Wish Upon a Cowboy

by Jennie Marts

  A collection of aprons hung from a hook next to the pantry, and Bryn rifled through them and pulled out the frilliest one. It was pink and teal with a hot-pink ruffle and a giant glittery cupcake on the front. She held the armholes up as she offered the cowboy a challenging stare.

  He held her gaze, his mouth set in a hard line as he accepted her dare. He took off his hat and hung it on the coatrack, then stepped into the apron and turned for Bryn to tie it around his waist.

  Harper had been watching the exchange, and the tension between the other couple was as thick as the pie filling that had earlier been strewn around the room. She stood a little behind Logan and clutched the back of his shirt, holding her breath as Bryn took a step closer to Zane and picked up the apron ties. It was obvious by the slight tremor in her hands that as bold as Bryn was acting, she was a little unnerved by tying a bow around the lean waist of the handsome cowboy.

  Logan turned and winked at Harper. That small gesture told her he was picking up the same tension between the other two, and he must have approved. “Hey, that’s the apron I was going to choose,” he said.

  Zane turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowed in a death stare as he glared at Logan. He lowered his voice. “Tough shit. There’s only one man in this room who’s badass enough to wear a glittery cupcake on his chest.”

  Logan took a menacing step forward. “We’ll see about that. Bryn, you got any more glitter in that stack?”

  Bryn pressed her lips together to keep from laughing as she rifled through the assortment of aprons. “No glitter. Best I’ve got is dancing chickens or”—she paused as she dug through and pulled out another choice—“purple pansies.” The apron was lavender and yellow with an array of pansies covering the bodice and a cranberry silk flower pinned to the top corner.

  Logan held Zane’s unwavering glare, not backing down, as he held out his hand. “I’ve gotta go with the pansies. That pink posy on the front is the clincher.” He pulled it over his head, and Harper hustled forward to tie the strings around his waist.

  He planted a hand on his hip and glowered at Zane. “Who’s the badass now?”

  Zane pressed his lips tighter together and shook his head, trying to hold back his grin. But he couldn’t do it, and a hard laugh burst from his lips. He bent forward, holding his stomach as gales of laughter poured from him.

  They all busted out, joining in the raucous laughter, giggling and hooting. Harper let out a snort of uncontrollable hilarity when Logan held out his arm and the two badass cowboys in their frilly aprons linked elbows and did a high-stepping circle followed by a do-si-do. Then Logan let go and looped his arms through Harper’s and swirled her around as Zane followed suit with Bryn.

  The little dog yipped and tried to jump on Bryn and Zane as if it wanted in on the dance, and Bryn let go of Zane and lifted the dog into her arms.

  Zane shrugged. “Damn, you know you’re a terrible dancer when your partner replaces you with a three-legged dog.”

  “This dog might not have four legs, but he’s got soul,” Bryn teased as she swirled around with the dog.

  Logan chuckled and patted Zane sympathetically on the shoulder.

  Harper doubled over, holding her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. This was a new feeling for her—this rowdy laughter and camaraderie with a group of friends. But she was having fun. Heck, it was so fun just to feel like she had friends. And she couldn’t remember the last time her stomach had hurt this much from laughing. It was good. This was good.

  Bryn put the dog down and headed to the sink to wash her hands. “Enough with the dance party. We need to get to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Logan said. “Just tell us what to do.”

  Harper chose the apron with the dancing chickens and pulled it over her head as the waitress laid out an assembly line of instructions. Bryn and Harper would be in charge of mixing the dough while Zane and Logan greased and floured the pans. Then the men would roll out the crusts while the women put together the filling. They made a plan to do five at a time, starting with the apple, then moving on to the cherry and peach.

  “What are you going to do with all these pies?” Zane asked as he picked up a stick of butter.

  “Sell them,” Bryn said. “I spent weeks this summer and fall collecting and canning this fruit from the trees on our property. I sold pies last year at the church’s Christmas bazaar and made just enough to cover the yearly taxes due for this farmhouse. That was my plan for this year too.”

  “Why don’t I just buy the pies that the goat ate, and you can tell the church you sold out?” Zane reached for his wallet.

  The other three stopped what they were doing to look at the cowboy.

  Bryn blinked, her voice soft as she asked, “You would do that? Buy all fifteen pies?”

  Zane shrugged, a scowl forming on his lips as a pink tinge colored his cheeks. “Yeah, why not? If it helps you out. And saves you the stress of having to remake them all.”

  She swallowed. “Thank you. That’s really nice. And unexpected. But I can’t take your money.”

  His scowl deepened. “What’s wrong with my money?”

  “Nothing. It’s not that. It’s just that most of the pies were preordered, so people have already paid for them and are expecting to pick them up tonight.”

  The tension in his shoulders eased. “Gotcha. Well, we’d better get to work then. But you can put my name on one if you have any left at the end of the night. I’ll take it home to Birch. My dad will lose his mind over a home-baked pie.”

  The group spent the next three hours mixing, measuring, rolling, and baking. They finished with thirty minutes to spare. Standing in the kitchen, they gazed at the rows of gorgeous pies packed neatly in shallow tubs. Bryn had done lattice tops on most of them, but had used cookie cutters on the extra crust and added small touches like stars and Christmas trees to the tops before they were baked. The pies looked like festive works of art.

  Zane offered to drop Logan and Harper at River’s Gulch, then come back and drive Bryn and the pies into the church and help her get set up.

  “That would be so great,” Bryn said. “But you’ve already done so much.”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t done anything. I’m glad to do it. You get cleaned up. I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, and we’ll load the truck.”

  “Just keep the dang goat out of the house until he gets back,” Logan instructed as he leaned down to give Bryn a hug.

  The waitress laughed, then let go of Logan and pulled Harper into a hug. “Thanks so much. You all saved me today.”

  Harper was covered in flour, and her skin was sticky with sugar and fruit filling, but her insides were warm with joy. It felt so good to be considered a help instead of a burden. “It was nothing. I had fun.” They said their goodbyes, and she and Logan followed Zane out to the truck.

  Harper had said it was nothing to help Bryn. But that wasn’t true. It wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

  * * *

  Logan followed Harper into the house. The faint scent of cinnamon hung in the air, and the kittens mewled and tumbled out to greet them as they hung up their coats.

  He picked one up and cuddled it to his chest. “Darned if I’m not getting used to having these furry little things around the house.” They weren’t the only things he was getting used to having around the house, he thought as he watched Harper stroll into the kitchen and pour some cream into a dish for the kittens.

  She’d told him earlier that morning that they’d only gotten carried away in the storm and that what happened the night before couldn’t happen again. But her opposition didn’t quite match the expression in her eyes.

  He’d never said it was a mistake, and he wanted it to happen again. And again. He wanted her. He knew it didn’t make sense, knew she was going to leave—hell, she’d reminded him of that fact that very morning�
�but at this moment, gazing at her generous curves as she moved through his kitchen, he didn’t care about that.

  He didn’t care about anything except getting his hands on her and that luscious body beneath him. He’d think about her leaving later. Or maybe he wouldn’t think about it at all. Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt. It was also flowing through him right now.

  Harper turned to him, her smile easy, and his heart flipped over in his chest.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Do you want something to eat?”

  “Yeah, I am hungry, but not for something to eat.” He eased up behind her and slid his hands around her waist. “I’m hungry for you.” Her hair was still pulled up, and he bent to brush his lips against the side of her ear. “I thought I had a handle on this, but I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

  She didn’t answer, but he saw her pulse quicken in her throat. He pressed his lips to the spot, then laid a trail of kisses down the smooth slope of her neck, savoring the taste of her skin.

  Her breath seemed to cease completely.

  She turned in his arms and pressed her forehead to his. “I thought we agreed this couldn’t happen again,” she whispered.

  “I never agreed to that. I want this to happen.” He grazed her lips with a soft kiss. “Again. And again.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “But if you don’t want this…” He held her gaze as his hand slid down her side, over her hip, then slipped between her legs. “Tell me to stop.”

  She inhaled a sharp intake of breath, but didn’t say anything. Her eyes stayed locked on his as he slowly moved his hand, stroking and massaging. Sucking her bottom lip under her teeth, she pressed into him, a soft moan escaping her as she rocked against his palm.

  “Tell me to stop, Harper. You have to stop it, because Lord help me, I can’t do it on my own. I can’t stop thinking about you, about last night. But not just last night. About every moment I’ve spent with you. You make me laugh. You challenge me. And you make me want to be a better version of myself to live up to the way you look at me.”

  Her breath came out in a harsh gasp. “I’m nothing. You deserve more than someone like me.”

  “I don’t deserve you. But I want you. With every part of my soul.”

  His hand was still between her legs. He’d stopped moving, but he held her cupped in his palm. “Tell me now if you don’t want me, Harper. Tell me to stop.”

  Chapter 22

  “I can’t, damn you. I don’t want you to stop.” Harper buried her face in Logan’s neck and arched her chest against him. “Don’t ever stop,” she said breathlessly into his skin as she writhed against his hand, then moaned as he resumed stroking her.

  He’d never been so captivated by another woman’s pleasure, but once she said yes, she held nothing back.

  She took his breath away. He was a slave to the sensations moving through her, and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to please her, to hear her moan against his neck, to feel her fingers tighten against his back.

  He lifted her onto the counter and pushed her shirt up and pulled her bra down, freeing her full breasts and cupping one in his palm. He rubbed his thumb across one tightened nipple, and heat surged through him at the tiny moan his touch elicited. Dipping his head, he circled the same nipple with his tongue, drawing out the anticipation, knowing his breath was warm against her sensitive skin.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see her hands. Her knuckles were white from clutching the counter, and she clenched the fingers of one hand into her palm as he slowly drew the nub of her nipple between his lips, alternately licking and sucking. Her breath caught as he scraped the sensitive tip with his teeth before moving to the other breast and showing it the same attention.

  He stopped, pulled back, skimming a stare over her lush curves. He wanted to see her. He locked his gaze with those gorgeous green eyes. “You are so beautiful. I have to stop just to look at you.”

  She looked so damn sexy with her hair messy from his hands and her shirt pushed up, exposing her breasts. He wanted to strip the rest of the clothes from her body, but he was enjoying this view way too much. He planned to remember this moment, to memorize every inch of her skin, to capture the picture of her like this in his mind’s eye so he could remember it forever.

  He loved having her only half-undressed, knowing that he’d been thinking about what was under her clothes all day—hell, all week—and now he got to slowly peel them away, baring one section at a time.

  She offered him a slow, seductive grin, almost as if she could read his mind. Then she gripped the hem of her shirt, pulled it over her head, and dropped it to the floor.

  He reached down and flicked free the button of her jeans and slowly eased the zipper down. He felt the quiver of pleasure ripple through her as his thumb skimmed over the top edge of her lace panties, and then he slid his hand inside.

  Her fingers clutched his shoulders as she pushed against his hand, her body pleading for more. He gave in to her, demand coursing through him as the tempo of his stroking increased.

  He kissed her—had to—had to capture that gorgeous mouth. She kissed him back, so deeply she stole the air from his lungs. Greedily, he swallowed her blissful moans and soft whimpers of pleasure as she surrendered to the tremor that rose, then quaked through her.

  A growl ripped from his throat as she first clung to him, then dropped her head back and drew a ragged breath. He wanted to be gentle, but passion overwhelmed him and he pulled her legs around him, twining them around his waist as he lifted her off the counter and carried her to his bed.

  * * *

  Hours later, Harper woke, her body sated and still sleepy as she snuggled naked against Logan’s chest. Her legs were tangled with his, and she felt his deep inhale of breath as he stirred and ran his hand in a slow caress up her back.

  “Dang, I really fell asleep,” he said, his voice groggy as he dragged his hand through his hair.

  “I must have worn you out,” she teased.

  She heard his soft laugh. “Not hardly.” He rolled over and bent to kiss her, but his eye caught something over her shoulder. “Shit! Is that what time it is?” He scrambled out of bed and searched the floor for his pants.

  Harper raised her head to peer blearily at the clock. “I’m going to guess the clock is keeping accurate time, yes.”

  “I’m supposed to be at hockey practice in fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh shoot. I didn’t know you had to be somewhere. Can’t you skip it? Just this once?” She admired the view of his rippling abs as he pulled a clean T-shirt over his head. “Can’t you play hooky tonight instead of hockey?” She grinned at her own joke.

  “No, I can’t. Not that I don’t want to.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “But I can’t. I told Colt I’d be there.” His eyes widened, and he smacked a hand to his forehead. “Shit.”

  “You said that already.” She sat up in bed, dragging the sheets with her as she leaned against the headboard.

  “No. This time it’s serious. I’m in charge of the… Shit, shit, shit.” He kicked the blanket that had fallen off the bed across the floor. “Where the hell are my pants?”

  “What? You’re in charge of the shit, shit, shit? Slow down and tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

  He stopped and let out his breath. “I’m in charge of bringing two dozen cupcakes to practice tonight.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I actually can help with that.”

  “You can?”

  “Sure. There’s a cake mix and a container of white frosting in the pantry. I can make them and bring them down to the ice arena.”

  He sank onto the edge of the bed. “You’d do that? For me?”

  “Yes, of course. Well, for you. And the kids. Is chocolate okay?”

  “Chocolate is awesome. And we wouldn’t need them until after practice, which gives
you at least an hour and a half.”

  “Easy. I’ll have them there by seven.”

  He kissed her again. “Dang, but I do like you, Harper Evans.”

  She grinned as he bounced off the bed and grabbed a pair of clean socks from his drawer. “I like you too. And Logan…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your pants are on the floor in the living room by the sofa.”

  He offered her a devilish grin as he must have just remembered shucking the pants in their feverish rush to the bedroom. “Yes, they are.” He took two strides back to her and dove his hand into her hair as he leaned down to ravage her mouth. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat as he dragged himself away. “To be continued…” he said, racing out the door and down the hallway.

  “See you at seven.” She could hear him shimmying into his jeans and the two soft whooshes of his feet sliding into his boots.

  “Save some of the frosting,” he called.

  “Already planning on it,” she called back, an impish grin covering her face as she leaned back against the headboard and listened to the front door close behind him.

  * * *

  It took her twenty minutes to get dressed, mix the batter, and put the cupcakes in the oven. She set the timer, then dropped to the floor to play with the kittens. Tinkerbell got away from her and raced into Logan’s office.

  “Get back here, you little sneak,” Harper called as she followed the kitten into the den. It had found a paper clip on the floor and was batting it around with its paw. That could hurt if someone stepped on it just right in their bare feet. Harper picked up the paper clip and tossed it onto a stack of papers on the desk.

  The top page caught her eye. It was Logan’s notes on the upcoming sale of the cattle. The printout of the market report stuck up from behind his notes.

  As much as she tried to stay away from any kind of monetary equation, the lure of a good math problem was too much for her. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to just take a quick look at his calculations. He had said that he’d hoped he’d made a mistake.