Bachelor Cowboy

by Roxann Delaney

  She stopped the tractor and climbed off to grab a jug of water she’d left at the edge of the field. Aggie and Trish had gone into Desperation, prompting Kate to do something, anything, to keep her mind off unpleasant memories. It didn’t seem to be working, because the argument with Dusty the night before kept running through her mind.

  None of them had heard from him after she’d told him to leave them all alone. She had been harsh and bordering on cruel, she knew, but at the time she’d felt like a wounded animal and had struck out in defense. When she’d gone home, licking her wounds, Aunt Aggie had noticed something was wrong, but hadn’t asked any questions.

  Kate just wanted to be left alone. She already missed Dusty, but she was too proud to apologize. Doing so wouldn’t help the situation, only prolong it.

  As she started to climb on the machine, she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle over the drone of the tractor. Shading her eyes with her hand, she turned to look. Her stomach turned a somersault when she saw Dusty’s pickup turning into the drive. She watched as he stopped and climbed out, striding toward the edge of the field where she waited, too surprised to move.

  “I want to talk to you,” he shouted.

  Her heart pounded and her hands shook as she forced herself to move and climbed onto the tractor, pretending she hadn’t heard him. She needed to buy some time to get herself under control. She couldn’t let him know that in less than a day she was already missing him.

  “Get over here, Kate, or I’ll have to drag you off that tractor,” he bellowed as he started across the field toward her. “Come on, Kate. We need to talk.”

  Her gaze took in every inch of him. From his sandy brown hair to the scuffed toes of his boots, he looked wonderful. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet.

  Ignoring him, she shoved the tractor into gear and popped the clutch, lurching forward. Tears stung her eyes. If only she hadn’t let her temper and her pride get the best of her. She could love him until the day she died, and she knew she probably would. But she couldn’t take the risk of loving and losing him. It was better this way.

  With her vision blurred by tears, she didn’t notice how far she’d gone. She could see him running beside the tractor, shouting and waving his arms, and she still ignored him. It wasn’t until she saw the far edge of the field coming up that she realized she was in trouble. Past it, the ground took a steep drop, ending several yards below in the creek. With the rain they’d had in the spring, and the recent thunderstorm, the water was deep. The last time she’d looked, only days before, it ran swiftly, the current racing.

  Knowing she had little time to slow down to turn before she and the tractor would go over the edge, she slammed on the brakes. But the machine didn’t even slow down. Panic rose in her throat. She looked at Dusty, who was desperately trying to keep up with her on foot, and she froze in terror. Even if the tractor survived the fall, she wouldn’t.

  “Stop the tractor!” she heard him shout. “Kate! Stop!”

  “I can’t!” she screamed.

  “The brakes! Hit the brakes!”

  The edge of the field was within sight, no more than fifty feet away. At the speed she was going, it would be only seconds before she and the tractor plunged into the creek.

  “Kate! Jump!” she heard him yell.

  Peeling her gaze from the edge, she saw him gaining on the tractor. “I can’t!”

  “Damn it, Kate. Jump!”

  Without thinking, she leapt from the seat, blessedly avoiding the rotating rear tire, and crashed into him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rolling with her, Dusty held tight, his arms locked around Kate as they tumbled away from the tractor and finally came to a stop. He watched as the machine rolled down the ravine into the creek. Beneath him, Kate lay still. He freed his arm from beneath her, and his hand shook as he brushed away the dirt and hair covering her face.

  “We made it, hon. The tractor didn’t, but we did,” he told her with a weak laugh.

  Kate didn’t respond.

  Dusty’s chest closed on his next breath. “Kate, honey, please answer me.”

  She was so pale that the freckles across her nose and cheeks stood out like stars on a clear December night. Forcing himself to take a breath, he eased his other arm from beneath her and caressed her near-white cheek, urging her to open her eyes.

  “Look at me, Kate. Open your eyes and look at me,” he coaxed. When she still didn’t respond, terror clogged his throat. Not knowing what else to do, he checked her pulse and found it beating, slowly and evenly. He then checked her arms and legs for broken bones. Finding none, he prayed it wasn’t her neck or back. Or a concussion. He knew how dangerous that could be.

  Even in his panic he knew she should have medical attention, and he reached for his cell phone in his pocket. It was gone. Somehow he had lost it, either while chasing through the field or rolling with her on the ground.

  He could use the phone in the house, but he hated leaving her lying there alone, so he checked her one more time and found a small cut on the back of her arm. As he wiped the bit of warm, sticky blood from his fingers onto his jeans, she moved.

  “Kate, I’m here, hon. Open your eyes.”

  “Dusty?” she whispered and moved as if trying to sit up.

  “Be still,” he told her.

  “I’m all right,” she said, struggling.

  With his hands on her shoulders, he gently kept her from sitting. “Let’s make sure you’re okay first.”

  “Dusty, I’m—”

  “Please,” he begged, holding her in place. If anything was wrong with her—He refused to think about it, but only when she relented did he let go of her. “Do you hurt anywhere? Is there any pain?”

  “No. I told you, I’m all right.”

  A frown drew her brows down, and he couldn’t tell if it was from pain or from something else. “Move your right leg,” he instructed.

  “Oh, for the love of—”

  “Kate,” he cut her off, none too nicely. “Just this once, do what I say and don’t argue with me.”

  With a sigh devoid of patience, Kate moved her leg.

  “Now the other.”

  She moved it and grimaced with pain. “My ankle. I think I twisted it.”

  Dusty nodded. “Okay. We can deal with that. Now, move your arms, one at a time.”

  She did as he directed.

  “Good. How’s your head?”

  Before he could stop her, she sat up in one quick motion and grabbed her head. “Ohhhh,” she groaned.

  Dusty grinned at her, but he was still shaken. “Yeah, that’s what it’s like.”

  She glanced at him, and then looked around. “Where’s the tractor?”

  “Having a bath,” he answered as he carefully helped her to stand. Once she was on her feet, he scooped her into his arms.

  “I can walk,” she insisted.

  “You can limp,” he corrected.

  “Then let me limp.”

  He looked down at her. “Nope. I’m going to take you up to the house. Are Aggie and Trish home?”

  “They went to visit friends in the city.”

  “Aggie must have built-in radar,” he said, chuckling.

  “Meaning?”

  “I wanted to spend some time with you,” he explained. “Alone.”

  “Oh.”

  He’d come to tell her he was leaving soon, but it would wait until later, when he was sure she was okay. Until then, he would try to make her comfortable and hope there was nothing wrong with her that wouldn’t easily and quickly heal.

  They’d reached the porch without Dusty noticing how far they’d come. She felt so good in his arms that he didn’t think he could ever let her go. But that, he knew, wasn’t going to happen.

  “Maybe I should take you into town to see the doctor,” he said, worried about the amount of time she’d been unconscious.

  “I told you, I’m all right,” she insisted. “Now, if you’ll just put me down, I’ll cle
an up and go check on the tractor.”

  “Can’t,” he said when they came to the door. Turning the knob, he shoved the door open with his shoulder and carried her through the kitchen and into the hall. “Where’s your room?”

  “My bedroom?” she asked.

  There was something in her voice that made his blood race and his heart pound. Or maybe it was just hearing her say the word bedroom. Instead of answering, he nodded.

  “Why?”

  That stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t his intention to do anything more than make sure she was comfortable and wait for her family to return. But images of her lying on a bed, her coppery hair fanned out on a pillow, burst into his mind. It took every ounce of control he had to erase them so he could answer her.

  “For one thing, you’ll be more comfortable, and for another, you need to keep that foot elevated.” She nodded her understanding, and he smiled, hoping it wasn’t anything near leering. “Your bedroom is upstairs?” he asked, nodding toward the stairs.

  “First door on the right.”

  Without hesitating, he carried her to the stairs and up them to the room she’d indicated. Placing her on the bed, he turned.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

  “I’m going to get some ice for your ankle,” he explained.

  “Dusty, my ankle will be fine. See?” She stood, placing her weight on both feet, and immediately moaned, as her knees buckled.

  He caught her and held her. Even after her accident and roll in the plowed field, she still smelled like spring rain. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and holding it in his memory. Her heart thudded against his chest, and her breathing quickened. Noticing how his own body responded from having her so close, he gently released her and sat her on the edge of the bed.

  “Maybe we’d better get your boot off before it has to be cut off.” Even he heard the husky quality in his voice. This wasn’t the time. He looked up to smile, hoping she hadn’t noticed, and she smiled in return, her gaze never leaving his. Kneeling on one knee in front of her, he pulled as gently as he could. By the look on her face, he could tell that even being gentle hurt her. “You need that ice,” he said and moved to stand.

  “Dusty?”

  Looking up, he saw the indecision in her eyes.

  “Why are you here?”

  Unable to drag his gaze from hers, his mouth went dry and the words he had meant to say stuck in his throat. This wasn’t how he’d planned it. He’d wanted to take her for a long drive until the sun began to set, find a quiet place to stop, turn on the radio to some soft music and tell her—He’d tell her he was leaving. Now it didn’t seem like such a great idea.

  “There’s straw in your hair,” he managed to say, reaching up to take it out. But the moment his hand brushed her cheek, he lost control. He moved closer until his lips met hers. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it was impossible to stop, now that he’d started. She was in control now, not him.

  KATE WAS STILL SHAKEN from her wild ride and the tumble from the tractor, but at the touch of Dusty’s lips on hers, she knew she couldn’t stop him. She didn’t want to. It was crazy for her to want someone so badly when she knew it would lead her nowhere, but she couldn’t stop. And it scared her.

  Her fear soon evaporated in a mist of need as his gentle kiss changed to a passionate exploration. She wanted more, but she didn’t know how to let him know. Even at twenty-six she admitted she was naive, but she was willing to learn. Very willing.

  When he ended the kiss before she was ready for him to, she was afraid she had done something wrong. She searched his face for clues of what she might have done, but other than signs of a passion she was unfamiliar with, she saw nothing.

  He moved away, lingering a brief moment to brush his fingers along her cheek. “I think I’d better get that ice, before your ankle swells even more.”

  “It’ll be fine.” She wished he would stay and kiss her again, but he was out the door before she could do anything.

  And just how was she supposed to let him know that she might be ready for one of the most important steps in her adult life? She thought she was ready, and if he’d only kiss her again, there was a strong possibility doubt would completely vanish.

  Left alone to ponder the situation, she glanced around the room. Seeing it the way he might see it, she realized it hadn’t grown up with her. It was still the room of a teenager, complete with a Desperation Dragons pennant on the wall and a bulletin board full of memorabilia. But she wasn’t that shy teenaged girl any longer. She’d grown into a fairly confident young woman who owned a business and was well respected by most people. She just didn’t know how to handle men.

  Why couldn’t she be more like her sister when it came to the opposite sex? Trish had never had a problem. Men had always flocked to her, but no one had seemed to be the one she wanted until the day Morgan had stopped them for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. She didn’t have any idea if Trish had been interested in him before that, but from that day on, there was no doubt that Trish believed Sheriff Morgan Rule was the one. Being the younger of the two, she had asked Trish how she knew what to say and do, and Trish had told her she simply trusted her instincts. Kate had snorted at the advice, saying she didn’t believe she’d been born with any, at least when it came to men.

  Trust your instincts.

  She could try….

  When she heard footsteps start up the stairs, panic hit her. Dusty had liked her in her dress at the Blue Barn, and he’d liked her hair down. She certainly didn’t have time to change into a dress or anything remotely similar, but she did have time to do something with her hair. Tugging off the elastic band that held what was left of her braid, she ran her fingers through the plaits to separate them. She could hear his footsteps in the hall and managed to grab a brush from the bedside table, run it through her hair once, toss it back in the drawer and hopefully look enticing…if that was possible.

  “We probably should try getting that boot—” Dusty stopped in the doorway and stared. “Kate.”

  “Hmm?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.” Moving again, he stopped at the side of her bed. “Your boot?”

  “Yes, let’s try again,” Kate agreed.

  He set the bag of ice on the floor and bent over, taking the heel of her boot in his hand. “Let me know if it hurts too much.”

  She concentrated on his head as he wiggled the boot on her foot. His light brown hair was still in need of a haircut and curled at the ends. Her fingers itched to touch it, but she wasn’t sure—

  Trust your instincts.

  Reaching out, she touched his temples and ran her fingers gently back through his hair. He gave a strangling sound and stopped moving the boot. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat but didn’t look up at her. “Yes. I think I’m about there.” His head jerked up and he stared at her for an instant, then he lowered his head just as quickly. “I mean, I think I’ve about got the boot off.”

  Kate smiled. Maybe she’d been born with instincts after all. Before she could try anything else, the boot came off her foot. “Ouch!”

  Off balance and with boot in hand, Dusty hit the floor. “Sorry,” he said. He grabbed the bag of ice and got to his feet. “Can you swing your legs onto the bed?”

  Could she? Leaning back on her hands, she was able to move one leg to the bed, but when she tried the other, her ankle screamed in pain. Biting her lip, she shook her head.

  “Then I’ll do it for you.” Touching her leg as if it were made of glass, he gently moved it onto the bed and placed the ice bag over her swollen ankle. “Better?”

  She turned her head to answer him and stared right at the area below his large belt buckle. Oh, my. Had she caused that? Slowly raising her gaze, she stopped at his face and understood what the phrase “smoldering eyes” meant.

  Trust your instincts.

  “Dusty?” she whispered.


  He leaned down, closer. “What do you need, Kate? What can I do?”

  He’d asked the perfect questions, and she knew she’d be a fool not to answer them honestly. Without speaking, she slipped her arms around his neck. She didn’t know how she knew to do it, but she pulled him down onto the bed with her. His lips touched her throat, his mouth blazing a trail of tastes and nibbles.

  She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up his body. He moved enough so she could slip it over his head, and then she tossed the shirt aside. Staring at his tanned, muscled chest, all inhibitions vanished, and her instincts took over completely. This time, it was the buttons on her own shirt she attacked, but Dusty brushed her hands aside. As the buttons came undone, his lips followed, and he slipped the edges of the fabric apart.

  Kate gasped when he cupped one breast and kissed through the filmy fabric of her bra. Thinking was impossible as need took over, but there was no need to think as together they finished the job and tossed their clothes to the floor.

  Easing onto the bed to lie beside her, he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “Now’s the time to say stop.” His voice was husky and dark like his eyes. “I can’t promise anything after this.”

  Shaking her head, her gaze never left his. “If I didn’t want this, it wouldn’t be happening.”

  With a low, rumbling groan, he pulled her on top of him, his hands touching and caressing her as his deep kiss possessed her. She pressed herself to him, instinct moving her hips in a slow rotation.

  When he smoothly rolled her to move her beneath him, she moaned his name. His mouth traveled every inch of her and more until she thought she would die with wanting. She lifted her hips, silently begging for what they both craved. Parting her legs, she felt him move to press against her. Their gazes fused as he slowly entered her, inch by agonizing inch.

  Her breath caught when he stopped, his eyes widening.

  “No,” he sighed, the disbelief in his eyes clear.

  When he started to move away, she held him with one word. “Please,” she begged.

  His eyes closed and his body tensed beneath her hands. “No, we’ll wait,” he said.