Cowboy Untamed

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Driving through the silent streets, he was torn between guilt and elation. Rosie’s sculpture looked good. Parts of it had been a challenge but he’d met those challenges tonight and he was proud of the result. In the process, he’d forgotten all about Sapphire.

  How could he do that? He’d counted on his hormones to keep him aware that he had a sexy woman waiting for him. He’d never wanted any woman as much as he wanted her, so if thoughts of her hadn’t penetrated his single-minded absorption in his work, nothing would.

  What if she was right, and he had a fatal flaw like all the other guys? He might not be disorganized and immature. He certainly didn’t have a superiority complex and he couldn’t imagine cheating on her. But he’d allowed his work to blot out all thoughts of his promise to return to her tonight.

  Worse yet, he’d probably do it again, either with her or the next girlfriend. His concentration on his art had been an issue more than once with the women he’d dated. He’d considered himself so much better than the jerks she’d been with, but had any of them been capable of forgetting her completely?

  He couldn’t even claim she’d been on the fringes of his mind. He hadn’t thought of her once as he’d labored over the sculpture into the wee hours. She likely wouldn’t be comforted to know he hadn’t thought of Rosie, either.

  Using his devotion to his foster mother was tempting, but it wasn’t the reason he’d kept working. His foster mother had inspired the original concept, but after he’d fully involved himself in the process, the piece had become an end in itself. He loved his work and he wondered for the first time if that precluded him loving anything or anyone else.

  The house was dark. By the time he’d put away his tools and started the drive back here, the clock on his dash had shown him that four o’clock wasn’t far away. Her alarm was set for six. He’d mucked up whatever chance he’d had to convince her he was the right guy for her.

  Because he wasn’t. A woman like Sapphire deserved better than being stood up when she’d spent the evening cleaning cat hair out of her bathroom. He thought of the pile of towels he’d left and the fur in the bathtub drain. He’d never mentioned Gandalf’s love of showers.

  He parked behind her purple truck and remembered the moment when he’d held her close and made that asinine comment about not kissing her because he’d never leave if he did. She’d sent him on his way and encouraged him to get his work done. She’d trusted him to keep his part of the bargain.

  The cheater’s key slid smoothly into the lock and he let himself into the quiet house and locked the door behind him. The place smelled of soap and lemon oil. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the black robe lying over the arm of the sofa. He picked it up and sniffed. She’d washed that, too, and left it for him.

  He felt lower than a snake’s belly. Deciding to undress in the living room because that would make less noise, he carefully took off his clothes, folded them and laid them on the sofa. Then he put on the robe she’d readied for him. His incurable optimism prompted him to transfer the condom from his jeans to the robe.

  Maybe he should bed down on the sofa and not disturb her. But that seemed wrong, as if he wanted to distance himself from her. If he had any decency, he would distance himself and let her find a nice guy who didn’t have a creative bone in his body.

  But whatever happened between them, he’d never want her to think that he didn’t want her. He might not deserve her. In fact, he was pretty damn certain on that point. But that didn’t mean he didn’t crave her with every fiber of his being, selfish bastard that he was.

  Luckily, he knew the bedroom layout by now and even in the dark he could find the bed. She’d always favored the right side, so he felt confident in taking off the robe and sliding in on the left. But she must have switched positions, because he bumped up against her warm body and she immediately came awake.

  “Grady?”

  “Shh. Go back to sleep. I’ll climb in on the other side.”

  “No.” She grabbed for him and caught hold of his arm. “I took this side so I’d know when you got in. Let me scoot over. Are you okay?”

  His breath stalled. He’d pictured her angry, not worried. He slipped under the covers and gathered her close. “I’m fine. I got involved in the sculpture and lost track of time. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I told myself that was what happened.” She snuggled against him. “I’ve seen how you focus. But I have a good imagination, so I dreamed up all sorts of tragic scenarios. I’m glad none of those were true.”

  He was stunned. “You’re not upset with me?”

  “How could I be? You were lost in your work. It happens.” She wrapped her arms around him and promptly fell asleep.

  Holding her close, he stared into the darkness. He’d found a woman who understood his preoccupation with his work, which was a certified miracle. He’d been prepared to exit her life because that was the decent thing to do when he couldn’t be the man she needed.

  But she’d just accepted the single worst thing about him without so much as a whimper or a whine. He couldn’t have predicted that in a million years. He’d known she was special, but he hadn’t known how special. She wasn’t going to get rid of him easily.

  * * *

  HE SLEPT THROUGH her alarm. She must have showered and dressed upstairs, because the first noise he heard was the sound of her truck starting up. Shitfire. Leaping out of bed, he was about to race after her when it occurred to him he was naked. The neighbors hadn’t caught him having sex with her on the front porch, but they’d likely notice if he ran down her driveway with his junk jiggling.

  Rushing into the freshly cleaned bathroom, he found the note she’d taped to the mirror. Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Take your time. I’ll feed Gandalf. We’ll see you when you get there.

  Nothing else. No smiley face, no Love, Sapphire. No signature at all. But then, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t know who’d written it. She wouldn’t want to put anything in writing that could be misinterpreted as mushy.

  She didn’t sound mad, though. Considering he’d stumbled in at four in the morning and had slept straight through the alarm and her preparations to leave, she had a right to be mildly irritated, at least.

  Instead she was acting like a person who understood what happened when the work took hold and wouldn’t let go, as if she’d been in that same place. That was exciting to think about. Ever since the day three weeks ago when he’d come over to the Art Barn with Cade, he’d known he and Sapphire had a sexual connection. What a bonus if she got him.

  With no Gandalf to join him in the shower, he made it out of the house in no time. On the way to the Art Barn he detoured past the bakery and bought a couple dozen assorted doughnuts. Then he picked up a fast-food egg sandwich and coffee from the drive-through and ate on the way.

  He was feeling reasonably human by the time he parked in front of the barn. Only three other vehicles were there, so the whole group hadn’t arrived yet. Sapphire, George and Arlene were in residence. He’d identified Arlene and George as Sapphire’s core supporters of the program.

  He grabbed the box of doughnuts and walked through the front door. Then he paused and listened to the sound of artists at work—Arlene singing under her breath as she painted, George sanding a piece of wood in preparation for carving, Sapphire’s wheel humming. He enjoyed the energy of this place. Working alone had its value, but this had been a nice change.

  George stuck his head out. “Hey, Grady. Whatcha got?”

  “Something for the coffee break. Pretend you never saw it.”

  “Gotcha.” He went back to work.

  Grady set the treats on the desk in the office and was in the process of getting a cup of coffee to take back to his stall when Gandalf rubbed up against his leg. “Hey, buddy!” He put down his mug and picked up the cat. He got a kick out of knowing Gandalf had heard or smelled him and had come to say hello.

  The cat purred like there was no tomorrow as Grady scratched under his chin. “Loo
ks like you survived staying alone for a little while. Wasn’t long, though. Tonight you’ll have to hang out by yourself for a good twelve hours. But at least you have a whole barn to explore. Gotta be more interesting than staying in a bathroom.”

  Gandalf closed his eyes and stretched his neck in ecstasy. Whatever trauma he’d suffered while he was on his own seemed forgotten. The shelter vet had mentioned that he’d need a cat carrier for the long drive to Cody, but Grady hated the idea of sticking him in an enclosed space. He’d look for one with mesh sides so Gandalf could see him.

  “Hey, I need to get to work, buddy.” After one last scratch, he put the cat down and picked up his mug of coffee. Gandalf trotted at his heels on the way to his space.

  Arlene leaned around her easel and waved. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. Sapphire was intent on her wheel as red clay responded to her touch, rising to form a vase that resembled the hourglass shape of a woman. He paused for a bare second, not wanting to interrupt. Besides, the sight of her molding that clay got him hot.

  He hadn’t felt her hands on his naked body since yesterday morning, and that was his own damned fault. Moving on, he glanced over at George’s workbench and exchanged a quick salute with the wood-carver. The heron Grady coveted had a big red sold sign hanging around its neck.

  Gandalf leaped to the top of his cat tree and curled up as if he’d lived in the barn for years instead of hours. Grady chuckled at the cat’s smug expression as he stared down from his perch. Finally, though, he couldn’t put off the moment any longer. It was time to take a look at the wolves in the light of day. Something that he thought was genius at three in the morning might have turned to crap by the time he’d had some sleep.

  Setting his hat brim-side-up on a nearby shelf, he took a deep breath and turned toward the sculpture. His heart beat faster. It was good, really good. Thank God for that, because if it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have had time to fix it. He had a little more to do, but not much. He could finish this morning and then start organizing what he’d need for the cougar.

  He grabbed his welding gloves and his goggles, intent on those few touches—an ear that wasn’t quite what he wanted and a tail that needed adjustment. Minor tweaks.

  “Before you start...”

  He glanced up.

  Sapphire stood just outside his area wiping clay from her hands with a damp cloth. “Uh-oh. You’ve already started. I can see that from the look in your eyes. It’s okay. We can talk later.” She turned to leave.

  “No, wait. Don’t go away.” He set down the goggles and gloves. “You deserve an apology...” He paused to lower his voice. They weren’t exactly alone. “I was supposed to help you with the cats this morning.” And make love to you last night and again this morning in the shower.

  “No worries.” She smiled. “Fred came over and sniffed me.”

  “You’re kidding!” And he’d missed it.

  “He’s definitely changing his ways. Last night I blinked at him and he blinked back, and this morning—”

  “Hold on. What’s blinking have to do with it?”

  “I learned that from a shelter volunteer. If a cat blinks at you, it’s a sign they’re willing to be friends. The human can start it off and see if the cat responds. It’s a good way to find out how socialized they are.”

  “I’ll be damned. Never heard that before.”

  “Anyway, it’s possible that you were right. Fred might have noticed your interaction with Gandalf and maybe it triggered a distant memory of human interaction. But that’s not what I came over to talk about.”

  “I’m glad to hear about Fred, though. I know you like him.” He needed to hold her more than he needed to breathe. This definitely wasn’t the time. He had hours to wait for that privilege.

  “The important part is coaxing him to like me. I think he’s getting there.”

  “Good.” He was miles ahead of that tuxedo cat. He’d shot way past the liking stage and was fairly sure he’d entered love territory.

  “I came over to ask if I can go out to Thunder Mountain with you.”

  He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d pulled out castanets and launched into a flamenco dance routine. “Well, sure, but...I thought you had reservations.”

  “I did. I do. But then I came in this morning and saw your wolves.” She held his gaze. “They’re magnificent.”

  “Thank you.” Her sincere praise affected him enough that he had to clear his throat. “Glad you like them.”

  “I love them and she will, too. The moment she first sees them will be very special. I can’t bear to miss it.”

  “Great.” He sucked in a breath. “That’s great.” Now he felt like pulling out castanets and launching into a flamenco dance routine. Or better yet, he wanted to pick her up and whirl her around like guys did in the movies. But too much enthusiasm might freak her out and telegraph their situation to the others. He settled for a smile. “I’ll text Rosie and tell her to set an extra place for dinner.”

  “You’re not going to say who it’s for?”

  “You tell me. Which way would you rather play it?”

  “Tell her I’ll be with you. I don’t want a little surprise of me showing up to take anything away from the big surprise of the wolves.”

  “Okay.” This was shaping up to be a fantastic night.

  “Can I bring anything?”

  “I would say a bottle of Baileys because she loves that with coffee, but apparently, she’s still working on a case of it three of the guys got her last summer. You don’t have to bring anything.”

  “But I’ve never been out there. I don’t like arriving empty-handed.”

  “Then how about a bottle of wine? That always works.”

  “What kind?”

  “Anything. Just some decent brand. They’re not picky.”

  She brightened. “I know!” Then she looked uncertain. “But maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

  “What?”

  “I have this bottle of two-hundred-dollar wine I’ve never opened...”

  “Hell, yes. Bring it.”

  “That wouldn’t bother you?”

  “Not a bit. Terrific idea.” And maybe before he left, he’d talk her into giving away the shirt and burning the Valentine’s Day card. Progress was being made.

  13

  SAPPHIRE FOUND OUT that Grady’s truck had a CD player, so she brought one of Amethyst’s albums for the trip out to the ranch. Her sister tended to sing upbeat tunes and Sapphire figured they’d need a distraction since they’d both be nervous and excited.

  The wolf sculpture lay in the back wrapped in a tarp, secured with rope and cushioned by a thick piece of carpet. Fortunately, the bundle sat low in the truck bed, virtually out of sight unless someone leaned over the side to peer in. They’d arrive after sunset, so the gathering darkness should keep Rosie and Herb from noticing anything.

  “Your sister has an awesome voice,” Grady said after Amethyst’s first number. “Thanks for bringing the CD. I feel like a Mexican jumping bean but the music helps.”

  “I listen to her albums whenever I need to get out of my own head.”

  “She just goes by Amethyst?”

  “Yeah. It’s a great name. Stands on its own. She’s a local talent now but I predict she’ll get her big break.”

  “With a voice like that, she should.”

  They talked about her sister’s career during the next song, but then they lapsed into silence. Amethyst’s music usually had that effect on people. They wanted to shut up and listen to the lyrics, most of which her sister wrote. Some of the tunes were love songs and a couple of times Sapphire caught Grady glancing over at her.

  She wasn’t an idiot. She knew he was falling for her, and if she allowed herself to, she’d fall for him. He’d be easy to love, this broad-shouldered cowboy with the drive and talent to make beautiful art and an earthy sensuality that turned sex into an adventure. He was exactly her type, and that was the problem.

&nb
sp; If he lived in town, she could get to know him better and watch for that relationship-wrecker trait to show up. Or not. But he didn’t live here and a week wasn’t enough time to uncover all facets of his personality.

  She’d learned he could get lost in his work, which could be seen as a negative, although she didn’t consider it one. He was mildly possessive, but she couldn’t blame him for objecting to the shirt. He was okay with her bringing Edgar’s wine. She’d debated whether to retrieve the bottle afterward, but maybe she didn’t need these reminders so much anymore. Taking it back with them would be kind of dorky.

  The sun had dropped below the Bighorn Mountains by the time they drove up to the one-story ranch house. Grady turned off the engine. “This is it, the place that I called home for two years.”

  “I can see why you loved it.” Sapphire took in the long front porch lined with Adirondack chairs painted in the academy colors of brown and green. The porch was empty but she pictured it filled with kids drinking soda and soaking up the ambiance.

  “You can’t see the meadow or the cabins from here.” He rolled down the window. “But you can hear the kids.” Music and laughter drifted on the evening breeze. “Man, that brings back memories.” He inhaled deeply. “They must be burning logs in the fire pit. Probably toasting marshmallows.”

  She smiled. “Sure you wouldn’t rather go down there and eat burned marshmallows with the kids?”

  “Nope. I can also smell Rosie’s meat loaf. It’s good to be home.” He paused. “That might sound strange when I only lived here two years, but we moved a lot when I was a kid. Mom would get a raise and we’d pack up and go to a nicer rental. I never lived in the house she and my stepdad own, so this is the one constant from my early years.”

  “And a comforting one, I’ll bet.”

  “Yep.” He gazed at the barn a short distance away. A couple of slender kids walked out and closed the double doors, then slid a beam across to secure them. “They’ve finished their evening chores. I miss having horses around. I used to ride every chance I got.”