“She won’t show up unannounced.”
“I’m not taking any chances. Do you own pajamas?”
He made a face.
“Oh, now I remember. You’re a sweats and T-shirt guy.”
“That I am, and since we’re dressing for dinner, I’ll put something on.” He crossed to the bureau and automatically opened the top drawer. Sexy panties and bras in neat piles had replaced his folded T-shirts and briefs.
“You’re welcome to anything in there.” Laughter rippled in her voice.
“Not my jam.” He closed the drawer and opened the third one down.
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. I’ve heard of guys getting turned on by wearing—”
“That’s the last thing I need.” He’d had to combine the contents of two drawers into one. He extracted a smooshed shirt and a tightly rolled pair of sweats. “Especially after a certain someone makes opening a champagne bottle an erotic episode.”
“I simply pointed out the obvious. And it’s not just champagne that gets phallic treatment. Boys love shaking a bottle of pop and letting it spew out.”
“I’ll bet girls do, too.” He pulled on his sweats and tied the drawstring.
“Do they really? When was the last time you saw that?”
“Just because I haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.” He shook the wrinkles from his shirt.
“But it’s rare. On the other hand, when a camera crew films a locker room after a football team wins a championship, you’ll always see bottles of stuff spraying everywhere.”
“Well, sure. It’s a fun way to celebrate.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and popped it over his head, tugging it down over his chest. When he looked up, Val was staring at him. “What?”
“It is a fun way to celebrate.” Her gaze warmed. “Maybe shaking a bottle and spraying the contents is what you do when you don’t have the option of wonderful sex.”
Maybe he’d played it a little too cool. “It was great, Val.”
“It felt like a celebration.”
Yes. His brain stalled. Was she getting mushy? If she did, he’d fold like a deck of cards. Dangerous territory, here. He took a quick breath and gave her a big effing smile. “It sure did.” He almost added by golly for good measure.
There. He’d just downplayed a transcendent sexual experience with the woman he loved by treating it like a sports victory. Would she buy it?
“Three times. I still can’t believe it.”
Hm. What they’d shared might be like a sports victory to her if she was keeping score. “Now we know you can.”
“It might’ve been a fluke.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” He wanted to be done with the topic. His goal had been to have her come when he did, to be lost in the glory of it together, their bodies completely in tune. She might have missed all that. And he needed to let it go. “What do you say we order a pizza?”
“Do you have any of that canned chili we ate last time?”
“Yes, ma’am, but we only ate that because we didn’t want to waste time cooking and ordering a pizza meant putting on clothes to answer the door.”
“You just made my case for me.”
“Canned chili and champagne?”
“Why not? Were you planning to have a salad to go with the spaghetti?”
“Already put together. It’s in the fridge.”
“Crackers for the chili?”
“I have some.”
“Sounds like a meal. C’mon.” She tilted her head toward the doorway. “I’ll heat up the chili while you organize everything else.”
“You’ve got a deal.” He followed her out of the bedroom.
They’d had many such moments during their weekend together in June — cozy and domestic exchanges after enjoying a terrific time in the sack. No wonder he’d proposed after only a week.
His steps slowed. Damn, she’d been right about this setup. She’d warned him that living as an engaged couple would put him right back in marriage mode. He’d been convinced it wouldn’t. But he was already there.
“Teague? Are you coming?”
He snapped out of his daze and strolled into the kitchen, a cool dude with nothing but sex on his mind. “Been there, done that.”
“Very funny.” She had two cans of chili, one in each hand. “Feels like a two-can night.”
“It does.”
“Remind me where you keep the can opener.”
“In that drawer.” He pointed to it.
“Oh, right!” She flashed him a grin before turning around and fetching the opener. “You prefer a hand job.”
“And here we go.” He rolled his eyes because she expected him to. “I can’t wait for you to say things like that in front of my mother.” True statement.
“I won’t. I just do it with you because I get such a great reaction.”
“You don’t have to censor yourself unless the girls are around.” He crossed to the refrigerator and took out the salad and the champagne. “If it’s all adults, my mom would get a kick out of your zingers.”
“You know, that’s what I’m afraid of.” She opened the cans and rummaged in the cupboard for a large saucepan.
“Why?”
“What if your mom and I like each other?” She set her chosen pan on the stove, dumped in the chili and turned on the burner.
“I think you will. Seems like a plus.” He grabbed a bottle of dressing. He could make his own, but after the tip from Riley and Claire, he’d toned down his urge to over-deliver.
“You’d think it would be a plus, wouldn’t you? But I’ll like it better if we don’t get along. I won’t feel so guilty about lying to her.” She took a wooden spoon out of a crock on the stove and stirred the chili.
He blew out a breath. “Gotcha. I have guilt pangs, too.”
“What if you leveled with her once she gets here?”
“I can’t risk it.” He got out both salad and soup bowls. “All I’d do is confirm her fear that I’ll die alone.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re a great guy and a talented lover. You have your own house and a steady job. You won’t end up alone.”
“Tell that to my mother. I’m thirty-one. She thinks that’s—”
“Well, thirty-one is old, now that you mention it.” She tapped the spoon on the side of the pan and laid it in the spoon holder. “It’s a miracle you can still perform in the bedroom.”
“And how old are you, smartass?”
“I’m just a kid of twenty-nine.”
“A babe in the woods.” He uncorked the champagne and filled both glasses. “It’s a wonder you put up with an old codger like me.”
“I prefer a man with some experience.”
He carried the glasses to the stove. “You mean one who knows how to open a champagne bottle?” He handed over one of the flutes.
“Well, yes, and…” Heat flickered in her eyes. “I was impressed with that nifty position you used. You’ve never—”
“I was saving it for a special occasion.” He met her gaze and lifted his glass. “To nifty positions.”
“And the thrills they create.” She tapped her flute against his and sipped. “Damn, this is good stuff.”
He swallowed, the fizz dancing on his tongue. “Glad you like it. Ed gave me several bottles.”
“Several? What’s she up to?”
“With Ed, I wouldn’t dare to guess.”
“I would. She likes me and would love to see us become a couple. She figures champagne won’t hurt and might help.”
“That sounds about right.” He took another sip. “I told her how it is.”
“Thanks.” She studied him over the rim of her glass, frowning in concentration.
“I feel like a bug under a microscope.”
She blinked. “Sorry. It’s just that I can’t figure out why you’re still single.”
“Neither can my mom.”
“You’d make someone a terrific husb
and. Apple Grove’s small, but not that small. What’s the stumbling block?”
He shrugged. “Turns out I’m extremely picky.”
“You should be if you’re choosing the person you’ll be with the rest of your life. Have you had any close calls, at least?”
“Besides you?”
“Obviously besides me. I can’t believe I’m the only woman who’s caught your eye in all the years you’ve lived here.”
“Well, there was Millie.”
“Jake’s Millie?”
“Yes, ma’am. Everybody, me included, assumed she was Jake’s girl. Then it looked like she’d given up on him, so I moved in. That was just what Jake needed to lay his claim. I was SOL.”
“I can’t imagine you with Millie.”
“Why not?”
“It’s hard to explain. She’s feisty, and you need someone like that, but… I don’t know. You two don’t quite fit.”
“Obviously, since she married Jake.” Was Val a little jealous? She acted like it. Might be wishful thinking on his part, though.
“I had this fantasy that if all goes well in the next few days, we could keep dating after your mom leaves.”
His chest tightened. “What a coincidence. I have that same fantasy. I wouldn’t ask you to move in. I realize that’s not appealing to you, but maybe you’d be willing to spend the weekend out here sometimes.”
“That would be nice.”
“Great! I’m glad you—”
“And extremely selfish.”
“What?”
“How do you expect to find a wife if I’m monopolizing your free time?”
“Let me worry about that.”
“But will you? My guess is you’ll abandon the search and just have fun dating me.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“There is if you were telling me the truth when you proposed.”
He winced. He’d laid his soul bare that night as he struggled to convince her they were meant for each other. Instead, every heartfelt word had driven another nail into his coffin.
“If you want a family as much as you said you do, then you need to work harder to make that happen.”
“And I will… eventually.”
“Eventually isn’t going to cut it. Women eager for that life are looking for men like you. Who knows how many good prospects will marry someone else while you’re wasting time with me?”
Her logic was flawless. He had no comeback, so he took another gulp of champagne.
“I can tell you don’t want to hear this, but hanging out with me will keep you from reaching your goals.”
He sighed. “You sound like a teacher.”
“Funny thing about that.” Her voice softened. “I care about you, which means I need to get out of your way.”
He panicked. “Not yet, please. If my mom arrives to find me no longer engaged, she’ll—”
“Right, right. I’m talking about what needs to happen after she leaves.”
“You’re depressing the hell out of me.”
“Look, it won’t be like it was back in June. We’ll part friends. No bad feelings, just an understanding that we want different things.”
“So this is our last hurrah?”
She smiled. “Something like that.”
“Then let’s make the most of it.”
Chapter Twelve
Oh, what a night. And oh, how quickly dawn arrived. Val woke to the faint hiss of the shower and the aroma of coffee. A strip of light showed under the closed bathroom door. Teague was likely hoping to slip out and handle the barn chores by himself. Not happening.
Throwing back the covers, she climbed out of bed and stretched. He’d made a playground of her body during the night and she’d returned the favor. They’d tried to sleep, but three months of abstinence had created a powerful hunger. Exhaustion hadn’t claimed them until the wee hours.
She quickly made the bed. When the shower shut off, she walked over and tapped on the bathroom door. “My turn.”
He opened it, a towel draped around his hips and drops of water clinging to his chest hair. She wanted to lick them off.
“I was trying to be quiet.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but I want to help feed and I—”
“Hang on, I have to do this.” He cupped the back of her head and kissed her with infinite tenderness. Then he lifted his head. “Good morning.”
Her heart melted. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Can I talk you into going back to bed?”
“With you?”
“Alone, I’m afraid.”
“Then I’m staying up. I’ve been looking forward to barn chores. All I need is a shower and a cup of that coffee. I’ll be right as rain.”
He opened the door wider and motioned her in. “It’s all yours. If you can make do with coffee for now, we’ll come back and eat breakfast after we’re done.”
“Thanks. I keep meaning to compliment the concierge on the service in this place.” She moved past him into the steamy bathroom.
He smiled. “You had a satisfying evening?”
“Very satisfying.” She looked him up and down. “Something’s moving under your towel.”
“Ah, you know how it is with this guy. Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile.”
“I like that about him.”
His eyes darkened. Reaching for her, he drew her close. His nostrils flared. “You smell delicious.”
“I smell like sex.”
“Exactly.”
“I need a shower.”
His voice dropped to a seductive murmur. “I’d rather give you a tongue bath.”
Her breath caught as her core tightened. One suggestive comment was all it took. “But we have to—”
“Yes, ma’am.” Regret in his gaze, he released her. “Better go take your shower. And close the door.”
“Should I lock it?”
“Do I sound that deranged?”
“Maybe.”
His glance swept over her, lingering on her tight nipples before sliding down to her trembling thighs. With a soft groan, he turned away. “Lock it.”
Heart thundering, she closed the door softly and twisted the lock. Three months ago they’d been eager lovers, but nothing compared to this. The ticking clock could be why.
Would she let him postpone his duties for another round? If he dressed and left the bedroom while she was in the shower, she wouldn’t have to test her resolve. If she came out to find him lying in bed waiting for her….
He wasn’t. The clink of plates and glasses told her he was unloading the dishwasher.
After pulling on underwear and a pair of cotton socks, she dressed in jeans and an old knit shirt. She’d brought some knockabout clothes specifically for working in the barn.
She’d pinned her hair on top of her head for the shower, so all it needed was a good brushing. She tied it back with a thin leather string he’d given her in June to tame her hair during the riding lessons.
It worked better than her scrunchies so she’d kept using it, even after the breakup. But the significance of a string wasn’t lost on her. When this episode was over and she’d sworn off Teague for good, she’d find an alternative hair tie.
She’d been the one to suggest a quick end to this lovely relationship, but starting off the day with that hanging over her head didn’t suit her at all. She’d deal with it when the time came. Until then she’d enjoy Teague’s good loving. Tugging on her boots, she left the bedroom.
He was pouring coffee into a stoneware mug when she walked into the kitchen.
“Is that for me?”
“As a matter of fact.”
“Great timing.”
“I heard your boots hit the floor.” He handed her the mug and picked up his phone.
“Thanks.” She took a sip.
“Ed texted a couple minutes ago. She invited us up to the house for breakfast after we’re done, but she said it wasn’t obligatory.”
“Oh, I think it is.” She cradled the mug in both hands as she sipped. Teague made good love and good coffee.
“Trust me, it’s not a command performance. Ed and I got everything sorted out on Monday night. If she says we don’t have to come, she means it.”
“What exactly did you sort out?”
“Where she stands on this deal.”
“Are you sure she’s not upset with me?”
“Far from it. She’s been an independent woman all her life and she recognizes that you’re cut from the same cloth. After we broke up, she said my timing was atrocious and you were right to call it quits after I showed such bad judgment.”
She flinched. “That must have hurt.”
“It did at the time. I’ve had three months to forgive myself.”
A guy who could accept criticism, learn from it and move on. Appealing. “What did she say about me on Monday night?”
“She thinks you’re a good friend to help me out and she fully expects us to have a hot time while you’re here. If we’d rather go back to bed than have breakfast with her, she won’t be offended.”
Her cheeks warmed. “She said that?”
“Not in so many words, but it was implied.”
“I can’t speak for you, but I’m not cheeky enough to decline Ed’s breakfast invitation so you and I can get it on.”
“I’ll tell her we’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.” He sent the text and glanced at her. “How’re you doing on that coffee?”
She polished it off. “Done.” She crossed to the dishwasher and put her mug inside. “Let’s go.” She headed out of the kitchen.
“Did you bring a hat?”
“I left it in the truck. I can grab it on the way. I— hang on. Can’t leave yet.”
“Why not?”
“I have to water Florence. She’s due. It’ll just take a sec.” She picked up the pot from the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen.
He followed. “Why bring it in here? Why not take a glass of water out there?”
“Because this is better. No danger she’ll sit in old water.” She lifted the plastic pot into the sink, ran water into it and let it drain. “That will take care of her until I leave, although I check on her every day to make sure she’s not too moist or too dry.” She put her back in the ceramic container. “There you go, Florence.”
Marriage-Minded Cowboy Page 6