“Will you wait a minute?” Frankie asked, appearing out of the shadows at a fast pace.
“I gotta go. ’Night, Frankie.”
She grabbed his arm, wouldn’t let go when he tried to pull away. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Can’t we at least talk? I know you overheard, and I’m really sorr—”
“Drop it.” He revved the engine, itching to feel the night air and the isolation of the open road.
“Fine,” she said, then shocked him by climbing on the bike behind him.
“What’re you doing? Get the hell off my bike,” he said.
“Not unless you agree to stay here so we can talk.”
“Not in the mood,” he snapped.
“Then I’ll go with you till you get in the mood.”
Oh, hell. “Where’s Johnny?”
“At a sleepover with your niece and nephews.”
“You ever ridden on one of these?”
“Uh, no.”
He revved the engine again, flipped up the kickstand. “Then hold on.”
They took off like a shot, and she squealed, grabbing for his arms.
“Put your arms around my waist,” he shouted.
Her arms slid around his stomach, and she squeezed.
“It’s open road for the most part, but lean into the turns.”
“What?”
“Just feel what my body does and do that.”
He felt her scoot closer to him, molding her body to his.
Oh, crap. This might not be such a good idea.
It took her a while, but she finally seemed to get the hang of riding with him. Only problem was, her body was doing things to his it shouldn’t be. And the thoughts he was having about sleeping with her would never—could never—be a reality.
The sun had set a while ago, and now stars were popping out like diamonds in the dusky sky. This was the time of day he liked best, but it was marred by Wentworth’s words. He felt like he was sixteen again, when fathers pulled their daughters out of his way or slammed the door in his face.
Yeah, he’d been trouble. But that wasn’t him any longer. At least he was working on it.
Wyatt knew he wasn’t the right man for Frankie. They were too different. So why did she turn him on so damn much? Every time she looked at him with those pretty blue eyes, he wanted to kiss her. When she laughed, he wanted to snatch her away to the closest bed—hell, any horizontal surface would do—and make love to her.
And if she pressed herself any closer to him on the bike, he’d embarrass himself like a thirteen-year-old boy with his first girlie magazine.
He spotted the turnoff to the old hunting cabin and took a right, bumping down the rutted road.
Space.
He needed a few minutes of space away from her.
She’d be fine at the cabin while he cooled off.
He drove into the grove of trees protecting the cabin and stopped the bike. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Go on in the cabin out of the cold.”
He started walking away, but he heard her fancy shoes crunching on the dry leaves behind him.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back,” he said and kept going.
She grabbed his arm. “Can I come with you?”
His patience snapped and he turned around, got up in her face. “I just spent the last thirty minutes with you pressing your smokin’-hot body against my back. Unless you want to take this into the cabin and get serious, I need some space.”
Her jaw dropped. Then she snapped it shut and smiled. But it wasn’t her normal smile. This one...this one was a siren’s smile. One that said come on in, let me show you a good time, sailor.
“You think my body’s smoking hot?” she asked and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He gripped her slim hips, tried to push her back. But she tightened her hold, pressed herself to him.
“I think you’re pretty hot yourself, cowboy,” she whispered in his ear.
His body hardened even more, bordering on pain.
“Frankie, I’m warning you—”
“I’m a single, healthy woman, standing in front of the most ruggedly attractive man I’ve ever seen, and he’s just told me he finds me hot. What do you think I want to do now? Wait here like a good little girl while you go cool off?” She shook her head slowly. “Not by a long shot, cowboy.”
She closed the short distance and pressed her lips to his. Her mouth fused to his, nipping, biting, licking, until it drove him damn near crazy. He thought his head—hell, his whole body—would explode from the sheer pleasure of her mouth.
He let go of her hips, slid one hand up to her neck and held her still while he took over the kiss. He cupped her ass with his other hand, pressed her against him until she whimpered. He walked her backward until they hit the cabin porch steps, then lifted her till she wrapped her legs around his hips.
She writhed in his arms, rubbing her body against his, and he stumbled up the stairs, kicked the door open. The cabin was dark, and he felt for the electric lantern on the table by the door, flicked it on.
A low glow chased some of the shadows away, enough to make sure the cabin was empty. He fumbled for the door, slammed it shut.
She circled her hips against his groin, and his knees almost buckled. He turned around, pressed her up against the door. She lowered her legs but kept full-body contact.
“You drive me crazy, Frankie.”
He didn’t think—no, he knew no woman had ever affected him like this. He’d never been a saint, but he’d always avoided relationships that went beyond some fun.
But with Frankie, it was more than that. Along she’d come with her kid, both worming their way under his skin. He liked being around them. It frustrated him, pissed him off—
She popped the top snap on his flannel shirt. “Now what was that you mentioned about getting serious?” She gripped his shirt and yanked it open.
Cool air hit his back as she pushed his shirt and jacket off. She stared at his upper body, then licked her lips.
It was all the invitation he needed. He pushed her thick blue sweater up until he could yank it off. Her light blue lace bra outlined her perky breasts, and he thought if he couldn’t see her naked soon, he’d die. But God help him, he couldn’t move.
She pushed off the door and stepped closer to him, reaching for the zipper on his jeans. The sound echoed in the quiet cabin as she lowered it.
“Wait,” he said, his voice harsh.
“Why?”
“Are you sure about this?”
She nodded, slid her hand inside his jeans and touched him.
Then he really did almost explode. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
She smiled, that damn siren smile. “Seeing as how you’re not even touching me—yet—I’d say I’m the one taking advantage of you.”
“You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”
“You should hear what they call me in the boardroom.”
Her words were light, but the hurt was there, beneath them.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“That’s not what I mea—”
“I know what you mean.” Even as he watched, a mask covered her face, and she kissed him, pulled him close. “Take me to bed, Wyatt.”
He slowly unhooked her pants and let them slide down her long legs. She kicked off her shoes, stepped away from the pile of clothing.
He’d never wanted any woman this way, this much. He shucked his boots and jeans as she slid her bra off.
They reached for each other at the same time, hands sliding, exploring, taunting, teasing, seducing. The bed was old, just a twin size. She lay down and pulled him on top of her. The old iron frame cr
eaked and groaned, but he didn’t care.
He just wanted this vibrant woman beneath him with an insane passion.
He made himself stop thinking—stop thinking this was a mistake, stop thinking he’d eventually hurt her, stop thinking about the world outside—and just let himself feel.
* * *
FRANCINE WOKE WITH a start, a warm weight pressing against her backside. Wyatt spooned her from behind, one arm tucked around her middle, keeping her close. ’Course there wasn’t much room to spread out in this tiny bed, in this tiny cabin. Their cocoon.
She looked around the one-room cabin, noted it was hardly big enough for a stove, table and two chairs, and the bed. And it was surprisingly clean for being out in the middle of God only knew where.
She couldn’t believe what she’d done tonight. She’d gone on pure instinct when she climbed on the back of his bike earlier that evening. Then to actually seduce him? She’d never done that, even when she was married. Of course, Wyatt was nothing like her ex-husband.
Nor was he like any other man she’d ever met.
Maybe being in Montana was making her bolder, more adventurous in life.
He’d made her feel things she’d never felt before. The weasel had always told her she was frigid, that she never satisfied him.
But with Wyatt—well, they’d more than satisfied each other.
“You all right?” Wyatt’s voice rumbled in her ear.
“Yes. You?”
He stroked his thumb lazily across her breast. “Yep.”
“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?”
“Don’t think it’s necessary to use a lot of words to get the point across.”
“I forgot to ask where Sadie is. Is she at your cabin?”
“She’s over at Luke’s with her husband.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Excuse me? Your dog has a husband?”
He grimaced. “Dang. That slipped out. Sounds goofy, don’t it? Maddy heard us talking that Luke’s dog is the father of her puppies and demanded the dogs get married.”
She laughed. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Were you the ring bearer?” she teased.
“I walked Sadie down the aisle, seeing as Maddy said I’m Sadie’s dad.”
“Okay, now that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I want to see pictures.”
“You would,” he murmured.
She moved her arm to link fingers with him and caught a glimpse of her watch. A few minutes after eleven. “Oh, no!” She sat up fast, knocking his chin with her shoulder.
“Ow,” he said and rubbed his chin.
“I’m sorry. I need to check on Johnny. He’s never slept over with any kids.” She flung the blanket off and the cold air hit her hard, making her skin prickle.
“Never?” he asked, reaching for his jeans on the floor.
“No.” She leaned forward and picked up her clothes, shook out the slacks. “Oh, no. My phone isn’t here.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I must have left it in the conference room. We need to leave.” She slid her slacks on, then pulled the sweater on, and stuffed her bra in her pocket.
“Take a breath, Frankie.”
“But—”
A ding echoed in the tiny cabin, and Wyatt held his phone up. “I just texted Nash. He said Johnny’s fine. They’re having fun. Nash grilled burgers, made Johnny’s new favorite dessert, suhmores, they played a rousing game of Candy Land—Maddy’s favorite game—and watched Cars.”
Relief hit her hard. She’d been frantic, worrying about what a rotten mother she was, having fun with Wyatt while her son was possibly crying for her.
She looked down at Wyatt, still naked, comfortable in his nakedness.
He looked up at her, the strangest expression on his face. Then he seemed to shake it off and linked his fingers with hers, brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Lemme get dressed and we’ll go.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, then dressed quickly.
She wavered, hating to leave but wanting to be closer to Johnny, just in case.
Wyatt picked up his denim jacket and held it out for her.
“No, you keep it. I’ve got this sweater on.”
“I’ll be fine. Wind’s blowing.” He held it for her to slip into, and she knew better than to argue this time.
“Thanks.”
He pulled the jacket into place, buttoned it up and stood the collar up to protect her neck. Then he pulled her into his arms, pressed a kiss to her forehead. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. “Come home with me?”
She studied his face. The words were simple, straightforward, with a touch of vulnerability coating them.
Leaning forward, she kissed his lips. “Okay.”
They left the warmth of the cabin, and she shivered in the wind blowing through the trees. Full dark now, but the moon shone brightly, and the stars—the stars made her catch her breath.
“It’s so beautiful out here.”
“Yeah. I missed the nights the most.”
“I thought you had always lived here.”
The silence stretched out for several seconds.
“I was gone for a few years.”
“Where’d you go?”
They’d reached his bike, and he climbed on. “South. Come on. Need to get back.”
She climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, knew better than to press the issue now.
But it raised some questions.
Everyone had secrets, times in their life they didn’t want to discuss.
As they drove away, she wondered if he’d ever open up to her.
Chapter Nine
Francine had almost gone into an alternate state on the ride back to the lodge. She’d been content to hold on to Wyatt, feeling his body as he maneuvered the bike down the long, lonely stretch of road, the night air whipping against her face. She wanted to make love with him again but wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to be the seductress this time.
She looked up when he stopped the bike by the path to the lodge. Her heart sank. Was he already kicking her metaphorically out of his bed?
“You want to run up and get your phone? So you have it with you?”
Okay, so maybe he’s not tired of me yet. “Thanks. Be right back.” She hopped off and hurried up the path and into the lodge. Sure enough, her phone was on the conference room table.
The lodge was quiet as she headed back outside. As she walked down the path, she heard a muted voice. Wyatt climbed off his bike and set the kickstand.
“Frankie, I need to go. Luke needs me in the calving barn.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Cow having trouble giving birth. Luke needs a few extra hands. I’m sorry.”
Luke was the veterinarian, she remembered. “Anything I can do?”
He looked at her, his mouth cocked up in half a grin.
She waved her hands. “I know, I know. Stupid question coming from a city girl.”
He kissed her cheek. “Sweet of you to ask. You better get some sleep.”
And with that, he was gone, almost running to one of the many barns silhouetted against the night sky.
Knowing she needed sleep to be fresh for the meeting the next day, she still found herself following the path Wyatt had taken. She peered through the half-open door spilling light onto the concrete, followed the light to the left corner of the cavernous barn. She stepped over the threshold, making sure to keep her steps quiet, and moved closer to a stack of hay bales so she could see.
Luke looked up from his position by the cow’s rump and saw her, a flash of surprise crossing his face. He nodded at her, then went back to whatever it was he was doing.
Wyatt squatted next to Luke and they talked, then
Wyatt got up and moved to sit next to the cow.
The cow jerked, letting out the most pitiful moo Francine had ever heard in her life. Wyatt’s hands stroked the cow’s side. He leaned closer toward the cow’s head, and she thought he was talking to it.
Then she realized he was singing to the cow. His voice was low, gravelly, like the smoothest chocolate with a bite of the finest whiskey.
And utterly breathtaking.
The cow seemed to settle, laying her head on the ground. Wyatt leaned closer, keeping up the long strokes on her side.
Luke said something, and she tore her gaze away from Wyatt. The vet was pulling on long plastic gloves—so long they almost reached his shoulders.
She blanched, realizing what would come next. Sure enough, he was reaching inside the cow, who jerked again, raising her head. Wyatt stopped singing and laid his hands on the cow’s side.
She automatically moved forward to kneel next to the cow’s head. “It’s okay, sweet girl. They’ll take care of you.”
“Frankie, what’re you doing here?” Wyatt asked in a low voice, squinting at her.
She stroked the cow’s head. “Sing some more. It’s keeping her calm.”
He shook his head but started singing again.
Sure enough, the cow quieted down, but Francine kept stroking her head, just as mesmerized by his voice as the cow seemed to be.
Not quite five minutes later, Luke gave a grunt and guided a baby cow—a calf, she amended—free from its mother. “Looks like we have a boy,” he said and grinned at her.
“Congratulations, Mama,” Francine said, her voice breaking into a small sob.
“You okay?” Wyatt asked.
She swiped a tear off her cheek. “Birth is always a miracle, isn’t it?”
Wyatt grinned, but Luke spoke up. “It will be if this little guy pulls through.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, alarmed.
“Calving usually happens in the spring. We’ll have to keep him warm and with his mother through the winter,” Luke explained.
Falling for the Rebel Cowboy Page 9