Her Bucking Bronc by Beth Williamson Page A

by Mama, and held a great deal of memories for Hannah. To her surprise, he sat at the picnic table and was just putting his phone in his front pocket.
    He pushed his hat back and crossed his ankles. “Something smells good.”
    Hannah crossed her arms and leaned against the huge oak tree whose branches created a canopy of shade at the pump. The leaves whispered in the breeze. It should have been a peaceful spot, but she was itchy in her own skin. Off balance.
    “Why are you here?”
    He met her gaze. “You invited me for breakfast, remember?”
    Hannah shook her head. “I’m crazy, Dylan. I mean, like for real crazy. Some days I have no idea what I’m doing. Did you know my fiancé died? I’ve been stumbling through life since then. It’s been a swirling mass of confusion, and now things seem so crystal clear.” She blinked, her eyes stinging. “Fighting with you pushed me to wake up from the fog I was living in. Stupid and foolish as it sounds, you yanked me back into life.”
    Her head swam and before she realized it, he was beside her, guiding her to sit down on the picnic table. She felt cold all over and she trembled.
    “Thank you.” She leaned forward and put her head between her knees. A cold cloth landed on her neck and she closed her eyes.
    “I’m sorry for your loss. And for giving you the vapors.” His deep voice was low and soothing, while his hand ran up and down her back.
    “I feel like an idiot.” She spoke to the dirt and thick green grass beneath her bare feet.
    “Nah, we all have low spots in our lives. I came because you invited me. Because I like being with you, even if you are bossy and stubborn.”
    Her eyes closed. “Thank you. Sometimes I get out of control and I have trouble pulling myself out of it.”
    “Yeah, I’ve done that. I needed someone to kick my ass too.”
    She chuffed a laugh. “Is that what you’re doing?”
    “More or less.”
    She didn’t feel like she’d been ass-kicked. No, she felt taken care of. Strange as that sounded. He wasn’t a stranger or a friend, but she felt safe.
    After a few minutes of breathing, she felt calmer and managed to sit up. He plucked a black bandanna off her neck and went to the faucet to wet it. When he returned he cupped her chin and wiped her face. The combination of the cool cloth and the breeze felt amazing.
    She stared at him; the gentle man was so different than the general contractor who had argued with her from the moment they met. He was a good man, and that shouldn’t surprise her. Dax would have investigated Dylan thoroughly before hiring him for the restaurant rebuild. The Blackwoods had family friends, the Grahams, and Lazarus Graham was a Texas Ranger who had gone to college with Dax. Whenever they wanted any criminal check done, Laz was the go-to.
    All that aside, Dylan could have gone about his business at the jobsite without her. Probably even wanted to, but he decided to come for breakfast anyway.
    Before she realized what she was doing, she kissed him. His lips were warm and soft. She pulled back and looked at him. His gaze searched hers for something. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it because he pushed his hat off, leaned forward and kissed her back.
    His mouth moved across hers with deliberate gentleness, while he lapped at the seam of her lips. She sighed and opened to his questing tongue. The inviting recesses of his mouth were hot and delicious, and she dove in with wild abandon.
    They didn’t touch except for their mouths. His hot breaths gusted across her cheek while her body pulsed in time with her thumping heart. The distant sounds of horses and a barking dog were the only sounds other than their mouths.
    He pulled back and her eyes fluttered open. The pupils of his eyes were almost black against the dark blue of his iris. He smelled good, like peppermint and soap and man. She licked her lips and he watched the path of her tongue that had recently been in his mouth.
    “Wow.”
    “You’re a good