Cowboy Up

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I love him like a father, too. My father, in fact.”

  He wondered for the first time if she resented all the attention Emmett had devoted to him. “Point taken.”

  She gave him a brief nod, as if at least that much was settled. “Anyway, I don’t want to give any impression that I might want to live in Wyoming. To me, that would be crueler than being honest about my feelings. My mother gave him that kind of false hope, and I think he’s still hurting because of it.”

  Clay hated to admit it, but she had a point. He wished she loved ranching the way Emmett did, but if she didn’t, pretending could possibly do more damage. He took a deep breath. “You’re probably right. I apologize. I have no business sticking my nose in, anyway.”

  “Sure you do. You love him. And from the way he raves about you and your accomplishments, I think he loves you, too.”

  “He raves?”

  “Oh, yes. He brags about the way you carefully saved your money for tuition and then worked odd jobs while you took classes in Cheyenne. He was so proud of your grade point average, and when you got that scholarship, he mentioned it to me several times.”

  Clay gazed at her as his understanding grew. “It’s a wonder you don’t hate my guts.”

  “At times I have, although I don’t like admitting that. Besides, he was born to be a dad, and I haven’t given him much chance at that. Knowing you were here relieved my guilt feelings.”

  “Still, I’ll bet you got tired of hearing about my accomplishments.”

  She shrugged. “It’s hardly your fault that I’m not focused like you and can’t for the life of me figure out a career. My dad’s not likely to brag about my surfing ability, so that leaves him with nothing to boast about when it comes to his only child.”

  “Do you have a job?”

  “Of course I have a job. How do you think I support myself?”

  He decided not to mention that he’d been convinced she didn’t support herself, that she was living off the money Emmett sent her every month. She might not appreciate knowing that most everyone on the Last Chance knew he sent those checks and wondered why when he was no longer obligated financially. They all assumed Emily was living on that money, or at the very least, only working part-time to supplement his generosity.

  But her finances and her job situation were absolutely none of his business. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m out of line to have started this conversation in the first place, and we have a lot of work to do before your dad comes home. We should get going.” He started back down the hall.

  “Going where?” She lengthened her strides to keep up with him. “You still haven’t told me the plan.”

  Briefly he outlined the details of an old-fashioned cowboy cookout, with Watkins on the guitar, steaks on the fire, and beer on ice. He wondered if she’d find it hokey, but she responded with enthusiasm.

  “That sounds like so much fun! Sometimes we have bonfires on the beach and cookouts, too. Usually somebody plays music from their phone instead of having live music, but a guitar player sounds terrific. Will there be dancing?”

  “That’s an excellent question. Knowing the Chance family, there should be dancing.”

  “Yay! I love to dance. I… just realized that I have no idea if my dad dances or not. I should know that, shouldn’t I?”

  “Not if you’ve never been around when dancing was part of the program.” He reached the front door and opened it for her.

  “Thanks.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and smiled at him. “I’m enjoying all the gallantry around here.”

  “Sarah insists on it, and besides, it’s the cowboy way to show respect toward a woman.” He stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind him. That’s when he glanced out at the circular drive and noticed her convertible, top still down, leather upholstery exposed to the sun.

  He couldn’t stand it. “Do you have your car keys with you?”

  “No, but I can get them. Is my car in the way?”

  “You can leave it there, but you need to put the top up. You’ll ruin the leather seats.”

  “It’s stuck.”

  He glanced over at her. “Permanently?”

  “I don’t know. I pulled over at a rest stop around eight last night and decided to put the top down for the rest of the way, so I’d be sure and stay awake. When I got here, it wouldn’t go back up. I meant to say something to my dad this morning, but he was so excited about the barn tour, and then I got interested, too. My convertible wasn’t a top priority.”

  Once again, Clay had been guilty of assumptions. He needed to stop making them when it came to Emily. “We don’t have time to fix it now, but if you’ll get your keys, you can put it in the tractor barn so at least it’s out of the sun. The tables and benches are stored down there, so drive on down and I’ll meet you.”

  “Good idea.” She glanced at the convertible. “It’s eight years old, and things go wrong with it. My mom found it in the paper and thought I should have a classy car, but sometimes I think I’d be better off with something more practical.”

  Clay couldn’t agree more, but he could tell the purchase had been more about pleasing her mother than pleasing herself. Emily Sterling didn’t fit in the box he’d created for her, and that might put him on dangerous ground.

  Ignoring her sexy body was one thing, and infinitely doable. Resisting a cry for help from someone who wasn’t sure of her place in the world would be much more difficult. He’d been there, and no one should have to face that kind of insecurity alone.

  Chapter Four

  Emily fetched her keys from her room and roasted her fanny driving the convertible down to the tractor barn. Maybe that was just as well. Searing her backside might serve as a reminder that little girls who moved too close to the fire could get burned.

  No matter which way she looked at it, giving in to her instincts with Clay wouldn’t be a good thing. Oh, except for the obvious, which involved glorious sex with a guy who had Hero written all over him. The catch was just as obvious.

  If her dad found out, no doubt he’d be disappointed in her. She couldn’t imagine that he’d condone a superficial fling with Clay, and that’s all it would amount to. She didn’t want to disappoint her father any more than she already had.

  Even worse, he might be disappointed with the apple of his eye, Clay Whitaker. The two men had a special relationship, and she had the power to ruin it. No doubt her dad had told Clay that a Wyoming man should steer clear of a California girl. He certainly wouldn’t want to see history repeating itself with his own daughter.

  So, she was faced with an afternoon in the company of a man she found wildly sexy, yet she couldn’t do anything about it. To make matters even more complicated, he showed definite signs of a mutual attraction. She could tell by his heated looks, the tone of his voice, and the occasional bulge in his jeans.

  Knowing he didn’t quite approve of her wasn’t the turnoff that it should have been, either. No doubt about it, Clay would have preferred a cowgirl who fulfilled all her dad’s unspoken dreams. Instead she was a city girl who spent her free time riding a surfboard instead of a horse.

  Despite that, Clay wanted her, and she had the uncharitable urge to show him how a California surfer girl could destroy his control. Let him disapprove of her all he wanted, but she’d bet that given half a chance, she could make him crazy with lust. That would be satisfying, indeed, if she could reduce him to begging for the chance to sink into her hot body.

  She approached the large metal tractor barn. Clay had driven a dark blue pickup to the entrance and was letting down the tailgate as she drove past him. It was a simple task, so how come he looked so sexy doing it? She’d never made out in a pickup bed, but she wouldn’t mind giving it a try with Clay.

  By the time she pulled into the shadowed interior of the tractor barn, her hormones were dancing to a hip-hop beat and her noble intentions had taken a hike up the trail into the Grand Tetons. To hell with an uncomfortable truck
bed. Her convertible was a four-passenger with a back seat, and she was ready to invite Clay to join her there. But that was such a bad idea.

  Gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel, she closed her eyes and willed herself back to sanity. She’d driven here to celebrate her dad’s sixtieth birthday, a major milestone. She would not muck it up by having sex with his protégée no matter how yummy the guy was.

  “Are you okay?”

  She opened her eyes to find Mr. Yummy standing beside the driver’s side of the car, his hat pushed back and his dark eyes filed with concern. For a split second she pictured telling him exactly what was on her mind, which involved getting naked and then squirming around on the warm leather upholstery of her car.

  The tractor barn seemed empty of people other than the two of them, and if she’d judged their chemistry correctly, the event would be over in minutes with very little chance they’d be discovered in flagrante delicto. Of course, she wasn’t figuring in birth control as part of this fantasy, and she didn’t think Clay was the sort to be packing.

  With a deep sigh, she gave up the whole concept. “I’m fine. The transition from the heat to the shade made me a little dizzy, is all.”

  He opened the car door for her and stood back. “You don’t have to help me load the tables and benches. In fact, you don’t have to help do any of this. I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we can go riding then, if you still feel up to it.”

  “I want to help.” She climbed out of the car and moved a safe distance away from him. As she’d suspected, they were very much alone in the cool and cavernous tractor barn. No sign of a single other person anywhere.

  “After all, this party is for my dad.” She decided not to look directly at him and risk more eye contact. She was already on edge, and sexual tension wound tighter with every second they stood together inside the deserted barn. “Let’s get started.”

  “Okay.” His voice was suspiciously gruff. “You’ll need these.”

  She had to look at him to find out what he meant by these. He was frowning as he held out a pair of leather work gloves.

  That’s when it occurred to her that he might not want to take her with him. She’d invited herself along, and with Sarah and her dad jumping in to second the idea, he hadn’t had much choice.

  She didn’t take the gloves. “Maybe I shouldn’t go with you, after all. I don’t know the routine and I might get in your way.”

  “But you said you wanted to.”

  “I know, but this isn’t all about me. If my going will complicate things, then—”

  “Take the gloves.” His tone gentled. “I could use the help.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, but she really did want to be a part of setting up the party for her father. “All right. Thanks.” She took the gloves and pulled them on. They were huge on her. Laughing, she held up both hands. “Look, Minnie Mouse.”

  He smiled. “Sorry. That’s all I could find.”

  Instantly she was contrite. “I’m not complaining. I think it’s sweet that you thought to give me gloves in the first place. They’ll work fine.” That’s when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and the air went out of her lungs.

  Oh… dear… God. She hadn’t seen heat like that in… maybe she’d never seen heat like that. It was a wonder she didn’t go up in flames. Parts of her felt as if they might combust at any moment.

  Muttering a swear word under his breath, he dropped his gaze. “This is no good,” he said, his voice husky.

  “You’re right. I won’t go.” She took off the gloves and held them out.

  He lifted his head and looked at her. “That’s not right, either.”

  “Sure it is.” She shook the gloves. “Take these back, and I’ll just go on up to the house.”

  He stared at the gloves. Then, with another muttered oath, he took them and tossed them into the front seat of her car.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Making a mistake.” He grasped both her wrists and drew her toward him.

  She should have resisted. She didn’t. Her heart beating furiously, she gulped as the distance between them grew smaller. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “Oh, yes, I do.” Releasing his hold on her wrist, he took off his hat. That went into the front seat, too, followed by her hat.

  “But you said it’s no good.” She began to tremble.

  “It isn’t.” Sliding his hand around her waist, he pulled her into his arms. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

  She couldn’t believe any woman on the planet had that kind of willpower, especially when said woman had fantasized about the body she was now plastered against. Gazing into dark eyes that promised a thousand delights, she wanted every single one. She spread her hands over his muscled chest and felt his quick intake of breath and the staccato beat of his heart.

  “One kiss.” She struggled to breathe normally. “Surely we can handle that without causing a major problem.”

  “Right.” His head dipped lower. “Maybe we won’t like it.”

  Fat chance. “Maybe not.” Her eyes fluttered closed.

  “At least we should find out.” His warm breath caressed her lips.

  “We should.” Anticipation shot fire through her veins. “But what if we like it?”

  “We’ll worry about that later.” His lips settled over hers.

  Nice. We fit. He tasted of cherry pie and coffee. She sighed with pleasure, wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaned into him. This would be a good kiss. This would be — whoa! He changed the angle and delved deeper. The kiss intensified until the word nice no longer applied. Wicked maybe or wild, or…

  No words. She had no words for what he was doing to her now. She opened wider, craving him as she’d never craved a man, demanding he give her more, and yet more… Her nipples tightened and moisture gathered between her thighs. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she arched against the bulge straining the fly of his jeans, and whimpered.

  And then he stopped kissing her. Gasping, he held her tight and leaned his forehead against hers. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Kiss me again.” She heard the plea in her voice and yet she couldn’t help it. Sometime during the kiss she’d lost a sense of separateness, and now she could no longer tell whether the vibration she felt was her heart beating or his. She wanted to be caught up in the whirlwind once more, just once more.

  He drew in a ragged breath. “If I kiss you again, we’re going to end up naked on the nearest flat surface.”

  Her body hummed with excitement at the thought.

  “And we both know that can’t happen.”

  Slowly but inevitably, his words doused the fire raging inside her. Of course he was right.

  Loosening her grip on his broad shoulders, she eased out of his arms and took a couple of steps back. She combed her fingers through her hair and flipped it over her shoulder as she gazed at him. “What now?”

  Hands on his lean hips, he sent her an unhappy glance. “This is such a loaded situation that I don’t even know where to start. Your dad trusts me implicitly. If I ended up seducing you, then—”

  “Hold it right there, cowboy. I’m a big girl. That means no man is going to seduce me unless I want him to. The whole seduction issue cuts both ways. Let’s say that I seduced you. That would be betraying my dad’s trust, too, you know.”

  “I don’t know how you figure that.”

  “Think about it. A beach-loving California girl gets involved with a dyed-in-the-wool Wyoming ranch hand. We know how that story turns out and so does my dad. He’d accuse me of being careless with the feelings of someone he loves like a son, someone who—” She stopped herself before she said someone who was raised in a series of foster homes and probably has abandonment issues. He wouldn’t appreciate her pop psychology evaluation.

  Clay’s smile was grim. “I’m a big boy. No woman seduces me unless I want her to.”

  She could almost see the shields go
ing up around his heart. “That may be true, but my dad is not going to be happy no matter who is the seducer and who is the seducee. Both you and I know the story of his failed relationship, and he certainly expects us to be smarter than that.”

  “I thought I was, but…” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You sorely tempt me, Emily Sterling.”

  “Ditto, Clay Whitaker.” But if she hadn’t fully considered it before, she now realized that a casual fling was the last thing a man like Clay needed. He’d had enough temporary relationships over the years. She didn’t need to add her name to the list.

  “Emmett wouldn’t be happy to know about this attraction,” Clay said.

  “No, he would not.” She met his gaze. “I guess we have to make sure he doesn’t find out, which means no more… no more…”

  “Just no more,” he said quietly. “No more, Emily. Like you said, we know the story wouldn’t turn out well.”

  No, it wouldn’t, but she wanted to lighten the mood. “That kiss was a humdinger, though.”

  “It was.” He seemed to realize she wanted to end this on a teasing note. “I was hoping you were a slobbery kisser or that you would suck too hard on my tongue.”

  “You kissed me hoping I’d be bad at it? That’s twisted.”

  He shrugged. “It would have solved my problem if you’d been a lousy kisser.”

  “I see.” She gave him a long look. “For the record, I suck on tongues exactly the same way I suck on… other things.”

  He let out a low groan. “Now that was a low blow.”

  “You’re the one who calculatingly kissed me hoping I would slobber on you or dislocate your tongue.”

  “I had to do something! You were driving me crazy with that traffic-stopping figure of yours and your cute little Minnie Mouse impersonation. A guy can take only so much, you know.”

  Satisfied she’d established an appropriate light and breezy mood, she let it drop. “All right. Let’s call a truce and get those tables and benches loaded.”

  “You still want to come out there with me?”