“Of course!”
As Rosie hurried off, Whitney thanked her lucky stars that she’d made the decision to come out here.
“You should definitely visit again soon.” Phil, her red hair piled on top of her head, linked her arm through Damon’s. “Before you leave, I’ll give you my cell number so you can let me know when you’re coming out. I love giving tours of the cabins.”
“For a good reason.” Damon gestured toward his fiancée. “She designed these great loft beds. They’re basically a bunk bed without the bottom bunk so a desk and dresser can fit underneath. They’re super cool.”
“I’ll vouch for that.” Cade walked over with a champagne flute in each hand and mischief in his green eyes. He handed one each to Whitney and Ty. “It’s a darned lucky thing I’m on the job getting Whitney champagne, Slater, or the poor woman would die of thirst.”
“I notice they’re only about half full, bro.”
“Patience, grasshopper. More’s on the way.”
“I’m on it!” A man in his sixties standing behind a makeshift bar in the corner popped the cork on a bottle of bubbly. Herb had only been in Rangeland Roasters a couple of times, but Whitney recognized him because he’d always come in with Rosie.
Cade turned to Whitney. “Your coffee is great, at least the few times I’ve managed to get there.”
“Thank you.”
“But I have to question your taste in men. What’re you doing with this bum?”
She laughed. “He’s my ticket into this private party. A girl has to do what a girl has to do.”
Ty lifted his eyebrows and she grinned at him before taking a sip of her champagne.
“You make a good point,” Cade said. “The guest list is pretty darned exclusive. But now that you’re here, feel free to ditch him.”
Ty rolled his eyes. “Says the loser who can’t handle a staple gun without stapling his sleeve to the porch railing.”
“Oh?” Whitney glanced at Cade.
“I have no idea what he’s talking about. Oh, look. Here comes Dad with more champagne.”
“Welcome to Thunder Mountain Ranch,” Herb said as walked toward her.
“And also Thunder Mountain Academy, which I understand is now accredited.” Whitney smiled at him. “Congratulations.”
“We’re tickled about it. Molly Radcliffe is in charge of the curriculum and she’s over the moon. Molly and Ben are visiting her family in Arizona, but they’re here in spirit.”
“Oh, I know them. She teaches at the community college and he’s the saddlemaker.”
“Yep. He helped design the logo and that sign out front. Then Phil and Damon made it. We have some talented folks around here. But I’m not doing my job. I’m supposed to be pouring champagne. Let me top off your glass.” He filled it almost to the brim before motioning to Ty. “How about you?”
“I’m good with what I have here. I’m driving Whitney back to town.”
“Not in the next five minutes, I hope.”
“No.”
“That’s good.” Herb eyed Ty’s glass. “I guess you have enough for a decent swallow. Don’t want any wimpy toasting going on tonight.”
“That’s for sure.” Cade surveyed the room. “Now if I just could remember where I put my glass, I’d be a happy man. Don’t want to dirty up another one, seeing as how Damon will be the poor slob who has to wash them all after the party. I’d hate for him to get dishpan hands on my account.”
“This would be your glass, cowboy, and I even filled it for you.” Lexi joined the group and handed him one of the flutes she was carrying.
“Ah, thank you, Lex.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I do,” Damon said. “You’d revert to being the sorry mess you were before she came along.”
Cade lifted his glass in Damon’s direction. “That would be a pot-and-kettle statement right there, bro. We all remember the sad state you were in before Phil took you on.”
“Can’t argue with you there. We’re both a couple of lucky dogs.”
Cade nodded. “That’s a fact.”
“I’m loving this conversation.” Lexi looked over at Phil. “How about you?”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe we should give them champagne more often.”
From across the room, Rosie tapped on the side of her glass to get everyone’s attention. “Looks as if we all have champagne.” She glanced around. “Many of you in this room helped make Thunder Mountain Academy come to life, but there are some who couldn’t make it here tonight. I raise my glass to all of you and anyone not present. Herb and I love you all and we’re so...” She swallowed and looked at Herb.
“We’re so grateful,” he finished in a husky voice, putting his arm around Rosie. “So very grateful.”
For a split second the room was silent, and in that moment, Whitney understood what an emotional impact this project had on everyone—Rosie, Herb, the foster brothers and everyone who had been a part of this ranch for years.
Then cheers and whistles erupted and they all lifted their glasses and drank. Whitney promised herself that she’d drive out here next week, tour the facility and see if there was anything she could do to help.
She’d gathered from Rosie’s stray comments that without Thunder Mountain Academy, she and Herb might have been forced to sell the ranch. Whitney wasn’t clear on the reason for that and she’d ask Ty on the way home. She’d just thought it was a good idea that needed to happen. She hadn’t realized the implications for Rosie and Herb if it hadn’t become a reality.
She didn’t know exactly how she could help other than her degree and a general knowledge of running a business. Rosie and Herb probably had all the advice they needed, but if not, she’d make herself available. Rangeland Roasters had taught her quite a bit and she’d be happy to share.
After the toast, the party kicked into high gear. Rosie hauled out an ancient stereo and a few country CDs while the men moved the furniture to the edges of the room. Rugs were rolled and tucked away. Apparently she and Ty would end up dancing, after all.
Lexi and Cade started it off, but before long Ty pulled her out on the makeshift dance floor.
“What if I can’t dance?”
“Too late.” With a grin, he spun her around and they were off.
Fortunately she could dance, although not as well as Ty. But she’d been an athlete all her life—volleyball, tennis and skiing. Dancing was simply another form of athletic movement, right? Or maybe not. With a partner like Ty, dancing was foreplay.
Until now, she hadn’t understood the erotic nuances of a two-step. He created just enough bodily contact to drive her crazy, but not enough to satisfy her craving for his touch. Maybe a slow dance would come along, but no. This was a celebration and everyone wanted movement and laughter.
She loved the energy in the room. This was her kind of celebration, although she’d never attended such a party with a man as sexy as Ty. The more champagne she drank, the better she danced. The better she danced, the more she lusted after her tall dance partner. By the time he drew her aside and suggested they might want to head back, she had a good buzz going and was thinking how nice a round of hot sweaty sex would feel.
They retrieved their coats and her purse. She said goodbye to everyone, which included plenty of hugs and promises to get together again soon. She’d made more friends in one night than in five months of living in Sheridan.
Once out on the porch, she sucked in the cold air and told herself to settle down. She wouldn’t be having sex with Ty, no matter how seductively he danced. Digging in her purse, she eventually found her keys and handed them over. “Great party.”
“Rosie and Herb always throw great parties.” He looped an arm over her shoulders as they walked across the crusty snow to the car.
“Does everyone usually dance?”
“Not so much. If you really want to know, I think Rosie engineered that because she wanted us to dance together.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. She wants us to become a couple and she’s proud of the way I dance. She’s hoping you’ll be swept away, so to speak.”
“I am.”
“You are?” He clicked the remote and the Subaru’s taillights flashed. “You’re not joking?”
“Dancing with you has turned me on like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Hm. Good to know.” He opened the passenger door. “In you go.”
“No, it’s not good to know.” She gazed up at him as he stood beside the open door. “We’re no better off now than we were before. This is an impossible situation. Between my folks and this party, we’re SOL.”
“Maybe not.” He closed the door and walked around to climb into the driver’s seat.
“Yes, we are, Ty. So just take me home so I can sleep alone in misery on my cute but uncomfortable futon.”
His low chuckle was the sexiest sound in the world.
“Go ahead and laugh, but it’s not funny.”
“No, but it’s not as hopeless as you think, either.” He started the car and backed out of the parking space. “While you were drinking champagne, I was drinking coffee and my brain started working again. I came up with an idea.”
“What sort of idea?” He looked all cowboyish in his hat and shearling coat as he expertly navigated the winding road. She was ready to listen to anything, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. She wanted the hands gripping the steering wheel to be gripping her, instead, while he stroked deep, and not with his tongue, either.
“It’s not a perfect idea, but...” He glanced down at the gauges. “I think you have enough gas in the tank to make it work.”
“Make what work? Where are we going?”
“Back to Sheridan.” He turned onto the main road and accelerated.
“Then what?”
He glanced at her. “Like I said, it’s not a great plan.”
“Any plan is better than no plan.”
His little smile indicated he liked that response. “Okay, I have to ask at this point, are you rethinking having me come over tomorrow at seven-fifteen?”
“Yes. Are you happy, now?”
“Very happy. I was planning to show up, anyway, but this gives me the green light.”
“I wouldn’t call it the green light. I would call it the yellow caution light. I may want you, but I still think having you stay longer in Sheridan is a bad idea.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
She studied him, and what a fun exercise that was. He looked determined and sure, as if he knew exactly what he wanted and how to go about getting it. Maybe it was the champagne talking, but she was inclined to let him work this out. “So what’s this new plan of yours?”
He hesitated. “Now that I’m coming over tomorrow night for sure, maybe we should skip it.”
“That depends. Does it result in us having sex tonight?”
“Yes.”
“The whole enchilada kind of sex?”
He laughed. “Interesting choice of words, but yes.”
“No, no, not enchiladas.” She remembered the chopstick incident and giggled. “Too limp.”
“Trust me, that won’t be a problem.”
“The whole taquito. How about that?” She couldn’t seem to stop giggling. “No, wait, they’re kinda small.”
He snorted.
“Aren’t you going to tell me that won’t be a problem, either?”
“I will not.”
“Come on, don’t be shy. Unless you’ve been stuffing a sock in your pants, you’re no taquito.”
“Whitney Jones, how you talk! I think you’re toasted.”
“I do believe I am. Now tell me what I can expect once you unveil that bad boy of yours. Are we talking taquito or chimichanga?”
He grinned. “You’re pretty funny when you’re smashed.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Give it up. I’m not telling you.”
“Why not?”
“Ever hear the expression all hat and no cattle?”
“No, but we’re not discussing hats and cattle. We’re discussing your—”
“True cowboys don’t boast, not about the size of their spread or the size of, well, anything.”
She took some time to consider that. The implication warmed all her lady parts.
“But I will tell you I’m not stuffing a sock in my pants.”
“All righty, then.” She took a shaky breath. “Now that we’ve settled that matter, what’s this plan you keep not telling me about?”
“We head back to the parking lot, and assuming you’re not fast asleep by then, I grab the box of condoms I left in my truck and we put the seat back down in your Subaru.”
“You have a box of condoms in your truck?”
“That’s where the four I left at your place are from. I didn’t want to bring in the whole box. That seemed excessive.”
She laughed. “What about me? I put a whole box in my bedside table drawer.”
“It’s your place. You can have six boxes if you want but I didn’t want to make assumptions.”
“You are such a gentleman.”
“I keep trying to convince you I’m not. A gentleman wouldn’t invite you to have sex in the back of your own car in the middle of a cold Wyoming night while using your gas to keep the heater going.”
“Guess not.” She smiled. “That smacks of desperation.”
“I know, and if you want to veto the—”
“And I’m so desperate. Let’s do it.”
Ty tugged on the brim of his hat and nudged the speedometer up another notch. “Hot damn.”
10
TY HAD NO WISH to pick up a speeding ticket, but every time he looked at the needle, he was at least ten miles over and he had to force himself to ease up on the pedal. Excitement surged through him. They’d stopped talking, as if words would break the spell that anticipation had created.
He made it to her parking lot in far less time than prudent driving would have required, but he was a man on fire. Pulling into her numbered spot, he put the car in Park and left the motor running. “Be right back.” His voice sounded hoarse. It was a wonder he could talk at all, the way his heart was racing.
His hand shook as he unlocked his truck and reached for the latch on the console compartment. The latch resisted, and he swore. Take it easy, Slater. Don’t jam it or you’ll be one sorry SOB.
Stepping back, he took a deep breath. Then he tried again, and the latch popped open. The box of condoms was cold to the touch, and he wondered if the condoms would be cold, too. Wouldn’t matter for long. He shoved the box in his coat pocket and locked his truck.
He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman so much that he turned into fumblefingers. He hoped putting down the backseat wouldn’t be too tricky because he was trembling as if he had a fever. Which in a way, he did.
Hurrying back to the car, he unbuttoned his coat. Even the sudden chill didn’t cool him off. As he opened the driver’s side door, warm air spilled out and the dome light came on. Apparently he wouldn’t have to worry about putting down the backseat. She’d already done it.
Even more amazing, she’d come up with a blanket and spread it across the upholstered surface. Her coat lay crumpled on the front passenger seat and she sat in back taking off her shoes. She looked up and smiled. “You might want to come in through the side door.” Then she tossed her shoe into the front seat and began taking off the other one.
He passed her the condom box, ditched his coat and hat, then crawled in through the side door.
He’d moved fast, but that didn’t explain why he was having trouble breathing. No, that was all Whitney’s fault. She was wiggling out of her jeans. He sat immobilized as she revealed creamy thighs and shapely calves. And her panties were bright pink.
Then the dome light clicked off and everything went back to shades of gray. He tugged off his boots and unsnapped his cuffs as she thr
ew her jeans in the front. His eyes had adjusted enough that he could tell she was pulling her sweater over her head. He’d bet her bra was bright pink, too. He didn’t want muted gray and indistinct shadows, damn it.
The sweater went sailing in the same direction as her other clothes. Then she came toward him on her hands and knees. “Need help, cowboy?”
“Just light.” His shirt snaps popped as he wrenched it open. “I didn’t think about us being in the dark. God, but I want to see you!”
“Can’t help you there.” She knelt in front of him, her breathing shallow. “But you can touch me in the dark.” And she unhooked the front of her bra.
He sucked in a breath. Even in the weak light, he could tell that she was magnificent, worthy of being sculpted by a master. Reaching out, he slid the straps of her bra free and it fell to the blanket.
“I can almost see you,” he murmured. “Tomorrow night I will, but for now...” He cradled a warm breast in each hand and she shivered. “Cold?” He stroked his thumbs over her taut nipples.
“Excited. You really know how to touch a girl so she feels special.”
“You are special.” He kneaded her full breasts. “I love touching you like this, even if...”
“If what?”
“If the more I do it, the harder I get.”
“Then do you want to—”
“Nope. Let me play.”
She swallowed. “You’re very good at playing.”
“Glad you think so.”
“I’ve spent the past ten miles dreaming of you...playing.” She covered his hands with hers, lifting her breasts as she leaned toward him. “And kissing me...here.”
With a groan, he dipped his head and placed rapid, openmouthed kisses all over her silken breasts. As her breathing quickened, he used his tongue to lick and tease his way to one pert nipple. He circled it slowly once and then once again before nibbling gently with his teeth. At last he drew it into his mouth and began to suck.
Moaning, she arched her back and clutched his head. He hollowed his cheeks and pulled her in deep as he massaged her breasts with both hands. Heat simmered in his groin, pulsing in his rigid cock and aching balls.
Not yet. Not yet. He feasted on her other breast until she quivered and dug her fingertips into his scalp. When she began to pant, he absorbed the wonder of what was happening. Just this, only this, and he could make her come. He tugged more rhythmically on her breast.
A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe Page 9