Like A Cowboy (Wild At Heart Cowboys Book 1)

by Charlene Bright

  Not sure what to say, Noah asked, “Do you want to talk about it? I’ll buy you a cup of coffee next door, if you need an ear.” He didn’t know if he would be any good with advice, since he couldn’t seem to figure out how to take care of his own problems, but it was polite to ask and offer to listen, anyway.

  “I wouldn’t know what to say,” she told him softly, the flush in her cheeks going from bright red to almost purple. Whatever it was that bothered her, she found embarrassing, and though he forced himself not to express it, Noah found it amusing.

  “I’m a good listener. The strong and silent type, my mama says,” he joked, trying to ease her out of her shy demeanor. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen before, and he almost liked that she had a bit of a vulnerable side. It made her more human to discover she wasn’t indestructible.

  She bit her lip and looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t really want to talk about it in public. I’m enough of a mess as it is.” She glanced at the locked door behind her. “But if you really want to try to help, we can talk inside.”

  The studio seemed to be a good place for them, when no one else was around. Maybe he’d be able to build a level of trust between them that wouldn’t have her ready to ignore his existence in the future. For some reason beyond his painting, Noah felt that was important. He couldn’t stand the thought of Zoe not wanting him around, and while he couldn’t place his finger on why, the idea of not seeing her or talking to her anymore gave him a stomachache. “Lead the way,” he told her.

  She unlocked the door again and turned some of the lights back on. The room was still dim, but it was comforting not to have fluorescents blaring at them as they went toward her desk. This time, Noah grabbed his own chair and placed it beside the desk, sitting forward in it with his elbows on his knees. He gave her an eager expression, letting her know he was all ears.

  She laughed nervously and put her fisted hands in front of her mouth, as if she was trying to find a way to express herself that wouldn’t completely humiliate her. “Wow, I don’t even know where to start.” Now, she chewed the nails of one hand and tapped the others on the desk. Noah pressed his lips together in his best effort not to smile. It was adorable to watch her squirm, and he just wished she would hurry up and tell him what this was all about.

  At long last she said, “I don’t get emotional, outside of art. And I don’t get involved with my students, even as friends. At least, I didn’t in Cheyenne. But in the city, everyone’s in a hurry, and no one is interested in getting to know anyone else unless they have ulterior motives. So it was easy to stay distant. But here, everyone is close and friendly and wants to include you, so it’s easy to build friendships with people you wouldn’t normally be friends with. Oh, I’m rambling.”

  “You’re fine,” Noah assured her. “Believe it or not, I’m with you. I don’t know where you’re going, but take your time and get there, even if you have to take the long, winding path through the woods.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Country analogies never cease to amaze me.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay, then. Where was I? Oh, so I’m making friends, and I’m not used to making friends like this. That includes your friendship. You know, in Cheyenne, you would have been that guy.”

  He scowled. “What do you mean?”

  Zoe blushed again. “You know, the guy who takes the class because he wants to get in my pants. Not the sensitive, caring guy who loves his mother enough to do something that sounds absolutely boring to him. And really not the guy who turns out to have more talent in his pinkie than most people have in their whole bodies. And as much as I might have at least admired the sexy guy in the front row back home, I would have kept my distance to avoid the cat-and-mouse game. And I certainly wouldn’t have been ready to look past all my morals and vows to stay away from dating and love and whatnot just because he was easy to talk to.”

  Now, Noah had to admit he was a bit lost. He leaned back in his chair with a scowl, trying to understand why this sounded like some sort of confession and what Zoe had to be embarrassed about. He could only come to one conclusion, and he wasn’t egocentric enough to believe it.

  Sitting forward again, he smiled and told Zoe, “Well, I assure you, I’m not some sweet-talking guy trying to get into your pants. So, if you’re embarrassed for misjudging me, don’t be. I’m an open book, no mystery or ulterior motives, and you probably know me as well as anyone else, except maybe my mother. So, you shouldn’t worry about being friendly. I won’t take it the wrong way.”

  She didn’t look happy, though, and Noah was frustrated. Had he misunderstood entirely? She covered her face with her hands so her voice was muffled when she spoke. “It’s not that, Noah. It’s that I’ve been silly and let myself get all worked up because I finally met someone who is every bit as passionate as I am. And I had a momentary lapse in judgment.” He watched her in silence, and she peered at him between her fingers, the one eye showing just how mortified she was as she said, “I have a little crush, Noah, and I’m just trying to remind myself that I’m not supposed to be interested in anyone. And that you aren’t at all interested in me.”

  That was not what he’d expected to hear, and the meaning slammed into his chest with the force of an angry horse’s kick, knocking the wind out of him. If he was completely honest with himself, he was having the same damn problem, which was the only reason he’d bothered to apologize in the first place. That’s what had been bugging him, he knew. There had never been a girl or a woman for whom he would have gone to such lengths to keep her hanging around, no matter what he needed from her professionally. He’d angered or offended plenty of them and never cared in the least if they failed to recognize his existence from that point forward.

  But the thoughts he’d had about Zoe and her body, her passion, and those full lips that gave such a sincere smile, all added up to one thing. He was just as taken with her as she claimed to be with him. And they were both too determined to stick to their guns for either of them to do anything about it.

  But as he sat there, looking at her with that mass of hair hanging loose around her, he wanted desperately to run his fingers through it and to taste those pouty lips of hers. It overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t help himself. What would it hurt to just test the water one time?

  Before he could stop himself, Noah was on his feet, and he took Zoe by the shoulders, drawing her out of the chair. He peeled her hands from her face, and as she looked at him with frightened, wide eyes, he brought his mouth down on hers.

  12

  Zoe was taken by such surprise she was breathless and frozen, and it took a moment to process that Noah was kissing her. The moment it hit her, she relaxed, letting herself lean into him and parting her lips to taste him. He tasted better than she’d imagined, like fresh desert air, salt, and dark chocolate combined, and she sighed into his mouth.

  As she did, he released his hold on her wrists and brought his hands up to her face, pressing his palms to her cheeks and tilting her head back so he could reach deeper. Then, he threaded his fingers into her hair, and her skin tingled everywhere he touched her. In response, she lifted her arms and rested her hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath and the throbbing of his heart as its pace quickened. And in moments, her own heartbeat synced with his, fluttering and pumping hard in the same rhythm.

  She’d never felt so connected to someone, and for a moment that seemed like eternity, Zoe imagined that she had completely melded with another human being, their thoughts and emotions and physical responses shared. And Noah was an amazing kisser, gently prodding and tenderly coaxing until she wanted to push for something harder, more desperate.

  It was that desire lighting a fire in her belly that brought her out of her trance and back to reality. What were they doing? She wanted to shove him away, but instead, she gently broke the kiss, knowing too much of a kneejerk reaction would anger him and leave her cold and witless. Noah withdrew his hands from her hair but didn’t let her go, in
stead resting them on her upper arms with the lightest grip.

  She stared up at him, looking into those soulful eyes and trying to read his intentions. He’d just told her that he wasn’t the typical player, wasn’t the phony guy who feigned interest in something just to find his way into someone’s bed. Yet, he hadn’t been interested in art when he’d first walked into her studio. And at the Crosbys’, he’d been strangely consumed by the same aversion to romance that she had. Was all of this a ploy to get her to change her mind, at least long enough for him to get what he wanted?

  Suspicious now, Zoe withdrew from him, putting some space between them. “Why did you do that?”

  He looked sincerely confused, though she wouldn’t put it past him to have practiced that look. He was a brilliant artist. He could be just as brilliant an actor. He shook his head and seemed flustered. “I’m not sure. I mean, I wanted to. But I wasn’t…I didn’t mean anything by it.” He hung his head. “I’m making a big mess of this. Zoe, I’m really attracted to you, in ways I can’t comprehend. But I’m not trying to swoop in and start anything. I know you’re as against that as I am, and I respect that. I respect you.”

  She wanted to give him a good tongue lashing, but she couldn’t entirely blame him. After all, she’d been the one to admit that she was smitten with him, and even if he’d initiated the kiss, she’d answered it with her own passion and desire. It was a mutual lapse in judgment, apparently, and though a part of her wanted to take it back, there was a larger part of it that still felt the thrill and wanted to cling to that feeling for a very long time.

  “It’s alright,” she mumbled, covering her face with embarrassment once again. “I all but asked for it.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to look up and meet his eyes, reaching deep to find her strength. “That’s the problem with emotions and attraction. We can sit here and explain to ourselves all day long why it’s a bad idea to get involved with people, but emotion defies logic, so it’s a constant battle to assure you don’t make a mistake. And since humans aren’t perfect, we fail from time to time.” She said it as much for her own benefit as for his, and it helped calm her and renew her resolve.

  He fidgeted, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and finally, Noah just rested them on his hips. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have mattered if you stood here and demanded it. I know what you want, and I won’t let my instincts get in the way of my logic again.”

  She nodded. “I’ll work on that, too.” She laughed as some of the nervous tension eased. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, maybe we could go get that cup of coffee. Sort of a peace offering that solidifies our friendship.”

  He hesitated, and Zoe knew she shouldn’t have taken it that far. She started to retract the offer and bow out, but he said, “Sure. Still my treat.” She followed him out of the studio, locking the door again, and down two doors to the little coffee shop. For some reason, she felt awkward now, and she stuttered over an order she’d made at least five days a week for the last two or three years. She also nearly insisted on paying for her own drink, but Noah was too fast and passed the cash to the barista before she could even get her purse unzipped.

  With their drinks, they went to a table by the window, and Zoe clasped her hands around the warm cup, letting it infuse her like a source of strength. She needed it, sitting across from Noah in a setting like this. Friends or not, this still felt far too much like a date. If she was anyone else and less jaded about love, she would have been absolutely giddy to be out with someone like Noah. He turned heads with his looks and friendly manner, and she knew from experience that he could hold intellectual conversation, enjoy humor, and listen with interest even better than he could express himself, which he also did with poise and grace.

  Thinking about that and the way the love of art seemed to be growing on him, Zoe could forgive herself for having a small crush on him. And now that she’d said it out loud, it didn’t seem like an elementary school thing. It was normal. She’d seen it happen to plenty of women who got over their infatuations quickly. A week, a month. Even if it lasted longer, it eventually went away, especially if they found someone they truly cared about.

  But then, Zoe didn’t have that option. She’d have to kick what amounted to a growing addiction on her own. It was almost depressing to think about, and she put the topic at the back of her mind, not wanting to deal with it when she had good company for at least a few minutes.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked quietly, breaking the silence. “I know we just had a really difficult moment, but I hope we can move past it. I’d like to think of you as a friend, Zoe.”

  And I’d like to think of you naked in my bed, came that antagonizing voice in the back of her head that was silent at least 95% of the time and only spoke up at the most inopportune moments. Ignoring it, she smiled at him and said, “I would consider you a friend. And a pretty good one. It’s hard to find people so easy to get along with, especially when you have your nose buried in paint most of the time.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Or when you’re antisocial because most people are just annoying, and you spend more time alone on sixty acres of land, talking to horses and dogs than to people.”

  Zoe laughed. “I didn’t know you had dogs.”

  “Yeah, two bloodhounds. They come from good stock. I’ve had them both since they were eight weeks old and barely off their mother’s milk. That was four years ago. They’re good dogs, even if they tend to be a little needy sometimes.”

  “Boys or girls?” This was the type of innocent conversation that she could handle. Plus, she loved dogs and wished she could have one in her apartment. But then, she’d never had much time for a pet anyway.

  “Boys. Velvet and Suede.” He pulled out his phone and showed her a picture, like a proud parent.

  And like the sentimental little girl, she oohed and awed over them. “They are absolutely beautiful. Someday, I’ll have time for a dog. Right now, I don’t even have the time or motivation to take care of a cat.”

  “Like I said, they’re good dogs. They run around on the land during the day, tease and taunt the horses from time to time. They sleep on my bed, which can get irritating at times. But at least they don’t move around a lot at night. I let them out to run and hunt if they want right before we turn in.”

  He was a good man, and Zoe knew he had to be excellent with all animals, just from the way he glowed when he talked about those dogs or looked swollen with pride when he mentioned working with horses. “The way you train horses is another form of art,” she said absently, staring out the window. “It takes a certain finesse to get it right, and everyone around here says you’re the best.”

  “They just say that so I don’t raise the prices too much. The nearest ranch other than mine where someone can board a horse, have it trained, or even get the beast broken is a hundred miles away. And I’ve got better rates because I’m not commercial. I’ll eventually hire some help, but I don’t want a hundred stables full of animals I can’t give personal attention. That’s not the way to train a horse.”

  “That’s why I’ve always kept my classes small. You can’t be as efficient if you’re trying to give a quick overview and a couple of pointers to forty people as you can digging deep into someone’s psyche and perspective in a class of ten or less.” She had to stop doing that. Seeking out common ground wasn’t going to help her get past thinking about Noah’s lips, or the taste of his tongue, or the way his body felt pressed against hers.

  Denial. That was what she needed. She should focus on everything that was different between them, and then she’d find a way to negate these niggling obsessive thoughts. Denial was just as much of an art as anything else. If you painted the right picture, you could convince yourself that the sky was green and had never been blue.

  The problem was, it was always much easier to paint images of love and happiness. Anything that was fantasy lent itself to being the perfect subject
for a work of art. And Zoe had the feeling it might take several tries to turn heart and arrows into vicious demons.

  13

  Noah couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at the canvas in front of him. With a few brush strokes of a shade he’d blended a couple of times to get the right effect, his father’s face had already begun to take shape. Of course, he had a long way to go. It was just a base, the skull without flesh, but he could already see where the nose would protrude and the eyes would sink in, and he could imagine the shadows that played over it to put life into the image.

  “I thought it would take so much more to start to see something real here,” he said in awe.

  Zoe rose from her stool and came over to look, smiling instantly. “No, it really starts to come together fast when you’ve got the right idea and good technique. For someone who hasn’t trained and learned a lot about playing with perspective and lighting, you did a good job here, just putting the first layer down. It’s going to make everything from this point forward even simpler.”

  He couldn’t see how any of this was going to be simple. It was one thing to picture what would flesh out the portrait, but to actually make it happen was something else entirely. “So, what do I go for next?”

  “That depends,” she told him, tapping her finger on her chin. It left a little gray mark from a dot of paint she had on her fingertip, and Noah found it endearing. But he shoved the thought aside instantly. He’d made a promise, as much to himself as to Zoe, and he was going to stand by it. His instinct was to grab her and pull her into his lap, wipe the spot of color away, and then taste her again. The cinnamon and floral blend on her tongue had stuck with him from last night, and it had given him another fitful night’s sleep, his thoughts continuing to betray him with images so intimate it made his groin tight, and he couldn’t get comfortable.

  But he’d promised not to make another move, and he would hold to that now. “That depends,” she said thoughtfully. “When I look between your painting and the picture, the first thing I see is the slight cleft in your father’s chin, so that’s what I’d work on. But it depends on what you see most prominently that tells you the order you should use.”