Her Forever Cowboy (Harland County Series Book 4)

by Donna Michaels

  “Smart woman.”

  Now she nodded. “Yep. The best. My hero.”

  Sweet. And informative. Leave it at that. No need to ask anything else.

  Don’t ask anything else.

  Jesus, he was going to ask more. The hazards of mind-blowing sex. He was brainless. No cells left to form enough thought to keep his damn mouth shut.

  “What do you mean?”

  Yep, brainless.

  “My mom saved my life.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Damn. He hadn’t expected that. He tightened his grip on her and frowned. “What do you mean?” he repeated, this time with his brain’s consent.

  She laid her head on his chest and the breath of her sigh goose-fleshed his skin. “My dad liked to possess. Dominate. Control. Punish. Hit. Beat into submission.”

  Anger, so sharp and fierce, sliced through Kevin in such a painful rush he stilled and clenched his jaw to keep in the slew of expletives. Never had he experienced fury so strong in his entire life.

  “You’re probably wondering why my mom stayed with him, but that’s the thing. She didn’t. She packed us up and left many times, but he’d always find us, bring us back and beat us bad. Well, not Caitlin. Never Caitlin. I made sure of that.”

  His heart caught again and the unspoken meaning in that sentence hit him hard. She’d taken beatings for her younger sister. Son-of-a-fuckin’-bitch. The urge to hit something—preferably her father’s face—curled his hands into fists.

  Shayla paused, and although he was past caring about the need to keep her quiet, he remained silent, forced his hands to open and stroked her arm as he waited for her to continue. Somehow, he sensed…he knew she needed to get this out. And dammit, he needed to hear, even though he was certain he wasn’t going to like it.

  “The last time was the worst,” she said, voice low and devoid of all emotion. “I’d just competed and won regional’s, and my mom, Caitlin and I were celebrating in our little apartment when he showed up with a baseball bat.”

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  Kevin tried, really hard, to keep his body from stiffening and his breathing even. Any change in him and she was liable to clam up.

  “He went to swing at me, and my mom stepped in the way and got hit in the head. She flew backwards, and when he went to hit her again, I jumped on his back. That pissed him off even more. He knocked me to the floor and deliberately whacked my leg just below the knee. When he reeled back to swing at my head, my mom stood up behind him and clobbered him with a cast iron pan. The police arrived then. Caitlin had hid in the closet and dialed 911.”

  “I’m sorry, Shayla.” His words sounded feeble and stupid to his ears, but he had to say something. She’d been through hell. He could hardly stand it. No wonder the woman was closed off and cautious. Her demeanor made a lot of sense now. “Did your dad wear suits?”

  “Yes. All the time. His goons, too.”

  That explained the poling incident last year. She must’ve caught him approaching from the corner of her eye and instinct, survival instinct had set in.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling guilty that he’d had such a loving, happy childhood while his father had been alive.

  “Don’t be.” She turned to meet his gaze and did the most remarkable thing.

  She smiled.

  His heart caught again. How could she go through something like that, recant something like that, and smile?

  “My mom and I pressed charges, and we sent him a way for a long, long time. Life was good, Kevin. The constant fear and suppressing, suffocating pressure in my chest was gone. Sure, my aspirations of dancing were shot, but it was so worth it. My mom found us a great house to rent, had a great job. My sister and I went to a good school. For the first time in all my life, I was happy.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, tightening his hold, and knew she was waiting for him to ask. “What happened to your mom?”

  She closed her eyes and laid her head back down on him. “Four years later, a few weeks after I passed my driver’s test, we were all doing dishes after supper when my mom dropped a plate and grabbed her head. She was dead before she hit the floor.”

  “Jesus, Shayla. I’m so sorry.”

  The incredible woman nodded against him and drew in a breath so ragged he felt it clear to his toes.

  “Me, too. She’d had one too many blows to the head, I guess. Even though my dad was in prison, he still managed to murder my mom.”

  Kevin held her close, and his heart squeezed at the emotion heavy in her voice and the hot tears dripping onto his chest.

  So much for keeping their sex just sex.

  After a revelation like that, they’d rounded the corner to personal, and there was no going back. He couldn’t unhear what he’d heard. Or unfeel what he felt. Angry. Disgusted and so damn furious he could spit fire. And protective. He stroked her hair as she quietly cried.

  Shayla Ryan was a good woman. He admired the hell out of her. A brave woman who’d been through so damn much she deserved nothing but happiness and smiles. Although he couldn’t supply her with a lifetime of any of those, he could make her happy right then. That night.

  “Dammit, Kevin.” She sniffed, punching his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to tell you all that. Jeez, you boffed my brains out and I have nothing but mush left in my head now.” Lifting up on her elbow, she smiled at him, amusement returning to light her face. “It’s all your fault.”

  “Me? You’re the one who ravaged me and left my brains with my bones on the bathroom floor.”

  “Oh, really?” Bold and wicked, her hand trailed down his abs to stroke his favorite body part back to life. “Looks like I missed one,” she said, before taking him in her warm, wet mouth, making him swallow his tongue.

  He knew what she was doing, besides him. She was trying to get them away from that personal business and back on track with the hot sex. That worked for him. Yeah. He was much better at the hot sex thing than the personal thing and open feelings. Time to get them back on the good-time track and show her some of his famous fun.

  A little while later, after he silently vowed to make her forget everything, including her real name, he watched as she rode him hard and fast, and at that moment, he didn’t care about the name she was born with—only Shayla—the incredible, sexy woman who fogged his mind. Long, beautiful hair fell past her shoulders in soft, auburn waves, brushing her glorious, bouncing breasts, and her breathtaking, euphoric expression completely wiped the sadness from her face.

  Good. That was his goal. Make her happy. Give her everything she wanted.

  “Look at me, Shayla.” Blue eyes, wild and full of heat and need, so much need, stared down at him, nearly snapping his control. He knew what she wanted. And he was going to give it to her. “I want to watch you burst.”

  She nodded. “Make…me….”

  Wicked, incorrigible woman.

  He knew every inch of her gorgeous body and all her special spots. Running his hands down her breasts, he tweaked her mouthwatering, silver-dollar nipples and upped their rhythm.

  The little mewling sounds coming from her parted lips sent heat down his spine and the tell-tale tightening in his groin. They were both close now. Gripping her hip with one hand, he brushed her center with the thumb of his other, applying just the right amount of pressure exactly where she liked it the most. A second later, Shayla let out the sexiest damn moan as her walls clamped around him. Tight.

  “Hell yeah…”

  She felt good. So damn good.

  Kevin thrust hard and deep and completely lost his breath as her orgasm milked the fiercest climax he’d ever had. When the ringing subsided in his head, and vision returned, he removed his thumb from her center, and watched her come back to herself, with the best satisfied expression to date on her face.

  And as Shayla fell forward and landed on his chest panting and spent, Kevin knew he’d caught the extraordinary, resilient, single mother with his heart. No amount of denial could delete t
he fact they would never have just sex again.

  Best sex of her life.

  Not that the whole week had been shabby. Hell no. The things Kevin Dalton had done to her last night, the responses the Casanova cowboy had pulled from her were just this side of epic. The need, the burning, fierce drive to have him inside her was mind boggling. A puzzle she’d never solve. Shayla wasn’t even going to try. Just chalk it up to that combustible chemistry.

  But last night had been different. More. And she knew why. Because she’d opened up and shared part of her past. Part of her soul. Although it was a dumb, stupid slipup, she couldn’t bring herself to be mad or upset. The resulting sex had been too exhilarating and brain cell-zapping to care.

  Smiling, she made the bed, half of her happy, the other half sad that he’d gone into work again today. In fact, he’d been up at dawn working on some sort of code—after he’d worked on her. The man had an insatiable appetite. Which matched the one he’d created in her. Damn him. It was as if he reached in and rewrote her code. She was never going to be the same.

  But, she’d worry about that when she was back in Harland County. Not now. Not tonight. No. Tonight she planned to ask him about his parents. Make him open up. In between rounds of hot sex, of course. Asking after they’d had an incredible climax was key. Defenses would be down. Mind and body too relaxed to stop the tongue from waggling.

  Exactly what had happened to her last night.

  “Goggy.”

  The sound of Amelia talking in her crib emanated from the monitor on Kevin’s gorgeous nightstand. With the décor of the penthouse continuing into the master bedroom, the cowboy’s furniture was that beautiful, heavy mahogany, and the king-size bed they’d used at every angle was just as magnificent for sex as it was for sleeping. Damn man was spoiling her. Good thing Kerri had had a king-size bed in the apartment Shayla rented. At least going back to Harland County wouldn’t require her to downsize the mattress.

  Just give up one occupant.

  Her chest tightened at the thought, but she ignored the sensation, and the reason for the hiccup, and went to fetch her daughter. Keep it simple. They’d gone from having sex to friends having sex. That was okay. Normal. Sort of. Wasn’t exactly like when she and Bobby had had sex. But then again, that combustible chemistry hadn’t been a factor, either.

  Yeah, that was the difference. It was still okay. No harm done. No heart involved.

  But even as she went through the morning routine of dressing, feeding and playing with her daughter, Shayla knew, deep down, after last night, things had changed.

  Two hours later, mug of coffee in hand, she stared out at the Houston skyline, marveling at the height of some of the buildings, including the one she stood in. The view below was amazing. From the high angle, she could see forever.

  If only her life, her future was so attainable. Would Lyle ever leave her alone? Would Caitlin graduate and live happily with Greg? Would Amelia grow up to be happy and strong? Would Kevin be in her life?

  Whoa. She blinked and shook her head. Where the hell had that question come from? Of course the cowboy wouldn’t be in her life, at least, not in a forever kind of way. He was a player. Not bankable in a relationship. Yet, her gut told her this was untrue. Her eyes had even witnessed the guy doing things a Casanova would not do. He was not as irresponsible as she’d first believed.

  He was sweet to her daughter. A player would’ve run like a baby in the opposite direction once he discovered she had a child.

  He took care of her when she’d had the flu. A player would’ve turned around and raced down the hall when she’d first opened her door that night, not hold her hair back while she’d been sick, put her to bed and taken care of her daughter the whole night.

  Then there was Mrs. Avery. He stopped in and looked after his former English teacher. A player wouldn’t give a damn about an old lady and her cats.

  Even now, the cowboy stepped up to the plate. He took her and her daughter in, let them invade his space while her crazed father was on the loose. A player would’ve turned his back and left her to fend for herself, like Amelia’s father.

  Kevin was nothing like Brandon. Nothing like a player. Hell, he wasn’t a Casanova at all.

  Her heart caught in her chest, then rocked hard.

  Kevin was every bit of a good man, a responsible man like Kade, Cole and Connor. So, why did he pretend to be the opposite? What deep-seeded pain, guilt, was eating at him?

  The ringing of her cell phone startled her from her thoughts. Maybe it was Kade. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Maybe there was a problem. Or maybe it was just her boss with a job update. Shayla rushed to the counter where she set her mug before digging the phone from her snug jeans.

  That cheesecake she’d eaten off of Kevin last night wasn’t helping her hips. But, she should be burning off a trillion calories with all the sexercize she’d been getting. The smile twitching her lips grew when she glanced at the screen and saw Kevin’s name.

  “Hey,” she answered, her brain suddenly empty. Hey? Really?

  Idiot.

  “Hi, darlin’.” His rich, sexy voice reached through the phone and tickled her spine with an invisible caress. “How’s my favorite houseguest?”

  Houseguest. Right. That’s really all she was. A guest in his house. Nothing more. She’d do well to keep that in mind.

  “I’m good. A little sore, but it had been worth it.” Shoot. Why was she telling him that? She rummaged through the closest drawer. Duct tape. She needed some duct tape to stop her trap from upping her mortification meter.

  His soft chuckle warmed her inside. “Hot damn, darlin’. You got that right. I’d contemplated sitting in the elevator on the ride down to the garage this morning, but was reluctant to go through the third degree with Hoffman. He is a very thorough bodyguard/driver. But you’re thorough, too.”

  She leaned her back against the counter and laughed. “I was just returning the favor, cowboy.”

  “Mmm…you have great return, darlin’.”

  Her smile broadened.

  “I hate to intrude into your day, but I need you to go into my office.”

  “Okay,” she said, heading out of the kitchen to take a left and enter the room where she’d experienced her second orgasm trifecta Thursday night. His home office.

  Luxurious leather furniture, huge mahogany desk, equally big matching credenza, floor to wall window. Just remembering their rigorous sex stole her breath. She cleared her throat. “I’m here.”

  “See the folder that this idiot forgot in his haste to exit while his legs would barely carry him this morning?” he asked, smile evident in his tone.

  Her own mouth curved in a smile. “Yes. It’s red.”

  “That it is, darlin’,” he replied. “I need you to bring it to me here at McCall Enterprises.”

  Her smile disappeared. “What?”

  “Sorry, Shayla. I hate to ask you to leave the penthouse, but I need that folder for a phone conference marketing has in an hour. And I don’t have the information on my computer here at work. I prefer to safeguard it at home.”

  A small thrill shot through her, cancelling her insecurity of navigating through a strange city. No big deal. She’d manage. For him. The man was entrusting her with something he guarded as valuable. She would damn well be sure to deliver it to him in time.

  “No worries,” she reassured, grabbing the file before exiting the room. “Just tell me how to get there.”

  “You don’t have to worry none about that. Hoffman is on his way. He’ll drive you in, and no, I don’t want you to hand the file to him. I’d prefer you bring it to me. I trust the man with my life, not my code,” Kevin informed.

  With her heart hammering in her suddenly dry throat, she nodded as if the man could see her. Idiot. She swallowed past the lump his confidence in her had created, and forced herself to speak. “No problem.”

  “Thanks, darlin’. I owe you.”

  A wave of sensual heat washed down her bo
dy, dampening her thong as she shoved the file in Amelia’s diaper bag. “Oh, cowboy. That is a dangerous statement,” she said, restacking the books her daughter had spread out across the coffee table, as she worked to regain part of her composure.

  Amelia quickly pitched in, adding a book to the teetering pile.

  She could relate. Her restraint was eerily similar at that moment.

  “I know it’s dangerous. Please, make me pay,” he teased, effectively knocking over her teetering pile of self-control from within.

  Shayla laughed. “Count on it.” Then hung up to finish getting ready.

  The man was incorrigible.

  She was just placing Amelia’s empty sippy cup in the diaper bag along with an unopened juice box when a knock sounded on the door. Her heart hit the floor, but then common sense kicked in. Hoffman.

  Her daughter pushed up from the floor and smiled. “Daddy.”

  Shoot. Little bugger turned and ran to the door. Another knock sounded, louder this time. Shayla scooped up the redheaded roadrunner and peeked through the peephole. Just to be careful.

  A woman. Pretty. And blonde. In a blue flight attendant uniform.

  Her racing heart sank. Ah hell. Had to be one of Kevin’s lovers. Wiping all emotion from her features, Shayla answered the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Surprise, Ke—”

  The woman’s smile and voice disappeared as she blinked at Shayla and Amelia.

  “Kevin’s not here,” she said, proud to note her voice was even and strong.

  “Oh.” The Barbie wannabe glanced past them, no doubt horrified at the toy disaster strewn all over the living room.

  “He’s at work,” she added. “Was he expecting you?”

  “Not really. We sort of have an arrangement when I have a layover.” The woman studied her and the unusually quiet Amelia. “Cute kid. And I’m sure Kevin thinks so, too, but I wouldn’t get too comfortable playing house. That cowboy likes to keep things simple. No responsibility and that sort of thing.”