Read Online Lonesome Cowboy (Honky Tonk Hearts) by Stacy Dawn - Free Book Online
Authors: Stacy Dawn
Tags: Contemporary, Western
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shut, she squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. It’s just the lack of sleep—Charlotte’s got her days and nights mixed up.”
“Then why don’t you just sit there for a bit?” He rocked back on his heels and nodded toward the door. “I’ll go get the rest of the groceries.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” she said, opening her eyes.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” My foot on the stairs is better than in my mouth again .
After a tired, resigned nod, she rested her head on her hand, elbow propped on the thick cushions. She looked so worn out and endearing at the same time, he turned away before he did something stupid, like stay.
And what do you call going out to retrieve her groceries?
He couldn’t answer that. Good or bad, like it or not, they had a history. Turned out, he couldn’t turn off the caring as easily as he had thought.
Flying down the steps, he grabbed up the two bags topped with diapers in one and fruit in the other and returned. A few strides and they sat next to the other on the small kitchen countertop.
“There you go,” he said, turning around. “No problem at al—”
The sight of the innocent beauty asleep on the daybed stole his breath. His chest constricted. Over the long months after he walked out, when he couldn’t stop her from invading his mind, this was how he remembered her most; how he would wake up in the middle of the night and just stare at her sleeping, then wake her with a…
Marshall stepped closer, leaned over and pulled the light quilt atop her. She didn’t even stir. The soft skin drew him, and he found his lips inches from her forehead before he caught himself. His heart started pounding, and he pushed himself upright. Old habits died harder than he realized.
Needing to get out of there, he took the few steps to the door . Small cooing and scuffling sounds began from the basinet as his hand grasped the knob. He froze for a moment, sure the child would settle, but she turned out to be a scrapper like her mother.
Remembering the mighty lungs the small babe had the night she was born, he darted a glance to the settee. Amy’s brows dipped in sleep, as if sensing her daughter’s distress.
Marshal went to the child. Bright eyes stared up at him for a moment before the nose wrinkled and mouth puckered open. He reached in and laid a hand over the baby’s tummy. “Shhh, there now, sweetheart. Your mama needs a little rest.”
Charlotte appeared immune to his plea as her eyes clenched shut and the little chest beneath his hand readied a deep breath. Instinctively, he reached down and lifted the babe before she could finish the thought.
Holding her head in the palm of one hand, he tucked her body beneath his arm like a football and swayed her gently. Meza had thought it funny to hand him the new babe on that visit, giving him pointers for when it was his turn. At the time, Marshall hadn’t appreciated his friend’s amusement at his awkwardness.
Yeah, buddy, well look at this , he thought as he continued to rock back and forth, and the child calmed down. He glanced to Amy, sleeping like a baby herself, brows no longer creased. Marshall grinned to himself, wishing his buddy could see him now.
Then reality hit—he’d made a huge tactical error.
If he set the baby down, she’d cry and wake Amy.
If he continued to hold her, escape was impossible.
Chapter Eight
Marshall eased down in the small rocker and blew out a breath as he readjusted the babe in the crook of his arm.
“Well, Peanut, now what do I do?” he whispered. The question took on a whole new meaning when he glanced to the sleeping beauty on the daybed across from them.
He removed his hat and wiped the tension from his brow with his forearm. When he replaced the Stetson, he glanced down to find wide eyes staring back. The little nose scrunched as if to tell him he was an idiot.
“Not you, too,” he all but sighed. “I’m getting the same look
“Then why don’t you just sit there for a bit?” He rocked back on his heels and nodded toward the door. “I’ll go get the rest of the groceries.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” she said, opening her eyes.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” My foot on the stairs is better than in my mouth again .
After a tired, resigned nod, she rested her head on her hand, elbow propped on the thick cushions. She looked so worn out and endearing at the same time, he turned away before he did something stupid, like stay.
And what do you call going out to retrieve her groceries?
He couldn’t answer that. Good or bad, like it or not, they had a history. Turned out, he couldn’t turn off the caring as easily as he had thought.
Flying down the steps, he grabbed up the two bags topped with diapers in one and fruit in the other and returned. A few strides and they sat next to the other on the small kitchen countertop.
“There you go,” he said, turning around. “No problem at al—”
The sight of the innocent beauty asleep on the daybed stole his breath. His chest constricted. Over the long months after he walked out, when he couldn’t stop her from invading his mind, this was how he remembered her most; how he would wake up in the middle of the night and just stare at her sleeping, then wake her with a…
Marshall stepped closer, leaned over and pulled the light quilt atop her. She didn’t even stir. The soft skin drew him, and he found his lips inches from her forehead before he caught himself. His heart started pounding, and he pushed himself upright. Old habits died harder than he realized.
Needing to get out of there, he took the few steps to the door . Small cooing and scuffling sounds began from the basinet as his hand grasped the knob. He froze for a moment, sure the child would settle, but she turned out to be a scrapper like her mother.
Remembering the mighty lungs the small babe had the night she was born, he darted a glance to the settee. Amy’s brows dipped in sleep, as if sensing her daughter’s distress.
Marshal went to the child. Bright eyes stared up at him for a moment before the nose wrinkled and mouth puckered open. He reached in and laid a hand over the baby’s tummy. “Shhh, there now, sweetheart. Your mama needs a little rest.”
Charlotte appeared immune to his plea as her eyes clenched shut and the little chest beneath his hand readied a deep breath. Instinctively, he reached down and lifted the babe before she could finish the thought.
Holding her head in the palm of one hand, he tucked her body beneath his arm like a football and swayed her gently. Meza had thought it funny to hand him the new babe on that visit, giving him pointers for when it was his turn. At the time, Marshall hadn’t appreciated his friend’s amusement at his awkwardness.
Yeah, buddy, well look at this , he thought as he continued to rock back and forth, and the child calmed down. He glanced to Amy, sleeping like a baby herself, brows no longer creased. Marshall grinned to himself, wishing his buddy could see him now.
Then reality hit—he’d made a huge tactical error.
If he set the baby down, she’d cry and wake Amy.
If he continued to hold her, escape was impossible.
Chapter Eight
Marshall eased down in the small rocker and blew out a breath as he readjusted the babe in the crook of his arm.
“Well, Peanut, now what do I do?” he whispered. The question took on a whole new meaning when he glanced to the sleeping beauty on the daybed across from them.
He removed his hat and wiped the tension from his brow with his forearm. When he replaced the Stetson, he glanced down to find wide eyes staring back. The little nose scrunched as if to tell him he was an idiot.
“Not you, too,” he all but sighed. “I’m getting the same look
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