Can't Let Her Go

by Sandy James

  She let out a little sigh and rubbed her cheek against his arm.

  Never had he anticipated feeling for someone the kinds of emotions this woman inspired. He’d always thought his parents were a bit much, the way they always held hands and called each other those lovey-dovey pet names. Having thought those actions were just for the benefit of their image, he now felt ignorant about how to make a relationship work—especially to get one to be as great as what his parents shared.

  For the first time in his life, Ethan was thinking about things he swore that he would never be a part of his life. Monogamy. Devotion. Shit, he’d even had a passing thought about how a kid would look, one that he and Chelsea shared. A little girl with her mom’s flaming hair.

  And if that wasn’t enough to make him want to finish off a bottle of whiskey…

  Leaving behind the interstate and the lights and noise, he headed for home. First the main roads, then the county roads. As he always did when he turned to ease up the long gravel drive to the barn, he released a sigh of relief.

  Home.

  Only this time, for the first time, he wasn’t alone.

  Ethan drove past the barn, stopping long enough to glance out the window at the big board and see that Joe had completed the last of the evening chores as he’d promised. Then he parked the truck outside the kitchen door next to where Joe had left Chelsea’s SUV.

  Although he hated to wake her, even if only to help her get inside and into a proper bed, Ethan nudged her. “Chelsea, baby. We’re here.”

  She woke up as quickly as she fell asleep. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she blinked a few times. “I should get going then. Got a long drive home.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere. Not when you’re this exhausted.”

  “I need to go home, Ethan.”

  With another shake of his head, he opened the door and climbed out of the truck. Then he held his hand out to her. “You’re staying here tonight.”

  Why was she hesitating? Damn, if she wasn’t tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I really should leave,” she replied.

  “I won’t be responsible for you driving off the road and into some ditch.”

  “But…” Her eyes finally found his. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not ready to sleep with you.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake… Is that what’s bugging you?”

  * * *

  “It’s not bugging me, I just…” Chelsea let out a huff. “It’s kinda soon in our relationship for me to spend the night with you.”

  There. She’d said it. And she hadn’t even blushed.

  There was something special happening here, between her and Ethan. She wasn’t going to derail it by having sex with the guy before there was a stronger emotional bond. That road was a dead end, a lesson she’d learned well in her past.

  The stakes were higher now that people might know they were a new couple. Any blip on the radar of her love life made it straight onto the airwaves or the Internet. Usually both ad nauseam. One false move, one wrong step, and she would never live the humiliation down. She didn’t want to jump the gun with Ethan only to become more fodder for tabloid journalists.

  His past was another reason. It seemed as though his history was littered with one-night stands and she wasn’t about to add her name to that list. She needed more time to figure out her own feelings and hope he learned to feel something for her in return.

  Hands on his hips, he glared at her.

  Wishing she could read his mind, she slid across the seat and left the truck to stand in front of him. “I should go.” A yawn tried to slip out, but she did her damnedest to try to smother it. The yawn won anyway.

  “You’re staying here,” he insisted. “To sleep. And that’s all.”

  Before she could argue, he swept her into his arms and marched to the back door.

  She had to admit, the man was talented. He was able to get the door open without putting her down, then he carried her straight to a bedroom—his from the looks of it. Then he set her on her feet. With his back to her, he rustled through the closet before turning around and tossing her a flannel shirt. “You can wear this if you don’t want to sleep in your clothes.” There was no mistaking the hard edge to his voice.

  Holding it to her chest, Chelsea knit her brows. “Why are you so angry?”

  “Gee, I wonder why…You made it quite clear that you wanna haul ass getting out of here. I promise I won’t lay a finger on you.”

  So that was it. His pride was bruised because she’d insisted it was too soon to make love. He thought she didn’t want him.

  She’d have to show him otherwise.

  After tossing the shirt on the bed, she went to stand directly in front of him. “Ethan?”

  Looking down at her, he cocked a brown eyebrow.

  “C’mere.” Circling her arms around his neck, she kissed him, letting loose all the desire the man inspired in her.

  Afraid he’d be stiff with anger, she smiled against his lips when his passion seemed to ignite. He wrapped her in his embrace and pulled her hard against him.

  There would never be a time she’d tire of his taste or how the light scent of his cologne seemed to fill her senses. His tongue teased hers, enticing it to follow into his mouth where he gently grasped the tip with his teeth and tugged.

  Ethan’s hands covered her backside, lifting until their groins aligned, and at the moment, Chelsea was ready to abandon her earlier request that they wait until they knew each other better.

  Surprisingly, he pulled back first. “Get some sleep.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “The couch.”

  “Why not here? With me?”

  “I thought you said…”

  “We could just snuggle,” she admitted. “Unless you think that flannel shirt will make me far too sexy to resist.” Then she winked.

  He grinned. “It might, but I’ll behave. Let me go check the locks. You get changed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Chelsea jerked off her shirt and bra, tossing them on the wooden rocking chair that sat in the corner. The shirt he’d given her was so soft, she sighed when it brushed her skin. She peeled off her jeans and left them next to her other clothes. Turning back the sheets, she crawled into bed, socks on her cold feet.

  His scent was on the pillow, so she rubbed her cheek against the fabric and closed her eyes, weary and ready to rest.

  * * *

  She was sound asleep, hugging his pillow.

  Why did it seem so right to see Chelsea in his bed?

  Ethan shook that thought aside, yawning the same way she’d been doing before he’d insisted she stay. Dragging his shirt over his head, he shoved it in the hamper. After tossing aside all the junk in his pockets, he stripped off his jeans and socks, lamenting the hole where his big toe had been sticking out. The raggedy socks joined the shirt in the hamper.

  Wearing only his boxers, he slid between the sheets to join Chelsea. Her back was to him, which made it convenient to roll to his side and haul her up against him. Fitting his thighs to hers and slipping his arms around her waist, he set his chin on the top of her head and breathed in the scent of flowers.

  Shampoo? Perfume?

  Didn’t matter. She smelled wonderful. Enticing.

  They fit together quite well, in his opinion.

  She let out a sleepy sigh and wiggled her backside against his already semi-hard cock.

  She might be able to get a good night’s sleep with him snuggling her, but the more his mind wandered down the road of erotic thoughts, the more Ethan realized sleep would be elusive.

  He wanted her too damn much.

  * * *

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” Ethan coaxed. “I’ve got lunch in bed for you.”

  His voice pierced the haze of Chelsea’s sleepy thoughts. A bit disoriented, she rolled toward him. “You mean breakfast in bed.”

  A warm
chuckle slipped from his lips. “No, I mean lunch. It’s almost one.”

  “One?” Her gaze darted about the room, trying to find a clock. “Seriously?”

  “Hope you like pancakes,” he said, coming to the bed. He held a wooden tray full of food that smelled so good it set her stomach to growling.

  “Love ’em, although I probably shouldn’t eat so many carbs.”

  “What?”

  “I’m trying to limit carbs,” she explained as she stuffed the pillow behind her and leaned back against the headboard. “I’m a little too chunky.”

  Ethan let out a derisive snort.

  “I am! I can’t stand to see myself on video lately. Stupid camera adds twenty pounds in my case.”

  “You look great on video,” he insisted.

  “I look like Jabba the Hutt,” she said, mostly teasing. The women in her family were uber-curvy, and she’d resigned herself to being exactly what she was. A girl with big boobs, full hips, and a booty. Whenever her clothes got a little too tight, she’d simply stop sugar and bread and drop a few pounds. But there was no way in hell she’d ever be anything but curvy, not unless she starved herself. No way would she do that.

  Skinny was for other girls.

  “I like you just the way you are,” Ethan said.

  All she could do was sit and stare at him. Was this man for real? “Did you steal that line from Bridget Jones’s Diary?”

  His brows gathered. “I don’t know any Bridget Jones, and I sure as hell have never read her diary.” He set the tray down so the wooden legs straddled her thighs. “Eat. Fuck the carbs.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man could cook. That much was plain the moment she put the first bite of syrup-covered pancake into her mouth.

  “So…” Sitting near the end of the bed, Ethan laid a hand on her shin. “I was hoping you might want to go to Brad and Savannah’s wedding with me.”

  Between bites, Chelsea said, “They barely know me.”

  “It was Brad’s idea.”

  “Really?” While Brad and Savannah had been nothing but welcoming at their home, she didn’t want to intrude on their special day. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I mean, if the paparazzi knows I’m there…it would ruin their wedding.”

  “Got that covered. It’s two weeks from now on an island down in Georgia. Some resort that specializes in destination weddings or something. Figured we could all do some exploring before the rehearsal.”

  Her appetite fled. “I can’t go to some touristy place without a lot of planning. I’d get mobbed.”

  “Brad rented out all the rooms. There won’t be anyone on the grounds who isn’t an invited guest.”

  “That part sounds wonderful,” she said. “But…that exploring you’re talking about? That might have to get nixed. Like I said, I hate getting mobbed when I’m recognized. Spoils everything.”

  “Fine. No exploring then. Just sitting by the pool all by ourselves, drinking fruity drinks, and catching some rays.”

  “Which airline?” she asked. “Would there be a first-class seat still available on such short notice? I can’t sit coach, not unless—”

  “You don’t want to get mobbed,” he drawled, the humor clear in his tone. “It’s a charter. No worries.”

  “Wow. Then a trip to their wedding sounds like heaven.” An incoming call ended that topic. Chelsea checked the ID. “Hi, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday.”

  “I was a little worried,” Betsy’s voice buzzed in her ear. “I’ll admit I’ve gotten used to talking to you every day.”

  Ethan gave Chelsea a nod and then left the room, probably to give her a little privacy.

  “I went to a cookout after the show last night.”

  “A cookout? Where?”

  “I went with Ethan Walker to one of his friend’s houses.”

  “Ethan Walker? I thought you were angry at him.”

  “Not angry,” Chelsea said. “We’ve gotten to know each other a little better, and…well, I like him, Mom.”

  “Like him? Are you two dating?” Betsy asked, her tone concerned. “I can’t imagine how the press will take that.”

  “We’re trying to keep it out of the press.”

  Her mother let out a scoffing laugh. “Good luck with that, sweetheart.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s not gonna be easy, but we both want to keep things as private as possible.”

  “So when do I get to meet him?”

  Chelsea wasn’t at all sure that her relationship with Ethan had reached the meet-the-mother stage. “Soon.”

  “In other words, not yet.” Betsy chuckled. “You’re both welcome to come for a visit anytime you want.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A week later, Chelsea finally got away from the recording studio long enough to spend some quality time with Ethan. They’d talked and texted, but she’d missed him more than she thought possible after knowing each other for such a short time. After four days apart, they’d snatched enough time to have some lunch at Words & Music, but she craved being able to be with him for longer than an hour at a time.

  Now, she walked at Ethan’s side as he led Hamlet to one of the riding paddocks. The fact he was going to try to saddle break her horse weighed heavily.

  If he got hurt…

  She reminded herself that Ethan was an experienced horseman and that Hamlet was the sweetest gelding. She’d ridden the horse bareback more than once. When she’d visited the barn the day before, Ethan had placed the beautiful saddle on Hamlet’s back and tightened the cinch. The animal hadn’t even twitched in response.

  When they reached the corral, Chelsea wasn’t surprised to see Savannah sitting on the top fence rail. “You came to watch.”

  “I did,” Savannah said with a smile. “Right after I dropped Caroline off at my parents’ house. Didn’t want to miss the show.”

  While Savannah might be eager about seeing Ethan do something considered exciting, Chelsea stressed over the danger. Even worse, once he saddle broke Hamlet, he had plans to do the same for a horse that one of his other owners had purchased a few days ago. Thankfully, Chelsea wouldn’t have to endure any more than two ordeals today. Savannah’s gelding had been ridden with saddle before it came to the barn.

  Chelsea closed the paddock gate behind them and hurried to the fence to climb up and sit next to Savannah. Ethan led Hamlet to where Joe waited, holding a lasso. The man fiddled with it as if he knew how to use it. No doubt it was a precaution if Ethan got thrown and Joe needed to catch Hamlet.

  While Ethan talked with Joe, Chelsea turned to Savannah. “This shouldn’t be a big thing, right? I mean, Hamlet lets me ride him bareback. A saddle shouldn’t be much of a change, right?”

  “You’re worried?” There was a teasing lilt to Savannah’s voice.

  Chelsea replied with a brusque nod.

  “I’m sure Ethan knows what he’s doing.”

  “I’m just not in the mood to drive him to the hospital.”

  Savannah let out a chuckle. “I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re worried about. Look at it this way, at least Joslynn’s working the ER tonight. She’ll be happy to patch him right up. Knowing Ethan, even if he broke a bone, he wouldn’t let you get him help right away. He’d sit around and try to tough it out first. You know the ‘be a man’ stuff guys always try to pull.”

  “Most of the men I’ve known are big babies,” Chelsea said.

  “They are. But complaining about aches and pains is a lot different from getting treated. They usually bitch and moan but refuse any help offered. Besides, he wouldn’t want to look like a wuss in front of you.”

  When Ethan glanced over his shoulder, Chelsea tried her damnedest to give him an encouraging smile.

  He was a handsome devil, something even more apparent when he wore leather chaps over his faded jeans. Those long-fingered hands were covered by well-used gloves and his cowboy hat made him look even taller. Most women would be drooling at the masculinity he exu
ded.

  She practically was.

  Two fingers to the brim of his hat, he saluted the women. Then he waited while Joe took a firm hold of Hamlet’s bridle and nodded. Reins in hand, Ethan gripped the pommel and swiftly and smoothly got onto the saddle.

  What she’d feared would be a traumatic ordeal ended up being a nonevent. Hamlet didn’t so much as twitch. After Ethan was in the saddle, the horse turned his head as though checking who was on his back. Seeing it was one of the men who took good care of him must have put him at ease, because all Hamlet did was stand there.

  Joe led Hamlet to the middle of the paddock and then turned the horse loose. With gently prodding from Ethan, Hamlet started walking. A little more nudging from Ethan’s heels and soon Hamlet was trotting around the large oval, following the fence line. As Ethan trotted past, he tipped his hat while they applauded.

  After a good thirty minutes of putting Hamlet through his paces, Ethan trotted the horse back up to Joe, who took the bridle and held tight while Ethan swung down from the saddle. Together, they walked to the gate, Ethan opening it to let Joe lead Hamlet back to the barn.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Savannah said to Chelsea. “I need to hit a bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  After Savannah crawled down from the top rail, Chelsea said, “Don’t be gone long. The next one’s not supposed to be as easy.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Savannah replied. “I’ll hurry.”

  With a cocky cowboy swagger, Ethan came over to where Chelsea stared down at him from the fence. “Told you it would be fine.”

  She smiled, not at all surprised at the pride in his voice. “Are you saying you told me so?”

  “I am.”

  “Fine, you were right. But…there’s one more animal for you to break. Maybe he’ll get the better of you.”

  “There’s yet to be a horse that gets the better of me,” Ethan said. “Where’s Savannah?”