Big-Hearted Cowboy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  The light had faded from the sky, leaving the bedroom in darkness. Millie lay on her back, naked and gasping. Orgasm number three.

  When Jake had recovered from the first round in this bed, he’d disposed of the condom and stripped off his clothes. She’d ditched her shirt and bra. They’d fooled around, exchanging teasing caresses and sexy talk until they’d worked themselves into a lather. And made love again.

  Jake reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “It’s because I haven’t seen you all day. If I hadn’t gone to Great Falls, then—”

  “We would have had a sexy lunch break?”

  “The thought had occurred to me. But today it wasn’t possible. Tomorrow, on the other hand…”

  “What if it makes it tough to go back to work?”

  “I’ll take that risk.” He squeezed her hand. “But I’m only speaking for myself.”

  “What about lunch? I’m not sure we have time for both eating and making love.”

  “PB and J. That takes no time at all.”

  “Wait.” She propped herself on her elbow to look in his direction, even though he was in shadows. “I’ve heard you say PB and J is not a sufficient lunch.”

  “It’s not if you eat it all the time, but—”

  “You’ll cut corners for great sex?”

  “Damn straight.” The mattress shifted as he rolled to his side, facing her. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, but I never thought I’d hear you say it.”

  “When I made that statement, I didn’t have enough information.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I hadn’t made love to you. You’re a game-changer.”

  “Thank you.” Global statement, there. How did she change the game, exactly? Did she want to ask that question tonight when she was flushed and happy from three lovely orgasms? No.

  She’d ask something easy, instead. “What delay did you run into this afternoon?”

  He sighed. “Got pulled over.”

  “Why?”

  “Speeding.”

  “But you don’t speed.”

  “I did this time. It was a legitimate traffic stop. I was more than twenty miles over.”

  “Jake! That’s not like you.”

  “It was today.”

  Something in his voice clued her in. “Was it me? You were rushing to get back because of me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But—”

  “Oh, dear.” She scooted closer and stroked his cheek. “Let me share the cost of the ticket.”

  “No ticket. She let me off with a warning.”

  Millie laughed. “Oh, she did, did she? What did you say?”

  “That I was eager to get home. She asked about kids, and I said no, that I had a girlfriend.”

  His use of home touched her. “She must be a romantic. I’m glad you didn’t get a ticket, but if you had, I would have shared the cost.”

  “No way.”

  “It’s only fair. You were speeding because of me.” A remarkable event. He was a steady driver. She’d ridden with him enough to know.

  “My mistake, my responsibility.” Underneath the casual statement lay a hint of steel.

  But she had a point to make. “Speeding is out of character for you. If we hadn’t set up this new arrangement and had sex last night, you wouldn’t have had a lead foot on your way—”

  “But I didn’t get a ticket, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “But you could have if a different trooper had come along. And I would feel partially respons—”

  “Nope, doesn’t work that way.” He released her hand and sat up.

  She sat up, too. “I only think that—”

  “I know what you think. I disagree. I need to start dinner.” He left the bed, pulled on his clothes and walked out of the room.

  Great. Twenty-four hours into the experiment and they had another issue. But they had plenty of time before the workday would separate them again.

  She wouldn’t look for sex to solve the problem, though. She was with Kate on that. A roll in the hay wasn’t the answer.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jake took the pork chops, a few small potatoes and an onion out of the fridge. His heart wasn’t in it, but this was what he’d planned for dinner, so might as well fix the meal.

  And so it began. He’d allowed himself to get irritated with Millie and then he’d stomped out of the room. Before long he’d be yelling at her the way his father had yelled at his mother.

  After buttoning his shirt, he sliced the potatoes and onions, set two heavy frying pans on the stove, put a chunk of butter in each and turned on the heat.

  Why couldn’t Millie understand that his driving behavior was his business? He’d made the mistake, not her. If he couldn’t concentrate because he was focused on making love to her, that was his problem.

  The pork chops were sizzling and the country-style potatoes and onion were sautéing when she walked in wearing the fluffy white robe that looked innocent and was sexier than hell.

  “Smells great.” Her smile was a little off-center.

  He gave her credit for smiling at all. She was terrific that way, a bright spirit shining light on everyone around her.

  He checked the food on the stove and turned to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left so abruptly.”

  “I understand. I bruised your ego.”

  “You bruised my—no! This isn’t about my ego.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “Millie, it’s not. It’s about me taking responsibility for my actions.”

  She gazed at him. “Actions that are impacted by my actions. We’re in this together, at least I’d like to think we are. Unless you’re determined to be the Lone Ranger.”

  His stomach pitched. “I don’t want to be.”

  “Good, because we’ve shared some intense body contact, buster, the kind that leaves a major impression on a person’s psyche. Maybe you can shove that to the back of your mind, but I can’t.”

  He took a deep breath. “I can’t, either.”

  “At least we’re on the same page regarding the sexy times.” The topic seemed to stick in her throat. She cleared it. “But living together for a week, or a week minus a day, to be precise, requires sharing the load in other areas besides the bedroom.”

  He exhaled. “If that means agreeing that we should split my non-existent traffic ticket, then I’m—”

  “Since that’s a touchy subject, let’s ignore it for now.”

  “Hallelujah.” He turned back to the stove, flipped over the pork chops and stirred the potatoes.

  “But we need to address some other items that go along with sharing a living space. We haven’t talked about laundry.”

  “I don’t want to add to your workload. At the end of the week, I’ll take my towel and washcloth back to the bunkhouse to be washed and returned.”

  “And that is exactly what I’m talking about. What did you do with your clothes from yesterday? They weren’t on top of the dresser when I went back in the room later.”

  “I’m having them framed.” He ducked his head so she wouldn’t see his grin.

  “Jake.”

  He kept his back to her and shrugged. “I’m a sentimental guy. Last night was special. It was either bronzed or framed, and framed is cheaper.”

  A tiny snort of laughter. Good sign.

  He laid it on thicker. “It’ll look really cool when it’s done. I thought about asking for your green lounge outfit to add in there, but I was hoping you might wear it again sometime this week so I ditched that idea.”

  “Clearly you don’t want to talk about laundry.”

  “I do not. The chops and potatoes are almost done. If you’d be willing to get out the salad fixings, I’ll put that together.”

  “How about letting me put it together?”

  He’d rather have her make the salad than do his laundry, which is where that convo was likely headed. “That would be great.”

  She rummaged in the
refrigerator. “So about this traffic stop.”

  “Millie.”

  “I won’t bring up the touchy part. I’m just curious how it went. I haven’t been pulled over in years. Did you have to get out?”

  “No. She might have asked me to if she’d smelled alcohol or suspected I was impaired in some way. She asked about medications and whether I’d been on my phone. It was in the console where it always is. Still in there, come to think of it.”

  “Right! We left in a hurry.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Best greeting I’ve ever had.” He glanced over his shoulder to where she was busily tearing up lettuce.

  She looked up and met his gaze. “I was so glad to see you.”

  “Same here.” The warmth in her eyes filled his chest with sunshine. A few minutes ago he’d pushed her to the point she’d questioned whether they were in this together. What was wrong with him?

  “Don’t forget the chops.”

  “Thanks.” He rescued them just in time. Another few seconds and they’d begin to char. He was responsible for the stovetop activity and yet she’d had to remind him of it.

  Speeding, burning food… what next? He’d better get his act together. He’d never been this distractible. Moving the pans off the burners, he took out a couple of plates and began dishing the food. “How’s the salad coming?”

  “Almost done. Want some cider with this?”

  “Sure. Is the table still set up in the living room?”

  “It is, but I didn’t light candles or make a fire. I had a feeling we’d head straight for the bedroom and maybe stay a while.”

  “Good thinking. Let’s just eat in here.” He brought the plates over to the table, chose the one with the best-looking chop for her and set it in her usual place.

  “Just like old times.” She set the bowl of salad on the table and put the tongs inside.

  “Not a single thing about this arrangement is like old times.”

  “Yes, it is. We’ll sit in the chairs we always take.” She gestured to the salad. “Last night you made your own dressing, but if you don’t want to take the time, I have a bottle of balsamic vinaigrette in the fridge.”

  “Let’s do that.” He pulled out her chair. “I’ll get the dressing and the cider.”

  “Okay.” She tightened the sash on her robe before sliding onto the chair.

  “Don’t cinch it up on my account.”

  “Habit.”

  “I know how to break it.”

  She laughed. “How?”

  “Ditch the sash.” As he scooted her in, the lapels of her bathrobe shifted, giving him a view of her silky breast. He stepped back and took a deep breath. “Then again, you’d have to spend all your time fending me off.”

  “You’d get used to seeing me half-naked. It would become old hat.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” He took two ciders and the dressing out of the fridge and brought them to the table. “I expected to be less susceptible by now.” Twisting off the cap of one bottle, he set it by her place. “If anything, I’m more of a crazed maniac than ever.”

  “A crazed maniac?” She glanced up at him.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Leaning down, he dropped a quick kiss on her full mouth before taking his seat. “I want you twenty-four-seven.”

  “You don’t know that yet.”

  “Yeah, I do. Since I’m getting more obsessed instead of less, twenty-four-seven is a foregone conclusion.” He lifted his bottle of cider in her direction. “To the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”

  She tapped her bottle to his. “To the sexiest man I’ve ever known.” She started to take a sip when a phone chimed from the counter. “That’s mine.”

  “Definitely, since mine’s in the truck.”

  “It’s Kate’s ring. I’d better get it.”

  “Sure.”

  She left her chair and the movement loosened her tie. Winking at him, she loosened it a little more before crossing to the counter and picking up her phone. “Hi, Kate. What’s up?”

  He pointed to his crotch.

  Her eyes sparkled as she untied the sash completely and her robe opened a few tantalizing inches. “Everything’s just dandy here. Why?”

  He began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “We know it’s open. We just haven’t gone back out to close it.” Her gaze traveled over his exposed pecs and she licked her lips. “No, that’s okay. Thanks, but we’ll get it.” Propping the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she pulled back the robe to taunt him with a full frontal.

  He stood. If she was going to give him an open invitation, he’d take it. But he’d left the bedroom in a huff. As he walked out of the kitchen, she started talking about Nick’s favorite cookies and something about CJ eating them, too.

  When he came back with the necessary item in his pocket, she glanced at him. “CJ’s going to have to start working out.”

  Jake took the condom from his pocket and walked slowly toward her.

  Her eyes widened. “Anyway, thanks for mentioning the truck door.”

  He unfastened his jeans, released his needy cock and dressed it up for the occasion.

  “Yep. Sure. I, um, need to go. Talk to you later.” She ended the call and stared at him. “In the kitchen?” Her breasts quivered as her breathing sped up.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took her phone and laid it out of reach. Circling her waist with both hands, he lifted her to the counter and nudged her thighs apart. “In the kitchen. Gonna tell me no?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to do it in the kitchen.”

  “Then this is your lucky day.” And mine. Sliding his arms under her thighs, he locked his hands behind her tush and pulled her to the edge of the counter. Perfect height. He slipped right in. All the way. Ahh.

  She drew in a breath and gripped his shoulders. “Dinner…”

  “Will get cold.” He drew back and thrust forward again. Became lost in her green eyes. “Don’t care.”

  “Me, either.”

  Holding her gaze, he loved her for all he was worth, because she’d always wanted to do it in the kitchen. He could give her that.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  One more room transformed. Millie would never look at her bedroom in the same way, or the living room. Add the kitchen to the list of places where she’d made love to Jake, and on the counter, no less. He had a talent for creating indelible memories.

  After promising he’d do something to salvage their dinner when he came back, he’d gone outside to close the truck door and fetch his phone. She stuck their drinks in the fridge, although drinking warm cider was a small price to pay for another epic orgasm compliments of her resident cowboy.

  She picked up the salad bowl, thinking she’d refrigerate that, too, when he came through the front door.

  “That truck desperately needs a wash,” he said as he walked into the kitchen. “I’m thinking tomorrow.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “Ah, thanks anyway. I’ll do it.”

  She smiled. “Don’t forget, I’m a cleaning professional.”

  “And you have to clean all the time. I can’t ask you to do even more of it.”

  “Sure you can. It’d be fun.”

  He laughed. “I seriously doubt it. Anyway, I brought you this.” He handed a bag to her with a flourish. “I’ve been using yours.”

  She opened the bag. “Oh, my goodness! This will last me months. Thank you.” Glancing up, she tried to read his expression. One bottle of each would have been a nice gesture. Why so many? “You’re welcome to use mine, though. You didn’t have to replace it, let alone get me all this.”

  “It’s good stuff. I like how it makes my scalp feel. I’ve never used conditioner, but I might start, since your hair is always so shiny.”

  “Then you could take some of this back to the bunkhouse when you…” His frown made her pause. They hadn’t talked about so many things, and this was another one. The biggest one. “We haven’t discussed what happens after Su
nday.” She put the bag on one of the kitchen chairs. “Maybe we should.”

  His chest heaved. “Don’t see how we can. This is only my second night. Five to go.”

  “It seems like you’ve been here longer.”

  He rested his hands on her shoulders and his gaze searched hers. “Because I’ve been a pain in the ass?”

  “You know you haven’t.”

  “Appreciate that.” He took a deep breath. “And I get what you mean about the time span. It feels to me like I’ve been here longer than twenty-four hours. There’s so much to absorb.”

  “Like what?”

  “Living in a house again. Making love to you. It’s like I stepped into an alternate reality.”

  She cupped his face in both hands. “Disorienting?”

  “Yeah.” He drew her close. “But making love to you steadies me.”

  “Glad to help.”

  “That’s not the only reason I like it, but it’s one of the reasons. When I’m holding you, I know what to do.”

  She snuggled close and slid her arms around his neck. “Uh-huh.”

  “That said, we need a timeout to refuel.”

  “FYI, I’d be fine with eating our dinner cold.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t.” He gave her a sweet kiss and let her go. “And I’m going to remedy the situation.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Keep me company.”

  “Jake, I want to help. You work with CJ. Work with me.”

  He gazed at her in confusion. “But I want you to relax and let me—”

  “CJ enjoys sharing the job with you. I’d enjoy it, too.”

  “I never thought of it that way.” He surveyed the food on the table. “Okay, while I make a sauce, you can cut the meat off the bone, dice it and put it in one of the pans on the stove. Doesn’t matter which.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Twenty minutes later she sat down to a hot meal of pork and potato hash, salad and the cider she’d returned to the table. “You have skills, cowboy.” She dug her fork into the fragrant hash.

  He grinned. “Thanks.”

  She chewed and swallowed. “This is fabulous.” She pointed her fork at her plate. “I was starving.”