Page 13 of Cowboy Peril

How many books could a person read? “That’s going to take a while, ain’t it?”

She laughed. “I’ll order them online and have them delivered. Head to the ranch.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and headed up the mountain. Weekends were always busy, and the upcoming one would be no different. A group of businessmen wanted to experience a couple of nights in the “wild” as a corporate-bonding activity, and it was up to Colt to make sure it happened.

Parker chattered on about her new clothes.

Colt listened with half an ear, his mind on the myriad of other things he still had left to do before heading to bed that night. Not to mention the lingering unease about the man who’d been tracking them.

Chapter Six

Colt bolted upright, the sheets under him soaked with perspiration. He rubbed his hands roughly over his face to wipe away the images from the nightmare that visited him far too regularly.

A glance at the clock sent him flopping back onto his pillow. Three a.m. after a long night. He groaned and rested his forearm across his eyes.

Facing the realization that Parker was in real trouble and not just trying to get attention brought back the horrors of his brief tour in the Middle East. His team had stormed a compound, guns blazing. Women and children had been caught in the fire.

One woman in particular had torn at his heart. She’d reached out, imploring him to take her hand. He’d gripped it as the last light left her eyes. He hadn’t been able to save her or any of the others. What if he couldn’t save Parker? How could he keep his distance from the woman if he had to protect her? Life had become very complicated.

Sleep refused to come despite lying there for another hour. He sat up, stretched, then made his way to the shower. As foreman of the ranch, he’d been the first to get a tiny house of his own. His large frame barely fit in the shower framed with a metal lip and a curtain that wrapped two-thirds around the opening.

The hot water washed the sweat from his body and the terrors of his nightmare down the drain—at least for a while. Colt made himself a cup of coffee and carried it onto the postage-stamp porch of his house. The sun peeked over the horizon, kissing clouds with orange and crimson.

Someday, he’d own his own ranch, then he’d marry and have a family. In that order. Maybe not here on Misty Mountain,but there were other places to raise cattle. He’d leave the horse-ranching to Dylan.

Lights flickered on in house number three. He couldn’t remember Parker ever getting up before nine. Maybe her brain was on overdrive, the same as his. She had lost both her parents and him in six months’ time. Now an alleged killer stalked her. Those were plenty of reasons for sleep to flee.

Cup in hand, she stepped onto her porch wearing an oversized shirt and shorts, looking way too adorable for a man trying very hard to keep his distance. Seeing him, she raised a hand in greeting, then returned inside her house. She might be up early, but she was no more a morning person than she was six months ago.

He chuckled and finished his coffee as the ranch came to life. When the ranch hands started filtering from the bunkhouse, he went inside to put on a shirt before heading to the main house for breakfast. At nine, he’d start interviewing construction workers.

Since the trouble a few months ago, Dylan insisted that all workers hired by the construction crew be interviewed and given a background check. It had slowed down progress, but Colt would finish up with the interviews that day, and building could start tomorrow. Hopefully, there would be a barn when the boss and his family returned from Europe.

He filed into the dining room with the others and took his seat seconds before Parker shuffled in. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, wore no makeup, and her clothes looked as if she’d slept in them. It didn’t stop the men from eyeing her, though. It would take a lot more than an early-morning mussing to make Parker unattractive.

Fighting the urge to glare at the other ranch hands, he reached for the tray of biscuits and put four on his plate beforeladling a healthy serving of white country-sausage gravy over the pile.

Parker paled. “That’s a lot of food, Colt.”

“Yeah?” He arched a brow.

“I mean…how can you eat all that?”

“Healthy appetite and working hard.” He scooped a big bite into his mouth. Why single him out? The other men ate just as much.

She put half a biscuit on her plate and added a scant amount of gravy.

Colt shook his head. His stomach would think his throat had been cut if he ate no more than that.

When he’d finished, he excused himself, asked Mrs. White to send any interviewees to the office, and headed that way.

“I’m busy. Parker will have to escort them,” the older woman said loud enough for him to hear. “Right after she makes herself presentable.”

He chuckled and sat at the desk to respond to emails until the first appointment. Parker could never be unpresentable once she shook off the aftereffects of sleep.

At three minutes past nine, Parker brought the owner of the construction company into his office. The man thrust out his hand. “David Townsend of Townsend Construction. We’re happy for your business. Why the need for interviews of my workers?”

Colt returned the man’s handshake, then motioned for him to have a seat. “Mr. Wyatt’s request.”

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