All-American Cowboy

by Dylann Crush

  “You hate it, don’t you?”

  He hadn’t turned on the overhead light, so the only light coming in filtered through the windows. Her expression was difficult to read in the semidarkness.

  “I don’t hate it at all. It’s just…different from what I’m used to.”

  Different…that was the understatement of the century. Midtown Manhattan and Holiday, Texas, were about as polar opposite as two places could be. “How about some wine?”

  “Sure.” Her boots tapped on the hardwood floor as she took a self-guided tour.

  Beck set two glasses of wine on the glass dining table and returned to the kitchen for the pizza. He put a slice on a plate for each of them, then folded his slice and took a bite. He’d been enjoying the barbecue and Tex-Mex that Holiday had to offer, but there was nothing like authentic New York pizza. He missed the ability to walk out the door and have every kind of cuisine at his disposal. There was always something going on in the city. Nightlife in Holiday consisted of whatever happened to be going on at the Rose.

  “I can’t believe you’re eating pizza after devouring all that sushi.” She came to a stop at the edge of the table and sat down next to him.

  “And I can’t believe you’re here.” He wiped sauce off his chin and smiled at her. Alone at last. Even when they were at her place or when she came over to Sully’s, it never felt like they were truly alone. Someone seemed to notice every little thing they did. Whether his SUV was parked overnight in front of her cottage or the two of them disappeared into the office at the same time. There was always someone watching.

  “I can’t believe it either. Do you think everything is going to go okay this weekend? Maybe I should call Shep to check in.” Her lips pursed.

  “I already sent him a text. Let him know you got here and that your phone bit the dust so he should call me if he needs anything.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed. Think we can pick up a new phone tomorrow? I’d feel better if I had my own.”

  Beck slid his chair from the table and stood. “My assistant is taking care of it. Should be delivered first thing in the morning.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and the corner of her mouth quirked up. “What’s going on?”

  He stood behind her, massaging her shoulders and neck muscles. “Just making sure things are taken care of.”

  “About that. Your dad said something tonight.”

  Beck leaned down to move her hair away from her neck and kiss a trail from her shoulder to her ear. “Oh yeah?”

  Charlie leaned into him. “About the town not being much without the Rose.”

  “He’s right. The Rose is what puts Holiday on the map.”

  “Yeah, but he almost made it sound like the Rose wouldn’t be around much longer.”

  Beck stilled. That was one of the things he needed to address with his dad in the morning. He’d added a few clauses to their agreement, including the right for him to tell Charlie about the plans for the Rose. Holiday had been adamant that no one else know about their deal. But Beck couldn’t keep the information from her, not with where they were headed in their relationship. He needed to be able to tell her that his dad was taking over and that she’d continue on as manager.

  So he told her the truth, buying himself some time until he and Holiday had a signed agreement on both ends. “I have no idea what he meant by that remark, but I’ll be sure to ask him. Now, relax. I want you to have a good time this weekend. It’s our chance to focus on us. The Rose is in good hands. Your phone is in good hands.”

  “And now I’m in your good hands?”

  “Mmm. Something like that.” He backed away so she could slide out from the table.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and touched her lips to his. “All right, Mr. Manhattan. Show me what those good hands can do.”

  He was more than up for the challenge. It had only been a few days since he’d last lost himself inside her, and he wanted more, needed more. He’d never been like this with a woman. Sure, he enjoyed getting naked on a regular basis, but he’d always been able to keep his flings separate from his day-to-day life. Sex was more of a recreational sport, an outlet for pent-up energy, kind of like a great workout. He could schedule it in his calendar, then move on to the next task.

  But with Charlie, it was different. When he wasn’t with her, he thought about being with her. When he was with her, all he could think about was being inside her. When he was inside her, he couldn’t think about anything else at all.

  Consumed with need, he nudged her shirt off her shoulders and kissed along her collarbone. Her hands worked to untuck his shirt while their mouths met, parted, and met again. The woman generated a heat inside him that burned through his veins. He drew her into the living room without breaking lip contact. She fumbled with the buttons on his starched, white shirt. Too many clothes separated them. That needed to be rectified, stat.

  He lifted her shirt up and over her head, leaving her standing before him in that sexy lace tank. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her, find out what she had on under that long skirt. She shouldn’t wear things like that; it covered up too much skin.

  On fire with an urgency he couldn’t control, he tangled his hands in her hair. He should slow it down. They didn’t need to rush. They had all night, all weekend. His brain tried to put on the brakes, but his body demanded release. He reached under her tank and undid her bra, then slid the whole thing over her head, shirt and bra together.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He paused long enough to tease her nipples into hard peaks with his tongue.

  “All that sushi must have blurred your vision.”

  Why did she always downplay his compliments? “I mean it. You are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous, capable, brave, competent woman I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He put a hand on either side of her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

  Reluctantly, she did. He wanted to kiss her uncertainty away.

  “Do you have any idea how head over heels I am for you?”

  Her hands reached up to cover his. She held his gaze. “If it’s anywhere near what I feel for you, then we’re both tumbling ass over teakettle together.”

  His breath stalled. Something between them had shifted, deepened. She had to feel it, too. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue. Three little words he’d never uttered to a lover before. “Charlie, I—”

  She covered his mouth with hers, forcing his jeans down his hips. He stepped out of them, leaving his shoes and boxer briefs in a puddle on the floor.

  Backed against the glass, Charlie spread her hands out behind her. “The window—”

  “Tinted.” He captured her mouth with his again and sandwiched her between the skyline of Manhattan and his body. “Did you get to check out the view?”

  “What?”

  “Like this.” He spun her around so her palms pressed flat on the window. His hands reached under her skirt, relieving her of her panties.

  “Oh.” She tried to turn around, but he put a hand on hers, urging her to stay in place.

  Her skirt floated to the ground. He nudged her legs apart, and she leaned forward, lifting her backside toward him. With the lights of the city spread out in front of them, his hips rolled forward as he guided himself inside her. She arched into him, the hunt for her own pleasure taking precedence over fears of window washers or nosy neighbors.

  He wanted to pause the moment in time. Stamp his brain with the image of her leaning forward against his floor-to-ceiling windows in nothing but a pair of red cowboy boots. But he couldn’t stop the momentum if he’d wanted to. She’d set something loose inside him that he couldn’t control.

  As she came apart around him, her body molded into his. “Beck, I’m close.”

  “I’ve got you, angel.” He focused on her pleasure, and she took what he gave her, riding out the long wave of her relea
se.

  Before she came down, he let himself go, wrapping his arm around her waist and showing her with his body what he still hadn’t been able to say out loud.

  Satiated, he pressed a kiss against the fluttery pulse at the base of her neck.

  “Welcome to New York, baby.”

  * * *

  Charlie woke to the soft daylight filtering through the window. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Beck’s. A brief recap of the night before played through her mind. Sex by the window. Sex on the couch. She’d even spread herself over the glass dining room table, and he’d taken her there as her ass made butt prints where his cereal bowl should have been. No wonder she was sore. It felt like she’d gone out for a daylong trail ride after not sitting in the saddle for months. She almost snorted at her bad joke. She had saddle sores from riding Beck. Get a grip, Charlie.

  In the fuzzy light of early morning, she let herself take the look around she’d missed out on the night before. Beck’s place was so…not Beck. At least not the Beck she’d come to know down in Holiday. Plain white walls served as a backdrop for all of the black, gray, and silver. Black-leather headboard, gray duvet. Black flat-screen on top of a dark-gray dresser. Not a drop of color except for her discarded clothing she could see through the open doorway to the living room.

  She stretched her arms overhead and practically purred at the ache of satisfaction rolling through her exhausted limbs. Beck’s voice drifted in from the other room. Probably on that phone call with his dad. She rolled out of bed and located a T-shirt in one of his dresser drawers. Her bag hadn’t quite made it into the bedroom, and she didn’t want to eat her breakfast in the buff.

  Beck sat at a desk in the corner of the room in a pair of shorts and a polo. He held his phone in one hand and gestured her over with the other.

  “I’m sending it over now. Take a look and let me know if you have any changes. Once you sign, I’ll send a signed copy back, and we’ll both be in good shape.” He put his hand over the mic on his phone and nodded toward the table they’d desecrated the night before. “Got you a latte.”

  Seeing him here, on his home turf, made her heart hurt with the ache she knew would come. They hadn’t discussed the future much beyond him asking her if she’d stay on to manage the Rose. She still held out hope that he’d fall in love with the Rose and with Holiday. That he’d leave his life in New York behind and make a commitment to the town. That she’d be able to honor Sully’s wishes and secure the fate of the Rose. That maybe, just maybe, he’d fall for her.

  She took a sip of her latte and drifted toward the window. Manhattan spread out before her. Her gaze flickered from one building to the next, to the strip of water she could see in the distance, to people the size of ants scurrying around on the street below.

  Beck slipped behind her and ran his hands up her sides under the shirt. Her heart skittered at his touch, and her knees wobbled.

  “You get everything squared away with your dad?” she asked.

  “Almost. Just waiting on a piece of paper.” He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear. “How did you sleep?”

  She turned around in his arms and nestled her head against his chest. “Good. When you finally let me drift off.”

  “I missed you.”

  A warm knot formed in her chest, radiating heat out from the center. She’d missed him, too, more than she wanted to admit.

  “What are you up for today?” he asked.

  She palmed the front of his jeans. “Obviously I know what you’re up for.”

  “What can I say? I like the way you look in my shirt.”

  “Aren’t you going to show me around the city? Or did you trick me into coming to New York so you could keep me locked up in your bedroom as your personal sex toy?”

  “There it is. You found me out.” He nibbled at her earlobe. “Now, about tomorrow. I took the liberty of making an appointment for you at the spa in my building in the morning. Do we need to pick up something for you to wear? You know when they say picnic it’s really more of a fancy happy hour.”

  “A spa appointment? You afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

  “Of course not. I just want to spoil you.”

  “That might be nice. I brought a sundress and some sandals. Do you think I need to shop for something more formal? I don’t want to stick out like a fly in the fruit punch.”

  “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “What?”

  “Fly in the fruit punch?”

  “Just something my mama says.”

  Beck shook his head. “You’d look like dynamite if you tossed a burlap feed sack over your shoulders.”

  “You’re not afraid I’m too country for your friends?” Her eyes sparked with a glint of fire.

  “Absolutely not. I think you should wear your boots, a hat, and a guitar, like that guy we saw in Times Square last night, and pass yourself off as the Naked Cowgirl.”

  She swatted his side. “I don’t want to scare everyone away before they announce your dad’s award.”

  Her fingers ran through his hair. He must have had it cut when he got home. She liked how it had been in Holiday, longer and a little shaggy on the sides. A little less polished and a lot more “go with the flow.” She stood there for a long while, avoiding the temptation of dragging him back to bed. She wanted to brand this moment in time, stamp it on her heart, and emblazon it on her brain.

  This man.

  Without even knowing it, he’d given her so much already. He made her braver, willing to step outside her comfort zone. He made her feel. She’d been numb for so long. Because of Beck, she felt everything now—the good along with the bad. He’d jump-started her heart, like on those medical shows where the ER doctor yells “clear” and they shock the person right back to life. She’d owe him for that for the rest of her life.

  Those Holiday men had a knack for pulling her out of her darkest moments. First Sully, now Beck. No matter what happened between them, no matter what the future held, no matter what he decided to do about the Rose, she’d always be grateful to him for bringing her heart back to life. For piecing it back together and allowing her to feel again. Even if he was probably going to end up breaking it in the long run.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Charlie tossed her new phone into her bag, then took the hand Beck offered and climbed out of the town car he’d hired to drive them to the picnic. She smoothed her hair, which had been highlighted, trimmed, and swept into a twist. The shade of red the manicurist had painted her nails perfectly matched her lacy red sundress. She batted her eyes against the sun, feeling like she had some little insects stuck to her eyelids with those fake eyelashes on. Seeing Beck’s reaction to her makeover had been worth the three hours she’d spent at the salon.

  She hated the idea of flying home tomorrow. They hadn’t had enough time together.

  “You ready for this?” He squeezed her hand.

  “I suppose. It’ll be nice to go home and check on Baby Back, but I’m not ready to leave you yet.”

  “We’ve still got tonight.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t get you all to myself.”

  “We have to stay long enough for me to accept the award. Then we can head back to my place, and you can have your way with me again.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re a hard woman to please, Ms. Walker.”

  “Oh, stop it. Just promise me you’ll stay by my side the whole time.” She was nervous enough about trying to fit in; she didn’t want to navigate the upper echelon of New York society on her own all night.

  “I promise.”

  If only she’d packed those heeled sandals she thought she’d thrown in her bag. Instead, her feet were comfortably encased in her cute boots. She wouldn’t hesitate to wear boots with a dress at home. But how many of these chic fashionistas would be sporting Tony Lama’s?

 
As they passed through the waterfront estate of one of Mr. Holiday’s business associates, she scanned the guests on the lawn. White, beige, light blue, muted pastels. It was like entering some sort of high-class Easter party with the colors muted by a dim filter. She bit her lip and held her straw bag closer to her side. Beck squeezed her hand, probably trying to send a jolt of silent encouragement through his fingers.

  Before she could fake some sort of illness and make a break for the car, an older couple approached.

  “Beck, so glad you could make it.” The man wore white dress pants with a light-blue blazer and a pin-striped oxford.

  “Mr. Samuels, thanks for having us. My dad sends his regrets.”

  “We tried to change the date when we found out he’d be out of town, but you know how it is trying to get the party planner and caterer rebooked. Not to mention the florist.” The woman gestured behind her, where tables with tall bouquets of flowers dotted the gigantic paver patio. She took Beck’s hands and air-kissed both of his cheeks. “We’re glad you could be here to accept the award on his behalf.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Mr. and Mrs. Samuels, I’d like you to meet Charlotte Walker.” Beck put his hand on the small of her back, propelling her forward.

  “Charlotte, how lovely you could join us.” Mrs. Samuels took Charlie’s hand in hers and glanced toward the boots. “Can we assume you’re from Texas? I hear that’s where Beck has been hiding out this summer.”

  “Nice to meet you, and thanks for having me. Yes, I’m from Holiday.”

  Mr. Samuels let out a deep laugh. “We got such a kick out of that. Finding out your dad had a whole town named after him down in Texas. Welcome, Charlotte.” Mr. Samuels took her hand in a firm grip. “Can’t say we have any barbecue or cowboy fare. But you should try the lobster rolls. They’re my favorite.” He let go of her hand and patted his nonexistent belly. Seemed like everyone at the party could have posed for a fitness magazine. She didn’t see a roll of skin, a wrinkle, or a flabby tricep on any of the partygoers.

  “We don’t want to monopolize the guest of honor. Why don’t the two of you go mingle? Make sure you get one of the rhubarb martinis. The caterer said they’re all the rage this summer. Rhubarb? Can you imagine? I’ve never made anything from rhubarb before.” Mrs. Samuels twittered and waved a jeweled wrist in the air, like she’d just made a hysterical joke.