by Tessa Layne
His hands came to her hips, pulling her close. “What do you want, Lydia?” he asked, voice rough.
“You,” she answered simply. God’s truth. She wanted to take her fill. Please herself for once.
“Why?”
“Why not? It’s a wedding. We’re here… I like how you kiss,” she answered boldly, pulse pounding. The scandalous nature of what she was proposing made her skin tingle all over. She liked this newer, wilder self and tipped her chin to receive his kiss. His tongue slid against hers, teasing and seductive, but his hands stayed firmly planted on her hips. Dropping her arm, she rucked up her dress on one side, exposing her thigh, inviting him to touch her.
Colton let out a strangled groan. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Quite the contrary.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”
Taking a step back, she whisked off her dress, thankful she’d chosen a stretchy knit material with no buttons, no clasps to catch or tear. “I don’t want you to be a gentleman, Colt.”
His face went taut. All angles and planes in the dim light. She stood before him, heart pounding erratically, waiting for him to move. Hope flickered, then faltered as the moment stretched between them. When he finally moved, it was to caress her with the barest graze of skin on skin. The back of a finger drawn down from her collarbone over the swell of her breast. Her nipples strained against the silk of her bra, aching to be touched, pinched. “Perfection.” His voice dropped, coming out rough and hard, like gravel.
He stood so close, she could feel the heat radiating off him, warming her skin against the cool night air. Colt continued a feather-light perusal down her torso, fingers gliding just inside her panties. Her breath caught, and she held herself still, nerve endings vibrating with anticipation of his next move. His fingers swept through her slick swollen folds, and she bit her lip to keep from crying at the ecstasy of it.
Colt lowered his head to her neck, breath skating in heated whorls across her skin. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he murmured.
If it was half as much as she wanted him, then she had every idea.
“How gorgeous you are in the moonlight.” He slipped his fingers from her, and gripped her hip as he peppered her collarbone with hot kisses. “But we can’t do this.”
His day’s growth scraped her flesh like fine sandpaper, sending tongues of fire rippling down her limbs. She dropped her head back, giving him access to her neck. “Yessss,” she hissed on a breath.
In the recesses of her brain, his words registered. “No.”
She lifted her head, confused. “Wait. What do you mean?” Her heart yo-yoed sickeningly.
Colt groaned and pressed his mouth to her temple. Then he stepped back, hands clasping her bare shoulders, voice laced with regret. “You deserve more than a fifteen-minute fuck in the tack room.”
Mortification incinerated her insides. At least the darkness hid her flaming cheeks. “But I… you…” What had she done? Hot tears pricked her eyes. Was she so pathetic that even the town bad boy would reject her? That would be a resounding yes. Never had she wished more fervently for the earth to swallow her up. Or a flying horse to spirit her away. She clenched her stomach, fighting to keep the quiver from her voice. She would not let Colton see her humiliation. “I see.” By a miracle, her voice stayed even. She swallowed as she bent for her dress, and turned her back as she slipped it over her head.
“I’m sorry.”
Colt sounded like he wanted to say more, but really, what else was there to say when he’d already rejected her? Further explanation would only draw out the discomfort for both of them. Best to make a quick getaway and preserve what little dignity she had left. Smoothing her skirt and rolling her shoulders, she turned. His face didn’t show a shred of emotion, but his sheer physical presence overwhelmed her, his body tense and hard. He’d always been good looking, but now? The utter masculinity of him was breathtaking, even in her humiliation. “No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I-I misread… I-I’ll see you around.” She flashed him an empty smile and brushed past him before he could hear the catch in her throat.
“Lyds, wait,” he called after her.
Shaking her head, she kept moving, slipping out the door. The cold air pricked her lungs as she skirted the bonfire and blindly followed the fence line between the Kincaid and Grace properties, until she reached the old gate one of the families had constructed decades ago. Once the gate clicked shut behind her, she let the tears come. She’d never be able to show her face around the Kincaids again.
CHAPTER 5
Holy shit. Colt ran a hand through his hair and stared up at the wooden slats comprising the ceiling in the tack room, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. How long had it been since they’d snuck into the barn? Fifteen-minutes? Maybe? And in that short span of time, she’d managed to shove his whole world off its axis.
She must have been intoxicated.
It was the only explanation for why she’d come onto him like that. Not that he’d minded. Hell, if it had been any other woman, his pants would have been down around his ankles in a hot second. But this was Lydia. The embodiment of goodness. Everything he wasn’t. His cock jerked against his jeans chastising him for his restraint. “Yeah, yeah. I’m an idiot.” He shook his head and let out a ragged sigh.
As long as he lived, he’d never forget the way her creamy skin glowed in the moonlight. And how slick her pussy had been. For him. And fuck, her kisses. He’d never been more surprised, or turned on. But he was pretty sure if word got out, that there’d be a long line of folks lined up to take their shot. It wouldn’t matter to them in the least that she’d been the one to come onto him. All they’d see was that the town’s biggest disappointment had tapped the good girl everyone loved and respected.
Colt puffed his cheeks and let out another slow breath, trying to pull his galloping heart back to a walk. He smiled bitterly into the dark. This. This was why he never wasted time being honorable. It sucked. So much easier to live in the moment, screw the consequences, and move on before things got emotional.
He lived by one rule – no regrets.
Okay, yeah, he definitely regretted pushing Lydia away. But he’d regret the consequences of not pushing her away more. He might live for fun, but he wasn’t an idiot. Everyone in town knew why Travis kicked him out ten years ago. And although wild horses couldn’t have dragged the admission from him then, he was mature enough now to see that Travis had done him a favor. Probably saved his life. One of many conversations he and his brother needed to have in the coming days. But not on his wedding day.
Giving the tack room one last look, he turned and made his way back to the bonfire. He scanned the faces halfheartedly. Lydia wouldn’t be among them. Go after her his conscience pricked. Talk to her. Someone put a whiskey in his hand. The party was breaking up, and he made his way back to the house, pulling up a chair to the large table that had been returned to the center of the room. Conversation floated around him as one by one, Travis and Elaine’s closest friends joined them at the table. Colt didn’t feel like joining in. He was more interested in the contents of his glass, but he also wasn’t going to be rude to his brother on his wedding day. As he swirled the ice and amber liquid, his mind kept returning to Lydia. The curve of her hip in the palm of his hand. Her sweet, plump mouth. He was an idiot for letting her go. He was a bigger idiot for wanting more. He was a fucking rodeo champion, for chrissakes. Women slipped their hotel keys and more into his shirt pocket when they congratulated him with a wink and a smile on a good ride. He’d never wanted more, needed more, from any of them.
It irked him that she thought he was easy. Lydia had been the only one to see through his shenanigans, the only one brave enough, or stupid enough as he thought back then, to challenge him to be a better person. A better man. Hell, he’d only been a kid when he left, but he was a better man now. Wasn’t he? He owned a ranch. Had a great career. Discovered he was a smart businessma
n. Okay, so he still might be a little wild where the ladies were concerned, but who could blame him?
Why would Lydia want a quick hookup? That wasn’t her. He puzzled on that as he brought the whiskey to his mouth, letting the burn sharpen his focus. Prairie’s new police chief, Weston Tucker, who Travis had introduced as a former military buddy, was talking. “Have you given anymore thought to Resolution Ranch?”
“What’s this?” Brodie Sinclaire asked. Brodie was a few years older than Colton, but had been just as wild in their youth. He’d been surprised to learn Brodie had been married nearly a year.
“Nothing.” Travis waved a hand. “Just a harebrained idea of Weston’s to get the ranch running again and turn it into a place to help veterans land on their feet.”
“Using animal husbandry, like what Hope does, and working with a counselor I know,” added Weston.
Hope Hansen leaned in. She’d married Ben Sinclaire at the same time last year. “You know,” she said, tapping a finger on the table and glancing over at Ben. “I’ve been thinking along those same lines. Using what I’ve been teaching you with others. Would you be interested in collaborating?”
While not the only single guy in Prairie by a long shot, Colton’s insides twisted with the realization that life in Prairie had continued without him. Yes, he’d walked away without a backward glance, and with the exception of Hope’s brothers, who he’d run into at the NFR’s in Las Vegas a few years back, he hadn’t seen or heard from any of them. Again, his conscience pricked at him. Would things be different, would he be different if he’d tried to re-establish contact once he’d cleaned up his act? Would people see him in a more positive light? Would Lydia see him in a more positive light?
His thoughts flicked back to the conversation at hand. His brother really wanted to start a ranch for veterans? An honorable idea. A good idea. He knew a few rodeo hands who’d served overseas. Solid guys, who struggled. The ones that found a purpose upon returning home seemed to do better. The guys he knew were some of the best horse handlers on the circuit.
Colton stared at the enthusiastic faces surrounding the table. How long had it been since he’d been a part of something bigger than himself? Had he ever? He studied the ice in his glass, focusing on the way it caught the light. An ache pushed against his ribs. He’d been looking out for number one his whole life. Had never lifted a finger around the ranch. Had driven his dad, then later Travis to distraction with his bad grades and substance abuse. “I’d be willing to invest a portion of my earnings,” he offered quietly.
Conversation stopped as everyone turned to stare. He locked gazes with his brother as they engaged in a silent tug-of-war.
Travis shook his head dismissively. “No way. I can’t let you do that.” All eyes swung to Travis, then landed back on him as the silent volley continued. Travis cleared his throat. “I appreciate the offer. But you only just got home. I don’t even know how long you’re staying.”
He didn’t know either. He was on a day to day basis at the moment, at least until the NFRs in a few more weeks. “Silent partner only. I’ll stay out of the way.” Colton countered firmly.
Travis’s expression went from chagrined to doubtful to hopeful when his wife chimed in. “You know I can help with managing the books, among other things.”
Colton’s heart gave a painful squeeze at the way they stared at each other, love on their faces. He shut his eyes against the thickening in his throat. No one, not one person, had ever looked at him that way. With adoration. He pushed aside the momentary longing. He had everything he needed, a roof over his head, money in the bank, fame. There was no place in his life for touchy-feely shit. It only complicated things. He lifted his glass with the others as Weston offered a toast. “To Elaine and Travis, may your love infuse this ranch with new life, and bring second chances to those who need it most.”
Second chances. Is that why he’d returned to Prairie? For a second chance? He wasn’t sure he liked the murky feelings it stirred up. Colton pushed back from the table a little too forcefully as soon as the bride and groom kissed. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”
Travis made a face. “You only just got here.”
“Stay with us,” “We have room,” a chorus of offers sounded.
Heat raced up his spine. This was too much. Everyone was being too nice. He waved them off, flashing a smile. “No need. I booked a place in Manhattan.”
“Jamey’d tan my hide if I didn’t insist you stay at the lodge with us,” Brodie offered. “Manhattan’s too far.”
Colton shook his head. He didn’t feel like making small talk, and he’d had enough swapping stories of the old days to last him a good long while. “Thanks, kindly. But I’ll take a raincheck.”
“You’re coming back tomorrow?” Travis asked, the hopeful look returning to his eyes.
Colton nodded once. “Sure. We’ll talk then.”
CHAPTER 6
As far as Colt was concerned, eleven a.m. was still too early to show up at the ranch. If it were him, he’d be pissed as hell at anyone who dared show their face before two in the afternoon the day after his wedding. But Colt had already enjoyed a hearty breakfast at The Chef in downtown Manhattan and successfully avoided the holiday shoppers lining up at the local Wal-Mart, ready to knock their Christmas lists out before lunch. And he’d managed to avoid not one, but two phone calls from Hal and Harrison Carter. It irked him to no end that they assumed he’d jump every time they called. They might be his biggest sponsor, and while he couldn’t afford to lose them, especially after offering to help Travis with Resolution Ranch, they didn’t own him. He was his own man, and there would be plenty of time at the NFRs to hash out any differences they had over a steak and a few beers.
The drive back to Prairie from Manhattan had been pleasant enough, and the bleached gold grass and leafless trees that peppered the Flint Hills this time of year offered an equally dramatic counterpoint to the high sagebrush flats and dramatic granite cliffs of Northern Colorado.
Wild horses would trample him before he’d admit he was lonely, but casting about with time on his hands left him uneasy and at loose ends. Colt threw his truck into park in the vacant lot behind what used to be Dottie’s Diner and looked around. He didn’t recognize Prairie anymore. The Prairie he’d known, whether he loved it was debatable, was gone. His conscience pricked at him again. He’d been in Texas when he’d gotten word of the tornado that ripped through Prairie. For a dreadful, heart-stopping moment, fear had turned his blood to ice, until he’d seen his brother on national television describing what had happened. But he’d shied away from taking action, figuring he’d be branded as an opportunist for crawling out of the woodwork after being gone so many years. Instead, he’d sent an anonymous check to the foundation.
But seeing his hometown like this? Stirred him. Unsettled him, triggering an unfamiliar ache beneath his sternum. Maybe it was just breakfast. Or maybe it was his conscience telling him he’d been an asshole and he had a lot of making up to do. He could start by taking a walk over to Dottie’s food truck. He admired Dottie’s grit. She might have been way too up in his business when he’d been a rowdy kid, but no one, not even him, had ever dared cross her. And in the end, her big heart had saved him.
Hopping down from the truck, he jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket and headed for Main. No surprise, the line at the food truck stretched halfway to the picnic tables scattered nearby. He scanned the crowd for Lydia, wishing for the umpteenth time he’d figured out a way to get her number. More than anything, he wanted to see her. Make sure she was okay. Maybe take her on a walk. Hell, who was he kidding? He wanted to pick things up where they left off. His balls still ached from last night. He hadn’t even been able to take himself in hand as he’d lain wide awake counting the ceiling tiles. It felt sacrilegious. He might give in if the need became too great, but what he wanted more than anything was to bury himself balls deep in her sweetness and know she meant it. That he was somethi
ng more than a pressure valve being released. Maybe that was asking too much.
Dottie stood at the counter when it was his turn to step up. She gave him an indulgent smile. “We have pumpkin pie and coffee with whipped cream on special today. Can I interest you?”
No one made pie like Dottie. “Of course you can.” He gave her his best smile and jumped in before he lost his nerve. “Know where I can find Lydia today?”
Dottie gave him a hard stare. “Whatever for?”
His stomach traded places with his tonsils. “I… wanted to make sure she got home okay.”
“She did. She was still asleep when I left.”
Dottie must have x-ray vision into his soul. There was no reason for her to make things this hard for him. Unless she’d already firmly placed him in the ‘not for my daughter’ category.
“I… ah… also want to talk to her about a pair of boots.” An angel must have nudged his memory, as the conversations he’d overheard last night about Lydia’s shoemaking popped into his head. “I swear. Just talk.”
“Boots, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right woman. No one makes shoes like my Lydia.” Dottie gave him the stink-eye as she wiped down the narrow countertop. “Talk better be all you have in mind, Colton.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Mrs. Grace.” At least not that he’d admit to her. “Can I give you my number to pass along? In case she’s interested in talking?”
Dottie smirked, but pushed across a piece of scrap paper and a pen. He quickly scrawled his number and pushed it back. “I’ll see she gets this,” she said and handed him his pumpkin pie and a cup of coffee. “On me today,” she smiled down at him. “I always knew you’d get on the right track and make something of yourself if you had the chance. I’m so proud you came home for Travis’s wedding.”