Tall, Dark and Cowboy (8 page)

The truck hit a bump, jarring Lacey out of her memories. She realized she’d been staring unseeing at the road ahead while she slid down the slippery slope of memory lane. It was a miracle they hadn’t ended up in a ditch.

Maybe that’s what they needed, though. The air in the cab shimmered with tension from all they’d left unsaid. Maybe she needed to shake things up a little.

Cranking the wheel to the right, she bounced onto the rocky shoulder and pitched the truck down onto the weedy strip bordering the road. Chase slapped one hand on the dashboard and held on, turning to her with a wide-eyed stare.

“Hey, you’re so hot on this four-wheeling thing, I figured I’d try it.” She steered along a barbed wire fence, then fishtailed around a corner, letting the rear wheels slide until they gripped the dirt and heaved the truck forward. “This is kind of fun.”

“Get back on the road,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, come on. You said she was made for rocky terrain, right?”

“Not this rocky terrain. You need to get out of this hayfield.”

“Hayfield?” She laughed. There wasn’t a scrap of hay where she was driving—just an occasional tangle of thistles and clumps of spiky yucca sticking up from the bare, cracked dirt. “This isn’t a hayfield. This is a desert.”

“Fletcher Galt thinks it’s a hayfield,” Chase said. “And since he owns it and he’ll shoot anybody who trespasses, you’d better turn left.”

“He’ll shoot us? You’re kidding.”

“He shot one of my cattle.”

“Holy crap. You’re not too civilized out here in Wyoming, are you?”

“Fletcher wouldn’t be civilized if he lived in Buckingham Palace. He’d probably shoot the queen if she crossed him.”

He grunted as she veered left onto a dirt two-track that was almost invisible under a cloak of grass and weeds. The truck lurched over a washout and plunged into a wooded area scattered with boulders.

“That better?” Lacey shot him a grin. Back when she was a kid she’d loved to have outdoor adventures—swimming at the quarry, building bonfires, creating all those teenaged memories—but she hadn’t done anything like that in years. She’d been hovering like a ghost in the air-conditioned confines of Trent’s big house for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to be real, to
do
things. Cranking down the driver’s-side window, she propped her arm on the track and enjoyed the heat of the sun on her skin.

The truck took every obstacle in stride, heaving over the rocks like a lumbering beast. Stray limbs from the trees bordering the long-abandoned road thwapped the doors as they passed, and the sound reminded her of running onto the field at the Lions games with the cheer squad, the team in their pads and helmets high-fiving them as they bounded onto the field. She could almost hear the cheers of the crowd. It made her feel like the old Lacey again—her perky, confident self.

The pickup humped over another washout, and she returned her attention to the road and downshifted. The front end heaved upward and crashed down, then repeated the motion as the rear tires topped a massive rock. Easing out the clutch, she pressed the accelerator, frowning when their forward motion failed to resume.

“What the…” She pressed the accelerator again, harder this time. The truck roared, tires spinning uselessly as mud spattered the rock behind them.

“Ease up,” Chase shouted over the racket. “Ease up!”

She let up on the pedal and felt the truck inch forward, then dip. There was a harsh grating noise as the rock scraped the truck’s undercarriage, and the tires spun again. Looking left and right, she realized they weren’t in a washout; she’d driven into a creek. Ahead was a muddy bank; beyond that, a swampy morass of mud and tufted grass. She turned and looked behind her.

“Oops.”

The rock she’d driven over loomed surprisingly large in the rearview mirror.

Chase lifted himself out of the seat to lean out the window, gazing ahead. The move put his butt right at eye level, so she couldn’t help looking—especially since his jeans were worn white at the seat in testament to the hard work that had built those flexing muscles. He shifted to look behind them, his biceps swelling to lift the weight of his broad shoulders. It was incredible to think that her geeky, gangly friend had turned into this—this
stud.
She could barely believe it was the same guy.

She eyed his slim hips and smiled. Yup, it was Chase. It said so on the back of his belt, in fancy letters tooled into the leather. He’d worn a belt like that all through school, apparently unaware that having his name emblazoned on his backside was hardly a fashion statement. Apparently, his sense of style hadn’t grown with the rest of him.

So maybe he really hadn’t changed that much. Maybe the old Chase was still in there somewhere.

He pitched back into the seat, then opened the door and climbed down from the high cab.

Lacey set her hand on the gear shift, ready for action. “You going to push?”

“I’m going to drive.” He edged around the front of the truck, balancing on the rocks that jutted out of the flowing water. In moments he was at her window, gesturing for her to open the door. She opened the window instead.

“I think I can make it if you push,” she said.

He gave her a deadpan look, then headed for the back of the truck. She watched in the rearview as he set both hands on the tailgate and braced himself against the boulder. Focusing on the rocky path ahead, she set both hands on the wheel and bit her lower lip until it hurt.
Don’t gun it
.
Take
it
easy.

“Don’t gun it,” he said.

“I
know
.”

She gripped the wheel and eased up on the clutch, watching Chase in the rearview mirror. His face was set in concentration, his jaw jutting forward. As their eyes met in the mirror, she finally recognized the Chase Caldwell she’d known—the old friend she’d come here to find. The jolt of recognition brought all her old feelings for him back—friendship, caring, and most of all, trust. She had always trusted him.

And looking into those brown eyes, she knew she still could. He might be angry, he might be difficult, he might have changed in a million ways. But the sign at the dealership hadn’t lied.

You could depend on Chase Caldwell.

She smiled, and he looked away, giving her a sharp nod and cutting the moment off as abruptly as an ax splitting wood. She eased up on the clutch a little more, simultaneously pressing the accelerator, then jammed on the brake as the truck lurched backward.

Chase disappeared from the mirror, and all she could see was trees and rock.

Damn. Just when she’d figured out she could trust him, she’d gone and killed the guy.

His face suddenly popped back into view in the mirror. She didn’t want to meet his eyes now. He looked furious.

“Go forward!
Forward!
You’re in reverse, Lacey!”

“Sorry.” She shoved the stick into first and tried again, but she caught his eyes and the anger in his gaze made her panic. She gunned it. The tires spun and mud flew, spattering his face and chest. He put his head down and pushed anyway, his arms straightening as the truck inched forward. She held her breath and gave it a little gas.

The engine died. The truck lurched backward again, and she looked in the mirror to catch a look of horror on Chase’s face before he dropped from sight again.

When he reappeared at her window, she thought maybe she should run over him in self-defense, because he looked mad enough to kill her
.
Maybe she should make a preemptive strike.

Or maybe it was time to get the peace process under way.

“Sorry.” She smiled hesitantly. “I think we’re stuck.”

“
You’re
stuck,” he said. “
I’ll
get us out of here. Move over.”

She started to protest, then sighed and did as he said. She’d made two stupid mistakes, first leaving the truck in reverse, then letting it stall. She couldn’t blame him for losing faith in her driving abilities.

“You want me to push?” she asked.

He shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I think a decent driver can handle this without a push.”

“I’m a decent driver,” she said. “I just forgot I had it in reverse. And then it stalled. Guess this jalopy isn’t the gem you made it out to be.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the truck.” He cranked the engine to life and edged forward. She was almost disappointed when it responded and inched forward.

“I set it up for you,” she said. “If it hadn’t stalled, I’d have gotten us out of here.”

He ignored her. She wasn’t sure if the noise in the cab was the engine growling or Chase, but the end result was another spin of the tires.

Without a word, he yanked open his door and slid out of the cab. Stomping and cursing, he circled the truck, then stood in front of it and scratched his head as he regarded their predicament.

Lacey opened her door and slid from the cab, setting her high-heeled foot carefully on a rock, only to slip and end up ankle-deep in the stream.

“Shoot.” She picked her way through the rocks, ignoring the cold water. If it hadn’t been ruining her shoes, it would have felt good.

Joining him in front of the truck, she eyed their situation and sighed, blowing a stubborn strand of hair out of her face. The truck was stuck, all right. The left front tire was wedged between two rocks, and the right one had spun a deep trench into the streambed. The rock behind the rear wheels seemed to have grown since she’d driven over it.

“I’m going to have to call Cody,” he said.

“Who’s Cody?”

“Guy with a winch.” He waded back to the truck, sloshing water onto her capris. “Damn,” he said. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“You can tell him it was my fault,” she said.

“I sure will.” He glowered down at the phone he’d taken from his pocket and stabbed at the keypad.

“I won’t tell him how it was your stupid truck that got us stuck.”

That spunky response was vintage Lacey, and suddenly Chase felt their old friendship reasserting itself. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, and except for that one night, they’d never been close, but they’d always joked around like Burns and Allen, her playing zany Gracie to his George.

He couldn’t help smiling. “You’re not going to give an inch, are you?”

“Why should I?” Her voice wavered a little, and he knew he’d win this one.

“You can’t drive for shit,” he said. “And you’ll never admit it.”

“Well, you’ll never admit this truck’s a piece of crap. Made for off-road driving, my… patootie.”

She hadn’t sworn in high school either. She played tough, but she had more euphemisms in her vocabulary than an old maid aunt.

“You still don’t curse, do you?”

She looked away. “No. Only when I’m really mad. And I guess this was kind of my fault.” She looked back at the rock, her green eyes tearful. “You’re the one who’s probably mad.”

She looked away, blinking fast. Damn. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. And the truck probably wasn’t the gem he’d made it out to be. But at least it had been clean. Now it was spattered with mud from its white sidewalls to the fog lights on top.

So was he. His ass felt damp where he’d landed on it when she’d backed into him, and the front of his shirt was speckled with goop. He put a hand up to brush his hair back from his forehead and felt a glob of mud matting the hank that fell over his face.

He keyed a text message into the phone. Cody would come and pull them out. He was the fry cook at the diner, and he spent every penny of his limited income on a Jeep that looked like something out of a cartoon and could probably haul an elephant out of the mud-slicked banks of the Ganges. The Dodge would be no problem.

The phone beeped back immediately, and he scanned the reply.

“Cody’s on his way.” He looked at Lacey, who quickly dashed away a tear that was dangling from her lower lashes. “It’s okay, Lacey.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and hopeful. Her reluctance to curse wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed since high school. She still had that knockout combination of indomitable spirit and sweet vulnerability that had captivated him since sixth grade. A moment ago, she’d been barreling down the fence line like a seasoned four-wheeler; now she was hesitant and scared. She’d gone from trucker chick to delicate flower in six seconds, shifting gears faster than a Grand Prix racer.

It was those eyes. Looking into Lacey’s eyes was like looking into the jagged, icebound heart of a glacier, but instead of chilling him, her gaze warmed him from the inside out. And right now, there was a question there he couldn’t quite interpret. Was she asking if he’d forgive her for getting them stuck? Or was she asking him to kiss her?

He sure as hell wanted to kiss her. A warning bell chimed in the back of his mind, reminding him he’d never gotten over their last kiss, urging him to back off, but most of him was on autopilot, overwhelmed by the way her closeness set his blood humming in his veins and the way she smelled, all peaches and soap and sex.

She looked expectant, with her pink lips parted as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath, and suddenly kissing her seemed like an easier choice than pulling away. He lowered his head to hers and brought one hand up to cup the back of her head while he wrapped the other arm around her shoulders. He almost pulled her off her feet in his rush to draw her close.

She felt just as soft and giving and sweet as he remembered, her curves round but firm. Kissing her didn’t feel like the start of something new; it felt like a continuation of the long-running fantasy he’d been enmeshed in half his life. In the years since he’d known her, he’d bedded a dozen women, but every one of them had been Lacey when the lights went out. And if they wanted to do it with the lights on, that had been okay. All he had to do was close his eyes.

Thinking of Lacey had worked for years, putting distance between his heart and the women he slept with and keeping it safe. After all, you couldn’t lose what you’d never had. And the idea of Lacey ever being in his arms for real had been laughably unlikely, especially once he’d moved to Wyoming.

Or so he’d believed.

He pulled her toward him, and her body molded to his, her breasts pressing into his chest. He dipped to taste her lips, and she parted them easily, letting him trace the soft skin inside her lower lip, letting him lick the slight fullness below her cupid’s bow with the tip of his tongue before he rededicated himself to living this moment as completely as he could.

Because it was too much of a miracle to ever be repeated. He needed to memorize every detail. The brush of her breath on his cheek, the faint scent of warm skin and sunshine, the teasing tickle of her hair on his arm. He moved his hand down to cup her breast, savoring the warmth of her skin, hoarding every sensation like ammunition that would protect him from all the other women who might share his bed. Women like Krystal, who didn’t care whether he gave them his heart as long as he gave them a good time and paid for dinner.

He pulled away and watched her tilt her face to the sun. There was Lacey as he’d always pictured her, eyes closed, lips parted, her thick, dark lashes lying on her pale cheeks. She looked like a woman in ecstasy, a woman in love, and for a heartfelt half-second, his heart swelled at the possibility she could be his.

Take that, Trent Bradford.

He slapped that thought away. Getting back at Trent Bradford had been part of the fantasy—but that wasn’t what this moment was about. It was about love. Revisiting old times. Rekindling old flames.

Revitalizing an unhealthy obsession.

***

A harsh, grating noise suddenly swelled from the trees beyond the truck. Lacey snapped back to reality as the sound grew louder, the snapping of tree limbs accompanying it like a percussion backbeat.

“It’s Cody,” Chase said. “We’re saved.”

He didn’t look like a man who wanted to be saved. He looked like a man who wanted something else—something more than a kiss.

“Saved,” she echoed.

But the vehicle that crashed into sight in a copse of trees didn’t look like any kind of savior. It reminded her of the Jabberwocky in
Alice
in
Wonderland
, whiffling through the tulgey wood and burbling as it came. The headlights, set high on the hood, looked like wide googly eyes, and the cast steel bumper created a sneering mouth.

The thing was terrifying.

It slid to a stop five feet away, spattering muck every which way. A wiry man in a stained white T-shirt jumped from the driver’s seat. Lacey couldn’t tell if he was tanned or dirty, but his teeth flashed white and his loose-limbed grace indicated he was in his element crashing through the woods. His sunlit brown hair looked like it had been hacked off at random intervals with a pair of dull scissors, and he clearly hadn’t shaved for days.

“Man, you are stuck,” he announced. “Stuck good. What the hell you doing out here, buddy?”

Lacey picked her way around the front of the pickup, watching her step in the rocky terrain. When she looked up, both men were staring at her.

“Oh,” the Jeep driver said. A knowing smile split his lean face. “Got it. You sure you’re ready to leave? I can give you two a minute.”

“There’s nothing to stay for,” Chase said.

“You sure?” Cody gave her a long head-to-toe look. It wasn’t sexy like Chase’s; it was amused.

She was probably a muddy mess.

“I fell in the mud,” she said.

Cody grinned. “Sure you did.”

He shot a knowing glance at Chase, and she looked down to see that a perfectly clear five-fingered handprint marked her tank top, right over her left breast. She remembered Chase’s hand brushing her breast. As the memory flooded her mind, her body reacted, her nipples tightening against the cold, wet fabric.

The men probably knew exactly what she was thinking. She blushed, her chest and neck suffused with heat. Flushed pink skin probably made the situation even worse. She crossed her arms to cover herself and looked Cody straight in the eye.

“I fell in the mud. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

“Well, all right.” He scratched his head and pondered the stuck truck. “Let’s get started, then.” He turned to face her. “Since Doofus here isn’t going to introduce us, I’ll do it myself. I’m Cody. Work at the diner, but I’m a knight in shining armor the rest of the time.” He gestured toward the Jeep. “Me and Sal. Lot of people get stuck on these country roads.”

“The diner? Oh, you work with Pam.” Lace realized now that she’d seen him before, behind the pass-through at the diner. He’d been clean then, but it was the same guy.

“Sure do.” He grew suddenly serious. “You know her?”

Lacey nodded.

“Put in a good word for me, would you? Tell her I rescued you and all that.”

“Sure.” Lacey tried to picture Pam with this wild man and failed. “I’ll tell her.”

Cody strolled around the pickup in a slow circle, taking in its awkward position. Shaking his head, he shifted his grin toward Chase.

“How the hell did you do this?”

“I didn’t. She did.”

“You let her drive?”

“It was a test drive,” Lacey said.

“You going to buy it?”

“Nope.” She hiked herself up on a boulder and crossed her legs. “Gets stuck too easy.”

Cody laughed. “I’ll get Sal past you here and pull you over the creek. There’s a clearing a ways up there where you can turn around. If you’re careful, you can get through this area just fine.”

“Yeah,” Chase said, shooting Lacey a glare. “If you’re careful.”

Cody started the Jeep and roared to the front of the truck, the huge tires clearing rocks like they were pebbles. Unwinding a thick rope from a pulley on the back, Chase headed for the pickup. He bent over the bumper, struggling to fasten a huge hook onto the vehicle’s frame. Lacey couldn’t help enjoying the view as his Wranglers stretched over his butt and his shirt hiked up to reveal the muscles flexing in his back.

“Got it?” Cody yelled when Chase rose and headed back to the driver’s seat.

“Got it.”

Lacey hastily jumped from her rock as Chase started the truck and the two vehicles began moving, Cody’s Jeep rolling steadily through the stream while the winch tightened. The pickup’s tires spun briefly, flinging mud, then gripped the ground. The truck tilted and creaked as Chase negotiated the stream and drove up the bank, following Cody off into the woods.

Lacey leaned against a tree, listening to the engines fading in the distance. She wondered briefly if they’d left her behind, but soon the noise increased and the pickup roared into sight, splashing through the stream and heaving up the bank to stop just beyond the rock where they’d gotten stuck.

Lacey looked across the stream.

“Where’s Cody?”

“He took off. There’s another way through the woods to the county road.”

She glanced warily at Chase. Had he sent his friend off so they could be alone? So they could finish what they’d started? He was looking at her like he could see her naked.

She looked down at her shirt and realized she might as well be. The handprint still stood out clearly over her breast, and everything under her shirt stood out clearly, too. Her thin cotton bra was no help at all.

“Oh, God.” She tried to flick off the mud but it only made things worse. “I hope I can get back to the motel and change before anyone sees me like this.”

“There’s no way you’d get in without everybody seeing you. Maybe you could rinse off in the stream. Kind of smear that around.” He looked away, embarrassed, and she was suddenly embarrassed herself. What had she been thinking? That kiss had been a mistake—for both of them.

She sighed. “I guess.”

Mincing down the muddy bank, she bent over the water and cupped it in her hands, splashing it over her chest. It was cold enough to make the bones of her hand ache, but it felt good on her hot skin. Besides, it was the closest thing she could find to a cold shower.

She looked down at her shirt. Instead of being marked with a handprint, it was now a uniform shade of brown, and the fabric was wet through and clung even more tightly to her breasts.

Turning, she caught Chase staring at her and straightened, suddenly self-conscious. Judging from his expression, he needed a cold shower too.

“Here.” He extended a hand and helped her up the bank. When she reached the truck, she teetered a little and put out one hand to steady herself against his chest.

To heck with cold showers. She splayed her fingers and ran her hand up his chest and over his shoulder. When she slid her fingers into his hair, he bent his head and brushed her lips with his, reviving the kiss and all the feelings that went with it.