Love Letters Volume 6: Cowboy's Command (The Love Letters)

by Ginny Glass

  Blinking back unwelcome tears, Michelle shook off the memory by drawing in the familiar scents of grain, leather and saddle soap. Just to spite him, she lingered, searching desperately for some way to chase him off. She couldn’t use the words that had worked so well the first time. Time had passed. Scars had healed and hardened. He’d had months to build defenses, but so had she.

  Getting rid of him this time wouldn’t be as simple as a whispered “I love you.”

  “You didn’t used to be so chicken,” he called.

  She shot out of the tack room without another thought. He was pushing her buttons and she knew it. She cursed herself with every step she took. She’d never been able to resist him, and judging by her reaction to his sudden appearance, her defenses were riddled with big, fat holes. Slowing her stride, she swung into the stall only to stop short when she spotted him checking Sweetpea’s hooves. The mare’s mane shone glossy in the overhead lights and tracks of a curry comb streaked her sleek coat.

  “Why are you here?”

  Stepping back from her mount, he snagged a length of rope from a peg. With a few deft moves he’d fashioned the stiffened hemp into a lariat. Her breath snagged in her chest when he set the rope atwirl with nothing more than a twitch of his wrist. It looked so natural in his hands she almost forgot he had no use for the implement anymore. Unless he was into roping secretaries these days.

  A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he tipped his hat back with a knuckle. “I was born here.”

  His throwaway answer unleashed a burst of outraged indignation she’d been tamping down for too long. “You haven’t come back here in nearly a year.”

  “That’s not true,” he replied. “I just haven’t been here when you’ve been here.”

  “Then why are you here now?”

  “Chasen’s worried about you. Your parents are worried about you.” He let the rope fall to the straw as he stepped into the center of the stall. One broad palm stroked Sweetpea’s sleek neck with the reverence born of true love. “After that last practice run, I am too.” He let his finger trail over the horse’s thickly braided mane. He smiled when her traitor of a horse swung a baleful eye in his direction. “I think this sweet lady might be a little on edge too,” he murmured. “You’re riding too hot, Michelle.”

  The man’s audacity twanged like a broken guitar string. Once he’d whispered her name in a voice so hoarse with desire it made her head spin, but now he dared to criticize her. “You’ve a nerve—”

  “I’ve been asked—”

  “You show up here after all this time, after what you did—”

  “If you care about them at all, you’ll think of someone but yourself for a change—”

  “Don’t you dare!” Rage erupted inside her. “Don’t you dare call me selfish. I gave you everything. Everything!”

  Whirling away from her horse, he advanced on her. “Not quite everything.”

  “After everything we went through together. After all the years I waited for you—”

  The toes of his boots clipped hers, but he didn’t stop coming until her back pressed against the wall. Now, after all this time, he appeared. And like a yellow-bellied coward, he dared to use Chasen as his shield. Again. The practice arena on the elder Powell’s property wasn’t the only thing that reeked of bullshit, and she wasn’t inclined to tiptoe around it anymore.

  “You’re a coward,” she spat.

  His upper lip rose in a snarl and those pewter eyes narrowed to slits. “Careful, sugar, you know I can’t resist you when you sweet-talk me.”

  She scoffed, incensed by the transparency of his evasive maneuvers. “Don’t try to dodge me, Cole Powell. I’ve known you too long and too well to fall for your charm.”

  He cocked one eyebrow. “Well, that’s not entirely true,” he murmured. “I remember a time when you found me charming as all get-out.”

  “And you proved you were nothing more than a snake in the grass.”

  “Now, be fair—”

  Michelle held up a hand to stop him. His mouth thinned into a flat line that should have been less than appealing. The sharp glints of silver in his eyes pierced her heart. She glanced at her horse, telegraphing a silent apology for the lack of affection before turning to the man whose presence seemed to swallow every molecule of oxygen.

  “I got the hint.” Tipping her chin up, she stared straight into his eyes. “I don’t have to beg a man to love me.”

  “I don’t imagine you do. Do you know how banged up I was? Do you have any idea how much medication they had me on?” He raised his hands in surrender. “I barely remember that entire month. Hell, no, I didn’t want you to see me like that. I didn’t want anyone to see me.”

  It was tempting, oh so tempting. She wanted to believe his rejection wasn’t personal more than she wanted her next breath, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. If she let herself believe him she might let herself fall again.

  And they both knew exactly how one hard fall could change a life.

  Steeling her spine, she scanned his face, committing his puzzled innocent act to memory so she could add it to the list of things she’d never fall for again. “Go back to the city, Cole. You don’t have to worry about me. You never did before.”

  Michelle made it three steps toward the exit before her hat tumbled from her head and the length of stiffened hemp he’d been twirling dropped over her shoulders. She gasped as the lariat’s loop pulled snug around her. Her arms pinned to her sides, her jaw dropped as she jerked to a stop. Mortification stung her cheeks. A flood of memories threatened to pull her under.

  Chasen had taught him to throw a rope at a homemade roping dummy, but the minute his grandfather walked away from the ring, young Cole had preferred to practice on her. By the time he turned sixteen, she’d stopped running so hard. On the night of her eighteenth birthday, he’d reeled her in so close she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he’d ruffled her hair and gifted her with a playful swat on the bottom.

  Things hadn’t been so playful the night she’d finally lassoed him. He’d threatened to use a rope on her that hot, sweaty night. Pressing her deep into a sagging mattress, he vowed to tie her hands above her head if she didn’t stop touching him, tasting him and generally driving him out of his mind. She hadn’t, of course, and in the wake of his retreat, she’d spent more than one night dreaming about how it might have gone if he’d followed through.

  “That isn’t true.”

  Sweetpea nickered. Cole gave his head a sharp shake, then pulled the handle on the stall door. The metal rollers screeched as it slid along its track. A shiver raced down her spine. She stiffened as the door rolled to a stop. He stood with his feet planted wide, leaning back to tighten the line as he stared at her as if he had no clue what to do once he caught her.

  Michelle stifled a taunt as she realized truly nothing had changed. One look at his face and she read his bewilderment. He wasn’t a man of mystery. Cole wore his every emotion in his eyes. She’d seen his desire, borne witness to his panic and been the victim of his infuriating ability to compartmentalize his life. She’d broken all his rules in one night, using their tequila-fueled frustrations to blur the lines between friends and lovers.

  He wasn’t any less dangerous to her than he’d ever been. Five minutes in his presence and she morphed into a quivering mass of confusion and want. If she gave him an hour he might coax her into loving him again. Given a couple of hours and a bed, the heat turning his flinty eyes to pewter might melt her defenses completely. Baring body and soul to him again was a risk too chancy to take.

  She refused to give him the satisfaction of a struggle. Determined to hang on to a scrap of dignity, she raised her head and leveled him an impassive stare. “Let me go, Cole.”

  The order seemed to yank him from his stupor. He didn’t dig in his heels and haul her to him. Instead, he gathered a stretch of rope around his wrist, line coiling tight around his forearm as he took one step, then another.

  His limp w
as more pronounced than she expected, but she didn’t let her dismay show. The last thing he’d ever accept from her was pity. Each slow, uneven step he took tied her stomach in knots. Lines etched by months of pain and endurance became starkly visible as he approached, each one a startling contrast to his youth and vitality.

  It seemed a lifetime passed before the toes of his boots scuffed hers. He stared at his hand as if it had seceded from the union, giving his head a bewildered shake as he raised it. Warmth and affection shot those gunmetal eyes through with silver. “You always were the damnedest girl.”

  She wriggled. “Let me go.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You can’t do this. You can’t just show up here—”

  “On my family’s ranch,” he inserted mildly.

  “—and act like you give a damn—”

  “I do give a damn. I always gave a damn.”

  His quiet assertion pierced her heart. In retaliation she wrested a length of rope from his arm. Rope burn made him grimace, but the white-hot ache in the center of her chest screamed broken heart. A lifetime of love, trust, hopes and dreams had all come crashing down in one twenty-four hour period. For both of them. Now he wanted her to stand here and listen to him tell her how to run her life.

  Michelle found it hard to muster any sympathy for his pain. “Let me go, Cole.”

  “Not until you tell me why you’re taking such crazy chances.” He let another loop of rope unravel, giving her just enough room to catch her breath before he snatched it away again. “This is more than winning. Winning doesn’t drive you. What are you trying to prove?”

  The question hit her like a fist to the gut; he’d pulled out the big guns. Her taut nerves fizzled and popped. She closed her eyes, searching for a little of the raw adrenaline. Pressing the flat of her palm to her stomach, she drew a deep breath, hoping to stir the coals of burned-out anger enough to make one last stand. But when she opened her eyes again she found him standing too close, smelling too good and looking as if he actually cared. Lord help her, she wanted him to care. Still.

  He lowered his arm and the rope fell slack. The neat knot he’d tied bumped its way over her elbow. The roughhewn strands that had bound her to him moments before dropped to the ground at her feet. Michelle didn’t move. She couldn’t. She’d never been able to resist the comfort of him. He knew her too well. At least, he had once upon a time.

  The words she’d repeated too often in the past eighteen months rose to her defense. “Barrel racing is a timed event.”

  “And you’ve always had enough talent to win easily. You used to be a smart racer, though. You were never reckless.”

  His gruff admonishment made her spine stiffen, but the warmth of his hand closing around her elbow threatened to make her bones dissolve into mush. He was right. She’d never done a reckless thing in her life. Not until she walked up to Cole Powell and planted one right on his kisser. The cautious girl she’d become turned to putty the minute his big, rough hands slid into her hair. The starry-eyed optimist inside her had been so certain her good friend Cole would never hurt her. Never in her life had she been so terribly wrong.

  “I didn’t like what I saw.” The blunt tips of his fingers pressed into her biceps. Steely gray eyes bore holes in her resolve. “You scared me.”

  “Scared you?” His hand tightened when she scoffed. A flash of irritation sharpened his glare. Like a rodeo clown, she tossed out a little taunt. “Since when has a big, tough cowboy like you ever been scared of anything?”

  It was a legitimate question, whether she asked it in a snide tone or not. Cole had always been fearless. No horse too wild, no bull too mean for him. Secure in his brains, natural athleticism and the doting adoration of his family, she’d wager he’d never met a moment of self-doubt. That was why the worry line bisecting his thick gold brows puzzled her so. His injury might have ended the career he’d dreamed of as a boy, but as a seasoned bronc buster, he’d shifted with the whiplash-inducing turn his life had taken and still come out a winner. He was still the golden boy of the circuit, but now he held sway in the business end of things.

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

  His soft-spoken question made her jerk. She blinked, trying to spur her sluggish brain into catching up. “Get what?”

  “There’s only one thing I’ve ever been scared of, Michelle.”

  Her breath caught as a surge of warmth and longing darkened his eyes. The tiny line disappeared, chased off by the slow curve of his lips. He slipped a hand up to her nape and drew her a little closer. Her breasts grazed the front of his crisp white shirt. She pressed her lips together and swallowed the hot knot of desire lodged in her throat. Her nipples tightened. The tingle of anticipation melted into a flood of arousal.

  Cole dropped his gaze to her mouth and her traitorous lips parted as if on command. The rough pad of his thumb dragged over her bottom lip, but the caress proved staggeringly tender. She held her breath as he cradled her jaw, tilting her face to the perfect angle. Gold-tipped lashes lowered as he ducked his head. The question she had to ask popped out the second his breath tickled her skin.

  “What? What are you scared of?”

  Without the slightest hitch, he breathed a soft “You,” then sealed the confession with a kiss.

  *

  Christ, her mouth tasted as ripe and sweet as he remembered. He barely grazed it on the first pass, but it didn’t matter. Within seconds he’d obliterated months of trying to forget. When her lips softened against his, he cursed himself for being a fool. He’d been cocky. Now he’d have to pay the price.

  And oh, what a price it was.

  Her soft little moan of surrender would be branded on his brain. There’d be no erasing the memory of her strong, supple arms snaking around his neck, her fingers in his hair, or the weighty sway of her breasts against his chest.

  Good God, why would a man want to forget that?

  Michelle was every blessed thing he’d ever tried to banish from his mind and so much more. For a woman so long and lean, she packed enough heat to blow the strongest man away. He’d always been weak where she was concerned. Apparently, always would be.

  Driven to the edge, he took control of the kiss. Or tried to. Their tongues dueled. She met his every stroke with an enthusiasm that stripped away his defenses. They fit so perfectly. Too perfectly for the arrogant but terrified hotshot he used to be, and just perfectly enough to make the man he’d become ache deep in his bones.

  Her breath came in ragged rasps when he broke the kiss. He kissed along the graceful curve of her neck. “You scare the ever-lovin’ crap outta me,” he whispered into the shell of her ear. “Always have.”

  Her jaw dropped but only a faint squeak managed to escape. She let her head fall back, leaving her throat vulnerable and exposed. He took full advantage. His newly reawakened memory dredged up the exact sound she’d made that night too long ago. He scraped the galloping pulse in her throat with the edge of his teeth, then set it to a dead run by drawing her skin hard against his tongue. Her throaty gasp shot straight and true. The first time he’d heard it, he was short-sighted enough to think she was offering only her body. Later, when her soft pants and echoing cries faded into the shadows of a dimly lit motel room, she’d given him her heart.

  “I wanted you there.” He trampled her toes in his haste to press her up against something. Anything. “I was so out of it, I didn’t know who was coming or going, but God, I wanted you there.” Her back hit the wall so hard the stall door rattled. “But I didn’t want your pity. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I was so scared you’d never look at me the way you did that night.”

  Grover, his granddad’s old gelding, poked his head through to check on the ruckus. Air squeaked from Michelle’s lungs, but she didn’t push him off. Hell, the woman rode the top of his thigh harder and faster than she had when putting poor Sweetpea through her paces. She pressed back against the wall and pinned him to the spot with a heavy-lidded st
are.

  “Maybe that’s why I’m riding like I do,” she panted. “Maybe I’ve got nothing to be scared of anymore. Maybe I have nothing left to lose.”

  It took his lust-clouded brain a full minute to untangle the logic of her breathy statement. The implication twined its way around his heart and squeezed. “God, no. Don’t say that.” He kissed her hard and fast, as if the press of his mouth on hers would be enough to stamp out the very thought. “Jesus, Michelle, no man is worth your life. Especially not me.”

  The slow circle of her hips ground to a halt when he pulled back. The heat of her arousal seeped through the layers of denim between them. Cole was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he hadn’t burst into flames when a blinding grin chased the confusion from her wide blue eyes. A sharp, staccato laugh bubbled up from her belly. A dimple he’d almost forgotten she owned winked at him.

  “Ha! You think I meant suicidal?”

  Cole reared, torn between chagrin and relief when her full-bodied laugh fired the blood in his veins. He ducked his head and clamped down on his tongue in a vain attempt to keep from further incriminating himself, but he couldn’t stop the hot blush creeping up his neck.

  “Pride, Coleman. I lost my pride, and damn it, I wanted it back.” She let loose with another laugh and knocked his hat clean off his head, leaving him no refuge from her probing gaze. “I’m glad to see your ego wasn’t crushed.”

  Her blunt assessment was typical. The girl he once knew never pulled a punch, and this new, grown-up Michelle didn’t either. Needing to prove he was up to the challenge, he met her steady gaze. “No, just my leg.” He slid one hand up her throat, his fingertips fanning along the curve of her jaw. “I waited for you,” he murmured, low and soft. “I didn’t deserve you, but I waited for you to come. I thought one incredibly stupid decision could never undo so many years of me and you.” He brushed a wayward curl back from her face with his knuckles. “I was wrong.”

  “Sleeping with me was an incredibly stupid decision?”

  “No. Yes,” he amended in the same breath. He gave his head the slightest shake. “Not because of you. Never because of you.”