by Caro Carson
As Ryan tamed her hair, she stayed still, wishing, wishing. His body was so much larger than hers, his muscles moving under the polished cotton of his shirt with the gentle motion of his hand.
Kiss me.
He let the last lock of her hair go, and his fingers brushed the bare skin of her shoulders, then higher, a smooth, light run up the length of her neck, a barely there brush of fingertips on her jaw.
Kiss me, kiss me.
The gentle touch of his fingertips was replaced by the sure warmth of his palm as he cupped her face in his hand. Her eyes closed.
Kiss me.
“Kristen Dalton.” When he spoke her name, she felt the whisper of his breath on her lips. “Where have you been all my life?”
“Right here, waiting for you to find some happiness.”
He kissed her, and, oh, it was a glorious feeling of soft lips and restraint, a tender you-may-kiss-the-bride moment. He ended it too soon, and she opened her eyes. Behind him, the sunset had come into its full colors over the snow-capped mountains that had defined the horizon her entire life.
Had she expected the kiss to make him happy? He wasn’t smiling. His gaze was direct, his face so serious it was almost a frown.
Before she could say something, anything at all, he let go of her hand to hold her face between both of his palms. Words fled. He pulled her to him for a kiss that rocked her world. Rougher, more greedy. Possessive, more passionate.
Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck as he pulled her into him more tightly than any dance had allowed. She felt the hard planes of his body, and everything soft in her wanted to give in and melt in the safety of his arms.
She kissed him until his arms felt more sexy than safe. She kissed him until the only reason she was standing was that he held her up.
If he could have laid her down, if they hadn’t been hiding in plain sight in a corner of the town park, she would have gone willingly. It would be madness, but finally, she understood the crazy things couples did. Love at first sight, undeniable desire, life-changing decisions made in a split second—it all made perfect sense.
He ended the kiss when she would not have, could not have. As they held tightly to each other, she could feel every breath that filled his chest. She panted softly herself, as if she’d run a mile. Run a mile, and won the race. The endorphin rush, the thrill of knowing that this had happened, that she’d found the one man with whom she connected more strongly than she’d known was possible, was almost frightening.
He placed gentle kisses on her temple and at the corner of her eye, little echoes of the passion that had just obliterated all her thoughts. “You smell fantastic, by the way.”
It took her a second to remember what they’d been talking about before the kiss. “Not like a stable?”
“Like summer.”
“Your favorite.”
And then they were kissing again, hungry and intense. She wanted him with a desperation that threatened once more to make her shameless. He broke off the kiss but clutched her closer. His breath was harsh in her ear. “That was damned...”
“Scary?” she whispered.
“Powerful.”
She pulled back a little bit. All the emotions overwhelming her were reflected in his expression, too. It made her feel even closer to him, to the one person who was weathering this unpredictable storm with her.
“I think...” She didn’t have any clear thoughts, only feelings. Crazy, uninhibited feelings today, here in the town park. She looked up at him through her lashes, hoping to lighten the intensity. “I think we just found a great way to pursue happiness.”
His smile was brief. “I still have to leave tomorrow. The fact that I’m falling for the most beautiful girl in the world doesn’t change the fact that I have people depending on me.”
Falling for her. He was falling for her, and everything was right in the world—except that he had to leave tomorrow. She didn’t like it, but she understood it. The rodeo wasn’t so different from the theater in many ways.
“The show must go on,” she said.
“And on, and on. I get to enjoy the victories for about five seconds before the next challenge begins. But we still have tonight. How would you like to spend it?”
He had to ask?
She kissed him this time. He responded instantly, perfectly, opening his mouth to her demands, anchoring her to him with his hands. He kept the kiss from exploding into desperation this time, setting a slower pace, a more luxurious exploration. It was divine to kiss him, the sensation so perfect that it was like seeing a new color she’d never known existed or hearing a beautiful piece of music for the first time.
He broke off the kiss with a softly spoken damn.
“Ryan,” she begged.
“I know.” He tucked her securely against his chest. She breathed in the warm skin exposed at his throat. “I know.”
Where are you staying? Let’s leave the park now. The words wouldn’t come, too many years of that good-girl upbringing preventing her from saying what she wanted.
“I have to leave tomorrow,” he said, so quietly that she wondered if he was speaking to himself. “It would be...we should just...we shouldn’t.”
There was nothing else to say. A part of her wanted to plead childishly, Don’t you want to? Or more importantly, Don’t you want me?
She stayed silent, her cheek to his chest. He was older than she was and almost certainly more experienced, but she trusted herself to answer those questions. Yes, he wanted to. Yes, he wanted her. She could feel the muscle tension in his body. He was deliberately keeping himself under control. His breathing was steady only because he was requiring himself to breathe steadily.
He was being a true cowboy, one with all the courtesy and respect that a gentleman traditionally showed a lady. Hadn’t she vowed she’d settle for nothing less?
Frankly, she wished the universe hadn’t listened to her quite so thoroughly on that point. This man was hers, and they would be together sooner or later, and her body was certainly eager for sooner. With a sigh, she lifted her head and stepped back just a tiny bit, keeping her arms looped around his waist.
“I guess it’s too early for fireworks,” she said.
The corner of his mouth quirked in that hint of amusement she was coming to love. When the breeze blew her hair forward again, she tried to toss it back with a shake of her head, refusing to let go of Ryan.
He pushed her hair back for her and kept his hands on either side of her face. “I can hardly believe you’re real.”
“Wanna kiss me again to be sure?”
He laughed at that, a much needed break in the tension. “I know you’re real. Amazingly, incredibly real. But today hasn’t been. This isn’t my real life.” He let go of her face.
“But it could be. That’s what you came here to decide.”
He stepped back, and she let him go. Desire that could not be satisfied wasn’t a desirable state to be in. But then he turned away from her—and from the sunset, the mountains, everything. He braced his hands on the fence and looked down at the railing.
As if the man hadn’t already stirred up enough emotions in her, she now felt the tender tug of sympathy. There was some pain in the way he bowed his head as well as strength in the set of his jaw. It must be hard for a man’s career to be ending when most people were just hitting their strides. The rodeo was unforgiving, and Ryan seemed determined to choose his next step in a purely objective manner. But any man who knew horses and victory and defeat, any man who appreciated music and summer and family, must have a heart.
She hoped he’d listen to his.
“Should I leave my current life and start a new one in Rust Creek Falls? That’s the essential question. I can’t drop the commitments I’ve already made. Being impulsive would hurt too ma
ny people. Today was supposed to just be a first step. I only came to see the town and begin evaluating my options.”
“That’s perfectly logical.” She said it with a straight face, the way he had over dinner.
He glanced sideways at her. “You don’t think so?”
“I think you’ve already made up your mind. All this ponderous decision-making isn’t necessary, but if it makes you feel better, ponder away.”
Her attempts at humor were helping her regain some equilibrium, anyway. She turned around to lean back on the fence, resting her elbows on the top rail and hitching the heel of one boot on the bottom. She let her head drop back far enough so she could look up at the darkening sky.
She managed at least sixty seconds of silence before peeking at Ryan. He’d stopped brooding at the fence, at least, and was watching her. She supposed she bore some resemblance to the ranch dogs who flopped onto their backs when they wanted a belly rub.
“It would have been easier if I’d never kissed you.” Judging from the deep bass in his voice, maybe she looked better than she thought.
“Then I’m glad you kissed me.”
“Kristen Dalton, you are a serious complication.”
“Nope.” She pushed off the fence and mirrored his stance, arms crossed over her chest, standing solidly on her own two cowboy-booted feet. “I’m just a big, positive check mark on your balance sheet. You’re determined to decide your next step very methodically, I can tell. When you make your official list of pluses and minuses, you’ll put me on the plus side in bold letters.”
“Kristen.”
She waited as he tried to think of the right thing to say, but apparently she’d said something so logical, he couldn’t refute it. It was almost as good as making him forget to hold the horse earlier in the day.
“In the meantime, we could stay here, alone, practically invisible to everyone else once darkness falls. Fireworks of one kind or another are bound to happen. That would surely go in the plus column.”
He acted like he was giving the idea serious consideration. “Being arrested for public indecency would give me a chance to see the local jail cells firsthand. A well-run police force would go in the plus column.”
“I’m sure the cells are lovely, but someone would have to catch us in the act first, and these spruce trees are mighty hard to see through. Did you notice they smell like Christmas?”
“Now that you mention it.” He seemed faintly surprised at her words.
“It’s the perfect blend for us, summer and Christmas.”
Ryan moved to escort her out of their little corner of the world. “I think we need to keep ourselves busy while we wait for the fireworks. Should we head back to the dance floor?”
“You came here to see Rust Creek Falls. I just so happen to have known this town for twenty-five years. I’ll give you a tour. You can rack up more check marks in the plus column.”
Kristen pointed toward the gate that the bride and groom had used to leave on their honeymoon. “The first step is right this way. You’re going to love everything you see.”
She glanced up at him just as he said, “I think I already do.”
He’d been looking at her, not at the town, when he’d said it.
If she could have blown a kiss to the universe, she would have.
Chapter Four
Ryan was losing his mind—but at least he was losing it while having one of the greatest days of his life with the most enchanting woman he’d ever met. He enjoyed every moment in Kristen’s company, every teasing comment, every exuberant laugh, every country-western dance.
But that kiss had been a whole different world. The first taste of her mouth had rocketed into an intense need to make her his, desire going from zero to sixty in one second. It had been primal, almost frightening in its intensity. He was thirty-three years old, yet a kiss, a single kiss while fully clothed, had him rethinking everything he thought he knew about craving a woman’s touch.
One particular woman’s touch. Kristen Dalton, who somewhere between a waltz and a two-step had made a better life seem possible.
Kristen stopped outside the park and waited for one lone pickup truck to pass them, then led him across the street. As they walked, he put his arm around her shoulders, left so thankfully bare by her summer dress. She slid her arm around his waist, a move as natural as if they’d been lovers forever. There was a rightness to it.
A rightness? There was that fate nonsense again. When had he ever thought or felt or wondered about the rightness of a casual touch?
Give up the analysis. Just enjoy the rest of the day.
“First stop on your tour. The local junior-senior high school. Go Grizzlies.” She beamed at the brick structure, a plain two-story rectangle, government architecture at its most common.
“The school? There’s only one?”
“There’s an elementary school, but this is the one and only high school. It’s very important to Rust Creek Falls. Whether you’re a teenager or not, this is the hot place to be on a Friday night. It’s our number one cure for cabin fever in the winter. When you can’t stand seeing solid white out your window, come to the gym for the varsity basketball game. The whole town will be here, not to mention everyone from the opposing team’s town. The clash of school colors will dazzle you after months of snow. There’s pop and soft pretzels, and you can cheer the players and boo the referee. It’ll get you through until spring.”
He pretended to consider the building seriously. “It sounds like an item for the minus column. Solid white out your window that gives you cabin fever? Not so great.”
“The snow isn’t the town’s fault, so you can’t ding us for that. But to provide a cure for cabin fever?” She spread her hands out to encompass the school. “Definite plus.”
It was ludicrous to think that he, Ryan Roarke, with his courtside seats at NBA playoffs, would count it as a definite plus to sit on gym bleachers and watch adolescents attempt to shoot hoops. He was accustomed to watching the best athletes in the world. He expected to be entertained by world-class professional cheerleaders. He knew how—
Professional cheerleader. He’d completely forgotten the Laker Girl he’d so recently left. She hadn’t entered his thoughts for more than a moment after they’d parted ways, although they’d dated on and off for some time. And yet, had his sister not mentioned this town-wide wedding celebration, he would probably have been with that cheerleader right now, and she with him, simply for the convenience of having an appropriate “plus one” for a yachting weekend that was more about business than relaxation.
He knew other men envied him for never lacking in female companionship, but today—this crazy, emotional day—it seemed more pathetic than prestigious to waste time with a woman who meant nothing to him.
He looked down at Kristen. She was gesturing toward the distant baseball diamond as she told him about more school sporting events, her face radiant even as darkness settled around them. It had been easy for him to come to Montana and forget about a woman in LA, but Ryan knew he’d find it impossible to forget about Kristen when he left Montana. If he could take with him some of her zest for life, he would.
“You must have enjoyed being a student here. Or was it a torturous teenage experience?”
“Ah, another trick question. I want you to think I’m cool, so I should say high school was cool. But I don’t want you to think I was too cool, so I should make sure you know I had my moments of angst. Honestly, I was always afraid I didn’t fit in.”
“You? Not fit in?” The idea was laughable.
“I was pretty insecure at sixteen, but I guess that’s normal. Isn’t it?”
Something in her voice, a trace of that insecurity, made him look at her more closely.
“Didn’t you worry if you fit in?” she persisted.
&nb
sp; He had, but it had been assumed by the adults in his life that it was a consequence of his early childhood. He’d been particularly withdrawn his sophomore year, and he’d overheard his parents debating whether or not they should take him to a psychologist. They’d wondered if it was normal teenage angst, as Kristen called it, or damage from being abandoned by his birth mother.
They’d concluded it was just a normal phase, but as he’d eavesdropped on their conversation, he’d concluded the opposite. He could remember the hem of his mother’s dress as she’d walked away. No one else had a memory like that. Not his brother, not his sister, not his parents. There had to be something horribly wrong with him.
Thankfully, Kristen had never known that kind of pain. She’d introduced him to her twin on the dance floor. She’d waved at a man she’d told him was one of her brothers, although Ryan had already guessed as much from their resemblance. Kristen had been born into a close family, not adopted after being left behind. She’d been raised with love from the first day of her life.
It was incredible to hear her say that she’d worried about fitting in. Kristen was outgoing and friendly in a natural way. She had to be welcome everywhere she went. If a woman like Kristen had spent her high school years wondering if she belonged, then maybe his parents had been right. Maybe his teenage years hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary.
Kristen was looking up at him, patiently waiting for his answer.
“I worried, too.”
But maybe that was normal. It was a radical thought.
She gave him a squeeze. “I told you we had so much in common.”
He said nothing, thrown off-kilter by yet another loop on the day’s emotional roller coaster, but then Kristen rested her head on his shoulder, and everything seemed to right itself again.
“I’ve been trying to get some after-school activities going here. The principal said the budget wouldn’t allow for another student club. Maybe next semester. Always next semester. Anyway, are you ready for the next stop on your tour? There’s a really great donut shop on the next block. It might be worth two pluses.”