One Wild Cowboy (13 page)

Dylan's jaw set. “I'm not the kind of guy you need, Emily. I never will be.”

Emily ignored his quelling expression and instead focused on the pulse racing in his throat. “What I need is my freedom, Dylan,” she stated stubbornly. “Just like you need yours.”

Dylan's eyes shuttered to half-mast. Already, he was giving in. “Emily…”

Luxuriating in his surrender, she pressed a finger to his lips. “No promises, Dylan. No thinking about what tomorrow will bring. Just…this.” She kissed him, sweetly, tenderly.

“You say that now,” he protested against her mouth on a rough exhalation of breath.

Emily took both his hands in hers. “And I mean it.” She stared deep into his eyes, promising, “We'll be together as long as it feels right, as long as I need a boyfriend to stave off Xavier and run interference between me and my family, and you need help with the mustangs.” Her heart pounding, she drew a bolstering breath. “After that, we'll go back to each doing our own thing and go our separate ways. With no complications and no regrets. Just a few memories to keep us warm on cold winter nights.”

Dylan studied her, still gripping her hands. “You're talking friends with benefits?”

Emily shrugged, unwilling to put even that much of a restriction on what it was they were agreeing to. Aware he was hard and male and strong in all the ways she had ever
wanted, she whispered back, “Friends with
temporary
benefits, Dylan.”

Looking as if she were everything he had ever wanted, too, Dylan smiled. He threaded his hands through her hair and brought her face up to his. Slowly, he lowered his lips, tilted his head to better accommodate the kiss. His eyes closed. “You drive a hard bargain, cowgirl. But one I feel compelled to accept.” He kissed one corner of her lips, then the other.

“What can I say?” she whispered fiercely, pausing to deepen the kiss. “I want what I want…and what I want, Dylan, is you.”

So much…

“Well, then,” he answered in a deep, sexy voice that kindled her senses all the more, “let's make it happen.” He reached for the zipper on her jeans. As he drew it down, cool air assaulted her skin. The warmth of his palm followed, then his touch. She surged and writhed, surrendering her body, and then he was pressing her back against the counter, pushing her pants all the way off.

“Dylan,” she moaned, her legs opening even wider. His hand slid between them, stroking the tender insides from knee to pelvis and back again. She was teetering on the edge…bursting with heat and sensation. “Dylan,” she cried out, even more urgently.

His eyes dark with passion, he slid downward. Smiling at what he found, he teased her gently, “I like you without panties.” And then before she could do so much as take a breath, his mouth was there, his fingers parting the delicate skin and sliding inside. Driving her crazy. Making her shake as more moisture flowed, until she quivered in ecstasy and nearly collapsed with the pleasure of it. Swells of almost unbearable sensation sweeping through her, she opened her eyes. “I wanted to wait for you.”

“You will,” he promised hoarsely. Rising, he opened her
shirt, claimed the softness of her breasts. Admiration shimmering in his eyes, he stroked her nipples. Then he captured her skin in a kiss so hot and sweet and tender it had her shuddering all over even as she demanded more.

Not to be undone, she unbuttoned his shirt and pressed forward so her nipples rubbed against the work-honed muscles of his chest. The delicious friction made her groan. That, along with her subsequent kisses, made him hard. Really hard. So hard he did not protest when she finally tore her lips from his, eased down the zipper of his jeans and dispensed with his clothes from the waist down.

She was determined to make this as good for him as he had for her. She tempted…discovered…adored, until his legs were taut and his breath was rasping in his chest. He brought her upward, to sit up on the counter. He stepped between her legs with a resolve that had her surrendering all over again.

Together, as erotic moments passed, they looked their fill.

“I don't know how we got so lucky,” Dylan rasped out, “but for once I'm not going to question it.” And then he was kissing her again, shifting his strong hard body until it became part of hers, and she was lifting her hips and wrapping her legs around his waist, bringing him closer still.

Caught up in something too powerful and primal to fight, Emily took him into the warmth of her body, and then discovered their bodies were made for each other after all. Awash in sensation, she let sheer abandon overtake her. Their ragged breaths meshed as soulfully and completely as their hot, passionate kisses. And then it happened, just as he'd promised it would. He pressed into her as deeply as he could go and they were soaring, flying free. Boundaries dissolved in a wild, wanton pleasure unlike anything she had ever known.

Afterward, they clung together, breathing hard. And Emily
told herself it was a very good thing she was
not
in love with Dylan or he with her. Because if that had been the case, they'd
both
be in a heap of trouble.

 

M
ORNING CAME
far too soon, and with it a whole new host of problems. “Xavier Shillingsworth is back,” Bobbie Sue Everett reported, shortly after the café opened.

Telling herself that nothing was going to alleviate the glow she felt, Emily continued whisking eggs. “How do you know that?”

Bobbie Sue frowned. “Because he just took the corner booth and ordered one of everything on the menu, to be brought to him one dish at a time.”

Emily sighed. “Or in other words, he intends to be here awhile.”

“All morning, from the way he was talking.”

Dylan—who'd been occupying a seat at the counter—ambled into the kitchen. Seeing him reminded Emily of the hot, passionate lovemaking of the night before and the fact that she could not ever recall being this happy or feeling this adored.

Dylan took up a proprietary post next to Emily, all lazy, swaggering male. “Want me to get rid of Shillingsworth?” he asked.

Emily shook her head. “He has as much right to be here as any other customer, and if he wants to pay me several hundred dollars for the privilege, so be it.”

Dylan came closer and gently touched her cheek. “You know he just wants to make trouble.”

Emily's heart warmed, still she cautioned, “You don't need to protect me.”

Dylan grinned. “As you pointed out to me in the past, needing and wanting something are two different things. And since I am your, uh…”

“Pretend boyfriend?” Simone put in, from the other end of the griddle.

Emily blinked at the unexpected sarcasm.

“Hey.” Simone held up a hand in her own defense. “I know I owe you a debt of gratitude for everything you've done for my son, Dylan. Since Andrew started doing community service at Last Chance Ranch, he really is turning around, attitudewise. But that doesn't mean I want to see Emily hurt. And games that get this complicated usually end up hurting someone.”

“Well, it's not going to be either of us,” Emily told her friend firmly, exasperated to find yet another person trying to watch out for her. She looked the tall handsome cowboy in the eye. “Dylan and I know where we stand.”

The question was…would friends with temporary benefits be enough to make either of them happy, even for the short haul?

Fortunately, Emily had little time to think about it, as the café began to fill with cowboys looking for the day's bargain. Dylan went back to sit at the counter and keep an eye out for Shillingsworth. Emily and Simone manned the griddle and ovens, while Bobby Sue and Billy Ray Everett waited tables.

All would have gone smoothly, had it not been for the astonished scream, which reverberated through the Daybreak Café, a short time later.

Emily dropped what she was doing and rushed into the dining room. A female diner Emily had never seen before was standing, still screeching, and pointing at her plate. Aware that every head had turned toward the female diner, Emily raced forward. “What is it?”

“A cockroach!” the woman shrieked even louder. She pointed at her plate. “Right there!”

Sure enough, Emily noted in disgust, there was a dead three-inch cockroach, peeking out from beneath a half-eaten
Western omelet that Emily had prepared herself. Horrified, she grabbed the plate. “I am so sorry.”

“How could this have happened?” The woman threw down her napkin and bolted for the door, as if the hounds of hell were after her.

And so it went.

At seven-thirty, another patron Emily had never seen before found a shard of broken glass in his bowl of oatmeal.

At eight-fifteen, a young man in a college T-shirt discovered what looked like a mouse tail inside a breakfast tortilla.

Through it all, Xavier sat in his booth, a fake look of concern on his face.

By then, Emily's brothers had all come in to the café. They were standing with Dylan, near the cash register.

“Normally, I'm against physical solutions to problems….” Holden said.

Jeb squared his hat on his head. “But some pranks just aren't funny.”

Hank nodded grimly. “And a person needs to be shown the door.”

“I agree.” Dylan looked all three of Emily's brothers in the eye.

When had Dylan lost his outsider status and become one of them? Emily wondered in shock.

“Well, I don't.” She forced herself to keep a low profile. “I object to the kid garnering even that much attention.” She cast a look over her shoulder at the smugly observing teen. “Don't you guys get it? He wants to be the center of attention. He wants to be able to lodge a complaint that I refused to serve him.”

“You have every right to do so,” Jeb said.

“And if I do, he'll make a fuss and try to figure out a way to get it in the news. This isn't the kind of publicity that I want.

Trust me, guys. Just ignore him and he'll eventually give up, pay his bill and leave.”

All four men disagreed.

But for some reason Emily couldn't decipher, her three brothers looked to Dylan to decide. “It's whatever Emily wants,” Dylan said finally.

Emily had very little time to regret her decision.

Because just then, the door opened, and an inspector from the health department walked in.

 

“A
RE YOU OKAY
?”

Emily looked at Dylan, glad he had remained with her during the day's upheaval, yet uncertain how to answer that. She shut the blinds and put the Closed sign on the door. Turning back to Dylan, she ran a hand through her hair. “Considering the Daybreak Café just got an eighty-three out of a possible one hundred points?” Renewed horror ran through her. “Dylan, I've never gotten less than a ninety-eight!”

Dylan followed her into the kitchen. “The inspector knows those incidents this morning were bogus.”

It hadn't made a difference, though, Emily thought glumly. “He still had to come out and do his job. And give me demerits for the customer complaints, even though he couldn't find a single thing that would have substantiated the validity of the infractions.” Feeling weary to her soul, Emily sat down on a stainless-steel kitchen prep stool. She buried her face in her hands.

Dylan rested a compassionate hand on her shoulder. “If it's any consolation, your brothers and I still want to take Shillingsworth out behind the barn.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “McCabes don't do violence on others and you know it. It doesn't matter what the situation is, there is always a civil way to resolve it.”

His expression serious, Dylan pulled up a stool and faced her. “And a not so civil way,” he said bluntly.

Emily smiled. “You certainly inspired uncivil notions in me last night,” she murmured, the feel of his knee pressed against hers, reminding her of the unbridled pleasure they had discovered.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Same here…but we digress.”

Emily had never had a boyfriend so willing to take on her problems. “So we do.”

“It seems to me I heard tales of your dad dueling in the streets with that movie star Beauregard Chamberlain over your mother.”

“That was years ago, and he just did that to get my mother's attention. It's why she married my dad. Or so the legend goes.”

Their eyes locked, held. A feeling of peace stole over her.

“I could challenge him….”

Emily caught the humor in his glance. “I don't think so.”

“So what next?” Dylan asked eventually.

Emily traced the shape of his hand. “What do I want to happen? Or what do I think will happen?”

He caught her palm in his. “The latter.”

Emily relaxed into the comforting warmth of his grip. “I imagine my parents—” she winced as the sound of voices could be heard outside the back door “—will have gotten the news and be stopping by.”

Seconds later, Shane and Greta walked into the café kitchen, just as Emily had figured. Behind them was an entire contingent of McCabes. Brothers, sister-in-laws, aunts, uncles, cousins. Everyone, it seemed, who had been in the vicinity and was remotely available had joined the force.

Emily's aunt Claire, a noted lawyer, stepped forward. “You
may not be able to sue yet, but you can certainly send a formal cease-and-desist letter….”

Kevin McCabe, from the sheriff's department, advised, “I say we start an investigation.”

And that, Emily found, was just the beginning of the free-flowing support from her family and friends. Everyone had an idea. Everyone was willing to help.

Everyone except, it turned out, the person she most wanted at her side.

Several hours later, Emily found Dylan right where she expected him to be—on his ranch. For once though, he was laboring indoors. “Why did you leave?” she asked quietly, her emotions in turmoil as he ushered her inside his ranch office.

Looking handsome as could be in a blue chambray work shirt and jeans, he sat behind his oversize oak desk and squinted at the computer screen. “It was a McCabe family caucus. I'm not a McCabe.”

Emily edged closer, her heartbeat accelerating as she took in the familiar fragrance of sandalwood and spice. “You were welcome to stay.”

“I thought it was better, under the circumstances, if I didn't.”

Emily knew her family in its entirety could be overwhelming. They seemed that way to her sometimes. However, she still wanted Dylan to be a part of her life. And her extended relatives were a huge part of that.

He pushed Print and, rocking back in his chair, watched the invoices appear in the tray. “What did you come up with?”

Emily leaned against the corner of his desk. She liked the intimacy of being here with him like this. “My uncle is starting an investigation into who the customers actually were…where they came from. Apparently, after they made the calls
to the health department—which were from disposable cell phones—the accusers vanished into thin air.”

Dylan reached past her for a stack of preaddressed envelopes bearing the Last Chance Ranch logo. “Which makes you think they were part of the scam?”

Emily studied the movements of his large, capable hands, wondering how he could be so strong and yet so tender, too. “Beau thinks they may have been professional actors. He's using his connections to check with the talent agencies and theater troupes around the state.” She watched Dylan match the invoices to envelopes. “Hopefully, they'll find something soon. Unfortunately, Xavier has already tried to get it in the local news.”

He shifted his gaze to her face. “Any takers?”

“Not so far.” Emily twisted her lips in consternation. “Everyone smells a setup.”

Dylan added stamps. “As do I,” he said with a frown.

Restless, she stood and shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “All my regular customers are pretty enraged. The phone has been ringing off the hook.”

Dylan dropped the envelopes in the out basket. He switched off his computer and stood. “Is that why you came out here? To get away?”

And be with you.

But not sure how that revelation would go over, Emily swallowed.

“And help train the mustangs,” she said, wary of driving Dylan away with her sudden neediness. Because that was new, too. This wanting to be with a man more than anything else in the world.

She pushed on, “I know my family can be overwhelming at times…especially when they're all together….”

His expression became inscrutable. “I told you before, I don't do family drama,” he said.

Emily remembered but that explanation gave her only partial relief. Maybe because she was starting to want so much more.

But that hadn't been their agreement she reminded herself. Their agreement had been to be together as long as it was good, without trying to change each other. To live and let live…the way each had become accustomed to doing.

“Right. Anyway…” Emily moved closer. “We now know what Xavier meant when he said he was going to make me pay. The question is…” She paused to give her words weight. “What is he going to try and do to you?”

Dylan shrugged. “Nothing much he can do. Financially, I'm in good shape. And I doubt anything he would have to say about my horse-whispering abilities would hold up under scrutiny.”

Emily relaxed. “True. All potential customers would have to do is look at the mustangs, and how far they have come in just ten days, to know how talented you are.”

Dylan reached past her to turn off the desk lamp. “I also have a lot of current and former clients who will vouch for me.”

The near contact sent a thrill shimmering through her. Emily dropped her hands and stepped back. “I still think he's going to try and hurt you, the way he hurt me today.”

“And I think we shouldn't worry about it. Not tonight, anyway.” Dylan slid a hand beneath her elbow and steered her out the door, toward the paddock where the mustangs were quartered. He grinned. “Not when your three pals are waiting to see you.”

To Emily's delight, they spent the next few hours working with all three horses. Dylan still would not let Emily get all the way up in the saddle with Ginger—he wanted the horse to get used to Emily's presence at her side first. So they worked out, this time in complete accordance with Dylan's wishes.
Then they fed and watered the mustangs, before heading to the ranch house.

“You staying for dinner?” Dylan asked Emily casually as they crossed the threshold.

Her heartbeat accelerated. “You inviting me?” She worked to keep her voice casual.

Dylan nodded, matter-of-fact. “We could go out. My treat this time.”

Emily groaned at the thought. “Please don't make me go back to town, not tonight. I don't want to run into anyone who wants to talk about the sabotage, and I sure as heck don't want to look at the Cowtown Diner from my apartment.”

“Then here on the ranch, it is. Got anything to change into?”

Emily had made sure to replenish the “wardrobe” in the trunk of her car. Glad things had returned to normal between them, she winked and picked up the pace. “Several things, as a matter of fact.”

An hour later, both of them had showered and changed into fresh clothes. Dylan stood at the stove, searing, in a cast-iron skillet, two rib eye steaks he'd pulled from the freezer.

Realizing this was how “friends with benefits” operated, Emily found a package of mixed veggies to steam in the microwave, and a crusty loaf of bread. Cold bottles of beer and hunks of white cheddar completed the menu.

“That looks delicious,” she said, as the two of them set their meal on his kitchen table.

Dylan got out the steak sauce. “I'm good at everything I do. Or hadn't you noticed?”

Emily added napkins. “Modest, too.”

“Hey.” He made no effort to stifle a cheeky grin. “It ain't braggin' if you've done it.”

Emily gave him an amused once-over. “Spoken like a true Texan,” she drawled right back.

His gaze roved her V-necked T and jeans, before returning to her face and hair. “You look good in here.” His gaze lingered on her lips.

Emily tingled in every place his eyes had touched, and some places they hadn't. “Right at home, hmm?”

He held out her chair. “Like you belong.” He paused, hand on the top rung, then added, more specifically, “On a ranch—not in an apartment in town.”

Emily's hopes lifted and fell in short order. Again, she shook it off. So Dylan hadn't said what she'd initially thought he had meant. So what? He was still paying her a compliment.

She patted his arm amiably in return. “Those steaks look good.” She turned away. “Let's eat.”

Dylan caught her by the waist and brought her back against him. While her pulse raced, he gently nipped her ear, lifted the veil of her hair and kissed her throat. “And after that,” he whispered sexily, “I've got plans for us, too….”

 

D
YLAN WAS AS GOOD
as his word.

Unfortunately, the bedside alarm went off at three-thirty.

Emily groaned as it continued to blare in her ears. Normally, she didn't mind getting up and going to the café. Cooking in the early morning to an appreciative crowd was one of her very favorite things.

But then, she thought, stretching languidly, most days she hadn't been up most of the night making love. Most nights she hadn't fallen asleep wrapped in Dylan's warm, strong arms.

He reached over and shut off the sound of country radio. With a moan that echoed her own reluctance, he nuzzled her hair affectionately. “Tell me you heard that.”

Emily groaned again. “I heard it.” Her voice was muffled against the satiny skin of his shoulder.

He chuckled, kissing her again. “Tell me you're getting up.”

Emily opened her eyes and slowly sat up. “Against my will…I am.” She reached over to take his hand. “Thanks for a great night,” she said softly, knowing she had never felt so appreciated and well loved.

He kissed her knuckles tenderly. “Ditto.”

They looked at each other in companionable silence.

Emily had no idea what was on his mind, but there were many things on hers, none of which were permissible to say under their current arrangement. Things like…
I know what we agreed upon but I might be falling in love with you, anyway.
Or…
I wish I never had to leave, that we never had to be apart again.

And even…
How would you feel if we changed the rules…just a little bit?

But Emily couldn't say any of that because she was a McCabe and she had given her word that her fling with Dylan was casual and temporary. And like it or not, she had to honor that commitment as surely as she would have honored any other that she made.

So she reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.

Through sheer force of will, she tossed back the covers—and saw Dylan's gaze drift hotly over everything that wasn't covered by eyelet lace camisole and tap pants, as well as everything that was.

Emily felt a flashpoint of desire that resonated deep within her heart. “If I don't get up now,” she told him, resisting the magnetic pull between them, “we both know what will happen.” The same thing that had happened last night…and the time before that…

Regret that she was leaving glimmered briefly in his eyes. Fortunately for them both, he too was a realist.

Dylan threw back his covers and got up. “You're absolutely right about that,” he agreed gruffly.

For once in her life, Emily found herself wishing she weren't quite so independent and strong willed. She headed for her clothes, tossing the casual words over her shoulder. “So…I'm out of here as soon as I'm dressed.”

Dylan was right behind her. He clamped a possessive hand on her shoulder. “I'll go to town with you.”

That was a surprise, since the diner wouldn't be open for several more hours. Emily turned, curious. “Assigning yourself my protector?”

Dylan shrugged. “Something like that.” He paused. “Do you mind?”

Emily shook her head. “Not at all.”

 

F
OR
E
MILY AND
D
YLAN
, the next few days were blissfully calm and happy. The two of them worked with the mustangs every afternoon, ate dinner together each night and then made love. Dylan drove into town with Emily in the mornings and had breakfast with her before heading back to the ranch to work.

Their only worry was another onslaught from their teenage nemesis. Fortunately, the “McCabe posse” was having some success linking the incidents in the café to Emily's competitor, and they hoped to soon have enough proof to be able to simultaneously pursue legal action and clear her name with the health department authorities.

“Well, I for one, am glad to see Shillingsworth get what he had coming to him today,” Simone said Thursday afternoon, when the Daybreak Café had finally closed and all that was left was the cleanup.

Bobbie Sue and Billy Ray brought in filled bins of dirty dishes and silverware and began loading them into the big commercial dishwasher. “The Cowtown Diner didn't have a single customer today, except for a few tourists who wandered in at midday,” Bobbie Sue said.

Billy Ray added, “And it's been that way for the last three days.”

Andrew walked in from school, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Shillingsworth has started laying off staff. Half my friends who got jobs there got let go yesterday, due to lack of business.”

The past couple of weeks had been so tumultuous, in so many ways. Emily didn't want to take anything for granted. She grimaced. “It could still pick up.”

Everyone else exchanged looks. “I don't think so,” they all said finally, in unison.

“People have wised up,” Simone declared. “It doesn't matter how young or inexperienced or even rich he is. They know who and what he is. They're not going to support his kind of tactics.”

“Yeah,” Andrew said, helping himself to a leftover piece of pie and a glass of milk. “There are too many good guys around here, like Dylan, for anyone to put up with someone that cutthroat and mean-spirited.”

Emily breathed a sigh of relief. “I just wish it hadn't happened.” The uneven business had wreaked havoc with her books.

Which was why she had finally allowed Jeb to bring his friend over to meet her.

 

D
YLAN HAD JUST FINISHED
paying the farrier when Xavier walked into the stable.

“Falling down on the job, aren't you, cowboy?” Shillingsworth began.

Not sure whether to feel sorry for him or just loathe him completely, Dylan took a firm grip on the kid's arm and propelled him away from the quartered mustangs, who had just had their feet trimmed and their first set of shoes put on.

Left to the wild, and their own devices, they would not
have needed protection on their tender feet, since wild horses moved from place to place only when necessary. But now that they were becoming domesticated, the horses would be expected to cover greater distances, often on hard ground. Hence, protecting their hooves was essential.

Dylan continued pushing Shillingsworth out the door. “I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than visit me.”

“You're right about that.” The kid regarded him with derision. “But I didn't want to let the opportunity go by to clue you in on your lady friend.”

“This isn't high school,” Dylan announced flatly.

“Meaning what?” Xavier taunted. “Because you and Emily are over twenty, you both have an open relationship? Because if that's the case it would certainly explain why she's sitting in the café, getting cozy with that guy her brother took over to meet her a little while ago.”