A Real Cowboy Knows How to Kiss (14 page)

The house looked over the three barns, which were all well-kept and impressive. A sizeable bunkhouse sat behind the barns, sunk lower behind a hill. It had no scenic view, except of the immediate area, but she still felt the immense peace of the place. In the distance, she could see animals grazing, bound by rustic wooden fences and some wire ones. Beyond the ranch, she could see the driveway leading down toward the road, but from her vantage point, she couldn't see the road. All she could see was land, animals, and the ranch buildings.

She took a deep breath, and she felt the frantic pace of her heart slow, eased by the sheer magnitude of peace that the earth seemed to breathe into her. It was pure simplicity. No fancy cars. No standards to live up to. No one who cared about anything other than taking care of animals and living from the earth.

She inhaled again, and this time, for the first time in what felt like years, she felt her lungs expand fully, taking in air that she'd never had room for.

Behind her came the steady rhythm of hoof beats, but she didn't turn around. She also didn't try to run away.

Steen rode up beside her, and reined in to a halt beside her. He said nothing, but sat astride, surveying the same vista that she was looking at it.

"It's beautiful," she said finally. "I can't believe you live here. I can feel all my stress melting away."

"The bunkhouse is just temporary," he said. "This hill we're on is my hill. If I want to build a house here, this is my spot."

She looked over at him, surprised by his comment. "
If
you want to build here? Why wouldn't you?"

He said nothing for a long moment, still staring across the field. "Because I don't belong. This is my brother's place."

She frowned. "He doesn't want you to live here?"

"No, he does. He wants all the Stockton brothers to set up homesteads. He wants us all to live together as a happy family."

She couldn't decipher the inflection of his words, and she studied his face, trying to understand what he wasn't saying. "You don't want to?"

He finally looked at her. "I didn't grow up with them. I was never a part of the group. Chase has always reached out to me, and I trust him, but I don't know the others. It's not my right to live here."

The defensive shield she'd erected so quickly around her heart seemed to weaken at his words. "It seems to me if Chase believes you have a right to live here, then you might."

"No." He took a deep breath. "I need to stay away from them for the same reason I need to stay away from you. I'm not a good guy."

She turned her horse so she could face him, her heart starting to pound. "And why do you say that?"

He met her gaze, and she saw the tension in his jaw. "My goal was to rebuild you, not hurt you, Erin. That's all that matters to me. If my withholding of the truth hurts you, then it's not the right decision." He took a deep breath, and she knew suddenly that he was going to tell her. He didn't want to, but he was going to.

And that was enough.

She held up her hand to stop him. "It's okay, Steen. I don't need to know."

His brow furrowed. "You do need to know—"

"No, I don't." She urged her horse over to him. "I know how much you don't want to tell me, but you're willing to do it to make me feel better." She put her hand on his cheek, wanting to take away all the pain in his eyes. "Am I so pathetic that I need to torment you just so I can feel better?" As she said the words, she felt a rising strength within her, a self-confidence she hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. "I know how you feel about me. I don't need a secret to believe in you." And she knew she was right. Steen was who he was, and she believed in him. "You don't ask me to be who I'm not, so I'm not going to ask you to betray yourself."

His eyes narrowed. "You're leaving, aren't you? You're not staying tonight."

"I'm leaving in ten days."

"I meant with me. You're not staying with me, tonight. That's why you're letting me off the hook. Because you've already walked away emotionally."

"Steen—"

"I was in prison, Erin. I was in prison for four years."

Her stomach dropped and her blood ran cold. "What?"

"The day I ran into you when your car broke down, Chase had just picked me up from prison." He gestured at the blue sky. "I haven't seen the sky in four years. I hadn't been able to make my own choice about where I go, what I eat, or when I sleep for four years. I'm on parole. I'm still not free. I can't leave the state. I have to get a job and report in, like a fucking kid who might get in trouble if he's not kept busy." His eyes were blazing. "I'm an ex-con, Erin, and I always will be."

She felt like she was going to throw up. Steen had been in prison? "For what? Why were you in there?" There had to be an explanation. Something that made sense.

"Attempted murder."

Steen steeled himself as he watched Erin's face blanch in response to his undiplomatic announcement. She looked like she was going to pass out. Shit. He really wished he'd learned tact at some point in his life.

"Attempted murder?" she echoed, her voice faint. "Who?"

He gritted his teeth, but he was committed now. "You remember Rachel?" God, he hated to say the words. He hated to relive that moment. But it would haunt him forever. He'd relived it every day for the last four years. Saying it aloud wouldn't bring back the memories. The memories were always there, at the front of his mind. But saying it aloud would reveal it to Erin, and that…shit…that just felt really, really bad.

Her jaw dropped open. "You tried to murder
her
?"

Shocked ripped through him. "Shit, no. Is that what you think of me? You think I'd try to murder a woman?"

Her eyes widened. "No, of course not, but you just said—"

"Her husband," he clarified. This was unraveling fast. Shit. He had no idea how to handle this. "You remember when I said that her husband caught us?"

She nodded mutely, her eyes wide.

"Well, when he walked into the hotel room and found us together, he was pissed, drunk, and carrying a knife." Hell, he remembered every detail of that night.

Erin's hand went to her heart. "A knife? What kind of knife?"

"The kind you use if you're some commando wannabe who thinks he's a badass." He could still remember the size of the blade as it slashed toward him. He'd never forget the drunken howl of rage as the bastard took a swipe, or the feel of the metal plunging into his shoulder as he ducked. "He went right for my throat. I dodged it, but he hit my shoulder." He instinctively touched the scar, a visceral reminder of how stupid he'd been to trust Rachel when she'd invited him back to her room. He'd been so unaware of what was about to happen, completely clueless that she'd left the door open for the sole reason of getting caught by her husband, just to pay him back for cheating on her. He'd been used, and he'd had no fucking idea until it was too late. "He came after me again, but when I deflected the blow, I knocked him down. His knife hit his neck and sliced
his
jugular." He would never forget the scent of blood, or how bright red it was. There had been so much blood. The screams of Rachel, and the way her husband's breath had started to gurgle—

"Steen." Erin touched his arm, jerking him back to the present. "Are you okay?"

He stared at her hand on his arm. She was touching him. On purpose. Even though she knew what he'd done. He dragged his gaze off her hand and looked at her. "They said I had attacked him. Rachel said I tricked her into letting me into the hotel room, and that I was sexually assaulting her. She claimed her husband heard me in the hall, and he broke in to save his wife. They said it was my knife, and I attacked him without provocation. They both testified that I went to her room to punish her for rejecting me at the bar earlier that evening. It was their testimony that made the jury not believe my self-defense plea. Four years in prison."

And that was it. The truth. The entire, ugly truth.

Erin removed her hand from his. "How did you get stabbed this last time? That happened in prison, right?"

He frowned, trying to follow her questioning. Why had she changed the subject? Why wasn't she peppering him with questions, challenging his slant of the story? He shrugged noncommittally. "I stepped in front of a knife. Bad timing."

She cocked her head, studying him. "What really happened, Steen?"

He gritted his jaw. "A new kid was targeted. It was his first day, and I knew he had no defense. I was getting out soon, and I didn't give a shit if I died. So, I took the hit for him."

Her eyes widened. "You stepped in front of the knife and let the guy stab you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, someone had to help the kid."

"No, no one had to. You just did." She took a breath, and let it out. "Okay."

He frowned. "Okay, what?"

"I'll stay with you tonight."

It took a full minute for her words to register. "What?"

She managed a half-smile, though her eyes were still wary. "I believe it was self-defense with Rachel's husband, Steen. I was on the receiving end of her barbs enough times to know she very well could be the kind of person to lie on a witness stand to exonerate herself, so the conviction means nothing to me. I believe
you.
I'm so incredibly sorry that she betrayed you like that, and then left you to rot in prison. It's not fair. It's wrong. I know nothing I say can change the fact you had to endure it, but it's still wrong."

He felt something tighten in his chest, and for a minute, he had trouble breathing. There was no acrimony or judgement in her words, and her hand was still on his arm. She knew he was an ex-con, imprisoned for attempted murder, and
she was still touching him.
"You don't care?"

"Of course I care." She moved her horse closer. "I am so sorry that you endured that. And I'm so sorry you almost died. But I'm so glad that you were able to save the life of that man, whose family is probably very happy they didn't get a phone call that someone they loved died that day. Maybe you were meant to be there. Maybe you had to be in prison because he had to be saved. He's a good guy, isn't he? The man you saved?"

Somehow, it didn't surprise him that Erin would assume a prison inmate might be a "good guy." And she was right. "Yeah, he is." He thought of the kid's dad. "His family was glad he was okay," he admitted, mulling over her words. He'd never thought of it that way. He'd never considered the fact that Pointer would be dead now if he hadn't been in prison. It was weird to consider that, although he didn't exactly buy into the fact that he had been destined to save him all along.

Erin smiled then, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I believe in you, Steen. Build your house here. Make a home. You deserve it."

Build your house here.
God, the words were too much. She actually believed he belonged here, that he deserved to call this place home. "Erin." Her name was a throaty whisper as he wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her off her horse onto his lap. She snuggled into him immediately. Her body was soft and warm against his, and she felt so damn right in his arms. "You have to go home," he said, even as he threaded his fingers through her hair, pressing his face into the curve of her shoulder, inhaling the scent he would always associate with her: that delicate flowery scent that was too elusive to identify. "You would never fit in here."

She lifted her face to his. "I'm a vet, Steen. I do animals. Isn't a ranch exactly where I might fit?"

Something seemed to stick in his chest, a memory of so long ago when his mother had made a promise to always be there, and then she'd disappeared. A familiar shield tightened around his chest. "Don't make promises, Erin. We both know we're a couple of broken people right now, and we're helping each other. But that's short term. When you heal, and you realize how amazing you are, life with an ex-con isn't going to sound so good."

Her brow furrowed. "Steen—"

"No." He put his finger over her lips. "Don't make any promises." He'd believed in Rachel when they were in high school, and he'd sure as hell believed in her when he'd run into her five years ago. He didn't want promises from Erin, because they hurt when they were broken. Erin wouldn't mean to break her promise, but she would, because there was no way she would be able to live his life, with the stigma he'd carry forever. "Just make it about today. That's all I want."

She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. Today then." She draped her arms around his neck. "I have to go get my stuff. I'll be back early evening. Sound good?"

Good? A warmth began to spread through him, a deep satisfaction he hadn't felt in a very long time. "Yeah. It does." He kissed her again, not a long one, just enough to make a statement.

A statement that he was going to keep her, for as long as she was willing to stay.

And then, he was going to let her go, even if it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done in his life.

"We're going on a date."

At Steen's announcement, Erin looked up from filing the last notes from the day's patients in Josie's antiquated filing cabinets. There were no electronic files here, which Erin actually found sort of refreshing. She was so accustomed to a life of gleaming medical equipment and patients worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was such a shift to be dealing with animals who simply lived with the people who owned them, animals who mattered for reasons other than as a million dollar investment. She'd spent the morning driving to assorted ranches, and the afternoon had been spent in office hours. She'd seen three large mixed-breed dogs, a Chihuahua, a gecko, and sixteen cats, the latter of which had all been owned by the same woman. She was really hoping the cat lady wasn't a warning from the universe about what her future held now that she was divorced and hopelessly infatuated with a man who had absolutely zero interest in pursuing anything long term.