12 Borrowing Trouble

by Becky McGraw

  The last thing she wanted was this man to see her crying. She prayed he would just go back to the bunkhouse and leave her to her baking and bawling. Storming back into the kitchen, she grabbed the spatula and went back to work on cleaning up the mess she had made.

  After she finished scraping the last sheet, she carried the sheets to the sink and ran water so they could soak. When she turned back around, she bumped into Dylan’s broad, bare chest. Because she didn’t want to stare at his spectacular chest, she looked up, which was a mistake.

  His eyes pinned hers, as his hands gripped her shoulders. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked this time with concern and a note of sympathy in his voice. There was something else there too. Understanding? Maybe a hint of fear?

  “What’s right would be a shorter list,” Carrie replied with a short laugh. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and finally admitted, “My life is a fucked up mess.”

  “You can change that, if you don’t give up,” he said, and Carrie wondered at his grave tone. He didn’t know her or her situation. This man didn’t know she was desperate and her head was just as messed up as her life. But from the look on his face, he knew.

  Her lower lip wobbled, and she bit it, waiting until she thought she had control. “I’ve been trying to do that since Sean died, but it’s not working.” Carrie tried to step around him, but he stopped her, and trapped her against the counter with his body. He put his finger under her chin and tilted it up so she had no choice but to look at him.

  His beautiful, caring brown eyes held hers captive as he studied her intently. “There’s always hope, as long as you keep trying,” he said with conviction. His fingers tightened on her chin. “Promise you won’t give up, Carrie.” The intensity of his expression and words were a little over the top for the situation.

  Carrie pulled her chin from his grasp and laughed. “Don’t think you’ll find me face down in my cake batter. I’m not suicidal over the cookies or anything, just frustrated.”

  She was just having a meltdown, one of many she’d had since Sean died. Releasing her grief and frustration when she hit a boiling point was a good thing. The therapist she’d seen after Sean died said so. People who hadn’t been through what she’d been through, was still going through, just didn’t understand. When she had a meltdown, instead of giving her space to work things out, they thought they needed to fix things. She didn’t want help fixing things. She just wanted to be left alone to figure it out herself.

  “Don’t joke about that,” he said angrily, and her gaze flew up to his. The darkness in his reprimand matched the pained expression on his face. His jaw worked, then he swallowed. “If you ever get there, please talk to someone. Talk to me.”

  Suicide was a coward’s way out, not something Carrie would ever consider. Too many people depended on her, and as messed up as it was, Carrie loved life. This man’s persistence on the topic, the darkness and passion behind his words, piqued her curiosity about his situation. He acted like he had firsthand knowledge of the subject. “Have you been there before? Tried to take the coward’s way out?”

  His face paled, and his lips became so tight they were almost white. She felt his tension in his fingers as they dug into the flesh of her shoulders. “No, I haven’t,” he replied indignantly. “I would never do that.”

  He might not ever consider it, but it was obvious to Carrie that someone close to him must have. It was written there on his face. Carrie wasn’t going to pry though. It wasn’t her business, and she had enough problems of her own to deal with.

  She forced a tight smile, and said in a light tone she didn’t feel, “I made biscuits, and they didn’t suffer the same fate as the cookies. You hungry?”

  Her deflection didn’t work. He shook his head, then zoned back in on her. “No, I want to know why you were crying.”

  Carrie dragged her eyes from his. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, turning toward the stove to loosen the biscuits from the pan. “Now, if you’re hungry, I suggest you get a biscuit and sit down to eat. Otherwise, leave me alone and let me finish baking.”

  There was a long pause. Carrie almost thought he’d left, but when she turned back around, he was still there. Just staring at her. When her eyes met his, he said, “If you were crying about last night, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry I acted like a drunk asshole.”

  I’m sorry I kissed you is what Carrie’s mind heard and emotion built in her chest again. She wasn’t sorry he had kissed her, and that was probably why she was upset. She had enjoyed it, wanted more of it. The guilt that settled like a rock in the center of her chest almost overwhelmed her. She rubbed the area between her breasts, because it hurt that bad. “Please just leave me alone,” she whispered, as she tried to turn back toward the stove.

  Dylan stopped her and lifted a strand of her hair. “You’ve got dough in your hair.” Every root on her scalp stood at attention as he slid his fingers slowly to the end, before he dropped it back to her shoulder. They stood taller when he skimmed her cheek with his thumb, then settled his palm there. The intensity of the want and need that surged through her body, the yearning in her heart to feel more of his touch, hardened her guilt to granite.

  Carrie pulled away and spun back toward the stove. She dragged in a shaky breath, as she picked up the spatula with a trembling hand. “I have flour and dough everywhere.”

  How the hell was she ever going to move on if she couldn’t get rid of this guilt at letting another man touch her? She deserved to move on. It wasn’t her fault she was in this situation, that she was without her husband. Sean had left her. But maybe she wasn’t ready yet.

  Ready or not, Dylan didn’t leave or back off. His heat surrounded her as his body crowded her from behind. His fingers brushed her skin as he pushed her hair aside to lean over her shoulder. He stuck his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, then hovered there a moment with his hot breath tickling the shell of her ear. The richer, deeper timber of his voice vibrated through her, as he finally asked, “You like to bake. Is that why you smell like sugar cookies?” Electricity zipped down her spine when his lips touched down briefly on a spot right behind her ear. Carrie shivered and he laughed.

  “Or do you just wear the dough behind your ear to tease me, because you know I have a weakness for sugar cookies?” After a final flick of his hot, wet tongue, he moved away. Cool air hit the wet imprint left by his mouth, and Carrie shivered. Her nails curled into her palms, and she sucked in a breath when they scraped her burn. The spatula clattered to the stove, and she sucked the fleshy pad at the side of her palm into her mouth.

  Dylan grabbed her hand to inspect it. “Did you burn yourself?” he asked with concern. “We need to take you to the med shack and get Terri to bandage it. I was headed out there when I heard the smoke alarm, but I didn’t see her out there.”

  “It’s fine,” Carrie said tugging her hand away. He didn’t let it go. Instead, he brought it to his mouth and kissed it slowly as he held her gaze. Carrie licked her lips, tasting the sugar cookies she had to taste test before she put them in the oven. “Um, I, ah…” she stammered, at a loss for words as she stared at the blatant desire in his eyes.

  “Do you ride?” he asked suddenly.

  Her dazed mind spun trying to process the words. “Since I could walk,” Carrie replied once she wrapped her mind around what he’d asked.

  “I have a few days off for my arm to heal. Will you go riding with me this afternoon? You need to relax a little,” he said with a little smile.

  Carrie didn’t know how spending time with this cowboy would lend itself to relaxation. Every time she got within three feet of him, she was wound tighter than she had been in years. Being alone with him wouldn’t help her put distance between them. But her mouth opened, and “Yes,” fell out before she could stop it.

  She only had two days left here, and she couldn’t resist the opportunity to feel like a desirable woman once more. That’s how he made
her feel. Something she hadn’t felt in three years, and wasn’t likely to feel again for a long time after she left this ranch. Dylan made her forget her grief, forget her problems. Carrie knew agreeing to spend time with him was just avoidance. Her problems would still be there when she went back to her parents’ ranch. Right now though, he would help her forget for an afternoon.

  “Come out to the barn around two, and I’ll have the horses saddled.”

  “I can help,” she offered, and her gaze fell to his shoulder. “You’re hurt. You shouldn’t be saddling anything. Are you sure you’re okay to ride?”

  He laughed and his smile broadened. “I could ride with one arm tied behind my back.”

  “I’ll ride with you, if you let me saddle the horses then,” she propositioned.

  “Deal,” he replied and his deep voice vibrated along her nerve endings. When he leaned toward her, Carrie held her breath. His lips touched hers, lingered for a second, then with a playful little nip to her lower lip, he stood back up and smiled. “You taste like sugar cookies.”

  “That’s what the lumps of coal in the trash were,” she replied with an embarrassed laugh.

  “Give me some of those beautiful biscuits, and a few of those cupcakes to take back to the bunkhouse with me.” Dylan eyed them over her shoulder. “I’ll make some gravy to go with the biscuits for breakfast.” His tongue made a circuit around his lips, and her eyes were dragged around with it. Heat settled between her legs, and her lips sizzled.

  She would give him the whole damned pan if he kissed her again. But he didn’t. He just stood there staring. Waiting. For her to do something. Oh, yeah, ice the cupcakes and wrap up biscuits for him. Heat shot up to her cheeks, and Carrie walked to the refrigerator to get the bowl of icing. She iced the cupcakes while he leaned against the counter watching her. Moving around him, she brought the bowl to the sink, then opened the cabinet beside it to look for a container. The one she wanted was on the upper shelf, and she couldn’t reach it even on her tip toes. Huffing a frustrated breath, she balanced on her arms, then climbed up on the counter. Sometimes it sucked being short, she thought, as she stood to drag it down from the top shelf. When she turned around to get down Dylan was right there behind her.

  He smiled up at her and put his hand at her knee. “I couldn’t help you get it down, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall,” he informed with a shrug.

  Carrie eased down to sit on the counter, and he grabbed the container from her to sit it on the counter, before he nudged her knees apart to make a space for his hips. He slid his hands up her thighs to grip her hips, and Carrie’s heart did a leap in her chest. “And I wanted a real kiss. You’re at the perfect height now for that to happen.”

  His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he licked his lips again. “Kiss me, Carrie,” he invited, not making a move to kiss her. He just waited while staring at her mouth, which felt like it was on fire. Carrie licked her own lips, then hesitantly leaned toward him, stopping when her mouth was within millimeters of his to catch her breath, to get her out of control heart to slow down.

  “Kiss me, Carrie,” he whispered again.

  She put her palms on his bare chest and his heated skin felt like smooth silk under her touch. His warm, musky morning scent enflamed her senses, as she closed the space between them to take a tentative pass over his mouth with hers, then another. That evidently wasn’t enough for him, because his left hand moved up from her hip. He shoved his hand into her hair, cradling her skull to pull her closer, as his mouth devoured hers. He feasted on her lips like they were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  His were the best she had tasted in a helluva long time, that was for sure. Minty toothpaste, and the sweetness of the man kissing her flooded her senses. Carrie couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands moved to circle his neck and pull him closer still. He was right, this counter was at the perfect height for kissing and so much more.

  The inside of her knee brushed the warm skin at his hip, where his pajama pants rode low. Fire shot up the inside of her thigh to her center and she throbbed there in time with her heart. Without conscious thought, Carrie wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer to where she needed him. Dylan moaned into her mouth, and his tongue courted hers in time with his hips, as he ground himself into her.

  His erection hit her in just the perfect spot, and her breath came in short pants as her pleasure inched up with each stroke. When she couldn’t breathe, she dragged her mouth from his and threw her head back. His lips latched onto the side of her neck and he sucked her there. Carrie moaned loudly, thrusting her hips against him, reaching for the release that was just out of her reach. “Oh, God, Dylan…yes, make me come,” she whispered hotly.

  His fingers dug into her right hip, as he continued to suck her neck. “Lord, woman…I want to fuck you right here on Penny’s counter,” he growled into her ear, increasing the pace of his thrusts.

  That was the hottest damned thing Carrie had ever heard. The only place she’d ever made love was in the bedroom. Behind closed doors. Most of the time with the kids rattling the doorknob, or yelling for her. Just the naughty image of doing it right here that flickered through her mind, sent her tumbling over the edge.

  Her thighs tensed around him. “Mmm....” she groaned long and low in her throat, as her body vibrated with the incredible orgasm that slammed into her.

  Dylan held her tight until her tremors stopped, and he still held tight once they ceased. He just held her to him with his chin resting on her shoulder. “You okay,” she whispered, kissing his temple.

  “Yeah, but I have a problem.”

  It was then she realized the inside of her thighs were slick and wet, and so was the front of his pajama pants. A final tremor rocked her, and a smile kicked up the corner of her mouth. She was glad he got his too, but it did present a problem. “I’ll run out to the bunkhouse and get you a pair of jeans, if you can make it to the shower,” she offered.

  He shook his head, and sighed. “Be hard to explain why I’m taking a shower up here, if Terri comes inside.”

  “It would be harder to explain why the front of your pants, are—“

  With a growl, he stepped back from her. His cheeks were red, and Carrie couldn’t help but laugh. “Was that kiss real enough for you, cowboy?” she teased with a feeling of euphoria dancing through her.

  “You’re going to pay for that later,” he threatened snatching a dish towel off the counter to tuck it into the front of his pants. “Go get my jeans,” he said as he turned.

  Her eyes latched onto his firm ass, and she watched the muscles flex as he walked out of the kitchen. When he disappeared, Carrie sighed and hopped off of the counter. She hurried out of the house to go get his jeans, hoping she didn’t run into Terri.

  Getting caught in the bunkhouse, in Dylan’s room more specifically, would be hard to explain too. She just hoped she picked the right one. She felt pretty confident she could identify it from his scent alone. It was something she thought would be forever burned into her senses.

  When she ran back in the door with the jeans, Terri, who was elbow deep in sudsy water at the sink, looked her way. Terri’s eyes dropped to the jeans in her hand briefly, before sliding back up to hers filled with curiosity. She smiled. “You feeling better?” she asked with a strange tone to her comment.

  The metal buttons on the fly of Dylan’s jeans dug into her palm, as her hand tightened around them. A thrill shot through her at how close they’d come to getting caught making out on the counter right next to where Terri was standing. Five minutes sooner, and Terri would know why she had the jeans in her hand, why Dylan needed them. “Um, Dylan surprised me and I got dough all over him,” Carrie improvised, forcing a bright smile.

  “Uh, huh…that dough is some sticky stuff,” Terri commented slyly, before turning her attention back to the dishes. “I heard the shower shut off, so he’s probably ready for those jeans.”

  Carrie didn’t miss the laughter behind her w
ords. Had they been caught? Did Terri know what they’d been doing? Or was the simple elevation in her mood enough to give her away? The heat she’d kept from staining her face a few moments ago rushed up, and her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Thank goodness, Terri wasn’t looking at her.

  Carrie turned toward the doorway. “I’ll be right back to help you,” she mumbled, as she took off, wondering if that was really Terri’s laughter following her across the living room.

  She made it down the hallway to the bathroom door, and felt steam coming out from under the door. Mental pictures of Dylan standing in there naked made her mouth water, and her hand shook as she knocked. The door opened a crack, and his face appeared out of the steam. He smiled and gave her a sexy wink before he opened the door wider to stick his arm outside.

  Carrie handed him the jeans, but instead of taking them from her, Dylan grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. He shut the door, and pushed her up against it. Steam surrounded them as his mouth found hers in a hot kiss that almost melted her into a puddle on the floor. She was breathing hard when he finally dragged his mouth from hers.

  “Thanks, baby. Terri knocked on the door, and I told her my pants got wet trying to help you clean up the mess in the kitchen. I just wanted to let you know in case she asked.”

  Carrie groaned, closing her eyes to tap her head back against the door.

  “What?” he asked with concern.

  “I told her I spilled dough on your pants.”

  “Quick thinking, babe, but I think the gig is up,” he said with a laugh.

  “No wonder she laughed at me,” Carrie said shaking her head. Her eyes popped open. “She knows I was lying to her. I’m a terrible liar anyway.”

  “If you’ve got to have a flaw, that would be the one to have,” he said with another laugh.

  “Oh, I have flaws…you just haven’t been around me enough to see them.”

  Dylan put his left hand against the door, and leaned closer. “I think you’re lying again. His eyes slid down her body to her toes. “Name one,” he challenged with a sexy grin.