A Cowboy for Keeps

by Laura Drake

  Sawyer leads him past me, and I grab his sleeve, stopping them.

  When he looks up, I kiss him. A sweet, tender kiss, to tell him he’s not alone.

  I straighten, but he doesn’t move, a confused surprise painted on his features. “What did I do to deserve that?”

  “By being who you are.”

  “In that case, I’ll try to do that more often.” He smiles and lets Sawyer tug him away.

  * * *

  Reese

  By the time we’re done with the grand tour of the ranch, in spite of the ATV’s burpy engine, Sawyer is asleep in Lorelei’s lap, her sun hat askew. “I think between the sun and the excitement, we managed to wear her out.” I pull onto the cobbles of the circular drive.

  Lorelei’s love for Sawyer surrounds her like an aura. “Another first in a day of firsts.”

  “I have to admit, I never thought you’d let me put her up on Brandy.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Do you really?”

  Her brows come down and she shifts a bit in her seat. She knows I’m asking about more than a horse. “I’ve trusted you to help with negotiations with my insurance company. I trusted you to bring us here. What more do you want?”

  More than she’s ready to give. But now’s not the time to bring that up. I pull up to the door, shut down the engine, and turn to her. “Trust me to fix you dinner, no questions asked?”

  Her brows relax. “Oh, heck yes. As Momma would say, my stomach’s gnawing on my backbones.”

  I carry Sawyer in, going slow so Lorelei can keep up. I lead her to the great room, where the spectacular sunset is showcased in the two-story windows.

  “Oh wow. I like this room.”

  I try to see the room from her perspective: the prow-window wall, the fieldstone fireplace that stretches to the wood-beamed ceiling, the pool table, the huge bar. “I do too. It’s over-the-top, but at least it’s comfortable.” I lead her to the buttercream leather couch in front of the windows. “You sit here.”

  I pull pillows and Sherpa throws from the back of the couch to make a nest for Sawyer on the wood floor and lay her in it. “This way we won’t have to worry about her rolling off the couch. Can I get you a drink? Wine, maybe?”

  “You know, wine would be really nice.” She sits and props the crutches against the end of the couch. “I’m sorry—”

  “No, you can’t help.”

  She shakes her head. “I really am bad about this, aren’t I?”

  I drop a kiss on her forehead. “You are. But I’ll try to get you used to being spoiled this week.” I head for the bar.

  “I don’t know what to do with myself. How to be…stationary. Useless.”

  “Stationary is not useless. You make the room brighter just sitting in it.” I scan the wine rack behind the bar. “Red or white? Say what you want about Bo, but he always kept a good wine cellar.”

  “Doesn’t matter, except not dry, please. The sweeter the better.”

  “Ah, I have just the thing.” I pull a bottle at the bottom and wipe the dust off. “My mother loved sweet wine, too. Bo put in a few bushes for her, just so she could have elderberry wine.”

  “Wow, homemade?”

  “Yep. We still make a couple of cases a year, though there hasn’t been anyone here to drink it in a long time.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  I pull the cork and wrinkle my nose at the cloying smell. “I’ll take your word for it.” I take down a small stemless globe glass and fill it halfway.

  “Let me guess. You’re a beer man.”

  I open the fridge and grab one. “Lone Star all the way, baby.” I carry the drinks to the couch and sit beside her.

  She’s staring at the baby sleeping on the floor, a sheen in her eyes.

  “What is it, hon?”

  “I’m wondering how and when we should tell Sawyer about her real parents.”

  I catch a breath at the “we.” It could be an unconscious slip, but could it be that she’s picturing me in her life in that future “when”? “I think we should always be talking about them. Then they’ll be real people to her, not just bedtime-story characters.”

  “I have to admit, I already tell her about Patsy, even though I know she doesn’t understand.”

  A pang of guilt hits. What with all the stuff going on, I haven’t thought about Carson in days. I make a note to conjure a bunch of good memories to tell Sawyer. Not made-up, exactly, just…a bit rose-colored. “We’ll do that. We owe it to all three of them.”

  I hold my bottle up to the clouds outside the window. “Here’s to Patsy and Carson. Wherever they are, I hope they’re together, smiling down on the three of us.” I take a long swallow, wishing there really were an “us.” Hoping there can be.

  “Hmmm, this is amazing.” She licks her lips, holds the glass up, and swirls the almost-purple contents. “As rich as summer sunshine.” She sips again.

  “It’s probably pretty potent, too.” But it’s her that’s potent. As her tongue darts across her lips, she mainlines into my blood. My cock leaps to attention, and I have to shift to make room in my Wranglers.

  We sit for a bit, sipping and watching the last of the sun slip below the edge of the world.

  “We haven’t seen anyone but the cowboys since we got here. When do I get to meet your amazing cook, Nora?”

  There’s a heartbeat’s hesitation, when even the dust motes stop dancing at the sound of her name. Old pain is a dull knife. “She’s not here any longer.”

  Her head comes up at my tone, and her eyes darken. “Tell me.”

  “After the accident…” I turn the bottle in my hand, just to have something to focus on. “I couldn’t climb the stairs for weeks. They made up a bed for me on this couch and left me to heal.” I shrug. “To be fair, Bo had a business to run, and Carson had school.

  “Nora cooked my favorites, to get me to eat. She sat with me for hours, telling me stories. I guess she felt sorry for me. It helped take my mind off my…problems.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Not an easy time, even in the best of circumstances.”

  “True. In all those hours, she and I got to be friends. When I could walk, she took me into the kitchen and taught me to cook. Something about the mindless repetition of cutting vegetables and following a recipe calmed my mind.” I pull in a breath. “I owe her a lot.”

  “What happened?”

  “Bo happened. When I healed, he wanted things back the way they’d been, me out working cattle when I wasn’t in school.” I look out at the shadows gathering around the mesquite outside the window. “I said no. We had a terrible fight. He said she’d turned me into a momma’s boy.”

  “Your father said that?”

  I nod. “One day I came home from school and Nora was gone. He wanted to teach me a lesson, so he fired her.”

  “No wonder you speak of your father the way you do.”

  “He was a hard man.”

  She reaches over and takes my hand. “Pardon me for speaking ill of the dead, but he sounds like a real buttwipe.”

  The juvenile word pulls a laugh from me. “He was.”

  She glances around. “But he was obviously a good businessman.”

  “Nah. All this came from oil money. The cattle business didn’t start making money until I took over.” I bend and turn on the lamp beside the couch. The window in front of us becomes a mirror.

  She smiles. “Score one for the college boy.”

  “Did you ever want to go to college, Lorelei?”

  “Me? No. I did okay in school, but I never saw myself as a career woman. I’m happy running the diner.” She nods. “I’m good at it.”

  “Carly is lucky to have you.”

  “Hardly. I’m as common as table salt.”

  I cock my head to see if she’s kidding. She’s not. “Whatever gave you that idea?” She’s so pretty when she blushes.

  “I just d
o what needs to be done. Like millions of people do every day.”

  “No, they don’t. Your sister and my brother went off and rodeoed.”

  She smiles and gets a faraway look in her eye. “Oh, but Patsy, she was special. I wish you could have met her. If she’d stayed home, she’d have been like hitching a thoroughbred to a vegetable cart.”

  “You’re no cart horse.”

  “Maybe not, but I take to the traces better. Patsy couldn’t—it would have broken her spirit.”

  “And you think you’re not special.” I shake my head. “I wish you could see yourself like I see you.” I turn and take her face in my hands. Her eyes flick between mine, as if afraid to hear what I’ll say next. “It hurts me that you don’t see how very special you are. You know your mind and do what’s right, no matter how hard it is or how long it takes. Your heart is bigger and softer than any thoroughbred’s—you give and give more, and when you run out, if someone needs it, you give more. You don’t trust easily, but I’ve seen you with Sawyer and your mother; when you love, it’s all the way. You’re not table salt; you’re salt of the earth, and this country was built by strong women like you. I’d give anything to earn the love of a woman like that.”

  Tears tremble on her bottom lashes, but she lets out a shaky laugh. “You always say the exact wrong thing. How did you suddenly manage to find just the right thing to say?”

  “I don’t know. I’m on unfamiliar ground here.” I bend to kiss her wine-stained lips. I taste the sweetness, but then she opens to me, and I delve deeper, to taste her.

  She gives way beneath me, and soon we’re lying side by side, pressed together in all the places that matter. I put my arm under her head and, with the other, pull her closer. My cock strains, trying to get through clothes to her warmth. I’ve waited so long for this…

  Slow down. The small corner of my brain not mesmerized by her taste, her smell, whispers a warning. She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t trust me all the way yet.

  Oh so slowly, I break the kiss, and she whimpers. I back up until her face comes into focus. Her eyes are sleepy, her face slack with passion.

  “Please.” She grabs the lapels of my shirt and pulls me into another kiss. Her leg comes over mine, and her heel digs into my butt as she grinds against me.

  My turn to groan. Slow. This will not be a generic back-seat hookup. I’m going to make this special for her. Though it may kill me. It’s been a long time. But this woman is going to be worth the waiting. I catch her fingers when they move to the buttons of my shirt and I lock them in mine, pull them to my chest, and try to show her, with my mouth, how much she means to me.

  Then, suddenly, I know exactly what to do. Exactly what she needs. “Will you trust me?”

  She frowns, as if trying to understand the simple words. “If I haven’t made that clear by now—”

  “Shhhh.” I brush a kiss on her lips. “I don’t want you to do anything. I want to do it all.” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.

  “But I want—”

  “And you shall have it. Eventually. Lie back. Relax.” I check to be sure Sawyer is still asleep, then slide my fingers inside Lorelei’s blouse to touch her bra before I unbutton the top button. I smile when I recognize the pink one. I kiss behind her ear, and she shivers. I work my way down, kissing and undoing buttons. She squirms. Thank the gods for front-clasp bras; one twist and her breasts spring free, delicate, ivory, and just right. I take a nipple in my mouth and make love to it.

  “Please.” She pulls my head up to kiss me. “Now.” Her movements are frenzied with want.

  “Not yet.” I say it to calm myself as much as her. My cock is a pulsing steel rod. I move down, worshipping every bit of skin I can reach. I unzip her pants and pull them down her long, slim legs. Her delicate musky scent draws me, and I breathe hot over her mound. She moans, shifting beneath me.

  I spread and taste her, flicking my tongue over her most delicate hollow, and she strains up to meet me. When I touch where I so want to be, she moans and bucks wildly against my mouth in an orgasm that goes on and on.

  I lie down beside her, finger combing her hair and watching her come back to me.

  When her breath and her heartbeat slow, a sexy smile stretches her lips. “My turn.”

  Chapter 19

  Lorelei

  I come awake all at once, aware that I’ve forgotten something. When I open my eyes, it slams back. Reese is in the bed beside me, eyes closed, hair tousled. In sleep he looks younger, innocent. Except for those sexy lips and the morning-beard shadow.

  My heart pumps softly, as if last night eased its need to pound. I feel slack, empty of all the stress, fear, and pain of the past weeks. Good sex can do that to a person.

  Only it’s more than that.

  Last night my guard came down and surety snuck in, burrowing deep into my heart. I can trust this man. I know it like I know my own name, and not only because he’s great in bed. I worked hard, ignoring all the clues the past months, not believing he could want me: an easily overlooked woman, not much more than a waitress. But all that time, I wasn’t looking at the man in front of me; I was looking back. And that’s not fair. Not fair to Reese or me.

  I still can hardly get my head around the fact that a man like this wants me, but I’m done doubting it. It’s like religion. I don’t have to understand all of it to believe. I find I’m ready to have faith.

  “What are you smiling at?” He sounds like I feel, sleepy-sated.

  “Same thing you are, I’ll bet.” I stretch, hearing complaint from every tendon and muscle that got a workout last night. And this morning.

  He reaches for me and I lean into him without hesitation. His arms come around me and he puts his face in my hair and inhales. “God, you smell good in the morning.”

  “You are delirious from lack of sleep.” I kiss him, morning breath and all.

  “Hmmm, you taste good, too.” His palm slides down to cradle my breast.

  I should be shy, a bit embarrassed. We did things last night that I’ve never thought of, outside romance novels. I realize now that my almost-fiancé was deficient in more areas than just honesty. Reese’s cock is a hard rod against my thigh. I reach to slide my fingers up the velvet shaft and he moans, “You better mean that.”

  “Oh, I’m dead serious.”

  I kiss him, deep and languid.

  “Baba!” Sawyer has pulled herself up the bars of her crib and smiles her cheery morning smile at us.

  Baba groans. “Love you, kid, but your timing stinks.”

  I try not to giggle and fail.

  “I’ll change her. But you keep laughing and you get no coffee, woman.”

  He rolls over me to get to the edge of the bed. I can’t resist squeezing that tight butt. “Shutting up now.”

  * * *

  The days are spent in a blur of camaraderie, baby time, and incredible sex. I’m floating on a cloud of forgetfulness and hormones. Overnight, it’s like we’ve stopped focusing on the things that separate us and look instead at each other and appreciate the things we have in common. We exist in a bubble, the three of us. Kind of like…a family.

  Reese takes us to town to the doctor who presided at Reese’s and his brother’s birth and patched them up their whole lives. While he takes out my stitches, he tells stories of the St. James boys. I’m laughing so hard, I don’t notice any pain.

  Carrizo Springs isn’t a whole lot bigger than Unforgiven, but thanks to oil, much more prosperous. They even have their own Walmart. I put up only a token protest when he buys more clothes for Sawyer and me. We need them, and he enjoys it so much I don’t want to seem ungrateful.

  But as the day to go home approaches, my mind returns to my real life. This has been heavenly, but I have to remember that I’ve only borrowed Cinderella’s slippers the past week. The slippers stay here. I go home to reality.

  * * *

  We’re in the kitchen on Thursday afternoon, watching Sawyer scoot around the floor, whe
n Reese turns to me. “What would you think about flying back to Unforgiven tomorrow? It would be faster, and I’m hoping I can set up a meeting at A&M on the way home.”

  “We’ve kept you from business the past week, haven’t we?” With the exception of phone calls and meetings with his cowhands, he’s spent the whole time with us.

  He gives me that soft, sexy smile that’s for me alone. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way. This week has been perfect.”

  But I hear what he isn’t saying: perfection is, by definition, a temporary place. I’d love to get home faster, but small planes aren’t as safe as an airline. What if something happened? I shake my head. “I don’t feel good about taking chances. The past months have shown me that the world is a lot scarier than I wanted to accept.”

  He touches the side of my face, softness in his eyes. “This life doesn’t come with guarantees, hon. You can’t live your life afraid because of the past.”

  His words strike a chord, echoing my thoughts of just a few days before. I shut myself off from men because of what one did in the past. But still…a worm of worry squirms in my chest.

  “After all, Patsy and Carson were killed in a truck, right? You are less likely to die in a plane—”

  Sawyer’s squeal freezes us both for a heartbeat. Then we’re following the sound into the hall. Sawyer is walking, one hand on the wall, two steps from the gold vase full of lilies.

  “Sawyer, stop!”

  She doesn’t. She reaches the stand, trips over the base, loses her balance, and grabs it. It rocks, gyrating, trying to decide.

  I run and launch myself at her, hitting the marble floor with a thump that knocks the wind from me. I roll to cover her as the marble stand and china vase come down.

  Reese grabs the stand, keeping it from hitting me. “Got it!”

  But the vase hits the floor in a shower of shards, water, and lilies. I cover Sawyer’s face with my hands as the splinters explode around us.

  She takes a deep breath and wails, “Maaaaaamaaaaa!”