by Alison Bliss
But that didn’t deter him. He moved his lips slowly against mine, patiently awaiting my response. And he got one. Within seconds, my passive lips became soft and pliant against his as our mouths began a seductive dance together. His warmth tempered my body, bringing it to just the right degree, until I melted into him, my fingers gripping his shirt as I kissed him back with no physical hesitation.
Mentally, I was still hesitating, though. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered between kisses.
In answer, his hands moved into my hair, tilting my head slightly to the right, as his breath tickled across my lips. “Open your mouth and shut up,” he murmured, bringing my face back to his.
I did as he asked, and his tongue swept inside, delving deep. My good sense flew out the window. He was warm and tasted like wild honey. The insistent rolling of his tongue against mine excited me more, enticing me to participate. Feeling braver than normal, I ran mine across his bottom lip and gave him a little nip.
He stilled.
At first, I thought I’d done something wrong, but my hand resting on his chest pulsed with the acceleration of his irregular heartbeat. Keeping his lips glued to mine, Cowboy spun me around with dizzying speed and planted me firmly against the door. Before I could say anything, he hungrily kissed me. His enthusiasm grew immensely, radiating off him with each insatiable thrust of his tongue, beckoning me with every curl.
His right hand moved lower, past my hip, and cupped the back of my knee, raising it to his waist. My robe lifted higher and left me feeling a breeze in places that shouldn’t be breezy. I arched my hips forward to keep my balance, and the large bulge in his jeans rubbed against the thin fabric of my cotton panties. The delicious friction shot sparks throughout my body, and a purr-like sound rumbled from deep within my throat.
His warm fingers found their way to the back of my thigh, stroking and kneading, as he moved higher and higher. He used the position we were in as leverage to access an intimate part of me and easily slipped two fingers under my panties.
I was long gone. He could’ve taken me against the door with the neighbors watching for all I cared. But as Cowboy’s fingers met damp flesh, he hesitated, then tore himself away from me completely. I could see in his lustful eyes it had taken everything he had to do so.
“One taste,” he said, panting heavily. “That’s all I meant to take.”
Flustered, I swayed unsteadily as my breath synched to his. I had never felt so alive. “I…I’m discombobulated.”
He released a shaky breath and squinted at me in confusion. “You’re what?”
“Discombobulated.”
Cowboy frowned with disapproval. “What the hell does that mean?” He stared at me intently, his gaze penetrating me so deep that my thighs trembled.
“It means…” That’s when my sanity came back full force, and I realized what exactly I would have let him do to me against the door. Correction: what I wanted him to do to me against the door. No matter how good it had felt, I couldn’t believe how out of control I’d let things get. “It means you have to leave,” I said with exasperation.
“What? Why? Because you say weird shit and expect me to know what it means?”
“No, I just…need you to go,” I told him, pushing him steadily out the door. Before I lost my godforsaken mind. Again.
He let me shove him out onto the porch, but he turned and grasped the doorjamb with both hands and leaned toward me with a smirk. “Discombobulated, huh? That’s not one of those sex change operations or something, is it?”
Oh, Lord.
Without another word, I shut the door in his face.
Chapter Seven
From the shadows of the living room window, I watched as Cowboy strolled out to his truck, climbed inside, and drove away. My fingers feathered across my lips, still numb from the searing kiss we’d shared minutes before. A moment of closeness that had derailed me mentally, as well as physically…and yet, he’d barely even touched me.
But why had he touched me? And more importantly, why had he stopped?
As his taillights faded into the night, I took a ragged breath, closed my eyes, and wished for… What exactly? For him to come back? For him to have never shown up at all? I wasn’t really sure. Or maybe I was and just wasn’t willing to admit it to myself.
Regardless, I couldn’t rationalize my behavior in a logical manner. Not when it had been nothing more than a self-indulgent whim. A fantasy, really. Clearly, the emotional cocktail of fear, need, wanting, and loneliness had played a giant role in me making such a poor, thoughtless decision.
I released the curtain, letting it fall back in place over the window as I plopped down on the couch and folded my legs under me. A frustrated breath escaped my lips. What the hell was I thinking, allowing him to kiss me, to touch me? It was Cowboy, damn it. I knew better than that.
Sure, ten years ago, I’d longed for him to notice me and look at me the way he did other girls. But he hadn’t, and with good reason. I wasn’t like those other girls. And now he’d undoubtedly seen that for himself.
Obviously, it had been a bad idea from the start, even if I’d seen some hidden layers to Cowboy, which made it harder to dismiss the strong, irrefutable attraction I felt toward him.
But that was one slippery slope I wasn’t willing to climb. He may have kissed me senseless once, but if I had any brain cells left, I’d stay as far away from him as possible.
Then I sighed. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he’d left. Oh, hell. Who was I kidding? I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since camp ten years ago.
In an effort to shake all lustful thoughts of Cowboy from my mind, I busied myself by cleaning up the kitchen. But as I picked up the teacup from the table, I remembered how tiny it had looked in his large, masculine hands. The same hands he’d gripped my thighs with as he… Holy hell. What was the matter with me?
Figuring I needed a change of scenery to clear my mind, I strolled back to the living room, where I dusted and rearranged my bookshelves. I thought it was working until I caught myself organizing the titles by which male on the cover looked most like Cowboy. Damn him and his perfectly handsome, stupid face.
I needed to find something to keep me from thinking about that man. If it was even possible.
Frustrated, I planted myself at the computer desk and pushed the button to make the monitor light up. Unsure as to what I was doing, I cleared my mind and typed the first name I thought of into a search engine and hit enter. Thousands of returns popped onto the screen for Ned Swanson.
At the very least, it would definitely keep me busy. And help Cowboy in the process. Though he didn’t seem to be the type to ask for help. But research was my thing. I worked in a library for goodness sakes. If I couldn’t find the chief’s brother for…a certain person—one who would remain nameless—then no one could.
It wasn’t going to be an easy feat, that was for sure. But as I sat there clicking and typing my way into an oblivious stupor, my mind settled and focused on the task at hand.
Hours later, I lifted my head off the desk and rubbed my eyes. I must’ve dozed off because it was suddenly three o’clock in the morning. I hadn’t found Ned Swanson, but I had some good leads to follow up on.
I turned off the computer screen and was heading to the bedroom when a clanging noise echoed outside my kitchen window. Raccoons were always trying to get into my trash cans, so I opened the front door, flipped on the flood lights, and stepped out onto the porch, hoping to scare them away.
But what I saw had the opposite effect.
A shadowy figure—a man, judging by the height and bulk—stood within the trees at the edge of my property, staring back at me. Frozen in place, I blinked rapidly as a chill ran up my stiffened spine. It was too dark to make out all of his facial features, but his intense eyes shone bright from the glow of the floodlights, much like a wild animal. No sooner had I laid eyes on him than the man took a large step backward
and melted into the darkness.
I strained to search for movement among the woody area while listening for the sounds of snapping twigs or rustling bushes. But there was nothing, no evidence of anyone having been there. It all happened so fast, though. Had I imagined the whole thing?
Still, I stepped back inside, locked the door behind me, and picked up the cordless phone from its cradle. But who would I call? The sheriff? Cowboy? And what if I had imagined the whole thing? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen something that wasn’t really there. Almost nightly I had dreams that made no sense.
But this wasn’t a dream and that wasn’t something I wanted others to know about me. Not the police and especially not Cowboy. Besides, it could easily have been any one of my very few neighbors out on a stroll…on my property…through the woods…at three o’clock in the morning. I sighed and reluctantly set the phone back down. I’d be up all night thinking about a man, all right. Just not the one I had originally thought.
The following day seemed to drag on forever. I left work and headed home, planning to take a very long, well-deserved nap. As expected, the man in the shadows had plagued my thoughts all night, leaving me with an uncomfortable somebody’s-watching-you feeling.
Even now, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. It had actually kept me from thinking about Cowboy, which would’ve been a welcome relief if it hadn’t been so damn creepy.
Before leaving for work, I’d walked the edge of the woods, looking for footprints or some evidence to suggest the visitor had been real. But I found nothing. Based on that alone, I decided that the whole thing had been nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination.
I parked in my driveway and walked down to the mailbox before strolling inside. I tossed the mail on the kitchen counter, causing it to fan out as I kicked off my shoes. A small envelope with my name handwritten on the outside in big letters caught my eye.
Shifting the other mail aside, I picked up the envelope and flipped it over, searching for a return address. There wasn’t one. No stamp, either, which meant that someone had placed it in my mailbox, rather than mailing it.
I opened it carefully, pulled out a small note card that had been tucked inside, and read the message. As my eyes scanned the words, I gasped and a twinge of dread ran through me. My thoughts went directly back to the supposedly non-existent shadowy man standing outside my home the night before.
Then I realized something.
I shook my head and almost laughed aloud at myself. With the messy scrawl and misspelled words, it didn’t take a genius to figure out who wrote the note. After all, no one else would say, “Play with fire and your gonna get burnt,” except for the two idiots next door.
It all made perfect sense.
Last night, I must’ve caught one of the Barlow brothers in the act of delivering the note to my mailbox. They probably hoped I’d get the ominous note today and storm over to their house so they could torture me with more of their idle threats.
But I wasn’t going to play into their hands and give them the reaction they wanted. I’d just ignore it. And them.
Those two boys were known bullies who got their thrills by intimidating and terrorizing others, but they were also cowards, which made it difficult for me to believe I was in any real danger.
At least as far as the Barlows were concerned.
Almost a week later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Bobbie Jo’s tan Ford truck as she drove. She glanced at me warily. “You sounded a little upset on the phone. Is everything okay?”
I shrugged lightly. “I had a bad morning, that’s all.”
And that was the truth.
The note I’d found in my mailbox earlier that morning had irritated me, though it was only one of several I’d received over the past week. The Barlow brothers hadn’t improved with their spelling any, but the lame threatening notes were starting to get on my nerves. I had a good mind to march next door, give them an ass-kicking, and possibly a lesson in good grammar.
Nor had Cowboy come back after kissing me almost a week ago. Of course, that may have had something to do with me throwing him out of my house afterward and slamming the door in his face. But still…
I wondered if my blatant sexual inexperience had shone through the moment our lips touched. Maybe that was why the persistent playboy hadn’t returned. I mean, I’d kissed a guy before. Just not one who made me feel the way Cowboy did. Like I would willingly tear off my clothes and let him caress me any way he wanted.
And the thought terrified me. Because once I told him the whole truth about me, he’d hightail it. Never to be seen or heard from again. Though seeing how he’d disappeared already, I couldn’t figure out how things would be much different than they were.
It was probably for the best. If I was smart, I’d take a lesson out of Cowboy’s dating playbook by moving on and putting the whole experience behind me. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. Cowboy had already dropped off the book I’d loaned him in the outdoor return bin and hadn’t been back to the library, either.
Another reason for my foul mood.
I’d told him that was exactly what I’d wanted. But if that were true, then why did my chest ache? And how come every time I thought about Cowboy’s body pressing mine against that door, my knees went weak?
Damn it. I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Want to talk about it?” Bobbie Jo asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Nothing to talk about. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” she asked, turning left into a driveway marked by a large wooden sign with faded black letters that read “Miller’s Bird Farm.”
I plastered on the most genuine smile I could fake. “Yep. I’m great.”
Bobbie Jo parked her pickup on a concrete slab in front of a large white house and shut off the engine. “Good. Then let’s go inside so I can introduce you to the girls.”
I opened my door and slid out of the truck as the distant sounds of birds, squawking and chirping, drifted to my ears. As I maneuvered around the front of the vehicle, I spotted a small flock of white and gray guinea fowl running loose nearby. Ignoring me, they scratched at the ground in search of insects.
“You’ll love Floss,” Bobbie Jo said, bringing my attention back to her. “She’s the sweetest thing ever. And Emily…well, she’ll grow on you,” she said with a laugh.
I laughed, remembering the story she’d told me about how Emily and Jake had gotten together. Emily had entered Witness Protection, and Jake had been the FBI agent in charge of protecting her. Unofficially at that. While none of that was remotely funny, the wild shenanigans Emily had put Jake through were.
“I guess Emily’s not causing any more problems for Jake now that they’re married and have a baby,” I said, stepping up beside her.
“Are you kidding? That girl is a handful. Lucky for her, Jake loves every minute of it…when she’s not frustrating him to the point of throwing things.”
One of my eyebrows rose involuntarily. “Isn’t he a little too old to be pitching fits?”
Bobbie Jo smiled, then turned toward the back passenger door of the truck. “Jake wants Emily to behave herself, but that’s like asking the sun not to rise.” Her hand stilled over the door handle for a moment, then she shook her head and frowned. “He’s a man, Anna. They all throw tantrums when they don’t get what they want.” She swung open the door to retrieve Austin from the backseat.
By the sound of her strained voice, I gathered she must’ve had another run-in with Jeremy. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly, returning the favor.
“And ruin our good time?” Bobbie Jo snorted. “Definitely not.”
I waited patiently as she pulled the baby from his car seat and shouldered his diaper bag. She’d dressed him casually in a simple, orange-striped onesie with matching socks and a thin blanket wrapped around him. It was a warm day, but the cool breeze kept it from being too hot.
“After we go see wha
t the women are up to, we’ll check on my boys and see what trouble they’re getting into. They’re helping Hank over in the pasture today.”
Her boys? As in plural? Oh, no.
I glanced out into the field and caught sight of a group of men standing on the other side of the barbed wire fence in the back pasture. My gaze landed squarely on Cowboy as he stood from a crouched position and stretched his arms above his head, elongating his tall, muscular frame. The white T-shirt he wore lifted a few inches above his belt buckle, allowing me a glimpse of his well-defined, perfectly sculpted abs.
Oh, dear God. I wish I’d known he’d be here.
I wanted to appear nonchalant, but at the mere sight of him, my body betrayed me. Anticipation zinged through my veins. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I managed to swallow the knot in my throat, although as much as I was salivating, I wasn’t sure how it was possible to feel so parched.
Then I noticed my nipples straining against my white cotton dress. One look at Cowboy and he was already screwing with my hormones again.
Bobbie Jo looked up as I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered. She quirked an eyebrow. “It’s almost ninety degrees out here, Anna. Don’t tell me you’re cold.”
“Um, a little?” My reply sounded like a question.
She reached into the backseat of her truck and pulled out a blue jean jacket, tossing it to me. “Here you go. Put this on.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping the jacket on and cuffing the sleeves up to my elbows.
I was going to burn in hell for lying to my friend. Didn’t matter, though. It was the equivalent to wearing a jacket in ninety-degree Texas heat, anyway.
“Hey, fellas,” Bobbie Jo yelled out, waving at the men.
Cowboy turned his head toward us, did a double take, then a stoic expression crossed his face as he looked away. I was pretty sure I even saw his lips move inaudibly with something that very closely resembled “sonofabitch.” I guess his interest level had cooled considerably since our last encounter.
Unfortunately, I’d seen this sudden change in attitude and behavior before in other men. And it always happened after each of them had witnessed one thing in particular: my scars. Which was going to make this fun get-together a complete and utter disaster.