The True Cowboy of Sunset Ridge (Gold Valley #14)(43)

“Why don’t you just go get some sleep.”

“Sure. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah. See you in the morning.”

He put Lily down to bed in the little cradle and shut the lights off. Then he lay down in bed on his back, staring at the ceiling.

And he wished that he had invited her into his room. Because now, he didn’t want to be in the quiet by himself. He didn’t want to sleep. Because the only thing that was there for him was the unending pool of darkness and the icy fingers of death that seemed all too close when he tried to sleep some nights.

But it never took him. Not ever.

And instead, he felt mocked by the people who had gone before him. Images of his mother, his father. Images of those last moments he’d seen them.

When he’d stepped off the plane and traded places with her.

When the door had closed behind him. And he was waving.

And then to the last time he had seen Trent. Cocky and drunk and talking about how he was going to conquer that next bull. And he thought about saying something. Thought about telling the kid to slow his roll. But instead he laughed and patted him on the back. Because he had always cheated death.

Why wouldn’t Trent?

But he hadn’t.

And Colt was still here.

And he made a promise. A vow. That he’d be here for Lily. Because he was here when he shouldn’t be. And so he would be here for her. Because it was about the only worthwhile thing he could think of.

It was about the only reason he could think of that he might still be left behind.



CHAPTER NINE


MALLORY JERKED AWAKE SUDDENLY, and she wasn’t quite sure why. The baby wasn’t crying.

The baby wasn’t crying. The baby should have cried.

Her heart was pounding. She wasn’t sure why she was so absolutely awake, or so absolutely certain of what was going on, only that she was. It was as if she hadn’t fallen asleep at all. She was in the guest bedroom at Colt Daniels’s house, and they were taking care of the baby. She had fallen asleep on his couch in the middle of the night and he had woken up. And then he had sent her to the guest room. Where she had slept all the way through the night.

She got out of bed and realized she was still fully clothed, and that her dress was wrinkled. She tugged it down as best she could and pushed her hair back off her face, walking out of the bedroom and looking down the hall. The door to his bedroom was cracked open, and she pushed at it. Then she heard sounds coming from down the stairs.

Dishes clattering. She walked downstairs, and when she hit midway down the staircase, she could smell... Bacon.

She turned left and went into the kitchen, and there he was. Lily was sitting in the little chair that they had bought for her, dozing, and Colt was scrambling eggs, frying bacon... And then he took a tray of biscuits out of the oven.

“What is this?”

“I have to get to work soon,” he said. “And I get hungry in the morning. Pretty much don’t usually stop for lunch. Plus, since you’re staying all day... I figured I owe you a thank-you.”

“You... You made biscuits.”

“I opened a can of biscuits. That’s not really the same thing.”

“But still.”

“Mallory, this is about the easiest cooking a person can do.”

“Oh, I know that. I cook this kind of breakfast all the time. It’s just...”

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for her.

Her parents were wonderful. They really were. But the thing about Mallory was she had been a late in life baby. Something of a surprise. Griffin had basically been an only child for a very long time. And then when they were kids... He had done most of the entertaining for her. He had cooked for her and taken care of her. And then he went off to college. Her parents had reconnected with each other, found their spark after their oldest child had left home. And that had been wonderful. But they had gotten a babysitter a lot. They had gone out to dinner, gone on vacations. She had stayed with her grandparents, who she also loved dearly. It wasn’t that there weren’t people in her life who were there for her. There were.

But there was still something... There was something quite notable about a man cooking breakfast for her.

“I’m just... Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Did she... Did she wake up a lot last night?”

“Two more times. But it wasn’t a big deal. I got it taken care of.”

“I was here so that I can help...”

“You’re helping all day. There’s no reason for you to have gotten up last night.

“Coffee’s over there.”

That jolted her out of her strange fugue state. It was just incredibly weird to be in this moment. A lot like playing house. And it left her disquieted. She moved around the kitchen until she found the coffee mugs and then poured herself a generous helping. She made her way to the fridge and opened it up. But there was no half-and-half to be seen.

“No cream?”

“No. I have milk. But... I drink it black.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little bit more crushed than was necessary.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” she said, grabbing the carton of milk and pouring a dollop into her coffee, grimacing when the liquid turned a sort of thin brown, rather than the lovely, creamy color that she preferred.