Cowboy Heaven (8 page)

Troy left my bed as soon as his dick was soft and I didn't see him again for nearly four days. He'd said not to expect him every night, but after that much time had passed, I was beginning to get slightly perturbed. On the other hand, perhaps it was Rufus's fault for working him so hard he truly needed the sleep.

I tried to keep to my usual routine and not make it too obvious I was going out to the barn or the bunkhouse, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. As a result, I
didn't
see him. The way things were going, unless absence truly did make the heart grow fonder, there was absolutely no danger of falling in love with Troy.

Dusty, on the other hand, seemed to be hanging around all the time. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said he'd broken his leg on purpose so he would be in the barn whenever I went out to check on Goldie or decided to go for a ride. The idea seemed preposterous—unless Troy had been right about him.

Anytime I was out with the horses, Dusty came over to talk with me. He never said or did anything that might lead me to believe he felt anything more for me than any of the other men on the ranch, but, except for the sex, he was as attentive as my boy toy should have been. He saddled my horse and offered to do other chores I could easily have done myself. I couldn't remember him ever doing that before—even since his accident. Perhaps he was bored and lonely, and since I was the only one around aside from the horses for the greater part of the day, it was either talk to me or go crazy. After a while I began to suspect he was only helping me to avoid going near the kitchen, thus making it harder for him to get drafted as Calvin's assistant.

During that time, I toyed with the idea of trying to communicate with Troy in some manner, but I couldn't come up with any safe, reliable way to do it. Cody and I had our own code for such things, although we were usually in the same room when we used it, and we'd also had plenty of time alone to discuss the details beforehand. We even had a few things that would work over the phone. Since Troy and I hadn't talked about it, I couldn't very well go down to the bunkhouse and crease his blanket in a special way and have him know what it meant.

On the fourth day, however, I went to the bunkhouse anyway.

After checking out Troy's “room,” I concluded he must've been satisfied with the way we'd fixed things up for him on that first day because nothing looked the slightest bit different. Opening a cabinet door at random, I succumbed to temptation, taking his bottle of cologne out for a sniff—although I probably could have buried my face in his pillow, which would undoubtedly smell every bit as enticing. I toyed with the idea of taking a short nap, breathing in the scent of Troy while I slept, but as I put the bottle back, Dusty came in. The strange thing was, he didn't seem to be the least bit surprised—or pleased—to find me there. He stopped short for a moment, his shoulders sagging as though weighted down with disappointment. Instead of a smile, all I got for my hello was a perfunctory wave as he limped over to his bunk.

For him to seem unfriendly was out of character—he'd been talking my ear off for days—unless he was in pain. “Is your leg bothering you?”

He sat down heavily in the easy chair next to his bed. “No.”

I'd never heard a shorter “no” in my life—especially from Dusty. Since he obviously didn't feel like talking, I figured I ought to beat a hasty retreat—especially since I was technically trespassing.

Then again, I was second in command on the Circle Bar K, and Troy was a new employee. There were things I had a right—even a need—to know. “Is Troy getting along okay? Has he said anything to you?”

“About what?” Dusty's brusque tone hadn't softened in the slightest.

“Oh, you know,” I said with what I hoped was a casual shrug. “Whether he's happy working here or if he needs anything.”

“Don't worry about him,” Dusty snapped. “He's got everything.”

My first thought was that he and Troy hadn't been getting along very well. That might've explained his surly attitude—although it didn't explain why he would be annoyed with me. The best I could come up with was that he was resentful of Troy, but that
he's got everything
comment had me stumped.

Compared with the rest of the men, Troy had practically nothing. He didn't even have a chair, only his bunk. Dusty, on the other hand, had a nice chair, a lamp, and all sorts of amenities, but a more bleak expression I had yet to see on a man. He looked like someone had just shot his dog.

“Dusty, what on earth is the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, although it was perfectly obvious
something
was wrong.

Several moments passed in silence. Evidently he didn't intend to say anything further.

“I'll head on then.”

I felt like a poacher who'd been caught coming back over the fence—perhaps not on the property at the moment, but with every indication I'd been somewhere I didn't belong. Would he tell Troy I'd been going through his personal possessions? To be honest, I doubted Troy would mind, especially since I'd helped him unpack his things to begin with. There was a slim chance a report of my visit might give Troy the hint I was missing him, although I wasn't counting on it.

I started toward the door saying, as I always did, “You all let me know if you need anything.”

Dusty's mirthless laugh was so steeped in irony it stopped me in my tracks. “Need? I'll tell you what I need. I need to come in here and find you with your nose in
my
cologne—not his.”

My eyes widened in surprise. I didn't think he'd actually seen what I'd done. I had no idea what to say, nor could I believe what he'd just said.

Dusty nodded as though acknowledging my response—or lack thereof. “I guess there's not much chance of that happening. Is there?” He sounded so odd, so unlike his usual self. I wondered if he'd been drinking, although he didn't appear to be drunk. He seemed…hurt.

“Let me get this straight,” I began, no doubt sounding as puzzled as I felt. “You want me to smell your cologne?”

“No,” he replied. “I want you to want to.”

He was talking in riddles, and I couldn't help wondering if I hadn't been right about the drinking. Either he wasn't making very good sense, or I was being inordinately dense.

As a rule, I didn't miss much. For example, I'd known Dusty sometimes wore cologne—although why a working cowboy would bother with it, except maybe on a Saturday night when he went into town, was a mystery. Most of the time the men smelled of sweat, horses, and leather—or tobacco if they happened to be smokers like Bull and Calvin. But cologne? Who was supposed to be enticed by the smell? The horses or the cattle?

Then again, if sniffing his bottle of smelly stuff would get him out of this foul mood, it was probably worth doing. “Okay. Where is it?”

“It's on me,” he replied. “I want you to come close enough to smell it.”

I'd thought about being that close to Dusty before, but knowing Dad and Rufus wouldn't have approved, I'd kept my distance. At the moment, however, Dusty and I were alone. I even had an invitation—to what, exactly, I wasn't sure, but it was an invitation, nonetheless.

I walked over to him and leaned down. “Any particular spot?”

He pointed to the side of his neck. “Here.”

I moved in closer, inhaling deeply. “Nice.”

I already knew that because I'd caught a whiff or two of it before. Except this time it went straight to my brain, setting off a chain of primal chemical reactions. Heat emanated from his body, compounding the effect and making the urge to kiss him nearly impossible to resist.

He reached up and put his hand on the back of my neck. Turning my face toward his, he looked me straight in the eye. “Kiss me, Angela,” he whispered. “Just once. There's nobody here except you and me. No one else will ever know.”

Had he read my mind?
Just
once
, he'd said. Would one kiss be enough to satisfy him—or me? Or would one kiss lead to another and another and another…

Maybe he pulled me, or perhaps I fell, I don't know for sure, but a moment later our lips touched and melted into each other. His kiss was soft and wet and went on and on until my knees threatened to give way beneath me. I wanted to sit in his lap and kiss him until my lips were too chapped to continue. My fingers found the tousled blond curls on the back of his head as his tongue teased my lips. His breath was hot on my cheek and a deep groan accompanied his first thrust into my mouth. Was the rest of him as nice to kiss as this? Was he as tasty as Troy?

My eyes flew open and I pulled away from him.

Troy didn't want to share. He wouldn't like knowing I'd done this. Too bad that wasn't an explanation I could give to Dusty.

Dad wouldn't like it, either. He'd been telling me to steer clear of the hands ever since I was a child, which had bothered my liberal soul a great deal. From a purely business standpoint it made sense, but it was also a level of discrimination I'd never agreed with.

I used to think his attitude stemmed partly from the typical fatherly opinion that no man could ever be worthy of his little girl. However, as time went on, I saw it for the prejudice it truly was. He needed men to run the ranch, and I'm sure he respected their abilities; nevertheless, he still considered them to be a step beneath him. Perhaps he believed that song about not letting your babies grow up to be cowboys—or marry one. In my father's eyes, I was the rancher's daughter, and the men who worked for us simply weren't good enough for me.

I didn't want Dusty to think I shared my father's opinion. Unfortunately, his stricken expression made it clear that was precisely what he believed. I was between a rock and a hard place, and the best thing I could think of was to be honest with him—about my feelings anyway.

“Dammit, Dusty,” I gasped. “Where the hell did that come from? You practically had me crawling into your lap.”

His expression shifted from wide-eyed alarm to a puzzled frown, as though he wasn't absolutely certain my hasty retreat meant what he thought it had. Swallowing with apparent difficulty, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, seeming to savor the flavor I'd left behind. His deep blue eyes caught mine and held them. “I wouldn't have minded that.”

“Yeah, right.” I attempted a giggle, hoping to lighten the mood. “Until I broke your other leg.”

“You wouldn't have hurt me.” His tone never changed, assuring me he had no intention of laughing it off. “Why don't you come back here and try it.”

I stared at him dumbly. Dusty was too young and too damned cute to want me in his lap. It was as unbelievable as it would have been for Troy to say he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Then again, maybe Dusty had decided he wanted to inherit the ranch someday.

Given the position I was in, perhaps Dad had been right. It was hard to tell if a man wanted me for myself or for the ranch, and right now I was just love-starved enough to believe any lie I heard. I'd never realized how vulnerable I was, although my reaction to Troy should have been my first clue.

There had been no masculine interest in me whatsoever after Cody died. Now that Troy was around to stir things up, perhaps Dusty saw him as competition and decided to make a definite play for me—which would explain the increased attention. Dusty had to know I was lonelier now than I'd ever been in my life, and with his bum leg keeping him close to the house, he pretty much had me all to himself.

Suddenly, I saw him not as the sweet, adorable Dusty I'd known for years, but as a conniving, manipulative man who'd played me like a virtuoso plays a violin. He might've even staged his accident so he could play on my sympathy. And he'd chosen his time to catch me alone in the bunkhouse awfully well. I'd even called him sweetheart. No wonder he thought I might want to sit in his lap. I eyed him with suspicion. “Why would you want me to do that?”

His gaze never wavered from mine. “Because then I could hold you and kiss you the way I've wanted to for a very long time.”

My newfound suspicions even found fault with that. “For how long, Dusty? Just since Cody died or before that?”

“I don't know,” he replied. “Maybe I've always felt this way about you. Lately I've seen how lonely you are with most of your family gone, and it makes me want to hold you and try to make that loneliness go away. You've always been very kind to me, and it hurts me to see you like that. You deserve better.” He shrugged. “This is the best I can do.”

His response may have only been calculated to keep my suspicions from growing, but it brought tears to my eyes anyway.

I was vulnerable, all right. I was wide open for that kind of sincerity to get to me. Troy had made me realize how lonely I truly was, and then he'd avoided me for days. And now, here was Dusty, apparently volunteering to pick up the slack.

Was it possible to have two boy toys at one time? Or were boy toys as territorial and possessive as any man? Had he and Troy discussed my situation? With no spy in the bunkhouse, I had no way of knowing what the men talked about, much less what they might have said about me. For all I knew there might have been some sort of conspiracy afoot, although to what purpose I couldn't quite fathom.

Gazing into Dusty's guileless blue eyes, I saw my error. He had no motivations aside from the one he'd just given me, and I chastised myself for even thinking such awful things about him. He was only showing his concern, and here I was suspecting him of trying to steal the ranch right out from under me. “That's very sweet of you, Dusty.”

He looked up at me with that same bleak expression he'd worn a few minutes before. “But?”

“I'm not sure what you mean. But what?”

“You think I'm too young for you,” he replied in a hollow, wooden voice. “You want someone older, more capable of understanding you.”