“I’ve never seen anyone talk to their plants.”
“It’s good for them. They need the carbon dioxide from our breath. I think she likes it where you put her. Lots of ambient light.” She replaced Florence on the coffee table. “Ready.”
“Then let’s do it.” He plucked his hat from a coat tree by the door and ushered her out on the porch. “We should have time to take that ride this morning after we clean the stalls.” He closed the door behind them.
“To clarify, you’re talking about a horseback ride, right?” She glanced over her shoulder.
“I was.” Grasping her arm, he turned her around and pulled her close. “Until you said that. Is there something you’d rather do?”
“Yes, and I’ll bet it’s the same thing you’d rather do.”
“Then let’s forget about the horseback ride.” He cupped her bottom, kneading with his fingers. “We can ride horses when my mom’s here.”
“Whatcha got in mind?” She pressed closer, the hard ridge behind his fly a potent reminder of the hours they’d spent pleasuring each other.
“Don’t know if you remember, but cleaning stalls is sweaty work.”
Her heart raced. “I seem to recall that.”
“What else do you remember?”
“Sweaty sex on a bed of straw when we finished.”
“Haven’t been able to make myself put a horse in that stall since that day.”
“Same straw?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I refreshed it.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Did you tuck a condom into that little space between the boards like you did before?”
“I might have.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Why even bring up the horseback ride?”
“Because last night you said that would be nice and for all I know, making love on a bed of straw in the barn wasn’t as much fun for you as it was for me.”
“It was big fun for me. I’d never done anything like that. The scent of straw turns me on, now.”
“It does?”
“That’s why I couldn’t keep my hands to myself after we were done feeding. And why I made sure I was never alone with you in the barn during the lessons over at the Buckskin. I was afraid I’d tackle you.”
He grinned. “I had no idea. Then you’re good with this plan?”
“I am.”
“Listen, if straw affects you like an aphrodisiac, maybe you should skip the feeding. Either that or we should cancel breakfast with Ed.”
“No worries. I’m a lot less frustrated than when I arrived. And I’m way less frustrated than I’ve been all summer. I can control myself long enough to deliver a few hay flakes and some oats.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Especially if I have something to look forward to.”
Chapter Thirteen
Straw. A secret he might never have discovered about Val if he hadn’t cooked up this fake fiancée caper.
He didn’t take her hand as they headed over to the barn in the soft light of dawn. “When my mom arrives, I’ll need to hold your hand when we’re walking somewhere together.”
“Or we could stick our hands in each other’s back jeans pocket.”
“Let’s not.”
She chuckled. “That wouldn’t work for you?”
“It’s too dangerous. No telling how I’d react if you’re cupping my ass for any length of time. Or I’m cupping yours, for that matter.”
“Okay, no ass-grabbing. What do you think we should call each other?”
“How about Teague and Val?”
“I don’t know if just using our plain old names will convince your mom we’re engaged. We might need to come up with cutesy nicknames.”
“Like what?”
“I could call you the Teague-man.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Teague-a-roony?”
He sighed. “Having fun?”
“Yes, I am. I’ve never been pseudo-engaged before. Might as well make the most of it.”
“I think we can skip the cutesy nicknames, if it’s all the same to you, Val-a-rini.” He slid back the double barn doors.
She laughed. “That’s not bad.”
“It’s terrible. Valerie is a beautiful name and Val is easy on the tongue, but—”
“Easy on the tongue? Which part of me is the easiest, would you say?”
“All of you, devil woman. All of you.” He motioned her inside. “Payback time. Breathe deep. Lots of straw in here.”
“I can take it.” She marched inside and made for the tack room. “I’ll fetch our gloves, unless you have a special pair.”
“They’re all the same. Just bring two pairs, please.” He lengthened his stride, determined to get his hands on the wheelbarrow in the back of the barn before his libido sent him into the tack room so he could get his hands on Val. Now that she’d revealed her vulnerability to the aroma of straw, she was even more tempting.
The last stall on the left held the stash of hay flakes and he directed his energy toward loading the wheelbarrow. Val came toward him with his gloves and his movements slowed. Damn, she was gorgeous.
“How come you didn’t wait for me to bring your gloves?” She handed them to him.
“Eager to get started, I guess.”
“I see that look in your eye, cowboy. We’re not doing what you’re thinking about. We’re saving it for after we muck out the stalls later. Think about something else.”
“Turns out I can’t. Remember which stall it was?”
“The one right across from you.” She pointed to it. “It’s not only straw that affects me. I could smell the hay flakes, too. The combination inspired me to give you that special treat yesterday.”
He groaned. “Grab a hay flake, please, before I lose my cool and grab you.”
“Sure, okay. I’ll start with Sir Eatsalot.”
“Good choice.”
He worked fast, which meant he’d delivered to everybody on his side before she was done. “I’ll get the oats while you finish up.”
“In a hurry, cowboy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her soft laughter ramped up his tension another notch. She could seduce him without even trying. A look, a sigh, a knowing grin and he was off to the races. No other woman had that effect on him.
By the time he’d passed out oats to those who were scheduled to get them, she’d completed her deliveries. Turning the wheelbarrow around, she rolled it toward the back of the barn. He resisted the impulse to walk in that direction. Sure as the world, he’d kiss her if he got within range.
Then again, she hadn’t put on lipstick this morning, had she? One little kiss wasn’t such a bad idea. His body hummed with anticipation as he tucked his gloves in his back pocket and started down the aisle.
“I hear your purposeful stride.” She leaned the wheelbarrow against the wall, turned around and took off her gloves. “Is there a reason for that?”
“Could be.”
Her eyes glittered. “Changed your mind about when we’ll have our rendezvous in the stall?”
“No, ma’am. I want to take my time, make the most of the experience. We wouldn’t have that luxury if we try to squeeze it in, now.”
“You look like you’re in the mood to squeeze something, though.”
“I am.” Nudging back his hat, he stepped forward and slid his hands around her waist. “Since you’re not wearing lipstick….”
“Your voice is getting all growly.” She dropped her gloves and wound her arms around his neck. “I like it when you sound like that.”
“I like it when you let me kiss you.” Dipping under the brim of her hat, he indulged himself, thrusting his tongue into her sweet mouth. When she whimpered, he cupped her firm bottom and tucked her in close. Ahh. If only… but not now.
She pressed closer and he tightened his grip. God, she turned him on. Her low moan sent the blood pounding through
his veins. Lifting his head, he took a ragged breath. “We have to stop.”
“I know.”
He let her go and backed away, but that stall looked more tempting by the second. “What if I text Ed? I could tell her that we—”
“Please don’t text her. She’d see through any excuse you make and that would embarrass the heck out of me.” She met his gaze. “It’s just that I’ve never felt this sensual, this alive. I wish we could go away somewhere and just….”
“Make love?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that crazy?”
“No.” His chest tightened with regret. If he hadn’t rushed that proposal, they could have spent the entire summer exploring the possibilities. He’d had a shot. They’d had a shot. And he’d blown it. “It’s a wonderful idea.”
“Impractical, though.”
“For now. But—”
“No, it’s impractical, full stop.” She picked up her gloves. “Might as well leave these here. Want to give me yours?”
“Sure.” He pulled them out of his back pocket.
She laid both pairs next to the wheelbarrow. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Heart heavy, he followed her out of the barn.
Chapter Fourteen
Val climbed the hill to Ed’s house walking next to Teague, but not touching him. He’d announced he’d start holding her hand after his mom arrived. She hated to admit that she wanted him to hold her hand now.
What was happening to her? She wasn’t the kind of woman who longed to spend days in a secret hideaway with her lover. She cherished her autonomy, took pleasure in being in control of her own space. She’d worried that moving in with Teague would give her claustrophobia.
Instead she wanted more time with the guy, more cuddling, more touching, more Teague. Sexual satisfaction was part of the appeal, but mostly she craved the joy of being close to him, cocooned in the warmth of his arms. She couldn’t seem to get enough of that.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re just… quiet.”
“I was thinking about this hand-holding business.”
“What about it?”
“We didn’t do much hand-holding in June. I can’t remember your preferred style.”
“There’s a style?”
“At least two I can think of. You can turn your hand sideways and curl your fingers over the back of my hand or you can thread your fingers through my fingers. Which one do you like?”
“Never thought about it. Does it matter?”
“Maybe not, but I’ll bet engaged couples choose one or the other and stick to that style. We should look comfortable with the way we’re doing it.”
He held out his hand. “Let’s try the first one.”
“Okay.” She slipped her hand into his and the knot of tension in her stomach relaxed. “That’s nice.”
“I like it, too, but we need to test ’em both.” Shifting his hand position, he laced his fingers through hers and tightened his grip. “That’s better. More secure.”
“Way better.” Her chest warmed. “The connection is stronger. It’s a subtle difference, but—”
“Not that subtle. This is how I held your hands down when I pushed them against the mattress last night. Shoving my fingers in between yours is a form of penetration.”
She groaned. “You should not have said that.”
His soft chuckle added another layer of sensuality. Lifting their clasped hands, he kissed the tips of her fingers. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”
“But we’re almost there. How am I supposed to—”
“I thought I saw you two coming up the path.” Ed walked out on the porch wearing purple jeans, a yellow shirt and yellow boots. The jeans, the color of a purple popsicle, matched the streaks in her curly white hair.
“Ed, your hair is fabulous!” Just the distraction she needed right now, too.
“Thanks. My partner-in-crime Ellie Mae Horton drove up from Eagles Nest last month and we spent a wild day at the salon.” Her glance lowered to their tightly clasped hands. “Nice touch. You two look extremely engaged.”
Teague smiled. “That’s the idea.”
“Good thing I invited you up here for breakfast. We have things to discuss before Madeline gets here and she’ll arrive in less than an hour.”
“Less than an hour?” Val wished her voice hadn’t squeaked on that last word, but losing the chance to make sweaty love on a bed of straw was a blow.
“She must be putting the pedal to the metal.” Teague squeezed her hand and released it. “What things do we need to discuss?”
“All the stuff you should know about each other and probably haven’t thought to ask.”
“You could be right about that.” Val climbed the steps, Teague close behind her.
“I’m betting I am. Come on in. I made a list.”
Val took her cue from Teague’s and left her hat on a coat tree by the door. Then she followed Ed to a sunny dining room that looked out on a walled garden. The climate-controlled space produced blooms, fruit and veggies from April through October. In the evening, lights glittered in the trees and along the pathways. “Your garden looks as amazing as I remember.”
“The secret is horse poop. Another reason to keep Sir Eatsalot and Herb. I can’t ride them anymore, but they make my garden grow.” She waved Val and Teague toward chairs at one end of the sturdy oak table. “Help yourselves to fruit and coffee. The muffins are fresh out of the oven so eat ’em while they’re warm. I’ll check on our omelets and potatoes.” She whisked through an arched doorway into the kitchen.
“Wow.” Val surveyed the platters of fruit, a stack of mini donuts and a large basket of muffins. “This is shaping up to be as elaborate as the fancy dinner she served us in June. I only see three plates but it looks like she’s expecting more people.”
“When we had more hands on the place, she’d put on a big spread for breakfast every morning.” He helped her into a chair. “She hasn’t quite dialed it back.”
“The hands ate at this table?”
“Every meal. Wranglers came from all over to apply for a job. She treated us like family, celebrated our birthdays and included us when she threw her big parties.”
“Ed’s right about unasked questions. I have no clue how you ended up working here.”
“Just like I don’t know why you chose to teach here.”
“That’s easy. I wanted a small school in cowboy country.”
“And I thought you were attracted to my sparkling personality.”
“That didn’t hurt, but the hat, the boots and the jeans got you in the door.”
He grinned. “How about what’s in the jeans?”
“That’s not so bad, either.” She sighed. “I guess our stall date is cancelled.”
“Afraid so. Maybe we can—”
“Omelets and country fries, anyone?” Ed came in carrying two plates and balancing a third on her arm.
Teague leaped up. “Let me help with that.” He relieved her of two plates and set one in front of Val and the other at his place.
“Thanks for the assist.” She put down the third plate and smiled at Teague as he held her chair. “I decided to serve you myself so my lovely chef won’t be late for her nail appointment. Helps me keep my waitressing skills sharp.”
Teague resumed his seat. “Gonna put in an application at the Moose?”
“Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Do you think Ben would hire me?”
Val laughed. “He’d be crazy not to.”
“I should. It would be a great way to meet men.” She glanced at the table. “I see you two haven’t managed to eat or drink a single thing while I’ve been gone. Teague, I’d appreciate it if you’d pour me some coffee.” She passed over her mug.
“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up the carafe and filled her mug, Val’s and his own.
Ed put her napkin in her lap. “Have some of those cherries, Valerie. They’re incredibl
e. So are the muffins. I like blueberry, but I feel obliged to serve spiced apple ones, too. Dig in, both of you. You’ll need your strength.”
Val managed not to spew her coffee. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Why will I need my strength?”
“To keep up with Madeline. She’s a force of nature.”
Teague laughed, a forkful of omelet halfway to his mouth. “Like you’re not?”
“I have my moments, but she has twenty-five years on me. You should’ve seen me at her age.”
“Wish I had. I’m picturing a force of nature on steroids.” He popped the bite of omelet into his mouth.
“I was.” Mischief flashed in her eyes, making her look years younger. Then she cleared her throat and picked up a notepad beside her plate. “But we’re not here to discuss my past exploits.” She consulted her list. “We’ll start with the most obvious. How you both ended up in Apple Grove.”
Val forked up a bite of country fries. “I’ve covered my part of that, but I don’t know why he’s here.”
“I claim all the credit. I was competing in a barrel racing event in Eugene and this handsome guy had volunteered to help out during the competition. I asked him to come work for me.”
“And everyone said I’d be a fool if I didn’t take her up on it.”
“Luckily, he wasn’t a fool.” She gazed at him and sighed. “Not in that case, anyway.”
He shrugged. “Pobody’s nerfect.”
Val laughed. “What?”
“It’s a sign on Ed’s desk. The first letter of each word—”
“Ah, I get it. Cute.”
“And heartbreakingly true.” Ed studied her list and glanced at Teague. “Have you told her about your father? That’s critical.”
“He hasn’t.” Val took another muffin from the basket and glanced at him. “I was afraid to ask after Jake and Zeke’s dad turned out to be so rotten.”
“Judging from what my mom says, my dad was the opposite of rotten. He died when I was three, so I don’t remember him very well. But she adored that man. Couldn’t find anyone half as good, or so she said.”
He’d grown up without a dad. Would have been nice to know. “Was it tough for you, not having a father around?”
Marriage-Minded Cowboy Page 7