A Son for the Texas Cowboy

by Sinclair Jayne

  Why had she said that? He was the last person she wanted to see. Absolutely last. Grabbing Diego’s hand, she hurried back to their rooms as if there really were ghosts on their trail.

  Cruz settled Diego back down and watched him sprawl out like a starfish. He’d always done that, even as a baby—well, almost a toddler by the time she’d brought him into her home for the first time. She’d been too stunned and bewildered to grieve or absorb the change in her life.

  She went back to her room, her fingers untying the knot on her sweats.

  “Why doesn’t your child know you were once a top barrel racer?”

  Cruz jumped, clutching at the waistband of her pants. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “You’re the finest horsewoman I’ve ever seen. You loved riding. It was part of who you were—maybe the biggest part that I saw. What happened, Cruz? Where did you go?”

  *

  What happened to the girl I loved?

  He was playing with fire. He was alone in her room. The thin cotton tank hugged her athletic frame, and his fingers flexed, as if hoping to touch her soft skin. He kept himself rigidly in control. She was in his house, and vulnerable, even though he knew she would disagree with that assessment.

  “Life,” she said. “I grew up.”

  Her voice sounded brittle, and he had the feeling she was holding herself as tensely as he was holding himself.

  “Tell me about Diego’s father.”

  “What?” She seemed truly startled by his question. “Why?”

  He didn’t answer right away. The silence was alive.

  “I think I have a right to know, since you broke up with me and had a baby pretty damn quick.” He deliberately kept his voice even. “And you told me that you wanted to focus on becoming a doctor. You said a boyfriend—” he couldn’t help the slight sneer on that word because he hadn’t been a boy in a hella lot of years “—would get in the way.”

  “Oh. That.”

  “Yeah. That.”

  “You didn’t want a relationship any more than I did,” she said. “You were off on the top bull-riding tour. The last thing you needed was some college med student buried in course work and clinicals, who couldn’t get to any of your rides. Where’s the fun in that?”

  She huffed out a breath and tied the string on her pants. Tightly. “I did you a favor,” she added.

  “Are you saying he’s mine?” Axel staggered in shock. August had been the one to put the idea in his head, but he’d mostly rejected it. Cruz would have told him. She’d always been a straight shooter.

  “No, Axel. Oh. Axel, no.” She stepped forward, her grip hard on his arms. “No. I—” She gulped in a breath and her beautiful midnight eyes, which so reminded him of the Texas sky he’d been showing Diego, searched his. “No. I would have told you that, even though you were quite clear about your feelings on the subject.”

  He still felt a little winded, as if he’d just been tossed and kicked. His chest hurt. Actually hurt. “I was?”

  She let go of his arms and took a step back.

  “Diego isn’t my biological son. He’s my brother’s son.”

  “You don’t have a brother.”

  She laughed a little, but broke off on a sob. “I don’t anymore. But I did. After we broke up, I started med school. After the first month, I got a call from a man—a boy really, named Armando. He said he was my brother, that my mother had been pregnant when she left my father. She didn’t take me with her, but she’d kept him. He’d just learned that he had a sister, and he had proof—some pictures of my mom with me when I was little. He wanted to meet me before he shipped out on his second deployment to Syria. He had a son. His high school girlfriend hadn’t wanted to keep the baby, but he did.

  “So we met for coffee. He brought Diego. His ex-girlfriend’s parents watched the baby while he was on deployment, but they were planning to move to somewhere in Africa. I don’t remember what he told me. They were missionaries who had been called to service I think. A month later, two men in uniform were at my door saying my brother had been killed in action and that I had custody of his child. My mom didn’t want him. Said she’d done her time like raising kids was a prison sentence.” She could hear the bitterness in her voice but couldn’t hide it.

  “Cruz.” He smoothed his hands down her arms, making her shudder. “That’s why I’m not a doctor,” she continued in a wooden voice, hands clenched into tight fists. “I had to start working quickly. With all my college credits and degree, nursing made more sense, but once we were a bit more settled, I entered a PA program where I could still work part-time as a nurse so my debt wouldn’t be so high.”

  She glared at him. “I didn’t give up on my dream. It just changed. It had to. I love Diego so I’m not even sorry. He’s my only family.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He wrapped her up in his arms. For a moment, a long moment, she held herself stiffly—titanium in his arms. Then she sighed and melted against him, and something deep inside of him that he hadn’t even realized was broken, felt healed. He closed his eyes. Absorbed the moment. So lightly, almost afraid to do it, he kissed the top of her head, once, twice, savoring the feeling of her silky hair against his lips.

  “You could have come to me, Cruz.”

  “Why?” She leaned away from him, her eyes searching his. “Armando was my family. Diego was my responsibility. You had a short window of time to chase your dream. Why would I ever take that away from you? I had to make some adjustments in my life plan, but that didn’t mean you had to.”

  Her words struck a deep chord in him. No one had ever thought of his needs but her.

  He wanted to ask about Misty River and why she hadn’t shared her love of rodeo and horses with Diego, but he’d already dug at one scab tonight. Did he want to peel off another?

  No.

  He had time.

  But did he?

  God, he needed time with her.

  Stuffing down the wave of guilt of how he’d called in a couple of favors to give her and Diego a safe place to stay on the ranch so that he could figure out his next move and if he wanted to make it, he cupped her cheeks with his palms. The curve and smooth skin felt so familiar.

  “You are such a strong and beautiful person.”

  She laughed. “I don’t feel like that a lot of days.”

  “You are.” He loved looking at her. He always had. “I want to kiss you,” he said.

  Her hands covered his. “Axel, this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she muttered after a moment.

  “Yes or no?”

  “You didn’t ask this afternoon when you packed me up in your truck,” Cruz objected. “You just kissed away.”

  “That was not a kiss.” He leaned closer to her.

  “Felt like it.”

  “Did it? I’m out of practice then.”

  She laughed. “I seriously doubt it.”

  “I could be. Let’s test that theory. A practice kiss.”

  “That sounds like a line, and I’ve heard a lot of those, Cowboy,” she said, but didn’t pull away. “The kiss this afternoon was pretty potent.”

  “You are out of practice then. Because it was nothing like the kiss I want to give you now.”

  “Axel…” If she was trying to protest, she was failing on an epic scale. Instead she sounded curious. And excited. “Kissing was never our problem.”

  He feathered his lips along her cheekbone. “What was our problem?”

  “Um…ummmm.” The way she drawled out the consonant went straight to his cock.

  “You drive me crazy. You always did.”

  She bit her bottom lip and smiled. “This is a really bad idea,” she said. “This is why I didn’t want to follow you to the ranch…” But she turned her head, and kissed his thumb, letting her tongue swirl circles on it before sucking more of his thumb in her mouth and playing with it, much like she used to do with another, more sensitive, part of his anatomy.
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  Her eyes drifted shut for a moment, and her expression went dreamy.

  “What if Diego wakes up?” she asked.

  Still holding her, he reached behind him and locked the door.

  “We’re not doing that,” she said quickly.

  “I know.”

  “We shouldn’t.” Only it sounded a lot like ‘we should,’ especially given the way her gaze dropped below his belt and lingered.

  She’d always been able to arouse him with a look. And her touch… God he’d missed her.

  “Cruz,” he said urgently. “Anytime you want to stop, we will.”

  “You sound like a dating manual.” She laughed a little. “Twenty-first century #MeToo I need the woman’s consent cowboy.”

  “Don’t make fun of consent.” He felt offended to his soul. “I want you to feel safe. In control.”

  “I’d feel more in control if I had a settled job and a place to live.”

  “You and Diego can stay here as long as you need.”

  “Why?”

  “Do I need a reason?”

  “Everyone has a reason.”

  “I’m pretty sure mine is obvious,” he said, feeling like he was so transparently not over her, she should be gloating right about now. Except Cruz had never been cruel.

  “No,” she said, and her voice rang with honesty. “Did you feel guilty? Did you suspect Diego was your son, so you invited us here because you felt you needed to take care of us?”

  She really didn’t know, did she? He would always take care of her. Always. Even if she’d married and had several children with another man she loved. If she needed him, he would be there.

  “No. This is why.”

  And then he kissed her. Her lips parted and he stroked them with his tongue. She gasped against his mouth and stepped further in to his body. He kept his hands softly cupping her jaw, trying to avoid making the kiss too sexual, too quickly, but Cruz was having none of that. She was a flame in his arms, burning him up and kissing him back with a passion that shredded his self-control.

  She pressed her breasts against his chest, and he could feel the hard bud of her nipples through her thin tank and his T-shirt.

  Her hands were in his hair, and her pelvis, lined up almost directly with his, undulated a little, causing the most exquisite press of friction that sent desire spearing through his body.

  “Axel,” she panted against him. Impatiently, she dragged his T-shirt out of his jeans. “God, you are so hard. Like a sculpture. You’re not real.”

  “Definitely real.” He deepened the kiss and the room, their history, the hurt…it all faded to nothing. There was only Cruz and how good he wanted to make her feel and how much she made him burn.

  “And definitely more perfect.”

  “I was never close to perfect.”

  “We disagree on that,” she breathed. Her palms slipped up his abdomen, exploring. “This is crazy,” she whispered. “You’re making me crazy.”

  He felt a little crazy himself, spiraling out of control. He wanted…he wanted so much. He wanted to press her down on the bed and strip the clothes from her body. He wanted to relearn every centimeter of her skin, remember all the places that would make her shiver and moan and beg. Cruz had always been sexually adventurous with him. And her appetite had matched his.

  Once they’d become lovers, she’d initiated as much as he had, and he’d felt like the luckiest man in the world.

  He’d craved her touch, and had thought about devouring her an embarrassingly large amount of times when he should have been focusing on other things. It had taken him nearly a year before he could even think about touching another woman like that, letting himself be touched. It had felt wrong. And he’d never recaptured a boot full of the passion that had burned so hot with Cruz.

  He knew he needed to slow things down, but she pulled off his shirt and tossed it behind him. She kissed and nipped a path back to his mouth, and he couldn’t help himself—he turned them around so he wouldn’t be tempted by the bed and lifted her up and pressed her against the wall instead.

  She smiled and wrapped her legs around his hips, squeezing tight.

  “I love the way you feel,” she said, rocking against him. “Full of strength and power.”

  Axel’s lust grew until it was hard to reason. He wanted her. He needed to have her, under him, over him, her mouth on him. He had to have it all.

  Her heat. Her moisture. The pressure. The way she was kissing him, like the world was about to end, had him hanging by a thread.

  “Take off your jeans,” she breathed against his mouth, her hands already reaching for the button.

  “I want to. I do,” he told her. He pulled off her tank and bent down to suck one small mound and beautiful brown nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue play. “I want you so much,” he told her before he took her other breast into his mouth and laved it with his tongue. “You are so beautiful. I want to watch you orgasm. You are so beautifully responsive.”

  He wanted her more than he needed to breathe.

  “Axel,” she growled. “Harder.” She gripped his hair and pulled his face back to her breasts. “Get your jeans off.”

  He let his five-o’clock shadow brush her sensitized breasts, and she arched against the wall. With his hands and his mouth and his teeth and his stubble, he played with her breasts until she was thrashing and practically sobbing in his arms.

  He leaned forward, tugged her sweats partially down with his teeth and then stroked along her wet seam. The sound she made was pure music. But a pinpoint of reason struggled to break through. He wanted to taste her but one part of him wanted a promise, some sort of commitment from her before he let himself be that intimate with her again.

  Cruz hadn’t agreed to anything beyond a quick hookup. And he was done with those. He needed to win her trust. Win her heart again.

  But he’d brought her here under a lie.

  He shoved the guilt down momentarily. He’d tell her. He just needed this now.

  He bit down on her nipple hard, and stroked her clit with his fingernail. She practically came out of his arms, and he could feel the orgasm start as he eased two fingers into her slick, pulsating channel. He stroked her through her orgasm, his thumb still busy with her clit. But his gaze never left hers.

  Axel had never felt more turned-on or satisfied in his entire life, even though his erection was a painful press against his jeans.

  “I don’t even know how you did that,” she whispered. She was totally sweaty, and she leaned in to his body, wrapping her arms around him as she dropped her legs down to the ground. “I don’t even know what you did. I don’t think I can walk.”

  He kissed the corner of her mouth and then traced her plump lower lip.

  Then he leaned his forehead against hers as they each caught their breath.

  “I know it’s unexpected, Cruz. But give us a chance.”

  She stiffened in his arms.

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Axel,” she sighed and kissed his jaw. “It’s not that I’m not tempted. Clearly I am. But we’re different people now.”

  “Not so different,” he objected.

  She pulled away but didn’t go for her tank. She held both his hands in hers, bringing one to her lips and kissing his knuckles. “We barely know each other anymore.”

  That didn’t ring true for him at all.

  “Then give us a chance to get to know each other.”

  “I can’t promise that. Even though we…you…”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” he said. “Letting me touch you and kiss you doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

  She frowned. “I have a son now, Axel. I adopted him. I’m not just his aunt or his guardian.”

  He tilted his head, not sure of her point.

  “I have to protect him, to think about his needs too.”

  “Agreed,” he said, because that much was obvious. But he didn’t see what that had to do with trying
to rebuild their relationship.

  “I’m not saying no,” she said. “I just think we need to be cautious. Take it slow. Think about it. Communicate more.”

  “We just did.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his strong chin. Then she nipped it hard.

  “Communicate our thoughts and feelings and goals and concerns, not just desires.”

  “Now who’s talking like a manual?”

  Her serious expression lightened a little.

  He’d spent most of his life thinking things through. Being with Cruz was a no-brainer. But he knew he wouldn’t win by pushing.

  “I’m trying to be serious,” she said. “Practical. I have to be. I’m not even sure how long I’ll be in Last Stand.”

  He nodded. He understood, but he didn’t like it.

  “That sounds good,” he lied. “Slow. Get to know each other again.”

  His mind was already bolting out the barn door, thinking of ways to show Cruz all she could have with him. The doubts he’d had—becoming like his father, an alcoholic, or succumbing to depression like his mother, or becoming a victim to the dysfunction, fury, betrayal, revenge and general misfortune that seemed to stalk the Wolf family—had momentarily quieted with Cruz in his arms again.

  “So, no running out to buy a jumbo box of condoms,” he teased.

  He could feel her smile against his chest.

  “Well it never hurts to be prepared,” she said softly.

  “So, a trip to the store is in order?”

  “Axel.” Her dark eyes were somber. “I can’t promise anything at this point. I have to build a life for me and Diego, and this job is only temporary. I’ve got interviews scheduled later in Austin and San Antonio. I have to be able to support myself and my child.”

  His gut twisted and he felt a frisson of worry. He stuffed it down. He was closer than he’d been yesterday. He had a chance now. Yesterday, he’d had nothing. And Austin and San Antonio were doable commutes for either of them.

  “So, condoms and fingers crossed.”

  She slapped her hand on his chest. “Go to bed, Cowboy. Alone,” she added. “I need to get some sleep. I said I’d think about it, and I will.”

  “Sweet dreams,” he said, running his thumb that had so recently helped to bring her to heaven, along her lower lip, and then he sucked it into his mouth.