Hard-Riding Cowboy (Kinky Spurs #3) Page 7

  Now, he felt different.

  The longtime fight between their fathers had hurt Megan. Nash didn’t like that. In fact, he fucking hated that.

  The mattress dipped. Nash lifted his head to find Gus plopping himself down on the edge of the bed, his head resting on Megan’s waist as she lay on her side. Nash smiled and stroked Gus’s head. Yeah, he liked Megan too. Though a part of Nash, a warm undiscovered part, wondered if Gus was a little more protective because Megan was carrying Nash’s child. A new member of his and Gus’s pack.

  “You really let him sleep on the bed with you?” Megan asked, drawing Nash’s attention to her now open eyes.

  He snorted. “Have you met Gus? He’s one hundred pounds of stubborn fur. I don’t think let is in his vocabulary.”

  She laughed, her hands still beneath her cheek. “I take it that means you’ve tried to kick him off and failed.”

  “The fact that I have a king-size bed and live alone should answer that question.”

  She turned onto her back then, and Gus gave a long deep sigh when she started petting his head. “You know, I’ve never heard the story about where you got him.”

  Nash smiled and turned on his side, facing her. “He got into my truck one day.”

  Her hand froze on Gus’s head. “Seriously?”

  Nash nodded. “I went over to Dalton’s place”—the lead singer in the Kinky Spurs band—“and his dog had puppies. Gus jumped into my truck, so Dalton said it was a sign, and that was that.”

  “How sweet is that?” She squeezed Gus’s face. “He picked you.”

  A sudden surge of emotion tightened Nash’s chest, and he pushed past the desire to shut down. Yeah, that was his thing, but it would get him nowhere with Megan. “Maybe he knew I needed someone then.”

  Megan turned to him, her eyes wide with surprise, obviously at his sharing. “Dogs seem to have an intuition about that kind of stuff, don’t they?”

  He nodded.

  Silence descended as she began stroking Gus’s head again, a sweet smile on her face. He often wondered what it was like to a have a serious relationship. He tended to like his relationships in the one-night variety, especially since his attention had always been on Megan. Since she hadn’t had a long-term relationship either, he assumed she felt the same. But he realized he liked this. Christ, he could even see himself walking up to her every day and sharing things with her.

  Shit, she was making him soft.

  Fuck, he liked that too.

  To get his mind on other things, he followed her hand stroking a sleeping Gus with his gaze. There was a ring on the ring finger of her right hand. Halfway to another soft stroke on Gus’s head, Nash took her hand in his and dragged his fingers across the vintage ring with an oval diamond encased in smaller diamonds. “You’ve had this ring for a long time.” He remembered she wore it all through high school. In fact, he’d never seen her without it. “I take it that it’s special to you.”

  “It’s my grandmother’s wedding ring.” Her voice was soft, thick with obvious emotion. “She left it to me when she passed away.”

  “Were you two close?” Damn. He should know this about her.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Incredibly close. Do you have anyone like that? You know, that you’re just closer to than anyone else?”

  You crossed his mind. “You know us Blackshaws,” he answered, “we’re a close bunch.”

  “You’ve got a special family.”

  He nodded and waited for her to take the lead on the conversation, wanting to hear all the things on her mind.

  Gus began snoring when she lifted her hand and examined the ring. “They were so in love.”

  “Your grandparents?” he asked.

  “Yup. They had that special kind of love, you know. Real love. Honest love. The type of love that takes your breath away.” She laughed softly then turned her head. Nash’s chest warmed under the sweetness in her expression, as she added, “Those were Grams’s words, not mine.”

  “Why your Grams’s words? You don’t believe in that kind of love?”

  She looked back at the ring. “I think what they had was rare. It’s not even a love my parents have, and they are happily married. But what my grandparents had . . . the way they cared for each other . . . the life they shared, living with respect and adoration . . . the way they looked at each other . . .” She turned to him then, and the way you’re looking at me now filled the air between them. “It’s all a beautiful thought, but I’m a realist and know easy love like that doesn’t happen very often.”

  “That’s a depressing way to look at it.” He frowned.

  She gave him a hard stare. “Is there really any other way to look at it?”

  Her words hit him right in the chest. He did this to her. When it came to them, affection wasn’t easy. Family. Land. Loyalty. All of that stood in their way.

  When he didn’t answer, feeling like if he said anything now he would get it all wrong, she filled the heavy silence. “This ring reminds me of what love should be. Of what love can be.”

  Nash stared at Megan, seeing her through new eyes. He liked a lot about Megan, but what he had discovered recently was that her emotional steadiness was incredible. She saw the possibility of love and peace in what had been a sea of anger. “You’re a good woman, Megan.”

  The smile she aimed his way stole his breath. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” He slowly sprawled his hand on her slightly round belly. The move felt possessive, even to him. A statement he wanted to make so damn bad. “Those stories of your grandparents. That hope. Our baby is going to be very lucky to learn from you.”

  Emotion filled her eyes before she glanced at his hand on her belly. When those eyes returned to him again, tears welled. He lost himself in all that lay between them for a few loaded seconds. Moments that changed him. Because when this all began, he simply wanted the woman who made it a game for him to have her. Then came the duty to see if they could make a go of it because it had been the right thing to do. Now he wanted her. Like this. More importantly, he began to feel something he had not felt since his injury darkened his days. A purpose greater than himself—making her happy.

  Whatever she saw crossing his expression made her slowly slide out of bed.

  “Got somewhere to be?” he asked.

  She gave a tight smile. “Baby steps, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember you mentioned that before,” he said, watching her bend over. She reached for her panties, giving him a fine view of her ass. He understood why she wanted to keep a safe distance, but he was done with the games. When she moved to kiss him goodnight, he gathered her in his arms and flipped her back onto the bed beneath him.

  She stared up at him in surprise, those unique eyes of hers trapping him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Not letting you run. “Enjoying myself.” He opened her shorts and snuck his hand in to tease her sensitive flesh.

  “Nash,” she gasped, arching into him.

  “Still thinking about leaving?” he murmured.

  “Don’t stop,” she breathed.

  He yanked her shorts off and widened her thighs, and before dropping his head, he said, “Whatever you want, Megan. Whenever you want it.”

  * * *

  An hour before sunrise, a loud bark jolted Nash awake. Megan had left before he drifted off, heading home to her own bed. Feeling like he’d drank himself into a coma, he blinked twice, forcing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moonlight coming through the window revealed Gus sitting at the side of bed staring at him. Nash shut his eyes again. It had taken him a good hour to fall asleep with so much on his mind. He wanted Megan there with him. His bed felt oddly empty now. Baby steps, she had said. He wasn’t really the take-it-slow kinda guy, but she ran this show. He knew that.

  When Gus barked again, Nash snapped his eyes open and glared. “You better have a goddamn good reason for waking me up.”

  Again, Gus barked.

  The
type of bark that had Nash knowing this wasn’t about Gus being his typical pain-in-the-ass self and waking Nash up for no reason. Nash’s body was heavy and desperate for more sleep, and his eyes hurt. He ran his hands over his face. Maybe Gus had eaten something and it wasn’t agreeing with him. Not wanting to deal with that shit—literally—Nash slid out of bed then headed for the living room of the single-story log home Chase had built for him to let the dog out.

  When he was two steps down the hallway, Gus barked again.

  “What?” Nash asked, glancing over his shoulder before snorting to himself. It wasn’t like Gus could answer. At that stupidity, Nash’s mind slowly began to wake up, and Gus trotted off in the other direction down the hallway.

  Nash sighed and followed. At the very end of the hallway was a small laundry room. Gus sat down and shoved his head between the wall and the dryer. Growing curious, Nash sidled up next to him and peered into the space.

  “Hell no!” Wide awake now, Nash gave Gus a shove to the side, not believing his eyes.

  A gray-and-white cat lay on her side. Not my cat. Blood covered the space. Not my kittens. “This is not your house,” he told the cat, going down to one knee. With a steady push, Nash shoved the dryer over and discovered a cat that didn’t belong to him had taken his favorite T-shirt and birthed three kittens on it. “My goddamn shirt,” he growled.

  Gus stuck his face under Nash’s arm, getting a good look at the kittens.

  The kittens were screeching. The cat was not moving. He touched the mom, expecting to get attacked, but the cat lay motionless. He gave her a hard poke on the hip. Nothing. No flicker of movement.

  Gus whined.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Nash leaned in, squinting his eyes, and saw movement on her belly, telling him she was still breathing. “You’re forgiven for waking me up,” he told Gus, then grabbed the laundry basket, emptying the contents onto the floor. He gently pulled out his now-ruined shirt and scooped up the cat and her kittens, placing them in the basket.

  He threw on one of his dirty T-shirts and jeans from the floor and grabbed the basket full of cats, heading out the door within minutes. Once outside, he placed the basket on the floor of the passenger seat, and Gus took the seat, obviously not wanting to be left behind.

  Nash was on the road in seconds and found the emergency vet clinic phone number on his cell.

  Leah, the veterinarian who cared for the small animals in town, answered on the fourth ring. “It’s Nash Blackshaw,” he said. “I’m on my way to see you with a cat who gave birth to three kittens. Something’s wrong.”

  “I’ll be ready.” Leah’s voice sounded as tired as Nash felt. Obviously, he had woken her.

  Sunrise was not far off now, and a couple hours of sleep was not enough, but adrenaline was pumping through Nash’s veins as he drove toward town.

  Twenty minutes later, Nash arrived at the clinic, finding Main Street with only a few cars on it. The rest of River Rock was fast asleep. He parked at the curb then jumped out, moving quickly to open the passenger side door. Gus joined Nash outside, and Nash grabbed the basket, hurrying toward Leah standing at the doorway. She wore a long white coat with her jet-black hair pulled up in a ponytail.

  The second Nash got inside of the clinic, Leah glanced into the basket. “Let’s have a look.” She placed her hands on the cat, who still didn’t move, and squeezed her belly, sending a gush of blood onto his once-favorite T-shirt. A shirt that Nash had since high school. It was old and ratty and so damn comfortable.

  “She’s hemorrhaging,” Leah said, concern in her voice. She scooped up the cat. “Wait here.”

  Nash blinked, holding on to the basket of screaming kittens. Watching Leah run off into the back, he realized how bad the cat’s condition was. He moved to the chairs in the waiting room, taking a seat, placing the basket onto the floor.

  Gus came next to him and sat down, looking at the kittens before glancing up at Nash with his tongue wagging out.

  “Just because you may have saved that cat’s life, don’t get any ideas,” he told his dog. “We’re not keeping them.”

  Gus glanced back at the kittens and whined before lying down next to him. Nash stared at the kittens screaming at him, not sure what in the hell to do with them.

  Gus flicked his eyes up at him. Those puppy-dog eyes got to Nash every damn time.

  “Fine.” He scooped up the little fluff balls gently and placed them against his chest. All three kittens fit in one hand. They had to be hungry.

  He was tempted to go back and ask about food when Leah suddenly rushed out of the back room, carrying a brown bag and a piece of paper. “I need to take her into surgery,” she said. “Go home.” She practically tossed the bag at him and gave him a note. “There’s bottles and formula. The note tells you everything.”

  “Wait,” he called. Maybe holding them had given Leah the wrong idea. “They aren’t mine.” He had the guest ranch to run. He had something to prove to Megan. He had a baby on the way. “Leah,” he called as she turned away. “Leah,” he repeated, more firmly.

  “You’ve got this,” she said, jogging toward the back. “I’ll call you once she’s stable.”

  Nash stared at the empty room. He glanced at the kittens in his hand. They’d grown quiet, maybe warm and comforted now.

  The universe seemed to enjoy putting him in a state of complete shock lately. He didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit. He looked into the bag, finding bottles and formula, then glanced at Leah’s scribbled handwritten note. Sterilize bottles. Feed every two-three hours. Use cotton balls to clean kittens’ genitals to stimulate bowels.

  He groaned and looked at Gus. His dog’s tail was wagging. “I said no,” Nash grumbled. “We are not keeping them.”

  Gus barked in obvious disagreement.

  Chapter 7

  Midmorning the next day, Nash moved away from Bentley after he tied him to the fence, while the other guests began tacking up their mounts for the lunch cookout. He’d missed the early morning cattle run, exhausted from last night. Beckett and Hayes reassured him they had it all under control. And Nash arrived at the farm a half an hour before noon to realize they did. It had taken two of his mother’s strongest cups of coffee to get his ass in gear, but he was awake now and ready to get on with the day.

  “Now this I had to see for myself.”

  Nash glanced over his shoulder to find Megan standing behind him, her eyes lit with heady amusement.

  Confused, Nash turned to face her fully. “See what?”

  “I didn’t believe Emma when she told me.” Megan’s gaze fell to the tool belt around Nash’s waist before she arched her eyebrows. “You put the kittens in a tool belt?”

  Nash glanced down, reminded they were there. Fuck, maybe he wasn’t awake enough. “Seemed as good an idea as any.” He shrugged. “Where else was I going to put them? The little squirts feed every three hours.”

  She laughed softly and shook her head. “Did you ride over with Bentley like that?”

  “Yeah.” He moved a little closer, aware of how pretty she looked today in jeans and a tank top. “They’re either eating or sleeping. And they fit in this pretty good. They’re safe.”

  She leaned in a little and peaked at them. “Oh, my goodness, they are so little.”

  “They might be cute, but they shriek like fighting racoons when they’re hungry.”

  “I can’t believe the cat got into your house.” She used a finger to softly pet the black kitten. “Any word on the mom’s condition?”

  He was entirely aware of how close her finger was to parts of his body very interested in her nearness. “Leah called earlier and said it’s still touch-and-go.”

  Megan petted all three kittens before leaning away, tucking her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, studying him with a smile.

  “What?” Nash frowned.

  “Look at you being a big softy about kittens.” She smiled then waggled her eyebrows. “I like it.”

  Already hot a
nd hard, he grinned and closed the distance. “Well then, what if I told you that I’m hand-feeding them?”

  She pressed herself against his side. “That might make me melt a little.”

  He dropped his head and nuzzled her neck. “I feed them every two to three hours. I barely slept last night.”

  “Oh, you poor thing.” She slid her hand up his arm and moaned when he dropped a kiss onto her pulse. “I’ll have to take care of you later.”

  “Mmm . . . that’s a promise I’m going to call you on.” She shivered, and then he kissed her. Hard. Passionately. Leaving her breathless, just as intended.

  When he broke the kiss, the bright smile she gave him stayed in his thoughts as he left the kittens with his mother and set out on the chuckwagon, heading up the back of the line. Both his brothers and Emma, and even their mother, had all done their part to make the guest ranch a success. This had been Nash’s recent suggestion. He figured anyone coming to a dude ranch wanted a little taste of the old wild west. That’s what this lunch was all about. The chefs cooked over the open fire while the guests watched on and took in the Colorado mountain views with the Rocky Mountains off in the distance.

  Only this ride, unlike every ride for the last three months, was different. He glanced sideways to the reason he’d been smiling nonstop. Megan rode his big-bodied dark gray quarter horse, Major. She’d reassured him that her doctor said she could continue to ride until her second trimester. Regardless, he’d put her atop a horse that he’d trust with a one-year-old. They called horses like Major bombproof, and Nash had trained him to be just that.

  For the last hour they’d been riding at a slow walk up the mountain, and Megan was quiet, obviously lost in her thoughts. He’d never seen her ride before, but around these parts, everyone rode as easily as they walked. She wore a pink tank top with tight jeans, her cowboy boots, and a dark tanned cowboy hat atop her head.

  She looked every bit a cowgirl, and every bit his girl.