The Trouble With Cowboys (12 page)
“Will do.”
“I’m headed home, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“Of course, dear.”
She bent and kissed Mom’s cheek. “Bye, Mom. I love you.”
Mom’s eyelids blinked but her focus never strayed from the window. Closing her eyes, Amy imagined her mom saying
I love you
back, and said a silent prayer for her to have a restful sleep that night. Then it was time to go.
I love you
back, and said a silent prayer for her to have a restful sleep that night. Then it was time to go.
On her jog down the stairs, she shook off the melancholy of the visit, forcibly turning her mind to the short ribs Mr. Dixon was preparing for dinner. She imagined opening the squeaky front door to the aroma of braised meat and red wine sauce. She wanted to hug Tommy and be henpecked by Rachel. She wanted to run her finger through the nicks on the stair rail from the time she and Jenna pretended to fix it with horse hoof files, and she wanted to read a passage from the crumbling leather Bible that had belonged to her grandmother.
She wanted to go home.
Chapter 8
Friday night, Amy stuffed a condom into her purse and wondered why such a smart choice made her feel so stupid. Then she looked at the condom, its round ridge obvious beneath the cellophane wrapper, and pictured Kellan rolling it on in a display of glorious virility. Sucking in a sharp, lusty breath, she grabbed another condom.
Once Jenna had made it clear she’d be no help in finalizing a deal with Slipping Rock Ranch, Amy had asked around about alternative beef suppliers, and everyone—from produce growers to cheese makers, poultry farmers to the manager at a restaurant supply warehouse—said the same thing. No other beef compared to the cattle raised by Kellan Reed at Slipping Rock Ranch. And how convenient, a few people pointed out, that she and Kellan were neighbors.
Despite her determination that the dinner be purely a business meeting, she’d spent the better part of the day in a state of semi-arousal, fantasizing about his kiss, his hands, and his body. Around lunchtime, her distraction got the better of her and she nicked her finger again while julienning carrots. The man was ruining her ability to wield a blade.
As she stood at the kitchen sink, flushing the cut with water, she made the call. Time to stop fighting what her body wanted. The best way to prevent herself from falling in love with a cowboy again was to control the situation. Keep it about the sex, don’t get sucked into personal conversations—don’t start to care. It was a bastardized version of rule number one, but if she was powerless to keep her body away from cowboys, which was certainly true where Kellan was concerned, then she needed to work doubly hard to keep her emotions at a safe distance.
Her tiny, black purse barely had enough space for a coin pouch, cell phone, and lipstick, much less condoms. She’d have to be careful not to accidentally flip one out when she paid for her half of dinner. Kellan seemed like the sort of man who didn’t allow a woman to pay her own way, but Amy was determined not to let the evening devolve into a date. All she wanted tonight was to settle the Slipping Rock business deal and one last cowboy booty call.
She took one final look at herself in the mirror. Easy-up skirt? Check. Easy-off panties? Check. Not that he needed to remove her thong to get to the action. The bright pink fabric was thin and pliant, easy to pull to the side. Damn, her pulse sped and her skin grew tingly just thinking about him doing that to her in his truck. Maybe they didn’t need to waste time going to dinner first. Drawing a flustered breath, she grabbed three more condoms and wedged them into the purse.
In front of the mirror, she smoothed her skirt, made sure the gals were evenly distributed in her bra, and grabbed her purse. The cellophane wrappers crinkled shamelessly. Mortified, she hustled to the bathroom and stuffed tissues into the crevices of the purse’s interior to blunt the noise.
A knock sounded at her bedroom door.
“It’s open.”
Rachel poked her head in. “Kellan’s here. He’s waiting downstairs.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right down.”
“Jenna asked me to remind you about drawing up a supply contract with him, but I have a better idea. How about I tell him you need to cancel the date and I’ll handle the contract negotiation myself?”
Tempting. Probably, that would be the most prudent course of action. Then again, if she didn’t get laid tonight like she’d been banking on all afternoon, there wasn’t enough celery in the county she could dice to burn off all that unsatisfied sexual energy.
“Thanks, but no thanks, Rachel. I’ll discuss it with him tonight.”
After he satisfies my more pressing needs.
After he satisfies my more pressing needs.
Rachel indulged in a beleaguered sigh. “Fine. But mark my words. You’re going to regret this.” Amy sent her a look of warning. “Since you’re so stubborn, when you talk to him about the contract, would you feel him out about my idea to offer supplier tours to our guests? It would be a great way for him to earn extra publicity and revenue with no risk involved.”
“Yeah, I’ll feel him out.” Amy grabbed the purse and winced at the faint crackle of cellophane. “I mean, about the tours.” Thank goodness Jenna wasn’t around or this conversation would have turned in a whole different direction, straight toward dirty.
With as much dignity as possible while holding her purse of sin, Amy attempted to squeeze past her sister.
“Amy?” Good Lord, she hated the way Rachel said her name when she was about to start in on a lecture.
“I don’t want to hear it, Rach.”
Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “Look, you need to take care of yourself. Don’t fall for this guy. He’s a player.”
“I know what he is. I’m not looking to start a relationship anyhow, with all that’s going on. I just need to blow off some steam.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Amy hitched her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “I don’t know. Sounds like a personal problem to me.” She started down the stairs. “Do me a favor and don’t wait up.”
Rachel snorted, but otherwise remained silent as she followed Amy.
Kellan stood in the living room near the Christmas tree, staring at the photograph above the mantel, Rachel’s picture of Sidewinder Mesa at dawn. For the first time since she’d met him, he wasn’t dressed like a cowboy. He wasn’t wearing boots, bolo tie, or a belt buckle. The Stetson she’d looked forward to knocking off his head was absent as well. But even fancified in chinos, black leather dress shoes, and a tailored, button-down shirt, he was still the hottest guy she’d seen in a long, long time.
When he turned to regard her as she descended the stairs, something in his expression made her pause, some feeling he wanted to mask.
Nope. Couldn’t think about that. Because then she’d ask what was bothering him and they’d start talking. He might open up to her. She might try to comfort him. And heaven help her heart if she started down that slippery slope.
He walked to meet her at the base of the staircase, his jaw tight, his smile strained. When he took her hand, his was slightly damp, like maybe he was nervous. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded to Rachel. “I won’t have her home too late.”
Amy narrowed her eyes, studying him. Those weren’t the words of a man preparing for a night of seduction. Or maybe he wanted it as hard and fast as she did. If that were the case, this booty call wouldn’t take any time at all. Hell, they didn’t even need to leave her property.
Rachel handed Amy her coat. “Why should I care what she does so long as she’s here to feed the pigs in the morning?”
Amy ignored the vitriol in her sister’s tone.
She and Kellan walked in awkward silence to his truck. With a hand on her elbow, he helped her to the passenger seat and closed the door. The truck smelled of him, of work and dust and the kind of manly soap that was liable to burn a hole in a woman’s skin if she let it sit too long. She breathed in deeply and considered how little she knew of Kellan’s life, how he viewed the world, what made him laugh.
“Idiot,” she muttered, smacking herself on the forehead. Instead of wanting to pick Kellan’s brain, she should be concentrating on picking his clothes off. Leaving her seat belt undone, she took stock of the truck’s potential. It didn’t have much of a backseat, so that option was out. She tested the center console and discovered it to be the flip-up kind. Nice. Nodding with satisfaction, she pushed her seat back as far as it would go, tucked her purse at her side, and stretched her boot-clad legs out.
Kellan climbed behind the wheel and turned the truck toward the highway. The hint of tension remained in the lines of his face and the set of his shoulders. He stared straight ahead, and with the death grip he had on the steering wheel, Amy wouldn’t be surprised if he were losing feeling in his fingers.
After a couple minutes, she reached across the divide and fingered his sleeve. He flinched and, as if she’d jump-started his voice box, began to chatter. “I know I offered to cook dinner for you at my place, but I think it’s a better idea to go out. We have reservations for the restaurant at the Mesa Verde Inn. It’s a bit out of the way, but quiet and low-key. Marla Ray does a nice dinner there, seasonal, good enough quality for a chef like you to appreciate. I figured we could use the drive to talk. I don’t even know where you lived before this week.”
His anxiety was charming. One would think after the righteous nooner they had on Saturday and the blazing kiss they shared on Sunday, he’d be over his nerves. Guess dinner was a different story.
“I lived in Los Angeles. Worked as a line cook at a hot spot named Terra Bistro.”
He nodded, but hadn’t yet looked her way. “Did you go to culinary school?”
“Yes, straight out of high school. After I graduated, I moved to New York for culinary school, then Paris for a year to continue my studies, then back to New York to apprentice under some big-name chefs in the area.”
Until I crashed and burned on a televised chef competition and fled the vicious Big Apple gossip scene.
But she didn’t feel like talking about that hiccup right now. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask about it. “And I ended up with the great job I told you about in L.A. Which is where I worked until a week ago.”
Until I crashed and burned on a televised chef competition and fled the vicious Big Apple gossip scene.
But she didn’t feel like talking about that hiccup right now. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask about it. “And I ended up with the great job I told you about in L.A. Which is where I worked until a week ago.”
“You quit a great job to return to Catcher Creek?”
“Quit my job, sold my condo, cashed in all my chips. My mom and sisters needed me, so this is where I had to be. It was a no-brainer.”
He peeled a white-knuckled hand from the steering wheel and ran a finger under his collar, like he wasn’t getting enough air through his windpipe. A bead of sweat materialized on his temple. “So your family’s farm is everything you have now?” His voice cracked and something like sadness blossomed in his eyes. Was it regret? Pity?
She shrugged a shoulder, playing her problems off as though they were nothing to be concerned about—which tonight, at this moment, they weren’t. “It’s all any of my family members have anymore, and I could tell you more about it, which wouldn’t be very interesting. Or . . .” She flipped up the console and stretched her arm into his lap. Lucky for him, she knew the best way to ease a cowboy’s troubled mind was through his—
“Hey, now.” He removed her hand from his zipper and glanced her way, blinking fast. “Amy, what are you doing? We’re not even off your farm.”
She hitched a knee up on the seat and angled her body toward his. One by one, she popped the buttons open on his shirt. “All the better. Why don’t you turn right at that post? The road leads to our northwest pasture. Our family hasn’t used it in years.” She eased her hand beneath his shirt and found an undershirt. Undeterred, she grabbed a handful of the cotton fabric and tugged. “The valley’s totally secluded.”
With her hand on his bare chest, she felt the shallow rise and fall of his lungs, the swift, hard beating of his heart. She glanced at his lap. Oh, he wanted her all right.
“Amy, no,” he rasped. The truck coasted to a stop.
Placing a finger over his lips, she straddled him. He squeezed his eyes closed, not as though in preparation for a kiss, but like he was rallying the strength to refuse her advances.
She ran her palm across his freshly shaven cheek, awareness dawning first, followed by mortification. He didn’t want her, despite his body’s assertion to the contrary. Once again, as if it were her curse in life, she’d humiliated herself in front of a cowboy. “I thought, after Sunday at church, after Saturday . . . but you aren’t interested in me like that anymore.”
He opened his eyes, his brooding expression telling her she was correct. Her heart sank and her throat grew tight. She attempted to clear his lap without rubbing against his crotch.
“That’s not true.” His hands shot up to grasp her hips, holding her atop him. “I want you so bad, it hurts. No man in his right mind could look at you and not want to haul you off to bed.” He fingered a lock of her hair. “The problem is me. Something’s come up—a responsibility I don’t have the luxury to ignore—and it wouldn’t be fair for me to lead you on any more than I already have.”
She tried to leave his lap again, but he held her firm and she abandoned her efforts. “Why didn’t you cancel tonight?”
“I should have, but I couldn’t walk away without giving you an explanation. I figured we could talk about it over dinner. More than anything, I need you to understand you haven’t done anything wrong. My reasons for backing off our relationship—”
“Hang on. I’m not in the market for a relationship, Kellan. I already told you that.” Maybe there was hope for the night after all, if a possible relationship was his only concern.
He afforded her a halfhearted smile. “Let me guess, rule number one?”
“The rule’s there for a reason.” He looked like maybe he wanted to discuss the details of that reason, so she moved on before he had a chance. “But we’re both adults and I want you as badly as you clearly want me.” She rotated her hips, stroking him to drive her point home. His lips parted, his eyes darkened.
“What if, just for tonight, I forget about my rules and you forget about your reasons and we give each other what we want? At the end of the evening, we’ll part ways, both of us satisfied and with no hard feelings. Like we did last Saturday.” He didn’t need to know she’d thought about him practically every waking moment since they met. That was beside the point. “After tonight, we’ll be neighbors and business associates only.”
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