Her lashes fluttered down, shielding her eyes. “Wyatt, I need to get ready for today.”
“You need to tell me the damn truth.”
As he watched, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. An admission? Or more denial.
This whole situation was baffling. Infuriating. His blood pounded with anger, but something else. Hot need. God, he wanted her.
“You can change your hair, your makeup, and your wardrobe, but you can’t change those big, brown eyes,” he rasped, reaching to tilt her chin up again so she looked at him. “And I didn’t forget them, Sin.”
Panic was in her eyes, but there was also a heated awareness. She lifted a hand and placed it on his chest. There was no force in her touch, she didn’t try and move him away, instead her fingers curled into the fabric.
“I didn’t forget you, Claire.”
“Wyatt, please.” The two words were spoken on a desperate, husky whisper.
Maybe it was a plea for him to shut up or to move back, but he took it another way. A plea for him to act on the electric current of need radiating between them. It was the same one he’d wanted to act on yesterday, but hadn’t.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he dipped his head and claimed her lips with his. Her soft cry opened her mouth to him, and he slid his tongue in to taste her.
And it was her. Sin from Sin City. That mouth. The taste of her. God, how the hell did she think he could forget this?
She didn’t kiss him like he was a stranger either. Instead of pushing him away, her grip on his shirt tightened. She answered the demanding strokes of his tongue with her own. Like she’d been wanting this moment as much as he had.
He pulled her away from the fence and gathered her fully into his arms, deepening the kiss. His Stetson fell off and into the grass, but he only vaguely noticed. He was too busy rediscovering her. Too busy realizing she was just as intoxicating as he’d remembered in Vegas.
He smoothed his hands down her spine, gathering the softness of her sweater to lift it just enough so he could trace his fingers over the bare skin above her jeans.
She made the sexiest, softest whimper, and stopped gripping his shirt. Instead she smoothed her hands over his chest. Over his shoulders. Doing a little discovering of her own.
The sound of truck rumbling to life on the property had her tensing in his arms. She stopped kissing and drew away from him. She didn’t lift her head, but kept her chin down with the shield of her blonde curls falling in a curtain to hide her eyes.
He reached up to push it aside. “You can’t deny it. Not after that.”
She ran her tongue over swollen lips. “I’m not who you think I am, Wyatt.”
Her words, thick with the lingering passion, were also shaky with despondency.
“I need to get ready.” She slipped away from him and climbed over the fence. When she hit the ground on the other side, her feet were moving so fast she was nearly jogging.
Why the hell she wanted to deny being who she was, he couldn’t say, but Wyatt wasn’t a fool. The woman who’d just melted in his arms was the same woman he’d met after the NFR. She had to be.
He just needed to figure out why she was lying, why she’d stood him up that night, and how the hell she’d ended up in Montana. He could tell himself it was just to appease his pride and curiosity, but it was only partly that.
Claire was here, staying on his ranch for the next two days, so he’d have a little time to get to the bottom of things. One thing he’d bet on was she couldn’t have known where she was staying when she’d accepted Katie’s offer. Judging by the way Claire kept avoiding him she didn’t want to be here anymore than he’d wanted her here.
Wyatt reached up to scratch the back of his neck and quickly realized his cowboy hat was gone. Remembering it had gotten knocked to the ground, he swore and picked it up.
He brushed off a couple pieces of dried grass and placed it back on his head.
At least it had fallen on the ground and not on a bed. One never wanted their hat to hit the bed. That was nothing but bad luck, especially on a rodeo day.
While it was easier said than done, he tried to force his mind to stay on the rodeo, and not that kiss, as he headed off to load his horse into the trailer.
*
“Sorry to hear about your car, Claire.”
Claire sat on the stool, one leg crossed over another with a guitar braced across it. She’d been strumming a few chords, warming up her fingers as the band set up for the upcoming sound check.
“Thanks, Frank.” She smiled at the middle-aged man who played electric guitar.
“If you want, you could probably squeeze in the back of my Ford with the gear.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay.” She didn’t want him to take it personally, so added, “I’m making a weekend of it. Getting some down time on a cute ranch just outside of town while they fix my car.”
“Sounds great. Good for you, kid.” He nodded and turned back to tuning his guitar.
Claire’s hands weren’t quite steady as she continued to warm up her instrument. Her mind was far from the stage, set up in downtown Marietta, but instead on a beautiful ranch and the man who owned it. Not to mention the soul shaking kiss they’d shared not even an hour ago.
Wyatt had figured it all out. She should’ve known he would when they’d kept spending time together.
The ride into town had been made in an uncomfortable silence. She’d prayed he wouldn’t push her for more information, and he hadn’t. Maybe he’d been in some kind of pre-rodeo zone that required silence. Either way, she’d been grateful for it.
What the hell had she been thinking letting him kiss her? She should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve stormed off and spouted denials so loudly they rang in the mountains.
Instead she’d kissed him back. Kissed him like her damn life depended on it.
God, she was a fool.
How could she start over, just be Claire Miller, if there was an interfering sexy link from her past trying to dredge up her previous self?
If her car hadn’t been in the shop she just might’ve gotten into it and driven out of town.
She might’ve, but deep down she wouldn’t be that awful. She couldn’t leave the band screwed without their acoustic guitarist and lead singer.
While no one in Bourbon and Boots had any ambition to become rich and famous, this was a nice-sized gig for them. They had a good reputation and were popular with small towns in Montana and neighboring states. Everyone in the band had day jobs, but music was their creative outlet where they brought in a little extra money.
So here she was stuck in Marietta. Time to face the music while she played it. A grim smile curled her lips as she strummed a series of cords progressions.
“Five minutes until sound check.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
Their sound tech had his table set up behind the dance area, but in front of the speakers so he could hear properly. Without a good tech a great band could sound like crap. She knew that from her job in Vegas and from gigging in Bourbon and Boots.
She loved performing. Music was in her blood.
Once upon a time she’d hated country music. She would’ve avoided music all together rather than sing or play it. Anyone who’d known her as Sin had known that fact.
Which was one of the reasons she’d come to Montana and taken the job with the Bourbon and Boots. It had not only given her a place to hide, but it allowed her to feed her passion for music while staying under the radar.
But the music she’d once hated had begun to feed her soul. There was so much heart in these songs. So many stories that could bring people to tears. Could make people laugh. Or maybe even make them believe in love. Though she’d been pretty cynical on that last one for a while now.
The band got into place on stage, ready to run through part of their set list.
Claire stared off the stage and down Main Street. It had been closed down and
turned into a legitimate party zone. Lights were strung about that would be twinkling tonight. There was an area for dancing, and seemingly endless tables set up for the big steak dinner.
She could envision all the people who would be here tonight. It would be sea of cowboy hats and boots. Women in dresses and big hair. It would be families and friends. And Wyatt Marshall would be out there sitting among them.
“All right, let’s get this ball rolling,” Joe hollered. “Claire, let’s go ahead and get a check on you, on the mic, and acoustic.”
She scooted the stool closer to the mic and strummed out the first notes of one of their songs.
She forgot about Wyatt for a moment when she started to sing. It was always that way. She got lost in the music and could escape whatever kind of reality overwhelmed her.
“Thanks, Claire!”
The escape into music was never permanent.
Joe cut her off to move on to check the bass. “Ned, can I get you to play a few bars?”
Ned began a slow walking bass line. The sound was hypnotic enough it left Claire once again at the mercy of her thoughts.
How was she going to keep this pretense up the rest of the weekend with Wyatt? How long could deny, deny, deny be her motto? It was clear he didn’t believe her. And she was doing a really crappy job trying to make him believe her.
She realized the last instrument had finished getting checked as Joe called out, “All right, let’s run through the entire set and then you guys can break for lunch.”
Grateful to be immersed in the music again, Claire put aside any thoughts of the sexy cowboy who was probably winning another belt just a few blocks away at the rodeo.
Once the sound check was over, she had far too much time on her hands and many of the shops in town seemed to be closed down for business.
Her original plan of heading to Grey’s Saloon and grabbing a beer and lunch seemed a little depressing.
Lonely.
God, she hated that word. Hated to admit she was far more of an extravert than she wished. But she loved being around people, it energized her. Made her feel more alive than being shut in a house alone.
She’d been in Montana just over a year and only had a handful of people she’d even call acquaintances. Her bandmates were most of them.
The guys had all gone to check out the rodeo and now she was kind of kicking herself for not going with them.
She glanced down the quiet road that led to where the rodeo was taking place. She could hear the blare of country music now and then, and the cheering of the townsfolk.
It sounded like fun. The urge to go join them hit suddenly, and Claire sighed. When was the last time she’d let herself have fun?
It’s a bad idea.
Bad idea or not, she made her way to the fair grounds. She’d find a way to make sure she wouldn’t be seen.
*
Wyatt had stewed the entire drive into town. Claire hadn’t said a word, and he figured it’d be best right now to not try and get any out of her. There’d been enough drama already.
Besides, not talking gave him plenty of time to replay their kiss in his head. It had rocked him to the bone. The desire for her had been stronger than he’d ever experienced with a woman—and he knew without a doubt she’d felt the same way.
Yet she’d still denied it.
He shouldn’t want her like this. Especially now that he knew who she really was. A lying, blue-balling, lounge singer from Vegas who’d somehow ended up in Montana.
Wyatt pulled his trailer into the rodeo field, shaking his head as he found a spot to park. He climbed out of the truck and went to unload the horses and waved to Shelby, his team-roping partner, who must’ve seen him arrive.
“Hey there, Shelby.”
She grinned, helping him bring the horses out. “Hey, Wyatt. Ready to win this today?”
“Hell yeah. You nervous?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
She moved to help him unload the horses. They’d been friends since they were kids and roping partners in high school rodeo. He looked at her like another sister and tended to try and protect her like one.
Which was why it hadn’t been easy to bite his tongue and not warn her to guard her heart when she’d admitted to getting involved with her ex, Tyler, again.
“Tyler still competing in saddle bronc?”
Shelby’s excitement and sunny disposition faded a bit. “Yeah, and it’s got me nervous as hell.” She shook her head, sending her brown braid swinging. “Foolish man. That last accident could’ve killed him, but he’s still gotta ride one last time.”
Wyatt gave a short nod. “Can’t say I blame him. A man always has his reasons. I’d probably do the same.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Wyatt knew the former champ in saddle bronc, their paths had crossed more than once. He’d been sorry to hear about the accident, but it was a well-known risk one took in rodeo.
“I’ll go head over and fill out the paperwork, if you want to brush the horses down?”
“I’m on it. Thanks, Wyatt.”
He headed over to the rodeo office, weaving between trailers and pausing to talk with a handful of people who stopped him along the way, welcoming him back.
The Copper Mountain rodeo was his home rodeo and a popular one in Montana, but even if it hadn’t been, people knew who he was. They knew Wyatt had taken home first place in tie-down roping at the NFR last year and help put Marietta on the map.
They also knew he’d retired after the win, and this was his first time competing since Vegas. He’d quit the pro-circuit and became a full time rancher.
The truth was, he’d been a little grateful to give it up. He was pushing thirty and feeling a bit worn out. Though he couldn’t deny that without the death of his dad, he’d probably have kept on going anyway.
Instead he’d hung up his hat, metaphorically speaking, on competing with the only exception being the annual Copper Mountain Rodeo. That was just for fun and because competing still got his blood fired up.
By the time he finished with the paperwork and returned to the horses, Shelby had both of them saddled and was just mounting the heeling horse.
“We’re going to head out and warm up.”
“I’ll be right behind you.’
Shelby nodded and urged the horse toward the pen, where other competitors were already circling.
He’d just mounted his horse when he heard a sultry, “Hello, Wyatt.”
He glanced down and saw Luanne, shielding her hand over her eyes to stare up at him.
While holding back a sigh, he forced a smile. “Morning, Luanne.”
“It was great having dinner with you last night.”
“Yeah, it was fun.” There was no forcing enthusiasm on this one.
Luanne was a gorgeous redhead who never lacked male attention, but she’d clearly decided she was going after Wyatt again. When he’d accepted the offer for dinner, he’d figured why the hell not?
“I’m glad to see you competing today, Wyatt. I was shocked to hear you’d quit.”
“I didn’t quit, Luanne.” Irritation bristled. “I’ll always compete in the Copper Mountain Rodeo.”
“This is small fries, baby. You could win them all.”
“I already did.” Been there. Done that. He’d moved on.
“Yes, but you could win them again.” She sighed and reached out to touch his chest. “You’re going to the dance tonight, right?”
“Yeah.” He looked forward to hearing Claire try and pull off country music when clearly she was gifted for covering eighties rock.
“Save me a dance then.”
“Of course.”
Anything to end this conversation and put some space between them. It was hard to think about Luanne when Claire was taking up all the space in his head.
Hell, he shouldn’t be thinking about women at all this close to competing. Where was his damn focus?
It shou
ldn’t be on Claire. He shouldn’t be thinking about their kiss. Shouldn’t be thinking about how she’d feel beneath him, crying out his name and begging for pleasure. Begging for forgiveness for standing him up.
It was a real problem. This wanting her, and wanting to hate her.
“I need to get out and warm up, Luanne. You should, too.” He urged his horse past her, calling out, “Good luck out there.”
She was going to need it if she rode at all like she had back in college.
He entered the arena to make his first lap to warm up his horse. His gaze slid in a slow perusal over the bleachers and the crowd that had gathered.
Lots of familiar faces from Marietta along with some other ones he’d seen on the circuit.
Even though he knew Claire was in town doing her sound check for the concert tonight, he was a little disappointed. He wanted her here. Wanted her to see him in his element when he did his thing. Because he was proud of the sweat and blood he put into roping.
After almost a year off from competing, he was looking forward to getting back in the pen. There was nothing like the rush of adrenaline when the gates flew open and he was off trying to beat his best time.
Wyatt urged his horse into another lap as he slid his gaze over to the rodeo entrance.
There, paying for a ticket to enter, was Claire.
Surprise and pleasure rushed through him as his lips curled into a smile.
Maybe he hadn’t needed another boost of motivation to win today, but regardless, he’d just gotten it.
Chapter Six
Claire paid the small fee to get into the rodeo and moved toward the grandstand.
As she walked, she glanced at the cowboys and cowgirls lingering off to the side. There was an abundance of cowboy hats, denim, and, on the women, rhinestones.
It was pretty much the visual she’d always had when she pictured a rodeo.
Once she reached the bleachers, she glanced around, trying to figure out the place where she’d be most inconspicuous. The stands were already filling up, but the top was still fairly empty.
She made her way up and took a seat by herself.
Protect Me, Cowboy (78th Copper Mountain Rodeo Book 2) Page 6