Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part Four of Four

by Danita Cahill

“Justin, what are you and your lady friend doing sneaking up on us?” Tanner asked, his voice gravelly now, accusing.

He knows Justin, Mia thought. He’s got to be the cowboy they planned to fix me up with, doesn’t he?

“Just seeing how you two are getting along.” Justin said, tilting his shaggy blond head and shrugging as though he were filled with innocence.

“Ah, I see. This was a set up then, was it?” Tanner arched a brow and glanced from Justin to Skye to Mia.

Mia’s heart fell and the heat spread over her ears and traveled down her neck. Didn’t Skye say Tanner/Hunter/Trapper wanted to meet her, too? Maybe Skye said he was willing to meet her. Mia supposed there could be a big difference between the two.

She was confused again. Was this the right guy? And, if so, had he wanted to meet her? Mia gazed once more at her new boots, dismayed to notice a thin layer of rodeo dust already coated the deep-pink leather.

“He treating you okay?” Justin asked Mia.

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Heated blood jetted back to Mia’s face to fully concentrate on her cheeks. My face must be the color of my boots. Maybe it will pass for heat flush. I hope so. But even with her cheeks flaming, Mia still breathed relief. Justin wouldn’t ask if Tanner was treating me okay, and he wouldn’t check on how we were getting along unless Tanner really is the guy I was supposed to meet, right?

Tanner ran a thumb lazily over the back of Mia’s hand. Tingling goose bumps pebbled up her arm. It felt good, felt right, her hand in his. A slight breeze swirled by, and Mia caught a whiff of Tanner’s spicy-citrus aftershave. The scent combined with the dust and horse sweat in a powerful way.

A powerfully-good way

“You let me know if he doesn’t treat you right, and I’ll take care of him for you,” Justin said, a teasing tone to his voice, but a stern look in his eyes as he scanned Tanner’s face. Justin’s gaze traveled lower to settle on Tanner and Mia’s clasped hands. His eyes brightened. “You two lovebirds want to go to Sticks’ barbeque with us after the rodeo?” 

Mia breathed easier. Yes! Justin would not be inviting Tanner and me to a party unless Tanner was definitely the one he and Skye intended me to meet.

“Come on, Mia,” Skye said, leaning forward in earnestness, her hair, the same shiny brown-black as Mia’s, cascading from under her cowboy hat and falling over one shoulder. “Say yes. You know Sticks throws the best barbeques in Bellham.”

Always go on a first date in a public place. Be sure to take a chaperone.

Yes, Papa Pete.

Tanner aimed those golden-brown eyes at Mia. “I’m game, if you are.” He gave her hand a slight squeeze.

“Sure,” she said, the hand and arm tingles returning in full force. “Sounds fun.”  

Skye beamed a smile at Mia and Tanner, and then turned to plant a noisy kiss full on Justin’s mouth.

Mia glanced away, wishing those two would refrain from such blatant public displays of affection. It was embarrassing. Probably one of the reasons they did it. Skye and Justin knew how easy it was to embarrass her, and seemed to enjoy doing so.

Mia looked down at her hand enveloped in Tanner’s. Going on a double date to the barbeque did sound fun. It wouldn’t be dangerous like going off alone into the boonies on a first date – Skye, Justin, and other friends would be at Sticks’ party, too.

Good, safe fun.

“Why don’t we walk you ladies to your seats?” Justin said.  

“Yep, it’s about time to get ready for our rides,” Tanner said. “The performance starts soon. Want to make sure you get good spots.”

Justin and Skye led the way to the grandstand, their arms slung around each other, their footfalls sending up puffs of dust, like smoke-signal shorthand. The puffs lifted and dissipated at intervals as regular as a beating heart.    

Tanner and Mia followed, still holding hands. Again she caught the citrus-spice, horse-sweat fragrance of him. She closed her eyes and drew it in. Mmmmm. 

Tanner angled his head so his lips were close to Mia’s ear. “I’ll look forward to spending time with you after my ride.” Quietly he said it, so only she could hear.

Her heart sprouted feathers and fluttered inside her chest.

As they strolled past the bucking chutes and roping chutes, past other cowboys and cowgirls, Mia once more inspected the plump earlobes protruding from beneath Tanner’s hat. The big ears and good-guy white hat made her smile. If Papa Pete were still around, this cowboy would definitely meet with his approval.  

~Author Bio~

Danita Cahill is an award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest newspapers, and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different magazines. She has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has self-published five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita lives in the Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals, including a herd of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring for her gardens, critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine assignments and her next book projects.

Visit Danita’s author page:

http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/

Find Danita on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill?ref=stream

Follow Danita on Twitter: @DanitaCahill

If you’d like to subscribe to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book signings, appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: danita@centurylink.net and put “newsletter” in the subject line. 

Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part Three of Four

by Danita Cahill

“My name’s Tanner. Tanner Michaels.” He swept off his cowboy hat and held it over his heart, as if paying her homage. “What’s yours?”

A gentleman removes his hat when greeting a lady. It shows respect.

Not Hunter or Trapper, but Tanner. Close. Similar. Oh, I do hope this is the right guy.

“Mia Young,” she said, glad to be distracted from the image of him flying off a wild bronc. She was relieved to note his ears – which she could see clearly now with his hat removed – were larger than average. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled shyly and stuck out her hand.

In quick, fluid motions he dropped his hat back on his head, and grasped her hand as though to shake it. But instead of pumping it in greeting he brought the back of it up to his lips.

When meeting for the first time, a gentleman always kisses a lady’s hand.

His lips were moist, warm, and firmly masculine. A tiny, electrical charge started at the spot his lips touched and tingled up to her elbow. She’d seen men kiss women’s hands in the old movies she used to watch with Papa Pete. But she’d never had her hand kissed before. Not like this. It made her feel silly yet mature all at once.

Tanner’s golden-brown eyes met hers straight on, peering steadily at her as his face hovered over her hand.

Trust only a man who looks you square in the eye.  

Mia silently thanked Papa Pete – more father than grandfather. Although he was gone, his “wisdoms” would always live within her and guide her.

Mia met Tanner’s frank gaze before quickly casting her eyes to her rose-colored boots. She’d bought the boots special for rodeo weekend. Special for this precise moment – to give this cowboy a good first impression. (She was still holding onto hope that this was the correct cowboy. And that hope was growing stronger by the minute).

“Nice to meet you, Mia.” The low, rumbling way he said her name – the same way he’d uttered “uh-huh” earlier – made her suck in a quick breath. Her eyes darted back to his. Her heart beat quickened. Heat flooded her face.

The sound of throat clearing and giggling whipped Mia and Tanner’s heads around to check who was behind them.  

Her friends Justin and Skye stood there, holding hands, big grins on their faces. They joined Tanner and Mia at the rails of the horse corral.

When Mia realized Tanner was still holding her hand she felt like a child caught with her fingers in the candy dish. Embarrassed, she started to yank free. But Tanner tightened his grip, just enough to let her know she was welcome to keep her hand right where it was. As soon as she relaxed her fingers, he reciprocated, cupping his big hand sweetly, protectively around her much smaller one.

~Author Bio~

Danita Cahill is an award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest newspapers, and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different magazines. She has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has self-published five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita lives in the Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals, including a herd of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring for her gardens, critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine assignments and her next book projects.

Visit Danita’s author page:

http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/

Find Danita on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill?ref=stream

Follow Danita on Twitter: @DanitaCahill

If you’d like to subscribe to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book signings, appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: danita@centurylink.net and put “newsletter” in the subject line. 

Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part Two of Four

by Danita Cahill

So here she was, shy as ever, but trying to act bold, approaching and standing beside a hot stranger in a red shirt and snug-fitting jeans. All the while hoping and praying he was the correct cowboy – the one her best friend had told her about.

Mia snuck a peek at the cowboy out of the corner of her eye. If this was the right guy – Hunter or Trapper or whatever the heck his name was, Skye was definitely right about the hot part. A hard-bodied, good-looking guy from boots to hat – dark hair, sun-browned skin, big, strong-boned hands, and the casual, confident grace particular to active, physically-fit young men. Mia, who was nineteen, guessed him to be a couple years older.

For several minutes she continued to stare into the pen of horses. She wanted to bolt in self-conscious panic from the cowboy’s good looks, confident air, and uncertain identity. But she held her ground, waiting for him to say something.

Anything.

Moment after long moment drug by.

Please, say something.

She’d about given up on him ever speaking, and was preparing to leave the wafting dust, and the silent cowboy to seek refuge with Skye and Justin, when suddenly he spoke, startling her.

“What do you think?” his voice was pitched in an impossibly low octave.

“Oh,” Mia said, turning to face him. “Were you talking to me?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, drawing out the two syllables, making them sound way sexier than necessary – not that Mia minded. “What do you think of the horses?”

His voice was deep, raw, amber honey. She could listen to it for hours.

Bet it would sound amazing with my head pressed against his chest.  

But she couldn’t just stand there daydreaming. He’d asked her a question – it was her turn to speak. If I don’t answer he’ll probably think I’m either stuck up, simple minded, or both. Although her tongue felt tangled and knotted and dry, she needed to form words. She willed her tongue to move, her lips to function. 

“Beautiful animals,” she finally managed. “But some look really wild.” Beautiful. Wild. Like you, maybe.  

“Yep,” he said with a slow, sultry grin. “Exactly.”

Goose bumps skittered along Mia’s arms and chest.

“I hope to draw one of the wild ones,” he said.

“Why?” A shudder of fear shot up her back. Whether it was fear of him, or fear for him, she wasn’t certain.

“Because I’d have a better chance of scoring a good ride, of course.”

“Oh.” Mia said, “I see.” But she didn’t want to see. Didn’t want the black-and-white shuttering image of a rogue horse launching this beautiful man through the air.

~Author Bio~

Danita Cahill is an award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest newspapers, and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different magazines. She has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has self-published five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita lives in the Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals, including a herd of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring for her gardens, critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine assignments and her next book projects.

Visit Danita’s author page:

http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/

Find Danita on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill

Follow Danita on Twitter: @DanitaCahill

If you’d like to subscribe to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book signings, appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: danita@centurylink.net and put “newsletter” in the subject line. 

Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part One of Four

by Danita Cahill

You can’t trust a man with little ears.

The idiosyncratic bit of advice was one of many that Mia’s late grandfather had left her with when he passed away eleven months ago. Like this one, most of Papa Pete’s sayings were endearing, if somewhat ridiculous. Funny one of his “wisdoms” should pop into Mia’s head during the Bellham, Oregon, Valley River Rodeo. At this very moment, too – the exact moment she spotted the cowboy.

He was the cowboy her best friend, Skye had told her about. Wasn’t he? Tall. Muscular. Red shirt. It had to be him!

His forearms were propped on the metal rail of a horse pen, one boot firmly planted behind him in the dust, the leg nearest the rail bent and relaxed.

Papa Pete’s advice might seem silly, but as Mia moved closer to the cowboy she couldn’t stop her gaze from sliding along his firm backside, gliding over the powerful round of his shoulder, and up his thick neck to land on his lobe – the only part of his ear she could see. His white straw cowboy hat covered the rest.

Good guys wear white hats.  

His earlobe was decidedly full and thick. Mia let out a small sigh of relief and forced her new boots to approach the rail and stand nearby. Bright August heat radiated off the metal stock panels. She leaned her arms on one of the rails anyway and fought the urge to jerk back from the scorch of hot steel against her bare skin.

The dense, sweet scent of horse sweat permeated the air, blending agreeably with her pineapple-scented sunscreen. Mia’s arms absorbed, and adjusted, to the heat from the rail.

Always let the man speak first.

As antiquated as that piece of Papa-Pete advice was, Mia took it anyway. She remained silent and assessed the ten broncs mulling about, scuffling and stirring up dust inside the pen. Some were sleek, regal creatures, with the appearance of tame, honest saddle horses – like Lady, the gentle palomino from her childhood. Others had scarred, rough coats, and a rogue glint in their eyes, as though they’d just as soon throw and stomp a rider as look at him. If the cowboy leaning on the rail beside her was a horse, Mia wondered which sort he’d be.

He was someone Justin, Skye’s bareback-bronc-riding boyfriend knew. Well, kinda, sorta knew through a friend of a friend.

“He’s a bronc rider, too, Justin’s met him before. Heard he’s a good guy, he just can’t for sure remember his name…Trapper…Hunter… something like that,” Skye had told Mia yesterday when trying, yet again, to talk her into going along to the rodeo today.

Mia hadn’t wanted to come, didn’t want to be a third wheel to Justin and Skye and their perpetual hand holding, kissing, and pet name calling. She loved Skye like a sister, but all the lovey-dovey stuff made Mia uncomfortable. And maybe just a teeny bit envious.  

When Mia mentioned her reluctance at being a tag along, Skye took it on as a challenge to find Mia a date. “He’s single. And he’s hot,” Skye had said about the bronc rider, trying to sway her.

So, after much coaxing and coercing, and with the promise of meeting a decent, attractive guy, Mia finally relented.

Justin and Skye were on the other side of the rodeo grounds trying to locate Hunter, or Trapper, or whatever this cowboy’s name happened to be. But it was Mia, by herself, who tracked him down first. She felt a glow of accomplishment. Although now that she’d found him standing in the dust-moated sunlight, she wasn’t exactly sure what to do, or what to say. Especially since she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure this was even the right cowboy.

~Author Bio~

Danita Cahill is an award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest newspapers, and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different magazines. She has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has self-published five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita lives in the Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals, including a herd of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring for her gardens, critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine assignments and her next book projects.

Visit Danita’s author page:

http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/

Find Danita on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill

Follow Danita on Twitter: @DanitaCahill

If you’d like to subscribe to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book signings, appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: danita@centurylink.net and put “newsletter” in the subject line.