges…too long to rise to the bait. “That’s blanket bunker, and Joy was having a great time.” Chance’s face softened at the mention of his Little girl’s name. “Don’t ever hesitate to call me when the animals are in trouble. That’s why I busted my ass to earn that veterinary degree. Javi, can you grab my stethoscope?”
Daisy gave a pained whinny, and Trace cleared his mind of everything else. Without wasting any more time, Trace’s fingers moved in practiced circles along Daisy’s belly. Her gut sounds were sluggish on the left and nonexistent on the right.
He glanced up at Chance. “Impaction or twist. Either way, we’re not waiting. Is Rusty in the yard?”
“Sent Bart for him. Javi is pulling the trailer.” Chance’s eyes flicked to the mare’s dilated nostrils. “Tube or surgery?”
“Tube first. If she doesn’t unload in thirty, we’ll haul to the clinic.” Trace stood, stripping off his jacket. “Walk her. Slow circles. Keep her head up.”
Chance reached for her lead, but Boone got there first. He took over, keeping Daisy moving in slow, steady circles, the lead rope loose in his calloused hand. After a few rounds, Trace knelt in the straw, stethoscope pressed to Daisy’s flank, listening for the gurgle that would tell him the tube was doing its job. The barn was quiet except for the mare’s soft snorts and the rhythmicshush-shushof Boone’s boots as he resumed walking.
“Got a call from Griff this morning,” Boone said, voice pitched low so it wouldn’t spook the horse. “He’s been looking into the stranger from The Broken Bridle. The man rode in two days ago. Name’s Wesley Zhou. He’s from a spread outside Lubbock.” Boone paused so Trace could check Daisy and added, “But Griff’s nose twitched.”
Trace didn’t look up, still listening to Daisy’s belly. “Twitched how?”
“The guy’s got a twelve hundred dollar hat still creased from the box. His starched Wranglers are new enough to still have the sticker on the butt. Fancy boots so new they squeak. Hell, he’s probably got spurs on the dashboard of his rental truck... everything reads cowboy to other tourists.”
“Drugstore cowboy. Yeah, I already knew that. Everyone in town did. So, what made Griff twitch?”
