Bucking Bronc Lodge 04(14)

He had failed Timmy before. He couldn’t fail him now.

Determination renewed, he took a deep breath and crossed the way to the stables to meet Jordan and his son. Memories of his own childhood haunted him as he let himself inside the barn.

Jordan’s soft voice met his ears as he stepped inside and breathed the scent of fresh hay.

“This fellow’s name is Dominique but we call him Dom, and this one is Freedom because he likes to run free when he gets the chance.”

Three of the stalls he passed were empty, but he spotted Jordan moving along the last four, pausing at each one to introduce the animal and pet it. Timmy stood close to her, his body not quite as rigid as it was when he’d left him. He’d always wanted a horse, and Miles had promised him that he’d buy him one, but he’d never followed through.

As soon as the case ended, he would make that promise come true.

Then he’d sell that house Marie had bought. Timmy would never go back there and have to face the place where the bloodbath had occurred.

Maybe he’d even buy himself a nice ranch, something small that he could manage, a place where he could raise Timmy, where his little boy would have acres to play and roam and explore.

A tall chestnut whinnied, dipping her head out for attention, and Jordan laughed softly. “And this girl, I call her Molasses because she’s such a sweet filly.”

Timmy actually reached up to pet the horse, and Molasses responded by gently nuzzling her nose against his hand. The sight of Timmy doing something so normal made Miles’s chest swell with hope and longing that one day he would have his little boy back, happy and laughing and playing like a child should.

Sunlight streamed through the barn, glinting off Jordan’s golden-blond hair, and for a moment he simply watched her, the feminine way she moved, the sultry way she inclined her head and laughed as the horse rubbed his nose against her own.

The protective way she gently laid a hand on his son’s shoulder as if to assure him that she cared, that he wasn’t alone.

His earlier conversation with her rolled through his head, and he realized he’d been so defensive that he hadn’t noticed much about her. He’d been too busy listening to the guilt and recriminations screaming at him, reminding him that if he’d reached Marie’s house earlier that morning, Timmy’s mother might not be dead.

But now with the solace of the ranch life echoing around them and the sun highlighting her features, her beauty suddenly struck him—not that she was perfect or model-like, but she had a simple, natural beauty that radiated from her, a sweet tenderness that made his gut clench with emotions.

And desire.

He silently cursed himself. Good God, he couldn’t let himself be attracted to this woman. She was Timmy’s counselor. A woman he needed to help his son.

Besides, what kind of man was he?

Marie had only been gone a few weeks. Even though they’d had their problems, she had been the mother of his child and he’d vowed to try to make things work with her.

Dammit. Her death lay on his conscience like a fire-breathing dragon that had to be reckoned with.

Getting justice for her murder was the only thing that would help.

That was where his focus had to be. Not on the fact that he’d like to throw Jordan down in the hay and pound himself inside her until she made the bad memories go away.

Oblivious to his wayward thoughts, Jordan glanced up and spotted him and gave him a warm smile. “There’s your father now, Timmy.” She waved at him to come over. “Miles, Timmy was just saying hello to a few of the horses.”

Miles forced thoughts of Jordan and her sexuality from his mind. This woman was off-limits and he couldn’t forget it.

“Hey, sport.” Miles closed the distance between them and ruffled his son’s hair. “I know you’ve always wanted a horse of your own. Maybe after we leave here, we’ll find us a spread and you can pick out one.”

Timmy turned his small face up toward him, and the hope Miles felt earlier slipped away like dust in the wind. His son’s eyes looked so tormented that Miles’s gut wrenched. And the fact that Timmy didn’t speak or hug him like he once would have spoke volumes for his state of mind.

He glanced up and saw Jordan watching him, and a weight lodged in his throat.

Maybe Jordan would be good for him. Maybe being here at the BBL would help.

If it didn’t, he didn’t know what the hell he would do.

He couldn’t fool himself into believing that everything would change overnight. Not Timmy’s condition. Or his own guilt.

And he couldn’t forget for a minute that Dugan and his accomplice—or copycat—posed a threat.

That getting sidetracked by Jordan wasn’t even an option.