Cowboy Come Home

by Carly Bloom

  Claire’s cheeks caught fire.

  “Judging from that blush, I’m definitely right,” Maggie said. “Travis, too. They don’t teach that in school anymore, you know. We should count ourselves lucky.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was Sunday morning, and Ford was out for a ride. He was satisfied with the ranch’s progress. Things were getting back to normal. He and Claire had had their weekly meeting with Gerome, and it had gone really well. Gerome seemed pleased that things were running so smoothly, and he’d seemed especially pleased that Claire had so much to do with it.

  There had been no more talk of selling the ranch, and Gerome had even mentioned how much he was looking forward to branding day, where neighboring ranchers and people in the community came out to help brand cattle and enjoy a nice barbecue.

  Ford was looking forward to it, too, although he was also dreading it a little since every event or happening brought him closer to leaving for West Texas. There was not a lot of time to get everything in order so that Gerome could relax and rest up before his surgery.

  Ford wasn’t typically expected to work on Sundays, but he usually did because he didn’t know what else to do. This morning he’d scheduled vaccinations, checked on hay fields and arranged for baling. Now he was at a loss as to what he should do with himself until three thirty, when he and Sheriff Long were supposed to head into the adjoining state park to round up some stray cattle who’d escaped during the flood.

  Ford could have taken Beau and Bryce, but they usually had weekend plans, and Sheriff Long had all but begged Ford to take him and JD. They were about to find out that team roping in an arena was an entirely different experience than chasing heifers and their calves through a state park.

  Should be fun.

  A big pickup rumbled up next to him, forcing him and Coco to the side of the road. The back window rolled down and Claire leaned out. “Hey, Ford. What’s up?”

  At the sight of her beautiful face and songlike voice, lots of things went up (like his mood, his heart rate, and his teeter-totter of a cock).

  “Nothing much,” he said, tilting the brim of his hat up. “Just out checking on things. What are y’all up to?”

  There was a front-end loader on the trailer behind the truck, so he figured they were going to finally attack that ditch in front of Miss Daisy.

  Maggie poked her head out next to Claire’s, and then the front window rolled down to reveal Bubba and JD. “We’re going to fill in that big hole in front of Claire’s gate. Want to help?”

  Since Ford had been thinking about Claire nonstop since, well, forever, but especially since Tony’s, he was happy to help.

  She’d kissed him. In front of everybody.

  “Okay. Sure.”

  Claire grinned at him. “See you in a few minutes.”

  He watched as the truck and trailer made its way slowly over the crossing before heading across himself. By the time he got to Claire’s gate, Bubba was backing the big machine off the trailer while JD, Maggie, and Claire stared at the trench.

  Ford dismounted Coco and went to join them.

  “Well,” Maggie was saying, “clearly it has to be filled in. But unless we divert the flow, I’m afraid it’s just going to happen again.”

  A big pile of rocks had been dumped earlier, along with a huge corrugated culvert. Maggie started telling everybody what needed to go where, and Ford helped JD get the culvert in place. In under two hours, the whole thing was done, and JD was sitting in the truck while Bubba drove the front-end loader back onto the trailer.

  “The lane was washed out pretty good,” JD told him as they gazed at their handiwork. “We’ll have to come out and grade it, but it looks like she can get a truck down it.”

  “Oh! That reminds me,” Claire said. “The dealer called. My truck came in. Do you want to take me to get it tomorrow, Ford?”

  “Sure thing,” he said. Although he kind of liked driving her ass around.

  “I shouldn’t have any trouble getting my Jeep down your lane,” Maggie said to Claire. “Don’t forget I’m picking you up for book club later.”

  Claire gave Maggie a thumbs-up. “I won’t forget. I haven’t finished the dang book, though.”

  “Do you ever?”

  Claire shrugged. “Not often, but this one was really good. And my copy is in the trailer.”

  Maggie and Bubba piled into the truck with JD. “We’ll let you two get on with it,” Maggie said. Then she winked at Claire, and the truck drove away.

  What was that about? Get on with what?

  “Want to get a grand tour of Miss Daisy?” she asked.

  “Sure. I guess…”

  The woman mounted his horse without asking.

  “Hey, wait a minute…”

  And then, with a grin, she trotted right past him.

  He’d just been horse-jacked.

  Coco swished his tail and then left it up, giving Ford a spectacular view of his asshole and leaving him with the distinct impression he’d been given the finger. Just in case he was wondering whose side his horse was on.

  “Wait up!” he called, taking off after them on foot.

  Claire looked over her shoulder and laughed, but then she slowed Coco to a stop and waited. When Ford caught up, she was leaning over and snuggling with his horse.

  Or maybe they were conspiring. It was hard to tell.

  “Want on?” Claire asked.

  She pulled her foot out of the stirrup so he could get a leg up, but he didn’t need it. He was going to impress her with a slick move he’d learned as a kid when he’d regularly hung out with bull riders and rodeo clowns.

  Ford tapped Coco on his rump, took a few steps back, and called out, “Mounty up!”

  “Oh my God. What are you doing?” Claire asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

  Ford put a finger to his lips. He only knew one trick, and it was a good one. He took a deep breath and then took a running leap, mounting his pony from behind, Hollywood-style.

  Coco didn’t falter, but Claire emitted a high-pitched squeal as he landed behind her. Actually, maybe that was him, because he’d just racked himself on the saddle.

  He leaned into Claire, trying his best to curl up into a ball. “Damn,” he wheezed. “I usually do that bareback.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “And why would you even attempt such a thing?”

  “It impresses the ladies,” he squeaked.

  “Well,” Claire said with a slight snort. “I’m mighty impressed. I just hope you weren’t planning on having children.”

  * * *

  Claire led Ford up the three porch steps to Miss Daisy’s front door. She couldn’t shake the happy for now seed Maggie and Alice had planted in her brain. Could she do that? Could she just live in the moment with this wayward cowboy who couldn’t put down roots?

  He was a fine man. A good man. And she was going to be heartbroken either way. Because she’d fallen for him again. She knew that as sure as she knew her left boot from her right.

  What if there was no happily-ever-after in her future? What if there was just now? This summer, this week, this day, this moment.

  She wanted whatever she could get of him. Which was all of him. Even if she couldn’t keep him.

  “You sure are quiet,” he said. He looked gigantic on her tiny front porch.

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah. Thinking about your dad?”

  Although her father was never far from her mind, no, she hadn’t been thinking about him. She was now, though.

  “He seemed happy at the meeting. And thank you, by the way, for telling him everything I’ve been doing. I’m perfectly capable of tooting my own horn, but it felt nice to hear you do it.”

  “Everything I said was true.”

  “Do you think he’s still considering selling it?”

  “I think that depends on the numbers, and I haven’t seen them.”

  Dang it. What good was all her hard work if her dad was just going
to sell anyway?

  “The water didn’t make its way up here,” Ford said. “Your little trailer seems just fine.”

  Miss Daisy sat on a bluff, surrounded by bluebonnets and buttercups. It had a small porch, built by Bubba and JD, just big enough for two chairs, a wind chime, and a hummingbird feeder. Claire had hung up twinkle lights. Nothing made her happier than sitting on this little porch with a friend and a cold beer, listening to the frogs in the creek below.

  “Thank goodness.”

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  She remembered the way his arms had felt around her on the dance floor at Tony’s, and the kiss that had followed, in front of everyone. And here he was. Asking if she was going to invite him in.

  Happy for now. Happy for now. Happy for now.

  She opened the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  A musty odor hung in the air—Miss Daisy had been closed up for a while—and Claire wrinkled her nose while Ford opened the windows. “I’ve stayed in worse quarters,” he said.

  “I’ll have you know this little trailer has been pinned on hundreds, maybe thousands, of Pinterest boards.” Decorated in white and gray with pink accents, the place was adorable. Wood throughout, recessed lighting, a clever little loft bed she’d designed herself so she’d have room for a couch and a table. She wasn’t much of a cook, so the tiny kitchen wasn’t a problem.

  “I don’t know how to pin anything to a social media board, but this place looks like you, and I like it.”

  Aw, that was sweet. Especially since there was a miniature crystal chandelier resting on top of his cowboy hat.

  He nodded at the little ladder leading to the loft bed. “You sleep up there?”

  “Yep.”

  “It doesn’t look like there’s much room.”

  It was small. But it was perfectly comfortable for one person, and it would absolutely work for two people if they weren’t very interested in high-quality sleep.

  She’d thought about it plenty. The various ways two people would fit. The positions…

  There were ways.

  “It’s big enough,” she said. “And you are more than welcome to check it out if you don’t believe me.”

  Ford kicked off his boots, set his hat on the little counter, and put a foot on the ladder. “Here I go.”

  Claire crossed her arms, shrugged, and tried to pretend she didn’t care that Ford Jarvis was climbing into her bed.

  He just went a couple of steps up the rungs until he was as high as he could go. “It’s a nice little space,” he said. “Cozy in that way that MRI machines are cozy.”

  Claire smacked his leg.

  “I guess you have to kind of crawl in?” he asked.

  “Not really—”

  Ford’s ass was in the air, and then…Oof! His feet hung over the side for a few seconds, and then he pulled them in, too. “There’s absolutely no way two people could fit in this bed.”

  It was a challenge, and she knew it. The question was, would she accept?

  She bit her lip. Chewed her thumb. Stared at the ladder.

  A snort. Then a snore.

  Oh, hell no. Ford Jarvis was not falling asleep in her bed before she’d even decided what to do with him.

  She climbed up the ladder and poked her head over the mattress.

  He was grinning. “Come on, now. I want to see you worm your way up here. Of course, I don’t know where you’re going to go if you do—”

  She scampered right up, no problem, and found herself nose to nose with Ford.

  “See? I fit.”

  Ford raised up on an elbow and glanced at where one of her legs hung over the edge.

  “Partially.”

  “You could scoot over, you know.”

  “This bed doesn’t seem to be made for people lying side by side.”

  His hazel eyes had been sparkling with mirth, but now they darkened slightly and drifted to her lips.

  And he was right. She hadn’t really been thinking of side-by-side sleeping arrangements when she’d designed this little love shack. “Spooning works.”

  “Yeah?”

  She could feel his breath. The small space seemed to shrink even more, warming from the heat radiating off their skin.

  “I’d think stacking works, too.”

  “Stacking?”

  “You know. One on top of the other.”

  She swallowed.

  “Want to try it?” he whispered.

  Happy for now. Happy for now. Happy for now.

  He pulled her on top of him, and the contact made her body hum like electric lines in a rainstorm. He was long, lean, and hard in more ways than one.

  “You going to kick those boots off?” he asked.

  Claire went to answer and realized she’d been holding her breath. She kicked off one boot, followed by the other. Both hit the ground with a thud.

  His hands ran up her back and her erogenous zones sizzled and lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Touch me here!

  Ford knew where all her sensitive places were, and he followed those lights like a roadmap. Lips grazed below her ear. Fingers brushed against her ribs. A palm pressed the small of her back…

  She couldn’t help but move against him, and he responded to every motion with one of his own.

  “Oh, Ford…”

  His lips found hers and he moaned beneath her as he cupped her ass with his hands.

  Thoughts and ponderings left as soon as they formed, dissipating into pure bliss. Her body had no misgivings over time or happiness or being present. It knew exactly what it was doing, and Ford’s body was its personal Zen.

  Ford softly bit her bottom lip. “Whose turn is it?” he asked.

  “Yours,” she mumbled, pressing her pelvis against his. “It’s your turn to call things off.”

  He moved her hair out of the way to kiss her neck. “Really? I thought it was yours.”

  It was hard to think with his warm breath against her skin, but she was pretty dang sure it wasn’t her turn. “No. I went last. At the oak tree.”

  She closed her lids and felt her eyes roll in the back of her head as Ford kissed her collarbone.

  “No,” he said. “That was the drone. You didn’t say a word about stopping anything. And there’s no skipping turns.”

  He slipped his hands beneath her shirt.

  “I didn’t skip. We were interrupted. And anyway, the end result was the same.”

  He pulled her shirt over her head and ran his warm hands across her back. Then he unclasped her bra with ease.

  “You’re forfeiting your turn?” he asked, licking his lips as she raised up just enough to give him a peek at her cleavage as the bra slipped down.

  “For the last time, it’s not my turn.”

  Her bra slid all the way down her arms, releasing her breasts from the cups. She wanted to reach up and cover them, to stop them from swaying or God forbid, hanging, because she was what her mother referred to as a “full-figured girl.” But she couldn’t sit up straight in this silly little loft, and she needed her hands to support herself as she leaned over Ford.

  Ford’s eyes went straight to her breasts and stayed there, going from left to right like he was watching a tennis match, because her breasts were indeed, slightly swaying. Was it possible for boobs to hypnotize a cowboy?

  “Darlin’, I don’t care whose turn it is. I couldn’t stop now if I wanted to.” He covered each breast with a big, warm hand. “And I don’t want to.”

  She gasped as he raised his head and flicked a nipple with his tongue before capturing it with his mouth. He sucked deeply while squeezing her other nipple with his fingers.

  Claire panted like a puppy and rubbed herself all over him.

  Ford released her nipple. “Unless, of course, you want me to stop.”

  She couldn’t even handle that he’d stopped to get her opinion on the matter. “Are you going to lose that shirt, cowboy?”

  He peeled his T-shirt off
, revealing his own glorious chest.

  Dang, but she loved a good chest. And Ford’s was perfect. It wasn’t overly muscular—she wasn’t into boobs, herself—but it was sculpted. Tight. Hard. The result of real work.

  A smattering of hair on his pecs narrowed into a trim little trail at his belly that dipped into his jeans. She knew where the trail went, and she was looking forward to hiking it with her fingers. And lips. And tongue.

  She leaned over and kissed him softly, letting her nipples rub gently against his chest. The sensation of his rough hair against her sensitive skin lit a fuse that went straight between her legs.

  He grabbed her hips. “Let’s get these jeans off.” He sounded breathless. “I want to touch every inch of you.”

  It was all she could do not to scream, Okay, let’s do that! right in his face. Instead, she rolled off of him and unzipped her jeans. Then she started to peel them down.

  She got them just past her hips and went to sit up, but dang it, she couldn’t. Not enough headroom. She lifted her butt and shimmied the jeans down to mid-thigh, grunting sexily the entire time.

  “Need help?” Ford asked.

  “Nope.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. But can you scoot over? I’m smashed against the wall.”

  “If I scoot over, I’ll fall out.”

  Claire sighed. “I think we’re going to have to crawl down the ladder if we want to get naked.”

  Ford rolled over and went down first. Claire tried to follow, but she couldn’t get down the rungs with her jeans at her thighs. She ended up hanging over the side of the loft, butt-side up.

  “It seems you’ve gotten yourself in a pickle, Miss Kowalski,” Ford said.

  Claire chewed her lip. She was in quite the predicament. What could she say back to Ford that was sexy or witty or—

  Whoosh!

  Her pants had disappeared in one fell swoop.

  “I swear,” Ford said. “A cowboy has to do everything himself.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ford’s heart was pounding. Claire wore a tiny pink thong, and it was inches from his face. His hands trembled and his pulse raced. Hell, that had started as soon as she’d asked him if he wanted to see her trailer.