loud as she urged the sorrel across the slow moving, shallow water of Sugar Creek. “Give me a break. You can’t tell me you’d rather be out in weather so cold your breath freezes on your lips or so hot that you feel like your brains are baking inside your hat.”
“I’m serious, Cheyenne.” He rode up the bank on the other side of the creek. “I’ve been stuck being a desk jockey for the past eight years and I’m tired of it.”
It wasn’t any of her business nor did she care what he’d been doing for the past thirteen years, but curiosity got the better of her. “What kind of job did you have?”
“I developed software for a bank’s online customers to pay bills and transfer funds from one account to another.”
“You graduated from college.” She couldn’t keep from sounding wistful.
“Yep. I have a degree in software development and computer applications.”
“And you gave up all that to come back here to shovel manure and cut yourself to ribbons stringing barbed wire fence? Are you nuts?”
He grinned. “Put that way, it doesn’t sound real smart, does it?”
Laughing, Cheyenne shook her head. “I’ll bet your mother is very proud of you for earning your degree, but fit to be tied that you won’t be using it. She always wanted you to go to college.” It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t asked about his mother. “By the way, how is she doing?”
His smile faded and stopping his horse at the top of a rise, he gazed out over the herd of sleek black cattle grazing in the shallow valley below. “Mom died about a year after we moved to St. Louis. She never knew that I went to college, let alone graduated.”
“Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She’d always liked Linda Daniels and hated to hear of the woman’s passing. “Had she been ill?”
Cheyenne knew from experience how hard his mother’s death had to have been for Nick. She’d lost her own mother when she was very young and had it not been for the love of her father, she wasn’t sure she would have survived. But Nick hadn’t had anyone to lean on. His mother had never married and it had always been just the two of them.
“Mom knew she didn’t have long to live when we left here,” he said quietly.
“Was that why you went to St. Louis? I think I remember you mentioning that your mother had a cousin there.”
Nick turned to stare at Cheyenne. The sincerity in her blue-green eyes convinced him that she didn’t have a clue why he’d run away in the middle of the night like a coyote with a backside full of buckshot. And that had him wondering just what the good judge had told her about his disappearance the night they were to have been married.
“That’s where we went to live,” he said, turning his attention back to the herd of cattle in the valley below. “But that wasn’t the reason we left here.”
He could tell from her intense stare that she was baffled by his answer, but she didn’t pursue the issue further. Instead she reined her horse toward the path leading down into the meadow. But the gelding balked, then gingerly held his front hoof off the ground as if it might be injured.
“I think we have a problem,” Nick said as they both dismounted to examine the sorrel’s left front leg. Bending down, he gently examined the inside center of the animal’s hoof. “The sole looks swollen.”
“It’s probably a stone bruise.”
Straightening, he nodded. “That would be my guess. Looks like we’ll have to ride double.”
She shook her head as she patted the gelding’s neck. “It’s only a few miles. You go ahead and I’ll walk him back.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He took the reins from her. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to ride back to the house and leave you out here alone with a lame horse.”
“You can go faster without me.” She took a step back. “You said yourself that you have a date tonight and I certainly don’t want to be the cause of you being late.”
Nick stared at her for several long seconds. Had there been a bit of sarcasm in her voice?
He knew he should let it go, but some part of him had to know. “Does it bother you that I might be seeing someone, Cheyenne?”
“Not at all.” Her laughter was as hollow as the old bee tree out behind his barn. “I don’t know why you’d wonder something like that. I gave up caring what you do a long time ago.”
He knew she was lying and for reasons beyond his comprehension, he wanted her to admit the truth. “You never could lie worth a damn, sweetheart.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are.” He stepped forward and putting his arm around her waist, drew her to him. Lowering his voice, he whispered close to her ear. “You don’t like caring, but you do.”
“D-don’t flatter yourself, Nick Daniels. What you do or who you do it with is none of my concern.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
The breathless tone of her voice and the tremor he felt pass through her slender body belied her words and, unable to stop himself, Nick pushed the brim of her ball cap up out of the way and lowered his head. “Let’s just settle the issue here and now.”
Three
When Nick covered her mouth with his, Cheyenne’s heart began to pound like she’d run a marathon and every cell in her body tingled to life. She tried to remain unaffected, tried to fight the heat filling every fiber of her being. She didn’t want to feel anything for him but contempt.
This was the man who had broken her young heart all those years ago, the man who had left her behind without a word or even a backward glance. He’d proven what her father had said about him to be right on the money—there wasn’t anything more to Nick Daniels than a handful of empty promises and a boatload of heartaches. But try as she might, she couldn’t stop the honeyed warmth flowing through her veins or the overwhelming need to kiss him back.
At eighteen, Nick the boy had kissed her with the soft, innocent reverence of youthful love. But as his lips moved over hers now, then urged her to open for him, she found that Nick the man kissed her with a thoroughness that caused her head to spin and made every bone in her body feel as if it had been turned to rubber.
When he tightened his hold and she felt the hard contours of his body pressed to her much softer curves, her pulse throbbed and she gave up all pretense of resisting. His breathtaking exploration of her tender inner recesses stole her breath and wiped out all thought of the past, present or future. At the moment, all she wanted to do was savor the delicious sensations flowing from the top of her head all the way to her curled toes inside her scuffed boots.
With her hands trapped between them, she had to grasp his shirt in order to keep her balance. But the flexing of his rock-hard pectoral muscles beneath the fabric sent her pulse racing and caused her knees to give way completely. Moving his hands from her back to cup her bottom, he positioned
