Until today. And that spark had been so bright it had scared him. If he was being honest, it was more than a spark. More like a bonfire. He ran a hand along the back of his neck, rolling his head to ease the tension, and glared up at the wide-open sky and the first flicker of stars.
Her quirky humor. Her smile. Those blue eyes. Altogether too tempting for a man in his position. And he’d let her ride off. No, he’d hoped she’d ride off. Because he wasn’t ready. How could he be? It wasn’t right.
Frustration twisted his insides.
The Lodge rose up, its windows spilling welcome light into the growing darkness. It was bigger than he’d pictured, more impressive, and likely warmer than the cold night air. The bite in the air had increased along this last stretch of road. His fingers tingled and his nose was downright numb. He almost wished he’d taken Renata up on her offer of a ride.
Almost.
Spending more time with her might have ended the fascination—or added to it. She might be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, besides Shanna. And, looking at her, he’d felt something he’d thought he’d lost with his wife. Attraction. Real, hard, knock-the-air-out-his-lungs attraction.
Why was he surprised? He was lonely. So damn lonely he ached. But feeling this way after ten minutes with a stranger was unsettling. And out of character. He wasn’t a hormonal teenager, dammit. He had responsibilities and a family to take care of.
He hurried up the Lodge steps and pushed through the thick wooden door, appreciating the instant warmth, smell of baking bread and bright light. A hot meal, a hot shower and a soft, warm bed was all he wanted. Tomorrow he’d have his interview and leave. And he wouldn’t spend another minute thinking about Renata.
“Evening,” the middle-aged woman gushed. “Checking in?”
Five minutes later he’d dumped his duffel bag on the massive king-size bed in his guest room. The place embraced the country-rustic style. He hung his hat on the wooden headboard, eyed the bed and thick quilt with appreciation, and grabbed the plate of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies on the bedside table. Yes, please. He popped one into his mouth and moaned. Homemade and warm. He ate another and headed into the bathroom for a shower. Pearl, the lady at the front desk, had told him dinner was being served—just enough time to clean up and warm up.
The waterfall shower was heaven. He stood under the steaming faucet until he could feel his fingers and nose again then toweled off and dressed for dinner, leaving the last two cookies for a bedtime snack.
Pearl greeted him at the dining room door. “We have chicken-fried steak with cream gravy, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans or chicken pot pie.” She paused. “Or we’ve got a soup and salad bar? But you look more like a meat-and-potatoes man to me.”
He wasn’t sure what a meat-and-potatoes man looked like, but she was right. “Chicken-fried steak.” He was in Texas. Might as well enjoy the local food.
“You’re in for a treat.” She pointed to the back wall. “There are cups there, tea, soda, water or coffee. Help yourself and pick a spot.”
He nodded, poured himself a cup of steaming hot coffee and sat in a booth along the back wall. A quick inspection of the room told him it was filling up so, to avoid conversation, he opened the information packet the University of East Texas had sent to him. He was excited about teaching—about working with the best and the brightest while keeping a family-friendly schedule.
His phone vibrated, a picture of Curtis appearing. He ran his finger over the picture. Weight settled on his chest as he studied the sweet face. Curtis, sitting between Ash’s mother and mother-in-law, grinning his adorable grin at the camera. His mother followed up with an All good here. Good luck at your interview tomorrow. We’ll see you soon text.
Curtis was getting big—running and climbing and getting into everything. Lucky for him, his son had a sweet disposition and an adventurous spirit. And no fear. Just like his mother. He didn’t like being away from him but knew the short trip, the flights and unfamiliar surroundings would only throw off his schedule.
Thank you for keeping an eye on him, he texted back. Since Shanna’s death, his mom and Shanna’s mom, Betty, had all but moved in. They were both widowed, both retired and both smitten with their only grandchild. As invasive as they were, he knew he couldn’t do it without them. When he’d gone back to work, they’d waved off his suggestions of day care to watch Curtis instead. Which suited Ash, and Curtis, just fine. Shanna had planned on staying home, and the mothers were so tickled by the arrangement, the only thing he had to worry about was Curtis getting spoiled. So far, there was no cause for concern.
“Your dinner.” The blue-haired waitress put a massive plate piled high with deliciousness in front of him. “Dig in, honey. Nothing like a full stomach to make a man smile. I guarantee you that there will put a big smile on your face.” She pointed at the food. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
He nodded and took a bite. Flavor assaulted his taste buds. The waitress was right. He was smiling. And good didn’t begin to describe it. When she returned to drop off a heaping basket of still-warm dinner rolls to his table and winked, he nodded his approval. She chuckled and headed on to another table. Another table with a certain blonde cowgirl. Sitting alone, staring at a computer screen.
He froze midchew. Renata.
Damn it all.
Instant awareness tightened his body. No. She was just a woman. No different than any woman he passed on the street. Certainly nothing to get worked up over. Nothing special. His training had taught him to analyze problems, face them head-on and find answers. Maybe looking at Renata that way would help him. He blew out a slow breath, set his fork down and really looked at her.
There was no denying she was beautiful—she was. And the way she smiled up at the waitress had him wishing she was smiling at him.
Dammit.
Even if he were in a place to pursue her, someone like her would have someone. He waited, expecting her better half to join her. But, as he did his best to eat every morsel of his meal while subtly watching, she remained alone. Even staring at her computer screen, her face was animated.
Enough. He finished his dinner, gulped down the last of his coffee and hurried from the dining room without a backward glance. It was too early to sleep, but maybe he’d have an easier time focusing on the university’s information packet from the comfort of his room and that big bed—far from distractions. Especially blue-eyed blondes with dazzling smiles.
After an hour of reading all about the impressive equipment, accolades and experienced staff at the University of East Texas Veterinary Teaching Hospital, and another hour of lying there flipping channels on the television, he grew restless and his brain began to wander. Never a good thing. Curtis was safe. The mothers had everything under control. The rest needed to stay locked up tight. Best way to do that was to occupy himself. Did they have a gym? He’d packed on some muscle recently, spending more time than he’d admit working through his anger and grief.
He pushed out of his bed and peered out the window of his room. The view from his bedroom window was clear, the sky lit up with a thousand diamonds of various size. Perfect material for a photo session. Carrying his coat in one hand and his camera in the other, he headed down the hall into the great room.
It was quiet, save the occasional snap and pop of the fire in the massive fireplace. An older gentleman sat dozing, a paper held in his hands. Other than that, he had the place to himself. Ash slipped by, taking care to open the French doors that led out onto the back porch. The view took his breath away. It was so familiar and so alien all at once. Yes, he and Shanna had traveled through Stonewall Crossing, but it was more than that. The rolling hills reminded him of his childhood home.
He’d grown up on a southern Oklahoma farm. He’d spent his days on horseback, digging post holes, learning every inch of the place until he could walk it blindfolded. As a
child, he’d had free rein of the wide-open, with the added comfort of a sometimes-too-close-knit community. After his father’s death his mom had held on to the place as long as she could. In the end, she’d had no choice but to sell. She’d bought the small house she still lived in and used the rest to put him through college. As thankful as he was, he regretted losing his heritage. Especially on nights like this. To have a peaceful view like this every night would be a blessing.
Finger on the button, he peered through the lens, angling for the best shot.
“Glad to see you didn’t freeze on your walk.” Renata.
He should be surprised. So why wasn’t he?
He hadn’t left his room to find her. He’d left his room because he was restless. She had nothing to do with that. But there was a part of him that knew he was lying to himself. And finding her here stirred up all sorts of emotions. Should he make small talk? Or bolt back inside?
She waited, rocking silently, her long blond hair pulled over one shoulder and a cup of something steaming in her hands. At ease and relaxed. Unlike him. Standing here, alone with her, he was wound tight and barely holding on. Not that he could say any of that to her. The longer she waited, the more her smile faded. What the hell was wrong with him?
If he kept staring at her, he’d scare her. He didn’t want to scare her. “I managed to keep all my fingers and toes,” he managed, his voice gruff and thick.
“Glad to hear it. I imagine taking pictures would be hard without them—your fingers I mean. Guess you don’t need toes for it, though.” Her smile returned. “And a night like tonight deserves to be photographed.”
He studied her closely, unable to hold back the answering smile her teasing caused. Yes. Beautiful.
She stood, cradling her mug closer. “Want some hot chocolate?”
No. Not really. So why was he nodding?
“I’ll get you some,” she said, heading toward the door.
“I mean, no, I’m fine.” Why the hell had he stopped her? If she went inside, he could leave—put distance between them. But if she left... “You’re familiar with this place?” he asked.
Her smile changed, like she knew a secret. “A bit. Why?”
“Small talk, I guess.” He wasn’t good at this—talking for the sake of talking. Recently, he spent the majority of his time with two old women who never let him get a word in edgewise and a baby who was content to make random noises.
“What’s your favorite thing to photograph?” she asked, leaning against the railing at his side.
He looked down at her as the wind kicked up. Her sweet scent flooded his nostrils and his brain. The ache was sharp and sudden. He’d almost forgotten this. The urge to touch a woman, to take her hand...or hold her close. But now, staring down at Renata, he wondered what it would be like to feel her in his arms. To run his fingers through her soft hair. Or breathe in her scent. To taste her lips and, for a little while, forget about heartache and loneliness.
Chapter 2
This big, gorgeous, brooding man wanted to kiss her. He’d been staring at her mouth so long she began to think he might just do it. Worse yet, she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She wanted this big, gorgeous, brooding man to kiss her. Even the fact that he was a complete and total stranger wasn’t a deterrent.
She’d never been one to act on attraction or take risks. And her uneventful and disappointing love life was the result. But tonight, with Ash, the connection between them was too tangible, electric and undeniable. The way he was looking at her—he might as well be touching her.
“Ash?” she whispered.
He blinked, swallowed and stepped back. “Jet lag,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. But when he looked her way, his jaw tightened and his lips thinned.
He was embarrassed. He shouldn’t be.
She’d never played games. Ever. When she was a kid, she’d asked for what she wanted—figuring the worst that could happen was being denied. This was the same thing, wasn’t it? If he wanted to kiss her and she wanted to kiss him, they should. As long as there was no one and nothing stopping them? She cleared her throat, fully aware that he was trying not to look at her. “Are you married?”
His gaze locked with hers. “No.”
She swallowed, then asked, “Girlfriend?”
“No. I’m as single as a person can be,” he said, a hint of pain tugging at her heart. His pale eyes returned to hers. He swallowed. “What about you, Renata?”
“Same as you,” she said, her voice wavering. “Good thing, too, since I can tell you want to kiss me.”
There it was again, that surprise that widened his gaze. Right before the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I do?” His voice was lovely, all gruff and gravel.
“Yes.” She’d learned how to fake confidence from her four brothers—something she was incredibly grateful for.
He turned to face her, leaning against the railing as his gaze swept her from toe to head. “Do you want to be kissed?”
Breathing was a challenge. How could a look make her feel so beautiful? He was waiting for an answer. “By you?” she asked, smiling.
He laughed then, a wonderful, full-chested laugh. “Were you out here waiting for someone else to come along?”
“I wasn’t really waiting for anyone. I was enjoying the view. And my hot chocolate.” She hesitated, then confessed, “But I was hoping you’d show up.”
“Why?” There was a vulnerability that plucked at her heart.
She pointed up at the bunch of mistletoe she’d helped hang. It was several feet away from them but—she thought—close enough. There were several bunches placed in strategic spots around the porch. “Isn’t it bad luck? Not to be kissed under the mistletoe, I mean.”
His was laughing again. “I’ve never heard that.” But he stepped closer.
“I’m sure I have,” she said, setting her mug on the railing. “Might as well get it over with.”
His brows rose. “You don’t sound very optimistic.”
“I’d rather you wanted to kiss me instead of doing it out of obligation.” Was she being bold? Yes. But, if he kissed her, would it be worth it? Yes. Somehow, she knew it would be completely and totally worth it.
“So there’s no confusion...” He stepped aside, put his camera on her rocking chair and pulled her another five feet away from under the mistletoe. “I want to kiss you.”
His words made everything melt a little, in the best possible way. “Good answer,” she said, breathless. And eager. Her heart went into overdrive in the beat department, but at least he couldn’t hear it. His hand slid up her neck to cradle her cheek, leaving a trail of tingles and fire and warning and excitement and pure want in its wake.
Her hand covered his as he stooped to kiss her.
Oh. His lips... Her eyes fluttered shut as his thumb brushed along her jaw. She’d never kissed a stranger. To be completely honest, she hadn’t kissed a lot of men. She was selective with her kisses.
But she was so glad. His mouth was firm, moving against hers with a tenderness that had her swaying into him. Gripping his shirtfront. Shuddering as his arms slid around her waist. Shuddering again when he pulled her flush against him. Her hand slid up, tangling in his thick, dark hair.
It was the best kiss ever. The sort of kiss that went on and on. She didn’t want it to end. There was hunger in his touch—need. From the tremble of his hand at her waist, the hitch in his breath and the urgency of his mouth on hers. And when her lips parted beneath his, he held on to her like a man drowning.
Oh God, she understood. She didn’t know his past but she knew the desperation. He was alone. She was alone. And this, being wrapped up in him, clinging to him, assured them, right now, they weren’t alone. Both of them craved something more. Needed each other—in this moment if nothing else.
He tore his lips from hers. “I’m sorry,” h
e whispered, gasping. “It’s been a long time.”
“Don’t apologize.” She stared up at him, knowing her eyes blazed with just as much hunger as his. Her fingers traced along his hairline, down his temple and along his jaw. A jaw that tightened briefly. “Wow. That was some kiss.”
“It was,” he ground out, his voice hard. Whatever he was thinking, he stiffened. His arms stayed anchored around her waist. But he leaned away from her, as if he was fighting some internal battle. His pale eyes closed, his hands and fingers pressing against her back, before he relaxed. When his eyes opened, the fire burned bright. “You’ve been straight with me—”
“Because I wanted you to kiss me,” she interrupted, her hands resting on his shoulders now. She didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to say good-night. Not yet.
He smiled. “I’ll be straight with you.” He paused. “I’m here for one night.” He cleared his throat. “But it seems to me we could both use the company. I want you something fierce.” His gaze pinned hers. “Stay with me.”
Stay with him. She could hold on to him all night. His hand slid up her back to sweep the hair from her shoulder. There was tenderness in his gaze and his touch. His kiss told her there would also be passion. Dammit, she ached to find passion with this man. She ached for him. A head-to-toe quiver racked her body at the mere thought of what they’d be like together.
She was pretty sure this wasn’t how one-night stands were supposed to go. She’d seen enough movies and TV shows to know this was unusual. But she figured there was a reason for his hesitancy. There was pain in those pale eyes. He’d been badly hurt. Maybe he was still hurting. He might want to spend the night with her, but he didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding or pain when they went back to their respective realities.
Tomorrow, he’d be gone and no one would ever know about her magical night.
She’d have a secret to treasure.
She didn’t have to think about her answer. Every sensible bone in her body was inexplicably silent. There was no need for a pros-and-cons list or ticking through consequences. She wanted what he was offering, 100 percent. She wanted him—more than she’d ever wanted anything. “Yes.”
Home on the Ranch: Texas Wedding Page 2