Nobody's Cowboy (The Big Sky Mavericks Book 2)

by Debra Salonen

  She loved seeing him work for control. She reveled in the power and the heat building between them. She fell forward, her hands on either side of his head, and closed her eyes as the urgency built. His hands grasped her hips, anchoring her to receive each upward thrust completely. She swore she felt him at the center of her core. Once. Twice. The third time was the charm that made her breath catch and a burst of glorious color explode from the inside out. She barely heard his shout a few thrusts later because she was too busy basking in the powerful, mind-blowing aftershocks of her own orgasm.

  Her arms trembled and she fell against him. His arms locked across her back with a possessiveness that felt completely right. Even if it wasn’t.

  She fought to keep reality at bay a few moments longer but with her eyes closed she couldn’t avoid seeing the sender’s name on his text: Sheri Fast. His old girlfriend. Someone who never stopped working on his case. Intuition told her his world wanted him back.

  “Can we stay here all night?”

  The rumble of his voice made the image scatter. “Uh-huh,” she murmured, tasting the saltiness of his skin. “Forever. They’ll find our skeletons, and there’ll be a huge, scandalous investigation.”

  His chuckle jiggled her body. “Speaking of scandals, I’ve gotten three or four calls from Sheri tonight. I let them go to voice mail because I didn’t want to disturb the ’pacas. Something must be going down in Helena.”

  Tell him or play dumb?

  “I saw you had a text from her. It dinged when I was turning on the light. Do you want me to grab you phone for you?”

  His arms tightened. “No, way,” he said emphatically. “I’ll call her in the morning. I like this island we’ve created.” He looked around. “Well, maybe not the cobwebs, but other than that I’m serious. I never want to leave.” His tummy rumbled. “Except maybe to eat.”

  She rolled to one side and got to her knees. She used her panties to clear up a bit, then handed Austen his shorts. “I’m starved. How do egg sandwiches sound?”

  He drew himself up on one elbow and tenderly looped a lock of hair behind her ear. “You read my mind.” His brows knitted in a Machiavellian look. “What else do I see happening when we get to your house?”

  She played the coy Southern belle. “Why, sir, whatever do you mean? The two of us? Alone. Un-chaperoned. Who knows what devilment we might find ourselves in?”

  His laugh made her happy… and a little sad. She was going to miss him more than she’d counted on once the real world got its hands on him. But, tonight, he was all hers.

  Chapter Ten

  The two weeks that followed Austen witnessing Ditto’s birth—the name he’d picked the next morning when they saw how much the leggy infant resembled her mother—flew past in a blink. He bought a second ATV to leave at Serena’s gate. Together they designed a lean-to using old lumber she found on the property. Paul’s crew gave Austen a few pointers when they came out to install the new security gate, but other than that, he built it himself while Serena was at school. He could honestly say not a single accomplishment from the last four years made him as proud.

  They saw each other nearly every night, either at his place or hers. He helped with the animals—and could identify at least a dozen by name. He couldn’t believe how fast Ditto was growing. When he mentioned this startling fact to his brother, Paul laughed so hard he bent over holding his side. “The tin man has a heart. Who knew? I can’t wait to tell Bailey.”

  The tin man. He’d been called worse over the years. Ironically, he’d also been called a horn dog—wrongly. He enjoyed beautiful women, but as Sheri Fast so succinctly put it, “Being seen with and being with are two different things.” He’d also been deemed a wastrel—which he believed meant a complete waste of a person—and his personal favorite… a solipsist—someone so egotistical he barely acknowledged that other people existed. Wrong. Dead wrong. Serena existed and she’d become an integral part of his day.

  But since school started, she’d been available less often to hang out, teach him the tricks of the alpaca trade and, of course, sneak off to make love when the spirit moved them. Which was often. He loved her spontaneity. Was that something she got from homeschooling? If so, he wanted to homeschool his children when—

  “Whoa, Nelly,” he muttered, stopping so suddenly Beau, who’d been helping him muck out the stalls, barked.

  Austen soothed him. “Sorry, boy. Just a life altering epiphany. That’s all.”

  I want children. With Serena. I want a life with Serena.

  But where? Despite Sheri’s assurance twelve days ago that she was close to breaking his case wide open, thereby paving the way for him to return to Helena, nothing had happened. At times he asked himself if he even cared. Yes, he wanted to clear his name. He wanted vindication, but, lately, that whole world felt foreign—the kind of place one visited for the food and culture. He’d thrived in it at one time. Hell, a few months ago he couldn’t picture himself living anywhere else. But, now, he could almost… almost… see himself staying here. With Serena. With her goofy animals. Her giant dog.

  He walked to the fence, climbed a rung and looked around. Would ranching be enough to fulfill him? What if he got bored? What would his family say? He could almost hear the Marietta gossips having a field day. “Did you hear about Austen Zabrinski? Threw away a career in politics to raise alpacas. You heard me. Alpacas. The man went to Harvard, for heaven’s sake. How crazy can he be to waste a world class education to become a rancher in Marietta?”

  He threw a leg over the fence, hopped down then walked to the shed he’d built with his own two hands. Moments later, he flew across the now well-defined path between the two houses. Any long-term life decisions would have to wait. He had a lunch date in town with his brother.

  An hour later, he walked into Marietta’s Main Street Diner. Owner Paige Joffrey greeted him with a smile and pointed toward a booth across the room. Paul had texted earlier to say he was bringing a surprise.

  A blonde surprise, Austen realized, as he got closer.

  “Sheri,” he said. “It’s been awhile. What are you doing in town?”

  She stood, not a hair of her sleek French twist out of place, her Armani suit as crisp as if she’d just exited a dry cleaners. When she bent to retrieve something from her briefcase-size purse, Austen noticed several men’s gazes drawn to lean, shapely hips and generous bosom. When they’d dated, the paparazzi had labeled them The Golden Duo.

  “I’m here to celebrate,” she said, handing him a bottle of Cristal.

  His heart did a strange, sideways lurch in his chest. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. I did it,” she said simply. “You are completely vindicated. I’ve been assured Crandy’s drafting his resignation statement as we speak. It should be on the six o’clock news.”

  Then she threw her arms around him and planted a big, passionate kiss right on his mouth. She didn’t seem to notice he wasn’t kissing her back. Her triumphant grin didn’t look the least bit daunted when she pulled back and cried loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear, “You can come home now, Austen. Pick up where you left off and get on with your life. Aren’t you excited? It’s over. It’s really, truly over.”

  A smattering of spontaneous applause broke out. People, old friends, even complete strangers came up to him to slap his back and shake his hand. Paul called their parents who rushed straight to the diner for an impromptu celebration. Mia came, too, of course. Her kids were in school and apparently doing better than anyone expected. He wondered if Serena had something to do with that.

  Sheri had her delivery down to a few sound bites. “I knew Austen was innocent of malfeasance, but proving that took longer than expected because, in part, the one person who could have cleared up the matter was dead. It is my firm conviction that Jenny Paulson’s death was not suicide. The justice department is re-opening the case.”

  Sheri picked up her phone. “In fact, Austen, I promised Will Paulson I would call as soo
n as I had a chance.”

  “Paulson? Why? He wants a live video feed for his blog?”

  “The blog is down. Instead, he’s written a tribute to Jenny and a heartfelt apology to you. He wants to tell you that face to face, too.” She reached across the table and touched his hand. “Be nice. People make mistakes.”

  Didn’t he know it? This was a mistake. He wasn’t some vanquished hero redeemed. He’d played Crandy’s games with the best of them. He’d lied on occasion. He’d bent the rules when he was asked and made the most of the lucre that came from turning a blind eye. He was more cowboy than hero, and if you asked anyone in Marietta, they’d tell you he was nobody’s cowboy.

  But he’d played the game long enough that he could perform on cue, apparently.

  Sheri handed him her phone so he could “face time” the man who’d made it his personal mission to ruin Austen’s life. “Son, I’m as sorry as a human being can be. I was wrong. You didn’t kill my Jenny girl and thanks to your friend, Miss Fast, the right person is going to be held accountable.”

  Austen gave his forgiveness. He said the right things. His mother cried. His sister looked a little sick.

  When the focus shifted to Sheri, he turned to Mia and asked, “Are you okay?”

  She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you are completely cleared of charges, Austen. I’m very happy you have your old life back. But for the past week or so, I’ve seriously been weighing the pros and cons of running for DA. I wouldn’t dream of mounting a campaign if you weren’t here to run it. So… I’ll start looking for a Plan B.”

  “I have to go back to Helena.”

  “I know.”

  “But I haven’t decided whether or not I’ll stay.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  He lowered his voice. “I like my life here.”

  She glanced across the table at their parents who were treating Sheri like she’d just cured cancer. “To visit. Holidays. A few weeks in summer. I get it, Austen. But what you think you have here isn’t real. You were playing cowboy. You had some fun with Serena. Nobody—even Serena—expected you to stay if things got cleared up in Helena. She’ll understand. She’s a great gal. She’ll find Mr. Right, no question about it.”

  Of course, she would. But where did that leave him?

  “Would I really be such a failure if I came home to be a rancher? I could even run a campaign or two on the side. Maybe we could open a law office together. You handle the icky cases and I’ll do the money stuff.”

  She grabbed both his arms as if to shake some sense into him. She kept her voice low. “Don’t make any hasty decisions, Austen. This is your life we’re talking about. You busted your butt to get into Harvard. We both know how hard you worked to make it in Helena. You can’t throw it away because you have feelings for a woman you just met. You can’t trust love, Austen. Look what love did to me.”

  *

  Serena barely made into the house after chores before the texts hit, bing, bing, bing.

  Bailey’s came first: Turn on the news.

  Serena grabbed a beer from the fridge then clicked on the remote. She was expecting Austen for dinner, so she took out a package of tofu to stir-fry with the bunch of chard she’d bought at a garden stand on the way home.

  Mia’s text came second: Have you heard? Call me.

  Something about that one’s tone made her take a good long swig of beer before typing: Not yet. Just turned on TV.

  Austen’s came through just as a string of commercials ended and the local anchors started talking about the big news out of Helena. His read: Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. A lot going on here. Will talk soon.

  She turned up the volume and took a step closer to the set when Austen’s handsome face flashed across the screen. Her stomach heaved and her beer nearly made a return trip when a gorgeous blond in a gray suit and five-inch heels explained that Austen Zabrinski had been exonerated completely of the allegations of bribery and misappropriation of campaign funds.

  Sheri Fast’s name appeared onscreen confirming Serena’s guess.

  “Good Lord, she’s a goddess. A blond Joan of Arc. I am so screwed.”

  As glad as she was for Austen, she was afraid, too. Scared spitless. This gorgeous crusader for justice opened the door for him to return to his old life. There was nothing keeping him here now. Except us. But what they had was too new, too easy to set aside as an affair, a walk on the ordinary side of life. Simple and mundane compared to the glamour, fanfare, ego-basting attention of that other world.

  Her hands shook as she put the tofu away. Tears mustered behind her eyes, but Serena refused to give into self-pity.

  “Just stop,” she said out loud with as much force as she could muster. “This isn’t about me.” She’d always known Austen’s going back to his old life was a possibility. Vindication for a smear on his reputation was a good thing. A very good thing. If she loved him as much as she thought she did, then there was only one way to handle this.

  She grabbed her fleece jacket and zipped it all the way up. Her long skirt wasn’t the best for riding but she didn’t want to take the time to change. If she rode bareback, Skipper’s body heat would keep her warm. The sun went down fast this time of year, but the moon was nearly full. She’d be fine. She’d say her piece and leave.

  Skipper came at her whistle. He danced excitedly, accepting the bit with an eagerness that made her feel guilty. She’d been so busy with work and Austen and the ’pacas she hadn’t ridden him in days. “Good boy,” she told him. “A quick run to your uncle’s and back. Are you up for that?”

  He shook his head as if he’d understood every word.

  For the first time since she’d heard the news, her heart lifted. She looked around at the home she’d created here in a very short time and felt pride. She liked her life. She liked it even better with Austen in it. For the first time, she’d experienced what it felt like to have a partner. It felt great. Fabulous. But this lifestyle was her choice completely. He’d been forced into ranching when his options crashed and burned. If he chose to return to politics in Helena… she’d be gracious. Even if her heart felt like someone had it in a vise.

  She led Skipper through the gate and pulled herself up. She started to tell Beau to stay but changed her mind. “Come on, Beau. You love Austen, too. You deserve the chance to say good-bye.”

  She rode fast because Skipper wanted to run… and she could blame her tears on the wind. Even from a distance she could see lights and activity around Austen’s place. For a moment, she was afraid the news trucks had been given access to the house, but, no, they appeared lined up on the perimeter, antenna stretched toward the full moon, rising with all its autumnal glory.

  The barn dogs barked and Beau answered back, his deep woof one Austen would surely recognize if he was home—a possibility she hadn’t considered. What if he’d already left for Helena? No. The news vans were a clue to his whereabouts, weren’t they?

  “Whoa, son,” she said, easing back on the reins.

  The horse’s sides heaved in a good way. His heat warmed her, despite the shiver of fear that raced through her when the door of the house opened. Backlit by the house lights, she could see his broad shoulders. Her heart lifted with joy, but then a second figure joined him. A woman.

  Serena flinched but she quickly got control and slipped off Skipper’s back. Since there were no other animals around, she opened the gate and led Skipper toward the house. Stuart’s dogs had gotten used to her by now, but they needed to give Beau some territorial growls and serious sniffs before heading back to the barn.

  Austen stepped onto the porch, the gorgeous Amazonian in her tight skirt and white blouse at his side. She’d taken off the suit jacket she’d worn on TV, Serena noticed. One more button and her bra would have shown. Not surprising. The woman had a thing for Austen, and they shared some history. She fought for his honor and won. If Austen chose Helena over Marietta, this woman would
complement him perfectly in that other life.

  But Serena hadn’t given up a tiny ember of hope that he’d decide to stay. In Marietta. With her.

  She dropped the reins and raced the last few feet to throw her arms around his chest and hug him fiercely. “Congratulations. Your name is clear. I’m so happy for you.”

  He hugged her awkwardly because of the champagne flute in his hand. “Thank you. I take it you saw the news?”

  She nodded, sucking up one last morsel of Austen warmth, one last big breath of his scent. “Yes. It’s wonderful.” She made herself let go then turned to face the woman hovering a few inches away. “Sheri Fast. I saw your interview. Congratulations. You did an amazing job. You must be so proud.”

  “I am. Thank you… um…”

  Austen let out a low curse. “Serena James. Serena, Sheri. Did you get my text?”

  “Yes. I just wanted to congratulate you. I know how important this was to you and your family. The truth is a beautiful thing.”

  A dark look crossed his handsome features. For a man fully redeemed in the eyes of the public, he didn’t look as happy as one might have expected. “I have to go back to Helena in the morning. First light. A ton of things to clear up.”

  “Of course.” Where’s she staying?

  “I’ll have to give a deposition. It may take a week.”

  “Or longer,” Sheri Fast added. “Excuse me. I need a refill. Nice to meet you, Serena.”

  Alone, Austen seemed to have even fewer words. He went to one knee to give Beau a thorough pat. “Take care of her,” Serena thought she heard him say.

  When he stood, he looked straight into her eyes and said, “I don’t know what comes next. I’m still trying to figure that out. I don’t want to make promises I can’t—”

  She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

  “It is what it is. You know where to find me. We’ll talk more when you come back.”

  If he comes back.

  She refused to think about that possibility.