Cowboy's Pride (Welcome to Covendale Book 1) (13 page)

“It’s just spaghetti and garlic bread. Oh, and salad.”

“Spaghetti?” She raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like ranch food to me.”

He shook his head. “Ranch food.”

“Yeah. You know, like a couple of whole chickens, or a side of beef, or pig’s feet. Or possum stew.”

“Okay, now I know you’re messing with me.”

She giggled. “Well, maybe not pig’s feet.”

“If you really want ambiance, I could open a can of beans and stick a spoon in it for you,” he said with a smirk. “But I draw the line at possum stew.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” she laughed. “Is it ready yet? I’m starving.”

He gave her a long, searing look. “Me, too.”

A thrilling shudder moved through her, and she almost decided dinner could wait. But she went with him when he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. He’d set the table beautifully, with a wine-colored tablecloth and silver taper candleholders, and a glass vase filled with fragrant lilacs. “You really know your way around a kitchen,” she said.

“Only thing my mother ever taught me.” He headed for the stove and turned off the burner beneath a big pot, then gave it a quick stir. “She always said that we might live in the sticks, but that didn’t mean we should eat like hicks.”

“How poetic.”

He turned to look at her, and the desire in his eyes took her breath away. “Well,” he said. “Guess we should eat.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly the only thing she was hungry for was standing by the stove, burning hotter than any fire. For her. She smiled and unfastened the top button of her chambray shirt. “How about an appetizer?”

He was around the table in an instant, pressing her against the wall beside the doorway, his lips on hers. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said hoarsely.

Before she could say anything more, he scooped her into his arms.

“Cam!” She threw her head back and laughed. “You really have to stop carrying me around. It’s not dignified.”

“Don’t want to. Don’t care.” He kissed the hollow of her throat, sending shivers through her, and flashed a wicked grin. “This is how we do it on the ranch.”

He brought her into the living room and stopped for a kiss. With a hand cupping her ass, he shifted her upright and guided her legs around his waist. “God, Sydney,” he moaned. “I’m not gonna make it all the way upstairs.”

“You have a couch, don’t you?”

“Good idea.”

In seconds she found herself on the aforementioned couch with Cam looming over her, unbuttoning his jeans. “Get undressed,” he rasped. “Please.”

She was happy to comply, shimmying her pants off quickly. She sat up when he came to her, and opened his shirt buttons while he laid himself bare. At least that bruise looked a little better. She laid a gentle kiss on his ribs—and he sucked in a breath.

“Oh! Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He reached down and pulled her shirt over her head. “Perfect,” he whispered, slipping a hand between bra and skin to draw a gasp from her. “You are absolutely perfect.”

Her breathing quickened as he lowered her gently down and settled between her legs. He trailed his fingers along the underside of her thigh, and the motion made her quiver with pleasure. “Now,” she panted. “I need to feel you inside me.”

He entered her with exquisite slowness. When he’d filled her completely, he bent to claim her mouth, his tongue darting and tasting. She responded in kind, reveling in the silky heat and the firmness of his lips. Her hands slid along the defined muscle of his back, and she thrust against him, craving motion.

“Easy,” he murmured against her mouth. “It’s my turn to drive.”

He started out slow, pulling out almost completely with every stroke before sliding back in. She felt every inch of his rigid cock glide through her, raking sensitive nerves and sparking a slow burn that consumed her from the inside. Just when she was convinced she’d burst into flames, he finally picked up the pace.

With a guttural moan, she abandoned herself to him.

He moved with a fluid grace, a steady rhythm that filled her entire body with sensation. Each time she cried out, he drove faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps until she spiraled out of control and came so hard, she didn’t have enough strength left to scream.

Her nails scored his back. He reacted with a fierce thrust, shuddering all over as he matched her climax in force.

Then he collapsed alongside her, his face pressed against her neck. “Three times in one day,” he murmured. “You’re killing me, Sydney.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. But it’s a hell of a way to die.” He raised his head and smiled. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Did you really say you’ll marry me?”

She smirked, stroking his damp hair. “I think so,” she said. “Then again, you didn’t exactly ask. How could I say no?”

“Did you want to say no?”

“Well…”

He gave her a light shove when she grinned. “I can fix that asking thing,” he said. “But let’s eat first, before it gets cold.”

As if on cue, her stomach snarled.

Laughing, Cam got up and gathered her clothes from the floor, and they both dressed.

But just as he moved to button his shirt, the doorbell rang.

Sydney frowned. “Are you expecting company?”

“No. Well, sort of.” He cast a glance at the door. “Eddie was supposed to stop over, but not until later. Much later.”

A sudden premonition of dread filled her, but he was already headed for the door. “Cam, wait,” she managed, struggling up from the couch. “Don’t—”

“What the hell?” he snarled.

She rushed over to the open door, where Cam stood glaring through it. On the other side was a familiar face—but not one she’d expected to see. She’d gone to high school with Nick Donovan.

These days, he worked for the Covendale police department.

Sydney’s heart plunged, and she was sure she’d be sick. Beyond the porch, two police cars with flashing lights were parked at slanted angles behind the trucks in the driveway, as if they wanted to make sure no one could leave. Nick looked unhappy, almost scared. And his hand rested on his gun.

Cam took a half-step toward the door, and Nick flinched back. His fingers curled around the gun handle. “Mr. Thatcher, we need you to come with us,” he said.

“Why?”

Nick blinked. “Well…because we’re arresting you.”

“What?” Sydney blurted. She grabbed Cam’s hand and squeezed. “Nick, what’s going on here?”

“Ma’am, please—” He did a double-take. “Sydney?”

“Yes. Why would you arrest him?”

“My God. It’s really true.” Nick took another step back, pinning Cam with a wary gaze, and spoke into the microphone attached to his shirt. “Dean, I need you to come up here.”

Cam made a low, angry sound. “You want to tell me what this is about?” he said, his voice tightly controlled. “Because I’m pretty sure you can’t arrest people for no reason.”

“Er. Tommy—I mean, Mr. Lowell is pressing charges.” Nick looked jumpier than a cat in a dog pound. “Could you please step outside and face the wall?”

“Pressing charges for
what
, goddamn it?”

Nick’s brow furrowed in confusion. By now the other deputy, a man Sydney didn’t recognize, had reached the porch stairs. At the sound of Cam’s shouted question, he drew his gun. “Hands in the air, Mr. Thatcher,” he said. “Where we can see them.”

Sydney gasped as he let go and raised his hands, with abject fury etched on his face. “What are the charges?” she said. “He didn’t do anything. This is insane.”

“Please step back, ma’am. Er, Sydney.” Nick pulled a set of handcuffs from his belt and looked at Cam. “Assault and battery,” he said softly. “You beat him up pretty bad. He’s at the hospital right now.”

“
What?
I never touched that son of a—”

“Step out and face the wall. Now.” The second deputy reached the porch, his gun pointed straight at Cam. “I won’t tell you again.”

For a long moment Cam didn’t move. Finally, he stepped through the door without a word, then walked to the side and turned around. Nick sent a wide-eyed glance at Sydney before he approached Cam and cuffed his hands behind his back.

When Nick moved away, the other deputy jerked Cam’s arm, forcing him to stumble and almost fall. “Come on, move,” he said. “Sheriff’s waiting for you.”

Cam wrenched away and glared at him. “I can walk,” he said flatly. He turned and strode for the porch stairs—barefoot and half-dressed, his wrists already reddened from the cuffs. He didn’t look at anyone.

The second deputy followed. When Nick started after them, Sydney dashed out to the porch and tapped his arm. “Stop,” she said. “Why are you doing this?”

Nick frowned a little. “I just said, he beat up Tommy. Guess they were fighting over…”

“Over what?”

He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “You,” he said. “Because he broke up the wedding and all.”

Sudden tears spilled from her eyes, but she was more furious than anything. “Tommy said that
Cam
broke up the wedding?” Her chest tightened, and she had to force herself not to scream. “Look. I don’t know what happened to him, but Cam didn’t do it. He’s been here all day.”

Nick shook his head slowly. “Lots of folks…uh, witnesses saw them arguing at the S&S this morning,” he said. “And everybody heard him threaten Tommy at The Klinker.”

Her head spun crazily. “He didn’t do it,” she repeated in a whisper. “It’s impossible.”

“Let’s go, Donovan,” the other deputy shouted from the driveway.

Nick’s throat worked up and down. “You’ll have to take that up with the sheriff,” he said, and skittered off the porch like he was on fire.

Sydney’s eyes narrowed, her vision blurring. “Believe me, I will,” she said.

She watched the cars pull away, red and blue flashing against the night. Everything in her felt hollow and cold. She wasn’t going to believe this. She couldn’t, and she didn’t. Cam had a temper, but he’d never risk losing his ranch by doing something this stupid. Not when he was so close to saving it. She had no idea how Tommy had pulled this off—but she intended to find out.

And for that, she needed a little help.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Luka, praying she’d answer this time. Her best friend picked up on the third ring. “I know you have news,” Luka said, sounding half asleep. “I was going to call you back, honest. So what’s the news?”

“Never mind that right now. I need a favor.” She drew a deep breath and asked herself if she really knew what she was doing. Then she decided it didn’t matter, and plunged ahead. “I have to talk to Eddie Verona.”

* * * *

No one removed the handcuffs after Cam was marched into Sheriff Tanner’s office and forced into a chair. He sat there alone for half an hour while his arms throbbed progressively worse, trying to calm his temper enough so he could speak rationally. He wanted to believe this was the dumbest, most incredible mistake ever made. But he knew that wasn’t the case. Somehow, Tommy had set him up.

When the sheriff finally did make an appearance, he stood on the other side of the desk, trying to loom over him. And the first words out of his mouth were, “Looks like Tommy got a few blows in before you beat him down.”

Cam clenched his jaw. Hard. “Tommy didn’t touch me,” he said. “And I didn’t touch him.”

Sheriff Tanner shook his head. “You got unbelievable balls, young man. You’re gonna tell me those bruises on your gut didn’t come from a fight?”

“I’m running a ranch, Sheriff.” He couldn’t exactly explain that they came from Eddie Verona’s personal thug. But it sure as hell hadn’t been Tommy. “I got kicked by a bad-tempered horse. Whatever happened to Tommy, I had nothing to do with it.”

“A horse,” the sheriff said. With a neutral expression, he opened a drawer and pulled out a bunch of photos, then fanned them across the desk. They showed Tommy with a black eye, a split lip, blood matted at one temple, an arm in a sling. “This is what happened to him. Maybe a horse kicked him, too, and he mistook it for you.”

“Maybe,” Cam ground out, his fury on a fast approach to full boil at the sight of those pictures. The son of a bitch must’ve beaten himself up, or had someone else do it, just to get him hauled in. “All I know is, I didn’t do it.”

“The hell you didn’t!” Sheriff Tanner pushed the photos off the desk, sending them fluttering to the floor. “We have eyewitness accounts of you threatening Tommy Lowell in public, twice. Last night at The Klinker, and this morning at the Stop ’n Shop. You are wearing physical evidence of a fight. And my deputies found Tommy Lowell’s fiancé at your ranch—which gives you plenty of motive.”

Cam shot to his feet. The sheriff flinched back and reached for his gun. “Motive?” he said. “Let me tell you what my motive would be, if I did this. Which I didn’t.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to believe it wasn’t you.”

“Shut up and listen!” He no longer cared about the sheriff’s gun, or the charges, or any of it. “I didn’t break up the goddamned wedding,” he said. “
Sydney
did. She dumped Tommy’s ass after she found it fucking a waitress in his apartment. With or without me, she wouldn’t go near that cheating bastard again if you paid her.”

Sheriff Tanner’s mouth dropped open for an instant, but he recovered quickly. “So you do have a motive,” he said. “Well, boy, being a liar isn’t against the law. But assault is.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a motive.” Cam glared at the sheriff until he dropped his gaze. “But I never touched Tommy. I respect Sydney too much for that. Maybe you should ask yourself how good of a liar he really is, and how far he’d go to get back at me.”

The sheriff looked up, once again expressionless. It was a long time before he spoke. “If he’s a good liar, you might be a better one,” he said. “Even though I know damned well you did, I’m half convinced you didn’t. But I don’t argue with the evidence.” He let out a sigh. “This interview is over. Let’s get you into holding.”

For a minute Cam thought he wouldn’t be able to move. He’d just stand here frozen with shock forever, or at least until a couple of deputies came in to drag him away. Anger had given way to a dull, distant horror as he realized there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop this. He hadn’t done anything, but it was impossible to prove a negative.