For Love of a Cowboy

by Yvonne Lindsay - For Love of a Cowboy

  “You’re going to have to be quiet if you want to avoid being arrested,” Booth said against her aching flesh.

  “I’ll do my best,” she whispered, reaching for his shirt and pulling it from the waistband of his jeans.

  In seconds, they were both naked and he was sheathed and positioned at her entrance. He paused a moment to look deep into her eyes before he pushed his length within her. His need for her reflected in his eyes, overwhelming her. She bit down on her lower lip as her body accommodated his every swollen inch—her inner muscles clenching around him, welcoming him.

  He’d barely begun to move before her climax rushed over her and she fixed her mouth to his shoulder, desperate to hold back the scream that threatened to eject from her throat as wave after wave of pleasure racked her body. And then he was with her, his hips jerking in the final throes of orgasm as he, too, reached his peak.

  Booth collapsed against her, groaning as he buried his face in her hair and nuzzled the side of her throat.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”

  “What a way to go,” she replied, tracing her fingertips up and down his spine.

  She felt the rumble of his laughter deep in his chest and realized that while they’d been intimate together, they’d never laughed together before today. Their relationship remained a push-me-pull-you of retreat and advance, with one thing that loomed between them upon which they’d never agree.

  One thing.

  Oh God, she thought, shoving Booth to one side and reaching for her clothes.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing her with satisfied lazy eyes.

  “I’ve got to go, I’ll be late.”

  “Stay,” he asked softly, his hand reaching up to cup her jaw and draw her down to him for a heart-stopping kiss.

  She laughed against his mouth but then an awful thought occurred to her, making her pull away and eye him warily.

  “You didn’t do this on purpose, did you?” she accused, her voice shaking.

  “I beg your pardon?” Booth propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her as if she’d suddenly lost her mind.

  “You did!” She waved a hand to encompass them both. “You did this to stop me from seeing Kyle Donovan. How could you?”

  But she knew exactly how he could and his silence was as damning as the look on his face. Willow shook her head in denial.

  “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low,” she said with loathing. “It was one thing to tell me to stay away, but to use me like that?”

  Booth was pulling on his clothes and stopped in the middle of shrugging back into his shirt. “Seems we were both doing a bit of using. Besides, I told you already. I look after what’s mine,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

  “What’s yours?” She scooted as far away from him as far as the tiny interior of the VW would let her. “What are you saying here?”

  “Kyle Donovan is my uncle.”

  “Your uncle?” Cold water ran through her veins. “Why would you keep that from me?”

  “Because you’re all fired up and set to blow apart my aunt’s world without a thought to anyone but yourself. Have you even stopped to consider what it might be like for her to discover her husband had an affair? That he cheated on her with some free-loving, indiscriminate, sex-mad hippie?”

  Was that what he really thought of her, too? Willow sat back on her heels, stunned by the vitriol in his voice. That she bandied her favors around the place? He clearly thought that of her mother, judging her without ever knowing her—and he had it all wrong. Her mother had loved her father, she knew that from the words her mom had written in her journal, and she wanted to believe her father had loved her mother, too. But had he been a married man? Was he still? Had her mother been just some fling to him, like she obviously was to Booth?

  Willow felt sick to her stomach. Used. Lied to. She pushed past Booth and slid open the VW’s door just in time to fall to her knees and lose her stomach on the hard-packed dirt of the lot. She heard Booth get out the van from behind her, felt his gaze upon her for a moment.

  “Go away and leave me alone,” she ground out between teeth that chattered with shock and a disappointment that went soul deep.

  “Will you be okay?”

  She shook her head. No. She would most definitely not be okay, but she didn’t want him anywhere near her. Not now. Not ever.

  “Like you care. Just go. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

  Something in the tenor of her voice must have sunk in for him because she heard his feet shift, then slowly begin to walk away. Willow staggered to her feet and leaned against the side of her van, tremors beginning to rock her body as tears fought their way to brim in her eyes and track down her cheeks.

  She had to know. She had to find out if what Booth said was true.

  *

  Every step away from Willow went against his instincts. He wanted to pick her up out of the dust and hold her close. He wanted to make everything all right for her. To fix her world back to what she had hoped it could be. But he couldn’t. He’d made his choice—placed his loyalty where his heart was, with the only family he’d ever known. He’d protected the woman who loved him and who had raised him as if he was her own son.

  But what about his feelings for Willow? He had to force himself to admit it—the attraction he felt toward her was more than just sexual. He couldn’t stay away from her if he tried, and Lord knows he’d tried. And now he’d gone and well and truly messed up. He walked across the lot and to the general admissions parking area and found his truck. But it was a long, long time before he put the key in the ignition and started her up. And, as he drove away from the cheerful bright lights and noise of the fairground, he felt as though he was leaving a vitally important piece of himself behind.

  *

  Next day, Booth was hard at work replacing a section of old post and wire fencing with a couple of his ranch hands. In the distance the house and outbuildings looked like toys to his eyes, the road leading from the long driveway a mere ribbon of blacktop as it wound back to 89 and then south toward Marietta. He loved this land—loved everything about it. Sure, it was hard work, but it was satisfying and on a day like today, with the big blue Montana sky stretched above him like a perfect canopy, who would be crazy enough to want to be anywhere else?

  It was heading for lunchtime and they were about done on this stretch when one of the hands drew his attention to a cloud of dust heading along the driveway and toward the ranch house.

  “Looks like the boss is getting a visitor,” he commented.

  Booth lifted his head from the fence wire he’d been tensioning and looked into the distance. Aunt Emmie hadn’t mentioned they were expecting anyone today. He squinted a little against the sun, his eyes focusing on the vehicle responsible for the haze slowly beginning to settle behind it. His gut gave that uncomfortable twist and he muttered a long string of colorful expletives before throwing down his tools and swinging up into the saddle of his horse.

  “Booth, something wrong?” his hand asked, pushing his hat back on his head and eyeing him with a worried frown.

  “Nothing for you to worry about. You guys will have to finish up on your own. I’ll see you back at the house.”

  Without waiting for a response, he wheeled his horse around and urged him down the hill and toward the house. Pegasus was fast, but if he could have sprouted wings and flown it wouldn’t have been fast enough for Booth at this moment. All the way he kept asking himself what he could have done to stop the inevitable showdown that was undoubtedly playing out right now. He just hoped to hell and back that his Aunt Emmie didn’t get wind of it. If she did, everything he’d done would have been an absolute waste. He’d have destroyed his chance of ever finding out if he and Willow could have discovered a future together for nothing.

  Daisy was parked out front of the house by the time he got there. After leaving Pegasus tied to the rail by the stables, Booth barely took the time needed to wipe h
is boots before he strode into the house, his ears cocked for the sound of argument or, worse, weeping. But the house appeared to be silent, tranquil even. He moved through toward his uncle’s office, where Uncle Kyle had been planning to work on budgets today. A murmur of voices came through the heavy wooden door.

  Booth didn’t hesitate or even knock, he barged right in, his eyes searching the room, settling first on his uncle, then his aunt and finally on Willow. She sat in a chair opposite his uncle, who presided in his leather button-back chair behind his desk. Aunt Emmie stood resolutely at his side, one hand on her husband’s shoulder—very clearly presenting a united front.

  “I thought I told you to stay away,” Booth said to Willow. Frustration at not having been able to prevent this oozed from every pore of his body.

  “Booth, it’s okay. Take a seat,” his aunt urged in her quiet voice.

  How could it be okay? But even as he asked himself the question he realized how strong his aunt looked at that moment. She certainly didn’t have the look of a woman about to collapse under the strain of what she’d just heard. In fact, if anything, there was a powerful streak of compassion in her eyes. He turned his attention to his uncle, who looked uncomfortable, yet resolute.

  Then, Booth looked at Willow. Her slender shoulders had slumped forward, and her hands trembled in her lap. She lifted her gaze to his and the emptiness there, as if her last hope on earth had just been wrenched away from her, shocked him to his core.

  She stood, and Booth and his uncle automatically rose with her, then she stumbled to the door. Booth remained paralyzed, rooted where he stood until he heard the seldom-used front door slam and the sound of the VW’s engine starting up.

  “What the hell just happened here?” he asked.

  It was a testament to what they’d been discussing that his uncle didn’t admonish him for swearing in front of a lady.

  “Sit down, Booth,” Emmie told him. “I suppose you know what that was about?”

  “I know she had some idea that Uncle Kyle was her father. I tried to keep her away from here, from both of you.”

  “Why’d you do that?” his uncle asked, a sharp look in his eye.

  “I protect what’s mine. I’m not my father.”

  His uncle nodded quietly in response.

  “It didn’t matter, Kyle isn’t her father. He couldn’t be,” his aunt spoke firmly. “I know most folk around here think the reason we didn’t have babies was because of me, and I was okay with that. The truth is that your uncle is infertile. He had mumps as a teenager and that left him sterile. He couldn’t be Willow’s daddy.”

  Booth looked from his aunt to his uncle, who looked uncomfortable with the truth being laid out there in front of them.

  “It’s true,” he said gruffly. “Besides, I’ve never been unfaithful to your aunt, ever.”

  “Then where did Willow’s mother get your name?” Booth demanded, his head whirling with the facts.

  “We had a casual hand helping out on the ranch at the time,” Emmie said, moving around the desk and settling into the chair Willow had vacated. “We found out later that he’d used Kyle’s name all over the place, not just here in Marietta.”

  “He took a damn stupid risk with that. Everyone here knows you,” Booth interjected.

  “Willow’s mom didn’t,” she pointed out softly.

  And that had left two victims to the guy’s dishonesty. No wonder Willow had looked so shattered. She’d suffered the loss of her mother and now the loss of her father too.

  “D’you know what happened to him? Willow’s dad?”

  His uncle answered him. “After I fired him he picked up and followed the circuit for a while. Stayed well clear of here though. He could be anywhere by now, even dead.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “Naw, just told her he was gone.”

  “I need to go to her.”

  “Give her a little time, Booth,” his aunt counseled. “She’s going to need it. She has a lot to process.”

  Silence fell in the room until Booth heard the creak of his uncle’s chair as he got up and came to stand beside him.

  “She told us that you’d kept her away from the KD. Away from us,” Kyle said slowly.

  “Of course I did. I didn’t want her to hurt Aunt Emmie.”

  His uncle nodded in acknowledgement. “I would never do anything to hurt your aunt, Booth. I hope you understand that now. I’ve loved her from the first moment I laid eyes on her and never even looked at another woman in all this time. And I never plan to.

  “It’s too easy for a man to make the wrong choices—to follow a short skirt or to fall on the wrong side of the law. You found that out for yourself the hard way—thinking with your fists and your temper, like your daddy, instead of with your head while you were growing up. But you’ve changed from that angry man and I appreciate what you’ve done. I’m proud of you, son.” He rested a gnarled hand on Booth’s shoulder. “I know I’ve always been hard on you, but I had good reason. I need an heir I can rely on to take over the ranch when the time comes. I know you’re fixing to buy your own place one day but your aunt and I both hope you’ll change your mind and stay here. We want you to have the KD when the time comes. You earned the right to it these past years.”

  Booth looked to his aunt for verification and she smiled sweetly. “Honey, you gave us a bushel-load of worry when you were a teenager and Kyle was hard on you. He knew the kind of man you could be. The kind of man you are now. We love you, both of us.”

  Booth didn’t quite know what to say. The day had started like any other and had since taken twists and turns he would never have expected. All those years of thinking his uncle barely tolerated him, and now this? And suddenly, he had everything he’d ever dreamed of at his fingertips, whereas Willow had nothing. Hell, she barely even had a roadworthy vehicle. What would she do now, where would she go? He knew one thing for sure, before she had time to leave Marietta they had to clear the air between them. First, though, he had to respond to the undeniably generous offer that had been bestowed upon him.

  He stood and offered his hand to his uncle. “I’d be honored, sir,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

  And when his uncle grasped his hand and pulled him in for a man hug it felt right. The first honest emotion he’d ever experienced between them. And with it, Booth realized he’d been lying to himself about his feeling for Willow Phillips. About the anger he’d projected toward her when all he’d wanted was to hold her in his arms and to make sweet love to her.

  He needed to see her. Needed to tell her the truth of his feelings, to tell her that he’d fallen in love with her and to ask her for a second chance.

  Eleven

  Willow walked in the back entrance of Superstitch’n’s.

  “Good timing, I was just going to put the kettle on to boil,” Ness said, her voice trailing away as she caught sight of Willow. “Good Lord, are you all right? Here, you sit yourself down and I’ll make you a cup of hot tea.”

  She shoved Willow into the nearest seat. A few minutes later a mug of hot tea, laced with milk, and about a pound of sugar from the smell of it, appeared in front of her.

  “Drink,” Ness commanded.

  Willow did as she was told, forcing the hot sweet drink down her throat. Her eyes burned, devoid now of tears. In fact, she wondered if she’d ever cry again. Right now she felt so empty, so adrift. For six months her sole purpose had been to find her father, specifically to find Kyle Donovan. Now she had, and nothing she’d thought was true was real anymore. Her father had been just another loser. A man symbolic of the type her mother had always gravitated to over the years.

  It shouldn’t hurt this much, Willow told herself. It wasn’t as if she knew him, but she’d wanted him to be the man her mother had written about—yet the man was a lie in every way except for the fact that his union with her mother had produced her.

  “You want to talk about it?” Ness said, settling on the
chair on the opposite side of the small table. “I’ve closed the store.”

  Willow looked up. She hadn’t even noticed Ness leaving the room, let alone turning the sign on the front door around and turning out the store’s lights.

  “I don’t know where to start,” she said. Her throat was tight, as if it was constricted by the grief she’d forced back down inside her.

  “How about at the beginning?” Ness prompted.

  Willow started her story, haltingly at first, then with a little more strength as she spoke. It was almost as if she was recounting someone else’s story. As if the journey of the heart that she’d traveled these past six months had happened to a stranger. She skimmed over the encounters with Booth, left out entirely her own burgeoning feelings for the surly cowboy who alternately tried to get her to leave then enticed her to stay with his lovemaking. And she left out altogether the details of being tested for the BRCA gene and the envelope she carried with her daily that had arrived the morning before she’d left for America.

  Her throat felt raw when she stopped talking and, as she looked up and saw the compassion in Ness’s eyes, eyes that were so much like Booth’s, Willow felt as if her heart cracked in two.

  “Oh honey, I’m so sorry for all you’ve gone through. I wish I had known why you’d come here to Marietta. I’d have introduced you to Uncle Kyle and Aunt Emmie, maybe gotten this all over with so you wouldn’t have had your hopes built up so high, just to be dashed like they were.”

  Ness looked pensive for a moment, then reached across the table and grasped Willow’s hands. “Having a father isn’t the be-all and end-all of our existence. You are a strong and beautiful woman. You have a spirit that brings light and love to everyone you meet. Be proud of that. Whether you know your father or not, you are the person you are.”