“Most beautiful piece of land in Wyoming,” she agreed. But she didn’t move.
Ian needed a shower and a hot meal and a bed. Hell, even a couch would do. Three nights and a solid day in a truck was more than enough for him. He wanted to give her all the space she needed, but a man had to eat. “You got anything resembling dinner in the house?”
She crossed her arms under her chest. At some point, she’d started wearing a bra again, which was a crying shame as far as he was concerned. Her breasts were lush and full and his hands itched to feel their soft weight again.
He cleared his throat and turned to face the low ranch house. Food. That was the only thing he was hungry for. Really.
“Come on.” She got the trailer uncoupled from the truck so quickly that Ian didn’t even have the chance to offer to help, much less crank the jack for her. He grinned, this time not even bothering to hide it. She was, hands down, the most stubborn woman he knew.
They drove back to the house and parked in a lean-to shed behind it. Ian grabbed both their bags while she unlocked the house and turned on the lights.
The house had a late-sixties feel. There wasn’t anything fancy about it—this was not one of the grand old ranch mansions from the late 1880s, when cattle barons ruled the West. But the place was clean and well-cared for, and the kitchen had stainless steel appliances that looked newer than Ian’s truck.
“Nice place,” he offered into the silence. “You grew up here?”
“Yup,” she replied. Back to the single syllables, he noted with a smile.
“Where should I put the bags?” Which was the least suggestive way of asking where he was sleeping tonight that he could come up with. He held up both duffels.
“This way.” She led him through the living room, which featured a huge sectional sofa in a deep blue fabric that faced one of the bigger televisions Ian had ever seen.
“That screen is huge,” he noted, because it seemed like something someone would be proud of.
“My dad really liked watching movies after we got our work done,” she said as she led him down a long hallway.
They went past a closed door. “What’s in there?”
She pulled up and he saw the tension ripple across her shoulders. “My dad’s office.” Her voice was tight and clipped. “It’s...off-limits.”
“Fine with me,” he replied, trying to sound casual even as he stared at the back of her head. Something was definitely off.
“My parents’ room,” she went on, opening the next door. “You can put your things here.”
Ah. Well. He walked into the room, which was surprisingly pink? A deep rose carpet was on the floor and a blue bedspread with pink flowers was over the bed. The rest of the room was less surprising. The walls were light blue, the furniture—including the massive king-size bed—was oak and the view was of the still-orange mountains. Another decent-sized television was mounted over a fireplace.
The room didn’t look as if it had been touched much in the past eight months. Ian would be willing to bet that, if he opened a dresser drawer, it’d still have socks in it.
“Bathroom is through that door,” Lacy said, pointing on the other side of the fireplace. “I, uh, haven’t gotten around to cleaning things out.” She said it as if it was something to be ashamed of.
“No worries. After three days in the truck, this looks like the lap of luxury.” He wasn’t lying, either. The bed looked good. “You have work for me to do tomorrow, right?”
“We have work to do. You sure you’re okay with that?” She looked around at the pink carpet. “With this?”
With me. She didn’t say it out loud, but she didn’t have to.
A new thought occurred to him. What if she wasn’t being distant because she wasn’t interested? What if she was just unsure?
Maybe he hadn’t given her enough to think about, what with him being the gentleman here.
Only one way to find out. “I am.” He held out her bag to her. When she took it, he added, “I’m going to shower before dinner.”
Her eyes widened as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll—uh—”
He pulled his shirt out from his waistband and yanked it and the undershirt over his head.
She hadn’t moved. Her jaw was open as she gaped at his chest. Ian fought the urge to flex. Instead, he started unbuckling his belt and turned his back on her. “See you in a few,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked into the bathroom.
Let her think on that.
* * *
LACY STOOD IN the kitchen, frying pork chops without really being aware of what she was doing. All she could think about was the casual way Ian had started undressing in front of her.
Good heavens, she was in so much trouble.
The old Lacy would leave Ian in his bedroom and keep to hers. The old Lacy wouldn’t have brought Ian home at all. The old Lacy would have never let Ian hold her while she slept or touch her while she was awake.
She realized she was staring at the office door. What was left of the old Lacy was hanging by the thinnest of threads, and the thing that would snap that thread was in there, less than twenty feet away from where she stood.
The old Lacy wouldn’t. But the new Lacy? Well, she was still figuring that woman out.
She shifted from foot to foot. That heavy feeling between her legs was building again, had been building ever since Ian popped the first button on his shirt. It was an unavoidable fact on top of other unavoidable facts.
She wanted him. And if he wanted her back...
The bedroom door opened and Ian strode out. Her breath caught in her throat as he walked toward her. Oh, God. He looked good. Better than good. His hair was still damp and he wasn’t wearing socks or boots. He had on a regular gray T-shirt. He didn’t look like a cowboy right now. Somehow, that made a huge difference.
“Looks great,” he said in appreciation as he stood next to her. “Thanks for cooking.” Then, as if it was no big deal, he draped his arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She looked up at him in a state of shock. “There’s, uh, beer and soda in the fridge and some lemonade...”
“Lemonade sounds good,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving up into a smile. He pulled her hat from her head. “You don’t wear this in the house, do you?”
“No.” She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t pull away from him. Her body? It wanted his.
She wanted him.
He brushed his fingertips over her forehead, pushing a freed curl away from her eyes. His fingers stayed on her skin, curving over her cheekbone and along her chin.
Her eyelids fluttered at his touch and she thought, Kiss me.
Ian stepped away. “Lemonade?”
“Yeah. No.” What was she doing? Hell, she didn’t even know. “Wait.”
Which, to his credit, he did. “Yes?”
“What are we doing here?”
“Having dinner?” He sounded confused, but he had a curious grin on his face.
“You know what I mean.” Don’t make me tell you, she silently prayed. She was pretty sure she didn’t have a hope in hell of saying the words out loud.
“Having dinner,” he repeated with more certainty. But as he said it, he stepped back into her and cupped her face in his palms. “After that, you’re going to take a hot shower.” His lips touched her forehead before they drifted down to her temple. She closed her eyes and let herself savor his touch. Dinner would be good, a hot shower would be great. Especially if... “And then we’re going to go to bed.”
She swallowed and forced herself to look at him. “Alone?”
The look in his eyes made her shiver. “I’m not going to guess at what goes on inside your pretty head, babe. I got the feeling you’d reconsidered the benefits
part of our friends-with-benefits arrangement. But if that’s not the case...”
Hot embarrassment burned her cheeks. “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted, you know—me. After I yelled at you in front of your friends. I can be a real bitch sometimes. Most of the time, actually.” She couldn’t look at him and talk. He was so perfect and she was just so...Lacy. So she dropped her gaze.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a fierce hug. “You were well within your rights to put me in my place. I wasn’t trying to step on your toes.”
Wait—was he apologizing? He was, wasn’t he? Well, that was unexpected.
He sighed and she wanted to sink into the warmth of his chest and just be. She didn’t want to think about what people might say or what was in the office or how badly she’d burned dinner. She wanted to be in the moment with Ian.
He stroked her hair and she realized she desperately needed a shower before he began to stroke anything else. “I’ve got this powerful urge to take care of you,” he went on. “There’s something about you—you’re tough and prickly, but you’re also delicate and vulnerable and beautiful.”
The embarrassment was bleeding over into disbelief. Was he trying to feed her lines? “I’m not, you know. Pretty, that is. Never have been, never will be.”
He lifted her chin and looked her square in the eyes. “Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”
Her pulse was racing as he stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. “And then, I couldn’t—in the truck. If someone had seen us...”
He touched his forehead to hers. “We’re not in the truck anymore.”
She blushed again. She must look like an overripe tomato at this point. “I’m really bad at this. I didn’t think you still wanted me.”
“Don’t apologize. But be honest about what you want, Lacy.”
Honest? About what she wanted? She barely knew what she wanted—much less how to put it into words. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“It’s not that hard, babe. This is me being honest with you. I want you. I have from the very first moment you threatened me about a bull. You spark something in me, and it kills me to pretend that you’re one of the guys. You are anything but that.” His lips touched her temple again and moved over her cheek. “You’re everything but that,” he breathed against her skin.
He wanted her. God, wasn’t that something? She’d never been wanted before. It was stunning how different those words made her feel. She desperately wanted to believe them. “Really?”
“Really.” He shifted and let his lips move over her other temple. “Same rules as before. You want me, you have to tell me. Otherwise, I’m just here to help out a friend. So tell me what you want, Lacy.”
“You.” Her heart was pounding so fast she felt faint. She was doing this, really doing this. She turned into him, felt his breath on her lips. “I want you.”
There. She’d said it—out loud, even.
A ghost of a kiss pressed on her lips and he said, “Shower. Now.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WHAT?”
“You owe me one,” he said with a sly grin. “So I’m cashing it in. Shower.” He began to march her back down the hall. “Dinner will reheat. Which bathroom do you use?”
“I have one in my room...”
He kept his hands on her shoulders. “Go.”
She led the way back through her room, with the impossibly tiny-looking double bed. Her collection of Breyer model horses lined the top of her dresser and her ribbons for riding and shooting looked faded and dusty. She was almost embarrassed by the girlishness of her room, but all Ian said was, “I like it,” low and close in her ear. “Shower?”
She nodded and led on, past the bed with the red comforter and the heart pillows her mom had made for her ninth birthday and past the bookshelf where the Little House on the Prairie books she’d read with her mom were neatly organized.
Her bathroom was tucked into the back, behind her closet. She had a bathtub and a single sink. She tried not to think about when she’d last cleaned the sink.
Ian pulled her up short and turned her in his arms. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, and she wished she could sound more confident or sexier.
He began to pop the buttons on her shirt. Lacy stood there in a state of confusion. He was undressing her, which was both sexy and unnerving. She focused on taking deep breaths and trying to think back to the way he’d made her feel in the truck. Sexy. Desirable.
He got the shirt unbuttoned and pushed it down over her shoulders. Then he pulled her white tank top off, going slowly so her ribs wouldn’t pull. He traced the edges of fabric down between her breasts. “When did you get the bra back on?”
“Two days ago. In the ladies’ room at the arena.” Which was why the shower was a good idea. She hadn’t had one since that afternoon in Ian’s hotel room.
“Damn, babe,” he murmured, spreading his fingers wide and cupping her breasts. “I’ve been dreaming of what you looked like.” His hands slid around her back and easily unhooked it.
The bra fell away and except for her jeans, she was bare before him. “Oh, Lacy,” he murmured. “Wow.”
This was really happening, wasn’t it? Then his thumbs flicked over her nipples and a shiver went through her, electric and hot. Oh, yes. Yes it was. Finally, she wasn’t the odd girl out, the one too butch or too bitchy to get a boyfriend.
Except, of course, that Ian wasn’t her boyfriend. This was no-strings-attached.
It was better that way, she decided as he leaned down and kissed the top of her right breast. She could enjoy herself and not worry about what came next.
She arched her back, lifting her breasts up to his touch. But he stepped away. “Hot shower,” he said in a no-arguments voice.
She winced. “Do I reek that bad?”
He laughed as if she’d told a joke. “Hell, no,” he said as he stepped around her and cranked on the water. “But you’re nervous and you’re already sore. This will help your muscles loosen up.”
Embarrassment flamed at her cheeks again. “You make it sound like we’re going to be doing acrobatic things.”
He didn’t respond immediately as he adjusted the water. Then he turned back to her. The look in his eyes sent another shiver through her.
“Take your jeans off,” he ordered as he leaned against the bathroom wall.
“What are you going to do?”
“Watch.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
She could not tell the difference between panic and excitement. The two emotions bled into each other, swirling around until there was no way to tell where one feeling started and the other left off.
Steam filled the bathroom as she undid her zipper and pushed her jeans down her hips. She kicked out of the pants and socks, which left her in nothing but a pair of simple blue cotton panties. She wished she had something sexier—that she’d prepared better.
She forced herself to look at Ian. A muscle in his jaw twitched and even to a novice like herself there was no mistaking it—he was barely holding himself back.
“Take off your panties,” he said through clenched teeth.
So she did. She slid them down her hips and legs and tossed them to the side with the rest of her clothing.
As Ian’s gaze burned into her skin, he let out a low groan. She dropped her gaze to his jeans. Yes, she did that to him. The realization gave her a certain amount of confidence. She might not know exactly how to seduce a man, but she could have that kind of effect on Ian.
The heavy weight between her legs began to throb with need. She needed him to touch her as he had before, needed to feel him inside of her. This time, there wouldn’t be any interruptions.
“Get in the shower,” he ordered her.
Her uncertainty got the better of her. “What about you?”
“I’ll join you in a few minutes. I have to go get my towels.”
“Oh.” Him—and her—in the shower? Together? Her blood pounded in her ears—and in other parts.
Something that was far too sensual to be called a grin curved his lips. “You’re cute when you’re surprised.”
She stepped over the rim of the tub and let the hot water run over her chest as he stared. “Damn,” he said again. “I’ll be right back.” Then he pulled the curtain shut with more force than was necessary and was gone.
Lacy didn’t waste a second. She quickly shaved her armpits and ran the razor over her legs. Before she could attack her bikini line, however, Ian said, “I’m coming in,” and the curtain was pushed aside.
She couldn’t look. Not yet, anyway. So she closed her eyes and listened.
She heard Ian step into the tub and the rasp of the curtain as it was pulled shut. The water sounded quieter, probably because his big body was taking up more space.
“Have you ever done this before?” he asked seconds before his hands touched her shoulders. She jumped.
She wasn’t sure which “this” he was asking about—the sex, or the showering with someone else. Didn’t really matter. The answer was the same. “No.”
“Hmm.” His hands skimmed down her arms and settled around her waist. She felt something warm and hard nudge against her hip. She almost reached over and touched him, but didn’t. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She didn’t even have to think about that question. She’d trusted him enough to sleep in his arms for two nights in the truck, to take her back to a hotel room when she was wounded and vulnerable. She trusted him enough to bring him to the Straight Arrow. This—being here in the shower with him—wasn’t much different.
“Then look at me, babe.” He cupped her face in his hands and lifted her chin so she couldn’t possibly look at anything but his face. The water streamed through her hair.
He was right there, close enough to kiss. “You are so beautiful, you know—and don’t you dare tell me you’re not,” he added when she opened her mouth.
Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set Page 42