The Camden Cowboy

by Victoria Pade

  Chapter Ten

  After the most amazing night Seth had ever had with anyone, he spent the next five days as nothing more than an unhappy spectator in Lacey’s overworked week.

  They’d had all of Sunday night together. When the power and air-conditioning had come back on they’d moved into his bedroom where they’d made love, slept, made love, slept, made love again. And again on Monday morning, when Lacey had been no more eager than he had been to leave his bed and rejoin the world.

  But since then Seth had been relegated to watching her from the main house.

  He saw her leave each morning when he was barely rolling out of bed at dawn. And despite the fact that he’d waited up and watched for her to come home each and every night, there had been another night like the one the week before when she hadn’t made it home at all, and on the other three nights she’d dragged herself back so late and looking so tired that he’d thought the kindest thing he could do was just keep his distance and let her get to bed. Alone.

  Twice he’d thought there was a chance to spend some time with her when her assistant had called to arrange for him to go to the construction site for a meeting about the road she wanted to put through his property.

  Both times he’d imagined getting her alone for an hour, maybe sneaking up to the old house’s attic.

  But her assistant had called to reschedule the first appointment, and when he’d arrived at the site for the second one her assistant had apologized but said that Lacey had had to rush out to the scene of an accident that had caused an injury to one of her crew, canceling that meeting before it could happen, too.

  What it all added up to, he told himself on Friday night as he showered after his own day’s work, was to more and more proof of why he should just write this whole thing off. Why he should resist his attraction to her. It was evidence right there in front of him of just how driven she was, of what was most important to her, of how obsessed she was.

  Just the way his own father had been.

  Just the way Charlotte had been.

  Work, work, work. First. Foremost. Forever.

  And even worse with Lacey was the fact that for her it wasn’t only about the work or the drive to succeed, the way it had been for Charlotte. For Lacey there was that personal element, that determination she had to prove something to her father. To compete with her brothers for Morgan Kincaid’s respect.

  So if he had any brains at all, Seth told himself, he would just forget about Lacey and get on with things the way they’d been before he’d ever set eyes on her.

  But the truth was, he wanted her, and he wanted her bad.

  He ached for her. He burned for her. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop reliving in his mind their night together. He couldn’t stop plotting and planning and trying to figure out a way to have some time with her—hell, he’d lost hours and hours of sleep this week just to catch a glimpse of her out his window when she was coming or going.

  And none of that had been true with Charlotte.

  He’d been crazy about Charlotte. He had. But somehow his feelings for her hadn’t had the same kind of intensity as the ones he had for Lacey. Maybe that was why things with Charlotte hadn’t really popped when he’d first met her in Denver. Why it had been so easy for him to keep it strictly business until later, when she’d come here.

  But with Lacey? Things had popped the day they’d first met, from the minute he’d seen her walking across that open field in her high heels.

  Finished rinsing away the soap and shampoo, he turned off the spray of water, closed his eyes, hung his head and shook it in disbelief of himself, of what he was thinking, feeling.

  He couldn’t stop wanting her. Craving just a glance from those beautiful green eyes. The touch of her hand. The silkiness of her hair falling across his skin.

  He couldn’t stop the images of them sharing a future together. The images of her sharing his bed every night. Waking up with him every morning. Having his kids. Spending the rest of their lives together.

  Opening his eyes again, he reached for the towel slung over the shower door and began to dry off, wondering as he did what the hell was wrong with him. Telling himself to just let everything with Lacey go. To get over her before it went any further.

  But the first thing he did when he finally stepped out of the shower stall and opened the bathroom window to let the steam out was crane around to catch the sliver of a view he got of the guesthouse to see if she might have gotten home while he’d been showering.

  No, no lights.

  Of course not, he thought. It was only a little past nine. And so what if it was Friday night? To someone like Lacey, Friday was just another workday; it wasn’t the end of the week. She was probably planning to work Saturday and Sunday, too. He probably wouldn’t be able to get any time with her then, either.

  Just give it up….

  Except that even as he dispensed that bit of advice to himself, he knew he couldn’t. Last weekend had hooked him.

  Because last weekend had been great. Even before they’d ended up making love in the pool. And it was the ways that Lacey was unlike Charlotte that had really sucked him in.

  Because unlike Charlotte, Lacey could—and had—left work behind completely once she’d had her mornings to accomplish something. She could—and had—slowed down and enjoyed things besides work. And when she did, when she had, he’d lost sight of the workaholic in her, lost sight of everything but her. And then he’d fallen for her.

  So why, if she could do it last weekend, couldn’t she do it on a regular basis? he thought.

  After all, Charlotte couldn’t—or wouldn’t—have done last weekend the way Lacey had. If he was remembering right, his father wouldn’t have, either. His father would have worked, too, and left Seth’s mother to spend time with the kids.

  But now Seth knew that there was a part of Lacey that wasn’t a workaholic. Now he knew that she could be persuaded to set work aside. And that once she had, she could enjoy not working.

  And as long as that part of her existed, couldn’t he keep tapping into it?

  Not without some effort, he knew.

  But when the effort paid off it was so worth it, that maybe he was willing to keep doing whatever it took.

  It wouldn’t be easy under the overriding shadow of her father and that determination she had to prove herself. To have a position with the family business that was as important as his sons had held. But easy didn’t matter as much to him as having Lacey did, he realized.

  It also didn’t help that he’d already relegated himself to some kind of nonentity because he wasn’t a huge football fan, or that Lacey could be relegated to that same nonentity status if she was with him.

  So what if he became a football fan? he asked himself, still trying to fix things so he could have her.

  He knew the game. The teams. Enough about the major players. A little more in-depth reading of the sports page, a little studying up on the subject, a little updating himself on Morgan Kincaid’s contribution, stats, history, and he’d be able to hold his own with the former football star.

  That was something small that he was willing to do if it meant he wouldn’t be a detriment to Lacey. If it meant that she could feel better about being with him.

  And it wasn’t something she’d asked of him—that occurred to him as he shaved. That he’d come up with it on his own was important.

  Because also unlike Charlotte, Lacey didn’t want him to be something he wasn’t. She didn’t want to change him. She didn’t disapprove of him or think she should turn him into another version of her. So doing something like showing more interest in football for her sake—when it was his own decision, when it wasn’t a demand she was making of him, when it didn’t entail changing who he was—was no big deal.

  But really, w
asn’t that how he was leaning all the way around? If they each could just bend a little—if Lacey could just back off of work slightly, if he could show more of an interest in the sport that drove her family, then couldn’t they meet in the middle and have something together?

  Maybe he was kidding himself, but in that moment when all he wanted was to find any way to be with her, to have her, when he wanted to see her, to hear her voice, to touch her and kiss her and take her in his arms so much it had him tied in knots, he thought they could.

  And he knew he had to at least talk to her about it. Give it his best shot.

  Because he wanted her too much not to.

  And nothing he did, nothing he told himself, nothing at all, could shut that feeling down.

  * * *

  “Dad, are you hearing what you’re saying?” Lacey couldn’t believe she was sitting at her desk at ten on Friday night having this phone call with her father. “I’ve just told you that we made up half the work that didn’t get done last week and that by the end of next week we will have made up the rest. That means that at the end of week three, we will be where we’re scheduled to be even though we lost all of week one. And you’re still not happy?”

  “Ahead of schedule! What have I always said? Just being good enough isn’t good enough! Under budget and ahead of schedule—that’s what you should be shooting for.”

  “Well, it helps the budget that we’re getting three weeks’ worth of work done in two weeks—without paying overtime. Right now that’s all I can tell you.” And she’d foolishly thought that that might please him, which was why she’d called to report to him.

  “Don’t you go paying overtime without getting my okay!”

  “We aren’t paying overtime, Dad—that’s what I said. You’ve already made your position clear on the subject—it isn’t something I’ve forgotten.” And oh boy, was she sorry she’d called him. “I won’t keep you,” she said then, to at least cut short her mistake. “I just thought I’d give you an update. I’ll talk to you next week.”

  “Did you get that road worked out with Camden?” her father demanded instead of letting her off the phone.

  Camden.

  Seth.

  Just his name sent a wave of longing through her.

  “We haven’t worked out the details yet. I tried to do that twice this last week but couldn’t get to it. Maybe this weekend…”

  “Don’t tell me you’re taking this weekend off to spend with him! If I can’t get things done because you’re being googly-eyed over some man—”

  “I’m not taking this weekend off. And if I talk to Seth about the road, that’s work, isn’t it? It’s what you just told me to get done.” It was time to end this call before her father could tear into her any more. “It’s late so I’m going to let you go. If anything happens with the road I’ll call.”

  “Don’t you let him pull any Camden shenanigans on us, little girl,” her father said suspiciously.

  “I won’t,” she assured him, rather than saying anything else that might prolong this. “Good night, Dad.”

  Her father finally said good-night, and Lacey got to hang up.

  Then she let her head drop to her desk.

  Would her father ever think she was good enough? Would any job she did meet his standards? She knew how hard he’d always been on Ian and Hutch, but somehow it seemed like he was being even more unreasonable with her.

  Naturally she knew he would say that she thought he was being more unreasonable because—like all women—she was overly sensitive and couldn’t take what a man could take…

  She drew in a deep breath and sighed it out. Then she sat up again, intending to get back to work.

  Which was when she thought she might be hallucinating. Looking through the archway that connected her dining-room office with the old house’s living room and out the picture window, she thought she saw Seth’s truck coming down the road.

  She blinked and kept watching, trying not to get too excited, telling herself that it could be any one of a dozen people who drove to work out there every day in white trucks.

  Except that no one would be coming back to work now.

  The truck pulled up to the front of the house, and she could see Seth behind the wheel. That first sight of him wiped away her exhaustion.

  Cowboy boots, jeans, a cream-colored dress shirt—that’s what she saw him wearing as he got out of the truck once he’d stopped the engine.

  Nothing and no one had ever looked so good to her.

  Too good for her to care why he might be there or that her own tan twill slacks and red crewneck T-shirt were hardly alluring, or that her ponytail could have become lopsided during her long, long day.

  The only thing that registered was that Seth was on his way up the porch steps.

  Lacey stood and went around her desk, calling “Come in!” in answer to his knock on the front door. It was only when she met him in the entryway that it finally struck her that regardless of how intimate they’d been when she’d left him on Monday morning, she hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of him since then and maybe she should curb the inclination to throw herself into his arms.

  As if she needed something to anchor her to keep from doing that, she wrapped a nonchalant elbow around the newel post at the foot of the stairs to the second floor and said, “This is a surprise.”

  Seth didn’t even say hello. He merely crossed the entry and did what she’d had in mind—he took her by the shoulders, pulled her to him and kissed her as if nothing had separated last weekend and now. Deeply, intensely, profoundly, soundly, thoroughly, he kissed her. And while Lacey attempted to keep up and give as good as she got, some of that kiss just swept her off her feet, leaving her slightly light-headed when he ended it, let go of her and took half a step backward.

  Luckily Lacey still had hold of the newel post to keep herself on her feet.

  “That was some kind of hello,” she said with a laugh.

  “It barely scratches the surface,” he countered in a voice that was lower than usual, that seemed to mean business—although Lacey wasn’t sure why that thought occurred to her.

  “I’ve been watching you coming and going all week—when you actually did come and go,” he said.

  “Tuesday night I fell asleep at my desk again. It’s still been crazy, but I gained a little ground to make up for our slow start, so—”

  “Do not say it was worth it,” he warned.

  “I was going to say so that was good.”

  “That was the only good thing about this week, then,” he muttered, then said, “That’s why I’m here—I want to do something about it.”

  Lacey was confused, and it must have shown in her expression because he went on before she’d said anything, telling her about how he’d hoped each and every night that she might get home early enough to spend some time with him, how he’d hoped every morning that she might hang around long enough to come and have breakfast with him, how he’d even fantasized about the meetings she’d missed turning into more than business meetings.

  “And after all that, I started out tonight telling myself to forget it,” he said. “To forget last weekend. To forget any hope that we might have any portion of that again. To forget you.”

  Lacey was still glad to be holding the newel post because she’d begun to wonder if he’d come here to end whatever it was that was going on between them. And even though she didn’t fully understand it, she was struck hard by that thought. Hard enough to need some support to go on facing him if that was what she was in store for.

  “So what was that entrance you just made—one last kiss to say goodbye?” she asked, hating that her voice sounded so apprehensive.

  He shook his head. “I just wanted you to remember what things are like between us before I say what I came to say.”
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  Things between them were amazing. Remarkable. Incredible. She’d missed him and wanted him so much this past week that it had been awful never even seeing him. She’d relived every moment of their weekend together, of their night of lovemaking a million times in her mind. She’d wanted nothing more than to get home earlier each night and maybe spend it with him. She’d looked over at the main house on her way out every morning, tempted to delay her day, to have even a few minutes with him.

  So the kiss had been great, but she hadn’t needed it or anything else to remind her of this man.

  “What did you come to say?” she asked hesitantly, worrying that he wanted her to know what she’d be missing when he told her they were through.

  “That even though I told myself to forget you, I came out on the other end of that—not only can’t I forget you, I think we have something, Lacey. Something I want. Something that I’m willing to work on to have.”

  “I’m not sure what that means—”

  “I’ll tell you what it means.”

  He did just that, telling her how much he’d missed her and wanted her. How much he wanted her to be a part of his life—not merely a passing-through part, but a very real, very permanent part. The primary part. He went on to say words that she began to hang on because the picture he painted of them together, of a future together, was so appealing.

  “I’ll even become the biggest football fan of them all,” he said as he drew to a close. “In a room full of football players and fanatics, I’ll make sure I’m the one your father wants to talk football with. I guarantee that I won’t drag you down. I’ll be your greatest asset, not the drawback that other guy was. All I want is for you to meet me halfway.”

  “I’ll never get my father to tone down the football stuff even halfway, if that’s what you mean. Football is what runs in his veins.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I want you to meet me halfway by putting some limits on the work you do so your hours are reasonable and we can be together.”

  “Put some limits on work?” she repeated with a facetious sort of chuckle. “Do you think I wouldn’t have done that already if I could have? I’m putting in the hours I need to put in to get the jobs done—for the training center and the sportswear line. As it is, I’m barely keeping up. Doing the smallest amount less would put me behind.”