Dylan (22 page)

Ronnie put her hands on her hips and surveyed her temporary domain. All was well. The frying pan had stopped smoking and the sludge in the coffeemaker was cool enough to pour down the drain. The only disaster looming was the water in the sink; it was a few drops short of overflowing.

She started rooting through cabinets and came up with a huge stockpot and a smaller saucepan. “Perfect.” She carefully dipped the saucepan in the water and scooped some up, ladling it into the large pot. After the first few pans full, the sink was no longer in danger of spilling over onto the oak wide board floor, so she reached in to pull out the drain plug.

She poured the dregs of the coffee into the swirling water, diluting the sludge so that it wouldn't clog the drain or the pipes. Third disaster averted, she leaned back against the counter for a moment and took it all in: the height of the ceiling, the well-worn countertops, and the coveted farm-style sink, big enough to bathe twins in.

“Where the heck did that thought come from?” Shaken to the core, she brushed her hands on the seat of her denim skirt and opened the fridge. Dylan was right; it was well stocked. Deciding to go with something simple but filling, she pulled out two packages of beef cubes and rummaged in the cabinets until she had most of the ingredients she needed for beef stew. Reaching for her tote bag, she pulled out the spices she was never without: basil, oregano, and garlic powder.

“I wonder if they have any red wine.” It was like playing a child's game, hunting up ingredients and the thrill of discovery when she found them. Finding a bottle among several others surprised her; she would have thought the Garahan brothers only drank beer.

“And that would be stereotyping,” she chided herself. “And you know how much you hate when people do that to you just because you have an Italian last name, dark hair, and come from New Jersey.”

Using the shortening she found among the cooking supplies, she added it to the Dutch oven and tossed the defrosted beef cubes in the bag of flour. The familiar motions of cooking soothed her frayed nerves and helped to center her focus on the job at hand, which was important because if she didn't she'd end up burning dinner.

A little while later, the stew was simmering on the back burner and she was studying the contents of the freezer once more, this time for dessert. “Jackpot!” Ronnie pulled a couple of packages of frozen mixed berries out to thaw.

“Lucky devils,” she muttered to herself. “You're going to get my grandmother's triple berry pie.”

Two hours later, the kitchen was cleaned and dinner was ready. “Now where did everybody go?” She wandered outside but didn't notice anyone right off. “Hmmpf.”

She turned and started walking toward the barn. It was dark inside, and the soothing scents of hay and horse washed over her. It had been a long time since she'd done any riding, longer still since she'd competed in barrel riding. The soft whicker coming from the first stall had her stopping to greet the friendly animal.

“Hey,” she crooned. “Nice to meet you.” Ronnie stroked the star blazing between liquid brown eyes down to the soft muzzle. When the horse started lipping her palm, she giggled. “Sorry, I didn't bring anything with me.” She looked over her shoulder and spotted a bag of grain. “I'll be right back.”

Dipping her hand in the bag, she scooped up a handful of oats and a chorus of whinnies sounded. “Excellent sense of smell, guys. I'll get you some in a minute.”

Going down the row of stalls, she greeted and pampered each and every horse. “Quarter Horses are so beautiful,” she murmured, coming to the last stall. The horse raised his head and kicked at the sides of the stall.

“Easy, boy,” she soothed all the while admiring him. “Aren't you pretty.”

After he finished showing off for her, he tossed his head one last time, moved to the stall door, and nudged her shoulder. She laughed and offered the handful of oats.

Dylan couldn't believe his eyes. He'd come into the barn searching for Ronnie and found her petting Wildfire and offering him a treat. His horse wasn't known for taking to strangers—then again, neither was he—but he and his stallion seemed to agree on the woman from back East.

“I see you've met Wildfire.”

She turned and smiled. “He's so beautiful… they all are.”

Dylan's heart swelled with pride. They raised steer for beef at the Circle G, but they also raised Quarter Horses to breed and to sell. The horses held a special place in his heart. “They're not just work horses—”

“Quarter Horses are bred to work the ranch, but are amazingly fast barrel racers,” she interrupted.

He looked down at the woman and shook his head. “You always manage to surprise me, darlin'.” Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “How do you know about my horses?”

“I used to be a barrel racer… was pretty good at it too.”

He grinned. “The more I find out about you, the harder it is to think about letting you go.”

The solemn look on her face had his gut clenching. “Then don't let go of me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Ever?”

“Why don't we just take it a day at a time?”

“All right,” he drawled. “I'll let you know if I'm keeping you after supper.”

Her jaw dropped, and he touched the tip of his finger to her chin to gently close her mouth. “Careful, darlin'. Around here, you might catch some flies… really big ones.”

She snapped her jaw shut and glared up at him. “If you're lucky, I just might let you eat the meal I cooked for your brothers.”

“Just my brothers?”

“We'll see how I feel by the time I walk back to the kitchen.” Spinning on her heel, she stalked back to the kitchen.

Dylan wasn't taking any chances. Dinner smelled so good, he nearly wept in gratitude. If it tasted as good as it smelled, he couldn't afford to let her get mad enough at him to deny him a sample.

He caught up to her and swept her up in his arms without breaking his stride. “Don't pout, darlin'. It gives you a wrinkle right here.” He touched his fingertip to the frown line between her eyebrows. Unable to resist, he pressed his lips to the tiny line forming there.

The snarling sound coming from the woman in his arms had him chuckling. The elbow to his stomach had him stumbling and setting her down to draw in air. “You are the most contrary woman I know.”

“Oh,” she said sweetly. “Do you know that many?”

He started to answer, then thought better of it. “At the moment, you're ahead of the pack.” Let her chew on that one and digest it.

“Hey, Dylan,” Jesse hollered out the back door, “what's keeping you two?”

“Coming,” he yelled, grabbing ahold of her hand and pulling her along behind him.

“I've heard that before,” she sneered, slipping out of his grasp and running ahead of him. She paused at the back door, where Jesse stood grinning down at her. “You hungry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jesse answered. “Smells good enough to eat.”

She shook her head at him. “That's the plan.” Before Dylan made it to the bottom step, she slipped her arm through Jesse's and pulled him into the kitchen.

Jesse kept looking over his shoulder, but she patted his arm. “Don't worry, he won't stay mad for long.”

Jesse cleared his throat and mumbled, “Don't count on it.”

“Did everybody wash up?” She was setting out a stack of plates when Dylan made his move.

He caged her against the counter and bent his head, whispering, “Jesse's right.”

She got her gumption back and then some, pushing against him and spinning around in his arms. “Back off cowboy.”

“Did you just call him cowboy?”

“Shut up, Jesse!” she and Dylan said at the same time.

Dylan fought against the urge to smile. Damn, but he really liked her moods… the meaner she got, the more attraction he felt.
Contrary
, his grandfather's voice echoed in his head.
Always
were.

“Not gonna happen in this lifetime,” Tyler said walking into the room, with a disheveled Emily in tow.

Emily smoothed her hair out of her face but couldn't do anything about the telltale wrinkles in her once smooth T-shirt minidress.

“Are we keeping you two from anything more important?” Jesse teased.

Emily flushed a bright pink, but walked over to the youngest Garahan and hugged him. “Your brother is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Tyler's eyes darkened and Ronnie knew exactly what he was thinking; she'd seen the same look in Dylan's eyes. “I could save your dinner for you to nuke and eat later.”

Tyler's eyes lightened and so did his mood. “It'd be mighty cold come morning.” Turning to Emily he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her until she melted in his arms.

“Wow,” Ronnie murmured to no one in particular. “I wonder if all of the Garahan men kiss like that.”

Jesse stopped right beside her, plate in hand. “Want to find out?”

Dylan reached between the two and grabbed his brother by the front of his shirt. “Do it and die.”

His brother flinched. “Uh… I'll take a rain check on that kiss, darlin'.”

Dylan flung his brother against the cabinets. “Over my dead body.”

“Jealous much?” Tyler interrupted, coming between the two.

Dylan flexed his muscles and gathered his control; it was the only thing that saved Jesse from being pounded into a puddle.

“Let's eat.” Emily took Ronnie by the elbow and steered her toward a chair on the far side of the table. Inhaling, Emily said, “Smells wonderful. I can bake brownies, but I'm not a great cook.”

Tyler chuckled. “Darlin', you do so many other things really well.”

“Is this one of them?” Emily walked over and slipped her arms around Tyler's waist, pulling him close before pressing her lips to his.

When they finally came up for air, all Tyler could do was nod.

“Wasn't it against one of Grandpa's rules to be kissing in the kitchen?” Jesse asked.

Dylan locked gazes with Ronnie before answering. “Only if he caught us.”

Dylan disconnected the phone call and sighed. He'd offered, and now he'd have to come through for Jolene… starting tomorrow night and for the next few days. “Why did I make that damned offer?”
Because
you
never
thought
she'd take you up on it, Son.
“Gee thanks, Grandpa.”

But his grandfather was right. He never thought she'd take him up on it. “Damn, she'll probably start asking me about that damned all-male revue again.”

Jesse walked up behind his brother. “What revue?”

“That crazy woman Jolene—” His gaze met Emily's. “No offense, ma'am.”

She smiled warmly. “None taken.”

“Jolene wants to have an all-male revue for Take Pride in Pleasure Day, featuring some ‘real' cowboys with her dancers.”

Jesse looked thoughtful. “Sign me up. It sounds like fun.”

“We're holding some of the events in the town square,” Emily said, “so all of our dancers will be wearing jeans, boots, and Stetsons—no shirts.”

Dylan sighed and looked at his brothers. “We're going to have to do the damned revue, aren't we?”

“We owe Jolene,” Tyler said quietly, locking gazes with Emily.

“Come on,” Jesse said, punching Dylan in the shoulder.

Dylan punched him back as Ronnie walked back into the room.

“For heaven's sake!”

Ronnie looked at Emily, but Emily shook her head. “Don't ask me. I warned you the Garahans were mixers—they enjoy brawling.”

Ronnie shook her head and sighed. “I guess I didn't realize they were so physical about it.”

It was Emily's turn to laugh. “Honey, that's the best part of relationship with a Garahan man… the physical part.”

Tyler pulled Emily into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Amen to that.” Putting his arm around her, he swept her toward the door. “Come on, darlin',” he crooned. “Time to remind you just how good the best really is.”

Jesse glowered at the empty doorway. “I'm going out to the barn.”

“Didn't you already take care of the horses?” Ronnie asked.

Dylan knew what his brother planned to do. “Yeah, but there are a couple of feed bags that we toss around when we're angry.” He watched the door bang twice against the frame and hoped Jesse would come around to their way of thinking and forget the woman who'd broken his heart… twice.

“Seriously?”

“As a heart attack, darlin'. Come on,” he urged, after his brother made it over to the barn. “There's a spot I want to show you out by the pond.”

“Oh,” Ronnie said, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Where the air smells so heavenly?”

“You can touch heaven there, darlin'.”

“Really?”

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “Oh yeah,” he rasped. “And I'm just the man to show you the way. Wait here.” He sprinted toward the front of the house.

“Where are you going?”

“I'll be right back,” he called over shoulder, hoping she wouldn't follow him. That would just take more time, because he'd have to pull her into his arms and kiss her some more, and with the way need was burning a hole through his gut, he'd be taking her against the damned wall in the upstairs hallway.

“Well, I can—”

“Ronnie, darlin',” he interrupted. “Please don't move. I'm going to get a quilt and don't want to waste any more time than we have to before I make love with you.”

Her mouth rounded in a kissable O. He winked and ran for the stairs. Two minutes later he was in the kitchen with his right arm wrapped around his woman and his left holding his grandmother's quilt.

“Time's a wastin', darlin'.”

Ronnie's breathless laughter echoed deep inside of him. “We're taking the truck?”

“What part of ‘darlin', I can't wait,' didn't you get?” His grin must have been contagious; she smiled back at him.

“Lead the way.”

He opened the door for her, waited until she was inside, and closed the door. Placing a hand on the hood of the truck, he vaulted over to the driver's side. Inside, he slammed the door and revved the engine. When she grabbed ahold of him, he was concentrating on backing up. “If you touch me now, we won't get to make love out by the pond, and my little brother's still in the barn.”

She let her hand drop to her side. “You're burning starlight.”

He had to laugh. His woman was something. Man, when had he started thinking of her as his? Did he really want to keep her?
Last
night
and
yes
, his lust-addled brain managed.

“The expression is daylight, tenderfoot.”

“Tenderfoot?”

“That's right, you're not from around here, and it shows.” His hands tightened on the wheel as he slowed down to turn at the fork in the road. “Almost there.”

“Is it a problem for you that I'm not from Texas?”

Her brow was wrinkled and her eyes weren't as bright as they'd been a few moments earlier, by the light of truck's cab. She was worried. Did that mean she cared? Hell, she'd better care; he was halfway down the slippery slope to love.

“Not in this lifetime. It's what makes you special.”

In the glow of the dashboard, he saw her expression soften. “You think I'm special?”

He slowed down to park alongside the pond and yanked her to his side of the truck and into his arms. It was a tight squeeze, but that just amped up the lust that was quickly burning out of control. Her lips softened beneath his, but he didn't have time for a gentle tasting with the choke hold his libido had on him.

He plundered and she moaned. “Damn,” he said, pulling back from her. “I'm getting out of this truck and you'd better be right behind me, because if I touch you again, it'll be to bend you over the bumper.”

She laughed and scooted over to her door. “You don't scare me, Dylan.”

His nostrils flared as her laughter wrapped around his heart and squeezed. “Maybe you should be scared.” He was scaring himself. Wanting her was driving him crazy. Needing her like his next breath he'd worry about later. Right now, he needed to bury himself to the hilt inside of her welcoming warmth.

She reached for the quilt and spread it out on the grass, smoothing her hand over the tiny stitches. “This is beautiful.”

“It's prettier in daylight. My grandma liked to sew.”

“Are you sure we should use it?”

He reached for her hand. “We can talk later.” He yanked and she fell into his arms. Kisses mingled with their shared laughter. His boots went flying—one to the left, landing against the base of a tree, the other he didn't bother to track. He had a gorgeous woman in his arms with her lips latched onto his neck.

“Why can't I get enough of you?”

His heart lurched. “I've been suffering here too.”

She started to push him away, but he let his weight settle him more firmly against her, pressing her against the soft cotton bed they'd made beneath the stars. “Talk later… kiss me now.”

He stripped the clothes from her slender body. “I'll go slower next time.” Her nipples pearled as a wisp of a breeze blew across the pond, and he bent and sucked first one breast and then the other deeply into his mouth.

Her groan was so close to agony, he almost stopped to ask if she was all right, but she lifted her hips and he knew she wasn't in pain. She was right there with him. Licking and kissing a path along her collarbone, he stopped to tease first one rosy peak and then the other.

“Dylan!”

He didn't bother to answer. Pressing his lips over her heart, he slid his fingers from beneath her rib cage to the dip of her belly button and followed the path, first with his tongue and then a gentle breath, blowing until he could feel her shiver.

Plumbing her depths with his fingers, testing her readiness, it was his turn to groan. “You're so wet… so hot.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth back to hers, pouring everything she felt into the kiss. Lifting her hips, she offered what he craved. He paused to cover himself then sank into her depths.
I'm home
.

***

Ronnie's heart stuttered in her breast as Dylan thrust again and again. She gave him all she had and then offered more. “I can't wait—”

Arching his back, he drove into her, lifting her up off the quilt. Grabbing ahold of his amazing backside, she hung on for dear life as he plunged into her over and over until her body took over and she ceased to think about holding back. Heart pounding, mind racing, she soared over the edge into madness, trusting the man to keep her safe as she shattered around him.

The moonlight illuminated the hard planes of his cheek and jaw. The man was so beautiful it made her heart hurt. “Wow.”

He snickered. “Gee thanks, babe,” he rumbled. “Glad you approve.”

She smacked him on the back of his shoulder. “My brain's not catching up as quickly. Give me a few minutes.”

He rolled over until their positions were reversed and she was on top. Leaning her elbows on his chest, she sighed. “Now that you've snapped off a piece, I don't suppose I could interest you in another?”

His eyes narrowed and he stirred and stretched inside of her, but he pulled out of her and reached for another condom.

“You are amazing.”

He slid his hands to her backside, pinning her to him like a butterfly to a swatch of black velvet. The words evaporated as his hands massaged her butt cheeks; the rhythmic movements of his hips mesmerized her. “Dylan, I've never—” She wanted to tell him she'd never been this lust-crazed in her life. He wasn't her first, but he was by far the best.

“Darlin', you sure about that?” Shifting his grip and his hips, he urged her to keep up.

Following his lead, she rode him hard, until he flipped them over again and plunged deep, pumping into her until he was empty.

His let his forehead rest against hers. “Darlin', you're going to kill me.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” Energized, she hugged him to her and pushed his shoulder until he rolled onto his side. Pressing her lips and then her cheek against his heart, she snuggled in and closed her eyes. Safe and secure. Happy and loved in his strong arms.

He tried to move his arm, but she protested. “This is my comfy place. Don't move.”

He laughed and reached out to grab a corner of the quilt, wrapping them in a cocoon of soft cotton. Sliding his arm back around her, he asked, “Better?”

She sighed. “Amazing.”

His breathing evened out and became deeper. Before he could fall asleep, though, she wanted to tell him what being with him meant to her. “Dylan?”

“Mmmpf.”

“Are you asleep?”

“Almost.”

“I meant what I said.”

“Which part?”

“I've never been with anyone like you before.”

“Damn straight, darlin'. Once you've had a taste of Texas you never go back.”

She pinched his butt.

“Hey!”

“Just testing the Grade A perfection of your rump, darlin', to make sure I wasn't dreaming.”

“Veronica?”

Lord, she loved when he drawled out her name. “Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Jerk.”

“Shrew.” She struggled to move out of his embrace, but he wouldn't let her. “Lord, you're temperamental.”

“Are we back to you comparing me to a horse again?”

“Darlin', I live and breathe horseflesh.”

“But I'm not—”

“You're fiery, strong, passionate, and fierce in your lovin'… just like the best filly… the one you want to breed to your strongest stallion.”

“I still don't like it.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead, cheek, and chin. “You surely do, darlin'. Better catch some z's. Morning comes early at the Circle G.”

Wondering if her heart could take waking up next to him without the promise of a lifetime scared her right down to her toes. “Are you a morning person?”

“I wake up locked, loaded, and ready for bear.”

“Well—”

“Better shut your eyes. You'll be needin' your rest come sun up.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

With Dylan's arms wrapped around her, she closed her eyes and snuggled against him, falling asleep to the sound of the wind gusting across the pond and the steady beat of his heart.

She woke at sunrise with his lips on her heart, branding her. There was no going back, only forward.
God, please let this man feel half of what I feel for him.

Her morning prayer said, Ronnie greeted him with a smile as she slid her hand between them, finding and testing the satin smooth length of him. Two strokes later, he jerked and swore.

“I'm sorry… did I grip you too hard?”

He closed his eyes. “Not nearly hard enough, darlin'. Don't let me keep you from your explorations.”

Intrigued that he'd let her take the lead, she tested the length and strength of him again, pressing her lips to his as she flicked the tip of her finger across the soft, smooth, blunt tip of his erection. She was rewarded with a bead of moisture. Swirling it over him, she listened for the catch in his breath. Encouraged, she took him in hand and stroked him, coaxing more, listening to his ragged breaths and pounding heart.

He was on her in a heartbeat, buried to the hilt, pressing his lips to her heart. “Now!” he urged.

She gave herself over to the splendor of his love-making. Hard, fast, urgent, powerful. If she lived to be a hundred, she'd never have another lover like Dylan. He plunged in deep, touching her womb, his hot seed emptying into her.

“Oh crap!”

“Not exactly the words I long to hear after waking up my woman with lovin' at sun up.”