One Hot Cowboy (15 page)

slamming into her on top of the damned

table. As soon as he’d fumblingly gotten a

condom on, he pulled her over him and

tucked the head of his penis into her. A

little stroke, just parting her. She was tight.

Wet where she stretched around him.

“Let me give this to you,” he growled.

He needed to give her pleasure. She parted

more, sliding down his hard dick inch by

delicious inch. “You can take this. Take

me.”

She stared down at him, her eyes half-

closed as she took him, her position letting

her control the angle of his penetration.

Christ, he loved that sexy little look of

concentration on her face as she moved

slowly down his dick. Then up and back

down again, taking him with her, and it

was so damned good.

“So good,” he bit out, his fingers

stroking her hips as he drank in her little

hum of agreement. He wanted to give her

more words, to let her know just how she

was undoing him. How she made him feel,

made him want her so bad, but all he could

do was lie back and let her ride him.

Rose
.

The orgasm hit him hard, had him

thrusting up, his hands on her hips, as he

pushed himself deep and hard into her

sweet depths. He wasn’t sure if he was

holding on, but he was damned sure he

wasn’t steering this. The sun behind her lit

her up all golden. She bit her lip, her hands

tightening on his shoulders, and he knew

she was close to her peak, the sweet, tight

clench of her pussy on his dick sending him

all the way over the edge.

“Cabe.” Her eyes shut, she was so lost

in her pleasure, but he couldn’t stop

watching her face any more than he could

stop moving in and out of her. They were

connected. Just the two of them, right here,

right now, on the picnic table, where the

whole damned world could be lined up

watching, but he didn’t care. All that

mattered was the woman in his arms and

making sure she found what she needed.

“Oh, God, Cabe.”

She stiffened, the muscles in her thighs

tensing, and he reached between them,

finding her clit and stroking gently where

she was wet and needing. She followed

him over the edge, coming around him as

his arms wrapped around her, pulling her

down to him as he buried himself one last

time inside her.

As she relaxed against him, he lay there

on his back on a picnic table, soaking in

the fading sunlight and the sweet weight of

her. There were a hundred reasons why he

shouldn’t be doing this, but he didn’t care.

He’d worry about the reasons and the

ranch later. Right now, all that mattered

was Rose. That Rose was happy.

She’d wanted to give him something, but

maybe she’d taken something, too. His

heart. Rose had always pushed him,

always challenged him. She’d dared him to

come after her and convince her to follow

his rules. Now they were lovers, and all

the rules had gone right out the window.

He’d never had a lover like this before,

never felt this kind of pleasure, but

something even more significant was

happening, and he wouldn’t be willfully

blind to it.

This time, if Rose ran, she’d take a part

of him with her.

Chapter Seven

T
he way Cabe saw it, he had three days to

figure out a solution. At the end of those

three days, he had an appointment at the

lawyer’s office. The drill team was

standing by, ready to go. All he had to do

was give the word, and he’d be that much

closer to gaining the new well his ranch

needed so badly. Instead, his head had him

going in circles, trying to find another way

out of the mess he’d landed himself in.

Three days.

Of course, maybe Friday would find him

signing papers in the lawyer’s office to

take title of the Jordan place, but there was

no predicting what Rose would do. She’d

moved out of the ranch house, but she

hadn’t packed up that Honda Civic of hers

to put Lonesome behind her. Not yet. He’d

checked and that car of hers was parked

right in Auntie Dee’s driveway. He’d

arranged to have the electricity turned on,

but he didn’t like the idea of her staying out

there alone. Maybe, it was better than her

up and running farther away from him. All

Cabe knew was, she wasn’t going to make

this easy for him.

That was fair enough.

She certainly hadn’t come back to the

ranch house after she’d taken him on that

picnic table. Hell, he wanted to have the

damned thing bronzed, couldn’t stop

himself from driving past there twice a day

while he gave her the space she claimed

she needed to think things through.

Damn the house and the land. He wanted

her thinking about
him
. About
them
.

He had it bad.

He pointed his horse toward some hands

working a fence line under Rory’s

direction. At least the fence was something

he could fix right here and now. He let

himself relax into the easy, familiar rhythm

of hooves hitting the sun-baked ground. He

had hands to ride the line, but a man

needed to see some things for himself.

Up ahead, one of the cowboys rode after

an escaping calf, moving seamlessly with

his horse as his lariat slipped through the

air and over the head of the recalcitrant

calf. That man had been riding for

Blackhawk Ranch for thirty years now.

Where would he find work if the ranch

went under? Every year there were fewer

California beef outfits. Cabe’s need for

water was about more than just money.

This was what he was fighting to preserve.

This
way of life.

“You talk to Rose about her place?”

Rory slouched beside him on his horse.

“Yeah.” He made a mental note to send

some more hands out. The fence here

needed replacing, not a simple fix. “I did.”

“Didn’t go well?”

“Not particularly, no. Hell, Rory, how

do you think it went? She thought she’d

inherited Auntie Dee’s place free and

clear.”

“When what she actually got was a pile

of debt she can’t clear. Yeah, I can see the

problem there.”

“She’s pissed as hell, but we need those

water rights.” There was a long moment of

silence. Cabe knew that Rory liked Rose.

He always had. He didn’t like seeing her

get hurt now any more than Cabe did.

But they had to have that water.

“And she still won’t take the check?”

“She wanted to fix the place up. Live in

it. She had a whole tube of architectural

plans that she drew up. Which closet went

where and that kind of stuff.”

“There’s no way to give her that

house?”

He still had to have those water rights.

That water meant this herd kept on going

and his cowboys kept riding. “She’s not

going to want her front garden to be a

stockyard.”

Rory tipped his head back and studied

the calf. “Probably not.”

Still, those plans said something.

Something important. They weren’t just

rooms on a piece of paper. His own ranch

house, he realized, was more house than

home. It was beautiful, it was solid, it was

the place he laid his head down, but it was

not the place where he’d put down roots.

That was out here on the land.

And with Rose. Because he loved her.

Question was, would Auntie Dee’s

house be enough for Rose? If she needed

the house so badly, why not just pick the

place up and move it somewhere else? It

might be an option. If the old building was

stable enough. There was plenty of space

out here on the ranch, where she could be

as close to or as far from him as she

wanted and he could work on convincing

Rose to give him a second chance.

Hell. Was he even making sense to

himself? It didn’t matter. What mattered

was that somehow, somewhere along the

way, he’d fallen head over heels in love

with Rose Jordan. Smiling, he slowed the

horse and swung down to walk the winded

animal a bit.

He tried his conclusion out on his

brother. “I’m going to find her. Make her

stay. I love her.”

Rory nodded as if that was a foregone

conclusion. Hell, maybe his feelings
were

written right there on his face for everyone

to see. “You got a plan?”

Hell, yes. Fuck being responsible. He

wanted
her. He wanted
Rose
. Maybe it

was time simply to take what he wanted

and convince her she could do the same.

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a plan.”

Hell if he knew whether it would work,

though.

Chapter Eight

S
he’d signed.

It was Friday, and it was over.

Seemingly a hundred times in triplicate,

her signature getting looser and lighter as

she worked her way through the stack of

papers the lawyer had handed her, she’d

signed over the house and the land to Cabe

Dawson. She’d camped out at Auntie

Dee’s for the last three nights, saying her

good-byes, and now all that was left was

to get back into her car and drive.

Somewhere. Anywhere, as long as it didn’t

mean staying here.

The lawyer’s door snapped shut behind

her, and the street both to the left and right

led straight out of Lonesome. Before she

could get to her car and hit the road,

however, there was her nemesis, riding

right on up Lonesome’s main street as if he

owned that patch of asphalt, too. Cabe

Dawson was all cowboy. Tough and hard,

his face determined as that horse of his

picked up speed. Of course, she was

probably the problem he was riding hell-

bent for leather to solve.

Which was too damned bad.

She was done with cowboys.

Done with Lonesome.

She didn’t want to give up on her dream,

but she couldn’t hide her head in the sand

any longer, either. She was flat-out broke.

The house was falling down. And Cabe

Dawson held the mortgage on it, when

what he really needed was twenty gallons

per minute. He could hang on to his dream

if she gave up hers.

He stopped the horse in front of her.

It was a really pretty day, the kind of

sunny-and-blue that usually had her

thinking about picnics and swimming.

Shielding her eyes from the glare, she

looked up at him. “I wasn’t late this time.”

For once, she’d been early, eager to get

this over with. Knowing why she’d

decided to sign—because she loved Cabe

Dawson, and he needed this more than she

did—didn’t actually make the act itself any

easier. It just made her okay with the

sadness of it all.

“That’s not what I’m here about.”

“Whatever.” Turning away, she started

walking. Her Honda Civic was parked

down the street. She’d get in, and she’d go.

Somewhere. She wasn’t sure where, but

there had to be a fresh start out there for

her, and she’d find it.

“Can we talk?”

The horse fell in beside her. She wasn’t

overly thrilled about having nine hundred

pounds of animal inches away from her,

but any horse Cabe rode would be well

trained. As disciplined as the man himself.

Unless—and she could feel the small smile

tugging at the corners of her mouth—she

had him on a picnic table. Then all bets

were off. Cabe Dawson losing control was

a sight to see.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to

discuss. I read the mortgage. I signed the

papers. You own the place now. You go

right ahead and drill those wells of yours.”

“I appreciate it.” His husky drawl was

pleasant, as if they were strangers

exchanging pleases-and-thank-yous in the

grocery. Where had her wonderful lover

gone? Was it all so easily over between

them? It had to be, she reminded herself,