Once Upon a Cowboy (17 page)

* * *

Cami awoke abruptly and rolled over in her bunk bed, not quite sure what had disturbed her sleep. The sound repeated, a hammering outside the cabin that brought her to full and startled consciousness. It didn't come from the pounding of rain on the tin roof, although she could hear that, too. Nor did it come from a person pounding on the door. No, this was a loud, insistent, repetitive banging.

Moooo.

With a groan, she buried her face in the pillow. She'd know that moo anywhere. Buttercup. She jumped to her feet, dressing as quickly and quietly as she could so she wouldn't disturb the other women, and ran from the room. She slammed into Holt.

"You heard him, too?" he asked. At her nod, he muttered, "Damned animal."

Together they crossed to the front door and flung it open. Buttercup stood on the porch blinking at them. He took one look at Cami, released a desperate bellow and tried to push his way into the cabin. Holt hurled himself against the steer, throwing every ounce of weight into a vain attempt to stop the critter from gaining entrance, rapidly yielding ground to the determined longhorn.

"Haul butt outside, Tex." He shouted over his shoulder, "Frank, Gabby, get out here. Fast!"

Cami slipped past, calling to the lovesick steer. An instant later the two men showed up, Gabby in bright red long johns. "What's Buttercup doin' in our cabin?" he demanded.

"How the hell should I know? Probably busted out of the holding pen again. Tex! Get him off the porch before he annihilates the place."

"If he broke loose—" Frank began.

"—then the other longhorns will follow suit and head for the hills," Holt confirmed.

Gabby slapped on his hat. "Let's go get us some cows."

"Why tonight?" Cami called. "It's so dark and rainy, we'll never find them."

Holt spared her a brief glance. "We're out of time. If we don't get them now, there isn't going to be a cattle drive through town tomorrow. This rain will quit soon, and there's a full moon tonight. Once the clouds pass we'll see just fine." He yanked at the brim of his Stetson. "I hope."

"I'll gather my boys and head west as far as Blackman's Ridge and south to Deadman's Gulch," Frank said. "You want to cover the east ridge, Gabby?"

"Soon as I find my britches."

"Tex and I'll fix the holding pen and get Buttercup settled," Holt decided. "Once we're done, we'll ride north. Meet here by daybreak and we'll see how we stand." With that, they scattered.

Cami quickly discovered that repairing a holding pen in the pouring rain was wet and muddy work and even less of a pleasure than she'd expected it would be. By the time they'd finished, they were both filthy. "What do we do about Buttercup?" she asked in concern. "If we put him back in the pen, he'll only bust loose again."

Holt dropped the last rail in place and wiped his brow with a mud encrusted sleeve. "His little infatuation hasn't left me much choice. We'll have to snub him." He caught her sudden frown. "It won't hurt," he reassured. "We'll tie him head on to a tree, is all. And it won't be for long."

Just as they got Buttercup settled, the rain slackened and a bright, full moon appeared from behind the dissipating clouds. They saddled their horses and started north, fanning out but staying within shouting distance. As the hours wore on and they didn't find a single cow, Cami grew more and more discouraged.

Breaching a steep ridge, she came across Holt. He sat on Loco, unmoving, staring up at the night sky. She reined in her horse, reluctant to approach, yet drawn by the bleakness of his expression, by the urge to comfort.

"Tex?" He spoke without turning around.

"It's me, all right. How'd you know I wasn't a cow?"

"I just knew." He turned and to her amazement, a smile eased the hard lines of his face. "You're filthy."

She grinned back at him. "I'm filthy? Check a mirror, buckaroo. You look like a mud slick with eyeballs."

"A mud slick with eyeballs. Great." He hesitated, apparently fighting some inner quandary. She knew the moment he came to a decision. He stiffened his spine and glanced at her, his gaze resolute. "I have a solution, if you're game."

It didn't take much thought. "I'm game."

"Come on. There aren't any cows to be found here."

They rode in silence through the woods, the moon lighting their path. Cami didn't speak, afraid she'd break the mood. And it was a good mood, companionable, comfortable, relaxed. They angled to the northeast and plunged into a dense stand of pines. Shrubs snagged her jeans and made the going difficult.

"Not much further," he said, urging Loco through the thick brush.

Over a final hill, they emerged from the woods into a clearing and Cami stared in wonder. Trees and bushes circled the hidden glade forming a seemingly unbroken hedge. Thick green grass began where the woods ended, moss-covered rocks and clumps of ferns dotting the landscape. And smack dab in the center sat a pool, steam rising from the center.

Cami stared in wonder. "What? How?"

"Hot springs. They're all through the Rockies. I found this one a number of years back and kept its location to myself." He glanced her way, his expression obscured by shadows. "Until now."

She caught her breath, not mistaking his meaning. A fierce wave of heat swept through her. "Holt..."

He swung off Loco and opened one of his saddlebags, palming something he retrieved from inside. "Care to join me?"

"Yes."

"Then climb on down."

"Don't mind if I do," she said gruffly and dismounted.

Wisps of steam rose from the water, creeping across the surrounding terrain and clinging to the foliage with ghostly fingers. Holt sat on a large rock at one end of the pool and tugged off his boots, tossing them aside.

"It's the best hot bath you'll ever have. And there's the added advantage of rinsing off some of this mud."

She followed his example and shed her boots. Feeling awkward, she lingered by the pool. Holt showed no such hesitancy. Clamping his hat to his head, he dropped into the water.

"Is it very hot?" she asked.

"Nope. Just right. A few of the springs I've found will boil the skin clean off your bones. This one's a shade warmer than bathwater. Hot enough to ease an achy muscle, but not so hot you end up like a lobster."

"Sounds nice." She bit down on her lip, peering across the steaming water at him.

"It feels nice, too." His voice had deepened, turning rough and raspy. He looked directly at her, holding her with a clear, compelling stare. "Come here."

Instinct forced her to pause, alert to the predatory nature of his command, aware he'd become the hunter, she the prey. But an irresistible allure drew her, compelled her to submit to his demand, to yield to his power and strength. Without a word, she slid into the water.

Delicious heat enveloped her and her eyelids fell shut. She sighed, feeling each muscle relax, the tension melting away as though it had never been. A series of ripples lapped across her shoulders and she opened her eyes, snared by the intensity of Holt's gaze. He drifted nearer, crowding her, corralling her, closing off any chance of escape. Not that she wanted to escape.

"Good?" he murmured.

She nodded. "Great."

He slipped off her hat and sent it spinning across the glade. His followed a moment later. Moonlight danced in his sun-streaked hair, transforming the gold to silver. But it was his expression that held her attention. There she read his desire, desire that carved deep furrows beside his mouth and left its mark in his black glittering eyes.

"Grab some air," he warned, before pulling her beneath the water.

She didn't struggle. She knew he wouldn't harm her. His hands moved up and into her hair, swishing the dirt from her curls. An instant later, he kicked for the surface.

"Better?"

She clung to him, laughing. "Much. I don't suppose you have any shampoo?"

"'Fraid not." He cupped her face. "Tex..."

She smiled up at him. "What?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

Her smile faded and an uncontrollable trembling began. She licked her lips, her eyes drifting closed. "Anything you say," she whispered.

She felt his breath against her face. Gently, so very gently, his mouth touched hers, drinking the moisture from her parted lips. She tasted the slightly metallic tang of the pool. And then she tasted him, as intoxicating as fine wine. She wound her arms around his neck, surrendering to the fierce heat.

Control slid away and with it any thought of resistance. Even when he unbuttoned her shirt, ridding her of the irritating drag of wet cotton, she didn't resist. She welcomed the lightness, the unaccustomed freedom.

His hands encircled her waist, the calluses ridging his fingertips scraping the sensitive skin of her abdomen. His mouth left hers, sliding downward, dipping into the hollow of her throat before seeking the fullness of her breasts.

He caught her nipple through the thin wet cotton and tugged. She shuddered, crying out the only word her shattered mind could summon. "Holt!"

For an instant time froze. And in that frozen instant she realized she loved this man. Completely, totally, and forever. She had no idea when it happened, though she suspected it started the first day they met. She simply knew she loved him and always would. They belonged together, the same way they belonged to the land, to this way of life. Even if he refused to allow her to stay, her heart would remain here. She wanted him. Needed him. Intended to give herself to this man and only this man.

Holt pulled back, the sound of his name returning to him a measure of rational thought. He fought for breath. Hell, he fought for even a smidgen of control. He didn't dare kiss her again. If he did, he'd take her without thought. Recklessly and to hell with consequences. It would be all too easy to lose himself in her warmth and sweetness and passion. She deserved better than that and he intended to give it to her. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped an arm around her and lifted her onto the rim of the pool.

"Strip off your jeans." She started to argue, but he interrupted with crisp authority. "Wring them out and spread them across the rocks to dry. I'll hand you mine."

"I don't mind wet jeans," she protested, shivering beneath the mild breeze stirring the surrounding pines.

She glanced down at her breasts, blushed, and covered them with her hands. Did she have any idea how alluring she looked, how much she tempted him?

"Don't turn bashful on me, Tex. I'm not suggesting we go skinny dipping. I won't even touch you, if that's what you'd prefer." Although the restraint might just kill him. "I want to give our clothes a chance to dry. Riding wet is not my idea of fun."

She hesitated, then surrendered to logic. He watched her struggle free of her soaked jeans. He couldn't see any difference between her briefs and bra, and most swimsuits. If anything, her underclothes revealed less skin. What they did reveal, though, were long, slender legs. The wet cotton also clung to the sweetest curves he'd ever seen, outlining breasts and a pert bottom in a way her jeans and shirt never had. He fisted his hands to keep himself from snagging one of those dainty little ankles and yanking her back into the water. Not just back into the water. Back into his arms. Back into his embrace. Back where she
didn't
belong.

He removed the foil condom packet he'd retrieved from his saddlebag and set it on a nearby rock where she could see it and make up her mind. Make up her mind without his kissing her, or touching her, or counting her freckles, or in any way influencing the hell out of her. Next, he passed her the rest of his clothing and struck out across the pool to retrieve her shirt. He threw it to her and she wrung out the wet clothes before arranging them on the surrounding rocks. She paused for a long moment, her gaze locked on the condom, before returning to the water. He couldn't help noticing she kept her distance, maybe because he was buckass naked. Or maybe it was due to the condom.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked.

"One or two," she admitted. "It's not unreasonable, when you consider everything."

"Not unreasonable at all." He drifted closer. "What is unreasonable is how much I want you."

"Then again, reason is highly overrated."

His legs brushed hers and she shuddered. "What about restraint?" His voice lowered. "What about responsibility?"

Her gaze flitted over his shoulder. "Unless I miss my guess you have a foil packet full of responsibility sitting over on that rock. That's what you took out of your saddlebag earlier, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"You thought we might make love." She didn't phrase it as a question.

"The possibility occurred to me."

"And you wanted to make sure I was safe. Protected."

He closed his eyes, struggling not to flinch. Didn't she get it? "There's nothing safe or protective about me or what we're figuring to do. Nor will it change anything between us. You need to know that upfront. Consider it a moment out of time. A memory for when you're—"

For some reason he couldn't bring himself to say "gone." He didn't even want to contemplate it, despite recognizing the inevitability of it. She must have, too, because she stared up at him, her sunshine blue eyes muted by the nighttime.