by Kim Redford
Ivy leaned her forehead against Slade’s back, feeling as if everything she’d tried to avoid was already a well-established fact in the county. And it made no sense. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Whoa, doggies.” Oscar held up one hand. “Settle down. I’m just relating gossip, not fact. But you’ve got to admit—”
“We’re admitting nothing,” Slade said.
Oscar gave a quick nod, agreeing with his head but not with his eyes. “That being the case, you’d both better be down at the Chuckwagon first thing for breakfast. Lula Mae will want an accounting. You can bet your bottom dollar on that.”
Slade groaned. “There’s nothing to tell Granny. I was baking sample cookies to serve at the Hall when I got distracted and they got a bit overdone.”
“Distracted, huh?” Oscar said, chuckling under his breath.
“After that, I wanted Ivy where it was safe.”
Oscar looked over his shoulder, then back again, but said nothing while implying that the half-restored house prone to rustlers wasn’t his idea of safety.
“That’s true,” Ivy said, backing up Slade, not knowing why they were explaining themselves in the first place. “Anyway, I’m only here for a few hours before I go back to the Park. No time for breakfast anywhere. And Slade was just showing me his house renovations.”
Oscar patted the top of Tater’s head. “We better be on our way. Lula Mae will expect us early.”
“Don’t mention the burnt cookies,” Slade said, “or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“And don’t mention the girlfriend thing either,” Ivy added for good measure, although she had little hope of anything remaining secret for long in Wildcat Bluff.
Oscar’s right eye twitched as he tried to keep a straight face. “Okeydoke. No cookies. No girlfriend.”
“Yes, she is my girlfriend,” Slade said, “and I want everybody to know it.”
“If I’m your girlfriend, you burnt the cookies.” Ivy gave his muscular shoulder a hard look since she couldn’t see his face.
Oscar coughed, obviously trying to conceal laughter, as he backed up with Tater beside him. “I got no more to say on the matter…except I’ll make sure all the critters get fed come dawn. See y’all at breakfast.” He spun around and walked away.
Ivy didn’t move, and Slade didn’t either until they heard the front door open, close, and the lock snick into place.
“We don’t really have to go to breakfast in a few hours, do we?” Ivy asked, thinking about her clothes back in the cabin in comparison to what she’d brought with her. “I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.”
“You wanted to meet Granny, didn’t you?”
“Yes…at some time in the future when I had Wildcat Hall under control and my life back on track.”
“How soon do you think that’s going to happen?”
She gave a big sigh. “Not anytime soon.”
“Granny’s not a patient lady.”
“Tell you what. You take me home. You go to your good home. In the morning, you go see your grandmother on your lonesome.”
“No.”
“What’s wrong with my plan?”
“Everything.”
She put her hands on her hips. “If I walk into that café with you first thing in the morning, all the gossip will be confirmed and that’ll be that.”
“Good. That’s what I want.”
“But I’m not your girlfriend.”
He picked up her hand, turned it over, and kissed her palm. “By morning, you will be.”
She shivered at his touch, while thoughts of Oscar, Tater, rustlers, and anything beyond Slade’s kiss flew out the window. He grounded her in the here and now, taking her with him into his world as he pressed a hot kiss to her wrist. She felt her heart beat faster, knowing he felt it, too, as he lingered to trace her veins with the tip of his tongue. She shivered again.
He lifted his head, blue eyes blazing with intent as he stroked her palm with his thumb. “Cold?”
She just looked at him, knowing he knew how he was affecting her—and it wasn’t a chilly night, although the house was cool, maybe not even heated throughout all the rooms.
“Why don’t you try out my bath?”
“Really?” She tried to put disdain, disbelief, and denial in that one word, but it came out more as a question than a statement.
He grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, yeah, I admit I am trying to get you out of your clothes, but it’s for a good cause.”
“And what cause is that?”
“Me. And you.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty. “I think you’ve been trying to do that since the moment we met.”
He laughed with her. “I won’t deny it.”
She decided to be brutally honest before they went any further down this path. “I don’t want us hurt.”
“I’d never hurt you.”
“But I might hurt you.”
“Doubt it. Anyway, you don’t think I’m man enough to take a little pain?”
“That’s not it. I don’t want to hurt you—or me.”
“You’re talking emotions, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She straightened her shoulders, determined to get through this before she lost the courage. “I’ve told you from the beginning that I’m going back to Houston when Fern returns.”
“I know. I’ve been hearing you. I just don’t believe you.”
“You don’t want to believe me.”
“There’s that, too.”
“So, to avoid the possibility of emotional pain, what do you say we leave this where it is and you take me back to the cowboy cabins right now?”
He lifted a hand and brushed loose hair back from her face, looking tenderly at her. “Do you think I’ve come this far and waited this long to let you go so easily? If you do, you don’t know me at all.”
“That’s just it. I don’t know you.”
“I’ve been trying to remedy the situation, but you keep balking on me.” He reached behind him to the control panel, lowered the lights, and started water filling the bathtub.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what I should’ve done the moment we got here. You’re tired. I’m tired. Let’s take a bath and wash off the day.”
“Together?”
He walked over to the vanity, pulled a bottle out of a basket, and poured liquid into the gushing water. The room filled with the scent of lavender as bubbles roiled and foamed in the tub.
“Are you trying to say we stink?”
“Burnt-cookie perfume isn’t ever going to make it onto Morning Glory’s list of favorite scents.”
Ivy smiled, knowing it was true.
“I’m going to the kitchen and opening a bottle of wine.” He took a step back toward the door. “When I get back, I want to find you in the tub underneath all those bubbles.”
“And you?”
“I’ll take a shower.”
She nodded, feeling relieved he wasn’t going to press the shared-bath point, because she really wanted a good soak, and she tended to get all weak-kneed and weak-willed around him.
After he left, she quickly stripped out of her clothes, noticing they reeked of smoke worse than she’d realized, but all she could do was fold and set them on top of the vanity. She pulled a fluffy, rust-colored washcloth and matching towel out of a cabinet and set them on the edge of the luxurious tub. She quickly stepped into the water and sank down to her chin under a massive amount of bubbles that covered her completely. She let out a long sigh of contentment and closed her eyes, feeling as if she could let go of all her concerns for the first time since setting foot in Wildcat Bluff County.
And yet,
easing her body just set her mind adrift. To set the record straight, she did know Slade, partly through the eyes of those who’d known him forever. He was well respected and trusted in the community. And she knew him enough now to put her trust in him. Without a doubt, he’d keep her safe, watch over her, and respect her. Was there even a price that could be put on something that rare and valuable? They’d come together so fast that she kept discounting his feelings and her own, but did the length of time really matter? Is that what was important…or was the reality of how they’d meshed from the first moment they’d met more important? Maybe they’d made time stand still for just the two of them.
And then she had another thought. What if Peter received an offer for the Park? How would she ever explain to Slade that she had gone to a Realtor in the first place? Even if she didn’t sell, he’d feel betrayed, as would everyone in Wildcat Bluff.
When he came back into the bathroom, carrying two mugs from the kitchen, she pushed down her uneasy thoughts, trying to convince herself that she might never get an offer, so there was no need yet to contact Peter about changing her mind. She accepted a mug and took a sip of his delicious wine. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He sat down on the edge of the tub and sipped his wine as he watched her. “You look perfect there—just like I knew you would from the first moment I saw you.”
“Do you mean you thought of me in your bathtub?”
“Yeah. I admit it. It’s as if I designed my suite with you in mind before I ever met you.” He set his mug down on the vanity top, then jerked open his shirt, one snap after the other, until he pulled the tail out of his jeans. “I’m starting to sound like a sap, aren’t I?”
She simply stared in wonder at his exposed chest, feeling her heart rate ratchet up a notch as she followed the trail of dark-blond hair across his sleek muscles down to his huge belt buckle.
“You’re not saying anything. Are you agreeing with me?” he asked, sounding annoyed as he removed his shirt and tossed it beside his mug.
She swallowed hard to try to control the heat that had enveloped her at the sight of him nearly naked. “No. You sound like a strong man—”
“In love?” He stalked over, knelt beside her, and placed his forearms on the side of the tub.
“I didn’t say… I didn’t mean… I don’t know.”
“If you’re allergic to the word girlfriend, how do you feel about love?”
She suddenly felt very exposed in the tub, even with the bubbles covering her. Maybe that was part of her reluctance to follow where he led—he made her feel more vulnerable all the time. And yet, could she let her fears dictate her life when Slade was offering his heart on a silver platter with whipped cream and a cherry on top? She was starting to adore everything about him.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“I feel as if… Are those tattoos?” She’d never seen him without his shirt, and she suddenly realized that a barbwire tattoo circled his right bicep—which was about as big around as her waist—while a lasso twined around the other.
“Yep. I got them while on the circuit.” He flexed his powerful muscles to make the tattoos move. “Hope you like them.”
She reached out and traced the barbwire, leaving goose bumps in her wake, before she did the same to the rope. “Yes, I like.”
“You got any?”
She smiled. “Not yet.”
“Maybe you need a ‘love’ tattoo, then there’d be no doubt as to how you feel about me.”
“When did we get from girlfriend to love?”
“Love is where we started. Girlfriend is simply a step in the right direction.” He grinned like he was well on his way to winning a new belt buckle—one that read “Ivy Bryant” in big, bold letters.
And she couldn’t deny that he might be right.
Chapter 19
Ivy was so tempted by Slade, particularly since he had enough muscle and testosterone to run a big city’s power plant. She took a deep breath, trying to control her need to grab him and pull him into the tub…but that helped matters not at all, because she simply inhaled all that tantalizing, musky scent deep into her body. And that, of course, set her on fire.
“Need any help?” He picked up the washcloth on the tub’s edge with a little quirk of his lips to let her know he knew she was looking at him and liking what she saw just as much as he liked what he saw in his bathtub.
She snatched the cloth out of his hands and dunked it underwater, out of his reach, not yet ready to give up her resistance. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
He smiled, blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he teased her. “Need me to find that washcloth for you?”
“Do you mind? I’m trying to take a bath here.” She was beyond grumpy, caught between wanting him and not wanting to succumb to him, because every step she took toward him felt like a step into the country and away from the city.
“I’m just trying to help.” He chuckled, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling, swiped bubbles with the tip of one finger, and dabbed it on the tip of her nose. “There. You can’t ever say I didn’t help you take a bath.”
Finally, she couldn’t keep from smiling at his antics. Somehow he always knew when to add a touch of levity to life…maybe because he knew when his attentions were getting too strong and she was getting too uncomfortable.
“Guess it’s time for my shower.” He stood up, suddenly serious as he looked down at her. “Want to help me?”
“Oh, Slade, you’re such a temptation.”
“I hope so.” He smiled wistfully. “I’m doing my best.”
“Your best is more than enough.”
He grinned, then walked out of sight.
When she heard his jeans hit the floor and the shower come on, she grabbed the washcloth and began scrubbing all over, hardly appreciative of the wonderful, lavender-scented soap. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now except Slade naked in the shower just a few feet away.
And that’s what finally did it. She broke. Burnt cookies. Chili. Stew. Pie. Fire. Red tinsel. Images flashed through her mind of all he’d been to her since he stepped inside the Hall and found her trying to reach the antlers. He’d brought help, gifts, comfort…and most of all, he’d given her unconditional… She didn’t want to think love, but it came close to that deep commitment. And on top of it all, there was the heat that arced between them every time they were together. Could she really pass up a man who offered her so much…and who was beginning to feel more like home than her real home?
She abruptly stood up, letting water cascade down her body to pool in the tub. She was clean. She’d washed away the stench of burnt cookies. She had no reason to stay in the bathroom. Except one.
She stepped out of the warm water, walked across the cool tile, and opened the door to the steamy shower.
Slade gave her a slow smile that gained in wattage as he stepped back to make room for her.
She caught her breath at his beauty, all shimmery with water and soap and sleek skin. If she’d been hot before, now she was positively incandescent. She probably cast a crimson glow as he took his time, his eyes feasting on every single inch of her body before returning to her face.
She feasted on him in return—male perfection, as in a ridiculous amount of musculature from head to toe after a lifetime of hard outdoor work gave his wide shoulders, broad chest, flat stomach, and long legs a chiseled appearance. She wanted to stroke him all over to feel the play of his muscles under her hands, watching what she could do to him with touch if just the sight of her had him so far over the edge that he jutted toward her.
“Coming in or staying out?” he asked in a husky tone.
“In.” She moved forward, stepping into wet warmth, hearing him close the door behind her, enclosing them in a rainy mist of tropical fragrance.
She expected him to be eager, but he took his time, cla
sping her shoulders and holding her gently like she was the most precious gift in the world. He slowly stroked down her back with rough palms, finding every single dip and curve with his fingertips as if he was memorizing her. When he reached her hips, he paused, as if preparing for something so powerful, so life-altering that he had to be strong enough for them both to continue their passion.
She understood. She truly did—to trust or not to trust, to let in or to keep out, to take a chance or to turn back. Now was the pivotal moment. She cared about him, as much as she’d tried not to do it. She cared…and because she cared so much, she wouldn’t put all the responsibility on him. They were in this together now. She reached up, gently cupping his cheek with one hand. He turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss into her palm.
Tenderness. She hadn’t expected to feel so tender toward him. It almost overpowered the passion that had driven them toward each other from the first moment they met. Maybe he felt the same. Maybe it was also why he hesitated. Maybe he wanted to savor the feeling just a little bit longer.
As that tender feeling in her heart grew stronger, ratcheting up into a fast heartbeat, she smiled up into his radiant blue eyes and felt his hands grasp her hips harder, as if he was hanging on to control by his very fingertips. And yet she was the one who finally lost control, as the looks, the touches, the feelings ignited a hot, wild desire that drove her to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him with ferocious abandon.
And he returned her kiss with an equal ferocity, tugging her hard against his body so that they were touching from head to toe as water gently cascaded over them, enveloping them in their own private world.
She clasped his shoulders, straining against him, wanting more, needing more, getting desperate for more of what only he could give her.
Suddenly, he tore his mouth from hers and set her back, breathing hard. “Ivy, let’s take this to the bed. I can’t… It’d be easier for me if…”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She was abruptly brought back to reality, remembering his injury. “Are you okay to—”