Wild Cowboy Country

by Erin Marsh

  “Do you think you’re up for a ride?”

  She groaned. “It’s too far to walk, isn’t it?”

  “In your condition, probably,” Clay said.

  “I’m normally great on a horse, but it feels like the scenery is rushing at me, ready to zip right through me.”

  “You could ride back with me,” Clay offered softly, not wanting to spook her. To his surprise, she didn’t reject his words outright, so he continued. “I can tie Luna to Midnight, and you can sit behind me. That way, you can close your eyes if you want. I’ll keep Midnight to a baby trot.”

  “The classic damsel in distress?”

  “Not quite,” Clay said. “Aren’t I the big bad dragon you’re trying to slay?”

  Lacey’s grin still seemed a little weak, but it was real. “I’m the girl who loves wolves. If I ever met a dragon, I wouldn’t want to kill it.”

  “I stand corrected,” Clay said. “I guess I’m the black knight then. I played hooky the day they handed out the shining armor.”

  * * *

  Clay may have been right about not being a classic hero, but holding him sure felt good. He possessed a solidness that helped steady Lacey’s swirling world. He was lean enough that she had no trouble holding onto his waist but broad enough that he oozed masculine strength. He even smelled good as she rested her head against his cotton shirt. The detergent he used had a clean, crisp fragrance, and even the faint odor of sweat didn’t bother her. She much preferred it to woody-smelling colognes. There was something honest about Clay Stevens’s scent.

  She hadn’t intended to press herself against his muscular back. At first, she’d sat stiffly, keeping a good inch between them. But then he’d urged Midnight into a gentle baby trot, and she’d had no choice but to slump against Clay. When her arms had curled around his abdomen, his body had felt too incredible to let go.

  The pseudo embrace sent an undeniable thrill sizzling through her. She felt as alive as the desert after a surprise rain. Eddies of excitement whirled through her, filling her with potential energy despite her earlier symptoms. She knew she’d crash on her couch as soon as she returned to her bungalow. But now…now she felt charged.

  Deep down, she recognized that she should fight against the dangerous emotions brewing inside her, but she’d spent her strength battling the mental fog. All her fight had drained away. So she clung to Clay, keeping her eyes closed against the scenery rushing by and simply basking in the electric glow his nearness triggered.

  When Midnight slowed to a stop, part of her felt relieved they’d reached the ranch complex. The arduous ride was over. But another part of her didn’t want to release Clay.

  “I remember some of my brother’s concussions made him sensitive to light,” Clay said. “Would it be better if we dismounted in the barn?”

  “Probably,” Lacey admitted.

  When Lacey opened her eyes, the shadows protected her. Although the pungent odor of horses, cattle, and straw seemed stronger than usual, she found comfort in it. She’d loved spending time on her family’s ranch. The livestock had fascinated her as a small child. Her grandfather and her uncle had hoped she’d join the family operation, but her heart had always belonged to wild animals.

  Clay dismounted first and then turned to regard her. “I know you’re a skilled rider, but you still look a little pale. Do you want help down?”

  Although she felt much better than she had out in the pasture, she didn’t want to push herself again. “It might be a good idea.”

  As she slid off the horse, Clay’s strong hands wrapped around her sides as he guided and steadied her. The warmth of his fingers seemed to seep inside her and pool in her stomach. Excitement flickered. Her feet hit the wooden floorboards with a muffled thump. She instinctually turned in the circle of his arms. The spark flared into an inferno as she stared into his blue-green eyes. Their brilliant color seemed to glow in the relative darkness of the barn. She must have knocked off his cowboy hat during her descent from Midnight, and his blond hair stood in clumps. This time, she didn’t resist. She reached up and smoothed down one of the unruly strands. Clay sucked in his breath. The sound galvanized Lacey. She brushed through the lock hanging over his forehead, her fingertips grazing his temple. Clay’s hand flexed on her middle.

  Lacey’s world tilted wildly and not from her concussion. Instinctually, she cupped Clay’s cheek, his golden stubble pricking her skin. His eyes darkened. They no longer looked like the sea but a dark jungle pool…full of beckoning mystery.

  “Lacey?” Her name sounded decadent on his lips, and she could hear the question, the invitation. She didn’t answer with words. She placed her other hand on his face and drew him down toward her. He didn’t hesitate. His lips captured hers, soft, certain, devastating. Sweet liquid fire shot straight to her toes. Then sensation erupted throughout her body. This was the kind of kiss a woman dreamed about when she climbed into her bed alone on a winter’s night. It was the kind of kiss Lacey didn’t believe existed until now…the kind of kiss that changed a person.

  Her hands tangled in the softness of Clay’s hair. His hands pressed against the small of her back, drawing her against the hardness of his chest. They weren’t a perfect fit. He needed to bend into the embrace, but that didn’t take away from its rightness. Normally, first kisses were awkward—two people learning each other’s preferences. This wasn’t. Lacey sank into it and allowed the riot of emotions to parade through her. Clay groaned, the sound reverberating along Lacey’s nerve endings, making her shiver. His hands moved then, heading downward. They’d just skimmed the belt of her jeans when she heard the loud tread of boots behind them.

  “LACEY DIANE MONTGOMERY.”

  The use of her full name cracked the bliss surrounding Lacey. Reality jolted through her with such force that her head began to pound again. She and Clay sprang apart, moving faster than two startled jackrabbits. They turned in unison to find Pete Thompson silhouetted in the open barn door.

  Growing up as the town darling meant everyone thought they had a say in her personal life. Lacey had more “grandmothers” trying to set her up with nice young men. When she inevitably broke down and agreed to go on the date, practically every male resident over forty gave the hapless guy a speech about polishing his shotgun. Pete was no exception. He might not have a rifle on him, but his expression indicated that if he did, he’d be pointing it straight at his boss. He’d watched Lacey toddle around the Montgomery ranch and then zoom through childhood at the Prairie Dog Café. Like the rest of Sagebrush Flats, he felt a kinship toward her.

  “I heard hoofbeats,” Pete said, his voice sharper than a new razor blade. “I thought you might have returned. Did you see any wolves?”

  “No,” Clay said just as stiffly, “just some tracks. Hawkins and Stewart are checking the rest of the property.”

  “Why is Luna tied up behind Midnight?” Pete asked, his voice like a razor. “Did she turn up lame?”

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Lacey said gently, trying to defuse the situation before one of the men exploded. “I hit my head a few days ago, and I wasn’t feeling too well. Clay and I rode back together.”

  Her explanation didn’t mollify Pete. Instead, it incited him further. His gray eyes turned the color of wet slate as he clenched his fists. He even took a subtle step in Clay’s direction before he stopped himself. The dismissive loathing in Pete’s face would get most foremen fired, but his family had worked at Valhalla for almost a century. If Clay let him go, he’d face the wrath of the town…and his own ranch hands.

  “Typical Stevens.” Pete’s words were so low that Lacey was fairly certain she and Clay weren’t supposed to hear them. Unfortunately, Pete’s anger had caused him to misjudge the volume. Clay’s shoulders snapped to attention, and the tension in the barn crackled worse than an electric fence at full voltage.

  “What was that, Pete?” Clay a
sked, his voice a challenge.

  Pete’s jaw worked as if he were literally chewing his words. He wanted to speak so badly that his neck muscles coiled. A warning sensation whispered through Lacey like a dry wind. She hated drama, and now she found herself at its epicenter.

  “If you have something to say,” Clay said coolly, “say it.”

  “You’re a bastard.” The words exploded from Pete, but not in a fiery fashion. It was more like built-up steam—slow and scalding. “Seducing a woman after she got knocked on the head.”

  Anger shot through Lacey as swiftly as a striking Mojave rattler. Typically, Lacey was a calm person. After Jesse’s death, she didn’t trust strong emotions. She preferred to keep her passions for protecting wildlife. In the past, Clay was one of the few people who managed to break her self-imposed calm. But Pete’s comment blazed through her control.

  “I might have bumped my head, but I am perfectly capable of knowing what I want. Clay did not take advantage of me. I’m the one who initiated the kiss, and I knew what I was doing.”

  Pete swung his body toward her. “Did you?”

  “Thompson…” Clay’s voice held a warning to it.

  “What do you think it’s going to do to your mama when she finds out you’re with him? His daddy destroyed this town. Almost all of us had money tied up in that damn company. We all got hurt, but none as badly as your family.”

  The fight in Lacey dried up faster than a shallow arroyo during a bad drought. Horror rushed in to fill the void. She stepped back from the force of it. She felt Clay’s hand on her shoulder. Gentle. Reassuring. Comforting.

  She shook him off. Too many feelings clashed inside her, forming an ugly, vicious ball. She’d felt like this only a couple of times before. After her father’s death…after Jesse’s.

  For years, no one in Sagebrush Flats had even alluded to her family’s tragedy in front of her. She hadn’t expected Uncle Pete’s accusation. Even if she had anticipated his words, she couldn’t have prepared herself for the maelstrom of emotions. They bombarded her. Her head ached again, and the mental murkiness deepened. With her concussion, she was ill-equipped to deal with the added pain and guilt. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  She would not cry. She would not. But if she stayed here, she would.

  She stalked from the barn. Her shoulder brushed against Pete Thompson’s arm. It was accidental, but part of her felt good when he stepped back. Let him move for her. He had no business kicking up the past like a wolf trying to cover its scat.

  She stepped into the light. It hurt, but staying in the barn would cause more than just physical agony. She walked straight toward an ash tree. Resting her hand against its trunk, she stared down at the ground.

  Pete wasn’t wrong. Her mother wouldn’t approve of her daughter getting tangled with a Stevens…nor would her grandfather. Lacey didn’t want to stir up turmoil in her family. They’d endured enough. She was the bright spot. The one who gave them hope. How could she destroy that?

  “Lacey?” Clay’s voice was soft and concerned. He had a nice deep one—the kind that could wrap around a woman’s heart if she wasn’t careful. She wondered inanely for a moment why she hadn’t noticed before. It was a silly observation given the raw anguish coursing through her, but her brain had had trouble focusing lately.

  “I’m sorry about what Pete said,” Clay told her. “He was mad at me. You shouldn’t have gotten caught in the crosshairs.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Okay.”

  Clay walked Lacey back to his truck, and they rode to her bungalow in silence. They said their goodbyes quickly. Lacey sensed Clay wanted to talk more, but he didn’t. He waited in his truck as she trudged up her walk and opened her door. She shuffled inside and collapsed on her couch. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long until the oblivion of sleep claimed her.

  Chapter 5

  “I hear you’re fooling around with my granddaughter.”

  With a fifty-pound bag of powdered milk replacer over his shoulder, Clay turned at the sound of Buck Montgomery’s voice. Hell, couldn’t a man even shop at the local feedstore without getting accosted about his love life?

  Clay was tempted…sorely tempted to tell the older man to go to hell. He didn’t for several reasons. One, the ex-rancher had always reminded him a bit of his own grandfather. For another, the man had more of a right to complain than Pete Thompson. Third, he didn’t think Lacey would appreciate his response. She also didn’t deserve rumors flying around town either.

  “I invited Lacey to my ranch to get her opinion on improving the water levels on the property,” Clay said evenly.

  “I may be old, but I’m no fool.” Buck Montgomery was still a tall man. Despite his age, he retained an aura of strength. With his creased, leathery face permanently bronzed by the sun, he had the look of a man who made his living working outdoors. No one would ever mistake him for a businessman, even if he wore a suit instead of his standard jeans and Western shirt. He was someone Clay respected, even if the feeling was far from mutual.

  “I never thought you were one,” Clay said.

  “My granddaughter’s a smart girl.”

  “Agreed. That’s why I sought her opinion.”

  Buck glared at him. He held a bundle of rope in his hand, and Clay knew the man was itching to hog-tie him with it. “Your daddy was good at flattery too.”

  “He was a con man,” Clay said simply. Buck’s golden-brown eyes—the same color as Lacey’s—widened in surprise. Clay waited a beat before adding, “I’m not.”

  Buck frowned. “I heard you dropped my granddaughter off at the zoo today and the day before.”

  “That would be right.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a man who’s just after advice on ecology.”

  “Lacey wants to take care of the wolf pups, and I go right past her house every day when I drive my nephew to the zoo for his community service. She asked me to give her a lift. I agreed. That’s all.”

  Except it wasn’t. Not for him. Not anymore. Not after that kiss.

  He’d never experienced anything like it. After she’d left, explosive energy had coursed through him. He’d ended up riding the fences, but instead of taking in the scenery, he’d seen her with eyes half-lidded as she pulled him closer. Their embrace had felt incredible. He’d wanted that kiss. She hadn’t needed to guide him toward her.

  Then, when her soft lips had touched his… He’d stopped thinking entirely. Nothing could have prepared him for the buoyant rush of pleasure. It had swept away any rational thought, leaving him with nothing but sensation. He’d never tasted a high like it, not even during his wild drunken party days. And it hadn’t been an artificial happiness either. She’d made him feel good down to the molecular level. Unlike all the desires he used to chase, she wasn’t bad for him. Quite the opposite. A woman like Lacey Montgomery wouldn’t go easy on her man. She’d push and she’d prod until he was the best version of himself. That might scare some, but not Clay. He wasn’t afraid of making himself better. Not anymore.

  But even if Lacey may be right for him, he was all wrong for her. Pete Thompson was at least correct on that point. His foreman had chosen a piss-poor way to interrupt their kiss. He could’ve banged the door or done a million other things that would’ve alerted them to his presence without embarrassing Lacey. And then he’d gone and attacked her. His words had struck Lacey hard, and hell, they’d bothered Clay too.

  Any relationship between Lacey and him would feel like a betrayal to her family. He’d be a reminder of old pains, and his presence would create new hurts. He’d create friction between her and her mother and grandfather and even the town. And Clay didn’t want that…as much as he was beginning to want Lacey Montgomery. But there was one thing he’d become good at through the years, and that was denying his cravings.

  “I don’t trust the word of a Stevens,” Lace
y’s grandfather said.

  Clay felt his lips form into a humorless smile. “No, I wouldn’t expect you would.”

  “You stay away from her.”

  He should, but he couldn’t completely. He’d promised to drive her to the zoo and to the doctor appointments in the city. Those things were good for Lacey, and he wouldn’t renege. “I’ll keep my distance in the way that matters.”

  Lacey’s grandfather’s chest expanded, and even his thick mustache seemed to shake with indignation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I have obligations toward your granddaughter, so I can’t avoid her altogether. You may see me driving her around town, but that’s it.”

  “I want you to leave her alone. I can take her wherever she wants to go. Hasn’t your family caused ours enough trouble?”

  The words slammed into Clay harder than a physical blow. He’d been thinking the exact same thing, which he supposed was what made them so impactful. He couldn’t escape his father’s legacy. Not here in Sagebrush Flats at least. From time to time, he’d thought about moving. He could sell his spread and buy a smaller, greener one far away. But he had roots in this dry land. And ironically, Sagebrush was the only place he felt that he fit—the town’s attitude be damned.

  “If Lacey asks me to stop, then I will,” Clay said. “That’s all I can promise, other than I have no intention of hurting her.”

  Buck didn’t move as red suffused his weathered face. For a moment, Clay thought Lacey’s grandfather might take a swing at him. The old rancher’s hands slowly clenched into fists. Clay braced himself for the blow. He didn’t want to embarrass the elderly man by ducking. He’d let him get in a punch. Buck had probably been yearning to hit a Stevens for years, and Clay was the only adult member of the clan around.

  “You’re a bastard,” Buck repeated.

  “So everyone in this town likes to claim.”

  Buck’s flush spread to his neck as he opened and closed his fingers. Clay probably shouldn’t have made the verbal swipe, but it wasn’t easy being the town’s favorite punching bag. Sometimes, he needed to get a jab in too. Buck made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. He threw up his hands and stalked down the aisle. The old cowboy might not be as steady on his feet as he’d once been, but he still made a hell of an exit.