The Rebel and the Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 2)

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Some of them need to be thrown out,” he admitted.

  He’d never really had a chance to appreciate her body at leisure before—he’d either been crazy with need every time they were naked, or on the verge of slipping into a coma from satisfaction—and he surveyed her slim form, admiring her small but firm little backside and the neat proportions of her body, as she considered his clothes. Her hips were on the boyish side, and her breasts on the small side of average, but she was hands down the sexiest woman he’d ever met and parts of him were already becoming interested in round two just from looking at her.

  “Your clothes smell like sunshine,” she said. “And I wish my jeans were this soft. Ha. I knew there would be something good in here.”

  She pulled out his old letter jacket from when he was on the high school football team, holding it at arm’s length to study it.

  “I always wanted to wear a guy’s letter jacket in high school,” she asked. “What’s the statute of limitations on high school fantasies?”

  “There isn’t one. Put it on, if you like.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  He watched as she slipped her arms into his jacket. It was predictably huge on her, her hands hidden by the too-long sleeves, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. She struck a pose, hand on one hip, the opposite knee bent.

  “Why, sure, Bobby Lee, I would, like, totally love to go to the prom with you,” she said.

  “Uncanny,” he said. “It feels like 2009 all over again.”

  She laughed, then covered her mouth. “Sorry. I forgot we’re on the down low.”

  “More for you than me.”

  “You protecting my reputation, Carmody?” she asked.

  “I’m protecting you from my nosy sister.”

  “That’s very gallant, but I have a foolproof method for deterring nosy siblings—graphic and detailed descriptions of sexual positions. Works every time.”

  Casey laughed. “I bet.”

  She wandered over to his bedside table and lifted the aftershave bottle there, sniffing it. “So this is why you always smell like sandalwood and spice. Nice.”

  She put the aftershave down.

  “Now, the million-dollar question—where does he keep his porn?” she asked, tapping her fingertips together as though she was pondering something of great importance.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of the internet? No one buys porn mags anymore.”

  “So if I check under the mattress, there won’t be a well-worn copy of Playboy or Penthouse circa 2005? No nostalgic pinups of Pamela Anderson hidden away?”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “Porn is very revealing. I want to know what you’re into. What you like.”

  His jacket gaped open as she talked, allowing a rosy pink nipple to peek out and offering him the briefest of glimpses of the silky thatch between her thighs.

  “That’s easy—I like you,” he said. “I like your tight little pussy and your firm tits. And I love the noises you make when you come. Come back to bed.”

  She went still, as though he’d taken her by surprise. Then she stepped toward the bed, arms reaching up to push his jacket off.

  “No, leave it on,” he said. “I’m getting into this high school fantasy thing.”

  “In that case…” She climbed onto the bed and into his lap, the rough wool of his jacket scratchy against his bare skin. “Onto your back, Carmody. It’s my turn to be bossy.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she planned to make him pay for his earlier high-handedness, but he didn’t have a problem in the world with handing over the reins. Not with this woman.

  Lying back, he gave himself over to whatever was going to happen next.

  *

  Eva lay in a pleasant haze, trying to muster the energy to get out of bed and sneak back to the trailer. It was hard to even think about moving when every part of her body felt so languid and satisfied. Plus Casey’s bed smelled nice—the faintest hint of lemony laundry soap with a side note of his aftershave.

  Also, she liked the feel of his warm, strong body against her side. Not because she wanted to have sex with him again—although that was also part of it—but because she’d missed the simple companionship of lying next to someone like this. Such a strange, animal thing, taking comfort from the press of another human body against her own.

  It was one of the few things about Dane that she actually missed.

  Casey stirred beside her, his hand coming to rest on her hip. She turned her head to find him watching her, his green eyes warm as they scanned her face.

  “I’m glad you came tonight,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

  He smiled. “I meant to the bar.”

  “I know. Same answer. I had a great time.”

  “Good to hear.”

  She could tell it pleased him that she’d enjoyed his music, and it made her think about the way he lit up when he was on stage.

  “What’s it like, being on stage with all that attention on you?” she asked.

  “It’s pretty intense, in a good way. To be honest, I’m still kind of getting my head around it. When we first started gigging a year or so ago, we were playing to a handful of bored locals who really didn’t want to listen to our music. But things have been slowly building, and for the past few months, it’s been standing room only when we play at Grey’s.”

  “That’s because you guys are really good. I can’t believe you haven’t been signed to a label yet. Don’t they have talent scouts in Montana?”

  He shook his head, a small frown between his eyebrows.

  “What does that mean?” she said, imitating the movement.

  “I’m not interested in signing to a label,” he said.

  She blinked, a little taken aback. “Why not?”

  “Because the Shots are about making music, not chasing fame and all that other bullshit.”

  Eva gave him her best side-eye. “For real? You don’t want to hear them call your name out at the Grammys? You don’t want a row of golden records hanging in your luxuriously fitted-out mega mansion?”

  “Not really.”

  She rolled over to face him fully. “You don’t want hordes of beautiful women throwing their underwear at you? You don’t want to be a household name?”

  He shrugged. “None of that stuff motivates me. I like playing to a room full of people who are into my music. That’s the limit of my ambition.”

  Eva studied him, not sure if she believed him or not. She’d seen the joy he took in performing tonight, she’d felt the way the audience responded to him. How could he not want more of that?

  “What about you? Do you want to be famous? Is that what your art is about?” he asked, turning the tables.

  “I would never want to be famous just for the sake of it, like a Kardashian or Paris Hilton. I can’t think of anything worse, actually. And it’s definitely not what motivates me to create. But it’s a sad fact of life that it’s much easier to pay the bills when you have a big name. So, I guess that’s my way of saying yes, I want to be famous. But more because it would mean I could stop worrying all the time about keeping a roof over my head than because I want people kissing my ass all the time.”

  “Come on, you’d love a little ass kissing thrown in. Be honest,” he teased.

  “A little bit,” she admitted. “But not to excess. Enough to get me a good table at a restaurant, or tickets to a Broadway show.”

  “So what’s the trajectory after you land the commission this week? What happens next on your journey toward fame and fortune?”

  “You’re very confident on my behalf.”

  “Why not assume the best outcome?”

  It was a novel concept. She rolled onto her back and folded her arms behind her head, letting herself explore the idea a little.

  “First I’d make sure all the major art publications knew what was happening. Then I’d
make sure to document the process with lots of photographs so I could provide them with a good story if I can convince one of them to profile the finished project. Maybe I’d even film some video of me working, put it on my website so people could see it all coming together, share it on Instagram blah, blah. Then I guess I’d have to sit back and wait, see what crops up next.”

  He looked thoughtful. “So you’d just be waiting for someone to reach out to you with another commission?”

  “Until I get some runs on the board, yes. I need to build my name, do all the things I did to grow Dane’s profile, but for myself this time. This stuff doesn’t happen overnight.”

  The challenge would be advocating for herself as confidently as she’d advocated for him. It was always harder to be your own cheerleader than to be pushy on someone else’s behalf.

  “You know, there are hundreds of old grain elevators dotted around Montana. Hell, they’re probably dotted across the country,” Casey said slowly.

  “I stopped counting them on the way here,” she said. “Every town used to have one, but a lot of them are being demolished now that they’re defunct. Which I think is a huge shame—they’re a part of the history of rural America.”

  “Speaking hypothetically, what if you could convince a few towns nearby to follow Marietta’s lead?”

  “You mean, create a sort of art trail?” she said. “Dane and I worked on something like that in outback Australia. There’s a whole region there with something like six or seven murals over one hundred and fifty miles. It’s a huge tourist attraction.”

  “I bet there are plenty of small communities around here that would love a boost in tourist numbers, especially if the risk was low and the reward high,” Casey pointed out.

  Eva stared at him, struck by the simple genius of what he was suggesting: rather than wait for commissions to come to her, she would initiate them and become the driver of the project.

  “If I could get a handful of towns to come to the party so I could create an art trail, I’d supercharge my portfolio,” she said. “It would be huge. I’d get lots of coverage, make lots of noise. And I could approach them with the same idea I’m pitching to the Marietta Chamber of Commerce—a mural capturing the past, present, and future of the local community. I could celebrate local stories, local people. It would be amazing.”

  She could feel herself starting to get excited. She’d need to do a lot of research to get the idea off the ground, and she’d have to be shameless in her approach to local communities with viable grain elevators. But it was doable. Very doable.

  She sat up, her earlier lassitude long gone, her brain ticking over with ideas and strategies.

  “And you know what?” she said, thinking out loud. “Pitching the Marietta elevator as the first of many adds more value to the project, too. Suddenly it becomes a regional initiative, a bigger draw card, rather than just a solution to a local problem for a housing developer. This is my point of difference for my proposal. Oh my God.”

  She pushed her hands through her hair, overwhelmed by all the thought bombs going off in her mind.

  “There’s an old elevator in Reed Point. And there’s one not far from Billings in Rapelje. Probably a bunch more that I haven’t even noticed locally,” Casey said.

  “I need to make a list. I need a map. I need my computer,” Eva said. Then she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Thank you. I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of this myself. You’re amazing.”

  His arms were warm as they came around her back. “Guess this means I’m going to lose you now, huh?”

  His hands settled on her backside, squeezing lightly. As always, her body lit up in response to his touch.

  “You can’t drop a brilliant, potentially career-transforming idea into a girl’s lap and then expect her to ignore it,” she said.

  “Not when that girl is Eva King.”

  Her heart gave a strange little squeeze at the way he said her name. As though it was special to him. As though it meant something.

  His body was firm against hers, his arms strong around her, and she felt a swell of emotion as she looked into his eyes. She’d slept with him that first night because he was hot and sexy and she’d needed something good and uncomplicated in her life, but she’d gotten so much more than she bargained for. He was kind and funny, clever and talented, and, it turned out, a lateral thinker who may have just changed her life.

  “If I go, can I come back again another night?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  She dug her elbow into his ribs to pay him back for his casualness. He laughed and kissed her.

  “On what planet do you think I am ever going to say no to you?” he asked.

  There was so much warmth in his voice and the way he was looking at her. It should have alarmed her. This was supposed to be a hot and sexy fling. Pointless, light, and ultimately meaningless. There was no place in that equation for the way she’d felt tonight, watching him on stage, and the way he was looking at her right now.

  And yet here she was, and here he was.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  She kissed him, then forced herself to get out of the bed. He immediately threw back the covers and reached for his jeans, starting to dress alongside her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Walking you home.”

  “All the way out to the trailer?”

  “That’s right,” he said, pulling up his fly and reaching for his T-shirt.

  She stared at him, amused and touched and challenged by his gallantry.

  How on earth was she supposed to keep her head when he was so sweet and hot and lovely?

  He shot her a quizzical look, and she made herself smile and reach for her dress.

  A minute later they padded quietly through the house, pausing on the porch to pull on their shoes.

  “I feel like a sixteen-year-old,” she said.

  “Welcome to my world.”

  They started down the steps together, and somewhere between the top and bottom step his hand found hers. She figured he was simply trying to steady and guide her but it was scary how right it felt to twine her fingers with his.

  They walked in silence to the trailer, where he opened the door and reached in to turn the light on for her.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” he said.

  “I won’t.”

  His hand found her shoulder, sliding around to palm the nape of her neck. And then he kissed her good night, a thorough, firm, demanding kiss that promised more next time they met.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips as he walked away, the crunch of gravel loud in the quiet night. She wasn’t stupid, she knew this was probably going to end badly. But as she’d already admitted to herself, she didn’t appear to have a lot of self-control where he was concerned. She’d tried being smart and keeping her distance, but her puny stock of willpower was no match for his hotness and her own desire.

  It seemed to her that the only choice she had left was to hang on, enjoy the ride, and hope they both landed on their feet at the end of this thing—whenever that turned out to be.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but so be it.

  In the meantime, she had some serious strategizing to do, thanks to the man who’d just disappeared into the darkness.

  Letting her hand fall from her lips, she climbed the steps and got to work.

  Chapter Ten

  Casey took his shoes off again when he reached the house and let himself in through the kitchen door.

  He’d barely registered the silhouette of someone standing at the open fridge door when Sierra’s high-pitched shriek of alarm almost gave him a heart attack.

  “Jesus, Casey. Are freaking kidding me?” she gasped, one hand to her chest. “What the hell are you doing, sneaking in the back door like a freaking cat burglar?”

  The s
ound of urgent feet coming their way announced Jed’s arrival and he skidded to a halt in the doorway, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs, a baseball bat in hand. The overhead light came on with a snap and all three of them stared at each other under the too-bright light.

  “It’s okay, Sierra just had a scare,” Casey explained to his brother.

  The tension instantly drained out of Jed’s face. “Okay. Good.”

  Sierra gave Casey a look. “Hang on a minute—I did not ‘have a scare.’ You gave me a scare, sneaking in in your socks in the dead of night.”

  Jed’s gaze went to the boots in Casey’s hand.

  “I was trying not to wake anyone up,” Casey said. Annoyingly, he could feel his face growing warm.

  “Since when have you ever given a crap about that?” Sierra demanded.

  Casey sighed. Why did his sister always have to make things harder than they needed to be?

  “I was walking Eva out to the Airstream,” he said.

  Sierra blinked. Then she frowned. “Oh.”

  Not exactly the reaction Casey had expected. Given the way Sierra had been previously fishing for intel regarding his feelings for Eva and how much Sierra seemed to like their tenant, he’d figured his sister would be happy to learn her suspicions had been correct.

  But apparently not.

  “That’s my cue to go back to bed. Night,” Jed said, turning on his heel and exiting.

  Casey eyed his sister, but Sierra was uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Just say whatever it is you want to say,” he said. Might as well get it over with.

  “Why would I have anything to say? It’s your life, not mine.”

  Casey shook his head. It was late and he had a full day tomorrow.

  “Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  He headed for the door.

  “Case.”

  He sighed and turned to face his sister.

  “Just…don’t get hurt, okay?” she said.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. I look forward to having this conversation when Eva’s gone and you’re moping around the ranch like a sad sack because she broke your heart.”