by Tina Leonard
It was time to bring the curtain down on the act.
OLIVIA WAS SLEEPING so hard by the time he drove the short distance to the trailer that Calhoun couldn’t bear to awaken her. She’d wake up soon enough. Leaving the truck windows down, he parked outside the trailer and went to find Gypsy.
The horse whickered when she saw him.
“Oh, I know,” he told her. “Everything’s fine. Your master’s fine. Ornery and still spitting fire. Just not going to get as many opportunities to do it in the future. Your mama’s putting him out to pasture. And you, too, I guess.” He rubbed her neck. “You deserve the break, you ole show pony. And man, did you ever put on a show tonight. Maybe you knew it was your last one.” His hand caressed the length of her nose, making Gypsy toss her head. “I always say it’s best to go out with a bang, myself. Now, let me find your hay and fill your water. Tomorrow, you travel to your well-earned retirement.”
He filled Gypsy’s water, mucked out her stall and tossed in fresh hay. Someone had thoughtfully removed her saddle—probably his brothers. The rule at their ranch was animals first, then humans. They’d probably seen to Gypsy before they went over to Delilah’s.
Gypsy pushed at his back with her nose while he picked up one of her hooves to examine it. “What, Gypsy?” he asked, turning to see what she wanted.
Olivia stood there, watching him. “You’re up,” he said.
“Yes. What are you doing?”
“Chatting with Gypsy.” He shrugged. “You were asleep, and I don’t like to talk to myself, particularly. I will on occasion, but Gypsy’s far more interesting.”
Olivia came inside the stall. “I’m too nervous to sleep. My mind won’t stop thinking about how I’m going to break the news to Dad.”
Calhoun nodded. “News is hard to deliver sometimes. And he’s got a ton of pride. Let’s presume you don’t tell your dad right now. What if you waited awhile? Maybe he could believe he’s resting for a few months.”
She smiled. “I don’t think my dad knows how.”
“He’ll be learning soon enough one way or the other.”
“I suppose so.” She glanced over at Calhoun as he picked up another of Gypsy’s hooves. “How come you’re not married, Calhoun? I know you’re running, but it seems like some lady would have set her traps for you by now.”
He laughed. “I am an expert at springing traps.”
“Grab the bait and go,” she said.
“Exactly.” Picking up a brush, he began to stroke Gypsy’s back. “Your kids ever see their dad?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s not something he’s interested in, and they accepted that a long time ago.”
He glanced at her. “You’ve got quite a posse of admirers here. They’re quite heartbroken that they can’t get your attention.”
Olivia felt the instinctive twinge of distaste. “I really, really do not want to fall for another cowboy. I can’t see trying to fit me and my kids into that lifestyle.”
He looked her way as they both digested what she’d said.
“I understand,” he said. “Mason tried to keep us off the circuit. It didn’t work. Some of us were really good at it, and some of us stunk and one of us never rode a bull or a bronc. It’s dangerous, and it’s lonely and it’s really not conducive to family life unless you’re winning a lot. We mainly did it as a crap-shoot. We always had the ranch to keep us stable. As stable as we were going to be.” He put the brush down, and picked up a hoof pick, gently working Gypsy’s back hooves.
“What I like about you is that you homeschool your kids, Olivia. We were homeschooled a bunch. It’s good bonding. We went to regular school, too, but what we learned from our folks has lasted longer. Mainly school was a social event for us. Minnie and Kenny know they have a good life.”
“I’ll send them to school next year, once we’re settled,” she said softly. “And I’ll miss them terribly. But it’s time to let go.”
She would get a job. It was time for her to become the family caretaker. “Of course, Dad’s not going to like me trying to make him slow down.”
“You’ll have to be very cautious with him. He’s got a lot of pride.”
Olivia smiled at Calhoun.
“So, where are you from, anyway, Olivia? Where would a man find you if he wanted to, say, drop you a line?”
Her smile dimmed into a regular expression. “The Midwest.”
“Now, that was vague.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Why would you want to drop me a line?” she asked, her heart feeling that a line would not be near enough from him. She also thought that it was best if he never corresponded with her. “Not that I think you’re a letter-writing kind of guy.”
“I’m an artist,” he protested. “I can express myself.”
“But not a writer,” she said. “That requires a stamp and a trip to the mailbox.”
He put down the hoof pick, took her by the hand and pulled her from the stall. Closing the door carefully behind him, he said, “Say good night, Gypsy.”
“Good night, Gypsy,” Olivia said obediently, allowing Calhoun to drag her outdoors. He pulled her to his truck and opened the door. She got in, delighted in spite of all her worries that he wanted to spend more time with her.
It would, as she knew only too well, be their last night to see each other.
Still, there had been no “last night” with her marriage; one day it was over. No husband, just a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and an unmade bed. Some old clothes left behind. A note that said, “I gotta go. Tell the kids their dad was good to them. Bryce.”
Calhoun started the truck. “First of all, I can afford a stamp, lady,” he said. “I even know where it goes on the envelope. And I know where my mailbox is. Even Jeffersons understand the art of correspondence. One of my brothers constantly e-mails a lady in Australia. Other brothers use text messages. One has been known to send up a smoke signal. Or maybe that was an accidental fire. But the message was received,” he said with a sideways glance at her. “Your premise is that I won’t follow through.”
“You are a man,” she said unnecessarily, thinking that most men probably didn’t write women they’d just met the day before.
“I am all man,” he boasted. “And a man knows the secret spots for romance.”
Her eyebrows raised. “So, you’ve mapped out the area?”
He gave her a light tweak on the arm, then captured it to hold in his. “Do not try to ensnare me with slyly couched questions. I promise you I am an efficient trap springer. I have done no mapping around here with females.”
“Then how do you know about the romantic spots?” She wasn’t sure if she believed his innocent approach.
“My brothers have done their share of mapping.”
“And you’re merely the cartographer.”
He squeezed her hand lightly between his fingers. “It’s too bad we don’t have longer to get to know each other. I’m certain that a woman who knows a twelve-letter word rarely used in modern-day language is somehow meant to spend more time with me. Slide across this seat next to me so I can rub your legs,” he said enticingly. “I have the idea I should be mapping every centimeter of you.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “You may be slightly unhinged.”
Calhoun laughed. “I may be very unhinged. Come here.” He pulled her closer to him on the bench seat. “Now I’m happy. Your father would be mad, but I’m happy.”
Olivia caught his hand before it could roam over her knees a second time. “Do you have some issues you need to sort out?”
“Even my issues have issues, Olivia,” he said, raising her hand to press her fingers against his lips. “But where you’re concerned, I’m very trustworthy and issueless.”
She looked at him as they pulled up to a moonlit creek. “This is a nice spot. Very romantic.”
He shut off the engine. “Come walk with me.”
Opening his truck door, he pulled her out the driver’s side with him. “N
ow, you stand right there and don’t move.” He closed the door and walked away.
Olivia watched him, a tiny frown on her face. “Where are you going?”
“I’m walking away from you.”
“Well, don’t. You’re worrying me.”
Now he was somewhere in the dark and she couldn’t see him. “I’d feel better if I had your truck keys!” she called.
“In the ignition,” he yelled back. “Feel free to borrow my truck any moment you get the urge!”
Olivia crossed her arms. Okay, the cowboy was playing hide-and-seek. But what was his real game? “Do we know each other well enough to play like this?”
“No,” he said, dragging a bench across the grass. “You can get the other side if you want. If not, I can do it myself. I was trying to be the gentleman, though.”
“Oh,” Olivia said, laughing somewhat nervously. “I thought you wanted me to chase you or something ridiculous like that.”
He straightened, and she could see the strong planes of his face in the darkness. “What would be ridiculous about that?”
She stared at him. Shaking her head, she said, “Nice bench.”
“Good. Come sit down on it. From this vantage point, we can watch the clouds drift across the moon, just up there. And because it’s cold tonight with December’s early chill, I get to warm you up.” He pulled her into his lap. “Now, you keep your eyes on those soft clouds up there.” Moving her hair, he began to kiss along the back of her neck. “I will also keep my eyes up there.”
“You’re not,” she said, laughing. “You sneak.”
“They say that fear and sex are a great combination. Is it true? Did I awaken the physical beast in you?”
“No.” She turned to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You sounded so scared when I went to get this bench. And now I’m kissing your neck. So I wondered if you’re having heightened feelings for me. You know, feelings of gratitude, grateful sex, gratuitous quickies—”
“Stop,” she said. “You’re crazy.” But she laughed at him anyway. “You know what? You’re not even trying hard. I finally figured you out. You’re all talk, Calhoun.”
“Hmm.” He shifted his cowboy hat, then hung it on the back of the bench. “You wound me.”
“I do not.” She giggled and scooted out of his lap to sit at the other end of the bench. “But I do, coincidentally, have feelings of gratitude where you’re concerned.”
“Yeah?” He seemed to perk up. “Any feelings of sexual—”
“No.” She peeped at him with a sly smile. “Well, maybe.”
“Really?” He gave a self-satisfied smirk. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to withstand my charm.”
She shook her head, smiling.
He sighed. “So it’s a friendship kind of gratitude?”
“Can you live with that?”
“I think my ego can withstand the pain. So, tell me, and leave out no details, because it sounds like your gratitude’s all I’m going to get from you.”
“Okay.” She took his hand out of his lap, holding it as she turned to face him, one leg crooked onto the bench. “I’m grateful for how you treat my kids. That was an easy one. They wooed you, and you responded in kind. Whether you realize it or not, you were good for them. You could have treated them like kids, or worse, like pests, and they would have been crushed.”
“Nah.” Calhoun shook his head. “Trust me, those two are wily coyotes. I’m only lucky that they chose me to woo. Because I’ve sure enjoyed being around them. But don’t think I don’t understand the game, Olivia. Another town, another man. I’m nothing special.”
He said it with such obvious forlorn drama that she rolled her eyes. “No wonder you did so well in our show. You’re a master of theater. And that brings me to gratitude number two. Calhoun, thank you so much for saving the show tonight. My kids will remember it always. And so will I.”
“So will Barley,” Calhoun said. “And that’s not an encouraging thought.”
“Poor Dad,” Olivia murmured.
“Poor me,” Calhoun said. “He’s going to show me no gratitude at all.”
“I’m going to miss you,” Olivia said. “Is that weird to say to someone I just met?”
“Not if I made a difference in your life,” Calhoun said cheerfully. “And you know, it is said that we Jeffersons do make a difference wherever we go.”
He snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her over next to him. “That’s better. I was getting cold.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m getting hot.”
His posture straightened. “It’s about time,” he said. “I’ve been trying to go slow, I swear, but—”
Olivia looked at him.
Calhoun got quiet. “Oh. You really meant hot.”
“Yes.” Olivia shrugged out of her jacket. “See those clouds up there?”
“Yeah,” he said, his tone a little grumpy. “I told you to keep your eyes on them, remember?”
“Not stars, but clouds for us,” Olivia said. “I think that’s romantic.”
“You do?” He watched her, his eyes suddenly intent.
“Yes.” She looked up at him. “Calhoun, I’m hot now.”
He blinked. She saw his eyes linger on her neckline, and then gaze lower. “My body temperature’s moving up, too,” he said. “Amazing we both seem to be having the same symptoms.”
She smiled. “Synchronicity.”
“That’s a thirteen-letter word not often used in daily lingo, Ms. Olivia,” he said. “And now I’m positive I’m going to have to kiss you.”
But she beat him to it, leaning up so that she could get to his lips and wind her arms around his neck to pull him closer to her. Every touch of his lips against hers made her shiver. Olivia felt as if she could drown in the pleasure he made her feel.
I could do this forever.
She pulled away as soon as the thought hit her.
“Oh, no,” he said, “no running away. No second thoughts. This time I am going to be the pursuer. You got away from me in the bar, and I let you go then. You want me until I kiss you, but then you start thinking. So babe, I’m going to push all those unworthy thoughts right out of your head.”
He kissed her so hard her breath left her, and the worries about forevers that didn’t last and fears of not being sexually compatible disappeared like clouds before the moon. Calhoun kissed her so passionately that she moved up into his lap so she could run her hands through his hair and take her time enjoying the heat spreading through her.
“You’re hot,” he told her. “Sexy hot.” His fingers ran under her hair, down her back, and then up the back of her shirt. “Fiery hot mama.”
His fingers brushed over her bra under her shirt, and Olivia felt every nerve in her body tense with pleasure.
“Too bold?” he asked her.
She stared down into his eyes. Her nipples were so erect that all she could think about was Calhoun, and making love, which she knew would be different—and crazier—than what she’d known before. She wanted him to make love to her; she wanted him to wash away the bad memories. God, he was so sexy and so manly and everything a woman wanted in a man.
She kissed his mouth, lingering over lips, pressing herself against his hands.
When they broke apart, breathless again, he looked into her eyes. “Am I getting a yes?”
Slowly, she shook her head, her gaze never leaving his. “No.”
“Because?” he asked lazily, running his fingers under the back of her bra strap.
“It’s been years since I’ve been with a man,” she said simply. “I have no birth control here at Barmaid’s Creek.” She kissed his mouth again. “And I seem to recall that the Jefferson family is already expecting one unexpected bundle of joy. This is a very bad time of the month to try my luck.”
“I—”
She laid a finger over his lips. “Calhoun, before you say something gentlemanly like ‘Jefferson men always co
me prepared’ let me just play Pollyanna here and say I’d rather not know that. In spite of how wonderful a man you may claim to be, you do seem to have an amazing knowledge of the female form.”
“Purely coincidental,” he said, rubbing her back under her shirt. “Those paintings are not women I’ve known, Olivia.”
She felt immeasurably cheered by that. “Still, you can see my hesitation. We don’t really know each other, and…while a one-night stand would cure me of a lot of bad memories, it’s not really what is best for me. It’s not me. The only man I was ever with was my husband.” She skipped saying sex wasn’t something she’d enjoyed.
He rolled her shirt back into place. “I understand. You’re right. Although I want to throw you on your back and take you right here, I do get where you’re at. I told myself patience was the key with you, and maybe a little freestyle hard-to-get, but I can also accept sweet rejection. I think.” A sigh escaped him as his gaze ran across her shirt one final time. “My dad used to say that the treasure lies within. That’s where yours is, Olivia. I’ll miss getting to know you better.”
“Thank you,” she said, touching his chin lightly. “If I was going to fall for a cowboy, it might be you.”
He held her against his erection, sliding her against him for just a moment. “If you were going to fall for a cowboy, Olivia, it would be me.”
She raised a playful eyebrow. “Maybe.”
“It’s too bad we don’t know each other better,” he said, settling her into his lap so that her head was against his chest and his arms were tight around her, “because I would have given you a hell of a memory, babe.”
“You did,” she said.
And that’s the real thing I’m grateful for, she thought, but I wouldn’t ever want you to know that.
Chapter Nine
Olivia fell asleep in Calhoun’s arms, under the cloud-chased night sky. It was early morning when she awakened to the sun caressing their faces.
Calhoun’s arms were still tight around her. Olivia tried to shrug out of his embrace so she could sneak off to relieve herself since there were no accommodations around, but then she realized Calhoun’s eyes were open and staring at her.