I’m human, Matt.” Human and oh so lonely, deep down. So ready to get out of my own misery and help someone else in need. Like you, Matt. And how crazy is that?
She waited a moment to let her words sink in. Then said, “As are we all.”
It didn’t mean she had to be a fool for a second time.
And especially not with the far too irresistible Matt McCabe.
“Is this a good time?” Matt asked, from the porch of Sara’s Blue Vista Ranch house the following Saturday afternoon.
For you, Matt McCabe, Sara thought, still reeling from the hot, audacious kisses he had delivered the last time they’d seen each other, there will never be a good time. Not ever again.
But not about to let him know how much he had affected her, or how often and passionately she’d thought of him over the last week, she merely looked him up and down.
The reality was, he was the last person she had expected to see standing on her doorstep, given how acrimoniously they had last parted.
But here he was, as mouthwateringly handsome as ever. Looking mighty fine in a blue button-down shirt that made the most of his brawny shoulders and rock-solid abs. New jeans that did equally appetizing things to his long, muscular legs and hips, and shiny brown boots. He’d shaved and showered, too, although his thick, wavy dark brown hair was just as unruly as she’d come to expect. His dark gray-blue eyes just as wryly challenging.
“Depends on why you’re here,” she replied tartly, wishing she were clad in something other than a peach tunic and white yoga pants stained with drool and baby formula. She looked down her nose at him, pausing to make sure he knew just how unwelcome he was. “If it’s to pick up where we left off last week...”
His sensual lips lifted into a tantalizing smile. Excitement lit his eyes. “Kissing you?”
She flushed at the memory of his delicious body pressed against hers, his lips stirring up needs best forgotten. She was a widow, after all. Determined to never make the mistake of turning her heart over to a man again.
Never mind the strong, silent, stubborn type.
“Arguing.”
He chuckled and ran a hand across his jaw. A wicked grin deepened the crinkles around his eyes. “Is that what we were doing?” he drawled, tilting his head.
So she wasn’t the only one who’d been remembering! Huffing in aggravation, Sara folded her arms tightly in front of her. “Let’s just say our discussion made me realize you and I will never be on the same page, McCabe.” And she refused to chase after lost causes, so...
An infant wail went up from somewhere behind her. Sara tensed in distress and lifted a staying hand.
Saved by the baby.
“Hang on a minute.” She rushed off to gather up her son and returned with the red-faced infant in her arms, ready to direct Matt on his way. Instead, she found him looking down at her little boy with surprising interest.
“This Charley?” Matt asked tenderly, taking in her son’s sturdy little body, cherubic features and shock of fine blond hair. The long-lashed eyes that had started out blue and were now more dark green.
Surprised, Sara asked, “You know his name?”
Matt shrugged as he and Charley locked gazes and the infant momentarily stopped crying, then ever so slowly began to smile. “I know a lot of things,” he murmured.
Charley reached for Matt, and when Matt offered his hand, the baby latched on tight to the tall cowboy’s pinky.
In the same soothing tone that would have done a baby wrangler proud, Matt continued, “Including the fact you’ve told everyone to give up on ever getting me involved in the West Texas Warrior Association’s therapy-puppy raising program.”
Sara had indeed put out the word.
Figuring there was no reason to stand in the doorway while they talked, she ushered him in. He shut the door dutifully behind them. “And that bothers you because...?”
Sara perched on the edge of the living room sofa, a little embarrassed by the mess around them. She settled Charley on her lap, while Matt—who still had his hand linked in Charley’s little fist—settled next to them.
Exhaling, the handsome cowboy looked deep into her eyes. “Since you talked to my mom, every member of my family has come out to the Silver Creek to see me.”
Glad to see the indomitable Matt off-kilter for once, Sara grinned. “What’s the matter, cowboy?” she teased, knowing there wasn’t a finer group than Rachel and Frank McCabe and their offspring. “Don’t like family?”
Appearing more besotted than ever of the tall rugged man with the deep, soothing voice, Charley reached up to hold on to Matt with both of his little hands.
Matt grinned down at her son, looking happier than Sara could recall in a long, long time.
Apparently realizing he hadn’t answered her question, Matt let out a long exhalation of breath, then turned his attention back to her once again. “I love ’em,” he said, before adding, “when they’re minding their own business.”
Sara regarded him pensively. She understood that. She had two college-professor parents and five older brothers who’d been in her business for years. Fortunately, all of them were now scattered across the country, busy living their own lives. And though she could have relocated next to any of them after Anthony died, she had chosen to stay on the small ranch where they had hoped to bring up Charley.
Part of that had been because she still considered the rural Texas county where she had grown up home, and hadn’t wanted the stress of finding another job at another veterinary practice and another place to live.
The rest had to do with her not wanting to clue any of them in on the private misery she’d been unable to share with anyone. Least of all those who might have judged her for not being the kind of wife she should have been.
But her own heartache had nothing to do with Matt’s problems now. She settled Charley a little more comfortably on her lap and drew a breath. “I get you have a problem, McCabe, but I don’t see where I come in.”
Charley finally let go of Matt’s finger.
Matt got up and paced over to the fireplace, stood with his back to it, admitting gruffly, “The problem is they’re not going to give up on what they want for me.”
Sara saw where that would be a problem for a man who professed to only want to be left alone. She bit her lip, acutely aware that things were getting way too intimate between them again, way too fast. “What? Can’t kiss them to make them go away?” she quipped.
He let out a belly laugh.
At the low masculine sound, so foreign in Sara’s small cottage-style bungalow, Charley’s brows knit together. He began to cry again, so heartrendingly this time it
