Home to the Cowboy. Amanda Renee

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Home to the Cowboy - Amanda Renee Mills & Boon American Romance

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material in the course of one week ticked her off. “I’d make the most amazing wife!”

      Tears stung her eyes, but she fought them back. She refused to allow him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Cole took her face in his hands and drew her closer to him. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the kiss that was about to come. A kiss she didn’t think she’d wanted until this very moment.

      The warmth of Cole’s breath on her lips heightened her unexpected desire. “I know, and don’t let anyone say otherwise.”

      He released her, without even a peck on the cheek. Unprepared for the disappointment she felt, Tess retreated to the passenger’s side of the truck. Why was it so easy for men to walk away from her? Slowly, she opened the door, uncertain if it was the gas fumes or anger that made her light-headed. Certainly, it couldn’t be his rejection.

      Cole finished filling the tank and slid into the seat beside her. With his hand on the ignition, he opened his mouth to speak then checked himself before the first words left his lips.

      “If you have something to say to me, I’d appreciate you getting it over with so we can reach this place before lunch,” Tess said.

      “I promised myself I wasn’t going to bring any of this up today,” Cole said.

      “This was your plan all along.” Tess leaned against the headrest. “Confine and confront me.”

      Cole inhaled and exhaled slowly. Tess rolled her head to the side, expecting to see cockiness in need of an attitude adjustment. But when he shifted in his seat to face her, his pained expression puzzled her.

      “You deserve better than this.”

      “And what this are you referring to? Because from where I sit, the list is getting pretty long.”

      “Better than a kiss in a gas station parking lot to show you how I still feel about you,” Cole whispered.

      “What kiss?” Tess asked.

      “This one.” Cole leaned across the seat and tugged her to him. The slight firmness of his lips on hers sent a little tremble through her body, down to her toes. Warmth radiated from his mouth as the kiss deepened until she opened for him, their tongues lightly touching in unison. Cole’s hand rested gently at the base of her throat while she draped her arms around his neck, urging him closer.

      Thoughts swirled around each caress as she lost more of herself to him with each passing moment. Almost two years later, the familiarity of his touch and their last kiss in Vegas returned.

      Dammit! That blasted city ruined everything.

      Tess pushed Cole away, straightened her spine and reached for the seat belt, clicking it across her chest.

      “That can’t happen again.” Her lips still tingled and she fought the urge to run her tongue over them. “It definitely can never happen again.”

      “At least you didn’t haul off and hit me.” Cole laughed.

      He started the engine and headed onto the highway without further conversation. Tess dug into her bag for her sunglasses, allowing a quick glance at him. There it was—that arrogant I got one over on her smirk. She’d give him this one. Well, actually, she’d love to give him another one and another after that.

      What are you thinking?

      This wasn’t going to happen. Tess refused to allow herself to fall in love with Cole again. Not that she’d been in love with him to begin with. She’d had feelings for him at one point, but she was certain those were in the past. If she knew Cole Langtry, she’d bet he was testing her with that kiss, and in that case, she wouldn’t let him win.

      “We’re here.” Cole broke into her thoughts when he turned off the highway. A small green sign with white painted letters read Monkey Junction.

      “Seriously?” Tess giggled. “This place is called Monkey Junction?”

      “Sure is.” Cole laughed. “Since it caters mostly to children, the name suits it. You’ll understand in a minute.”

      There it was, larger than life, the head of a giant two-story sock monkey painted on the side of a hunter-green barn.

      “Oh, my stars!” Tess jumped from the truck the moment it stopped, the shutter of her camera snapping away furiously. “I love it!”

      “Morning, Cole.” A man nodded as he walked past pushing a hand truck full of boxes. He was wearing a green T-shirt with a full-length sock monkey design across the front.

      “Morning, Jeff,” Cole said. “Is Eileen around?”

      “I saw her near the office a minute or two ago.”

      Across the parking lot, they walked past a truck with what had to be a thousand sock monkeys stenciled on it. They really took this monkey thing to heart.

      “There she is.” Cole grabbed Tess’s hand and pulled her in his direction. “Eileen, I want you to meet Tess, longtime friend and the web designer for our facility.”

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Eileen was an attractive woman, in her late fifties with short-cropped dark hair. “Please, feel free to look around if you’d like and don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions.”

      “Thank you,” Tess said. “Do you mind if I take some photos of your place? Oh—hello there.”

      A black Lab mix with short legs nudged her calf, taking her off guard.

      “This is Shorty. He comes and goes around here. Pay no mind to him and feel free to take all the photos you’d like, and Cole, if you happen to see Bingo, tell him I’m looking for him. He took off on that golf cart an hour ago and I haven’t seen him since.”

      “Will do,” Cole said.

      “Why is she so nice if you’re going to be the competition?” Tess asked.

      “When it comes to helping people with disabilities, you can’t have too many facilities, especially since we’re going for our PATH International certifications. Not every place you come across is accredited. Plus it’s a hundred miles between here and Bridle Dance and Eileen and Bingo are more than happy to support us and offer their expertise. They’re good people.”

      “What’s PATH International?” Tess asked.

      “PATH stands for Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship and the Premier Accredited Center certification will allow us to provide the best equine-assisted therapy we possibly can.”

      Tires crunched on the dry dirt parking lot as a faded powder-blue minivan drove up to the wheelchair accessible ramp. Cole left Tess’s side, a huge smile splayed across his face. He strode to the van and slid the door open, revealing a raven-haired beauty of a child with two ponytails tied with pink bows.

      “CC!” Small arms stretched out toward him while Cole bent down to unfasten her seat belt. “I can walk, CC! Watch me!”

      The girl reached beside her seat and pulled out two tiny crutches with forearm supports. When she swung herself around, Tess could see that braces encased

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