Promise from a Cowboy

by C. J. Carmichael

  “I—” When he put it that way, she didn’t.

  “Now, can I make love to you here? Or would you prefer a bed?”

  She laughed. “Those are my only two options, are they?”

  “Sweetheart, I’ve waited over half my life to make love with you. But I’m damn well not waiting another day.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Savannah’s bedroom was plain in the extreme. Sheer white curtains billowed at the open window. A double bed, unmade and yet not untidy, had crisp white sheets and a thin, pale blue comforter.

  B.J. noticed the neon glare of the alarm clock: 7:45 p.m.

  A beaten-up cowboy hat and her sheriff’s star sat on a sea-green dresser.

  And then he was done looking at anything but the sexiest woman he’d ever known. He tangled his hands in her thick, long hair and studied her smoky, sultry eyes. “God, you drive me wild, woman.”

  She placed her hands on either side of his neck. “Is that so, cowboy?”

  She had no idea how much he wanted her. He had years and years of pent-up desire surging through his bloodstream right now. But more important than any of that was making her feel cherished and special. Letting her know that his commitment to her was true and forever.

  He kissed her, deeply and passionately, running his hands down her strong, slender back, then finding the hem of her shirt and working it upward.

  She wiggled free of the paint-stained cotton, and her bra was next, coming undone with a quick twist then falling to the floor with the shirt.

  She had beautiful breasts, the same toffee color as the rest of her skin. He had to feel them, kiss them, admire them, before moving on to her shorts, undoing the snap and inching the denim fabric over her luscious hips.

  “Your turn, cowboy.”

  Her body was such a temptation, he could hardly endure the wait as she pulled at his jeans, then slid her hands under his cotton T-shirt. “You look so sexy in this,” she said, but still she pulled it off, over his head. “But even better without it.”

  He’d never been so aroused, but he laid her on the bed with the intention of loving every inch of her body before he even thought of himself.

  He was finally in her bed.

  The evening was young.

  And he was determined to make it one she’d never forget.

  * * *

  SAVANNAH HAD KNOWN she was taking a big step when she invited B.J. into her bedroom. She hadn’t realized it would change her world. She’d never felt so much—of anything. Physical, mind-bending pleasure, beyond what she had imagined.

  But also a transformative connection that existed on another plane. Looking into B.J.’s eyes, she felt as if she was seeing the future.

  Their arms and legs were still tangled together, minus the top sheet and comforter, which were somewhere on the floor. She had her hand on his bare chest and could feel the thumping of his heart.

  The night had been long, most of it spent in bed. There had been a sojourn to the kitchen for snacks and water.

  Then back to bed.

  Now it was so late, she was afraid to look at her clock.

  “Are you happy?” B.J. asked.

  “Yes.” Happier than she’d ever been in her life. But she didn’t tell him that. She trusted him. But not enough to put her open heart entirely in his hands.

  “Good. Me, too.” He gave her a charming half smile. “I’m pretty tired, as well.”

  “No wonder.”

  He laughed at her dry tone. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

  “You’re staying the night?” She hadn’t expected that. But then, she hadn’t thought very far into the future about anything to do with their relationship.

  “It’s almost over. Might as well stay put for the last few hours. Unless you want me to leave?”

  “No.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she gave in to the fatigue washing over her. He smoothed down her hair. His touch felt gentle and loving. That was her last thought before she drifted off.

  * * *

  AN OBNOXIOUS SOUND woke her. It could have been hours later; it could have been an entire day. She sprang upright in her bed, noticing B.J. sprawled out beside her, eyes still closed.

  Then the sound rang out again and she realized it was her cell phone.

  “Damn!” She peeled B.J.’s arm off her leg and grabbed the phone from the table by her bed. The cheerful bright numbers on her alarm clock informed her that it was five minutes past nine.

  She never slept this late. Especially not on a workday.

  “Sheriff Moody here.”

  “Hey, Savannah? Are you sick or something?”

  It was her dispatcher, Haley, on the line.

  “No—I was just held up this morning.”

  “Oh.” Haley waited a beat, then continued, “A state attorney just called.”

  “Paul Corrigan?”

  “That’s the guy. Didn’t you and he—”

  “Ancient history, Haley.” Savannah was quick to sidestep the inquisition. “What did he want?”

  “Just to tell you the dental records were a match.”

  She’d been expecting as much. Still, she experienced a queer feeling in her gut. “Has the family been notified?”

  “Yes. June Savage is making arrangements for the remains to be returned to their family burial plot.”

  “Good. Thanks, Haley. I’ll be in soon as I can.”

  “I take it that was bad news?” B.J.’s voice was gravelly. He’d propped himself up in the bed, and his eyes were already sharp and focused, as if he’d been awake for hours.

  “Depends on your outlook, I guess. Bad news for the McBrides. The dental records matched.”

  B.J. looked at her in silence for several seconds. “Well, at least his family doesn’t have to live with uncertainty anymore.”

  “Yes, but they don’t have the hope he could be alive, either.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a second phone call, this one from Paul himself.

  “Looks like we’re reopening the investigation. The guy in charge is Rex Harris. You know him?”

  “Yes.” She wished she didn’t. The few times they’d had business together, Rex—who was in his late forties and something of a throwback where rednecks were concerned—had treated her as if she was a little girl. Real nice, but real condescending, too.

  “He’s going to come ’round to pick up your files.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes, thinking of the slim folder that held the sum total of Sheriff Smith’s investigation.

  “And I imagine his next step will be tracking down your brother for questioning. And that Lambert fellow.”

  Thank God Paul didn’t know that “Lambert fellow” was just now getting out of her bed and pulling on his clothes. “Thanks for the heads-up, Paul.

  “And tell Rex good luck in finding my brother,” she added.

  * * *

  BUT LOCATING HUNTER was easier than Savannah had expected. She was just out of the shower when she heard the sound of male voices coming from the kitchen.

  B.J. had promised to brew some coffee and make her toast before he left. Did he have a habit of talking to himself while he cooked?

  She slipped from the bathroom to her adjoining bedroom, where she dressed in clean jeans, her short-sleeved tan shirt and her belt. As a last step she pinned on her star.

  She was finger-combing her damp hair when she walked into the kitchen, only to stop cold at the sight of Hunter at the kitchen table, B.J. sitting opposite.

  “Hey, sis.” Hunter got up to give her a hug, made awkward by the cast on his left arm. He seemed thinner than ever, and he had a fresh scar above one of his eyebrows. Despite these injuries, her brother still had his same cocky grin.

&
nbsp; “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Depends on your definition. Am I going to live? Yes. Am I going to be able to compete for the next two weeks? No.”

  “When did this happen?” She pointed to the cast.

  “About a month ago.”

  “Is that why you didn’t show up for the Wild Rogue?”

  “Yeah—but how did you know about that?”

  She could tell him she’d driven all that way for the chance to spend some time with him. But why bother? “Never mind about that. What brings you home? Need some recovery time?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  Hunter sat down again, and picked a slice of toast off the pile at the center of the table. “B.J. was just filling me in on a few local events. First and foremost is the fact that you two are finally back together. Sure took you long enough.”

  She glanced at B.J., who winked then came up beside her.

  “You look like you need this.” He handed her a mug of coffee. “And this.” He gave her a nice, sweet kiss, right in front of her brother.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” Hunter hooted. “So when did you two finally figure out you belonged together?”

  “Hang on a minute. You don’t get to ask the questions here.” Darn her brother and his timing. This day had started out crazy and seemed to be getting more insane by the minute. “What happened to your arm?”

  “I’ll give you three guesses and one clue. It had something to do with a bull.”

  “Hunter, no! You promised no more bulls.” All rodeo events were potentially dangerous. But bull riding was the worst.

  “I didn’t exactly promise.”

  She shook her head. She hadn’t been able to control her brother when they were growing up, so what made her think he would listen to her now that they were in their thirties?

  “It was a hell of a ride, though. You can see the video on YouTube. Got a computer handy?” Hunter was already edging out of his chair. She motioned for him to sit back down.

  “I don’t want to watch footage of you getting hurt. Really, Hunter. How much longer are you planning to live this lifestyle?”

  She might have asked B.J. the same question a few weeks ago. But it seemed as if he had finally decided to settle down on his family’s ranch. What would it take to pull her brother out of the dangerous rodeo-circuit lifestyle?

  “I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing as long as it pays the bills. Soon as this arm is healed, I’ll be on my way. But I was hoping I could crash here for a few weeks?”

  “Of course. It’s your home as much as it is mine.” Later she would talk to him about her plans to sell the place. She had no doubt that Hunter would agree—as long as he could pocket his share of the cash. She’d use her own share to ensure quality care for their mother for the rest of her life.

  This was all assuming Hunter didn’t end up in serious legal trouble.

  “I’m sorry about your arm. But your timing is good. I was just going to send another email asking you to come home.”

  Hunter drummed his fingers on the table. He’d never been able to sit still for long. “Yeah, I saw your messages.”

  She stared at him. So why hadn’t he answered?

  And then it occurred to her that he’d probably been talking to someone else in Coffee Creek.

  “Did Hanna White ask you to come back?”

  Hunter’s smile lost its cocky edge. He fingered the rim of his coffee cup and gave a slight nod.

  “So she told you that they’ve figured out who the man that died in the fire was?”

  He lifted his head slightly, directing narrowed eyes at her in a cautious glance. “She said it wasn’t confirmed yet, but he might be the son of some rich bastard from L.A.”

  “As of today you can consider it confirmed. His name was Travis McBride. Did you know him, Hunter?”

  Her brother didn’t answer, just fidgeted with his coffee cup.

  B.J. pulled his chair closer to Hunter and leaned in toward him. “It’s going to be okay, as long as we’re clear about what happened. We were in the barn when the lightning struck, but we had no idea there was anyone in the loft. Then we took off as fast as we could to report the fire.”

  Savannah felt sick to her stomach. B.J. was obviously coaching her brother on what to say. Right in front of her! But she was the sheriff. It was her responsibility to find out the truth. Even when the case involved her brother and the man she loved.

  She turned to pour her coffee down the drain, more shaken than she wanted either man to see. Not just by B.J.’s blatant attempt to collude with Hunter.

  But also by her feelings.

  She loved B.J. It was the first time she’d admitted this to herself.

  But it had been true a lot longer. She was staring out the window over the sink when she heard her brother say to B.J., “You prepared to swear on that?”

  “I’ll give your sister a signed statement, right now.”

  “Better give it to Rex Harris. He’s the man heading the investigation.” Her voice sounded leaden, even to her own ears.

  * * *

  HOW HAD THE best night of his life morphed into one of the worst mornings ever?

  B.J. didn’t make it back to Coffee Creek until shortly after ten. Jay and Griff had already done the morning chores and were out checking fences in the northwest pasture. B.J. went to the office to get a handle on the week’s schedule. He found his mother there, pacing the floor and looking annoyed.

  “I admit when you first told me that you were ready to come back to the ranch, I was thrilled. But I expected you to take the job seriously. Corb and I and the other hands start our day at six in the morning. Not ten-fifteen.” She glanced, pointedly, at her watch.

  B.J. had been afraid of this—micromanaging by his mother was definitely one of the hazards of coming back home.

  “I appreciate that, Mom. But we’ve got a schedule here.” He pointed to one of several whiteboards hanging on the wall. “The boys and I rotate so we each get two mornings off per week and one full day. You can see here that Monday and Wednesday are my off mornings.”

  Olive furrowed her brow as she studied the schedule. Then she relented, a little. “Well, that’s fine and good, but I still think you should be watching where you spend your time. There’s lots of talk going around the community—about you and our sheriff.”

  “They can talk all they want, Mom. It won’t change anything—least of all the way I feel about Savannah.”

  He could tell Olive didn’t care for his response. “You don’t like making things easy for yourself, do you, son? Can’t you see how bad it looks? Especially since they’ve reopened that accidental-death case from when you were a boy. Everyone’s going to say that you and Hunter were in it together.”

  “Well, we were, Mom.”

  Her frown sharpened. “You were there that night. But you had nothing to do with that young man being up in the loft.”

  Here it was, the first real test of his resolve. B.J. kept a lot of things from his mother, but he wasn’t fond of actually lying to her.

  But he needed to protect Savannah. And that meant protecting her brother.

  And it started here and now.

  “Neither did Hunter.”

  “You’re only saying that because you want to protect him. This is serious, B.J. Your feelings for that woman are going to ruin your life.”

  “That’s what you want to believe. But I’m not perfect, Mom. I’ve made mistakes—big ones—in my life. And I happen to believe I’m not the only Lambert who’s done so.”

  His mother narrowed her eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You haven’t spoken to your own sister for over thirty years. What’s up with that? I’ve met her. She’s not perfe
ct—none of us are—but she’s family, right? And didn’t you and Dad raise us to believe that family comes first?”

  “Stop it right there, Robert. You don’t understand the first thing about my childhood, or the issues I had with my sister.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me, then? What’s the big secret?”

  “It is no secret. I’ve already told Corb and I’m sure he told you that my sister prevented me from visiting my father after he had his stroke. He died and I never even had the chance to say goodbye.”

  “I know that’s what you told Corb. But is it really why you’ve stayed so angry all these years? Isn’t it possible that you’re really mad because your father blamed you for your mother’s death?”

  His mother gasped. “Did Maddie tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words. But I guessed from looking at the family photos. If it was true, then it was cruel and unfair of Grandpa Turner—but it wasn’t Maddie’s fault. I’ve met her, Mom. She’s not a bad person.”

  His mother held out her hand. “Stop,” she said again. “I refuse to discuss this with you any further. I’m beginning to wish you’d stayed on the rodeo circuit. I never thought a son of mine would be so vicious.”

  She was gone by the time B.J. had cooled down enough to realize that he’d pushed too far. He’d wanted to get her to back off on bad-mouthing Savannah and her family. But he shouldn’t have lashed out in return. His parents hadn’t been perfect, but they’d loved him.

  B.J. thought about following his mother and apologizing, but he had a meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes. A woman was applying to be the agent and office manager—responsible for keeping the quarter-horse records current, updating their website and handling daily correspondence. This was all work that Brock and Jackson had previously handled and had been sorely neglected in the past few months.

  Once the interview had been concluded, B.J. promised to call the woman back shortly with his decision. He’d been impressed with her experience and her knowledge about quarter horses. She’d be a great addition to the business, as long as her references checked out.

  Now it was time to apologize to his mother.

  He found her just about to get into her SUV. She was dressed in a pair of slacks and a blazer, all made-up with her hair perfectly in place.