One Night With a Cowboy

by Cat Johnson

  “No, not at all. I’m very happy to have met everyone sooner rather than later.”

  Wasn’t that the truth. If Tucker was this pissed off now, she couldn’t even imagine how mad he would have been after finding out she’d been on campus teaching for a while. She pushed that thought out of her head, torn between feeling guilty she hadn’t told him the night they’d met that she might be moving to Oklahoma and being angry he had the nerve to be mad at her about the oversight.

  “That’s exactly what I was hoping.” Dean Ross nodded. “Never too early to make new acquaintances.”

  Or reunite with old ones . . . “Yes, you’re right. It was a lovely mixer. Thank you so much for arranging it. I feel very welcome here.”

  “That’s the idea. Glad you liked it, and I hope the department has you here for many, many more years to come.”

  “Thank you, Dean Ross.” She glanced from her boss to Tucker’s friend. “Pleasure talking to you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.” Logan treated her to another knowing smile. “Good luck with that unpacking.”

  Meaning good luck with calling Tucker. She’d have to think long and hard about that advice from Logan. She still wasn’t sure whether she’d be taking it or not, or what reaction she’d get from the pissed-off cowboy slash soldier slash military science instructor slash former one-night stand. Her head spun with all Tucker encompassed.

  “Thank you.” With a nod to the two men, she gratefully took her leave and headed toward the door.

  Once Tucker had left and the strange conversation with Logan was interrupted by Dean Ross’s return, she felt the definite need to be out of that room and away from the scrutiny of both men.

  She fled out the nearest exit and into the brilliant sunlight, only to realize that though the dean had parked right outside this door, her car was in the lot all the way on the other side of the building. She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly or she would have gone out the other exit, the one closer to her car, and avoided the long walk in the August heat. It seemed Tucker had the ability to strip her of all good sense. He had since the moment she’d met him . . . She couldn’t forget that wasn’t all he’d done that night. He’d also stripped her of her clothes and her inhibitions.

  It was too late now to do anything about her night spent with Tucker or about being what seemed like a mile from her car because she wasn’t going back inside, walking past the open door of the party she’d just abandoned to go out the other side of the building.

  Becca peeled off the suit jacket and draped it over one arm. Good thing Emma had made her wear this tank top. The sun warmed her shoulders as she prepared for the hike around to the car. She pulled her sunglasses out of her bag and slid them on.

  She followed the path that cut through the manicured lawn and led around the building, but all the while she couldn’t stop glancing up, expecting to see Tucker at every turn. After the shock of seeing him standing, in uniform, in the last possible place she’d ever expected to see him, nothing would surprise her now.

  The whole situation was crazy. She needed to talk to someone about it. She found her cell phone and hit the button that brought up her recent calls, and of course, Emma’s number was right at the top. Becca hit the button to dial.

  “About time you called me.” Emma answered on the first ring.

  Becca didn’t bother explaining how she couldn’t have called earlier since she’d been on the campus tour with the dean and then at the mixer until just now. Soothing her sister wasn’t the purpose of this call. Quite the opposite. If anyone needed some soothing, it was Becca.

  She swallowed away the dryness in her throat and said, “He’s here.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Tucker Jenkins, that’s who.” Now she’d said it out loud, and to the only other person on earth who knew the full impact of what that statement meant, her pulse began to pound.

  “Your bull rider? Wait, here’s where? You mean in Stillwater? Did you see him somewhere in town? You saw him and didn’t call me right away?” The tone of Emma’s voice went from sounding surprised to curious to insulted and accusing, all in the matter of seconds.

  “I mean he’s right here at OSU. He was a guest at the welcome mixer I just this minute left. He’s a member of the faculty.”

  “Your cowboy is a teacher?” Her sister’s pitch rose high.

  “Apparently, and wait. There’s more. He’s a soldier, not a bull rider. Like an active-duty, head-to-toe camouflage, combat-boot-wearing kind of an army soldier.”

  “What?” Emma sounded about as shocked as Becca had been when she’d walked in and spotted him there—uniform and all. “Wait. You’re confusing me. You have to start from the beginning.”

  Emma thought she was confused. Ha! She should have been in Becca’s place for the unexpected reunion. Seeing him nearly knocked her off the casual yet professional open-toed, high-heeled sandals Emma had told her to wear.

  The fast pace she’d set toward her car, as well as the pounding of her heart and her head, had Becca breathless and woozy. Her head had started to hurt the moment she’d seen Tucker again, and now the ache had gotten worse.

  She consciously slowed both her speed and her breathing and launched into the entire story, beginning with when she’d first spotted two men in uniform from the dean’s car. It was a riveting enough tale that even Emma remained quiet and listened to her talk without interruption until the end, and that was saying something.

  Becca wrapped it up with, “So that’s it. I got out of there as fast as I could without being rude and making the dean suspicious, but the last thing his friend Logan hinted to me right before I left was that I should call Tucker.”

  Emma let out an audible breath. “Wow. So what are you going to do?”

  “Good question. I have no idea. What do you think I should do?” She juggled her jacket to dig the car key out of the pocket now that her car was in sight.

  Hot, sweaty, and mentally exhausted, she realized how desperate her state was if she was willingly asking her sister for advice on her love life.

  Love life. Ugh. Love was the last thing she wanted to pursue right now. Not on the heels of the recent demise of her two-year relationship with Jerry, and in the midst of building a career and a new life in Oklahoma.

  Then again, flashing back to that night with Tucker, the sheer pleasure and reckless abandon, the incredible sex, maybe that was exactly what she needed.

  Becca picked up her cell phone, then put it back down on the table. Staring at it wasn’t going to magically resolve the situation with Tucker. Though calling him might not do that, either. He’d seemed pretty angry with her at the party.

  She let out a huff, wishing Emma were here to dial the phone, then hand it to her once he’d answered and it was too late to hang up, like she’d done when Becca was too chicken to call and invite Billy Beckley to the junior prom. That had worked out pretty well back then. Billy had said yes, but unlike her prom date, Tucker wasn’t seventeen. He hadn’t spent the entire eleventh grade sitting next to her in English class asking her to help him with his essays.

  Then again, she’d shared much more of herself with Tucker than she ever had with Billy.

  Her laptop was out on the table, the staff directory on screen and scrolled to the page listing the staff members with the last name beginning with J.

  J for Jenkins. J for jerk, too, at least today. Maybe she was to blame for not telling him about the interview at OSU. Probably more than he was for not telling her he was only a part-time bull rider but a full-time soldier and teacher, also, as coincidence would have it, at OSU.

  Neither of them was at fault, really. There had been a lot of sex that night, but not all that much discussion. Though there had been enough talking for her to know she really did like him. Enough to regret they had nothing in common—or so she’d thought. A bull-riding cowboy surrounded by sexy young girls all the time, and a recently scorned and still insecure English professor from New York—o
f course she’d thought they had no future together. Who could blame her?

  But he wasn’t only a bull-riding cowboy. He was faculty, like she was. And now she lived in Oklahoma, like he did.

  Damn, it was a hell of a coincidence. If there was such a thing as fate, what was it trying to tell them? That they should be friends? They should be together? They should have more casual sex?

  Who the hell knew? Fate should learn to be more specific. Then again, God helped those who helped themselves. She grabbed the phone, punched in the number, and didn’t let herself think or she might second-guess the decision.

  “Hello.” The deep tenor of his voice, funneled directly into her ear from the cell phone’s earpiece, sent a shiver down her spine.

  Memories of that night cascaded over her. “Hi. It’s Becca.”

  The dead air on the line during his agonizingly long pause didn’t bode well for the success of this call. “Oh. That’s why I didn’t recognize the area code.”

  Small talk. Okay, that was fine.

  “It’s a New York area code. Dutchess County, actually. That’s about seventy miles north of Manhattan.” And now she was babbling, and that wasn’t going to get her what she wanted. “Um, have you eaten dinner yet?”

  There was another long pause. Was that a cowboy trait or an army trait, this thinking before you spoke? Maybe she should try it herself some time. Finally, he said, “No. You?”

  “I grabbed some cheese at the mixer.”

  The sound of his laugh surprised her. “That couldn’t have been much, since cheese guy planted himself there until the tray was empty.”

  Relieved the conversation had lightened up a bit, she happily jumped on the topic. “Oh, my God, did you see that? I think he might have had a plastic bag in his pocket he was stashing cheddar in.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” he responded, and then there was silence. Again.

  He wasn’t making this easy for her. She steeled her nerves. “There’s a pizza place not far from here that isn’t too bad. Maybe if you wanted to come over, I could order a pie and have it delivered.”

  “You want me to come over there?”

  She could hear in his voice, Tucker wasn’t sure of her. “Yes. Unless you have other plans.”

  “No. No other plans.”

  “I can give you my address.” Or he could laugh at her for even asking him to come over. She felt like a shy teenager again. Didn’t that life stage ever end?

  “I don’t need it. Your address is listed in the faculty directory.”

  What did this mean? He was coming over? And wait, had he been looking her up in the directory to call her just as she had been looking him up? This uncertainty was agonizing. “So, I’ll call the pizza place and order a delivery?”

  “Forget the pizza. I can do way better than that. I’ll be over in about thirty minutes.”

  “Oh, okay. Great. See you then.” Her heart began to race as she heard him disconnect the call.

  Things were still far from better, judging by their stilted, awkward conversation. He hadn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy, but he was coming over and that was a good start.

  And he’d be here in thirty minutes. She had half an hour to get herself and the apartment ready. She turned from the mug she’d left on the coffee table that morning, to the suit jacket tossed on the back of the sofa. And crap, she remembered her pajamas were still draped on the towel rack in the bathroom, and she’d never gotten around to making the bed.

  There was too much to do. She flipped the laptop shut and held it to her chest, and her head spun. Getting it all done was going to be a challenge, especially since she couldn’t seem to focus on one task. Maybe it would take her mind off her nerves, because right now, she was shaking.

  Tucker was coming here. The man she’d had one incredible night with was on his way. Strangely, her biggest concern at the moment was what she should wear. Emma must be wearing off on her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tuck blew out a frustrated breath and ran his palm along the back of his neck, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

  In one hand he held a take-out bag from the local barbecue place. In front of him stood Becca’s closed apartment door. And it felt like there was a ten-pound lead weight in his gut as he considered what the hell he was doing here.

  One short phone call from Becca was all it had taken to break down his resolve to steer clear of her. Oh, he was still mad as hell at how she’d kept the Oklahoma State job from him, but as his dick remembered the feel of her and twitched inside his jeans, he realized his bruised ego apparently didn’t matter all that much in this situation.

  Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe it had been just sex with her. Nothing more. Nothing deeper. Nothing emotional. That would be good. Sex, he could handle.

  Too bad all the evidence told him it wasn’t. If it had been just physical, he wouldn’t have been nearly as pissed or hurt that she had waltzed away from him that morning. And without a second glance or a word about her impending move to his own damn town.

  The food in the bag was getting cold, and if he knew anything at all, it was that delaying this little reunion wouldn’t make it any easier. Though maybe a little more procrastination wouldn’t hurt. After all, ribs were still pretty damn tasty at room temperature . . .

  Crap. A man shouldn’t have this many thoughts in his head. That’s why he liked bull riding—get a clear head, get in the chute, try not to get bucked off. Easy. Bull riding was simple, but women? Women were not. He should have said no to her invite. A smart man would have.

  He obviously was not a smart man. He raised his fist and knocked on the wooden door hard enough to make his knuckles sting.

  She opened the door before he had a chance to change his mind and run away. At this point seeing Becca face to face was both a blessing and a curse. Much as he dreaded it, he needed to face her. It sure didn’t help she looked so damn good and smelled even better. That figured.

  ��Hi.” Becca’s one tentative-sounding word carried the weight of far more.

  “Hi.” He shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other in the awkward silence, before raising the bag for her to see. “I got dinner.”

  “Thank you. Come on in.” She took a step back from the door, and he followed her lead, entering the apartment.

  He glanced around the space, which looked like most apartments around campus, only with a hell of a lot more books. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. I still have some to do. Unpacking. Hanging some things on the walls.” She closed the door behind him and flipped both locks.

  He watched with a raised brow. He was all for safety, especially when a woman lived alone, but did she really think anyone was getting past him? With all of his training, he could take a man down with his bare hands, even without the folding knife he kept stashed in his jeans pocket.

  Then again, Becca didn’t know that. He supposed he should be happy she was double-locking the door with him on the inside and not on the outside. That had to be a good sign.

  He remembered the food and put the bag on the island between the kitchen and the living area. “Not a problem. There’s a take-out menu in the bag so you’re not stuck ordering only campus pizza every night.”

  “Thank you. So, I guess I’ll get us forks and plates.”

  “Knives, too, if you’ve got any. There’s a rack of ribs and some brisket. Though they smoke the meat all day so you can pretty much cut it with a fork.”

  “Mmm. It smells great.”

  All he could smell was her. What was that light scent that assaulted his nose and made parts lower harden? Soap? Perfume? Just Becca? And she was wearing jeans. In the black suit she’d worn to the party he might have been able to resist her. But in bottom-hugging denim that reminded him so much of watching her peel her jeans off that night, he was fading fast. Not to mention that little blue tank top that accentuated her assets so nicely.

  He watched her move around the island and pull open one drawe
r and then another.

  She glanced up and cringed. “I’m still trying to figure out where I finally put things. First I put the utensils in the drawer closest to the island, where I’ll be using them most, but then I thought they should probably go near the dishwasher.”

  Becca looked at him once more, and then away, concentrating overly hard on counting out two of everything for them to eat with. She was nervous. He could tell by the way she rambled. It was her tell, talking too much and a little too fast . . . And wasn’t it insane he knew that about her after just one night together?

  Tuck pushed that thought aside and shrugged. “It takes time to get used to a new place.”

  “I guess. Oh, I haven’t offered you anything to drink. I have soda, but it’s diet . . .” There was that cringe again. “I have red wine, but no beer. Sorry. I should have run out and—”

  “Don’t worry.” He held up one hand to stop her apology. “Water is fine for me.” Better actually. He didn’t need his already wobbly judgment affected by alcohol.

  “Water, I have.” She smiled and then frowned at the cabinets. “The glasses are . . . Above the sink, I think.”

  Dammit, why was she so adorable? The girl couldn’t even find where she’d put her own stuff, and it was making it really hard to stay mad at her. “I’ll get it.”

  He stepped around the island and toward the cabinet, which would have been way too high over her head for her to reach anything anyway. It was a dumb place to put everyday glassware in his opinion. She moved in the same direction he did, and they crashed against each other hard enough to knock his breath out of him with an oomph.

  He reached out to steady her.

  “I’m sorr—” Becca never quite finished the word. Her eyes went soft as they gazed into his, and Tuck found his hands were no longer safely on her arms but now down holding on to her hips. Those round, beautiful hips he’d held on to for dear life while plunging into her in the hotel.

  Tuck swallowed hard and found it hard to breathe. The situation only got worse when she took a single step closer, putting her dangerously near the rising erection in his jeans. He drew in a deep breath, which filled him again with her scent. It was all too much.