A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4) (11 page)

Travis's lips pressed together, and his jaw became hard.

"My mom died when I was eleven. She was found in a motel room, naked, with assorted drugs in her system." She didn't want him to say anything. She just wanted to unload it. "My grandmother took in me and my sister, but she was old. She couldn't protect us from what people said or thought about us."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "My sister got pregnant at age sixteen, a month after my mom died. She got an abortion, and then died in a drunk driving accident a year later. According to her, she'd slept with forty-seven guys by the time she was seventeen, but I have no idea if that's true or not." She stared past Travis at a blank spot on the wall, remembering the shame she'd felt at her sister's funeral. So few people had come, and those who'd bothered to show up had come to judge her, to gossip about the little sister, to wonder how many boys I'd already slept with. "I decided I would never have sex with anyone. Ever. I wouldn't be like that, you know? I wouldn't give the town anything to use against me."

She inadvertently glanced at Travis, and her throat tightened when she saw him nodding, listening intently. There was no judgment on his face. No condemnation. "I was going to be an engineer," she said. "I wanted to be something as far from a dumb, useless female as I could get. I worked really hard. I never dated. I got a full ride to MIT..." She sighed. "I met Rand the summer before my senior year, but my plans never changed. I was still going to go to MIT, but he started to win me over." She bit her lip. "He courted me. He was a star athlete at the school, and he decided he wanted me. He was a perfect gentleman, he listened to me, and he made me feel like I mattered. He didn't seem to care what anyone thought of him dating me."

She bit her lip. "We dated for eleven months before we had sex. It was the night of our graduation. He said he was going to propose as soon as he got his first paycheck from bull riding. I thought I'd found my forever man." God, how stupid she'd been. How naïve. "I got pregnant. When he found out, he said he needed time..." She bit her lip. "The next day, he left me a voicemail that he didn't want a kid dragging him down just when he was getting started on his bull riding career. He...left. He just...left."

She would never forget the shock of watching him drive away, leaving her pregnant and abandoned. She'd thought he was going to propose. Instead, he'd walked away, and he'd never looked back.

Not once.

Not until today.

Not until she'd finally met someone else who made her want to feel again.

She looked at Travis, listening, watching, and she knew that she was falling for him. Falling for another cowboy who would leave. Who would walk away.

Just like before.

A
s he listened
to Lissa's story, anger fermented inside Travis, the same, dark anger that had haunted him his entire life. He wanted to punch every one of those bastards who'd treated her like shit and made her feel ashamed of who she was.

He knew now why she'd moved to Rogue Valley. Self-preservation. She'd had to escape the judgment and the grief. They'd forced her to move away, to give up her childhood town to save herself and her daughter. Self-righteous, pretentious bastards.

How in the hell had she done it? She'd been a kid herself, and she'd managed to start her life in a new town, with a kid, and a broken heart. He could see by the expression on her face, that she didn't see how amazing she was. She was remembering the judgment and the betrayal, not feeling the power that she'd harnessed to survive.

Fuck them. No one had the right to make her feel like that. Scowling, he leaned forward. "Listen to me, Lissa. Those people don't mean shit. Forget about them. Forget about Rand. You're absolutely fucking amazing, and don't ever forget it."

Her eyes widened, and he realized how violent he sounded. His hands were balled in fists, and his muscles were tensed, ready to fight. He knew that if Rand showed up at the door right now, he'd beat the hell out of him. He'd break every rule he'd ever made about not letting his temper win, of not being like his old man.

"Sorry." Swearing, he stood up and backed away. He couldn't stay in that apartment any more. He was too pissed, too jacked up by revisiting his own past, and by hearing about hers. He always had difficulty with people, but right now, he hated them all, every last one of them, except Lissa, whoever was taking care of her kid, and his own brothers. "I gotta go."

He strode past her to the door that led to the outside, and grabbed the doorknob—

"Wait."

He froze as she put her hand on his arm, her touch so light and gentle that he could barely feel it through the hardness of his taut muscles. He didn't turn around. He just kept facing the door. "Lissa," he said, his voice strained. "I need to get out of here." He needed to get to his tour bus and his punching bag. His anger was too strong, poisoning him. He'd never touched a drink in his life, but his anger was a legacy of his dad's that he hadn't been able to shake. He'd never touched anyone in anger, ever, but it was always there, always close, always taunting him. He was scared shitless every single day that today was the day he'd become like his old man.

But Lissa didn't let him go. She just slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back. Travis swore and let his forehead rest against the door. He couldn't make himself push her away. It just felt too good to have her holding him. As they stood there, some of his anger began to recede, lulled away by her undemanding embrace.

With a low groan, he finally turned and pulled her into his arms, just like they'd done the prior night in her kitchen. It was different this time, though. Last night, they'd still been virtual strangers. Tonight, they'd stared into each other's darkness, which changed the embrace completely.

Lissa sank against him, not hesitating at all as their bodies meshed. She tucked her face into the curve of his neck, her arms tight around his waist. Travis locked her against him, his forearm angled between her shoulder blades, his hand deep in her hair, while his other arm was tight around her waist, his face nestled in her hair.

He could feel her breasts against his chest, and, like some asshole guy, his cock got hard in response. After the story she'd just told, how the
hell
could he be thinking of sex right now? She needed a friend, not a guy pawing at her. But at the same time, she also needed to know that physical affection with a man didn't mean she should be condemned and ashamed.

He understood now why her
Wildflower Café
tee shirt was several sizes too big, and why her jeans were baggy. She was trying to hide the fact she was a woman, both from the world and from herself. It fucking pissed him off that she hid herself like that.

"You're getting tense again," she said, her face still tucked in the curve of his neck. "What are you thinking about?"

"That I'm pissed that you're ashamed of being a woman. That you crush your femininity because of a bunch of bastards."

She stiffened. "I'm not ashamed. I just need to stay focused—"

"Liar." He pulled back, searching her upturned face, her brown eyes, her perfect mouth. God, she was beautiful. She had no makeup on. Her hair was tangled. Her curves were hidden by baggy clothes. And, without a doubt, she was the sexiest woman he'd ever met. Desire pulsed through him, a raw, visceral desire that seemed to come from the deepest core of his being. Not just sex, but a need to protect her, to shield her from all the ugliness in the world. Somehow, if he could save her, he felt like it would give him something to anchor to, something to hold onto when he started slipping into the darkness. "I—" Shit. No. He wasn't going to say it.

"You what?"

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "You need to sleep. I'll take the couch—"

She didn't move. "You what?"

He met her gaze. "You don't want to know, sweetheart. Trust me."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "Travis. You're looking at me in a way no one has ever looked at me. You make me feel...safe. Protected. Like I matter. I know that this thing between us doesn't matter, because you're leaving, but—"

"Doesn't matter?" He gripped her arms, furious that he'd somehow made her believe she didn't mean anything, that he thought of her the way all those other scumbags had. "Of course this matters. You think that just because I leave town in a week that this moment doesn't matter?" He dropped to his knees before her, shattered by the fact that somehow he'd made her think it didn't matter. "How in hell's name do I make you understand how much this matters? How much you matter?" He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft curves. "I haven't cared about anything in a long time. I've been shut down my whole life, always running, always trying to find that place that won't hurt so fucking much." He stared up at her. "Don't you get it? That place I've been trying to find is you. Every minute around you shines a light into the darkest places in my soul. You make the anger that haunts me recede. You make me feel like I have a chance not to fall into the legacy that defines me and my brothers. Every fucking minute with you matters. Every second. Every touch. Every word. Everything."

She stared down at him, her mouth open in surprise.

Shit. He'd said too much. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was losing his shit—

She sank to her knees in front of him, so she was level with him.

He went still, his heart thundering violently as she stared at him. She was so close to him, so close he could almost feel her in his arms. Need burned through him, a need so strong it almost hurt. He wanted to lose himself in her, surrender to her, offer her everything he had to give, little as it was.

"Travis." She framed his face with her hands, her palms warm against his cheeks. "You're a beautiful man," she whispered.

He closed his eyes. He knew she wasn't talking about his looks. She was talking about the deeper side of him, the part he knew was black, tainted, and dangerous. "There's no beauty inside me," he whispered. "I wish there was—"

She pressed a kiss to his lips.

He froze, stunned, shocked, and almost overwhelmed by the need to haul her against him and plunder her until there was nothing left of the darkness in either of them, until desire, lust, and connection had destroyed every shadow lurking over them both.

But he didn't move.

He'd never try to seduce her, to take her, not after the past she'd endured. No matter how badly he wanted her, he would never—

She kissed him again, angling her head, her lips parting against his.

He groaned softly, his fists bunched by his side. "Don't do this, Lissa."

"Why not?" She feathered a kiss along the corner of his mouth. "I want to. I want this. With you."

He grasped her shoulders and gently set her back. "Lissa," he rasped out, his voice hoarse and raw with need. "If you kiss me, it's going to unleash something inside me that I'm not going to be able to control. I already want to make love to you until there's no space in your memories or your mind for anyone but me. I want to worship your body. I want to teach you what it feels like to be valued. I want to erase all the crap still haunting you until you realize exactly how incredible you are."

"I need that, too," she whispered. "I've been afraid my whole life. Afraid of men. Afraid of dating. Afraid of wanting a man. Afraid of any of it. I know you're leaving. I know what we have isn't forever. I know you have to leave, but I need to feel the way you make me feel, even if it's just for a night."

He closed his eyes, praying for strength he didn't have. "I won't be like Rand. I won't make love to you and then walk away—"

"Hey!" The anger in her voice made him open his eyes. She was glaring at him. "Don't ever say you're like Rand. We both know you're not."

Shit. She was right, at least on some levels. "I'd never make a promise I couldn't keep," he agreed. "But you deserve those kinds of promises. I can't make them."

She rolled her eyes, a decidedly adorable dismissal of his argument. "I know, I know, you can't promise forever because you're leaving town, and all that. I'm okay with that. Good, actually, because I don't have time for a relationship because I'm not willing to sacrifice my work or my daughter, so it's fine—"

"No. You don't understand." He caught her face in his hands, just as she'd done to him. "Even if I wasn't leaving, I couldn't make those promises. I don't have the capacity for a relationship. I didn't when I left here originally, and now? I'm even more fucked up. I don't even have the capacity to connect with my brothers anymore. I'm broken, Lissa. Completely fucking broken." He grimaced, almost wishing he'd learned different lessons in his life, so he could be a different guy kneeling in Lissa's living room. But he wasn't. "I've got nothing to offer you, Lissa, nothing but some naked, sweaty time with a guy who will never stop thinking about you for the rest of his life."

She encircled his wrists with her fingers, a light touch that trapped him as completely as iron shackles would have. "I'm broken, too, Travis. I'm barely holding together. Maybe we can give each other what we need to survive our lives. Maybe you were sent to my café for a reason other than cooking burgers."

He wanted to kiss her, to make love to her, to lose himself in what they could become together. God, he wanted to, and that fact alone was an incredible gift. It shocked him how much he wanted to make love to her. He knew it was because Lissa wanted nothing from him. Nothing at all, except to matter. "You matter to me," he whispered, sliding his hands through her hair around to the back of her head. "I have nothing to offer you except myself, for this moment."

"I know," she gripped the front of his shirt. "But I need how you make me feel, Travis. I need this with you." She raised herself on her knees and kissed him again.

He closed his eyes, fighting not to respond, when every cell in his body was screaming for release. "I can't be the man you deserve."

"But maybe you can be the man I need," she whispered against his mouth.

The man she needed? Someone who would make her realize how incredible she was? A man who would teach her that making love could be beautiful and honorable, not something to hide in shame? God, he wanted to be that man. He wanted to restore faith to her, to heal the wounds that she'd been carrying for so long. Could he do that? He wanted to. "I don't know how—"

"Just be you." She slid her arms around his neck. "Just be the man who cooks burgers, stands behind me when my ex shows up, and sees beauty in junkyard paintings." Then she kissed him again, hard, demanding, desperate, vulnerable.

It was her vulnerability that got him. She was scared to reach out, scared to tap into her feminine side, scared to give him access to herself. Protectiveness surged through him, and he knew she was right. He'd been meant to come to her café, not to flip burgers, but to protect her, to use the anger and fury fermenting inside him to keep her safe, to do something good, for once in his life.

"I won't betray you," he whispered into the kiss, as his hands sank into her luxurious hair. "I promise you that."

"I know."

Her absolute conviction undid him. No one had ever given him such trust or believed in him. He'd bared almost all of his crap to her, and yet she still had complete faith that there was goodness inside him. "
Lissa.
" With a low growl, he gave up the battle, and he took over the kiss.