Cowgirl Education: a Camden Ranch Novel

by Jillian Neal

  And he was most definitely not a cowboy. Her number one rule for dating. Boots, spurs, calloused hands, bossy, demanding, arrogant, foul-mouthed, and shit covered were not for her. She had three older brothers that fit all of those bills and had grown up with dozens upon dozens of others. Nope. She would always be a cowgirl at heart, but cowboys were not allowed to darken her doorsteps for dates ever. Declan, on the other hand, was more than welcome to keep distracting her from her shitty evening.

  The song wound towards the end and Holly’s heart sped right along with the crescendo. She didn’t want this dance to be over. It had been far too long since someone had held her close and stirred the longing she kept tucked inside. She was sick to death of the boys in her classes. They were psych majors, just like her. All they wanted to do was analyze her and then fuck her. Not that she could blame them. She wanted to analyze them as well, right along with the rest of her life.

  Before she’d given them up for good, the cowboys back home weren’t any better. No analyzation there, but no exploration, either. First and foremost, she longed for a man, not some college kid, that might attempt to have sex with her soul; a man who could unravel the riddles of her with every touch of his fingertips and every brush of his tongue. She wanted someone to answer her questions without judgment. Someone who would explore with her. Somehow, Declan seemed like he could do all of that and so much more. Something in the assuredness of his arms around her, the cool confidence that exuded from him, and that barbell through his eyebrow spoke to the desperate desires residing deep within her body.

  She’d never asked a guy to come back to her apartment after one dance. She’d never been the one-night stand type. Something about it irked her. There was so much she’d never done, but that was all about to end. . .maybe. If only the searing pain in the center of her back would let up. A kiss from Declan would surely make it better.

  The band bled About a Girl into Pour Some Sugar on Me rather well in her non-expert opinion, but Holly had no desire to dance to a faster song. She lifted her head and licked her lips, hoping that would be invitation enough.

  She swore his dark chuckle penetrated her skin and gripped her soul. “The band clearly took the ever popular ‘greatest cover hits every band should know’ quite literally, and you, my love, really shouldn’t give me looks like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are awfully, awfully tempting, and I’ve never been all that good with restraint.”

  “Who’s asking you to restrain yourself?”

  “I am. You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who snogs a guy she just met.”

  She bit back her giggle at his British phrasing. She really should get out more. There just weren’t that many ex-pats in the middle of Nebraskan cattle country. “We’ll add that to the lengthy list of things you don’t know about me. I’ve done my fair share of snogging.”

  “Trying to make me jealous, love?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Too damn well.”

  He threaded his fingers in her hair and guided her mouth towards his own. She had no idea where the anguished noise of pure need she made came from. She took it as a clear indicator that her recently self-imposed celibacy should come to an end.

  His pained grunt of approval had her melting into his body. The moment their mouths met, she opened for him like a woman starved, desperate to taste more of the craving on his tongue. His lips were the perfect mix of soft heat and demanding pressure. A heady combination of greed and desire filled her mouth. He tasted like expensive beer and liquid sin.

  His hand caressed along the center of her back and then latched onto her right ass cheek with a seductive squeeze.

  “Dammit! Ouch!” she tensed in pain.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. . . .” he jerked his hand away. Confusion broadcast from every chiseled plane of his face. “Are you all right? I’m sorry I got carried away. You seemed like. . . .” He bit off the inevitable ending, ‘you were into it.’

  And she had been. Dear God, she’d been more than into it. “I was,” Holly squeezed her eyes shut and called herself an idiot. “Trust me, I was very, very into it. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just. . . uh. . . . ” She was certain Declan, who sported an infinite number of tattoos, was going to laugh at her outright no matter how polite he’d been thus far.

  “Are you hurt, darling? The guy who was supposed to meet you. . . ? He didn’t?”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry. It’s got nothing to do with him, and I’m not dating him or anything. He’s not even a friend of mine. I actually hate him.” She glanced down at the dress she’d decided on just for the satisfaction of making Trevor’s tongue hang out of his mouth like the horn-dog he was and understood that her actions had to be speaking louder than her words.

  The caring concern that weighted Declan’s perfect gray eyes drew the confession from her. “I got a tattoo yesterday. It’s. . .kind of big, and like an idiot, it never occurred to me that I can’t really reach all of it to put the lotion and ointment on it. Kind of hurts like hell.”

  “I see.” He tried to hide his smirk, but humor had replaced the concern in his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry you’re in pain, darling, but tonight is apparently my lucky night. If you’ll allow it, I do happen to know a little bit about taking care of tats.”

  Holly’s eyes widened as he edged his shirt cuff further up his arm revealing a full sleeve of intricate ink work. Her heart flew as she watched him unbutton one single button at the top of his shirt to show her his left shoulder and a peek of his chest. The longing to order him to show off more of his credentials formed on her tongue, but she bit back the request.

  “Yeah, I noticed those. Just kind of an odd thing to ask about since we just met.”

  “Like I said, this is clearly my lucky night. Now, Miss Holly Camden, may I escort you home and see about this new ink?” He held up his right hand. “You have my word certified by the Queen herself that I will be a perfect gent, unless, of course, you’d like me to be something other than completely civilized.”

  “The Queen, huh?” Holly rolled her eyes, but the rapidly drying skin had worried her all day. Now it burned and felt swollen. Her entire body was confused. Declan had floored the accelerator on her sex drive, which had dampened the pain to non-existent until he’d squeezed the wrong places. She had no hope of convincing herself that she wasn’t also desperate to know just how uncivilized Declan St. James could be and what else he might do with his skillful hands.

  Besides, she didn’t really have anyone else to ask to help. All of her friends from the last few years had finished their Masters and moved on. She had no one to call to help her and driving home would have hurt like hell. Not to mention her parents’ reaction to her tattoos. It was distinctly odd to be in a city she’d known her whole life, the place where she’d managed to become something other than “little Holly Camden,” and to suddenly know no one. Concessions had never come easily for her, but tonight she was willing to make one.

  “I’ll take you up on that perfect gentleman thing tonight, if you’re really willing, but I’d be very interested to discover just how uncivilized you can be when my back doesn’t feel like someone set it on fire.”

  “Tempting as hell, love. My God, how would I ever turn you down on anything? But you’re breaking my heart. I wish you’d said something earlier. I understand why you didn’t, but pain is not something you should ever have.”

  “Thought you didn’t have a heart.”

  “You, my dear, have a wicked tongue, a killer body, and kisses so sweet I may never recover, and I am not a man known for my patience. You’ve been killing me slowly for hours. That kiss bloody damn near made me embarrass myself. Come show me this tat and finish me off for the evening.”

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell, bitch? What he got that I ain’t?” The stumbling, slurring, piss-poor excuse for a man blocking Declan and Holly from the exit door clearly liked a hefty dose of pain
with his booze. He was also the idiot Holly had already threatened with lodging her dress in his windpipe.

  Rage rocketed up Declan’s spine and sizzled outward to his fists. His biceps flexed ominously. He’d been in more bar fights than he cared to recall, but never before had he wanted to remove his opponent’s sac and then shove it down his throat.

  Something about Holly, her tender strength, the way she must’ve been trying to drink off the pain of the tattoo, the way she obviously leapt before she looked, the sinful looks she gave him coupled with her sweet kisses, it all spoke to places in his soul he thought long dead and buried back in that tiny graveyard not two miles from his father’s farm in the Chilterns.

  “Pardon me, darling.” He slid Holly to the side and had the punk pinned against the nearby wall by the strength of his shoulder in the punk’s throat. Using his other hand, he shoved the guy’s head into the wall, giving him nowhere to look but in Declan’s infuriated eyes. “To answer your question, you incomprehensible jizztrumpet, I possess the ability to speak without sounding like I’ve spent the better part of my life under a stone. I also know how to handle a woman of her caliber, which you haven’t a clue in hell as to how to do. On top of that, do you feel how I’m allowing you to continue breathing?” He leaned in, shutting off his airway for a moment to make his point. The asshole managed a nod. “Yes, well, as you can clearly feel, I also have the ability to make breathing far more difficult for you. Not only that, but I can shove that beer bottle you’re clinging to so far up your arse you drown in it. Stay the hell away from her, and if I ever, ever hear of her so much as crossing your pre-pubescent mind again, I won’t hesitate to expand on all that I have that you do not, and all that I can do that you cannot.”

  With a hard hip check into the idiot’s groin, Declan let him slink to the ground in pain and quickly escorted Holly to the parking lot. Poor thing was shaking.

  “Uh. . .thank you,” she finally managed. If she worried that bottom lip anymore she was going to draw blood, and she stumbled, trying to follow him while keeping her eyes on the door to the bar.

  “Come here, love.” In the middle of the tavern parking lot he gently wrapped her back up in his arms. “I need to see this tat so I know where I can hold you.” No laughter. She just buried her face against him. That same hollow place in his chest he’d noticed when he’d asked her about the guy who’d stood her up ached. If he ever had the chance to meet the wanker who’d blown her off, he’d buy the guy a nice scotch for not showing up. “Deep breath for me, okay? All’s well.”

  “I’m sorry. This night has been. . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut and edged out of his embrace.

  “Shitty? Yeah. Mine too, until I saw this gorgeous woman with brilliant comebacks take on every Y chromosome in the bar and beat them badly. Now, it’s looking to be one hell of a night. Let’s get you home and see if we can’t get you out of pain.”

  “Thanks for everything, Declan. Maybe I should just go. . .alone. I’m not up for much else.”

  A disturbing sense of panic twisted in Dec’s gut. She couldn’t go. Not yet. There was more to her and him, more to them. Much more to be discovered. Wasn’t there?

  He forced what he hoped was a cocky smirk. “Can’t let you go yet, love. I swore to the Queen I’d take care of you, remember? And I’m not asking for anything other than to ease what ails you. Ten minutes, fifteen tops. Tomorrow morning I’ll come back to your place, after having slept completely, sadly alone in my own bed, apply more ointment, and see if you might let me take you out for breakfast. That is all I’m asking for.”

  “I know. Thank you. I’d love to have breakfast with you. It’s just. . . don’t you think I’ve gotten you into enough trouble?” She gestured back to the tavern.

  Declan couldn’t help but laugh. She thought that was trouble? Dear God in Heaven, she was more naïve than he’d originally guessed. She was also more caring, tender, and sweet, and probably had no business getting involved with a guy like him. With a deep breath he reminded himself that he wasn’t that guy anymore. That was why he was in America, wasn’t it? To start over.

  “That was no trouble, love. Trust me. You okay to drive? I can give you a ride.” He gestured to his latest purchase — a decidedly American Harley Fat Boy Softail.

  “Wow.” Her eyes ran the length of the bike. “Of course you drive a motorcycle. Should have guessed that.” She mumbled to herself.

  Declan chuckled. “I normally despise clichés, but the bike was too much to resist. It completes the fucked up musician picture, don’t you think?”

  “Trust me, it’s not at all a bad picture, but I can drive. Do you just want to follow me?”

  “Lead the way.” He followed her to a rather large, siren red, Chevy Silverado with mud splatters on the body, and offered her his hand as she stepped up. “Of course you drive a truck big enough to intimidate the shit out of most anyone. Should have guessed that.”

  And there it was, her beautiful smile and an honest-to-God laugh. “It’s big enough to haul horse trailers, tractors, and cattle. Told you I was a cowgirl.”

  “I must impress upon you how hard I am trying to avoid asking just how well you ride, darling.” With that, he offered her a wink and returned to his bike.

  When the customary metallic rattle of the powerful machine ripped through the air, Declan gripped the handlebars and tried to sort through his evening. He’d been in Duffy’s to study the crowds before his band, Original Sinners, played on Wednesday night. Not a particularly original name in his opinion, but he was still earning his place in a band that had been around for ten years before he’d arrived on the scene. He’d met his one and only friend, Kade Griffith, at a Narcotics Anon meeting right after he’d moved to Lincoln. Kade had recruited him to be their front man when their original lead had moved to Arizona to be near his wife’s family.

  Holly had kept him too distracted to really discover much about the bar. The band wasn’t half bad. They weren’t half good either, though. The crowd hadn’t seemed to mind either way.

  Holly. His mind had little room for anything else. What was it about her that drew him in like a moth to a flame? She turned down a road near the University. He followed as his thoughts churned over the girl who had him so thoroughly distracted. His propensity for obsession coupled with the confection of the kiss they’d shared and created a Molotov cocktail in his mind. As they turned into a mundane apartment complex, he’d redirected enough blood flow from the head in his jeans to the one on his shoulders for the warning bells to sound off.

  Declan had the untoward and unwanted gift of being a one hit wonder. He’d nicked a smoke from his older brother when he was fourteen and had taken to stealing them from Mr. Kapoor down at the Village Store for the next several years. He’d tried taking a couple of his old man’s painkillers and had craved something stronger by the weekend. Searching for any variation of hash he could score, he’d landed on Molly, then he’d crashed and burned in a fiery explosion of cocaine, shrooms, acid, and painkillers. It had all taken him only one hit to make him want more, and it had all come from bedding Evie Taylor on his sixteenth birthday. One and only time in bed with her and he’d been addicted to the girl that would ultimately ruin his life.

  When the roar of Holly’s truck motor silenced, Declan shut down his bike and reminded himself that Holly was most certainly not a junkie. She was vibrant with life itself. Warm and sweet and alive. But he knew he must constantly remind himself that addiction invariably clawed beneath his skin. He’d been clean for almost eleven years, and he’d fought for it every second of every hour of every day. He couldn’t become addicted to her, and she was so utterly tempting. He couldn’t ruin her life the way he’d ruined his own.

  Holly’s cringe as she slid out of the driver’s seat of her massive truck prodded that hollow space in his chest once again.

  “The dress stuck to it,” she whimpered. Arching her back to try to loosen the fabric from the tattoo made an alluring presentation of
her gorgeous cleavage to his starving eyes. His mouth went drier than the Mojave and his palms burned to touch her skin. He ordered away the urgency that swamped his blood. She was in pain. He had no business getting involved with her anyway.

  “Come on, love. Let’s get you taken care of.”

  He followed her past the elevators in her building and up the stairs. “Elevators haven’t worked in three years according to my landlord.”

  An invitation to come back to his expansive lakefront home formed on his tongue. The need to care for her overwhelmed him once again. He longed to tuck her up in the lap of luxury. His position at the counseling center boasted a sizeable salary, and he suddenly wanted to spoil her. He told himself that was good. Addiction was ultimately a selfish thing. Caring for her instead of seeing what he could get her to do for him was a good sign. The soft swish of the silky fabric over her delectable ass as she climbed the steps reminded him he was far from a saint, however.

  Her apartment wasn’t any nicer than the building that housed it. He could see the tiny kitchen and small bedroom from the living room where they were standing. Declan suspected that his cowgirl had taken it without having a job. She’d gotten a tattoo without anyone to help her care for it, after all. She’d also trusted some shit-licker to meet her at a bar, and he hadn’t shown, and she’d had no hesitation about daring him to kiss her. Yep, Miss Holly Camden definitely leapt before she looked. Damn, if that didn’t make him like her all the more.

  “Here, darling.” Gently, he settled his hands on her shoulders to steady her then slowly eased the fabric away from the center of her back. She shivered under his caress. His previously missing heart roared to life with nothing more than a tender quiver of her body.