A Cowboy's Touch Quotes

“Guess you’ll be going back to school, getting a part-time job . . .” “Something like that.” He gazed lovingly into her eyes. “You know, Montana State isn’t far from my place. And I know a little girl who’d like her nanny back.” His invitation made her smile. “That sounds appealing.” But she wanted so much more. His eyes, the color of faded denim, were the softest of caresses. “Much as Maddy liked you as her nanny, she was really hoping for a mom.” There was a question in his eyes. Something bubbled up inside, something that felt like joy and peace and rightness all blended into one happy cocktail. “Really?” She felt the fresh sting of tears. Abigail ran her thumb over his lower lip. He pressed a kiss to the pad of her thumb. “The position comes with a husband, though. Guy used to be a big-shot celebrity; now he’s just a humble rancher.” She smiled through her tears. “I like humble ranchers.” Wade had never looked more serious. “I’m talking about forever, Abby. Marriage and Maddy and ranching, maybe even another baby or two . . .” “Only two?” “You’d have to move to the back of beyond. Leave your home, your city, your family . . .” She shook her head. “The whole time I’ve been in Chicago, all I thought about was being back in Moose Creek with you and Maddy. It’s all I want.” She framed his face. “You’re all I want.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“He remembered the way she looked wearing his hat, remembered the warmth of her in his arms as they danced, their first kiss in the barn when he’d been rocked by the riot she’d caused inside him. There was nothing he didn’t remember. Including the way she looked at him, like he hung the moon and the stars. It was the look Dylan referred to, the one that convinced his friend her feelings were real. Wade would give anything to have her here now, looking at him like that.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“You know, you weren’t all that happy with Lizzie,” Dylan said. “Not really. Not like you were with Abigail.” “It wasn’t real. Not to her.” “That night at the Chuckwagon when you danced with her—the way she looked at you? I was jealous, man. For the first time in a long time . . . I wanted that too.” “That’s real rich, coming from you.” “I may run through women like a bull through barbed wire, but I’m smart enough to know this: you don’t throw away something like that.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Upstairs, right now,” Wade said. “You need a nap.” “No, I don’t, I’m—” A deep yawn cut off her words. He held up his hand. “Don’t want to hear it.” “Better do it,” Maddy added. “When he uses that voice, there’s no changing his mind.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Woman, you’re killing me.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Maddy asked about us,” Abigail said as she snuggled under his arm. They’d been careful to save the displays of affection for when they were alone, even though she knew Wade had told his daughter they had affectionate feelings for each other. “What’d you say?” “That I like you very much.” She nudged him in the side. “That so?” She curled her arm around his waist and dropped her head on his shoulder. “And here I thought I’d been so obvious.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Wade pulled his gaze from hers before he got stuck there again, then retrieved his hat from where it had fallen. He set it on Abigail’s head and looked at her appreciatively. She made one heck of a cowgirl. “You were born to wear that thing.” “A little big.” He gazed at her face, loving the planes and curves that were becoming so familiar. “Fits just right.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Know what you do to me, city girl?” The question seemed to ease her mind. The corner of her lips curled up. “Good to know.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“He leaned in, and she came to him willingly. She was soft and pliable. She touched the hair at his nape, and he shivered. He pulled her closer, and she fit like a missing puzzle piece, right into his chest. Right into his heart.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“And then he was gone. Gone in so many ways. Not just lost in the moment, but lost in Abigail. She’d come into his home and found her way into his boarded-up heart. She’d pulled off the sheets, dusted the corridors, and let the sun in again. It felt good. He felt alive. She made him feel alive.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Stop it,” he whispered. “Stop what?” “Looking at me like that.” “I’m trying to figure you out.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Thought you weren’t coming with him,” Wade said. She darted a glance at him, but he was looking over her head. “Thought you didn’t care.” “I don’t.” “Good.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“His hat nudged her forehead, tipping back as he deepened the kiss and drew her closer. His jaw was rough against her palm, and she savored the feel of it before slipping her fingers through the soft waves at his nape and straight up through the back of his hair. His hat hit the ground. “Abby . . .” he whispered. It was a plea, and she gladly answered it with her mouth. She loved the raspy drawl of her shortened name on his lips.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“His arm moved around her, then he lowered his head, tipped her chin. His lips moved across hers as softly as butterfly wings, tasting, testing. She trembled in response. She hadn’t known he was capable of such gentleness. It only endeared him to her more.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Wait, Abigail.” Dylan wiped his tool on his rag. “You like country music?” She could see where this was headed. “Not really. More of a classical music gal myself.” “Give me a chance to win you over. We have a great local band, the Silver Spurs, and they’re playing at the Chuckwagon Saturday.” “Marla’s brother’s band. Tina from Mocha Moose told me about them.” “You’re getting around.” Not in the way he hoped. “I like meeting people.” She knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as she said it. “Then come with me Saturday. Everyone from town’ll be there, and it’ll give you a chance to hang out with the home crowd.” He winked. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. Have fun, though.” She turned toward the house. “I won’t give up, you know,” he called, teasing. “I’m getting that impression.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“It was terrible, what happened to your wife. But you can’t let that keep you from living.” “I am living.” He was just doing it alone. Just him and Maddy. “Most men wouldn’t call it living,” she said. “Most men wouldn’t make it a year.” “Most men don’t have my self-control.” “How do you do it?” “I don’t touch.” He set his jaw. Couldn’t believe he’d let that slip out. Judging by her look, she couldn’t either. “Not at all?” What was that in her tone? Compassion? Pity? Great, just what he wanted.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“You hire people to do the things a mother would do. If you found someone you loved, it would remove a burden, not add to it.” “You applying for the job?” Abigail sputtered on a sip of milk. Look who was blushing now. He probably shouldn’t have said it, but she’d asked for it. He was feeling a little uncomfortable himself after the leading question—what if she said yes? “No . . .” Abigail said after recovering from her coughing spell. “I am not applying for the job. Sheesh. Clearly a touchy subject.” “Very discerning.” She made a face that reminded him of the one Maddy made when she was about to stick out her tongue.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“You’re blushing.” Daggonit. “Cowboys don’t blush.” “Au contraire.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“What is it with men and their trucks anyway?” Her green eyes twinkled. Her teasing boosted his spirits, and he told himself it was just the pleasure of friendship. “We get attached. Perfectly normal.” “It’s a chunk of steel. Well, steel and rust, in your case.” “Hey . . . below the belt.” Abigail shrugged. “Call it like I see it.” Her full smile was dazzling. There was no other word for it. Wade couldn’t look away if he wanted to. And he didn’t.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“We’ve got eggs and stuff. I could make an omelet. I skipped dinner too.” “You cook?” “Cowboys have many hidden talents.” Omelets were the only thing he cooked, but she didn’t have to know that.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“It make any kind of noises?” “What?” “The truck, before it died.” “Oh. It sort of went klunk, klunk, klunk, gave one last shudder, then it was gone. You know, it’s none of my business, but you could kind of use a new one.” “She’s a workin’ truck.” “Well, she ain’t really workin’,” Abigail said in her best Texas drawl. Wade smirked. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Did you two have an argument?” He gave his daughter a look. “No, we did not. Finish your supper.” He was sure Abigail was looking at him now. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead. He wished the meal were over. Why had he loaded down his plate? And why had he initiated the clean-your-plate rule with Maddy? “ ’Cause it was just like this last summer when Miss Greta and Mr. Pee Wee had that argument over his new truck. They wouldn’t even look at each—” Wade gave Maddy a stern look. “What . . . ?” Maddy’s eyes widened. Abigail’s lips twitched. He pressed his lips together, drilled Maddy with a look. “Eat your supper.” Maddy looked contrite. “Sorry.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Gonna start calling you Grace.” She lifted her chin. “You saying I’m clumsy?” Wade shrugged. “Saying you’ve been here two minutes, and you’ve already dropped a sparkler and tripped over your own feet— unless that was on purpose.” Abigail frowned. Wade cringed. Now why’d he have to go and say that? “Why would I—” Her lips pursed. “I did not trip on purpose. I was mortified, if you must know.” “Makes no difference to me.” Wade wiped his boot on the grass and got resituated. “If I were interested in Dylan, I’d go out with him—he’s asked more than once, you know.” A twinge of jealousy flared. He didn’t know Dylan had pursued that hard. “Like I said, no difference to me.” Abigail frowned and looked away. He’d done it now. Managed to take things a couple levels past awkward. He really had a way with ladies. Stretching his legs in front of him, he looked skyward. The display could start anytime now. Anytime. Was he really so incapable of making conversation with a woman? So out of practice? He shooed a mosquito from his face. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t just any woman. It was Abigail, daggonit. She did something to him that didn’t need doing. If she’d just keep her distance and stick to her job, everything would be just dandy. But no, every time he turned around, there she was.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Abigail’s foot caught on something and she stumbled, pitching forward. Dylan, who was closer, reached out and caught her. Abigail straightened, her eyes averted. “Sorry,” she said, pulling away from him. “You can fall into my arms anytime you like.” Dylan winked.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Get some ice on that.” “I will.” She turned toward the house, steady enough. “You get nauseated or have blurry vision, tell Greta.” Abigail started to nod, then checked the motion. He hoped she wouldn’t overdo it. He’d known one too many cowboys to take a fall, keep working, then keel over later. “Lie down and take it easy,” Wade called. “Yes, Dad,” Abigail said saucily. Wade clamped his lips together. Last thing he wanted was Abigail thinking fatherly thoughts of him. Heaven knew, his own weren’t going that direction.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“I can’t reach the stirrups,” Abigail said. “Don’t need to. Scoot forward and make room.” He put his foot in the stirrup. “For what?” Swinging his leg over, he settled behind Abigail. “Oh.” She squirmed forward, but only got so far. She finally settled in the cradle of his thighs in a way he found most disturbing.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch

“Wade worked his rope, readying it for the next calf, telling himself he didn’t care if Abigail had fallen for Dylan’s charm, didn’t care if they were going out tomorrow night, didn’t care if they got hitched and had a passel of kids. Dylan was slipping on the gloves Maddy had fetched as he passed Wade. “Must be losing my touch,” he mumbled. Wade smothered the grin that fought for release.”
― Denise Hunter, A Cowboy's Touch