Whatever the case, Grandma Tammy seemed to enjoy his company. As his presence in the small house increased, Tracy had decided her grandmother would be looked after and she could leave upon completing her online journalism classes. Finally, with her degree in hand, she’d startedlooking for something beyond her newspaper job in Kit Carson. After a few months, she’d landed the position atRancher and Rangesin Colorado Springs. Grandma had offered her the truck but Tracy had refused to take her only transportation. Grandma had given her two thousand dollars and assured her everything would be fine. With her hectic schedule, Tracy hadn’t been back to Wild Horse since she’d left. But was everything fine?
“Should I call her again?” Tracy whispered. No, it was no use. She sighed and decided to pack for the overnight camping trip.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Like I’ve said before, please call first before you drive all the way out to the ranch,” Cash reminded them more politely than he felt. They had wanted to go inside, up to his bedroom, and onto his balcony. He’d turned them down flat. “I’m a rancher running a business here, ladies.”
“Fine, we’ll leave for tonight,” Delilah whined as they stopped beside her truck.
“But we’ll be back,” Desiree promised, clinging to his arm again.
“Call first,” he repeated firmly.
He’d recently told Rusty the same thing and was dead serious about it. He suffered kisses to both jaws, which as usual, sported a day’s growth of beard. Since when did these twins kissing him count as suffering? Since it was Tracy he’d rather have kissing him. He stepped away from the women and turned his back on them. As he walked toward his house, truck doors opened and closed. The engine started but shouts of seeing him again reached his ears. He didn’t look but waved a hand in goodbye over his shoulder.
Out the back door of his house, Cash made his way across the acreage. He checked in with Beau who was closing the store for the day. Jeff and Sam caught up withhim and by the time they were done discussing the upcoming overnight camping trip, the sun had set.
A soft yellow light glowed in the bedroom of Tracy’s cabin. So she had come from Wild Horse. Never in a million years would he have guessed that. The way she’d arrived in that Mustang and with no Western wear, he’d taken her for a city girl. She was well-spoken and well-educated. With Coop she’d been gracious and when it came to owning up about the Dalton Gang, she’d been down-home humble.
Tracy Dalton was a cityanda country girl with class.
Cash liked that about her. What Tracy wasn’t—was pushy, clingy, or needy. She was her own woman. Maybe growing up in such an isolated area of Colorado, she had to be. Reaching her cabin, he noted the Dutch door in the dark living room was still open but decided to knock on the front door. As he raised his fist, he heard a bang and a scream from inside the cabin.
“Tracy?” he called.
“Help!”
Cash jiggled the knob, but it was locked. He leaped off the front porch and sprinted around the side of the cabin. Looking through the Dutch door he saw her as moonlight glowed past him into the room. Tracy wore a sleeveless, white nightgown that was somehow stretched tautly across her full breasts and shapely hips. With terror on her face, she stood as still as a statue. He had no idea what was going on.
“What’s wrong?” Cash asked.
“Something has a hold of me,” Tracy whispered, her eyes like saucers as she gingerly pointed an index finger over her shoulder.
Cash pulled out his cell, leaned into the top half of the door, and turned on the flashlight. Her laptop had fallen off the desk, landed on the wooden chair, and with a bang had pinned her nightgown to it. He couldn’t recall ever having seen a woman so sexy, so vulnerable, and so funny all at the same time in his entire life. Until Tracy Dalton—at this moment.
“Do you think it’s one of the chickens?” he whispered. “I’ve heard they’re dangerous.”
“I guess they could have flown in through the Dutch door when I was in the bedroom.” Tracy’s voice trembled. “Dear God! I’m barefoot.”
“You’re gonna leave Triple C-East missing some toes.”
“Cash, help me!”
Cash hopped over the half door and into the room. He walked to Tracy, reached around behind her, and picked up her laptop. The gown floated back into place, the moonlight twinkled, and the woman fainted.
“Tracy!” Cash caught her with one arm and set her laptop on the desk. Scooping her up, he carried her through the cabin to her bedroom where the lamp on a nightstand covered them in its yellow glow. “Tracy?” he repeated. Her nightgown was sheerer than he’d realized, and he wanted to look down her body. With a will of iron, he didn’t. He patted her ivory cheek. “Tracy, hey, wake up.”
“Hay is for horses!” She sat up in bed and smacked his arm.
Cash tried his best to smother a chuckle but couldn’t and howled with laughter. “If only you could have seen yourself with that big, bad laptop holding you hostage.”
“Oh!” Tracy huffed, but he could tell she was fighting a giggle. Trying her best to frown at him, she gave him a shove and he stood up beside the bed. She scooted off the bed, poked him in the chest, and said, “You’re the only thing big and bad around here, Cash Cooper!”
“Yeah,” he said, growing serious as they stood inches apart, him fully dressed and Tracy in the flimsy gown. “And you’re the only spitfire around here, Tracy Dalton.”
When Tracy stared up at him, Cash cupped his hands to her face. As he lowered his head, he saw her eyes close. When his mouth made contact, he realized something was amiss. It took him a second before he realized she’d sucked her lips between her teeth. He chuckled, raised his head, and let her go.
“Don’t you have a menagerie of redheads waiting for you?” she asked.
