A Man of His Word

by Sarah M. Anderson

  Except for when her aunt Emily came in to check on her and to thank Dan for all the cookies, they worked in near silence for the rest of the day. Rosebud kept a safe distance from him above the table, but underneath, she rested one bare foot on his thigh.

  Friday seemed a hell of a long way off.

  Five days later, as he rode Smokey toward Bonneau Creek, the first thing Dan noticed was the way the world hushed around him. The silence wasn’t something that came down like a hammer, but instead seemed to sneak up on him until he couldn’t hear anything but the sound of Smokey’s legs cutting through the tall grass. No birds. No bugs. Not even the wind blew.

  A twig snapped. Dan zeroed in on the noise. About a hundred yards over his right shoulder, on the same deer path he’d heard it the first time. He grinned. She’d come. Keeping his ear focused on the spot, he carefully turned Smokey.

  He blinked. Instead of his Indian princess, Rosebud sat astride her paint, buried within the shadows of the wood. Her horse took one more step out of the woods and into the sunlight. Her hair hung in a long, loose braid draped over her shoulder underneath a straw cowboy hat. She had on a plain white tank top, jeans and boots this time.

  Same smile, though. She trotted down to him, and he took the time to appreciate the way her body moved. “Hi.”

  He leaned over as far as he could in the saddle and kissed her. Honey sweet—he wondered if the rest of her tasted the same. “I thought you were beautiful the first time, but I think I like you even better like this. More modern.”

  Her mouth opened and shut while she gave him a hell of a look. Yup—she was biting her inner lip again. He was getting a little tired of his former hat coming between them. Dan wished she’d just tell him the truth—and why would be nice, while she was at it. Giving her time to get herself organized, he turned Smokey north. At a walk, it would take them an hour and a half to get to the cabin.

  “Here’s what I don’t understand,” she said as her paint came parallel with him. “If you think that I took that shot, why are you here with me now?”

  “I don’t think.” The horses fell into an easy stride, and he gave Smokey his head. They’d made this journey every night this week in preparation—although sometimes Dan took a different route, just in case. Smokey knew where they were going. “I know.”

  “If I took that shot,” she repeated with more force.

  Stubborn to the very end, he thought with a smile. He’d sort of thought that saving her at the bar might have gotten him a little more in the trust department, but he wasn’t really surprised. “My mother always says, ‘Most every person has a reason.’”

  “And you think that person who took the shot had a reason?”

  Dan’s eyes swept along the valley and over the woman at his side. Her hips swiveled with every step her horse took, and her chest was a thing of beauty in slow motion. She held the tail end of the reins in her free hand, against her thigh. The sun glittered off her bare arms, but his eyes kept coming back to her face. No forced smiles, no dangerous stares. Just Rosebud, as nature intended. She belonged here, by the river, on horseback—not in some stuffy suit in an ugly office.

  Most every person had a reason. He’d made it through all the police reports for vandalism on the rez in the past seven months. What had she said, back at the beginning? “What if that person had reason to believe they were shooting at someone who had ‘engaged in a campaign of intimidation against members of the tribe’—that’s what you said, right?” He knew now that was lawyer-speak for someone had been slashing tires and leaving bloody animal parts on her doorstep. She’d given him the files, but he hadn’t asked her about the dead animals yet.

  She was silent. He forced himself not to look at her. She’d spook easy right now, and that wasn’t what led to a good weekend. But he wanted to know—he had to know—before they took this date to the next level. “That would be…a reason, but I’m sure that person wasn’t trying to hit you. I’m sure that person was just trying to scare you off. I’m sure it was a mistake—just a mistake.”

  Lawyers, he thought with a snort. Still, this was progress. At least they were talking about it—without blanket denials. “That person needs to work on her aim. Scared the hell out of me—and Smokey.” Smokey bobbed his head in agreement.

  In the distance, he could see the river bend. After that, it was less than a mile until Bonneau Creek fed into the Dakota. They were halfway there.

  Part of him—the part that needed to keep her safe—wanted to ask her if she knew who Shane Thrasher was, if that was who she’d thought she’d shot. But the part of him that was going to spend the weekend hidden away from the world with his Indian princess—that part held him back. They couldn’t do anything about Thrasher right now anyway. No need to ruin the moment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said unexpectedly. Her voice was soft and shaky, he thought, like she was making a confession. “I’ll pay for your new hat. It’s a nice one.”

  Now he did look at her. She was holding the reins so tight that her knuckles were white, and she was blinking at an unnaturally fast clip. It wasn’t much of a confession, but it was something more than she’d given him before. “It won’t happen again, will it?”

  “No.”

  That was the truth, he could tell. Finally, there wasn’t anything else between them. He reached over and rubbed her arm. He had her word, and that was good enough for him. “It’s all right.” She gave him a hesitant smile. Maybe she didn’t believe him? “It really is. It was just a hat.” It was nice of her to offer to pay for his new one, but she probably didn’t have an extra thousand bucks lying around.

  “It was almost your head.” Her eyes were wet as she looked at him.

  He held up a hand to cut her off. “It’s done and over, and dwelling doesn’t do anyone any good. I know you now. I know you’re not some cold-blooded killer.” He stood up in the stirrups to get closer to her. Smokey came to a confused halt, and Rosebud’s paint followed suit. Dan was planning on hauling Rosebud over to him, but he didn’t have to. She met him halfway, grabbing a handful of his shirt to brace him. “I trust you, Rosebud.”

  He was semibalanced about a foot away from her face. He wanted to kiss her, but he was afraid he might head-butt her at this angle. Her cheeks prettied up, but she held his gaze—and his shirt. “I shouldn’t trust you,” she said, looking coy and embarrassed at the same time.

  “But?”

  “But I do.” She shot forward, and he felt her lips graze his cheek before she let go. He sat back down in the saddle hard, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. “I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to you,” she said.

  Now that sounded like a good weekend in the making. “Good. Now, I want to see you ride that horse.” He touched his heels to Smokey’s side and picked up speed. “Come on, darlin’,” he called over his shoulder. “Let’s get gone!”

  She let out a “Yeah!” and came thundering up behind him.

  The weekend had officially begun.

  Twelve

  Feeling lighter than she had in a long time, Rosebud watched as Dan built the campfire with his bare hands as the sun set lazily behind the woods. She’d apologized—without actually admitting any wrongdoing—and he’d forgiven her. She was on a vacation of sorts. She hadn’t had a true day off since last Christmas, and she felt giddy about spending it with—whoa. He took his T-shirt off and used it to fan the fire.

  Holy cow, Dan shirtless was about a thousand times better than Dan clothed—and he was pretty damn fine with his shirt on. She must have whistled, because his head popped up and he shot her a grin that walked a fine line between snarky and sultry. Was she really doing this? Running away for the weekend with a white man—an Armstrong, no less? It was one thing to get swept away while dancing at a bar—but this? This was a certain kind of crazy. Rationally, she knew she shouldn’t trust him. But rational had nothing to do with anything anymore.

  For a second, she felt horrible that she’d missed
out on this last week. She rubbed the small Band-Aid on her forehead. Nope. Not thinking about it. She had too much else to think about right now—like Dan hauling a bucket of water up from the creek for the horses. Wow. Muscles in action.

  She was staring. Again. Dan brushed the horses, a true cowboy to the core. His hands moved the brush over each muscle with due diligence. Logically, she knew the horses had to be cooled down before they could get on with their evening, but she didn’t know how much longer she could wait for him.

  The weight between her legs was heavy, and the tension of holding in sheer, unadulterated desire was wearing her out. The ride out here had gotten her blood pumping, and Dan doing chores kept it pumping. She tore her eyes away from his bare torso and dug her condoms out of her bag.

  No nightstand. Hmm. The bed was one of those old-fashioned foldable things on metal springs, but the sheets were fresh and surprisingly soft. Much softer than the ones she had at home. God, how much would that thing squeak? Finally, she decided to put the condoms just under the bed—within reach, but not exactly in line of sight. She might only have another three weeks with Dan—she had to make it count. After the court date, she had no idea what would happen. She found herself hoping he would stay, but she was afraid he was itching to get back to Texas.

  Condoms tucked away, she straightened up as she heard him kick off his boots at the door. If she turned around, she might just throw herself at him, so she stayed put. “You’ve been busy.”

  Dan wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back into his chest. He smelled of horse and wood smoke, with just a little of that sandalwood. He whipped off his hat and threw it onto the only other piece of furniture in the room, a rickety table. She officially didn’t care how much the bed would squeak. “Not the penthouse or anything, but how do you like it?” His voice was low and close to her ear. Then he kissed her neck.

  Which it was that—the cabin, the man in it or what she wanted to do to that man? Didn’t matter. “I love it.”

  “I brought dinner.” His stubble scratched over her ear as his arms tightened around her waist. One hand splayed out just below her breast, the other found her hip, and they were dancing again, slow and sweet. The heat from his chest made her shirt stick to her back. “If you’re hungry.”

  Keeping time with the silent rhythm of their bodies, she turned in his arms. His eyes locked on to hers. The scent of sex seemed to pour off his skin, filling the room. “I didn’t come here for dinner.”

  “Me neither.” This time, he didn’t wait for permission, and he didn’t hold back. His lips fastened onto hers with a driving need that must have tripped another wire in her brain, because all of a sudden she was yanking his belt free and he was peeling her shirt off and the next thing she knew, the bed was squeaking. Loudly.

  She couldn’t help but giggle at the horrific noise. Anyplace else, and she’d be mortified that someone somewhere would hear them. But not here. She lifted her hips as he worked her jeans and panties off. She had no idea where her bra had gone, but in less than a minute, she was nude before him.

  A lone finger traced down between her aching breasts to just below her belly. “Damn.” The moment her legs were free of all unnecessary fabric, she sat up and began unbuttoning his jeans. The bed wailed in protest of all this movement, which set off another round of giggling, but then she froze. She hoped he didn’t think she was giggling at him.

  “It’s okay.” His voice was thick with strain as he grabbed at his back pocket before she could shuck his pants entirely. He pulled out a condom and tore it open with his teeth. He’d planned ahead, too. Could this man get any more perfect? “I kind of like it a little loud.”

  “Yeah?” Briefs. Not that they stayed on for long.

  He was—well, not huge per se, but firmly into the well-endowed category. Very firmly. He rolled the condom on and then knelt on the bed between her legs. The whole thing shuddered, and Dan paused to grip both sides of the mattress. The anticipation was going to kill her if the bed didn’t do her in first. “Maybe we should—”

  Nope. Not waiting another minute. She grabbed his face and hauled him down to her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She wanted to lick every inch of him until the taste of his musk was burned into her memory. She wanted to feel every inch of him until her hands had memorized every muscle. Make it count, she prayed.

  He pulled away, his chest heaving as he tested out the bed. It held. “Easy.”

  “I don’t want it easy.” Her fingers scraped over his chest and around to his backside. She pulled him toward her, toward the heaviness that was driving her mad. The slickness of the condom touched her, but having that dull weight on the outside wasn’t doing her any favors. “I want you. Now.”

  Moving slow enough not to flip the bed, he reached down between her legs and touched her center. His fingers spread her wide. He was against her, then in her. Her body convulsed. “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes,” she moaned, shimmying around his width. He pulled back—almost out—and a whimper escaped her lips.

  “This?” He drove all the way in, his head bowing over hers until their foreheads were touching. Panting, his breath surrounded her. He surrounded her, filled her. She was safe, here in his arms. Nothing and no one could hurt her.

  He was everything she’d hoped, but nothing like she’d imagined. Better. So much better. “Dan.”

  He pulled back again and paused. What was he waiting for? “Tell me what you want.” His voice was stretched thin, like he was just barely holding on to the edge of a steep cliff.

  Her hips shimmied again, hoping to draw him back in. “Loud?” Because what he wanted was what she wanted.

  “Yeah.” He moved in small circles, just inside her. He was toying with her, damn it.

  “Harder.” He buried himself with more force, and her cry broke free. “Oh!”

  He made a noise in the back of his throat, an instinctive growl that was pleasure and hunger and satisfaction all rolled into one. But again, he pulled back, slow and steady.

  Her orgasm was so close, but it was stuck behind a wall of three years of waiting for this exact moment. Dan had to break through that wall, he just had to. Slow and steady wasn’t the way. “Faster,” she demanded, smacking the flat of her hand on his behind. “Harder. Faster.”

  He grunted, his body picking up wonderful speed. Each thrust did make her louder. He was driving into her with a passion—a force—that she’d never felt before. All the wires in her brain tripped, and before she knew it, she was shouting his name in time with each meeting of their bodies.

  “Can’t…hold on…long,” he got out through clenched teeth.

  He drove in again, but this time his lips found hers. The final, intimate touch shattered the wall around her. Dan! But the word didn’t come. All that came was a scream that he seemed to swallow whole. He exploded in a flurry of hurried thrusts before his head flew back and he made a noise closer to a mountain lion roaring than a man coming. He shivered through a final half thrust and fell on top of her.

  The bed was silent while she tried to catch her breath with his weight on top of her. Sated, she ran the pads of her fingers over his back more slowly now, taking her time to really feel him.

  “Oh, Rosebud.” His voice was muffled against her neck—and then he started kissing her skin. “I—you—”

  She was afraid to open her mouth, because her head was buzzing with all the circuits he’d not only tripped, but blown completely. However, when his lips moved over her collarbone and began to make their way to her bare breasts, she started to giggle.

  His head popped up, and the bed creaked. “Rosebud?”

  “Oh, no, not you—I just— Oh, my God—you were amazing. I’ve been wanting—since that first time—on the horse—I mean—just, you know, that was amazing. Not that—you—you were—are—amazing.” Yup. Circuits blown. She was babbling.

  He propped himself up on one hand and grinned at her. “Interesting.” He sounde
d amused, which was probably the best she could hope for. “So, what you’re sayin’ is, you liked it.”

  “Uh-huh.” She couldn’t even get that out without another round of giggles as he swung his legs over the bed. She rolled over and traced the shape of his shoulder blades. No, she decided, he couldn’t get any more perfect.

  “And you wouldn’t mind doin’ it again a little later?”

  “Not too much later.”

  That made him laugh, and despite the bed’s protests, he reached around, picked her up—actually picked her up—and sat her on his lap. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids. “Can you wait half an hour?”

  Finally, she felt a little bit of sanity returning to her brain. “I suppose I don’t have much choice, do I?” She needed to get cleaned up. Some recovery time would probably be good for both of them.

  At that moment, Rosebud realized there was no bathroom in the cabin.

  Dan laughed again, a satisfied sound rounded out by happiness. “You’ve got your choice of the tree to the left, or the bush to the right.”

  She stretched out on his lap, and his hands slid over her bare flesh. “Bush.” She’d peed behind both trees and bushes, and the bush held the promise of slightly more coverage.

  By the time she got her clothes back on, Dan was crouched before the fire. A plush blanket was spread out on the ground and over some old stumps, giving them someplace to sit. Dinner was the best cold fried chicken and biscuits she’d ever eaten. Then he broke out the marshmallows and chocolate wrapped in gold foil. “S’mores?” That chocolate looked far too expensive to waste on graham crackers.

  “We’re camping,” he replied, stripping a stick and handing it to her. By now, the sun had set, and the only light for miles around was a crescent moon and the fire. “I think there’s a law that says if you’ve got a campfire, you’ve got to make s’mores.” Stripping his own stick, he sat down next to her.