Should've Been a Cowboy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “That was my plan.” And to illustrate that he was indeed a self-serving jerk, he still wanted to follow that plan. He wouldn’t, but he wanted to.

  “There’s a good chance we’d both go into withdrawal if we did that.”

  Sighing, he leaned his head back against the window. “I was willing to risk it for myself. I didn’t want to admit that I might be risking it for you.”

  “I’m a big girl. I should be able to watch out for myself. And I will, starting now.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “Maybe not immediately, but eventually.”

  He groaned. “I don’t want you to hurt, Tyler. I never wanted that.”

  “I’ll get over it.”

  “I know it’s not an excuse, but Crystal didn’t seem to suffer much when she left, and I… I made the mistake of thinking you had the same ability to cut a guy out of your life without agonizing over it.”

  “Because I’m a party girl?”

  “You’re not a party girl. I know that. But you’re used to having lots of people around, and I thought… never mind what I thought.”

  “That having all those people around, I wouldn’t miss you?”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I thought. I hope someday you can forgive me.”

  “Oh, Alex, I already have.”

  He suspected she might be on the verge of tears, which made him really want to hold her. But he no longer trusted his own motives.

  “We should get going,” she said. “It would be very bad if we ran out of gas again.”

  “That’s for damn sure.” Squaring up in the seat, he released the emergency and put the truck in gear. They drove the rest of the way in silence, and he used the time to plan how he’d get through the next few days without being able to touch her.

  He’d known that once she left, he’d miss her like crazy, and he hadn’t been looking forward to that. But somehow this prospect seemed worse. He could see the logic of it, but in practice it would be sheer torture.

  One thing he knew without a shadow of a doubt. If he heard the intro to Annie’s Song tomorrow, he would get the hell out of there.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tyler woke early to the sound of rain on the cedar roof. Climbing out of the four-poster, she tugged at the hem of her short nightgown and padded over to the pair of double-hung windows. Blue bandana-print curtains that hung on either side of the windows were obviously for decorative purposes, only.

  How freeing to have so much property that privacy wasn’t an issue. Tyler peered out through the raindrops sliding down the glass. She assumed the Tetons were visible from the front bedrooms, but the back ones like hers looked out on pastureland that sloped gently down to a line of trees that appeared ghostly in the mist. She wondered if Archie Chance had cleared that pasture for his cattle back in the forties.

  A few head grazed there this morning, but they were only rented cattle for the cutting horse demonstrations Gabe and Jack had planned for the open house. She glanced at the small alarm clock sitting on an antique bedside table. She’d set the alarm for six-thirty, but it was only a little past six. She walked over, shut off the alarm, and crawled back under sheets that had been hand-embroidered and a quilt that also looked handmade.

  She thought about Alex across the hall and wondered if he’d slept. Probably. Men seemed to be able to sleep no matter what anxieties plagued them. She’d slept, too, but not straight through.

  She’d woken up several times, and each time she’d fought the urge to go across the hall and climb into bed with Alex. Keeping her hands off him would be a challenge, but she’d do it.

  Part of her restlessness had to do with Alex, but part of it had to do with a bed that didn’t rock. Most of her nights were spent on the move as the Sea Goddess sailed from port to port. She’d always told herself that she liked that gentle movement and that it lulled her to sleep at night.

  And she did like it, but… there was something really nice about a big log home set firmly on a foundation. The view out her window wasn’t the vast ocean, but from the second story she had a wide vista, and in some ways it was more interesting than the unbroken horizon of the open sea.

  Lying snuggled under covers that carried the scent of lavender and cedar, she allowed herself to admit things that would have been unthinkable a few weeks ago, maybe even a few days ago. She was beginning to question how much longer she wanted to be in the cruise business, how much longer she was willing to live in a tiny efficiency apartment in the middle of L.A.

  Thanks to Morgan, she was seeing what a real home might feel like. Even sleeping in this bed, which quite possibly belonged to the couple who’d built this ranch, had contributed to her sense of a solid, enduring legacy. Of ownership. She didn’t own anything but a few sticks of basic furniture and her clothes. Suddenly that seemed uncomfortably rootless.

  Thoughts of Alex were tied in there somewhere, too, but she’d be a fool to imagine settling down with him. In the first place, he hadn’t asked her to. In the second place, she’d need a way to earn a living, and the Last Chance didn’t require the services of a cruise director.

  Although she had savings that would carry her a little while if she left the cruise company, she’d have to find a new job. She’d made up her mind at an early age that she’d always have a job and never be dependent on someone else the way her mother was. Her father had earned whatever money they had and her mother had spent all her time economizing and taking care of children, which weren’t highly marketable skills.

  Tyler had marketable skills, but she wasn’t sure if or how they’d translate from sea to land. Maybe they would and maybe they wouldn’t. She’d definitely have to start over with whatever career she dreamed up for herself. In the meantime, she had a good chance at a wonderful promotion which would give her a nice salary increase. She couldn’t afford to turn her back on that. Could she?

  The aroma of coffee brewing and bacon frying brought her back to the present. A quick glance at the clock told her she needed to leave this cozy bed and start her day. She’d promised to help put on this party, and she was a person who delivered on her promises. She had arrangements to supervise and a quick practice session to schedule with Watkins, the guitar-playing ranch hand.

  Pulling on the same terry robe Sarah had loaned her the night before, she gathered up her toiletries and opened her bedroom door. Whoops. She had either bad timing or good timing, depending on how she wanted to look at it.

  Or how she wanted to look at him. Alex stood in the bathroom doorway, his hair damp, his jaw freshly shaven, and his gaze resting firmly on her. He wore only a towel.

  He’d wrapped it casually around his hips, and it was all she could do not to step forward, slip a finger between towel and damp male skin, and pull. From the way his gray eyes smoldered and the towel twitched, she had a good idea what would happen after that.

  His broad chest, lightly covered with dark blond hair, lifted as he took a deep breath. “Good morning.” His sexy DJ’s voice reached out to her, tempting her to move closer.

  With great effort, she stayed where she was. But even from here she could smell soap, shaving cream, and his citrusy aftershave. The longer they stood there staring at each other, the more those manmade scents mingled with the heady fragrance of good old-fashioned desire, both his and hers. Just like in Annie’s Song, he filled up her senses.

  She swallowed. “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Sleep well?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “Fine.” His hot glance traveled slowly down her body to her toes, before making a leisurely journey back up to her face again.

  Her body warmed and moistened as if he’d caressed every inch of her and paid special attention to all the secret places that longed for his touch. Her breathing grew shallow. “That wasn’t fair.”

  “Why? You just did it to me.”

  “I did not!” But she flushed, knowing that she probably had done exactly that, starting with his s
haven jaw, moving to his bare chest, and sliding down his taut stomach to the knotted towel. She’d imagined that he was aroused beneath it. Her once-over had been as sexual as his.

  “Okay, maybe I did,” she admitted. “But you caught me by surprise.”

  “You forgot we were sharing a bathroom?”

  “No, not really. I just didn’t expect to come out of my room and find you standing there… practically naked.”

  “Do you want to establish rules for hallway attire?”

  “No.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, because I put on the towel in deference to you. When I’m up here by myself I don’t even bother.”

  “I see.” She wanted him so much she was starting to shake. She clenched her hands around the toiletries bag.

  “In fact, if we’d continued on the way we’d planned yesterday, I wouldn’t be wearing a towel even if you were here. But then, you wouldn’t be wearing a bathrobe, plus whatever nightgown you have on.”

  “How do you know I’m wearing a nightgown?”

  “I looked you over very carefully a moment ago, and there’s a piece of lace sticking out where your robe isn’t closed all the way.”

  “Oh.” She clutched the lapels of her robe in one hand, not sure whether she wanted to hold it together or rip it open. Actually, she did know what she wanted, but she’d made a decision and she would abide by it.

  “I wondered if you slept naked. We’ve never actually been in the same bed together, so I was curious about that.”

  She was curious about how he slept, too, but she wasn’t going to ask. Besides, she already suspected what the answer would be. The thought of him lying naked in a king-sized bed fanned the flames that licked at her body, tightened her nipples, and dampened the bikini panties that went with her short nightgown.

  “The bathroom’s all yours.” He stepped out of the doorway and started down the hall.

  She’d taken two steps forward when he turned, and she froze in place, not sure what he might do, not sure what her response would be. She wanted to be strong, but if he came back and pulled her into his arms…

  “I’ll share a tip with you,” he said, “because I have to say, you look as if you’re feeling as horny as I am.”

  “You’re wrong. I’m—”

  “Be that as it may, the shower’s a great place to work off some of your frustration. You might even want to detach the shower head. It has several settings.”

  She longed for a snappy comeback, but her brain had been pickled by a flood of hormones. She managed a choked thanks.

  “You’re welcome. Enjoy.” He continued on to his room and walked inside. He didn’t bother closing the door.

  And why should he? They’d agreed not to have sex anymore, so closed doors shouldn’t be necessary any more than she should have to bunk down with her sister Morgan to avoid climbing into bed with Alex again. They were adults who should be able to control themselves.

  And she was hanging on by a thread. Once she was in the bathroom with the door closed, she thought about his suggestion. If he hadn’t been standing in the hall wearing only a towel, she might not be in this condition. Even then, if he hadn’t given her that look, she might still have been okay. All the talk about what she wore or didn’t wear to bed had been the final straw.

  Stripping down, she turned on the shower, stepped inside, and unhooked the shower head. Sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

  Alex wondered why he tortured himself, and decided he did it because she was torturing herself, too. He’d been doing his best to maintain control. He’d thought of her all through the long night, but he’d stayed in his room. This morning, while passing her door, he’d resisted the strong compulsion to go climb in bed with her.

  But oh, how he’d wanted to. Instead he’d taken a right turn into the bathroom where he’d sought release under the shower spray. Some time later, shaved, showered, and mellow, he’d exited the bathroom feeling proud for staying away from her. Then she’d come out of her bedroom and looked at him as if she wanted to eat him up.

  She’d even had the nerve to protest when he returned the favor. Irritated by how quickly she got under his skin, he’d delivered that stupid parting shot about the shower head. But the last laugh was on him. The image of her taking his suggestion was burned into his brain, and his cock was so hard he couldn’t fasten the fly of his jeans.

  Damn it, he was not having solo sex again. He was stronger than that. He would distract himself… somehow. Pulling off his boots and stripping off his jeans, he paced the length of his bedroom while counting backwards from a hundred. When that didn’t work, he did it by threes.

  He heard the shower go on and began to hum to drown out the sound, because he knew, he just knew what she was doing in there. He’d had to open his big mouth. Only a wall separated him from Tyler, who was most certainly standing in that shower using pulsing water as a substitute for him. A soft moan that barely penetrated the wall confirmed it.

  His imagination painted a vivid picture of Tyler braced against the shower wall as she moved the spray over her breasts, her stomach, and at last centered it where it would do the most good. He couldn’t hear her breathing quicken, couldn’t hear her gasp, but he knew how she’d sound, because he’d been there enough times when she was climaxing.

  Teeth clenched, he stalked over to the double-hung windows set side-by-side and focused on the Tetons, hoping the mountain range would give him some perspective. No such luck. Gray clouds hung low over the peaks, and no doubt at that altitude it was snowing. He thought about the French meaning of teton — tits — which took him right back to Tyler, naked in the shower.

  Leaning his forehead against the cool glass, he took a deep breath, and another, and another. The shower had stopped running. Thank God. Of course now he pictured her toweling off. She’d rub the soft terry over her wet body and her breasts would shift gently with the movement of the towel. Would she imagine his hands there? His mouth?

  He was a mess.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the bathroom door opened and the sound of her bare feet moving over the hardwood floor made him suck in another deep breath to keep from going after her. Then her bedroom door closed.

  He grabbed his towel and hot-footed it back to the bathroom. The delicious scents left behind by the woman he couldn’t have assaulted him, but that couldn’t be helped. He shoved back the shower curtain and discovered she’d neatly replaced the shower head after her little orgy.

  Turning on the cold tap, he stripped off his briefs, stepped under the icy spray, and closed the curtain. He figured she’d be able to hear him taking a second shower. Oh, well. He’d promised to keep away from her. He hadn’t promised to make it look easy. Managing this new regime was liable to take a lot of running water.

  Tyler didn’t have to think very hard about why Alex was taking another shower. After she’d allowed the shower head to do its job, she’d expected to be less needy, but instead she’d kicked her libido up a notch. So she’d shut off the hot water and finished her shower with cold.

  If Alex was having as much trouble as she was dealing with their sexual attraction, he might have needed a session with cold water, too. If so, their predicament was bordering on ridiculous. They were indeed behaving like a couple of refrigerator magnets, just as Morgan had said.

  She dressed quickly, choosing a pair of tight black jeans with rhinestones decorating the back pockets. She’d bought those on a whim, thinking the bling might be too sparkly for a working ranch, but if she was supposed to be the entertainment, they’d be perfect. High-heeled boots, a black silk blouse and chandelier rhinestone earrings added more glamour to her look. She dried her hair quickly, piled it on top of her head, and fastened it with tiny combs and hairpins, several of which were decorated with rhinestones.

  Yes, she looked sexy as hell, and Alex wouldn’t appreciate that. But she couldn’t worry about the effect on Alex. She’d spent enough time looking like a bedraggled waif.<
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  Now she intended to show off her other side, the woman who directed activities aboard a luxury cruise ship, the woman capable of dazzling the Last Chance’s open house guests. If she put them in a buying mood, that would benefit everyone and would ultimately help Morgan and Gabe. Alex would just have to deal with seeing her like this.

  As she put the finishing touches on her makeup, she heard him coming down the hall, his booted feet striking the wooden floor with swift precision. He didn’t pause beside her door on his way toward the stairs. Good. They’d made it through their first morning of waking up within twenty feet of each other.

  She would have to talk with him, though. They had to work together this morning, unless he’d decided against using her help. She hoped he hadn’t. He needed her, and not only in a sexual way.

  On her way down the curved wooden staircase, she spotted Sarah coming from the west side of the house.

  Sarah glanced up and gave a low whistle. “You look stunning.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sarah waited for her at the bottom of the steps. “I love my sons to pieces, but I wouldn’t have minded having a girl, too. Girl clothes are so much more fun than boy clothes.”

  “So are you hoping Morgan has a girl?” Tyler walked with Sarah through the living room where the scent of wood smoke lingered from the night before.

  “A little bit, maybe, although I’ll be thrilled no matter what she has. Now that Josie’s pregnant, I have another shot at a girl. I’m hoping for several grandchildren, so statistically at least one has to be female, right?”

  “You’d think so.” They headed down the hallway. “In any case, those grandchildren will be lucky to grow up in such a beautiful place.”

  “Yes, they will. I only wish Jonathan had lived long enough to be able to teach them to ride and take them on fishing trips. He was so looking forward to that someday.”