The Cowboy’s Mistake

by Jackson, Mary Sue

  She yawned again. “I should have known you’d insist on doing everything yourself.”

  A minute later the couch was swathed in sheets and a comfortable blanket. Charity dug through her bag and came up with her toothbrush, heading for the bathroom as Trey fluffed the pillow.

  How had this day been so exhausting? Maybe it was just being so close to Trey that had done her in. That would make sense. She couldn’t take her mind off of him while she brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face. Charity wanted him to notice her. This holding back—this not kissing him—was still the prudent choice, probably. Or perhaps she was just afraid that if she made a clear, unmistakable, unbrush-off-able move, his walls would finally crumble. Then where would they be?

  Trey had been a part of her family for almost as long as she could remember. If anything happened between them, they’d never be able to go back to being just friends. It would probably be impossible to pretend nothing had happened between them if it all went south.

  Not that there was anything happening to go south.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Charity tapped her toothbrush on the sink and took it back out to the living room with her. Trey still hovered near the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. “Did you need anything else?” he asked.

  A third yawn threatened to overtake her. “Just sleep,” she said. And you.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, kiddo.”

  He didn’t look back on his way up the stairs.

  Charity lay down on the couch, pulling the sheets and blankets over her. It was a comfortable couch. And even though Trey was so close, she found herself falling quickly to sleep.

  * * *

  She woke up before he did. Or, if he was up, he wasn’t making any noise upstairs.

  After a good night’s sleep, Charity felt refreshed and hopeful. She put on some coffee in the kitchen and soon after it started to perk, Trey came down. He looked as ready to face the day as she did.

  “Let’s go visit our new horse,” he told her after they’d finished with breakfast.

  That sent a little shiver of pleasure down her spine. Our horse.

  Trey brought Kepler out of the barn, and they took him out to one of the paddocks. The sun was up over the horizon and warm, and Charity and Trey fell into a rhythm with the horse.

  Kepler still seemed to like the two of them, and by the end of the morning, they had him in a saddle and taking some experimental trots around the paddock with Charity guiding him with a gentle hand. Trey caught his reins after the last turn and helped her down.

  “He’s done well,” he said, his touch on her arm lingering.

  “You think?” Charity felt the pressure of the circuit schedule bearing down on her already. She wouldn’t rush Kepler, but still…she wanted to be out there with her new partner.

  “Yes. But not well enough to be in front of a crowd.”

  Charity led the horse back toward the barn. “No, I’d think not. At least, not yet. It’s a good thing I don’t have anything scheduled for a couple of months.”

  Once they’d put Kepler in the barn, Trey turned to her, a strange look on his face. “Are you staying for lunch?”

  She shrugged, trying to remain casual. “Sure. As long as it doesn’t go too long. I know you have other sessions this afternoon.”

  “Okay then,” he said, after a beat. “Come eat with me.”

  * * *

  Charity didn’t leave after lunch. He was under no illusion that she would. By the time they were clearing the dishes off the table her excitement was palpable.

  “Do you think Kepler could handle a few more hours of work?” It was clear she wanted the answer to be yes.

  Trey thought about it. “Sure. We’ll play it by ear, and see how it goes.”

  She stayed the rest of the afternoon, out in the sun with Kepler. The horse was a good sport about training and did, in fact, have a few more hours left in him for the day. Trey’s stomach was growling by the time they called it quits.

  It only seemed natural to ask her to dinner, too.

  “Might as well make it a three-meal day together,” Charity joked, elbowing him in the side.

  They lingered over burgers and fries Trey had in the freezer, and when the food was gone, there was a pause. She looked at him over the table, those blue eyes shining, and then they both stood up at the same time to take their plates to the sink.

  Charity took his from his hand. “I can wash up.”

  “If you think I’m letting you stand in my kitchen and do the dishes by yourself, you’re crazy.”

  She grabbed a dishrag from the front of the stove and tossed it to him. “You can dry, cowboy.”

  It felt good, standing next to her at the sink, taking the plates from her hands, then the cups, and then finally the pan and silverware. When it was done, Charity let the water drain out of the sink and wiped the suds away.

  Trey stood there holding the towel, honestly not wanting the moment to be over. She was so close that her body warmed the air between them.

  Charity turned toward him, reaching for the towel, and he held it out for her to dry her hands. It was surprisingly intimate, that touch through the tower, and his body jolted into a fierce attraction. As if she sensed it, Charity looked up at him through her eyelashes.

  Once again, they were close enough to kiss.

  She dropped her hands from the towel. “I wanted to thank you. For agreeing to train Kepler. You’re the best man for the job, and I know you already had a lot on your plate, so it…it means a lot to me, Trey.”

  Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. His arms went around her waist by instinct, and then he had his nose buried in her hair.

  This time, when Charity tilted her head back for a kiss, he couldn’t deny her.

  It was easy, the kiss. It was so easy, their lips coming together like they’d practiced this a thousand times before. Charity’s were soft and yielding beneath his, and it wasn’t more than a few moments before she parted those lips and let his tongue inside her mouth. The little noise she made in the back of her throat urged him on and she pressed into him, her body all lean muscles and soft curves against his. He felt like he’d won the lottery.

  Oh, he’d wanted this. He’d wanted her

  A moment later, the doubt crashed into him, and he stiffened. Charity pulled back, shaking her head. “I’m—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, and—”

  “No.” He wouldn’t let her take the blame for something they’d both chosen. He was a grown man. She was a grown woman. They were the only people who could agree to this, or say no to it, and he was sick of saying no. The urge to say yes coursed through him so strongly he thought he’d die if he didn’t kiss her again, right now.

  He leaned down, pulling her in closer, and claimed her soft lips with his own. With a little moan she opened her mouth for him and let him explore her tongue, her bottom lip…

  It was too much.

  “Is this what you really want?” She’d pulled back enough to whisper the question against his mouth.

  “Yes.” That was the only answer. “Yes.”

  Then she was like a wildcat, coming in close and hot and hard. Suddenly the clothes they were both wearing felt like a crime, an absolute crime, and he took her shirt by the hem and whipped it over her head. It landed in the empty sink. Charity didn’t bother to look at where it had gone. She was reaching for his own shirt. Her pants came off first, and then his, scattered all over the kitchen—his were flung with such force that they knocked some of the dishes from the drying rack to the floor.

  He lifted Charity in his arms, her ass onto the counter, and there was so much heat and friction between them that it seemed to wipe everything else from his brain. There was no hesitation. None. He pushed into her, letting himself sink into her tight, wet center, and she let out a gasp that told him exactly how much she had wanted this.

  It was wild, it was impulsive, an
d the counter itself seemed sexy until it didn’t, until there wasn’t enough room to spread her out beneath him and do everything he wanted with her. So, still inside her, he carried her to the bedroom and leaned them both onto the bed.

  Charity urged him on, her hands desperate on his shoulders. “Please, please…” And his body knew what she was asking for. As she clenched around him and cried out, his own release overtook him and it felt like a sunrise, it felt like a new day, it felt like the world was bursting into technicolor desire.

  Trey never wanted it to stop. Not ever.

  She lay underneath him panting for a few minutes, and he thought it might be over. But then she turned her face toward him again, sucked his bottom lip between her teeth, and released it. “Again, Trey,” she begged. “Again. More.”

  “All right,” he said against her collarbone, pressing a kiss there.

  And he gave her what she asked for.

  Five

  The first thing Trey felt when he woke up was awe.

  Morning light streamed through his bedroom window, casting a golden glow over the bed. And sleeping in his bed was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Her blonde hair was spread out over the pillow in a sensual tangle, and she breathed softly and evenly. The sheet had fallen down over her waist.

  It was all a hell of a view.

  He reveled in it for a long moment, and then the guilt crashed into him like a cannonball.

  What had he been thinking?

  This was exactly the scenario he’d been afraid of. This had been the reason it was a bad idea to work together in the first place. He’d known this would happen, and now…

  It was all broken between them. Irreparably broken. That much was obvious.

  He had to get out of there.

  Trey pushed himself up on one elbow, prepared to slip out from between the blankets and head to work with the horses—somewhere, anywhere far from here—but the motion woke her up.

  Charity’s eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a slow smile. Even while his stomach churned with guilt, he still wanted her so badly, oh, it was like a bell ringing next to his head, and he recoiled from the feeling. How? How could he be considering it?

  He sat up so quickly she startled, blinking. “Trey?”

  “This was a mistake.” The words were so harsh that his own voice didn’t seem like his. “An enormous mistake.”

  “What? No, it—we both wanted this.” She pulled the sheet up over her breasts. He tore his eyes away from the motion. “Nobody else is here. You can admit that you enjoyed yourself.” She tried to smile at him again, but he looked away, got to his feet, and stalked toward the dresser.

  “I haven’t been with a woman in a while. I was…vulnerable last night.” He wasn’t watching to see how the words landed, but he knew she’d read his meaning. He was implying that any woman could have seduced him last night.

  Charity didn’t have anything to say to that. He rifled through his dresser drawers and heard her feet hit the ground. In the mirror on top of his dresser he saw her walk quickly behind him.

  That’s right—her clothes were still in the kitchen.

  He dressed himself in a clean outfit, then ran his hand through his hair. Work. He had to get to work. There was no way he’d hide out in the bedroom until he was sure she was gone, so he forced himself to go down the stairs.

  Charity was standing at the bottom, her expression vacillating between shock and a stoic look that nearly broke his heart. She put her hand on the door handle, then turned back to him.

  “Will you still work with Kepler?” She was shaken—he could tell by the hint of a lisp when she said still.

  She kept those blue eyes on his, but he could see her tears welling up. “I made an agreement,” he said gruffly. “I’m not going to go back on that.”

  Charity nodded, her chin quivering slightly, and turned and walked out the door.

  Trey leaned against the wall and covered his face with his hands, shutting out the world. A new wave of guilt surged through him, hot and painful, over having hurt her. But he didn’t call her back. This was the right thing to do. He had to shut it down now, before it got any worse.

  Well, he’d done that.

  He went to the door and watched her cross the driveway to where she’d parked her truck before the auction. Trey clenched his fists, holding himself back. He wanted to run after her and explain why they couldn’t be together. He wanted to explain the guilt that tore through him like a knife over having betrayed her brother’s trust. But he was afraid that if he said any of that to her, she might realize that, deep in his heart, he didn’t quite believe that it was wrong. And he didn’t think Charity believed it was wrong, either. That was why it was safest to just let her leave.

  Her little red truck rumbled across his driveway, and he slapped his open palm against the doorframe. Trey was furious at himself for letting things go this far, even though it was what he’d wanted and dreamed about for years.

  He turned away from the door and headed for the shower.

  It was time to get to work.

  That was all he had left.

  * * *

  The chores didn’t take his mind off Charity.

  He mucked out Kepler’s stall to a ridiculous degree, until a person could have lived in it, and then put the horse through his paces out in the paddock until both of them were sweating. Kepler was starting to get used to him, nuzzling his palm whenever he called an end to an exercise. He couldn’t help feeling proud at the job well done, and at all the progress Kepler had made in two short days…but it was a hollow victory, without Charity there.

  He felt her absence every moment. She should be out here in the field with both of them, praising Kepler for his work and celebrating their successes.

  It was as if his own thoughts caused Kepler to realize she wasn’t there. The horse bowed its head and walked sadly over to the fence, disengaging entirely. And no matter what Trey did, he couldn’t convince him to come back out into the grass.

  “All right, buddy. We’ll be done for now.” He patted Kepler’s mane and opened the gate out of the paddock. Kepler followed him out. “Are you missing Charity?”

  The horse didn’t answer, of course, but the next thing Trey felt was the weight of Kepler’s head on his shoulder. He had other horses to train, other stalls to clean, but he did feel badly for Kepler.

  It wasn’t insane to think the horse could feel the same yawning absence.

  He reached up and patted the side of his face. “I miss her too.”

  * * *

  Charity had only spent one night in his bed, but Trey felt her absence there as keenly as he’d felt it out in the paddock with Kepler. The bed was so empty and cold. He’d never had much reason to pay attention to it before. He spent most of his days working hard, and when it was time to sleep his mind went blissfully blank.

  Not tonight.

  He replayed their conversation endlessly in his mind, and the truth was, he could clearly see that he had been in the wrong. Trey wasn’t the kind of guy who believed he was always right. He didn’t like being wrong, but he had enough humility to know when he’d screwed up. And he had.

  Even if it would never work out between them, he’d been needlessly harsh to Charity. He’d been greeted with a sight so gorgeous it would never leave his mind for the rest of his life, and he’d reacted like a complete jerk.

  The moon was high in the sky when he flung his legs over the side of the bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, and went out. It wasn’t enough to lay in his bed and think. He needed to move his body, even this late at night.

  All was quiet in the barn, though the horses rustled in their stalls when they heard him enter. He walked around each one, checking to make sure they were all okay. He could have given the same consideration to Charity that morning, but he hadn’t. Guilt pierced him like a knife, assailing him from all sides.

  On the one hand, he hated that he’d hurt Charity, that he’d rejected her so cruel
ly when she’d done nothing wrong. On the other hand, he still regretted that he’d given into the urge to touch her at all. Austin would be furious if he found out that they’d slept together. The only thing worse than that would be if he found out they’d started a secret relationship. Or even a public one. Trey honestly couldn’t think of a good outcome with his best friend if he pursued Charity even for another minute. His friend had accepted him in spite of his terrible family history, not because of it. Austin was sure to think that those patterns would repeat themselves.

  He closed the door to the barn and headed out to the paddock and fields beyond it. The warm wind blew gently through his hair. Trey felt at home out here. The moon was so bright that he didn’t need a light.

  Honestly, he couldn’t decide if he wished things were less clear or clearer. On the one hand, it was obvious that any kind of romantic relationship with Charity would result in the catastrophic end of his friendship with Austin. Thing was, he wasn’t only worried about his best friend.

  Trey didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about his childhood. He couldn’t afford to. But it was why his friendship with Austin was so important to him. They weren’t just friends—they were more like family.

  He’d known Austin Miller since they met in school when they were six. It didn’t take long for the two boys to figure out that they were next-door neighbors. And it didn’t take long for Trey to make himself a regular fixture in the Miller household.

  All had not been well in the Cantor house. His dad had been a drunk, surly when he was sober and violent when he wasn’t, and Trey had learned early on to get out of the house quickly when his dad had been drinking. He couldn’t think of that without another stab of guilt. So many times, he’d left his mother to face him alone. Of course, he couldn’t blame any young child for trying to escape, but he wished he’d been stronger somehow.

  And the Millers…well, they never turned him away. Austin had always been gracious, sharing his room and his toys, and even his clothes when things got particularly bad at home. That went on for years, and then everything changed.