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Cowboy Lullaby
Cowboy Lullaby
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Cowboy Lullaby

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Cowboy Lullaby
Sasha Summers

BACK TO THE BEGINNINGAaron “Click” Hale is a reminder of Tandy Boone’s past and of the heartache they endured years ago. But the handsome horse trainer is back in Fort Kyle, Texas, raising a toddler on his own, and stirring up all the dreams—and emotions—he and Tandy once shared.Click is reeling, and only partially because Tandy is back in his life. He discovered he was a father the same day he was given custody of his young daughter, Pearl. As Click adjusts to parenthood, Tandy is supportive and wonderful with the little girl. But they’re both still hurting. Can Tandy and Click find a way through their old pain to build a new family together?

BACK TO THE BEGINNING

Aaron “Click” Hale is a reminder of Tandy Boone’s past and of the heartache they endured years ago. But the handsome horse trainer is back in Fort Kyle, Texas, raising a toddler on his own, and stirring up all the dreams—and emotions—he and Tandy once shared.

Click is reeling, and only partially because Tandy is back in his life. He discovered he was a father the same day he was given custody of his young daughter, Pearl. As Click adjusts to parenthood, Tandy is supportive and wonderful with the little girl. But they’re both still hurting. Can Tandy and Click find a way through their old pain to build a new family together?

“Tandy, there are things to be said—” Click took a shaky breath.

“No.” Her voice razor sharp, she threw up a hand.

“Tandy—”

“We’re not talking about the past.” The words were harsh.

He gritted his teeth. “Let me apologize.”

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, dammit,” he argued.

“You need to apologize so I need to listen?” She shook her head. “So you can feel better? Be able to let go and move on?”

He tore his gaze from hers, staring at the floor. If he thought she was happy, that she’d moved on, he’d let it go. But she hadn’t. And neither had he. Maybe together they could find a way back to living without bearing so much pain.

He sucked in another deep breath and stared at her.

“Have you?” He crossed the room, needing to be close to her. Yearning for her touch. “Because I can’t…and I don’t want to.”

Dear Reader (#udac7effc-ea84-52be-9dbf-ad52f78dcaeb),

I’m so excited to share Click and Tandy’s story with you. As a hopeless romantic, I like to believe that true love really does conquer all. Sometimes the obstacles are small. For Click and Tandy, that’s not the case.

With most of Tandy’s relatives falling in love and starting families, she’s reminded of everything she had—and lost. Instead of getting bogged down in grief, she jumps on a too-good-to-pass-up job offer and the change of scenery it brings. But her past followed her to the West Texas town—and so does the heartache.

Click Hale hadn’t planned on being a single father. But his daughter is all he has in the world, and he’s determined to do the best he can. If he can win back Tandy’s love, he’ll give his daughter the family he never had and make his dreams come true.

I hope you enjoy our first visit to Fort Kyle and the rugged beauty of West Texas. Be on the lookout for the next Boone book, and happy reading!

All the best,

Sasha Summers

Cowboy Lullaby

Sasha Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

SASHA SUMMERS grew up surrounded by books. Her passions have always been storytelling, romance and travel. Whether it’s an easy-on-the-eyes cowboy or a hero of truly mythic proportions, Sasha falls a little in love with each and every one of her heroes. She frequently gets lost with her characters in the worlds she creates, forgetting those everyday tasks like laundry and dishes. Luckily, her four brilliant children and hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and helpful.

For Jolene Navarro

Thank you for your time, your mad plotting skills and your constant support.

Contents

Cover (#ufc265f91-e741-5ddf-8175-a1f8c9462c96)

Back Cover Text (#uc8440f9c-ac49-5c1c-9753-696c25d3bb59)

Introduction (#ud55c4c7d-a6d9-575e-a589-7ddfefc39ad1)

Dear Reader (#u2d3f816f-c4af-5466-aa27-37119e536696)

Title Page (#u6174e21f-4031-5490-952c-5e7886616b8c)

About the Author (#u46501bfd-9f09-5a9b-98f9-0a1475755843)

Dedication (#u63cac876-7d1d-58f9-9144-f67a8e31865c)

Chapter One (#ucde86a0b-caf3-5d69-b9d7-9859075e7ddc)

Chapter Two (#u2e76c91f-f16b-59e3-9cc9-f6fff85b74e7)

Chapter Three (#u4bab473b-dd1a-50be-a406-2f1e4c2c8724)

Chapter Four (#ucf416f76-bb26-5041-835a-79c6874cf33a)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#udac7effc-ea84-52be-9dbf-ad52f78dcaeb)

“Lynnie would be spitting nails if she knew everyone in town had been here with the house looking this way.” Tandy stood in the front parlor, surveying the room. Her massive dog, Banshee, sat at her side.

Most of the residents of Fort Kyle had already left, leaving casseroles, desserts and treats to cover Lynnie’s kitchen counters and tables. Not that there was anyone left to eat them. Still, it’s what folks did—bring food, visit, share memories that honored the recently deceased.

Tandy swallowed hard. It was difficult to accept Lynnie was gone. She’d been such a strong spirit, and Tandy couldn’t imagine life without her.

Walking into Lynnie Hale’s house was like stepping back in time. Any second now, she expected Lynnie to walk around the corner—wearing her favorite apron, with a welcoming smile on her face and stories to tell.

A wave of nostalgia rolled over Tandy. This had been the place she’d been happiest. Seeing it empty and quiet was plain wrong. She ran her fingers along the fine layer of dust on Lynnie’s upright piano, a sure sign the older woman hadn’t been home in some time. If she had, her piano would have stayed clean and neat. Lynnie Hale was—had been—fiercely and unapologetically house proud. To have the people of Fort Kyle here seeing her home and treasures in anything less than perfect condition would make Lynnie ashamed.

She hurried into the kitchen to find her cousins, Scarlett and Renata, covering food and storing it in the refrigerator.

“Anyone left?” Renata asked her.

“A few of her friends are still chatting in the living room. I think everyone else has cleared out,” she answered, offering them both a smile.

“Can we clean now?” Scarlett asked.

“Bothering you, too?” Tandy asked. “I kept imagining her, how mad she’d be.”

Renata nodded. “I only wish we could have set the place to rights before all of Fort Kyle came by.”

Tandy nodded. No point wishing what could have been. “We can fix it now,” she said, collecting a trash bag.

They cleared away the used dishes, stopping to chat with Lynnie’s closest friends now and then. When the dishes were gone, Tandy pulled out a duster, wood polish and an old rag and got to work. Banshee trailed after her, her constant shadow. Renata was sweeping, and Scarlett took the trash out.

Grief sat heavy on her chest, but Tandy fought it. Lynnie wouldn’t want tears or despair, she’d want laughter. Better to think about the dozens of homemade cookies, muffins, pies and breads they’d made in Lynnie’s kitchen, the sticky-sweet jams or veggies they’d canned, or the hours upon hours Tandy and her cousins had spent playing the piano and singing at the top of their lungs. Lynnie wasn’t kin, but she’d welcomed Tandy and her cousins into her home as if they were. Whenever they wandered onto her property—which was often—she’d gone out of her way to carve out time for them. So much love. And laughter. And music. Always music.

Lynnie’s place was comfort and love, laughter and songs, and family.

Tandy surveyed her work, satisfied.

She turned her attention to the framed photos decorating the wall behind the piano. She ran the feather duster around each frame, each image a familiar glimpse at the woman they’d lost. Lynnie, tall and thin, in a handful of committees and board photos. Lynnie with her prized preserves, judging livestock shows and riding drag rider at the rear of a cattle drive. There were pictures of those Lynnie loved there, too. Tandy’s picture was there, young and smiling, with Scarlett and Renata.

And Click. She studied his smile. Those blue-green eyes had made the world a better place. But that had been a long time ago.

Aaron “Click” Hale was part of her past. That’s where he needed to stay. Her cheeks grew hot, her chest heavy. He’d turn up soon. Of course he would. For Lynnie. They were kin, through thick and thin.

I can do this.

Tandy headed back into the kitchen to stow her cleaning supplies. Inside her well-organized pantry hung Lynnie’s collection of aprons. Some she’d made, some she’d bought and some were gifts. A rainbow of colors and shapes. Some were practical, the ones Lynnie wore daily. Others were pure silliness—with ruffles and sparkles and silly sayings. Still, Lynnie had held on to them.

Lynnie’s favorite, blue calico and patched so many times the original fabric was suspect, hung aside. Tandy stroked the soft fabric, drawing in an unsteady breath. I will miss you so, Lynnie.

“Tandy?” Scarlett called out. “I’m putting on a pot of coffee for Widow Riley. Want some?”

Tandy closed the pantry, shutting away the memories and sadness that followed. “Sure.”

“Think she’d be satisfied?” Renata asked, hanging the broom on its hook by the back door. Her blue eyes scrutinized their hurried cleaning efforts.

Tandy giggled. “I can hear her now. ‘Dust is just a country accent.’ Wasn’t that it?”

Scarlett and Renata laughed. It was true. In West Texas, dust was part of the decorating. Best you could do was keep it to a minimum. They’d done that.

“Banshee,” she said to the Anatolian shepherd. “Go outside for now.” She rubbed him behind the ear as he passed, looking insulted by his banishment. “It won’t take long,” she promised.

Scarlett carried a tray with coffee into the dining room. Renata followed with a plate of cookies. If Lynnie’s friends needed to stay a bit longer, they’d do what they could to be hospitable. It’s what Lynnie would have wanted. They served coffee, cleared more plates and moved into the parlor.

“You should play something.” Scarlett nodded at the now dust-free instrument.

She stared at the piano. “I can’t,” she confessed. “I don’t want to embarrass her, crying on her keyboard.”

Scarlett draped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry this happened now. Not saying there’s a better time for...” She broke off and shook her head. “You just moved here, is all I mean. To lose Lynnie now, when you’re back, it’s not fair.”

Tandy nodded. Lynnie had played a huge part in her decision to move to Fort Kyle. She swallowed.

“Lynnie would be glad you were back, Tandy,” Renata said. “And glad we set the place to rights.”

Tandy nodded, her gaze sweeping the parlor and the small group of white-haired ladies chatting away. Lynnie didn’t have family to come and tidy up her place. Other than some second cousin in the city—which city had never been specified—Lynnie didn’t have much.

Except for Click.

Tandy swallowed the razor-sharp lump in her throat, painful all the way down. Her attention wandered, but there was still no sign of Lynnie’s great-nephew. He’d be hurting, too. Lynnie was his rock, the only family that treated him like he was more than a nuisance and mistake.

“How old were we?” Renata asked, studying the wall of pictures she’d dusted earlier.

She glanced at the photo of them. “Young.” That girl hadn’t imagined her future like this. That girl had believed in the promise of a future full of everything she’d never had.

“You okay?” Renata asked, nudging her.

“We don’t have to be here.” Scarlett took her hand.

“Of course we do,” Tandy argued. “We all loved Lynnie. He might not even be here—”