Cowboy (The Busy Bean)

by L. B. Dunbar

  “What’s that?” Scarlett questions, leaning her head forward and squinting out the windshield to see better. There’s no way to miss the singular tree, standing on its own on this low rise of land. I only smile as we pull up and park near the wire fencing protecting it.

  “Take a walk with me.” Scarlett already has her hand on the door handle and steps out before me. Once I exit the truck and round the front, I take her hand and guide her closer to the large sugar maple.

  “Legend has it my great-great-grandfather lived near this tree. His livelihood came from that tree as he used it to produce maple for sweetening. We aren’t certain why it’s only one lone tree. Might be he chopped down the others, or maybe they died.” I shrug. “The family eventually moved closer to our current location, starting with the small home that’s mine now and eventually building the larger one where I grew up.”

  Scarlett tips her head back once we stand under the tree. The sunlight filters through the thick green leaves and reflects off her bright hair.

  “It’s a brilliant red color in the fall. Because of that color, it’s said to look like a giant heart and earned its name as the Engagement Tree.”

  I walk Scarlett closer to the trunk, pointing out initials in the bark. Her shaky finger reaches forward and traces one set with an arrow between the four initials.

  “Those are my grandparents. BE and KC stands for Harland Bull Eaton and his wife, my grandmother, Katherine Caswell.” I point at another set of initials with a distinct heart around them and a plus sign between them. “H and E is Harland Eaton, my father, and my mother Rose Newton is the R and N.”

  Scarlett glances over at me and smiles before a thought occurs and the smile withers. “Did you ask Jennifer to marry you here?”

  I softly chuckle. “Actually, I didn’t. Some say it’s what jinxed my marriage. Didn’t ask her in the proper place.” My brows pinch as I remember asking Jen in the front seat of my pickup, right before we had sex. It was such a long time ago, so the memory is hazy. I was young back then.

  “What about the other women?”

  Placing my hands on my hips, I pause before answering. This is sacred ground to my family. What was I thinking by bringing Scarlett here? Am I jinxing us by explaining this place to her?

  “I’ve never brought anyone here,” I murmur, squinting up at the leaves whispering in the light summer breeze. Although I sense Scarlett watching me, I don’t look directly at her. Instead, I shift my gaze back to the tree trunk. “Sweetheart, I have something to give you and something I want to say to you. Standing under this tree promises you that what I say is true.”

  “Bull, I don’t think we—” Her hand comes up to stop me, and I realize almost too late what she must think.

  “I’m not asking you to marry me, Scarlett.” No, no, no. I won’t be going there again.

  “You’re not?” Her forehead furrows, and her dark eyes lower to our feet. Then she looks up and off to the side. “Of course, you’re not.” Her soft voice stirs my insides, but marriage isn’t what she wants from me anyway.

  “You don’t want to marry me, darlin’.”

  “I don’t?” Her neck cranes, and she faces me once more. A little crease forms between her brows.

  “No,” I say, reaching out to press my thick thumb to that divot between her brows. For one, she’s already been married and hurt by it. She doesn’t need marriage with me to be her partner. There are hints of Scarlett being similar to Sabrina in her need for more—without the greed—and being married to a cow man will not be enough for her. Two, I’m not ever asking another woman to marry me. It just leads to all kinds of trouble. Still, Scarlett’s expression is troubling. I’d like to say it’s disappointment, but that’s me projecting, and there will be none of that.

  “We’re celebrating the little life inside you. It’s a miracle, a gift, and this is the right place to tell you how precious I think you are. I care about you and that baby.” I point at her belly. Scarlett’s hand covers her lower abs, and she glances down at what we can’t visibly see but know is happening inside her. She’s building a human being in there.

  Next, I reach into my pocket and lay flat the gift I have for her.

  “It seems I missed Mother’s Day, and I wanted to give you this.” It’s a silver bangle bracelet with a mother-child charm on it.

  “Mother’s Day,” she whispers quietly. “I’d forgotten all about it.” Scarlett has issues with her own parents and didn’t call her mother on the day set aside for such a thing. I should have thought to give her something earlier, but this is all still new to me.

  Her eyes fill with liquid as she takes the bracelet from me and rubs her thumb over the charm. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “This tree is life to my family, and you are life to me, carrying that baby. Some say this tree is the heart of this land, and well, it just seems like a good place to take a moment and appreciate what we heard today, Sprout’s heartbeat.” I shrug, suddenly anxious by my admission. Maybe it’s too much. Maybe I’m the only one overwhelmed by what we just experienced. Maybe I’m the one that needs a moment.

  “I sound like a sap, don’t I?”

  Scarlett’s been eyeing the bracelet while I spoke, but she looks up at me, her brown eyes as rich as the soil we stand on. “No, it sounds beautiful. You’re a good man.” Her voice cracks, and I step closer to her.

  “Let me be Sprout’s daddy then. No matter what or who is the father, let me be the man in his life.”

  “Bull.” Scarlett’s voice falls over my name again in a whisper I can’t interpret.

  “It doesn’t matter to me whether Sprout is biologically mine. I want him. I want . . . us to be a team.” I swallow, nearly admitting how much I want her.

  “Take a look around you. See all this land?” I point off in the distance, where we can see the silos of the barn along with the old red structure. “A baby grows into a child who needs to run free. He needs sunshine, fresh air, and a place to roam, just like a calf. I want to give that to you and Sprout.”

  Scarlett’s been scanning the land, but she looks up at me, her eyes blinking. “You are not comparing our child to a calf?” she teases, lessening the tension on her face.

  “Our child. I like the sound of that,” I admit, dismissing her teasing me about cow comparisons. “Let me be the daddy, no matter what.” I’m so close to her, I lower my hand to her belly and flatten my palm. Scarlett looks down and covers my larger mitt with her delicate fingers. “Let me take care of you both.”

  Her head pops upward, and her eyes widen. “Bull, I could never ask you to do that. I just need to find a different job and a new—”

  I lift my other hand and stop her words with two fingers over her lips. “You aren’t asking me, Scarlett. I’m asking you. If you want another job, get another job, but you also don’t need it. I can provide for us. Stay here with me. Live in my house. Hell, make it more your own. It will be littered with baby things soon enough, and that’s just fine with me. I want to turn the third bedroom into a nursery.”

  Scarlett blinks repeatedly, but a few teardrops fall as she looks down at my hand still over her belly. Both her hands cover mine.

  “Bull, I don’t know what to say. Don’t you think it’s too much, too fast? It just all seems so crazy. Shouldn’t we wait until we know more? From the second we met, we’ve been like a lit match.”

  “Maybe we have moved fast. Maybe it is crazy, but I don’t need to be Sprout’s biological father to love him, Scarlett. And the only thing you need to say is yes to me being his dad. Do it for the baby.” I pause a second, reconsidering my suggestion. “Unless you don’t like the proposition.” I pull my hand away from her stomach, but Scarlett captures it, holding me in place with her hands over mine. Stepping closer to me, she speaks.

  “That’s just it. I like the proposition too much. I’m afraid to trust it.” Her eyes narrow, heavy with concern as she gazes up at me.

  “What are you worried about?”
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  “I’ll screw up.” Her voice drops. “With you. With the baby. What if I’m not a good mom?”

  “You won’t screw up, sweetheart, and if you do, well, I’m here to unscrew you.”

  Her mouth falls open, and I immediately backtrack. “That wasn’t the right choice of words.”

  She chuckles softly at my fumbling, and I pinch her chin between my fingers. As I lean forward, her mouth is only an inch away. “Say yes, sweetheart.”

  Scarlett licks her lips, and my own mouth waters. “Yes.”

  Before the final sound completes the word, my mouth crashes hers. One hand slips into her hair while my arm wraps around her waist, tugging her to me. Scarlett’s hands are instantly around my neck, her arms coming to my shoulders to pull herself higher on me. Within seconds, I have her back to the tree, sucking at her lips like a sweet maple candy. She gives as much as I take and more, kissing me back with just as much sugar.

  My hand slips down to her backside, squeezing as I press her forward against me. Bending my knees, I line us up and lift, grinding the thick wedge in my jeans between her skirt-covered legs.

  “Let me celebrate with your body, sweetheart,” I whisper to her as I lower for her jaw and her neck. My other hand drops for her skirt and slowly tugs the loose material upward, baring her thigh to me. I cup the underside and lift her leg upward, hitching it against my hip. Surging forward once more, I reinforce what I’ve said. I’m hot and hard and want inside her.

  “God, Bull. It’s been so hard to resist you.”

  “Don’t resist.” Scarlett’s arms are snug around my neck as her body rocks with mine. “I need to touch you, taste you.”

  “Yes,” she hisses, and I drop to one knee. With her back against the tree, I shove up her skirt, which she takes in one hand. My nose runs over her heated center, inhaling the musky scent of her sex.

  “You want me, sweetheart?” The damp underwear and sweet fragrance of her already answer my question. Leaning up just a bit, I press a kiss to her lower belly before hooking my fingers in her underwear and dragging them down her legs. She steps out of one side, and my face returns between her thighs, inhaling deeply as I force her stance wider, spreading her legs for me.

  “I’m going to worship you,” I warn. My tongue lashes forward, licking her like a sugary treat. I can’t get my fill, and I latch harder to her clit, my tongue wiggles between slick folds. Her fingers delve into my hair as her hips tip forward. She rocks toward me, and I grip her hips, angling her in a way my face parts her thighs even more. She melts against my mouth, coating my lips in candy goodness, and I lap and lick, eager for every drop of her. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and I pin her back, holding her in place against the Engagement Tree.

  “Bull. Ohmygod. It’s too much. I’m going to . . .” Her legs stiffen. Her thighs clamp my cheeks. She purrs, and I glance up to see her head tip back, resting against the dark bark, which provides a contrast to the brightness of her red hair. The image makes my heart race, reminding me of this tree in full bloom. Her hand releases from my hair as her arms bend back, wrapping around the tree trunk as best she can in this awkward position. She moans in such a way she’s disturbing the quiet hill, but I want to hear that sound on repeat. She’s the roar of wind over the meadow. The lull of the herd coming home in the evening. She’s everything and more to me.

  Once I sense she’s replete, I slowly pull back, pressing a final kiss to her soaked center. Quickly, I stand, cupping one cheek.

  “No more fighting those pregnancy hormones. Whatever this is, just let it be,” I plea. My thumb lowers, brushing over her lips, expecting her to argue my suggestion.

  “Every night on that damn couch, it’s been so difficult . . .” Her voice drifts as her mouth opens and sucks at my thumb.

  “Me, too, darlin’. Every night I just want to wrap around you and drag you under me or pull you over me.”

  “Bull.” Her eyes widen as her mouth pops open. Her back is still against the tree. Her underwear still near her ankle, but her hands come to my belt.

  “Sweetheart?”

  “Today was incredible, and I just want to thank you. I owe you—”

  “I don’t want you to feel you owe me anything,” I state, gripping her wrist to stop her frantic movement. Pulling back from her, I discover her small hands have a firm hold on the waist of my jeans. “I never want you to feel beholden to me.”

  “Wrong choice of words,” she corrects, lowering her eyes to where her fingers take my zipper and tug down the metal closure. “Not beholden. Not obligated. Just—” She stops herself short as she begins pushing down the sides of my jeans and lowers her body between me and the tree. “Just hungry for you.”

  Her hand is wrapped around me before I blink, and the sharp tug she gives my heavy dick has me losing all thought. With my hands falling forward to the tree trunk to balance myself over her, she’s eye level with a precious part of me, licking her lips like she’s ready to suck me dry.

  “Sweetheart,” I hiss as her thumb coasts around the crown and then through the slit, dripping with eagerness. Her mouth opens, and she latches onto me with the force of one desperate to milk me of all my worth. Her tongue swirls and her cheeks hollow, causing a suction like nothing I’ve ever felt before. She pulls back, but I chase her retreat, wanting to keep the heat of her mouth wrapped around me. Her hands come to my hips, holding me still, allowing herself to bob forward and draw me deep. My knees nearly buckle, and I reach down with shaky fingers, stroking through her hair as she takes me to the hilt, sucking me until I almost see stars in broad daylight.

  “I want to finish inside you, darlin’.” I groan, wanting to be buried somewhere else in her, feel her surrounding me with the heat of her sweetness. She shakes her head, smiling around my stiff dick before returning to her mission. Within seconds, I’m warning her. It’s been weeks of celibacy and sweet torture, knowing she’s only a cushion away on the couch or down the hall from my bedroom. I have so much built-up tension it could be embarrassing, but as I break free of the dam, Scarlett digs her fingernails into my hips and tugs me forward, forcing every drop down her throat.

  “Sweet Jesus,” I hiss as I tip my chin and close my eyes. Quickly, I reopen them to watch her lips around me as I pulse, spilling into her mouth. When it’s more than I can take, I pull back, breathing heavily as not an ounce is left. Scarlett swipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, and I lower to cup under her armpit, tugging her upward. “You little minx.”

  She smiles sweetly, biting her lower lip. While she’s pleased with herself, she still holds a hunger in her eyes.

  “You want more, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  She chews harder at her lip, fighting back the confession.

  “You give me the truck ride back to the house, and I’ll be ready again.” I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’ll fill you in more ways than one.”

  Her mouth reaches for mine, and I taste my saltiness on her tongue. We kiss for only a minute before I’m pulling back, lowering to restore her underwear, righting my pants, and ready to get her out from under this tree. I’m not as young as I used to be, and I need a few minutes to recuperate, but with all the pent-up frustration of holding out, it’s not going to take much. I’m already eager for what we’ll do next.

  11

  Not Another Day

  Scarlett

  My heart races with anticipation of what Bull and I will do once we get to the house. He’s holding my hand as he drives, sucking at my fingers like a damn candy treat, and it has my insides already swirling. He’s so good with his tongue it’s a crime, and it’s been weeks since we’ve been together. Images of him over me while slipping into my depths have me on the edge of losing it right here next to him.

  We’re approaching Bull’s home from a different angle of the property. The Engagement Tree. His explanation of the tree’s history almost gave me a heart attack, especially when he said he had something to tell me. But just as quickly, my
heart felt an unfamiliar fissure as he said he wasn’t asking me to marry him. It shouldn’t have mattered. The truth is, I’m still married. I shouldn’t want to marry again anyway.

  Partners.

  What Shelton did to me still stings, but with Bull asking to be Sprout’s daddy, Shelton’s betrayal hardly hurts. It seems silly to me. Shouldn’t I be bruised for longer? Shouldn’t I mourn and wail and rally against him? Instead, I feel nothing for a man I was married to for fourteen years.

  My pinky has more feeling for the man sucking on it than the entirety of my body has for my soon-to-be ex-husband.

  I glance down at the bracelet now dangling from my wrist. Bull truly is a sweet man, showering me with gifts and giving me all the sentimental reasoning behind it. Even though he wasn’t proposing to me underneath that beautiful tree, his words about life and heart meant everything to me. I’m riding a high I never could have imagined.

  However, as we near Bull’s house, something inside me shifts when I see a car I’m all too familiar with parked in Bull’s driveway. Bull must sense it as well because he lowers my hand, curling his fingers around mine as he places my hand on his upper thigh.

  “Who the hell is that?” His voice grumbles.

  “That’s Dr. Shelton Blake, my husband.” My voice drops as I name the man stepping out of his BMW convertible. He’s wearing his standard tie and rolled-sleeve dress shirt, looking every bit the male model he could be. If only his insides matched the outer shell of him. Bull slowly pulls his truck to a halt next to the man leaning casually against his sporty car. For some reason, I can’t seem to take my eyes off Shelton while I feel Bull’s sight pressing into the back of my head.