Unintentionally Mine

by Stephanie Rowe

  Her gaze flicked to his cheek, and he suddenly remembered the scar that bisected the side of his face. He never thought about it much. Who the hell cared about a scar? But Chloe was soft, gentle, and sensitive. What would she think about a six-inch scar that belied every claim he'd just made? The thought made him tense, and he didn't like that. He didn't like worrying about his scar, or what someone would think about it.

  Scowling, he stood up and paced away from her. He leaned against the tiny kitchenette counter and folded his arms over his chest. "So, tell me, Chloe Dalton. Why were you barging into this cabin at ten o'clock at night in the first place?"

  She raised her eyebrows. "I felt as though my life was too tame and predictable. I thought that getting the living daylights scared out of me would make my day more interesting."

  He felt himself grin again, but he was learning not to be surprised by the fact she could coax a smile out of him. "Any other reasons?"

  She took a drink of her beer, wrinkling her nose as the bitterness drifted across her tongue. "First of all, you're kind of nosy. Second of all, the beer is kind of horrible."

  He grinned wider, amused by her inability to school her face into impassive, neutral expressions. "You know, the problem with trying to avoid questions with me, is that I'm an expert on not telling anyone anything that I don't want them to know, so I see right through that façade. So yeah, I'm nosy. Yeah, the beer sucks. But I still want to know what's going on that made you show up at this cabin and sprint into it without checking to see if anyone was here."

  She cocked her head, studying him. "Why do you want to know so badly?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."

  She smiled then, a gentle smile that made him want to grin. "Fair enough." Her gaze flicked away from him, drifting over the bare walls of the rustic cabin, before coming back to rest on his face. "In addition to losing my job yesterday, I also got evicted from the place I've been living in for the last ten years."

  Her voice was tight and calm, but he could instantly sense the depth of grief at her words, grief she was absolutely refusing to succumb to.

  Respect flooded him, but also empathy. She was tough, refusing to be broken, but something really shitty had crashed down upon her. "Sorry about that."

  "It's fine." She shrugged, tracing her fingers over the condensation on the bottle. "I was a little desperate, so Emma said I could stay here until I figure things out, because it was empty." She glanced at him, and cocked a sassy eyebrow at him. "She didn't realize, however, that Harlan had given you the keys. That phone call I just answered? That was Emma calling to warn me that you were already living here. Of course, being the intelligent woman that I am, I had already figured that out."

  "You were planning to stay here?" Guilt shot through Blue. There was no chance in hell he was stealing her safe house. He stood up. "No problem. It'll take me five minutes to pack, and the place is all yours." He set his beer on the counter of the kitchenette, and strode across the room to where his duffel was stashed. "I've already been here two days, and I told Harlan I wasn't staying any longer than that—"

  "Whoa." She stood up just as quickly, her hand going to his arm as he passed.

  He froze, his senses flashing to awareness at the feel of her touch. Her fingers were gentle, barely there, and yet he couldn't move away from her. He took a breath, and turned his head to look at her. "It's okay," he said softly. "The place is yours—"

  "No, I don't need it. Emma found another place, one that's in town, which I would prefer anyway." She rolled her eyes. "I was never a huge nature girl, but after tonight, I think I'd lie in bed all night waiting for the boogie man to get me if I stayed here. It's all good."

  "But you'll have to pay for that one, right?" He didn't move away from her touch, and she didn't take her hand away either.

  Her face softened. "It's very sweet of you to be concerned about that, but the answer is no, actually. You know how Harlan is a real estate agent in his spare time?" At his nod, she continued on. "He has a vacant listing that's for sale, but the owners said I could stay there for free while it's on the market. They figure it'll help sell if the windows are opened and the mustiness is aired out, so I'm good. That's where you're driving me tonight, unless you can work magic with my car."

  He grimaced. "I don't want to complicate things for you—"

  "It's not complicating anything," she interrupted. "Seriously, this works out better for me." She patted his arm. "But I appreciate your willingness to surrender the cabin to me." Her smile faded. "It's nice. Nice is good."

  He still didn't move. "I'm not nice."

  She raised her brows. "No?"

  "No." Her face was so close to his. Only inches away. Her mouth...it was insanely tempting. He imagined brushing a kiss over her forehead. Across her cheeks. Against the corner of her mouth.

  Her eyes widened, and she caught her breath. Suddenly, that same tension that had been strung so tight when they'd first walked in was back, only this time, it hummed with higher intensity, like the eerie silence when a night was too still, indicating that all hell was about to break loose.

  He brushed his fingers along her jaw, and she froze, not even breathing. "Would it be inappropriate to kiss you right now?"

  "Yes." She blurted out the answer before he'd finished asking the question. "Don't kiss me." But she didn't retreat, or even turn her head away from the brush of his fingers along her jaw. "Don't even think about it."

  He shrugged. "Can't help thinking about it."

  "Well, find a way." She swallowed hard.

  "Can't." Silently, he moved his hands so his fingers were resting on her throat. The frantic fluttering of her pulse was like a butterfly beneath his touch, delicate, untamed, and beautiful. "You could stay here instead of going into town tonight."

  Her eyes widened. "Stay here? With you?"

  "Yeah." He ran his fingers along her collarbone, tracing the delicate curve of her body.

  She closed her eyes, inhaling sharply at his touch, leaning into him ever so slightly. "Never."

  "Why not?" He wanted to kiss that fluttering pulse in her throat. He wanted to trace it with his lips, and his tongue. He wanted to taste her lips.

  "Because—" She stopped, her breath catching again as he bent his head and pressed a feather-light kiss to the delicate skin of her throat. "Oh, God. Really? You had to do that?"

  "Yeah, I did. Your throat was calling to me. Didn't you hear it? It was whispering my name. Blue, kiss me. Blue, kiss me now."

  She made a strangled noise that sounded like a cross between laughter and disgusted, skeptical scorn. "My body would never beg for a man's kiss. Ever. You're delusional."

  "Probably." He pressed another kiss to her collarbone, and her fingers tightened on his arm, where they were still resting from her initial contact. "But as delusions go, it's an extremely pleasant one, so I'm just going to go with it." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Can you hear it? Now it's your cheek whispering to me. Blue. Kiss me."

  "My cheek is not saying that—" He brushed a kiss over her left cheekbone. "Damn you," she whispered.

  He bent his head, so his lips were hovering over hers. "What about your lips? Can you hear them whispering?"

  "They're telling you to stop bugging me." But her fingers continued to grip his arm, and she didn't pull away.

  "What about the corner of your mouth? Right here?" He kissed the spot in question.

  She tightened her grip on his arm. "Oh, yeah, maybe there. That might have been saying something to you."

  "And this corner?" He tried the other.

  She made a small noise of pleasure that made him grin. "It's a distinct possibility," she muttered. "But only because that particular corner of my mouth is stupid, irresponsible, and a glutton for situations that would leave it strewn across the highway in a thousand shattered pieces."

  He slid his hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in the strands. "No need for shattered pieces," he said gently. "I can'
t have any of that when I'm around. I'm a sucker for picking up broken pieces and trying to glue them back together. I can't ever leave them scattered around. It's against my nature." His lips brushed hers, barely, just a whispered touch that made visceral longing course through him, tightening every muscle in his body. "I need to kiss you, Chloe. Like my life fucking depends on it."

  Her eyes snapped open, and she searched his face. He knew he'd sounded too desperate, but he didn't pull back. He let her see the raw, brokenness of his soul. He let her see it, because she'd already ripped away his shields, leaving him with no defenses.

  "Kiss me, Blue," she whispered. "Kiss me, now."

  "Chloe." With a low groan, he closed the distance between them, and claimed her mouth with his own.

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  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Rides a Motorcycle

  He was tired.

  He was cranky.

  He was wet.

  Zane Stockton idled his motorcycle outside his brother's ranch house, narrowing his eyes at the darkened windows. Gone was the time when he'd let himself in and crash. There was a woman in there now, and that changed all the rules, especially when it was two in the morning.

  He probably shouldn't have come tonight, but he was here, and he was done being on the road for now. Rain had been thundering down on him for hours, and he was drenched all the way to his bones. He just wanted to sleep and forget about all the crap that had gone down today.

  Trying not to rev the engine too much, he eased his bike down the driveway past the barn and turned right into the lean-to beside the bunkhouse. He settled his bike and whipped out a couple towels to clean it off, making sure it was mud-free before calling it a night.

  He grabbed his bag from the back of the bike, scowling when he realized it had gotten wet, then sloshed across the puddles toward the front door of the bunkhouse. He retrieved the key from the doorframe, and pried the thing open.

  It was pitch dark inside, but he knew his way around and didn't bother with a light. He dropped the bag, kicked off his boots and his drenched clothes, then headed for the only bed that was still set up in the place, ever since Steen and Erin had rearranged it for their own use during their temporary stay there. At least they'd upgraded their lodging so the bunkhouse was now available again for use by the family vagrant.

  Zane jerked back the covers and collapsed onto the bed. The minute he landed, he felt the soft, very real feel of a body beneath him, including the swell of a woman's breast beneath his forearm. Shit! "What the hell?" He leapt to his feet just as a woman shrieked and slammed a pillow into the side of his head.

  "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you! I'm Chase's brother!" He grabbed the pillow as it clocked him in the side of the head again. "Stop!"

  There was a moment of silence, and all he could hear was heavy breathing. Then she spoke. "You're Chase's brother?" Her voice was breathless, and throaty, as if he'd awakened her out of a deep sleep, which he probably had. It sounded sexy as hell, and he was shocked to feel a rush of desire catapult through him.

  Shit. He hadn't responded physically to a woman in a long time, and now he'd run into a woman who could turn him on simply by speaking to him? Who the hell was she? "Yeah," he said, sounding crankier than he intended. "Who are you?"

  "You're Steen?" He heard her fumbling for something, and he wondered if she was searching for a baseball bat, pepper spray, or something that indicated she hadn't been nearly as turned on by his voice as he'd been by hers.

  "No, a different brother," he replied, his head spinning as he tried to figure what was going on, and why he was reacting to her so intensely. "I'm Zane. Harmless. Good guy. No need to decapitate me."

  There was a pause in her movements. "I wasn't going to decapitate you. I was looking for my shirt."

  "Your shirt?" he echoed blankly. "You're not wearing a shirt?" He hadn't noticed much bare skin for that brief moment he'd been on top of her. How had he missed it?

  "I'm wearing a camisole, but it's not exactly decent. Give me a sec." A small laugh drifted through the darkness. "You're such a guy. Of course you'd fixate on the possibility of me being naked. Do all men think only of sex?"

  He grinned, relaxing. He'd startled her, but she'd regrouped quickly, and he liked that. She wasn't a wimp who was running to the door screaming. "What's your name?" he asked.

  "Taylor Shaw. I'm Mira's best friend from home. I surprised her for a visit, but it turns out, there's no space in the house."

  "Nope. Not anymore. I'm displaced too." He suddenly wanted to see her. "You decent yet?"

  "Yes, but barely—"

  He reached over and flicked on the small light by the bed. The soft yellow glow was less harsh than the overhead light, but it still took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. When they did, he saw Taylor sitting on the bed, curly blond hair tumbling around her shoulders in a disheveled mess that made her look completely adorable. Her eyes were green, fixed on him as she squinted against the sudden light. He could see the curve of her shoulders beneath the light pink, long-sleeved shirt she was wearing. The faint outline of a white camisole was evident beneath her shirt, not quite obscuring the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her gray yoga pants were frayed at the knee and cuff, but they fit her hips with perfection. She looked like she'd just tumbled right out of a bed, and she was sexy as hell.

  But it was her face that caught his attention. Her gaze was wary, but there was a vulnerability in it that made him want to protect her. He had zero protective instincts when it came to women…until now, until he'd met this woman who'd tried to defend herself with a pillow.

  Then her gaze slid down his body, and his entire body went into heated overdrive. It wasn't until her eyes widened in horror when her gaze was at hip level that he remembered something very important.

  He was naked.

  * * *

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  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Loves Forever

  Something deep inside Hannah tugged at her, a yearning to accept Lissa's offer to crash at her house for the night. The thought of being surrounded by people who would protect her, whose natural instinct was to offer help, was almost too much to even imagine. But as strong as the yearning was to accept it, Hannah knew she never would.

  She had learned too long ago that the only person she could count on was herself. Well, also Katie, but her beloved sister was no longer around, and their mother had long ago passed away.

  It was up to Hannah to take care of herself and her daughter, and she wouldn't know how to put their well-being in the hands of others, even if she had to. So she managed a smile and shook her head. "Thank you so much for the offer, Lissa, but we'll be fine. If you could just write down directions to my new rental place, I'll be all set."

  Lissa folded her arms across her chest, her forehead furrowing into a frown. "I really don't think you should go up there tonight, with the approaching blizzard. You don't even know if the electricity will be turned on! Plus, I don't know how to give directions. It's a bunch of back roads with no street signs. You'll never find it."

  Hannah's resolution flickered. "You can't tell me how to get there?"

  Lissa shook her head. "I'd have to drive you there. It's impossible to describe."

  Hannah thought of the storm outside, and knew she would never ask Lissa to drive in it just for her. What was she going to do? She couldn't go home with this stranger who'd so kindly opened her house to her and Ava, but there was no way she was going to risk getting lost in an approaching blizzard with a four-year-old in the back seat. Desperation rushed through Hannah as she frantically tried to think of another solution, something other than imposing upon Lissa. "What if—"

  Lissa's gaze suddenly flicked behind Hannah, and a smile lit up her face. It was a smile of such joy that Hannah knew Lissa had just seen someone she loved, someone who mattered to her. For a split second, envy flooded Hannah, a deep, almost unbearable sense of longing to have someone look at her like that, or to f
eel that way about anyone...but as soon as she thought it, she sat up taller on the stool.

  No. There was no room in her life to put her self-worth into the hands of someone else's approval. She would provide all the love that she and Ava needed. Her heart had already been broken by the passing of her mom and Katie, and she had no more heart left to risk by turning it over to anyone else.

  Lissa beamed at Hannah. "Perfect timing, it seems to me, don't you think?"

  "Perfect timing?" At Lissa's delighted nod, Hannah swiveled on her stool to see who was coming in. She turned just as a shadow passed by the front window, and the door opened. There was a jingle of the bells, and then a man in a cowboy hat stepped inside.

  No. She was wrong. He wasn't simply a man. He was a rough and rugged cowboy, a dark, brooding loner with insanely broad shoulders, dark blond hair curling under his snow-covered cowboy hat, and blue jeans that hung low and loose over his hips. His jaw was angular, accented by a day's whiskers, and he was at least six feet tall. He was pure male and testosterone, dangerous and devastatingly handsome, in a stay-away tormented-male kind of way. He was scowling, looking so irritated with the world that her heart turned over, because she knew the world that he was seeing. That was what she saw as well, when she looked around: darkness, danger, and isolation.

  "Maddox!" Lissa called out his name, the happiness evident in her voice.

  Maddox flashed her smile, the kind of smile that made Hannah's heart tighten, because it was the kind of smile she also gave most of the world. A smile that was in name only, hiding all the weight inside her soul. It was a smile that said his heart had long ago forgotten how to smile. "Hey, Lissa," he said. "How's my favorite future sister-in-law?"

  Hannah didn't even hear Lissa's response. She was too consumed by Maddox and the sheer power that seemed to be emanating from him. His voice was deep and rough, rolling through Hannah like a warm caress designed to smooth all the rough edges of her heart, and lighten the deepest shadows of her soul. Even Ava shifted in Hannah's arms, lifting her head to look at him.