by Flynn, Ava
"You’re the guest."
Lily understood the ranch’s policy, but something about what Heidi said didn’t sit right. It was as if Connor and his feelings didn’t matter. And the fact that he’d left her this simple bouquet told her that he was a man with feelings. He wasn’t just a sexual plaything.
Then how had he ended up here doing what he did? And why was she so interested in the story behind the man who’d honestly given her the best orgasm she’d had in her life?
Once the call was over, she headed back outside to work on a painting. But after several minutes of trying to make the scenic view work, she gave up and simply stared at the mountains in the distance. She found herself wishing for nightfall. The need to talk to Connor, to tell him herself that everything was okay pulled at her.
Sometimes she wondered if Matthew Macon had damaged more than her face, if he’d broken something inside of her that would never heal. Was that why she’d thought making love to a stranger in the dark would magically make everything better? Was that why she couldn’t stop thinking about that stranger? Macon had done her psychological harm, so the last thing she wanted to do was do that to someone else.
She shook her head. What in the world made her think that anything she could do would cause damage to a man like Connor? She doubted guys who were fragile went into this line of work.
Giving up on being creative for the moment, she headed inside for a glass of lemonade. When she spotted the flowers, inspiration struck. Forgoing the lemonade, she grabbed the bottle of wildflowers and took them outside. After placing them back in the spot where Connor had left them, she retraced her steps back to her work area. She replaced the lifeless canvas with a fresh one and mixed paint until she got just the right shade of yellow.
Something came alive in her as she painted, making her smile as she put just the right curve on a petal. When she realized how different she felt now than when she’d been hiding in the bathroom waiting for Connor to leave, she stopped and stared at the partially completed painting then at the bouquet that had inspired it. Why had such a simple gesture, one that could possibly have been calculated to keep her happy so he didn’t have a ding on his job record, changed her attitude so much?
Maybe because it was so simple, so kind and thoughtful. Maybe because for some reason she couldn’t believe that he hadn’t meant anything self-serving by leaving it by her front door. Why she felt that about a man she didn’t even know, she had no idea. But she did. Something about how he’d treated her the night before, how he’d sounded genuinely concerned that morning, told her he was a good person.
And she couldn’t very well judge him for his job when she was the one paying him to do it.
She leaned back slowly in her chair and placed her paints and paintbrush aside. What in the world was she going to do for the rest of the week? Did she want to talk to Connor again? Would they find anything to talk about beyond her assurances that he’d done nothing wrong?
She lifted her face toward the sun and closed her eyes. She replayed the previous night in her mind. Part of her was shouting that she wasn’t that type of girl, but she couldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed how he’d made her feel. Wasn’t that what she’d come to the ranch to feel, desired? Even if it was a fantasy, did that make the physical enjoyment any less real?
The more questions she asked herself, the more confused she became. Shaking her head and opening her eyes, she picked up her paintbrush and got back to work. Maybe by the time she finished the painting, she’d have come to a decision about Connor and the rest of the week.
* * * *
Connor searched the online job ads but couldn’t find anything that would pay him anywhere near what he made at the ranch. He rubbed his hand over his face, silently cursing that damn bull that had ended not only his hopes for a national bull-riding title but his career altogether. If he could have gotten that title, more money would have come from being a spokesman for certain brands even after he couldn’t ride anymore. Money he could use to provide for his mother’s care.
Unable to stay inside any longer, he left the small interior of his old RV behind and walked toward the creek that ran at the edge of the campground where he lived. Once there, he picked up a few stones and tossed them absently into the trickling water. What the hell was he going to do? Two jobs were always an option, but the sad fact remained that even that probably wouldn’t bring in the kind of money he was now. Whoring brought in the dough. Always had, always would. But it came at a price. Each time he was with a woman he didn’t care about, didn’t even know, it ate away a little more of his soul.
He thought of Lily and how he didn’t even know what she looked like. He couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than all the others.
There was something about her though, something different. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he’d thought of little else since he’d left her sniffling in her bathroom that morning.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his mental meandering. The ranch’s number showed on the display.
"Hey, Heidi," he said in answer.
"Hey. I just talked to Lily, and she’d like to see you again tonight."
Surprise hit him square in the gut. "Really? I would have bet good money this morning she’d be gone from the ranch before the end of the day."
"She just wants to talk." Heidi paused. "I’m pretty good at picking up things people don’t say. She’s skittish, and I don’t think it’s just because she’s embarrassed. I also think she’s conflicted."
"Conflicted?"
"She didn’t say anything bad about you. In fact, she wanted to make sure that you knew that you’d done nothing wrong. She said it more than once. I think she may have even enjoyed herself as much as she could."
"But something is standing in the way of her truly letting go." He could understand that. He’d never had complaints from any of the women he’d been with, either before his time on the ranch or during, but he’d never given all of himself with any of them either. He’d harbored the crazy idea of finding someone to settle down with, maybe have the type of loving relationship his parents had enjoyed before his father passed away and his mom started her slide into dementia.
Of course that would never happen now. He couldn’t imagine any good woman being okay with what he’d done, no matter the reason.
With a sigh, he ended the call and trudged back to the camper to get ready.
Once he arrived at Lily’s cabin, he sat in his truck for a moment, trying to get himself in the right frame of mind. He noticed movement in the darkness and saw Lily walk out the front door. With a deep breath, he got out of the truck and walked toward the porch.
She was largely hidden in shadow so he couldn’t tell what her facial expression was, how she might be feeling. They stood in silence for a few seconds before they both started to talk at once.
He chuckled a little. "You go first."
"I just wanted you to know that this morning, it was nothing you did. This just...I thought it would be different."
Something in her voice, an audible pain, made him want to take this stranger in his arms and comfort her. "How so?"
She walked toward the edge of the porch and leaned against the support post, her face still in deeper shadow. "I thought the anonymity would make it easier to be with someone, that I could pretend that the real world didn’t exist for a week, leave who I am out there behind and just enjoy an affair with no strings attached." She let out a long sigh. "Turns out it’s not so easy to leave the real me behind."
He glanced toward the dark surface of the lake, visualizing the path that ran around its edge. "Would you like to go for a walk? It’s a nice night."
She hesitated before answering. "It’s so dark, I’ll probably fall and break my neck."
He extended his hand toward her. "I know my way around. I won’t let you fall. And I promise that nothing will happen unless you want it to."
Again, she hesitated. But then she slowly descende
d the steps, and he got the impression she was still debating the wisdom of going off into the night with him. When she reached his side, she didn’t immediately take his hand. He didn’t push her, simply kept his hand extended until she finally placed her much smaller one against his palm. An odd sort of warmth flowed through him as he wrapped his hand around hers and guided her toward the lake.
They walked for a few minutes before she spoke. "How can you see where you’re going?"
"Just used to it. Not exactly a city lights kind of guy."
She looked up toward the expansive sky. "I guess I was used to it when I was a kid. I grew up on a farm, and we’d go out and chase lightning bugs at night in the summer."
"But you don’t live in the country anymore?"
"No."
She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t ask questions he sensed she wouldn’t want to answer. When Lily stopped walking, he stood beside her but didn’t let go of her hand. And a part of him was oddly happy when she didn’t break contact.
"I don’t think I ever realized the sky was this big."
"Yeah. I can remember lying in the back yard with my dad when there were meteor showers, watching them streak across the sky." Connor hadn’t thought about that in ages, and he wasn’t sure why he did now. Was even more surprised that he’d shared it with Lily, but he found he wasn’t sorry.
"Connor?"
"Huh?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?" What had he done to make her ask that question?
"You just seemed to tense up."
"Sorry." He nearly choked on the word. Damn, sometime in the last twenty-four hours, he’d started to fucking unravel.
"He’s gone, isn’t he?" Her voice was soft, understanding, offering to listen without prying. Maybe it was the dark, the anonymity that she’d come here for, but he found he wanted to tell her.
"Yeah."
"I’m sorry. I can’t imagine losing my dad."
"He was a farmer?"
"Still is." She laughed a little, and he liked the sound of it. For some reason, he thought perhaps she didn’t laugh often. It made him feel a kinship with her. Odd how a cloak of darkness could make you feel closer to a person. "I like to tease him about how the chickens and cows are his best friends because he’s willing to get up at the butt crack of dawn to visit them."
Connor smiled. "My dad was an early riser, too. Used to suck when I was a kid, but I ended up being just like him." At least until he’d started working all kinds of odd hours, often into the wee hours of the night. He missed the simplicity of getting up just as dawn was peeking over the horizon, brewing a strong cup of coffee, and going for a leisurely walk while fog still hugged the ground.
"What did he do for a living?"
"He owned and feed and tack store. I worked there until...until I went out on my own." He’d almost mentioned the rodeo, but that seemed a little too personal. "Want to walk some more?"
"Sure."
They passed a few minutes in silence, and they were halfway around the little lake before Connor realized that he didn’t feel any sort of pressure to fill the silence. He glanced at Lily next to him, wondering about the color of her hair, the shade of her eyes, the tone of her skin.
"Can I ask what you do, back in the real world?" he asked, intensely curious about her. When she didn’t immediately respond, he thought maybe he’d crossed a line. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry."
"No, it’s okay. I’m an artist."
"Really? I admire people with artistic ability. Though I will say I draw a mean stick figure."
She laughed. "Maybe you could make that a lucrative second career."
Yeah, if only there was a market for bad art by broken-down cowboys.
He squeezed her hand a little tighter as they finished their circuit of the lake. Suddenly, she yelped when something moved in the shrubs, and she edged closer to Connor. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around her and drew her even closer to his side.
"It’s okay," he said.
"I think I’ve had enough of the outdoors tonight," she said but didn’t move away from him.
He guided her toward the cabin but halted when they reached the bottom of the steps. She looked up at him, and even though he couldn’t make out her facial features, he caught a slight glint in her eyes and imagined he saw a question there.
"Are you coming in?" she asked.
"Do you want me to?"
Though he still couldn’t discern her features, he could tell she was watching him.
"Yeah, I think I do."
With a slight nod she probably couldn’t even see, he followed her into the cabin. Whether this night ended up with them just talking or giving the bed a workout, he suddenly thought he’d be okay with either.
* * * *
CHAPTER FIVE
Once she was back in the dark cabin with Connor, Lily second-guessed the wisdom of inviting him in. What in the world were they going to do in the dark besides have sex?
"How about I order some dinner?" Connor said as he took a few steps toward the phone.
Food, eating. That was good. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Sounds great. Get me whatever you think the chef does best, as long as it’s not sushi."
"Not a fan?"
"Uh, no. As far as I’m concerned, it goes on the end of a hook as bait."
Connor barked out a laugh that had her laughing right along with him. A little more of her tension drifted away.
They made small talk, covering things such as favorite movies, places they’d been, music — she liked indie and he was firmly in the country camp, while they waited for the food delivery. When their dinners arrived, he went to the door to receive it so she didn’t have to. While she watched Connor standing at the door, she realized how relaxed she’d grown while they talked, how easy it was to just hang out with him. And it sort of made her sad that after this week, she’d never talk to him again.
She shook her head as he strode back across the room toward the table. Even in the dark she could tell their food hadn’t arrived in foam take-out containers. Connor’s steak and her grilled chicken pasta sat protected under metal lids like those used for hotel room service. When Connor slid hers in front of her and lifted the lid, the most delicious scent wafted up to her.
"That smells awesome," she said.
"I’ve never heard anyone complain about Andre’s cooking."
"If it tastes half as good as it smells, I can understand why he doesn’t get any complaints."
It was, indeed, every bit as good as it smelled. She got so engrossed in enjoying her meal that she forgot to carry on a conversation, forgot that she should really feel awkward with Connor, especially after what had happened between them the previous night. But, miracle of miracles, she didn’t. He’d erased the awkwardness beginning with a simple bouquet of wildflowers.
"You must be enjoying that food," Connor said, a hint of laughter in his voice.
"You saying I have a healthy appetite?"
"No, I would never say something like that to a woman."
"Smart man." She couldn’t help a little laugh.
They finished the meal in companionable silence before Connor slid the dishes to the opposite end of the table and leaned back in his chair.
"You said you were an artist," he said. "What kind?"
"I’m a painter. Mainly landscapes but occasionally other things that catch my eye." She thought about the work she’d done that morning, considered whether she wanted to tell him about it. But before she could, he stood and walked across the living area.
In the next moment, music filled the cabin and Connor walked back toward her. "May I have this dance?"
She eyed his outstretched hand, a darker shadow in the surrounding ambient light from the stars outside. After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted her hand and placed it in his. She tried to identify the singer of the country ballad as Connor led her toward the middle of the living area, but she had no idea who it was or even the name
of the song. Not that it mattered the moment Connor pulled her into his arms and began to gently sway.
Lily’s heart leapt as she thought this romantic moment was what she’d come to Nevada to find. In Connor’s arms, dancing to a love song, she could pretend she was a beautiful princess and him her dashing prince.
"I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer," he said, his breath lifting a few sprigs of her hair at her temple.
"You’re doing fine. I haven’t danced in a long time anyway."
"Not much of a dancer either?"
"I used to be." Now why had she said that? She let out a sigh and shook her head.
"Are you okay?
"Yeah. It’s just..." She sighed again. "My life is just a lot different than it used to be."
"I know how that feels." She’d expected questions, not commiseration. But now she wondered what type of curveball had hit Connor.
"I guess life rarely plugs along without any speed bumps." Not that she’d call being brutally attacked a speed bump, but she knew if she didn’t try to get on with her life, if she focused too much on what Matthew Macon had done to her, she’d sink right back into the cowering ball of fear he’d left in his wake.
"I suppose." Something about the way he said those two words told Lily that his speed bump might more resemble a mountain, too. And she got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about his any more than she wanted to delve into hers. Instead, he pulled her closer, and she let him.
Remembering again why she’d come to Pleasure Ridge, she leaned her cheek again his chest and closed her eyes. As they swayed and circled to the music, she soaked in Connor’s warmth and inhaled his manly scent of the outdoors and simple soap. She liked that he didn’t smell like the men’s fragrance counter at a department store.
When he moved his hand on her back, splaying his fingers, her breath caught. Even though she’d said she wasn’t made for having casual sex with a stranger, that’s exactly where her thoughts went. To what they’d done the night before, how it had made her feel before she’d let herself think too much. How she wanted to feel that way again.