More Than a Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 3)

by Sarah Mayberry

  Because that was the key here—she needed to let Garret know she was fine about last night, that there would be no weirdness, and that they should just continue on as they had in the past. She had no expectations, and she certainly wasn’t going to start flirting with him or assuming anything while on the job.

  Sure. The guy’s just been inside you. You wouldn’t want to come across too friendly and give him the wrong idea.

  “Oh, shut up,” she snapped, turning away from her reflection.

  Garret’s car was pulling into the Tates’ reserved parking spot as she exited the hangar. Sierra wiped her damp palms down the sides of her chinos, then lifted her chin and walked across to the Bell. She checked the time on her phone as Garret approached, just to give herself something to do, then pasted on a smile and steeled herself to meet his eyes.

  “Mr. Tate. Hope you had a good day. We’ll have a tailwind on the way home, so it should be a nice fast flight,” she said.

  This was the moment where he would hopefully say something to make last night okay. Maybe some kind of self-deprecating joke, or some other acknowledgment that even though they’d made a mutual mistake, it was not big deal and nothing needed to change between them.

  Garret’s face was unreadable as he glanced at her. “That’s good. I need to be at an appointment at the hospital by seven thirty.”

  “Not a problem. You’ll make it with time to spare.”

  She moved ahead of him to open the passenger cabin door, then stepped well back so there would be no chance of them accidentally brushing against one another. He climbed into the passenger cabin, and she secured the door behind him.

  She pressed her hand against her stomach as she turned away, willing the sick, nervous feeling away. So what if he was distant? It wasn’t as though she knew how to handle this situation either. She clung to the belief that all they had to do was get through this first, awkward flight and they’d be back on track. Last night would be forgotten, an aberration never to be repeated.

  She wouldn’t have messed up irreversibly, and no one ever needed to mention it again.

  She climbed into the pilot’s seat, fastening her own seat belt. Then she went through her preflight routine. Collective and throttle friction off, check the range of the cyclic, fuel valve open . . . Once the overhead rotor was whirring and she was satisfied with all her instrument readings, she checked to ensure Garret was seated and belted in before she took off. Their gazes clashed in the mirror, and she realized he’d been watching her. He quickly looked away, but not before she’d seen the coolness in his eyes. The discomfort.

  Heat climbed into her face as she lifted the collective and opened up the throttle. The Bell lifted into a hover and she automatically went through her hover check.

  It was one thing to recognize that what she and Garret had done last night was both foolish and inappropriate, but it was another thing to look into his eyes and see nothing but regret.

  This is why people don’t sleep with their bosses. Just a little note for future reference.

  Sierra spent the next few moments doing everything by the book as she asked for clearance from the tower, did another visual check, and then opened up the throttle. Only when the prickly-hot feeling of embarrassment had dissipated did she let herself think of anything other than the job at hand.

  It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that there was nothing she could do if Garret chose to view last night’s encounter as a big mistake. He felt the way he felt. Did it sting a little that he felt that way? Oh, yes. But she’d been wallowing in regret today too. For some reason it was so much easier to remember all the reasons why sleeping with each other was a bad idea after the event.

  Genius, really. She blamed the fog of hormones, which was only marginally less dangerous than the fog of war, apparently.

  As she’d promised, the tailwind gave them a helpful boost and they arrived at the Tate ranch five minutes ahead of schedule. Sierra set the Bell down and switched the engine off. Then she braced herself for more cool politeness before climbing out of the helicopter.

  Garret was gathering papers together and putting them back into his briefcase when she opened the door to the passenger cabin. She kept her face as neutral as she could while she waited, every muscle in her body tense with the awkwardness of the situation. Then one of the documents Garret was wrangling slipped free, gliding across the cabin to land near the door. Wanting to be helpful, she immediately leaned in to collect it.

  “I got it,” Garret said, his tone crisp.

  Feeling as though she’d just had her hand slapped, she moved back as far as she could and still hold the door open. Seconds later Garret exited the Bell, offering her a brusque “thanks” accompanied by zero eye contact as he headed for the house. Sierra stared after him for a beat, almost wishing she’d stayed in her room last night.

  She turned to give the cabin her usual scan to make sure everything was in order before hangaring the Bell. The glint of light bouncing off something shiny caught her eye where Garret had been sitting. His phone must have slipped from his pocket.

  She climbed in quickly and grabbed it. Garret was almost at the front door, and she took off after him at a jog.

  “Garret.”

  He stilled and turned toward her, and she held his phone up to let him know he’d left it behind. He watched her jog the remaining few feet, his face even tighter and more closed off than before.

  “Found it down the side of the—”

  “Thanks,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Sierra blinked at his abrupt rudeness. Then she handed the phone over.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, the usual time,” he said, turning away.

  “Am I going to lose my job?” The words popped out before she could stop them.

  He froze, then turned back toward her. “Of course not.”

  “Are you angry with me? Is this a blame thing we’ve got going on right now?” She was already knee-deep in this, might as well go for broke. If she’d been cast as the seductive vixen in this little drama, she wanted to know about it.

  He frowned. “Why would I blame you for something I did?”

  Her shoulders relaxed fractionally at his words. “So this is a guilt thing? We both got naked last night, Garret. Neither of us is married. At least, I’m not and I figured you would have mentioned it at some point if you were . . .”

  “I’m not married, but I employ you. I shouldn’t have crossed the line.” He said it so sternly, his body rigid with the strength of his conviction.

  “I crossed the line too. And I’ve got more to lose than you. If you’re worried that I felt coerced in any way, shape, or form, get that idea out of your head. I wanted what happened just as much as you did. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

  They stared at each other, and it was impossible not to think about the way he’d held her gaze last night while he fucked her with his hand.

  She pushed the memory away.

  “Look, I had a really good time, and I think you did too,” she said. “We obviously had some pent-up sexual tension to deal with. But we’ve dealt with it, right? It’s gone now. We don’t need to walk around wearing matching hair shirts and whipping ourselves.” She paused. “Unless you’re into that, of course.”

  His mouth twitched, just enough to let her know her words had gotten through.

  “Sorry for being an asshole,” he said after a moment.

  “You need a little work before you reach asshole status,” she said lightly. “You were borderline douchey, at best. Perfectly acceptable for most captain of industry types.”

  He smiled for real then, his face lighting up momentarily. “My apology still stands.”

  “Accepted.”

  His eyes were warm as they scanned her face. “I feel like you’re giving me a free pass here, but I’m going to take it.”

  “Frame it and hang it on the wall. It’s all yours.” She took a step backward. “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomor
row.”

  She made herself turn and walk away then, because she could feel herself looking for excuses to stay and keep him talking. That wasn’t going to happen. They’d made their one, glorious mistake, and they weren’t going to go there again.

  Her stride long and sure, she headed back to the hangar put the Bell to bed for the weekend.

  *

  Garret let himself into his parents’ house and dumped his keys and phone on the hall table. He called out but wasn’t surprised when no one answered—his mother spent every spare second she had by his father’s side these days.

  He loosened his tie as he made his way to his bedroom. He had time to change before driving in to the hospital, but instead of stripping his clothes he sank onto the end of the bed.

  He’d handled everything with Sierra really badly, snapping at her, avoiding unnecessary eye contact. As though she’d done something wrong.

  Was it any wonder she’d confronted him and asked what was going on?

  If you’re worried that I felt coerced in any way, shape, or form, get that idea out of your head. I wanted what happened just as much as you did.

  Her bold, up-front declaration had gone a long way toward making him feel less guilty about last night, but he still wasn’t ready to let himself off the hook. In many ways, it didn’t matter that she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. He should have known better.

  He did know better.

  But maybe continuing to give himself a hard time over it wasn’t the most productive thing he could be doing right now. Maybe he needed to cut himself a little slack. His life had just imploded, and Sierra was off-the-charts sexy. Was it that big of a surprise that he’d given in to instinct where she was concerned?

  Either way, he couldn’t undo it, so there was no point wasting any more energy on regretting what had happened. He’d simply have to take her at her word and make sure he never went there again.

  He surged to his feet on the thought and toed off his shoes. Five minutes later he was letting himself out the door and striding to the garage. He was about to climb behind the wheel of his father’s SUV when he spotted the dust-covered shape of his motorcycle against the far wall.

  The thought of taking the Ducati into town, blowing the cobwebs away, was hugely appealing. He crossed to the bike and pulled the dustcover off, then deftly reconnected the battery. The keys were in the cabinet built into the wall, and he threw a leg over the bike before holding his breath and starting the motor. It had been five months since he’d ridden the bike—hence the battery being disconnected—but it started on the first try, the engine thrumming to life between his legs. Gratified, he swapped his casual jacket for the leather bike jacket hanging on a hook on the wall, then donned his helmet.

  He coasted down the drive in second gear. The road was clear in both directions when he reached it, and he opened up the throttle. The Ducati took off with a feline snarl, inertia tugging him backward as he shot down the road.

  He indulged his need for speed for a minute or two, then throttled back to the legal limit. The few minutes of intense focus and adrenaline had done the trick, however, and he felt more clear-headed when he arrived at the hospital.

  He stowed his helmet on the bike, then went into the hospital and asked for directions to the rehabilitation unit. His mother was waiting already when he arrived at the rehabilitation director’s office, sitting with a sporty-looking redhead in her late thirties.

  “Garret,” his mother said chidingly when she took in his motorcycle jacket. “I thought you’d given up on that death machine.”

  “Nope,” he said, then addressed himself to the woman. “I’m Garret. Good to meet you.”

  “Kathleen,” she said with a smile. “Grab a seat.”

  He didn’t miss the quick, appraising head to toe she gave him as he settled into the remaining guest chair. She was an attractive woman, but nowhere near as sexy and appealing as Sierra.

  It was a dumb comparison, and he kept a careful rein on his wandering thoughts for the next forty minutes as they went through the arrangements his mother had put in place to facilitate his father continuing his rehabilitation at home. He’d done his best to stay abreast of the constant stream of emails his mother had shot him during the week, but he was impressed by how on top of it all she was, spouting off acronyms and discussing the merits of various pieces of equipment and therapies with Kathleen as though she was an old hand.

  “I’ll come out and take a look at your setup once you’ve had the bathroom altered, but it sounds like you’ve got a really good grip on it,” Kathleen said. “I do want to warn you that I really want Gideon to reach certain markers before we send him home. I know you want to have him home with you as soon as possible, but I would be doing him a disservice if we discharged him too early.”

  “I understand. Gideon might not, but I’ll tell him he’s just going to have to suck it up,” his mother said with a determined smile.

  Afterward, he waited in the corridor while his mom said her goodbyes to Kathleen, who she’d obviously struck up a friendship with.

  “Look at you, winning over hearts and minds,” he said as his mother joined him.

  “You get more flies with honey than vinegar,” his mother said. “And she’s a smart lady. We need all the smart people we can get on our side.”

  “How’s Dad today?”

  “Tired. They did a double therapy session, and it took a lot out of him. He was already drifting off when I left him to come here. I’m just going to pop my head in to check with his nurses and then head home. So don’t feel as though you need to hang around.”

  Garret frowned, caught short by the announcement. He’d mentally allocated his evening to visiting his father.

  “Why don’t you catch up with a friend? You’ve been working nonstop. Take some time for yourself.”

  “I might just crash, actually,” he said.

  It wasn’t as though he’d gotten a lot of sleep last night.

  “How are things at the business?” his mother asked. “It must be hectic, with Ron walking out the way he did.”

  He paused, but the corridor of a busy hospital wasn’t the place to disclose what he’d uncovered. And his suspicions hadn’t been confirmed yet. He’d already decided there was no point adding to his mother’s burdens until he fully understood what he was dealing with and nothing had changed to make him revise that decision. “I’m getting there. Slowly.”

  “Ron called again this morning, but I just let it go through to message bank like all of his other calls.”

  “Good. The lawyers are handling everything, and you don’t need him raging at you right now,” Garret said.

  “I still can’t believe he walked out like that. It’s so out of character for him.”

  “I’m sure he had his reasons,” he said.

  “Well, I’ll see you back at the house later.”

  He kissed her goodbye and walked slowly through the hospital to the main entrance. He wasn’t surprised Ron was still trying to find a way to talk to his father. The other man was deluded in the extreme and didn’t seem to understand that even if Gideon wanted to overrule Garret, he couldn’t right now. Not when Garret’s mother had used her medical power of attorney to appoint Garret as Gideon’s replacement.

  Twilight had fallen while he was in the hospital, the air soft and warm on his face as he exited. He shrugged into his leather jacket, then threw his leg over the bike. The sounds of the world deadened as he pulled on his helmet and started up the engine.

  His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had dinner yet, and he decided to grab something from the diner rather than defrost yet another meal at home. He was lucky enough to score a spot right out front and he parked and went inside.

  The Main Street Diner never seemed to change—it had had the same exposed brick walls and red vinyl booths since he was a kid, the same music playing on the jukebox.

  Hokey, maybe, but there was something reassuring about its depe
ndable consistency, especially when the rest of his life was in the toilet.

  There was an empty stool at the end of the counter and he slid onto it and reached for a menu, even though he was pretty sure he was going to go for a cheeseburger. He was trying to decide between a chocolate shake or a soda with his meal when a sense of being watched had him lifting his head.

  A slim woman with a blond pixie cut was staring at him with blatant interest from the booth in the far corner, looking him over like he was a side of prime beef. She was pretty cute, and the colorful, abstract tattoo on her forearm gave her an edgy, artsy vibe, but—again—she was no Sierra.

  Really gotta stop doing the Sierra comparison thing, man.

  He returned his attention to the menu, but the sense of being watched was like an itch on the back of his neck and he found himself glancing toward the far booth again—just in time to see Sierra’s head duck back behind the booth wall.

  Speak of the devil.

  The blonde woman was laughing, and it wasn’t hard to work out that she was teasing Sierra for getting busted. She glanced toward him again, her gaze speculative, and he shifted his focus back to the menu.

  Sierra was over there, just a few feet away. Under any other circumstances—say, if he hadn’t slept with her last night—he’d go over and say hi. Hell, he might even join her and her friend if they invited him to eat with them. Sharing another meal with her would hands down be the highlight of his day.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now.

  “Evening. What can I get you?” the waitress asked, a young woman he guessed was not long out of high school.

  “I’ll grab a cheeseburger to go, thanks.”

  “Any fries with that?”

  “Just the burger, thanks.”

  “Coffee while you wait?” she asked, jug poised above the mug at his place setting.

  “Thanks. That’d be great.”

  She poured, then moved off to serve other customers, and Garret pulled out his phone to try to stop himself from checking on Sierra and her friend again. It didn’t stop him from wondering who the blonde was as he stared blankly at his email inbox. She didn’t look familiar, but then he hadn’t lived in Marietta for years now, so he was woefully out of touch.