A Real Cowboy Knows How to Kiss

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Then you, my dear, have led a deprived life in which you’ve been surrounded by idiots.” He levered himself off the doorframe and strode across the small office toward her. She couldn’t help the shiver of anticipation as he walked around the desk toward her. He plucked the pen out of her hand, clasped her wrist, and pulled her to her feet with just enough force to send her tumbling against his chest.

  Then he wrapped his arm around her waist, locking her against him, and kissed her. She should have been accustomed to being kissed by him, but even after several days of constant attention, she still felt her heart leap every time his mouth descended upon hers. Sometimes his kiss was gentle. Sometimes it was demanding and rough. Sometimes it was flirty and mischievous. And other times, like this, it was a sensual kiss that promised an eternity.

  This was her favorite kiss.

  With a sigh of pure contentment, she draped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, kissing him back, thoroughly enjoying the prickle of his whiskers against her face, and the feel of his lips against hers. He was pure, dangerous seduction, and she’d never felt so alive.

  Just as the kiss began to change into something that was going to lead to naked-office-time, he pulled back, but he didn’t release her. “That’s for later. Right now, I want to take you out.”

  She lightly grasped the front of his shirt and tugged him gently. “You don’t need to court me, Steen. I know you don’t have any money, and I’m a sure thing tonight anyway.”

  Darkness flickered in his eyes, but it wasn’t seduction. It was anger, and she realized she shouldn’t have mentioned the money. “I can afford to take you to dinner,” he said, his voice on edge. “I’m not that pathetic.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  He shoved the flowers in her hand. “I’ll be outside if you want to come. If you don’t, that’s fine.” He turned and walked out without another word, leaving her holding the most beautiful flowers she’d ever received…well, the only flowers she’d ever received from a man, standing there in her dirty jeans, muddy hiking boots, and “didn’t bother to shower this morning” hair.

  She should have known better than to bring up the finances. No man wanted to feel like he couldn’t support a woman. Dammit. Frustrated, she grabbed her purse and followed him out of the building.

  He was leaning against the front fender of one of the ranch’s pickup trucks, his arms folded over his chest. His hat was tipped low over his forehead, but she felt his gaze the moment she stepped outside.

  After locking the door, she walked over to him and stopped just in front of him.

  He didn’t move.

  She sighed and flicked his hat back so she could see his face. “Stop it.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Stop what?”

  “Being a shit.”

  His eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. “Did you just swear at me? You never curse.”

  “I reserve them for appropriate moments, like this one.” She set her hands on her hips. “Listen, Steen. I get that you have baggage. Between your mom ditching you, your loser dad, and your lack of bond with your brothers, I understand you have no comprehension of how much you have to offer. I realize the impact that a prison record could have on your future. I understand all that, but I’ll be honest, at some point, you have to get over it. Move on.” She held out her arms and gestured at herself. “Look at what’s right in front of you, and appreciate it, because before you know it, it will be gone.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, and then sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For being a shit.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “You’re right. I know you better than that, and I know that you didn’t mean it as an insult when you questioned my ability to pay for dinner. Just because I expect to be judged by people in general doesn’t make it fair that I reacted that way to you.” He held out his hand. “May I have a second chance, fair maiden? I’d like to take you out on the town tonight, on my dime, of which I am sure I can scrape up a sufficient number to pay for dinner, and I promise I won’t take offense at any prison jokes you might make. Deal?”

  Her irritation fled, and she shook his hand. “Deal.”

  He grinned. “Then we have a date.”

  A date. Her first official date with Steen, more than a decade since she’d first seen him.

  Hot damn.

  ***

  Steen really didn’t care about the menu. He’d barely glanced at the wine list before ordering one. And he hadn’t even bothered to try the bread that the waiter had left on the table.

  It was all about Erin tonight. That was it. Just Erin. She was the only thing he wanted to notice, the only thing he could notice. She simply outshone every other damn thing in existence.

  Her eyes were sparkling, and she was sexy as hell in her jeans and tee shirt. She’d complained about going to dinner in her work clothes, but he hadn’t let her go home to change. He preferred her this way: natural, casual, and happy. Plus, he’d been half-afraid she’d change her mind about going out if she got home. Another part of him had also been concerned that she might put on some fancy outfit for dinner, reminding them both that she was out of his league. As a rural vet in her jeans and tee shirt, she was accessible, vulnerable, and reachable. She was a real person, and he was able to simply be with her. He knew, however, that simple and casual weren’t her real life, and if she got dressed up, it would be a constant reminder that she belonged somewhere else. Yeah, he knew she did, but tonight, he wanted it to be just about them. Besides, he liked her this way. He’d told her she looked beautiful exactly as she was and he’d meant every word of it.

  The last four days of making love to her in his bunkhouse every night had been incredible. He couldn’t believe how responsive she was to him, how completely she trusted him. It was surreal and amazing. He knew that this time with her would somehow sustain him for the rest of his life when the reality of his existence descended after her departure.

  He knew she would have been perfectly fine with another night over the grill behind the bunkhouse, but he wanted more for her. He wanted her to know what it felt like to be taken out for a nice dinner. He wanted her to know that he was proud to be with her. It was important to him that she understand that, so he’d made the decision to venture out into town for the first time since his release from prison.

  He’d chosen a classy restaurant in the adjoining town, hoping that he wouldn’t run into anyone who would know him and where he’d been for four years. In the town where he’d once been a superstar, the big man on campus, he now wanted nothing more than to be anonymous, so he could treat Erin to the night she deserved. He wanted her to enjoy herself, not be burdened by the history of the man she was with.

  Steen was aware the place wasn’t as fancy as she was used to, but it was about as high class as he was going to find in the area. The wine glasses looked appropriately sparkly. He figured the white tablecloths were up to standard, and even he had to admit the candlelight was romantic. He didn’t consider himself a romantic. As a general rule, he saw candles as potential fire hazards and a waste of a good flame, but for the first time in his life, they made him think of the softness of her skin, and the way her hair felt beneath his fingers.

  Erin leaned back in her chair, surveying the small restaurant. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

  He shrugged as the waiter approached with their wine. “It’s what you deserve. I want you to know that I’m proud to be with you.”

  She grinned at him, and leaned forward, her fingers brushing against his in a public display of affection that made something inside him shift. She wasn’t afraid to acknowledge she was with him. He’d half-thought she wouldn’t want to be seen in public with an ex-con, but not only had she agreed to come to dinner, but she was touching him. The thought shook him to his core as he looked down at her fingers tapping the back of his hand.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m having a great time.”

  He con
sidered moving his hand away for her own protection, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead, he flipped his hand over and wrapped his fingers around hers. “You’re welcome.” He grinned at her, and she smiled back, an intimate exchange that was only about them, and their connection. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Erin—”

  “Steen Stockton? Is that you?”

  Steen’s entire body tensed as his name was called from across the room, and he quickly pulled his hand away from Erin’s. He saw the look of surprise on her face, but he didn’t have time to apologize as he turned toward the door. When he saw the man striding toward him, his gut dropped down to his boots. Shit. He was sunk.

  Swearing under his breath, he rose to his feet and shook hands with Walt Parker, one of the Rogue Valley High School alums who had funded much of the football team’s expenses when Steen had been playing for them. He knew Walt well, or he had, back before his life had imploded.

  Walt thudded his hand on Steen’s shoulder, then pulled back to inspect him. The older man’s face was leathery from years in the sun, but he was as fit and lean as ever, easily recognizable as the man who’d held the passing record at the school for a decade until Steen had broken it. “Good to see you, Steen. It’s been too long.”

  Steen glanced at Erin, who was watching with interest. “Um, yeah, I’ve been busy.” He wasn’t sure whether Walt knew what had happened with Rachel. God help him, he didn’t want Erin to endure the stigma he’d carry for the rest of his life.

  “You come by to see the display, in honor of the school’s fiftieth anniversary?” Walt asked.

  Steen frowned. “What display?”

  “You didn’t recognize the table by the front door when you came in? Or the chair you’re sitting in?” Walt’s eyebrows shot up. “Or the buffet where the wine display is set up?”

  Steen’s gaze shot to the chair that his hand was still on. He recognized the design immediately. He glanced at the wine display, and remembered all too well the hours he’d spent in that crappy basement carving the table by hand. It looked good, weathered properly. Behind him, was the dining room table he’d made to seat all his brothers after their dad had busted up their table in one of his rages. All his work, furniture he’d labored over as a teenager, back when spending hours building furniture had been his only respite from the life that stalked him. “Where did you get those?”

  “Your stuff is all over the area. I buy ‘em up when I see ‘em.” He grinned. “I have to support my fellow ball players, right, my man?” He pointed to a painting by the front door. “That’s from Don Simms, a wide receiver who was a few years ahead of you.” He winked. “Between you and me, he wasn’t all that talented, but he’s one of us, so his stuff hangs.”

  Steen frowned, still trying to process what he’d inadvertently stumbled into, an apparent shrine to his high school football team. “You own this place? What about the winery you were running?”

  “I still own it, but I decided I wanted to teach people about the beauty of pairing fine wine with good food.” Walt grinned. “Tonight’s dinner is on me.” He bowed at Erin. “Any woman accompanying a former RVHS football player dines on the house. Welcome, my dear. My treat tonight.” He shook Steen’s hand again and then headed off to another table, waxing poetically about the wine.

  Steen sat back down to find Erin staring at him. “You build furniture?”

  “I used to. I built furniture for my mom and me because we couldn’t afford to buy it. I liked doing it, and so I built some stuff to sell.” He scowled, staring at his wine, irritated that he’d managed to choose the only restaurant in the area where he would know the damned owner. At the same time, he felt an immense sense of relief that his past hadn’t come up, though now that he’d been identified, it was possible that his veil of invisibility could slide off at any moment. “Once my mom left me with my dad, I kept building stuff, trying to save enough money so when she came back for me, I could take care of her. In the end, the old man found my stash of cash when I was at a game and he used it on a prostitute—”

  He paused when Erin got up and walked away from the table toward the buffet behind him.

  He twisted around to watch as she approached the buffet, tensing as she crouched beside it and ran her hand down the leg. He remembered the mistake he’d made on that one, taking a divot out of the inside. It figured that would be the one she’d choose to inspect.

  She spent several minutes at the buffet, then walked over to the table by the door. Steen shifted restlessly, uncomfortably with her close inspections, but at the same time, he was sort of…well…he wasn’t sure what he thought of her interest.

  After a few minutes, she came and sat back down across from him. She folded her arms over her chest and studied him.

  He waited.

  She didn’t say anything.

  Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well?”

  “You have a gift.”

  Stupidly, he felt like grinning. He knew that the furniture was decent. It was the only thing besides football and horses that he was any good at, and her response felt really good. But he simply shrugged, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s been a long time.”

  “It’s not furniture. It’s art.” She leaned forward. “What other art have you done?”

  He shifted. “Nothing.”

  “Do you draw? Paint? Make mosaics out of horse manure?”

  He grinned that time. “No, just the furniture, but if I can’t find a job, I’ll be sure and consider the horse manure as a possible career choice.”

  She didn’t smile. “I’m serious, Steen. Do you like making furniture?”

  He shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just did it. Like I said, it’s been a long time.” He picked up his glass, letting the red wine glisten beneath the dim lights. “Tonight is about you, not furniture. I raise my glass to the most incredible woman I’ve ever met in my life, whose soul lights my way and has since the day I first saw her.”

  Erin’s face softened, and she smiled. “That’s beautiful. Thank you.” She grinned at him, her eyes teasing. “But I know you’re avoiding the topic. Why don’t you want to talk about the furniture?”

  He put the glass down. “Because it’s from a long time ago. I can’t make a living at it, and I can’t take it with me when I move on.”

  “Move on?” She frowned. “To where? You’ve decided not to stay at the ranch?”

  “I don’t belong there. I never did.”

  She leaned forward. “Do you want to stay?”

  He met her gaze, and suddenly, he wanted to say yes. He wanted to stay with her on that damned ranch and do nothing else but lose himself in her for the rest of his life. But that wasn’t reality. Making love to her all day wouldn’t feed them or give them a life. And he wasn’t going to live off the pity of half-brothers who didn’t need his shit. “I need to go. I don’t belong there.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he put his hand over hers. “I don’t want to talk about it, Erin. I just want this to be about you.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re being a toad.”

  He grinned. “A toad? Really? How’s that?”

  “I’m a woman. I don’t like to be ignored when I have something to say.”

  He sighed and leaned back in his seat. The last thing he wanted to do was disempower her. Shit. He didn’t know how to do this supportive guy thing. “Okay, talk.”

  Her faced softened. “Really?”

  The vulnerability in her expression severed the last bit of resistance he had. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Erin, listen to me. Yeah, I don’t want to talk about my relationship with my half-brothers, or my life. I’m a mess. I get that. There’s no way to fix it or to change what my life has been, or to erase all the black marks on my past. I think you’re the kindest, most optimistic woman on the face of the planet because you actually care enough to want to fix it. It matters to me what you think. If you have something you want to say,
then I’ll sit here and listen to every word until you’re finished.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “You don’t have to be defined by your past,” she finally said.

  He sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to take his thinly veiled suggestion to talk about sunsets and nakedness instead of his life. “I agree. It doesn’t define me, but at the same time, it’s a part of who I am.”

  She cocked her head, studying him. “You don’t want to be here, do you?”

  He frowned. “Of course I do. I want to take you to a nice dinner.”

  “But not here.” She gestured at the tablecloth. “This isn’t your kind of place, is it?”

  Well, there was no way to deny that truth, so he shrugged one shoulder. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  “Which I appreciate very much.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Here’s the thing, Steen. I haven’t thought of you every day for the last decade because you’re the kind of guy who will take me out for dinner at a restaurant with linen napkins. The man who matters to me is the one who grew up dirt poor and came to school with holes in his jeans. He’s the one who was willing to fight the bullies and get black eyes if he had to. The man who would work all day under the broiling sun to help a horse.” She leaned forward. “I came back here to get away from white tablecloths, Steen. That’s not what I want. I want you, exactly the way you are. So, if tonight was about you, where would we be eating? Where would the real Steen choose for his first night out in four years?”

  Heat seemed to pour through him at her words. For a moment, he could only stare at her as her words tumbled through him, igniting a fire that seemed to burn right through his belly. She was absolutely right. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be somewhere where the very pulse of life beat through him and called to him. For four years, he’d lived in a world that left his soul silent and empty. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He wanted to be alive.