The Way to a Cowboy's Heart

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  She noticed he hadn’t responded to the question about family, but she’d leave that for now. She laid her cheek on his chest as if she’d been doing it for years. He was so easy to be with. “And now you have a friend in Nebraska.”

  “I sure hope so.” He kissed the top of her head. “Of course, one of these days you’ll marry some great guy, so our friendship will have to change and become strictly platonic, but I’d like to think we could still be in touch.”

  Being platonic friends with Matthew was a very depressing thought. “Or you could end up getting married.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Are you sure?” She listened to the steady beat of his heart. It was such a loving heart that she found it impossible to imagine he’d be satisfied with temporary affairs forever.

  “I don’t see how I can ask a woman to make that kind of sacrifice.” He stroked her hair. “I love my work, and I love the places it takes me. I can’t ask anyone to trail along after me trying to piece together a life that fits with mine.”

  “What if she’s into horses, like you are?” Why she was trying to hook him up with someone was a mystery, except that his plan seemed so... lonely.

  “She’d have to be committed to helping problem horses, love to travel, and be willing to abandon the idea of a home and kids. Oh, and we’d have to be wildly attracted to each other. That’s not an easy person to find.”

  “I suppose not.” She snuggled closer. “But you deserve someone, Matthew, someone wonderful.”

  “At this very moment, I have someone wonderful right here.”

  “I mean fulltime, for the long run.”

  He chuckled. “Ready to hit the road with me, Aurelia?”

  “I’d be a terrible choice. I’m not a traveler at all.”

  “You said that when we first met, and I’m still not all that clear on why.”

  She shrugged. “I come from a long line of non-travelers. We’re all perfectly happy to stay close to home. It’s amazing that my Aunt Mary Lou came as far as Jackson Hole.”

  “Hm.” Matthew rubbed her back. “So what’s your aunt doing off on a cruise through the Panama Canal, then?”

  “Her new husband talked her into it, I guess, but I predict she’ll hate it.”

  “Well, even if she does, I owe her a lot for taking a honeymoon cruise that required a replacement cook, and I’m very glad you were willing to leave the state of Nebraska for three weeks to fill in here.”

  “Me, too.” When she’d arrived, three weeks had seemed like a long time. Not anymore, especially now that she’d started this affair with Matthew. “How much longer are you planning to stay at the Last Chance?”

  He laughed softly. “I like that question. It sounds like you want me to stick around awhile.”

  “That’s because I do.”

  “The Chance family paid me a flat fee plus room and board, which is the only fair way for me to do my job, because I never know how much time the training will take.”

  She thought about the progress he’d made already. “You seem to be moving right along with Houdini.”

  “He’s doing very well. I’d say I’m ahead of schedule with him.”

  Her stomach tightened. “So you might leave soon?”

  “It’s possible I could finish up in another three or four days, but I have a feeling this project will take me longer than that. I want to make sure I do a thorough job.”

  The knot in her tummy loosened. “It’s probably better for Houdini, if you take your time.”

  He rolled her to her back. “I’m not talking about training Houdini.” He nuzzled her throat. “I’m talking about loving you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Matthew fell easily into a routine of working with Houdini and the kids during the day and spending every night with Aurelia. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her ripe body. Climbing into bed with her, he dropped ten years and became a sex-mad twenty-something again.

  Her enthusiasm had something to do with it. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she’d never had sex this good before and wanted to take advantage of their brief time together. He felt the same way. If sex had ever been this good for him, he couldn’t remember when.

  He’d also admitted to himself that having her cook for him was a turn-on. Maybe she didn’t cook specifically for him, but because he helped her plan the menus, he felt as if she prepared everything with him in mind. A curvy woman who provided great sex and great food touched some deep need that he hadn’t realized he had.

  And finally, he liked hanging out with her in the kitchen and the bedroom while they play-acted a domesticity he never expected to have on a regular basis. He’d given up pretending to live in the bunkhouse while he was here. The cowhands had encouraged him to move his stuff to Aurelia’s bedroom and take advantage of a good situation.

  But he still hung out at the bunkhouse for a couple of hours around dinner time so he could eat with the guys and play a few hands of poker. He’d taken his turn at cooking and found himself in Aurelia’s shoes when he realized how much he wanted the cowhands to like the goulash he’d made. He needed to give her more credit for her courage.

  He liked being with the cowhands, plus it meant he wasn’t at the main house for dinner with the kids. They hadn’t said anything, but being smart and observant, they had to know what was going on. They were good kids, but they wouldn’t be able to resist sly looks and winks if he came to dinner every night. He’d rather avoid that, both for Aurelia’s sake and his.

  He’d taken his duffle full of clothes to Aurelia’s room, though, and his laptop. He’d fallen into the habit of sitting in the suede easy chair to answer email right after lunch. Better that than at night, when he’d rather be doing other things, but he couldn’t let his business go to hell in a handbasket.

  During one of his sessions on the laptop, he checked out a blog link a friend had sent him. A horse trainer had decided blogging was a good way to advertise his services, and Matthew realized it wasn’t a bad idea. He wasn’t sure if he had the time or patience, but he’d give it some thought.

  Aurelia came into the bedroom about the time he was ready to close down the computer. He had to be careful when they were alone during the day, because she tempted him, and they both had work to do. His discipline was tested constantly, but so far he’d kept his life at the ranch compartmentalized.

  He glanced up, smiling because he couldn’t help it whenever he saw her. The day was warm and she’d worn her hair on top of her head. That, plus her white sleeveless blouse and beige capris, made her look like summer. He had a sudden image of hot, sweaty sex, but that was a normal mental picture whenever she was around.

  He controlled himself. “Lunch was great. They took to that spinach soufflé better than I expected they would.”

  “Thanks to you, teaching me to prep them first so they wouldn’t take one look and think baked frog. Did you get all your emails answered?”

  “I did. A friend thinks I should start blogging about horse training.”

  Her green eyes lit up. “That’s a wonderful idea! I read cooking blogs when I’m at home, and I miss doing that, but I decided not to bring a laptop and I don’t want to borrow Sarah’s.”

  He held his out. “Feel free to use mine whenever you want. It’s the least I can do.”

  That made her laugh. She looked so pretty when she laughed that it caused a curious tightness in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive without that laugh at the end of next week, when they’d both leave the ranch.

  “If you’re worried about earning your keep, don’t,” she said. “I’ve been more than compensated for sharing my living quarters with you.”

  “I hope so, because I’ve... I’ve really liked being here.”

  “You’re a considerate guest. Your parents must have—” She paused, her cheeks turning pink. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t pry into your family background. Sarah says you never talk about it.” She looked more uncom
fortable than he’d ever seen her. “Sorry.”

  “Hey.” Setting the laptop aside, he stood and took her by the shoulders. “It’s a natural comment to make. Don’t feel bad about it.”

  “But I didn’t mean—”

  “Here’s the digest version. My mother died when I was seven and my father passed away a few years ago, still brokenhearted over my mom. I’m one of those people who literally have no family connections, so that’s why I don’t talk about it. Nothing to say.”

  She gazed up at him, her eyes full of sympathy.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Aurelia. I’m fine. We usually don’t get all the goodies in life, and I have work that I love. That’s more than many can say.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. But thanks for telling me that about your folks. I won’t spread it around.”

  “I know you won’t. It wouldn’t really matter if you did, except sometimes people think they should feel sorry for me, and they shouldn’t. I’m a lucky man.” He massaged her shoulders. “And now I’d better get down to the barn before I end up kissing you.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “We both know we can’t stop with just one.”

  “I’m going to test that.” He allowed himself one fast and furious kiss that tasted like heaven. Because he was no angel, he quickly left the bedroom without looking back. It was the only way he could control his lust for the potent combination of sweet and sexy that was Aurelia Imogene Smith.

  On the way out, he raised his fist in victory so that she could see, and her laughter followed him. Yeah, he was going to miss that like crazy.

  The calendar became Aurelia’s enemy. A large one hung on the kitchen wall and it was quite attractive with its pictures of registered Paint horses. She ignored it as best she could.

  When she was in Matthew’s arms, thoughts of the calendar would disappear for hours. But then he’d leave in the morning to work with Houdini, and she’d catch a glimpse of that damned wall calendar in the kitchen and realize how few days of paradise remained. Every night they seemed so close, as if nothing could separate them. But the calendar would wrench them apart eventually, and she hated it with a passion.

  When they only had six days left, Matthew arrived at his usual time after dinner in a jubilant mood. He always looked really glad to see her, but tonight as she set him up at the table with the fondue she’d served for dinner, he kept grinning at her as if he had a Christmas present in his pocket.

  “What’s with you?” she asked as she placed a bowl of cut veggies and another one of cubed beef in front of him. “You look like you won the lottery.”

  “I figured out how you can reach a wider audience with your cooking skills.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you want me to try out for some cooking competition, you can forget that right now. That’s not me.”

  “I know that. But what I came up with is perfect for you. You’re pretty and personable, so you could—”

  “Cook in front of an audience? Not on your life!” She brought two glasses and a bottle of wine to the table and sat across from him.

  “I wouldn’t ask you to do that, either. But what do you say to writing a cooking blog?”

  At first she automatically rejected the idea. “No, I don’t think...” But before she’d completed the sentence, she’d paused and started thinking about it. Anybody could start a blog, which meant that she could start one, too. If nobody came, then she could give it up. The risk was minimal, the potential fun great.

  If people started reading her blog the way she read others, she could share her cooking experiences and learn from those who came to chat. And best of all, she wouldn’t have to go anywhere to do it. All she needed was her laptop and a little help from a techie friend to create the blog site.

  Matthew looked pleased with himself. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” He poured them each some wine.

  “Maybe.”

  “You are. I can tell from the sparkle in those beautiful green eyes. There are all sorts of things going on in your noggin.”

  “Okay, yes. The more I think about it, the more I like it. It’s...” She smiled at him. “Brilliant, Matthew. Pure genius. Will you read it?”

  He laughed and raised his glass in a toast. “I’ll read yours if you’ll read mine.”

  “You’re going to blog?” What a happy little thought. After he left, he’d only be a mouse click away. Sure, it wouldn’t be the same, but they’d have a connection and she’d be able to keep up with his travels. Whenever he was nearby, she could invite him for the weekend.

  “I decided it couldn’t hurt.” Using a long-handled fork, he put some veggies in the hot broth. “And while I was thinking how I’d set it up, I got the brainstorm that you could do the same thing with cooking.”

  “Yours will be a hit. Your readers of Think Like a Horse will flock to it.” Although she hadn’t told him, she’d ordered the book, but it hadn’t arrived yet. Sarah had loaned her a copy and she’d managed to snatch moments here and there to read a few pages.

  “We’ll see.” He pulled chunks of carrots and zucchini out of the broth and started cooking the cubed beef. “I’m thinking of writing another book aimed at kids. I could promote that, too.”

  “Another brilliant idea.” In her admittedly prejudiced opinion, he’d write a great book for kids. His positive attitude toward animals, people, and life in general shone through his first book, and one aimed at kids likely would have the same can-do spirit.

  “I can thank Lester for that project,” he said as he began to eat. “I hadn’t really planned to work the teenagers into Houdini’s training, but Lester showed up and suddenly it seemed like the most logical thing in the world.”

  “You realize that Lester thinks you’re a rock star.”

  Matthew paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “He’ll get over it.”

  “I don’t think so.” She was dangerously close to feeling the same way about Matthew.

  “I admire Lester, too, and I’ve told him so. All the kids are pretty amazing considering the obstacles they’ve faced in life.”

  “Very true.”

  “They’ve also taught me a lot.” He paused to sip some wine. “They react differently to the horses than most adults do. They have fewer preconceived ideas about how to work with them and they’re... I don’t know... unselfconscious, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” He pointed to the fondue pot. “This is really good, by the way.”

  “Thank you. Would you tell me if it wasn’t?”

  He held her gaze, his expression warm and happy. “Probably not.”

  “So I can’t believe what you say? That’s no help.”

  “You can always believe what I say. If I don’t mention that the food’s good, then I’m not crazy about it, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Everybody has stuff they don’t like.”

  Folding her arms on the table, she pinned him with a look. “Name one thing. I haven’t found a single dish yet that you actually said you didn’t care for.”

  “I’m not wild about anything with prunes in it.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “After my mom died, my dad took over the kitchen and started reading up on vitamins in food and what people should and shouldn’t eat. I think he figured that it was up to him to keep me alive by making sure I ate right.”

  Her heart ached for the seven-year-old boy and his earnest father, who had probably been a young man, himself, maybe even younger than Matthew was now. “I assume he was a big fan of prunes.”

  “Oh, yeah. We ate them out of the box, and we ate them stewed. We ate them cut up on cereal, and I think once he mixed them into the meatloaf. That was the only time I wouldn’t eat what he put in front of me, and he finally admitted maybe prunes didn’t go so well in meatloaf.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I vowed when I moved out that given a choice in the matter, I’d never eat another prune.”

  “Don’t blame you.”

  He ate quietly for a few m
inutes before glancing up at her. “I’ve never told anyone about my dad and the prunes. It feels good to talk about him. Thanks for listening.”

  “My pleasure.” She longed to go over and wrap her arms around him, but that might be interpreted as feeling sorry for him. She didn’t, but it was a tender and private little story and she felt closer to him because he’d told it.

  “I feel more relaxed here than I have in a long time.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Part of it’s the ranch house, and specifically this kitchen, but most of it is you.”

  At the honest respect in his eyes, warmth spread through her, and this time it had less to do with sex and more to do with a deepening friendship. “That’s a very nice thing to say.”

  “It’s true. You have a nurturing, calming presence that I’ve cherished from the first day we met.”

  “And here I thought you were hot for my body.”

  “I was. I am. But I also like just being with you, sitting across the table talking about things.”

  “I love hearing that.” She sighed. “I feel the same, which means it’s going to be hell when we have to say goodbye in six days.”

  “Six days? Is that all?”

  She gestured to the wall calendar. “You can count them for yourself. Aunt Mary Lou and Watkins come back on Saturday afternoon, and my plane leaves Sunday. I’m due back at work Monday morning.”

  “I don’t know why I thought we had more time.”

  She smiled. “Wishful thinking?”

  “That would be it.” He planted both hands on the table and pushed himself upright. “In that case, we need a little less talk and a lot more action around here.”

  She drained her wineglass and stood, too. “Did you have something specific in mind?” She knew exactly what he had in mind, but she loved teasing him.

  He carried the dishes to the sink. “Yeah, I thought we’d play cards.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” He loaded everything in the dishwasher. “I carry a deck in my duffle bag, and I’ve been practicing my card shark skills in the bunkhouse every night, so I think I’m ready to challenge you to a game.”