A Real Cowboy Always Trusts His Heart

by Stephanie Rowe

  "Of course I did." He shifted the bags. "You left your door open?" he asked, trying not to sound as pissed as he was.

  "I was just dropping a few boxes off in the recycling." She smiled. "Come on in." As she spoke, she slipped past him, her shoulder brushing against his chest.

  His reaction to her touch was sudden, instant, and visceral, a cruel stab of desire so fierce that he had to close his eyes to fight it off. Jesus.

  He stepped back, gripping the grocery bags tighter. He hadn't expected to react this way when he'd headed over here this morning to help her unpack. Seeing her at Lissa's café had been emotional, but he'd been in protector mode, determined to do whatever he needed to keep her safe. In that moment, she'd been his Zoey, the one he took care of.

  But when she'd touched him just now, everything had changed.

  He hadn't expected his heart to start hammering, or for his fists to clench, or for such need to crash over him. The need to hear her voice, to see the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, to run his fingers through her hair, to fall asleep under the stars with her in his arms…like the old days…only with deep, intimate kissing and so much more.

  Shit.

  He could not do that to her.

  He was there as her friend, as the only person she'd ever been able to lean on during her hellacious childhood, someone with whom she'd shared the secrets that she hadn't even been able to tell her own brother. He was not there as a man who wanted to taste her lips, trail his kisses down her neck, and bury his hands in her hair.

  Ryder had promised he wouldn't show up as her accidental, one-night-of-hellacious-decision-making ex-lover. He needed to be the man who wanted nothing from her, other than to be the friend she so desperately needed. He needed to be there as a comrade she could trust and lean on while she rebuilt her life. But as he stood on that crappy landing, watching her cross the threadbare carpet of her new home, he realized that as much as he'd wanted her when they were teenagers, it was a thousand times more now.

  He wanted her now. He wanted her thoroughly kissed, naked, and his.

  Fuck.

  He knew from Dane how much she'd been through, and there was no way he was going to betray her by crossing that line that he'd torn through so long ago.

  But he knew there was no way he could walk into her apartment right now, not with the way he was reacting to her. There was no fucking way he could shut down the need thundering through him right now. He hadn't prepared for this response to her. It was time to bail, and regroup—

  She paused in the middle of her living room, looking back at him. "You're not coming in?" There was an edge to her voice, a tightness, as if she was already preparing for him to disappoint her again.

  If he had any sense of decency, he'd drop the groceries, get back in his truck, and leave. He'd walk away now, and she'd never have to deal with him again, and he wouldn't have to fight off the intense need pounding through him. He could do that.

  But if he did…if he walked away…wouldn’t that be a second betrayal?

  She needed him now. He knew that. His job was to be there for her, not to let his own need for her drive the wedge more firmly between them. Shit.

  Her expression cooled and became distant. "Never mind. It's fine." She turned away, walking back into her kitchen. "You can leave the groceries by the door."

  The moment she gave up on him, he knew he had no choice. He stepped forward, out of the sunlight, and into the darkness of her apartment.

  Chapter Four

  "I think I'm officially old." Zoey set her hands on her hips and bent over, trying to work out the cramps in her lower back. "Twelve hours of unpacking is too much."

  "It's been a hell of a day." Ryder set another box on her kitchen counter. "We're making good progress, though."

  She eyed him as he ripped it open, his biceps flexing. He'd been working like a man on a mission all day, barely pausing to eat or talk. She would have quit hours ago, but how could she pass out on her couch while he was still working on her stuff?

  There was still so much to unpack, despite the twelve-hour day, mostly because the majority of the day hadn't been spent unpacking. Ryder had taken one look at the outlets in the kitchen, declared them unsafe, and that had been it. He'd spent half the morning rewiring the outlets so they were all grounded. Then he'd put a new deadbolt on the front door, and special locks on the windows that opened onto the landing.

  After that? He'd reinforced the frame on the front door so no one would be able to break in, and then he'd fixed the drain in the bathroom so it would actually drain. The whole time, he'd been muttering about her being in an unsafe situation.

  His help had made her feel better, because who wouldn't feel better with Ryder Stockton in protector mode? But at the same time, his deep concern about her safety had gotten in her head and started to freak her out that an axe murderer was going to hack his way into her apartment and chop her up as soon as she fell asleep tonight.

  While Ryder was stalking around the apartment with a hammer, the idea of an axe murderer didn't seem so scary, but she knew that once she was lying in bed alone, being hunted by a rusted blade wouldn't feel quite so special.

  And in truth, despite the fact that she felt safer having him there, it had been uncomfortably awkward working with him. They were like polite strangers, careful not to bump into each other, or say the wrong thing, and she hated it. She'd needed her friend tonight, not this guy that was practically a stranger. A decade apart had put a rift between them that she hadn't expected, and she was exhausted trying to deal with it.

  They'd ordered pizza over an hour ago, and she was nearly in tears waiting for it to show up and give her an excuse to sit down, take a break, and then kick him out. She was exhausted, cranky, and at the end of her ability to cope.

  She glanced at him, then grimaced when she saw him lift a stack of plates, making his damned biceps flex again.

  And she couldn’t lie to herself. Half the tension gripping her so tightly was because she couldn’t stop noticing the thickness of his whiskers, the beautiful richness of his voice as he muttered to himself, or the way the muscles rippled in his back as he hammered on the front door. She couldn't help but notice the strength of his forearms, or the blue of his eyes, or the way he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking.

  She didn't want to notice. Damn him for being so incredibly sexy and mouth-wateringly male.

  Ryder paused suddenly, a stack of plates in his hands. "Are you okay?"

  She cleared her throat and stood up a little taller. "Fine. Just tired." And sexually frustrated, but who was going to admit that? Not her. She pulled a picture of her parents out of a box, and bit her lip, because looking at a picture of her long-dead parents was exactly the uplifting kick-in-the-ass she so desperately needed right now.

  He studied her for another minute, then set down the plates. "Sit."

  She lifted her chin and looked around, trying to find an open surface to set the picture on. "No, I'm fine."

  "Sit. I got this."

  She slanted an irritated glance at him. "I'm not going to sit while you work on my stuff—"

  "You're tired." He pointed at the couch. "Sit, or I'll make you."

  Her heart jumped at the thought of him tackling her to the couch, like he'd done plenty of times when they were younger, before the night when everything had changed for them. What would it be like if he did it now? His body would be hard and strong against hers, and the way his fingers would wrap around her wrists—

  His eyes darkened. "Don't look at me like that, Zoey. I'm not made of steel."

  She sucked in her breath. "Like what?" Dear God. Had she been that obvious?

  "You're looking at me like—" A knock at the door interrupted him. "Food's here. I'll get that. You take a seat." He headed toward the door, leaving his sentence unfinished.

  What had he meant by that? Was he having as much trouble as she was, being so close to each other? She'd meant it when she said he could
help her only as friends, but she'd been so aware of him all day as a man, as an incredibly sexy, tempting man who had once held every piece of her heart in his hands. But what if he still remembered what it was like to kiss her? What if he still thought about how it had felt to be in each other's arms? What if he hadn't forgotten either?

  Her heart started to hammer, and she clenched the photograph more tightly, watching as he opened the door and pulled out his wallet, acting like he lived there. He paid the delivery guy, then walked back across the room with the pizza and drinks. He raised his brows as he neared. "You going to eat standing up?"

  "No." She quickly set the photo back into an open box and sank down onto the couch. The kitchen table was piled high with items that hadn't found a home yet, so the only available flat surface for the pizza was the couch.

  She'd tried to put most of her things in storage, but she'd brought with her everything that really mattered to her, the things that she didn't want left in some storage unit two thousand miles away. But as disciplined as she'd tried to be about what she'd brought with her, there was still way more than her tiny apartment could accommodate. She was overwhelmed with the sheer amount of stuff, and the lack of places for all of it to go.

  It was clutter, disarray, and chaos.

  And possibly axe murderers.

  And definitely a man who was too damn sexy for anyone's good.

  Ryder set the pizza and drinks on the table, and then sat down next to her.

  The couch shifted under his weight, tilting her toward him.

  She made herself lean away from him as she grabbed a paper plate and slid a piece of pizza onto it. "Thanks for buying dinner."

  "No problem." He tossed several slices onto his plate, then bent over the coffee table, eating silently.

  The silence was heavy between them, growing in tension as they ate. The only sound was the thud of music from the apartment next door, along with the steady rumble of male voices as they partied, just like they had the night before.

  Maybe the axe murderer would come from there. That would be fun. He'd be all hopped up on cheap keg beer, nicotine, and frat-boy mentality. That was definitely the best kind of axe murderer to be killed by, right?

  She glanced at Ryder, but his face was stoic. He appeared to be completely focused on the pizza, entirely unaffected by how close they were sitting.

  She couldn't think of anything to say to break the silence. How did she pretend to care about the weather or some other mundane topic when there was so much tension between them?

  Ryder suddenly put down his pizza and turned to face her. "I don't like it."

  She blinked. "The pizza?"

  "You living here."

  Something inside her shrank. "In town? You're mad that I'm back?"

  "No. Shit, no. I don't like you living here." He gestured at the living room. "This apartment complex isn't safe. The guys next door are trouble. They've been playing poker and drinking all night."

  Oh. That. Yeah, she'd been pretty crushed when she'd driven up last night. Moving from a beautiful condo to here had not been the uplifting homecoming she'd been hoping for. "The pictures were much nicer online."

  "They couldn't have been that nice." He cocked his head, studying her. "What happened to your money? You're a lawyer back in Boston, right? Why don't you have the money for something better than this?"

  She stiffened. "My financial situation isn't your concern."

  He ran his hand through his hair. "I know, but this wasn't how it was supposed to be."

  She narrowed her eyes. "How what was supposed to be?"

  "Your life. You were so smart. So talented. So alive. You were supposed to get out of this town and have a life worthy of you." He searched her face. "What happened, ZoeyBear? How did you wind up here?"

  She pressed her lips together, suddenly not hungry. There was so much to say, so much that it left nothing that she wanted to talk about. "Life happens."

  "It shouldn't happen to you."

  Anger suddenly flared inside her. "Well, it did."

  He studied her. "Tell me about it. Tell me what happened after you left here."

  She hesitated, surprised by his question. "Didn't Dane tell you?"

  "A few things. Not much. Not enough to fill a decade." Something inscrutable flickered in his eyes. "I know you got married."

  Her throat tightened. "And divorced," she said quickly, somehow needing to make that clear to him.

  "Why'd you get divorced?"

  She looked down at her pizza. "I don't want to talk about it. Let it go, Ryder."

  He was silent for a moment, then he set his hand on the back of her neck, his fingers rubbing gently. "ZoeyBear," he said softly. "Talk to me."

  Tears threatened at the feel of his hand on her. It felt so good that she wanted to cry. It had been so long since a man had touched her that way, out of kindness, out of affection, out of comfort. "We met in college," she said quietly, "and decided early on not to have kids so we could focus on our careers." She closed her eyes so she could concentrate on Ryder's touch grounding her. "I worked my ass off, and I thought he was doing the same. As it turned out, he was the stereotype. Long nights at the office were actually being spent with another woman."

  Ryder's fingers tightened on her neck. "Bastard."

  "He got her pregnant, and they were both so delighted that he divorced me as fast as he could so he could marry her before the baby was born." She'd never forget that moment when he'd walked into their condo late that night. He'd looked so happy, happier than she'd ever seen him. "He was glowing with joy when he told me he was leaving me and why. He said his only regret was that he'd married me in the first place and wasted as many years of his life on me as he had."

  God, those words had hurt.

  They still hurt.

  The fact that he was a bastard pig was surprisingly unhelpful in disempowering those words from biting deep.

  And then what had happened after that? God, she'd been so stupid to trust him.

  "Oh, babe." Ryder wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.

  She didn't resist, burying her face in his neck, fighting back the waves of loneliness and grief from that night. Ryder's body was hard and warm against hers, and she could smell that same amazing scent he'd always had, that one that made something inside her breathe deeply and relax.

  He kissed the top of her head, just as he'd done so many times before, and it felt just as good. "I missed you," she whispered. "I needed you."

  "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he said, brushing a kiss over her forehead. "I had no idea you were going through that. I would have beat the shit out of him if I'd known."

  She laughed softly against his chest at the thought of Ryder storming into their law firm and knocking the shit out of Nathan, in his fancy suit and polished shoes. "He would've had you arrested."

  "That's fine. Totally worth it." He kissed her forehead again. "When did this happen?"

  "About a year ago. I tried to stay there, to keep going, but then I found out that he…" She cut herself off, not wanting to admit how stupid she'd been. "It just made sense to get away from everything for a bit," she said instead. But even as she said it, her voice started to tremble, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't have anything left," she whispered. "I feel like there's just this big, empty darkness inside me that I can't shake, and it scares me."

  Ryder's arms tightened around her. "You got this."

  The words couldn't reach her heart. "Not this time."

  "Yeah, you do." He pulled back, cupping her jaw with his fingers as he studied her face. "So beautiful," he whispered.

  Her heart started to hammer as she stared at him. He was so close to her, his lips only inches from hers. She wanted him to kiss her so badly. To envelop her in his strength, like he had so long ago. To be her magical fairytale hero and sweep her away.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his eyes darkened.

  She didn't move, afraid to breathe
.

  He looked back into her eyes, the blue depths of his gaze stormy and turbulent.

  It was the same as that moment on her prom night, when all the tension that had been mounting between them came to a head, hovering on a precipice, waiting for them to retreat or grab each other's hands and jump.

  They'd jumped.

  And they'd crashed.

  She couldn't survive another crash, especially not with him. "Don't," she whispered. "Don't kiss me."

  He swore under his breath and closed his eyes. "I'm not going to." He gently set her back to her side of the couch. "Let's call it a night. We're both beat."

  She nodded, biting her lip against the need to protest. "That's probably a good plan. My back is killing me."

  His gaze flicked to her back, as if he wanted to offer to rub it for her.

  "I'll take some ibuprofen," she said quickly. "We unpacked that, at least."

  "Yeah." He hesitated another moment, then stood up. "I have meetings in the morning, but I'll come by tomorrow afternoon to help you finish. Around two?"

  "You'll still be in town?" Lissa had said he didn't live in town anymore. "When do you leave?" Fear gripped her. She'd just found him again. She wasn't ready to let him go yet. At the same time, she needed him to leave before she got too dependent on him and forgot that she'd come here to find her own strength, not to lean on anyone else's anymore.

  He grabbed his cowboy hat from the back of a kitchen chair. "Chase coerced me into being the general contractor for a new barn he wants to build on the ranch. I'll be in town a lot over the next six months."

  Her heart thudded, and she wasn't sure if she was happy about that, or super upset. "Where are you staying?"

  "A house down by the river. I'm away this weekend, then back a couple days next week, and then away. I have a few other projects I'm managing in addition to this one, so I'll be in and out."

  "Oh." She didn't know what she thought of that. A part of her was so glad to have him around, but a deeper part of her wanted him as far away as possible. God, it was so complicated with him. So many mixed-up emotions.