Cowboy Up

by Stacy Finz

  “Fine,” Jace said. “Change of subject. How do you think it went with Ellie and your parents?”

  “As good as can be expected. They, of course, were crazy about Ellie. Ellie…well, she’s still testing the waters.”

  His mom had brought a dozen presents. Ellie had certainly liked that, though she’d pretended to be indifferent. Even his dad, who was quiet and often remote, had been so attentive that Cash had asked his mother, “What have you done with my real father?”

  “Oh hush.” She’d swatted him. “This is a dream come true for both of us. The only thing that could possibly make it better is you finding a nice woman to settle down with.”

  He’d laughed because it was her constant refrain.

  By the end of the visit, Ellie had warmed up somewhat, taking her grandparents to the barn to show them some of her dressage moves on Sugar. No easy feat, because the horse had been trained to cut cattle, not perform in an arena.

  His folks reacted with so much pride, Cash thought they’d burst from it. And though Ellie had remained aloof, he was pretty sure she’d been tickled by the attention.

  Cash’s only regret was that Ellie hadn’t been more affectionate. Her grandmother had wanted to snuggle with her and Ellie had drawn an invisible line in the dirt.

  “It’s normal,” his mother had assured him. “In fact, I’d be worried about her if she was too open, too accepting. She’s a smart, cautious girl, just like her father.” She’d poked him to get her point across.

  All in all, it had been a positive visit. He just wanted Ellie to find her footing with him.

  “Let me ask you something.” Cash turned his focus back to Jace. “When Mary Ann left, did the boys have nightmares?”

  Jace tried to remember. It had been more than two years since she’d walked out. “Nah, but they were clingy. Grady used to hold on to my leg to keep me from going to work in the morning. I think they thought I’d walk out and never come back.” Like Mary Ann had. “Why, is Ellie having nightmares?”

  “Yeah. You think I should get her grief counseling?”

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Jace hadn’t done it when his ex deserted them; perhaps he should’ve. But other than chasing off babysitters, which the boys did for sport, they seemed fairly well adjusted. At least, he thought they were. “But kids are pretty resilient, Cash. Ellie’s in mourning and she’s in a new place. There’s bound to be a bad dream or two. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

  Cash sank into the chair again. “That’s the thing; since she came into my life, I worry about everything. Is she eating right? Is she getting too much sun? Is she on her phone too often?” He rubbed his chin. “I’m crazy, right?”

  Jace chuckled. “Nope. Welcome to parenthood. Word on the street is that the worrying never ends, so get used to it. In the meantime, I wouldn’t get too worked up about the bad dreams. All kids have them.”

  “I’ll see how she does.” He stared at the wall for a few moments, lost in his own thoughts, then, just as quickly, snapped back. “You need to get on to the Beals property again to take a good look around.”

  Cash had returned to his default: the case. He could tell himself he was through with law enforcement all he wanted to, but Jace knew it for the bullshit it was.

  “My gut tells me those cattle never left the ranch,” Cash continued.

  “You still think it was some sort of a mobile slaughterhouse setup?” Jace asked.

  That would’ve been mighty brazen, unless, of course, the thieves knew the Bealses would be away for the week. Jace didn’t know how many employees they had or whether their hands even lived on the ranch. It was something else to look in to.

  “That would be my hunch.”

  Cash’s hunches were usually spot on. He was one of the best investigators Jace knew.

  “What’s Red say about all this?” Cash asked.

  “Not a lot; he’s too busy planning his retirement party. He did contact about a dozen auction houses, though, to see if any cattle with the Beals brand had shown up. Nada.” He leaned across his desk and jabbed Cash in the shoulder. “You should take the job.”

  Cash got to his feet. “Nope, I’m done.”

  Funny, for a done guy, he’d just spent forty minutes going over the case with Jace as if he was the lead investigator.

  “Gotcha.” Jace flipped a pencil at him. “Sawyer and I think we should build up the ranch again, start a cow-calf operation like Grandpa had. Why don’t you run that?”

  “With what money?” Cash asked. “We can’t even afford the property taxes. How do you plan to pay for a breeding herd, a new barn, feed when we experience the next drought? Hell, we don’t even have enough to fix the fencing.”

  “That’s what banks are for, Cash. The land, the houses, it’s all paid off. A lender would give us a loan in a second. Half the developers in Northern California, including Mitch, would sell their firstborn for Dry Creek Ranch. But we’re not selling, I can tell you that right now.”

  “You have to make payments on loans. Do you and Sawyer have a plan of how to even pay the taxes? Because I sure the hell don’t.”

  He grabbed his hat off Jace’s rack and put it on his head. “The Bealses. Get a warrant if you have to, but make sure an evidence crew combs that ranch with a fine-tooth comb ASAP. Mark my words, your answers are there.”

  When Cash left, Jace got on the phone. It was time to do a little judge shopping.

  * * * *

  Cash found two things on his porch steps when he got home: a subpoena to testify at Whiting’s trial and Aubrey.

  “When I accepted it from the guy, I thought it was mail, like a certified letter,” Aubrey said as she read the subpoena over Cash’s shoulder. “Are you in trouble or getting sued? Did I screw up?”

  “Nah. I’m a witness in a murder trial.” It was a simplification. He’d been the lead investigator on the Whiting case until he’d gotten taken off it. “I don’t know why they just didn’t email me.” Being served on his family’s ranch seemed like overkill. It wasn’t as if Cash would skip the date. He wanted justice for Casey Farmington and the three other women Whiting killed.

  “The Presidio murders?” Aubrey sat on the top step and hugged her knees, drawing Cash’s attention to her long bare legs. They were tan and perfect, and he remembered every inch of them wrapped around his waist.

  “Yeah,” he said, not surprised she knew about the case. It had been splashed across the news for twelve straight months. The entire year, reporters had dogged him. The Bureau had a strict policy against talking to the press. Everything had to go through the public information officer. Cash had made the critical mistake of following the rules. Maybe if he hadn’t, Casey would still be alive today.

  He sank down next to her, put his face in his hands, and massaged his eyes.

  “You don’t want to do it? You don’t want to testify?”

  Not particularly. Besides not wanting to relive Whiting’s vile confession, which surely would be the bulk of Cash’s testimony because he’d been the one to get it, he didn’t want to have to discredit the agency he’d given his life to. “It’s complicated.”

  “Does it have to do with the reason you quit being an FBI agent?” she asked.

  “I was fired.” He took off his hat and put it down on its crown.

  “Why?”

  It was a fair question, but Cash had avoided talking about it in any great depth because despite everything, he still felt loyal to his former employer. “My bosses and I had a difference of opinion.”

  Aubrey gave him a long assessment. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I didn’t agree with the way we were handling the case.”

  “Weren’t you entitled to your opinion?”

  He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Let’s just say there was a lot of politics behind the scene
s, supervisors who were hoping to make their bones on the case. I got in the way of that, and because I was lower on the pecking order…well, you know what they say: Shit rolls downhill.”

  “I don’t understand. What does politics have to do with a murder investigation?”

  Beautiful, smart, and perceptive. Where had she been all his life?

  “You would think,” he said and brushed a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail out of her face. “You still mad at me?”

  “I was never mad. And you’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes, I am.” He leaned over and kissed her. She tasted good, like maple syrup and coffee. “Did you have pancakes for breakfast?”

  “Uh-huh.” She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him in for another kiss. Whether she’d been angry with him before was up for debate. But clearly, she was over it now judging by her kisses. “How about you? What did you have for breakfast?”

  His hands wandered, roaming freely over her blouse. It was loose and easy to get under, and he took full advantage, fondling her breasts. “I went to the coffee shop after I dropped Ellie and the boys off at rock camp.”

  “Rock as in music?” She moved onto his lap.

  They were still kissing, and he wanted to focus on that instead of talking. Actually, he wanted to focus on a whole lot more than just kissing.

  “No, as in rocks. Gemstones and that kind of thing. Wanna go inside?”

  “Okay,” she said, a little breathless.

  He didn’t bother to wait for her to follow him across the porch. Impatient, he scooped her up and carried her inside. She giggled, and for some crazy reason it made him even harder than he already was.

  “Don’t drop me.”

  He gave her a look like she’d insulted his masculinity, then proceeded to pretend to drop her. More giggles, and his fly strained to the point of bursting.

  “We might have to skip foreplay,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I like foreplay.” She played with his belt buckle as he made his way to the master bedroom. If she didn’t stop, he was going to take her up against the wall in the hallway.

  “Then we’ll have foreplay,” he said and brushed her hand away. “But don’t blame me if I don’t make it to the end of the rodeo.”

  “I have the utmost faith that your ride will be a heck of lot longer than eight seconds.” She dragged his shirt over his head and ran her nails down his chest, making him suck in a breath.

  He pulled down her shorts—thank God for elastic waistbands, because he was too hurried to mess with buttons and zippers. This time, she had on a thong similar to the one she’d worn on the day he found her climbing through her old office window. Just a mere scrap of lace that was hotter than hell.

  She started to take it off and he immediately pressed her hand down. “Leave it,” he said in a growl.

  The blouse and bra, though, had to go. He wanted his hands and his mouth on her breasts. With some dexterity, he managed to get both off in about a second flat. The bed was a few feet away and he didn’t know if he’d make it without being inside her first. Cash had never felt this kind of urgency before. He’d always had a hearty appetite for sex, but this was different, like a craving that couldn’t be quenched.

  She began working on his jeans. He could do it more deftly, so again, he pushed her hands away and somehow managed to get the legs off over his boots.

  “That’s a good look.” She laughed as he stood there in nothing but black cowboy boots.

  “Hush.” He pressed his mouth against hers and kissed her long and hard, shoving her against the wall. “Not gonna make it to the bed.”

  Cash pushed the thong to one side and felt her. “You’re so wet for me.” Knowing that he could arouse her that way, that fast, whipped him higher.

  He rubbed his erection against her, and she moaned with pleasure and threw her head back against the wall. Cash lifted one of her legs and hooked it around his hip and entered her with one hard thrust. Aubrey whimpered, and for a second he thought it may have been too much. But when she grabbed his ass and pushed against him, he wrapped her other leg around him and carried her to the bed, walking and moving within her at the same time.

  By the time they got to the bed, he remembered that in his desperation for her, he’d forgotten a condom. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “No protection,” he grunted, knowing he should stop but finding it next to impossible.

  “I’m on the pill.” She pulled him to the edge of the mattress and thrust up, pleading for him to go faster. Harder.

  He slid his hands under her and pushed her further back on the bed so he could mount her. Then he reached in his nightstand and pulled out a strip of condoms. Marie had said she was on the pill too. He didn’t for one minute think Aubrey was lying, but it wasn’t in his DNA to take risks. His job was to protect her.

  “Hang on.” He pulled out, feeling immediately bereft of her warm tightness.

  “No, come back,” she protested, trying to pull him back down on top of her.

  “One second, I promise.” He suited up, cupped her ass, lifted her up, and slammed back in. She whimpered, then clawed his back to urge him on. Cash pumped into her a like a crazed man. “This okay?”

  “This…this is amazing,” she said in a breathy voice.

  He kissed her breasts and worked his way up to her neck and throat, ending at her lips. Who knew that maple syrup was an aphrodisiac? His hands fondled and rubbed her full breasts. Whoever said more than a handful was a waste was full of shit. He’d never been particular about size, but Aubrey’s breasts did it for him. They were round and firm and high, with pretty pink nipples. Her legs—damn, he loved Aubrey’s legs—gripped him hard.

  “You ride horses?” he said against her mouth.

  “Occasionally, why?”

  “Strong thighs.” He lifted her bottom so he could go deeper.

  “Oh, oh, Cash.” She clung to his shoulders as she tried to meet him thrust for thrust. “This is soooo good.”

  “Let’s slow down.” He wanted it to last, to make it as good for her as humanly possible, even though he was holding on by a thread.

  She twined her arms around his neck and scraped his earlobe with her teeth. It was erotic as hell. He let her roll him over so she could get on top and she rode him that way, giving him a spectacular show. God, she was gorgeous.

  Cash gripped her hips, guiding her faster, and when he could tell she was close, he touched her with his finger, drawing circles around her center. She cried out, and he could feel her convulse around him, her whole body shaking. He thrust up, over and over again, trying to draw out the orgasm for as long as it would last.

  Then he rolled her under him to take his turn. He tried it slow at first, staring into her green eyes, feeling his throat clog with every stroke. It was the eyes, he told himself. Bottomless pools of emerald. They were bewitching him.

  He increased the pace, losing his ability to hang on any longer. She moved with him, keeping the tempo he’d set. And before long, he felt himself standing at the top of cliff. With one fluid stroke, he tumbled down, calling her name.

  Afterward, they lay there for a while in each other’s arms, silent except for the whir of the ceiling fan and their breathing. He was slick with sweat, and Aubrey’s skin was rosy. She curled up next to him and rested her head on his chest.

  “That was intense.”

  A little too intense, Cash thought but didn’t say anything. She’d crept in too deep, and he didn’t know what to do with that. Not now, when everything else was so complicated.

  He played with her hair, which had completely fallen out of its rubber band and was now spread across his chest. It was soft and smelled like fruit and he liked twirling it around his finger.

  “Why didn’t you come to Jace’s barbecue?” He hadn’t
planned to ask her that, or to let on that he’d been disappointed when she hadn’t shown. But this was what happened after mind-blowing sex. You opened yourself up to feelings you didn’t want to face.

  “I thought it should just be family. For Ellie. And for your parents, who are just getting to know her.”

  “Not because I disagree with your handling of Mitch?”

  She snuggled closer. “No. You’re entitled to disagree and I’m entitled to handle the situation any way I see fit.”

  She was indeed. But Cash fervently thought she was making a mistake. Lies begot more lies until the lies blew up in a person’s face.

  “When do you have to testify?” she asked, segueing back to their unfinished conversation about the case.

  “Next Monday. Jace said he’d take Ellie for the night while I’m in San Francisco.”

  “I’d offer to come with you for moral support, but I have a job interview.”

  “You do?” He rolled over to face her. The news had surprised him, though he didn’t know why. Obviously she needed employment, and from what he could tell, she was a top-notch designer, someone who would be sought after.

  “Mm-hmm. I had a phone interview this morning. It went pretty well, I guess, because he’s flying me out to Las Vegas Monday morning.”

  “Vegas?” He didn’t want to call it panic, but the idea of her moving away…well, she’d just sprung it on him and he hadn’t been prepared. “Is that where the assignment is, or would this be permanent?”

  “Permanent. They’re huge developers, much larger than Reynolds, and they have residential projects across Nevada. Unlike Mitch’s company, they have an entire staff of interior designers. If I get it, I would have minions.”

  He should’ve been more enthusiastic for her. Aubrey certainly was and why shouldn’t she be? It sounded like a great career move. Big company, a growing city, minions. “They pay well and offer benefits? I hear Nevada employers don’t have the same labor requirements as California.” The truth was, he didn’t know dick about Nevada’s labor laws.