by Em Petrova
They couldn’t even open a door without people swarming them. She’d kept her head down, and no one had bothered her, but she was sure one of the cameras had swung her way. If so, she’d soon be all over the tabloids.
She stared at the family huddled together saying a prayer before today’s opening events.
She caught only snippets of words—thanks, strength. West was on the side of the ring away from her, but if he looked up, he’d see her. Did she want that? What if he made a spectacle by walking over?
As she looked on, she saw him lift a hand and plant it on Ridge’s shoulder. The tension in his fingers spoke of something bigger, heavier going on in the group. She wished she could hear what it was, but on the other hand, she didn’t want to be dragged into more messes.
Condom scare, fans… how many strikes did you need against someone to convince you that kind of life wasn’t right for you? She lived simple, honestly. Uncomplicated. She had a purpose: do her job, do it well. Up to that point it had been enough. Should have been enough.
But, there was that big but… she loved being in West’s bed—or couch or against the wall.
“For Dad,” the Calhouns said in unison.
Her gaze was locked on West’s face when he spoke the words. A deep emotion lived on his rugged features, stirring her. He wasn’t saying it for the cameras or because his family asked it of him.
He meant the words. He was the real deal.
They raised their heads but before West spied her, she hurried away.
What would it be like to be part of that family? They seemed such a tight-knit group, which was part of their allure with the TV audience.
As she hurried to the space where she’d set up for the day, a couple cowboys tipped their hats and said hello. She absentmindedly returned the greeting and continued on.
The next few minutes were spent organizing for the day. When she’d finished, she checked the time and breathed a sigh of relief. She had ten minutes before her conference call. She took the time to collect her thoughts. She had to put her best foot forward. Discussing her oils and plans for them would be the easy part. She had the confidence, but her quiet ways didn’t always get her the notice she wanted. In this case, she’d need to talk herself up. Not the easiest task.
She opened the chest of oils and found what she wanted. A mixture of cedarwood, cypress, sweet fennel and grapefruit would help with self-esteem and assertiveness. She poured a bit into her palm and dabbed it on her pulse points. Then she closed her eyes and offered the spirits some words, much like the Calhouns had done a few minutes ago.
By the time she received the call, she was prepared. She calmly discussed her vision for her line of oils and how much it cost to prepare each. What she’d sell them for, and how they could be marketed as a way to supplement health.
Halfway through the conversation, a cowboy came in, lip bloodied. She wondered if he’d had a run-in with a Calhoun or a stray hoof. She held up a finger to indicate she’d be with him in a moment. He took a seat on one of the beds and pulled out his cell.
She spoke to her people for a few more minutes, and soon the call ended. With a smile, she turned to the cowboy. “Sorry about that. I was on a conference call.”
“That’s okay. I was just passin’ time with one of these social media sites. Did you see this?” He held up his phone, and Malou looked at the screen.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
West and a leggy blonde getting into his truck. From their surroundings, it was impossible to make out their location, but the photo looked to be recent. She’d seen West wearing that same shirt a few weeks ago.
Malou lifted her gaze to the man’s face. “Let’s talk about this lip.”
“Ain’t the lip I’m worried about.” He grinned, splitting the scab again. Blood beaded on his lower lip. He turned his head a bit, and she saw his ear. A steady trickle of blood oozed from a ragged tear at the top.
She blew out a sigh. “I see what you mean. I’ll clean it and see what we’re dealing with. You’re probably going to need a plastic surgeon.”
At that, he gave a low chuckle. “I don’t need to look fancy, Doc. Just keep it from falling off my head. You’ll serve me fine.”
“We’ll see,” was all she’d say. After she got the blood cleared away, she realized it wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought. She was just knotting the final stitch when a clatter sounded at the doorway.
She and the cowboy looked up in time to see a tall, broad man braced in the opening. Beyond him people milled. Malou spotted camera equipment, and she gave a disgusted snort.
West. And he’d brought his film crew with him. If he thought she was going to give him the time of day after learning about the leggy blonde, he was much stupider than she’d imagined. She’d never talk to him with cameras around—she wasn’t going to be another face splashed across a celebrity mag.
She took her time treating the stitches with healing ointment and bandaging the patient’s ear. It was certain this cowboy was going back into that arena, where the flying dust and hooves were a cocktail for more harm.
“I need to see you, Doc.” West’s voice sent chill bumps skittering over her forearms. She cursed them, him and herself too.
“I’m busy with a patient.” She didn’t bother to look his way.
“He can have my seat. I’m all fixed up. Thanks, Doc. Send me the bill.”
She smiled in return and a rumble, so low she almost didn’t detect it, came from the doorway. Keeping her attention far away from West the Womanizer Calhoun, she waved at her patient. “Be careful. Keep the bandage on for twenty-four hours. And then keep it clea—”
“Got it, Doc,” he interrupted and vanished with a thump of boots.
Leaving her alone with West.
She twisted away.
“Playin’ hard to get? Okay—sounds fun.”
She whirled to face him and found her nose nearly pressed to the fibers of his shirt. She stepped back. “No, I’m not playing hard to get. But I am trying to get away from you. What do you want, West?”
Surprise washed over his face. “What’s gotten your yoga mat in a bunch?”
“I’m not into yoga, and I’m not into a man who changes his women more than his underwear!”
Suddenly, she remembered the condom scare. So stupid—now she’d have to get a battery of tests to check for diseases.
The thought made her angrier with herself. She gathered all the supplies she’d used to stitch the cowboy and started throwing things into a metal bin and some items into the trash. The needle she deposited in hazardous waste, but too soon she was out of things to do. And idle hands meant she would want to touch the big, juicy cowboy in front of her. Her body didn’t seem to care that he acted like a dick.
He cursed, low. “You saw that social media pic, didn’t ya?”
“Everything you do is front-page news, West. Of course I saw it!” Her fury peaked, but most of it was directed at herself for being so stupid and trustful. What had ever made her think West would care about her? She was a conquest, a notch in the headboard.
It must look like it’s been attacked by a beaver.
“Look at me, L’il Bit.”
She definitely wasn’t answering his request, even in that sweet Southern drawl.
“Lou.” His warm, minty breath wafted across her cheek. She went dead still, fighting the urge to turn her face the slightest inch and kiss him.
Who was she kidding? She wanted to own those lips like a car collector wanted a Lamborghini.
A camera guy popped up. She cried out, grabbed two white curtains and whipped them together, keeping him out.
“Dammit, I told them not to follow me in here. Assholes.” West stomped to the spot but when he opened the curtains, nobody was around. The cameraman must have known West was gunning for him and split.
West turned back to her, hands freely dangling by his sides. No fists, no folded arms. This was not a man who had something to hide, and he
wasn’t on the defense.
“Saraya is not a part of my life, Lou.”
“Saraya? She sounds like a condiment. Oh wait, she probably is to you. So what was the main course?” She was far from calm, however. She planted her hands on her hips, and he tracked the movement. Liquid heat trickled low between her thighs, and she almost screamed in frustration.
She didn’t want West Calhoun. Her life was simple, easy, exactly what she’d always hoped for. Work with those less fortunate and go home with a clear conscience.
Then why was she letting West upend that life she’d made?
He took a step toward her. She held up her hands to ward him off, but he kept coming, all bulging muscles, intense eyes and a grit she’d seen in men of his type.
Except he wears it so damn well.
She compressed her lips and stared at him. He came closer. She raised her chin a notch as if daring him. But giving West a dare was like waving a flag at a bull—he was going to paw the earth to get at her.
“I wasn’t with Saraya recently.” He pitched his voice low. Whether to bring her into his secret or keep someone else from learning it, she had no idea. Actually, why the hell did she care?
She tried to push by him, but he seemed to make himself bigger, taking up all the room. She folded her arms and waited. “Go on. I’ll give you thirty seconds of my time to listen to your lies and then I’m kicking you out of my clinic.”
Something like pain crossed his features, making them ripple. Her heartstrings tugged, and she coiled them in tighter. He wasn’t touching her. No way.
“You think I’d lie to you? Hell, I don’t lie to anyone. The few times I did, my dad whooped me good. My behind felt like I’d been stung by a hive full of bees.”
She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep her sudden, infuriatingly stupid smile at bay. Damn him. He was cute and funny and damned good in bed.
He tugged her dreadlock, and it was all over. She felt her arms slip down her chest. “Okay, so what if I choose to believe you’re not lying?”
“I’m not. And just so ya know, I’d call any man out who accused me of it. He’d find himself missing a few teeth. But you… I think I’d just spank you.”
Full-body pleasure clutched her. Her pussy squeezed and her nipples bunched. She could smell him, all sexy man. She wanted to get closer and find out why he smelled like fresh-cut grass when he hadn’t been anywhere near a lawnmower.
“You weren’t with Siracha right before you were with me?”
He huffed a laugh, but the light in his eyes was anything but humorous. He trapped her wrists in his big hands.
She had no desire to move anyway.
“I wasn’t with Saraya, and I don’t care for Siracha. Gives me gas.”
She couldn’t help it—she laughed. A full belly variety that bubbled up without hope of being stopped.
It was far too late. He was leaning closer. She was lost—in all ways.
* * * * *
How did she know those gauzy black pants made his dick as hard as oak? And the way she wore her hair today, the ropes bundled off her nape, made him want to lick her from head to toe. Starting in the middle and stretching to both ends.
He eased his hand around her low back, bringing her close. She bowed in his hold, letting him mold her to fit his body. Whether she realized it or not, his body ruled hers. She could try to make decisions for it, but when it came to that final say, her body weighed in.
Damn, he wanted to so bad he felt like a junkie wanting a fix. But he needed to show her that she wasn’t only sexual release for him. Dipping his head, he nuzzled her earlobe. Drinking in her spiced scent. “What is that you wear?”
“Uh-hh,” she stuttered, pulse flickering in her throat. “You’re probably smelling sweet fennel and cypress.”
“Mmm.” He ran his nose along the column of her throat.
“And grapefruit.”
“That one I recognize. My mother would be happy with you, Lou.”
Her breath hitched. “Why?”
“She always wanted me to eat my fruits, and now I’ve found one I like.” He stuck out his tongue and stroked a short path up to her ear.
She issued a shivery sigh. Oh yeahhhh, her body screamed yes, yes, yes.
His lips quirked up as he pulled her closer. He wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d come half a dozen times and lay spent in her special spot against his chest. “Look, I only have another minute before the cameras come in and catch us together. And since I know you don’t want to be linked to me—”
“I don’t.”
“Hopefully not because you’re embarrassed of me,” he said without missing a beat.
“I don’t want to be another in your lineup.”
Ouch. “There’s no lineup, Lou. That photo of me and Saraya was taken back around Halloween. What you don’t see in that photo was Buck holding his son, who was wearing a Frankenstein costume with his face painted green. I can prove it, because Wynonna snapped the same pic on her phone. I can make her show you if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“No, no, you’re right,” she said firmly. “I don’t need to see it.”
“So you believe me.”
“I… yes.”
He caught her gaze and held it, searching the depths of her eyes. Then he leaned in and kissed her softly. A single soft brush of his lips. “Give me a few hours to figure out how to keep the cameras off you, and then I’ll come get you. I want you to come home with me for a few days.”
Her lips opened on a small O. “What?”
“You can get time off at work, right? You get vacation, I assume.”
“I… That’s not the point. Why would I want to come home with you?”
“Because I want to get to know you better. And I want you to know me without the crowds and the screaming fans and fights breaking out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You punched someone today, didn’t you?”
“Nope. I can exercise self-control. Nobody got a picture of you, as far as I know.”
“Unless it releases six months from now.”
“By then we won’t mind.” Because she’d be a fixture in his life.
Where was this coming from? So far he’d broken all his own rules for her. Hell, he’d gone to jail for her. Once he got her home he was going to unwrap her layers until he got to her sweet, gooey center and found out what made her tick.
“I’ll come for you. Be packed, Lou.”
“I can’t just leave my truck.”
“We’ll hitch it to the back of the motorhome.”
“There’s a Calhoun motorhome?” She blinked.
“Yeah, for Buck and Channing and the kiddos. They can’t travel without ten thousand bags and their nanny, who helps out here at the rodeos, so they take it all with them.” He leaned in and dropped a peck to the rounded tip of her nose. “So you don’t have any more excuses not to come with me.”
“I don’t know, West.”
“I do know. I can see you want to come.” He lowered his voice and bit down on her earlobe. “You want me.” She squirmed, but he held her firmly against his erection.
Damn, she had his heart all rolled up in barbed wire. She made him hurt so good. And he could make her feel more than good. As soon as he got her home, he just knew he’d get what he wanted—to be closer to her.
As he prepared for his next event, West recalled how he’d mounted a horse while sporting a hard-on a time or two, but nothing like this. He groaned as he settled himself in the saddle. Adjusting himself would do no good—he’d tried half a dozen times. He was hard as brick, and it was all the fault of one sly little doctor.
He smiled crookedly at the thought of what she’d done to him with a single promising look. As if he needed help getting hard, especially around her. But she’d known how he’d suffer, and he could almost see the playful smile she’d be wearing.
He tipped his hat to the fans chanting his name. His heart beat faster in anticipation of the event. All h
e needed was a half-assed score to maintain his rank, but he gave everything his all.
And soon he’d give that to Malou. All nine throbbing inches.
He scanned the sidelines where his family stood watching him. Their support meant the world to him. If he did the spinoff, it would be for them, to help out in the lean times. He couldn’t make a choice about that right now—mostly because he couldn’t quit thinking about his cock.
Annnnnd I’m off.
He drove his horse forward. His lasso hit squarely, sure and true. He leaped off the horse and hit the ground running. Caught up to the animal and had its feet tied in seconds.
Maybe in fewer seconds than he’d done it yesterday.
The arena went crazy for him, and he raised both hands in victory. More screams. People had banners made with his name on it, and the big screen was flashing his picture along with his time stamped at the bottom in red.
6.9 seconds.
When West blinked at the number, his mind went straight to the dirtiest possible place. He’d call it an omen—or a promise of what was to come with his sexy little doc.
His brothers and sister were giving him thumbs’ up from the sidelines, and he returned it. He looked closer in hopes of seeing Malou, but he couldn’t pick her out in this crowd.
Being swamped by cameras and reporters was getting old. All he wanted was to go find Malou. And he needed to talk to his family and get them on board with helping him hide her on the ranch and keep the cameras away. That would be no small feat, but he couldn’t risk her being filmed and becoming angry with him.
Slowly he made his way through the crowd, giving answers in grunts and ducking his head to avoid the lenses. When he reached his family, two little dark-haired imps rushed at his legs. He lifted each in an arm and jostled them around as they squealed and batted at him to be put down even though they loved it.
“You lost these,” he said to Asher, handing the girls over. Their father accepted them with a grin. He was looking a little less strained today, and West hoped the worst of whatever he was going through was over. Wynonna had said he’d gone to a local bank and it seemed he might get that horse trailer after all. West was happy for him—he’d had too much heartache in recent years.