Keeping Kayla: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 4) Read online

  She whistled for Bando, knowing her border collie would abandon his romp in the nearby grassy field. She could only hope the lab mix would come with him. The lab had been cautious around Kayla but had taken to Bando immediately, following him around with an adoring look on her face.

  Kayla recognized the happy-go-lucky personality beneath the caution. She'd spent years working with the city obedience club while Sarah had been in vet school. The lab mix had no training but was curious and intelligent.

  Kayla pulled the barn door open with more force than was necessary, but she stopped short when confronted with Nate himself, who was several yards inside the building. He wore a red-and-black flannel shirt that brought out the bright blue of his eyes, Wranglers that were perfectly worn in, and of course his boots and Stetson.

  "What are you doing here?" The words came out demanding, covering the shock and surprise of seeing him. Her memories of their time together were too raw, too close to the surface for politeness.

  He strode over to her, put an arm around her waist, and kissed her cheek before she had time to react.

  She jerked away from him, her head knocking his Stetson back on his forehead. Bando rushed in, jumping around his feet and barking joyously. The lab hung back in the doorway, tongue lolling but watchful.

  Nate laughed at Bando's antics, the sound deep and warm. "At least someone's happy to see me." He knelt and gave the dog a good rubdown. Bando rewarded his effort by lying flat out on his back, begging for a belly rub. Nate complied but slanted a glance up at her. "If you jump away from me like that, Rachel and Miles will know something's not right."

  She swallowed hard. She'd known that if they were going to pull off this farce she would have to be in close proximity to Nate, but she hadn't considered touching.

  "Don't kiss me," she said. She wiped at her cheek as if she could erase the feeling of his lips there.

  It didn't work.

  She felt as if he'd branded her, left a remnant of his touch behind.

  He raised one pointed eyebrow at her. "I make no guarantees."

  She didn't want to think about what that meant, so she shot a pointed question right back at him. "What are you doing out here?"

  He stood, and Bando wandered off and the black lab followed, sniffling and snuffling her way through the nooks and crannies of the barn.

  "I was trying to picture how you're going to do it,” Nate said as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “I'd heard about your dog rescue before yesterday. I guess you've already started with these"—he motioned to the dogs—"plus the puppies."

  "Bando is mine. And these other guys just came along..." She didn't want to think about the fact that he'd been listening to town gossip about her. "But I'm not anywhere near operational yet."

  It'd taken nearly all of what she'd scrimped and saved to purchase the property. She was looking into grants to see if she could get the capital she needed to get things into working order. She'd had a plan that included living in the tiny city apartment for another two years, socking away money from her daytime job as a bank teller supervisor and her nighttime waiting tables, but Sarah had moved back to Taylor Hills. Kayla's other roommate had been fine, but she'd missed her sister, the only family she had in the world.

  And when the property came up for sale, it had seemed like a sign from God that she should do it.

  Now she was struggling to know where to go from here. Not that she'd admit that to Nate.

  "I plan to have a large open area where the dogs can have some freedom to move around and several runs on each side of the barn. I've already started tearing out some of the stalls."

  "I can see that." He walked over to where she'd taken a sledgehammer to one of the wooden partitions on a day she'd particularly needed to work off some steam. He toed the part of the partition that was still attached to the barn wall. "Did you know you've got some rot in the wood? Probably termite damage, but you'd need someone to verify that for you. Might want to have someone come out and check the house, too."

  She hadn't known, and his words threw a bucket of cold water on the pride that had straightened her shoulders.

  "I was getting around to that." She'd experienced some prideful thoughts about her own strength when the old wood had splintered and crumbled beneath her sledgehammer.

  "You're asking for trouble if you don't get the beams and joists looked at. If you're lucky, maybe you'll only have to replace part of the walls."

  She couldn't afford to replace any. But did Nate know about that kind of thing? Maybe he was wrong.

  The sound of a car engine offered a reprieve from the panic swirling through her gut, though it prompted a new sort of anxiety. What if Miles didn't like it here? Didn't like her?

  Her feet stalled on the packed dirt barn floor. Was this another mistake? Was her impulsiveness going to get her into trouble all over again?

  It was too late to back out, because Nate was at her side, his hand warm at her lower back as he ushered her out into the cool sunshine to meet her new foster son.

  Nate could feel Kayla's tension even without touching her. Maybe he should've waited for a better time to bring up the sorry state of her barn, but the damage was done now. He'd help her with the needed repairs, if she'd let him.

  The social worker was standing beside her car, neat as a pin again in a navy-blue skirt suit this time. The boy beside her had his arms crossed and shoulders hunched. He wore a scowl. His jeans were old and faded, and the jean jacket he wore was ripped. One elbow had a hole in it, it was at least a size too small. He had a bruise along one cheekbone, as if he'd been in a brawl recently.

  This was the Miles that Kayla wanted to foster?

  Yesterday when she'd claimed he wouldn't understand her reasons for wanting to help the boy, he'd wanted to fire back that he was plenty smart enough to understand if she'd tell him.

  But he'd known that letting his temper fly wouldn't solve anything. And maybe this whole situation was the burr under his saddle that he needed to make a change. He'd let things slide for way too long, thinking he had all the time in the world to make things right between them. Now it was time to claim what he wanted. And what he wanted was Kayla.

  Who apparently wanted this little thug in her home.

  "Hi, Miles." Her greeting was soft and welcoming, and Nate had a moment of fleeting jealousy. She certainly hadn't greeting him so warmly.

  She got nothing in return until Rachel nudged the boy with her elbow. Even then, the boy offered no more than a mumble, which Nate couldn't make out.

  "Have you eaten breakfast?" Kayla asked.

  Miles stared sullenly at the ground. Yeah, real winner, this kid.

  "We hit the drive-thru on our way out," Rachel said a little too brightly.

  The whole conversation was starting to make Nate feel uncomfortable. And a little useless. "You got any bags for me to carry inside?"

  Kayla stepped on his toe, maybe on purpose. What was that for?

  But the social worker was shaking her head.

  Now Miles finally looked up, but it was to glare at Nate. What was the kid's problem?

  "He probably doesn't have much," Kayla whispered.

  Oh. Well, it wouldn't be the first time Nate had put his foot in his mouth.

  "The Chihuahua is in the kitchen with her puppies,” Kayla said. “I haven't named her yet."

  This statement caused a very subtle shift in the boy's expression, a tiny candle flame lit behind his eyes. But he still didn't say anything.

  "You can go in and see her if you want." Kayla’s voice was tender and, somehow, relaxed.

  The boy shrugged, but he did stomp off up the porch steps and into the house. Nate hoped Kayla had locked up any valuables.

  Nate watched him go as Kayla and Rachel exchanged a few more words. The social worker got in her car and backed down the driveway. So that was that.

  Nate was unprepared when Kayla whirled on him. " You couldn't just keep your trap shut? Miles doesn't n
eed any more reminders of his situation."

  "Whoa." He raised both hands like the victim in a holdup. "I'm not the bad guy here. I didn't realize it was going to be a hot button for him." Or for you.

  In high school, he'd been a year ahead. He'd known she and Sarah had lived in the county group home, but he'd been so self-absorbed that he hadn't really thought about what that meant. What had it been like for her to not have a single possession to her name? He couldn't fathom it.

  Her eyes flashed as if she'd heard his thoughts, but he quickly went on.

  "What other things I am not supposed to ask about? It's not like I've had a primer in foster kids, you know."

  Rachel had mentioned something about classes they'd have to take if they wanted to make the fostering a permanent thing, but he hadn't given that much thought yet. He was just trying to get through today's land mines.

  But Kayla... Kayla knew, from her own childhood. And maybe he'd just hit the tip of the iceberg in hers and Miles's reaction to his innocent question. He wanted to know more.

  Kayla was staring at him like she didn't know him at all. He'd wanted a chance to prove he wasn't that nineteen-year-old kid who'd hurt her and lost the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now he'd gotten it.

  "You're not getting rid of me," he reminded her quietly. "And I want to help with—with Miles." He'd almost said the kid. That wouldn't have helped his case any.

  She looked at the house. "A lot of foster kids have abandonment issues."

  Abandonment issues. She'd been the one to walk away from him, but had she felt like he’d abandoned her?

  She wasn't looking at him, but pink crept into her cheeks.

  "I don't know what happened to his parents, but Rachel said Miles was living with an uncle who passed away. He's probably got trust issues. Maybe even trauma. Some kids need counseling."

  Trauma. Like abuse? "Were you ever—?"

  Her eyes darted to him and away. She shook her head slightly. "No. I never—" She shrugged, and her body language shifted as her shoulders came up. She closed him off.

  "You won't know what his buttons are until you push one of them. Sometimes you'll repeat something that wasn't an issue before, but the second time around he's thinking of the family he's lost and it just hurts. He'll react in anger, because it's too scary to show that he's frightened—"

  She stopped suddenly, maybe realizing she'd said too much.

  He wanted to reach for her. Wanted it so badly, but he knew he hadn't earned her trust.

  So he only nodded and followed her into the house.

  Kayla stepped inside, aware of Nate following close behind. She'd said too much. She didn't like the assessing look she'd seen in his eyes.

  She didn't need his pity, didn't want it. Her childhood had sucked, but it was over. There was no use lingering on the past.

  Miles. He was the important one right now.

  She found him in the kitchen, cross-legged on the floor with Bando sprawled across his lap, the dog panting happily. He hadn't gotten too close to the Chihuahua, and she watched cautiously from her basket.

  It was Miles's open, happy expression that stopped her in her tracks.

  He looked up and registered her standing in the doorway, and the joyful expression disappeared instantly. A scowl replaced it, and he nudged Bando off his lap. His eyes skipped away from her as he stood and pushed his hand into his pockets.

  Bando approached, waggling all over. She bent to give the dog a rubdown. He kicked one back leg against the floor when she hit a ticklish spot on his side.

  "Are you so excited to have someone new to love on you?" she spoke to the dog in a baby voice. "Sure you are."

  When she straightened, the cowboy was looking at her with one raised eyebrow, and Miles was just plain staring.

  Her cheeks flushed slightly. "He can understand me."

  Nate's eyebrow hiked even higher, but he didn't say anything.

  "You can pet Bando or his new friend any time you want," she told Miles. "But be careful around our mama. She's pretty protective of her pups, and she hasn't warmed up to me yet."

  Miles shrugged, his gaze cutting to the side. "They're just dumb dogs," he mumbled.

  She might've believed him, if she hadn't seen him loving on Bando moments ago.

  Nate sighed.

  But she knew this tactic too. Pretend nothing mattered. If your foster mom knew something was important to you, it could become leverage, or it could be taken away.

  "You want to go check out your room? It's the same one as before, but I got a few new things..."

  He shrugged, but she turned toward his bedroom and heard him obediently trudging down the hall behind her. Nate brought up the rear. She'd kind of expected him to return to the Triple H by now. She knew being foreman was a big job. Didn't he have things to do?

  She paused in the hallway just outside the bedroom door, letting Miles go in ahead of her. She was too aware of Nate at her back, watching everything over her shoulder.

  When Miles had stayed overnight the night she'd found him in her barn, she'd had only a mattress—not even a frame or box spring—with mismatched sheets and a pancake of a pillow that had followed her around for years. The walls had been bare. After all, she'd planned to sink any funds she could scrounge up into the rescue. Until Miles.

  Yesterday, she'd driven almost an hour to the nearest big box discount store and spent precious money on a simple black bedframe and box spring, a plain navy comforter and sheet set, and two posters of MLB players. She didn't know whether he liked baseball or not, but he was a ten-year-old boy. It was a decent guess.

  A chest of drawers and a small desk and chair for him to do his homework completed the room. Simple navy curtains framed the window that had been bare before.

  He slowly rounded the bed, letting his hand drag across the comforter. He stopped to look out the window, which had a good view across the yard to the barn and the fields behind. It'd been dark before when she'd brought him in and when he'd tried to sneak out the next morning. This was probably the first time he was seeing the view from the window.

  "Do you like it?" she asked

  "It's fine." He set his backpack on the end of the bed.

  "I think you mean, 'thank you,'" Nate said behind her.

  Miles's head snapped up, a hard light entering his eyes.

  She didn't have to glance over her shoulder to know Nate was leveling a stare at the boy.

  Miles stared right back.

  She turned to face Nate, drawing up short because he was right there. She put her palm against his chest, intending to nudge him back into the hall, but she got a shock of attraction, like static electricity.

  He felt it too, because his surprised gaze shifted down to her.

  She jerked her hand away, squeezing and releasing her fingers in a fist, trying to rid herself of the unsettling feeling.

  With an effort, she dragged her thoughts back to the issue at hand. "He doesn't need to thank me," she said. She hadn't done any of it for a thank you.

  A muscle twitched in Nate's cheek. "We'll have rules in our house. One of the rules will be basic politeness."

  Rules. A logical part of her brain said Nate was right, but another part, a place buried deep inside, landed on a long-ago memory of rules and punishment for taking a snack to fill her empty, grumbling belly.

  She had to work to get her jaw unclamped. "There's a time and place for all of that," she said quietly. "Let's just settle in for today. Maybe for a few days."

  He opened his mouth, and she knew he would argue, but she wasn't bending on this. "Shouldn't you get back to the Triple H?"

  Something passed over his expression before he hid it behind that carefully crafted blankness. Hurt, maybe?

  She hated that he could hide like that.

  "I took a few days off."

  "But—it's calving season."

  He cracked a smile at that, but it didn't reach all the way to his eyes. "As much as I appreciate
you keeping up with my job…"

  That hadn't been what she'd meant at all.

  "…it's important for me to be here. My boss understood and gave me the time off. If there's an emergency, I'm close enough to lend a hand."

  It's important for me to be here. Why did those words both excite and scare her?

  "Fine," she bit out. "But let's table the politeness discussion for later.” She called over her shoulder, “I'll make some turkey sandwiches for lunch." She hoped Miles would know to come to the kitchen in a bit.

  She moved past Nate in the hallway, trying not to feel the spark of attraction as their shoulders brushed, trying to ignore the confusing emotions he engendered.

  Unfortunately, the memory of the intensity of his words didn't leave her all afternoon.

  It's important for me to be here.

  What did that mean?

  The afternoon was waning as Nate strode through Kayla's front hall, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

  He passed Kayla and Miles in the kitchen and didn't miss the glare she shot him or her awareness of his bag. He didn't much care. If they were going to make this marriage look real, he couldn't sleep at the Triple H.

  Although it would be a relief to escape the tension that hovered like a black cloud. Kayla had spent the afternoon avoiding him. Miles had mostly kept to his bedroom. Which left Nate at loose ends, something foreign to him. He'd spent more time in her barn, pinpointing where the worst of the termite damage was.

  It wasn't as if Nate had meant to step on their hot buttons. He felt like an idiot, not knowing that Kayla had so many issues left over from her rotten childhood. And having Miles here seemed to amplify her emotions in some way.

  But he was a stubborn guy. He wasn't giving up.

  He returned to the kitchen, where Miles sat staring at the empty table's surface. Kayla was doing something—he wasn't sure it could be called cooking—on the stove. The scent of something overcooked and inedible emanated from the trashcan in the far corner. His nose twitched.

  The border collie laid beneath the table, head on its paws but clearly watching to see if Kayla was going to drop anything. The Lab paced around and sometimes between her feet. The Chihuahua was still in its corner box.