Hometown Cowboy

by Sara Richardson

  Lance set her feet on the floor and kissed her back, wrapping her in tighter, pulling her naked body snugly against his, and they seemed to fit so perfectly together.

  “You’re somethin’, Jessa Mae,” he said, his hungry gaze lowering down her body.

  “I could say the same about you.” Not once in her life had sex been so spontaneous, so instinctual and free-spirited. So close to the movie sex scenes that she’d always thought were contrived and unbelievable.

  One time with Lance and she was a believer.

  He took her hands in his, towing her closer. “So that was unexpect—”

  The doorbell chimes cut him off.

  Jessa snapped her head to stare at the front door on the other side of the great room. “Who’s—”

  “Uncle Laaa-aance!” The door muffled Gracie’s singsongy voice.

  “What is she doing here?” Jessa hissed, pushing away from him, breaking their bodies apart.

  His eyes squeezed shut. “I’m supposed to give her a riding lesson.”

  “When?” Not to be dramatic or anything, but one minute ago the girl could’ve walked in on them having sex in his kitchen!

  He glanced at the clock. “In two minutes.”

  “Holy shit. Good God, Lance.” She scrambled around the floor, rummaging through the discarded clothing.

  “I’ll tell her to go away,” he said, his mesmerized eyes locked on her body.

  “You can’t tell her to go away! Put these on.” Jessa hurled his pants and boxers at him. Then his shirt. Oops. That was her shirt. Aha! His was pooled on the island. She ran over and snatched it, shaking it out so she could pull it over his head.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Hello?” It was Naomi! The heavy wood started to creak open.

  Jessa hit the floor next to Lance, scooting her knees into her chest and hiding herself behind the island.

  He finished buckling his belt with amazing precision, given their current dilemma.

  “There you are,” she heard Naomi say from across the room, thank the lord.

  There was a pause.

  “Why didn’t you answer the door?” her friend asked, a familiar skepticism creeping in.

  Lance cleared his throat. “Um. Sorry. I was…on the phone.”

  Wow, he was good under pressure. He almost sounded bored. And then there was her…her pulse was racing so fast and hard, it felt like her heart could tear out of her rib cage at any second.

  “Oh.”

  Jessa held her breath. Would Naomi get suspicious and come over to the island? She edged her back against the cabinets.

  “Why is Jessa’s truck out there?” the woman asked.

  Damn her!

  “Dunno.” Lance snuck a glance down at her, flashing that grin so fast she almost didn’t see it, then he walked away. “Looks like someone’s ready to ride, though,” he said. And he must’ve twirled Gracie around because she giggled and squealed.

  Slowly, Jessa let out the breath she’d been holding. Footsteps traipsed away from her until they grew faint.

  “I wore my pink cowgirl hat,” Gracie chirped as the front door opened.

  When it closed, Jessa let herself collapse on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to grasp what had happened. One minute she was reprimanding him and the next she was practically begging him to ravage her. And it might have been fast but…wow. For some reason that had made it even better. It had never happened that fast for her. Ever.

  Trying to breathe like a normal human, she sat up and started dressing herself. She never did this…a quickie in the kitchen with a man she wasn’t even dating. What the hell had come over her?

  Shaking her head at herself, she shimmied on her jeans.

  It had to be that damn chocolate.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Uncle Lance, why aren’t you listening to me?” Gracie demanded, waving a hand in his face. Her glittery pink nails caught the sunlight and practically blinded him.

  “Oh. Sorry, buckaroo.” He shook himself conscious. Normally, he wasn’t one to dwell on the past, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself back into the present. Not after that mind-blowing rendezvous in his kitchen. It had been so good he might never get himself out of the past. And it wasn’t like Gracie needed a ton of supervision. Not on Esmeralda. The mare had been his mother’s horse way back when. She was as old as the sun and lumbered along steady and slow no matter what a person did with the reins.

  “I asked if I’m holding on right,” Gracie said, her bottom lip pouting slightly. She sat up taller on Esmeralda’s back. “Because someday, when I’m a beauty queen, I’ll need to know how to hold on the right way.”

  He grinned at her. “You’re perfect. Just don’t grow up and become a beauty queen too fast.”

  “Too late for that,” Naomi mumbled beside him. “I swear…I don’t know where she got her diva tendencies.”

  He swung his head to give her a proper look of disbelief. “Really?”

  “What?” she demanded, just like her daughter.

  He gave her a dose of raised eyebrows and braced himself for a fist in his biceps, but she only laughed. “So I like pink. And sparkles.”

  “And drama,” he added, making a silly face so Gracie would laugh.

  “Speaking of…” Naomi tugged him back a step while they watched Gracie make another leisurely round along the fence. “You do seem a little checked out. Who were you on the phone with when we came in?” Her expressive green eyes reflected the sunlight. She was already gloating.

  Aw hell. He was busted. Naomi knew good and well he avoided the phone like he avoided her drama. “It was a wrong number,” he said, heading for the safety of Gracie’s presence.

  “Where was she hiding?” Naomi asked, following him closely. “And what the hell was she doing in your house in the middle of the afternoon?”

  He stopped and faced her. “If only that was your business.”

  “Oh, it’s my business,” she fired back. “Jessa is my friend. I thought we were in agreement on this.” Her eyes narrowed as though she was calibrating her intuition.

  Shit. That wasn’t good for him.

  “You slept with her didn’t you?”

  “Technically no.” There was no sleeping involved. No lying down, even.

  “Damn it, Lance,” she said, smacking a hand against her thigh.

  “We don’t say ‘damn it,’ Mommy,” Gracie called over. “That’s a bad word.”

  Lance busted out laughing.

  “You’re right, peaches,” Naomi muttered through clenched teeth. “What I meant to say is, ‘How could you let this happen?’”

  He shrugged, waiting until Gracie and Esmeralda had ambled to the other side of the corral. “It just happened. Okay?” He still wasn’t sure how. When Jessa had said those things to him, told him she believed in him, something else took over. He couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t hold back. Part of him had thought that once it happened, he’d get it out of his system and he’d be able to stop thinking about her. To see her without wanting her so badly it made him ache.

  Man, had that backfired. That little tryst had only intensified the thoughts, the physical response to her. Next time it wouldn’t be fast and frantic in the kitchen. He’d take his time with her.

  “So what does this mean?” Naomi half-whispered. “Is Jessa okay?”

  “She sure seemed okay.” Way better than okay, actually, given her sexy cries there at the end…

  “I mean are you guys together? In a relationship?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Though they hadn’t really made time to discuss the details. “This morning, she said that wasn’t what she wanted.”

  “Of course she said that, you idiot.”

  “We don’t say, ‘idiot,’” Gracie admonished. “Remember, Mommy? It’s not nice to put people down.”

  Lance laughed again. He loved that girl.

  “Right,” Naomi said behind a plastic smile. “Thanks for the reminder.”


  Esmeralda hobbled away from them for another spin around the corral, and Lance took the opportunity to argue his case.

  “Why does everything have to be defined right now?” Hell, he and Jessa hadn’t even defined anything. He sure wasn’t stupid enough to discuss the terms of their relationship with Naomi before he’d talked to Jessa about it. Relationship? Wow…had he ever used that word before? Maybe not, but he didn’t exactly mind the sound of it as much as he once had.

  “Well, I’m just wondering what you plan to do now,” Naomi badgered in her little sister way. “Maybe it’s time for you to deal with your commitment issues so you can actually have a healthy functioning relationship with someone.”

  If a man said that to him, he might haul off and throw a punch. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “‘Hell’ is a bad word!” Gracie informed him from the other side of the corral.

  “Right,” he muttered, wondering what would happen if she wasn’t around to keep them all in line. “I meant to say heck.” He turned to Naomi. “What the heck does that mean?”

  “You know what it means.”

  “I’ve never met anyone worth committing to,” he said. That was all. Good women were hard to come by. She couldn’t blame that on him.

  “No,” Naomi argued. “You’ve never let yourself trust anyone. Not since your mom left.”

  He opened his mouth to object, but she went on. “I know you better than almost anyone, Lance. You have serious trust issues.”

  Anger rose like a shield. “You’re one to talk.” She hadn’t even dated anyone since Mark took off.

  Instead of lashing back at him like he expected her to, Naomi laid a hand on his arm. “Exactly. Which means I can recognize it.”

  The admission disarmed him. What could he say to that? “Maybe it’ll never be possible for me.” Maybe his mother’s abandonment had jacked him up so bad, he’d never have a relationship. Maybe he didn’t even want to try.

  “So what’re you gonna do?” Naomi asked again.

  “I don’t know.” It wasn’t like he’d planned to have wild passionate sex with Jessa. He’d been in a rough place when she walked in. And right when he saw her everything seemed better. The opinion of the rest of the world hadn’t mattered so much. She might be the only person in the world who believed he could compete at Worlds. Who believed he could win one more title.

  “Oh my God,” Naomi gasped. “Did we walk in on you two?”

  “Not exactly.” The memory of Jessa crouched behind the island next to him baited a smile. That could be their secret, though.

  “Is she still at your house?” the woman blurted. “You have to go talk to her! You have to make sure she’s all right!”

  “She’s all right.” And yes, he’d talk to her. Later. He wasn’t going to stress about it. Wasn’t going to force things. And he sure as hell wasn’t taking Naomi’s advice again. “But after we’re done here, I’m gonna call Tucker and have him bring out Wild Willy.” The bull should be healed up by now and he needed to get serious.

  Two minutes before Jessa had shown up on his doorstep, he’d been this close to quitting. But she’d given him the determination to train and to fight and to keep going.

  And now, he’d do whatever he had to do to get back in that arena for one more dance.

  * * *

  She should probably leave Lance’s house, seeing as how he’d been gone for a half hour. Jessa had managed to retrieve her clothes—which by divine intervention had been strewn around the floor behind the kitchen island, saving them both from a potentially awkward conversation, had Gracie happened to have caught sight of a pair of women’s underwear lying out in the open.

  After she’d dressed, she’d teetered around the kitchen on her still wobbly legs doing the few dishes that sat in his sink and walking around the living room like it was a museum, noting the beautiful prints hanging on the walls and the detailed woodwork and the titles of the vast array of books he kept on the shelves.

  You could tell a lot from a person’s book collection and Lance’s was extensive. He liked local history and cowboy legends. Political thrillers and classics like Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy. She wouldn’t have pegged him for an intellectual, but then again, Lance was too layered to be pegged at all.

  She knew she should leave, but she liked being there. She liked learning about him. She liked seeing how he organized his space and life. And yes, she liked him. Not just the sex, which had been…wow. But it went deeper than that. His tenderness. His loyalty. His sensitivity. He obviously didn’t want people to see those things in him, but she did.

  The more time she spent with Lance, the more he revealed his true heart to her—the one that had been wounded and left him wandering, much like her own. And the more she saw of his heart, the more she realized she could love this man. If she let herself. She could. That was a dangerous prospect. Because she already knew he didn’t let himself love anyone.

  So she had to leave. Walk out his door and not look over her shoulder. Accept the fact that things wouldn’t be the same when they saw each other again. He’d be distant like he had been earlier. And she’d be unsure.

  Steeling herself, she made her way across the sitting room and peeked out one of the front windows to make sure she wouldn’t be caught. If she was honest, part of her hoped Lance would come back and find her there, that they could hold on to the connection that had rooted them together when he was looking into her eyes, holding her body, kissing her. It would be like a scene from a movie. She’d swing open his front door and he’d be standing there, just about to walk in because he’d realized he couldn’t live without her. Then he’d kiss her and while he was kissing her, he’d sweep her into his arms and close the front door—locking it this time—and maybe he’d take her on the soft leather couch…

  But Lance didn’t come. No one was outside, and while disappointment weighted her chest, that was perfect because at least she wouldn’t get caught sneaking out of his house. Quickly, she opened the door and slipped outside, eyeing the horizon for any glimpse of Naomi or Gracie. Once on the front porch, she ran, stumbling down the steps before racing to her truck. She climbed inside and sped down the road to Luis’s house, taking an extra few seconds behind the wheel to collect herself so she didn’t seem harried and panicked.

  Carefully she straightened her hair, glancing in the rearview mirror. God, she looked like she’d just had passionate sex. Her face was even still flushed.

  Shaking her head at herself, she climbed out of the truck. Hopefully Luis wouldn’t notice…

  “Hey there.” The man himself greeted her from the rocker on his porch as if he’d been sitting there waiting for her. He’d even brought out little Ilsa. The pig was curled up on his lap.

  “Hi,” she said brightly, going to sit by him. She loved his rocking chairs. He’d made them himself from the thick aspen branches he’d found on the property.

  She settled in and stared out at the view. If Luis had noticed her sitting in the truck trying to primp herself back to normal he didn’t let on. And he didn’t ask why she’d just driven down from Lance’s place.

  He probably didn’t have to.

  “So how’s our patient?” she asked, reaching over to ruffle Ilsa’s ears.

  “Seems fine.” He handed over the pig and Jessa nuzzled her against her cheek. Ilsa still smelled like the scented shampoo she’d used when she’d bathed her.

  The rocking chairs creaked for a few minutes before Luis turned to her. “Sorry I left Green’s house like that,” he said gruffly.

  “No.” She patted his hand. “It’s okay. I probably overreacted.” That morning already felt so long ago. So much had happened between then and now.

  “Nah. It was a fool-headed thing to do,” he mumbled as though angry at himself. “There’s no excuse.”

  That was what bothered her. Luis never did fool-headed things. He’d always been careful and deliberate. Not rash. He thought things through.

&nbs
p; She glanced at him, trying to interpret the disheartened expression on his face. A glimmer of intuition flared inside her and she drew in a breath of courage. “Are you sure you’re okay, Luis?” Because he’d left the ladder in the middle of the yard. And even if he had been angry at Hank or even if he’d really been thirsty, he would’ve propped up the ladder near the house or left it in the garage…

  “There’s nothin’ for you to worry about,” he said, clearly not answering her question. He could’ve simply said no, but he hadn’t.

  Worry weaved itself into the threads of her fears. “If there was something, you could talk to me about it, you know.” Though she hadn’t meant for it to, emotion laced the words. “I could help you figure it out.” She would do her best. In so many ways, this man was all she had left of her father. They’d shared years together. He’d known her dad even better than she had.

  Luis rocked in his chair, his old hands gripping the armrests. “It’s tough getting old,” he finally said. “Feeling your body give out on you.”

  Give out on you how? she wanted to ask. What wasn’t he telling her?

  “Makes you think about all the things you’d do differently.” He was gazing off to the mountains in the distance as though seeing a whole lifetime of regrets play before him.

  The sad pull to his lips clawed at her heart. “What would you do differently?”

  “Too many things to list,” he said with a humorless laugh. Then he turned to her, those eyes watery and sure. “But you know what I regret the most?”

  “No,” she said, her eyes locked on his.

  “I regret not making things right with Lucas.” He looked away from her again, but not before she saw tears brighten his eyes. “I was hard on him when they came for him after he set that fire. Said a lot of things I can’t take back.”

  For the life of her, she could never imagine Luis saying a mean or hateful thing to anyone. But he’d likely been different back then.

  “I’m sure he knew you were just angry,” she offered. The fire had tarnished the Cortez family name. It divided the town, hurt Luis’s own legacy…