“That’s Copper Penny,” he told her. “She belonged to Dani’s mom.”
“And now to Dani?” she guessed.
“Technically,” he agreed. “But she’s a lot of horse for a little girl, so Gramps borrowed a little Welsh Mountain pony named Daisy from a friend so that she can learn on a mount more suitable to her size. I don’t know if she’d been on the back of a horse before Gramps put her in the saddle, but he insists that she’s a natural.”
“That’s not surprising,” Kenzie said. “Considering her mom was a successful barrel racer and her dad a champion bull rider, it’s probably coded in her DNA.”
“It might be,” Spencer agreed.
Though he kept his tone light, the casual reference to genetics weighed heavily on his heart. Because only a few days after he’d crossed paths with Brett and Gage at Jo’s, Dani had complained of an earache. Hating to see her in any kind of distress, he’d immediately whisked her off to the doctor to have it checked out. While there, Spencer had impulsively inquired about paternity testing. After a few more questions had been asked and answered, the doctor had swabbed both his and Dani’s cheeks.
The procedure had been quick and painless; the waiting for results anything but. The doctor had cautioned that it might take several weeks for the lab report to come back, so Spencer had put the test out of his mind. Mostly.
The more time he spent with Dani, the deeper his conviction that she was his daughter. Now he wished he’d never let his friends bait him into thinking he needed to have the test done—and he felt ashamed that he’d done it.
“Hey, there, Domino.” Kenzie turned as her friend’s gelding, with the glossy black coat and white star and socks, came over to the fence to nudge her shoulder. “Do you remember me?”
The horse rubbed his cheek against hers, as if in response to her question, and she laughed. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Too long,” a gruff voice said from behind them. “Thought you’d forgotten how to get here.”
She turned to face Spencer’s grandfather. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Blake.”
He nodded an acknowledgment of her greeting before turning to Spencer to warn, “It’s gonna storm.”
“There’s barely a cloud in the sky,” he protested.
Because in the time it had taken them to drive to the ranch, a few clouds had formed, but they were fluffy and white and completely innocuous-looking.
“Forget the sky—I can feel it in my bones,” Gramps said.
“We’ll keep an eye on the weather,” Spencer promised.
“See that you do.”
And then, with a tip of his hat to Kenzie, his grandfather wandered back into the barn.
“You ready to do this?” Spencer asked.
“Why not?” Kenzie agreed.
He gave her a leg up, and she settled into the saddle to guide Domino around the corral, getting accustomed to the feel of the horse beneath her. He kept an eye on her progress as he tied the saddle bags onto Copper Penny, pleased to note that Domino easily followed Kenzie’s commands, smoothly accelerating from a walk to a trot to a canter.
Satisfied with her control of the animal—or at least Domino’s manners and self-restraint—he mounted Copper Penny and started away from the barn. They rode across open fields toward the mountains that speared up in the distance, following the creek for which the ranch was named.
After a rainfall, the water would gurgle and bubble as it rushed over the rocks. But this was the desert and there hadn’t been rain in a while, so the banks were dry, the creek now not much more than a trickle.
The chill in the air warned of winter just around the corner, but the sun was shining as they made their way toward the valley that Spencer had decided would be the ideal place to break for lunch.
“What’s on the menu?” Kenzie asked, as she spread the blanket over the grass.
“Ham-and-cheese sandwiches, apple slices and chocolate chip cookies,” he identified each of the items as he unpacked them from the saddlebags.
“Sounds yummy.”
“And wine,” he added, pulling a bottle of merlot from the bottom of the bag.
“Good choice.”
“I asked Alyssa what you usually drink when you’re at the bar,” he admitted.
“A question that seems to imply I spend a lot of time ‘at the bar,’” she remarked.
He chuckled. “Well, in Haven, it’s really the only place to go.”
He piled the food in the center of the blanket, before stretching out on it himself. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the blue sky dotted now with a few more clouds.
“This was a good idea,” Kenzie told him.
“I have them on occasion,” he said.
“Another good idea would have been a corkscrew,” she teased.
He took the bottle from her hand, looked at the seal and swore.
“You’re not usually a wine drinker, are you?”
“Not usually,” he admitted.
But he also wasn’t a man to admit defeat.
He sat up and rummaged through his bag until he came up with a Swiss Army knife. It wasn’t a fancy one with all the bells and whistles—or a corkscrew—but it had a decent blade that worked well enough to score the foil so he could peel it away, then he stabbed it into the cork so that he had some leverage to turn and twist and pry. The cork was halfway out of the bottle when it broke.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kenzie said. “I’m not very thirsty anyway.”
But having tasted a modicum of success, he couldn’t give up.
“I’ve got this,” he promised, yanking the broken cork from the blade before resuming his attack on the piece that remained stuck in the bottle. This time, the blade pushed right through the cork.
Kenzie opened the bag of fruit and munched on an apple slice while she watched him struggle. It was tedious work—the cork would wiggle a little, then the blade would start to slip. So he’d push it in again, twisting a little to gain traction, and wiggle the cork some more.
“Ta-da!” he said, as he finally managed to pull what was left of the cork free.
Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she took the bottle he offered, then slayed his sense of accomplishment with a single word: “Glasses?”
Chapter Twelve
Spencer huffed out a breath. “Isn’t it just like a woman to never be satisfied?”
“Is that a frequent problem for you?” Kenzie asked, with wide-eyed innocence and feigned sympathy. “Not being able to satisfy a woman?”
His eyes locked on hers then, and there was so much heat in his gaze, she felt singed.
“Not in the bedroom,” he assured her. “Or pretty much anywhere else with a horizontal surface.” Then he tapped his finger to his chin, as if thinking. “Actually, I’ve never had any complaints about my vertical performance, either.”
Of course, now her brain was imagining all those various scenarios, making her blood rush hot and fast in her veins. Obviously it had been a mistake to start the teasing, because he was way out of her league.
“So I guess I misspoke,” he continued now. “Because the only grumbling I’ve ever heard was about the fact that I forgot to pack glasses.”
“And a corkscrew,” she felt compelled to remind him.
“I got the cork out of the bottle, didn’t I?” he asked, tossing a sandwich into her lap.
Kenzie peered into the bottle, where tiny bits floated on top of the wine. “Mostly.”
But she lifted the bottle to her lips, sipped.
Spencer, having already devoured half his sandwich, reached for the bottle. But he held it for a moment, his thoughts appearing to be a thousand miles away.
“You know, it’s okay to admit that you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
He swigged a mouthful of wine. “A little bit of cork never killed anyone.”
She nibbled on her sandwich. “I mean about Dani.”
“Why would I be worried about Dani?”
“C’mon,” she said. “It must have crossed your mind when Linda came home from her trip and immediately wanted to spend the weekend with her granddaughter that she’d missed Dani and might have changed her mind about not fighting for custody.”
“Maybe it did,” he acknowledged. “But Emily chose me as Dani’s guardian, and I think Linda—and the courts—will respect that.”
“You’re really not worried?”
He sighed. “I’m more worried that Emily might have chosen wrong. That maybe Dani would be better off with her grandmother.”
“The woman who chose her boyfriend over her grieving grandchild?” she asked dryly.
“Well, when you put it like that.”
Kenzie gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Emily made the right decision—Dani should be with her father.”
“But what if...” Spencer began.
“What if what?” Kenzie prompted.
“What if she—” He shook his head. “What if I can’t do this on my own?”
“You don’t have to. You’ve got family and friends to lend a hand when you need it.”
“What if I want to keep riding bulls?” He threw the idea out there like a header tossing a lasso at a steer.
She chewed another bite of sandwich. “Do you?”
He shrugged. “I always figured I’d do it until I was at least thirty. By then, I might have been ready to think about settling down with a wife and starting a family.”
“Life doesn’t always work out the way we planned,” she said philosophically.
“You’re telling me.”
“So revise your plan,” she suggested.
“Haven’t I done that already?”
“I don’t know if you have or if this is only a temporary detour while you figure out how to get your life back on track again.”
“How’s your butt?” he asked, in a not-at-all-subtle effort to shift the topic of conversation.
She rubbed a hand over her bottom, as if to check. “Right now, it’s a little numb,” she admitted. “But not too bad, considering.”
“I knew your riding skills would come back to you.”
“I guess I did remember most of the basics,” she agreed. “But I was even more surprised that Domino seemed to remember me.”
“Of course, he remembered you,” Spencer said. “You’re not a woman anyone—man or beast—could easily forget.”
She scoffed at that as she finished her sandwich.
“You don’t think I thought about you when I was gone?” he asked.
“I hope not,” she said. “Or, if you did, I hope it wasn’t about the last time you saw me.”
“You mean when you offered your virginity up as a going-away present?”
Seven years later, the memories of that night still made her cheeks burn. She averted her face, looking toward the nearby tree where the horses were tethered, so he wouldn’t see her shame.
Spencer gently nudged his shoulder against hers. “I’m sorry—that was crude and unnecessary.”
“But not untrue,” she acknowledged ruefully. “I would have given you anything and everything you wanted that night.”
“It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know that then,” he told her.
“I’m sure you knew. Everyone knew I had a desperate crush on you.”
He didn’t deny it. “Well, I’m glad, for your sake, that I didn’t take everything you were offering.”
“And I’m glad you were kind in your rejection,” she told him.
“I don’t recall being particularly kind,” he admitted. “In fact, the way I remember it, I was kind of cruel.”
“You weren’t,” she denied. “You tolerated my sloppy kisses and clumsy groping, even though it was obvious you didn’t want me.”
He seemed taken aback by that statement. “You think I didn’t want you?”
“I know you didn’t want me,” she admitted.
“How could you possibly know something like that?” he challenged.
“It was obvious in the way you pushed me away.”
He shook his head. “You really were an innocent, weren’t you?”
“You know I was.”
“Tell me, was it obvious in the way I kissed you that I didn’t want you? Was it obvious when my hands were under your shirt and I was grinding against you?”
“I think I’d be happy to skip this trip down memory lane.” Although now she was wondering if maybe her recollection of that night was perhaps a little faulty.
“I’d be happier to refresh your memory,” he offered.
“Why don’t we take a few steps back in this conversation and talk about this detour you’re on?” she suggested instead.
He was silent for a moment, considering the request, before he finally responded. “Well, the original plan was to retire at age thirty—or when I was a ten-time PBR champion.”
“You’d have to earn eight more championships in five years to retire at thirty,” she noted.
He quirked a brow. “Someone’s been following my career.”
“Not on purpose,” she said. “But you know how it is in town, the former Rookie of the Year wins a title and it’s all anyone can talk about.”
He smiled at that, then his expression turned serious. “I have a real chance for one more,” he told her.
“I know.”
“Might be my last chance.”
She nodded.
“You don’t think I should go to Vegas, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she told him.
“It matters to me,” he said, and realized it was true.
She shook her head. “It’s your call to make—no one else’s.”
“That doesn’t stop everyone else from having an opinion,” he noted.
“I’m sure it doesn’t.”
“My mom thinks riding bulls is dangerous and foolish.”
“I wouldn’t argue with the dangerous part.”
“And my dad says I need to grow up and act like the father that I am.”
“So...when do you leave?”
He chuckled softly. “Do you really think I’m so contrary?”
“I think it’s normal to chafe against parental expectations,” she told him.
“Did you chafe against yours?”
“My situation was a lot different than yours, because it was always just me and my mom. I sometimes balked at her rules and restrictions, but I was more subtle about it.”
“Give me an example of something you did that you know your mother wouldn’t approve of.”
“I smoked a cigarette once.”
He gasped, as if horrified. “A whole cigarette?”
“No,” she admitted, with a small smile. “Only a few puffs were enough to convince me I wasn’t a smoker.”
“I’m shocked.”
“I also got drunk at my senior prom and told my mother it was because someone spiked the punch.”
“Every year, someone spikes the punch at prom,” he noted.
“But that year, the someone was me.”
“No kidding? You spiked the punch?”
“No kidding,” she confirmed.
“Anything else?”
“For the most part, I toed the line,” she admitted. “And the only thing she really got on my case about were boys. I think I was twelve when Eric Vacca called to ask a question about an English assignment. Seriously, that was the only reason for the call, but after three minutes on the phone, I got a thirty-minute lecture about the debauched morals and lustful desires of the entire male species
.”
He chuckled.
“Sure, you can laugh. I went to school the next day and told Eric to never ever call me again.”
“Did he?” Spencer wondered.
“Not until several years later, when I finally had a cell phone and my mother wasn’t able to monitor all my calls and text messages.”
“What would she say if she knew you were here with me now?”
“I don’t know that she’d say anything, because she’s said it all so many times before, she knows I just tune it out. But her mouth would thin with disapproval and her eyes would cloud over with all those unspoken worries and warnings.”
“Maybe you should heed those warnings,” he suggested, shifting closer on the blanket to brush his lips along her jaw.
The casual caress sent a sensual shiver down her spine, but she kept her tone light as she replied, “Because you just want to get into my pants?”
“It isn’t all I want, but it’s definitely on the list of my top ten desires.” He nuzzled her throat—one of her top ten erogenous zones. “Top three.”
“If you invited me to come out here today so that you could seduce me, you’re going to be disappointed,” she told him.
“How about a make-out session with some heavy petting?” he suggested.
She wondered how it was that he could make her want to laugh even while her body yearned for him desperately. “No.”
“Just the making out?” He nibbled teasingly on her bottom lip. “I really love the taste of your mouth.”
There were a thousand reasons that this was a bad idea. She was almost certain of it. But right now, with Spencer’s mouth dawdling and dallying with hers, she couldn’t seem to remember a single one.
And really, how bad could it be when it felt so good?
“Okay,” she relented. “Maybe a little making out.”
“Just a little,” he agreed.
Then he covered her mouth with his own.
It was more than a kiss—it was an assault on all her senses, and Kenzie nearly whimpered in response to Spencer’s complete and masterful seduction of her mouth. Or maybe she did, because he immediately took the kiss deeper.
His tongue skimmed over her lips, and dipped inside when they parted. She met it with her own, following his lead in a slow and sensual dance. Without knowing how it happened, she was suddenly beneath him on the blanket, his lean, hard body levered over hers as his mouth continued to tease and taste. Gradually the tenor of the kiss changed. It got hotter and hungrier, and maybe a little desperate—exactly how she felt for him.
Six Weeks to Catch a Cowboy Page 15