Hot for a Cowboy

by Kim Redford

  Now he was talking to Sheriff Calhoun, pacing back and forth across dining room floor outside the kitchen. She listened closely in case she needed to remind him of something important.

  “Sheriff, we could be misreading the entire situation,” Shane said, “but I have photos I want to send you and see what you think.” He paused, listening. “No, we didn’t get a license plate.” He paused again. “We don’t have any better description.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. We’ll alert you if we see the car again and you’ll be on the lookout, too. Thanks.”

  “What did Sheriff Calhoun think?” She picked up a dish towel and dried her hands.

  “Just a minute. Let me forward the photos.” After a bit, Shane put his phone in his pocket as he looked at her. “He thinks we might be making a mountain out of a molehill because of what you recently went through.”

  “I agree.”

  “But he also wants you, and everybody else in the county, to be as safe as possible. You know how serious he takes his responsibility to us.”

  “And that means?”

  “He’s been notified of our concerns. He’ll take a look at the photos. And we’re to keep him updated on the situation.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “It’s exactly what we need at this point. Anything else is too much. Anything less is not enough.”

  “It’s a relief knowing we aren’t in this completely alone.”

  “Did you feel that way in LA?”

  “Too many times to count.”

  He walked over, took the dish towel out of her hands, tossed it on a countertop, and enfolded her in his arms. “You’ll never be alone in Wildcat Bluff County. We’re all family here.”

  “And you?” She leaned back and looked up at him, wanting him to talk about the two of them as family.

  He gave a little twist of his lips, almost a smile. “There’s a lot I’d like to say, but I don’t think you’re ready to get back on that horse again.”

  “I was on a horse today.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Not that type of horse and you know it.” He glanced around the kitchen. “I’m starved. Did you find anything worth eating in the fridge?”

  She patted his chest, grinning as she let him get away with changing the subject. There’d be plenty of time later to pursue…well, whatever they wanted to pursue. “I found a lot of questionable produce and tossed it in that garbage bag over there.”

  “Takeout containers?”

  “If they had mold on them, they’re in the trash, too.”

  “Thanks. I get around to sorting through the fridge about once in a blue moon.”

  “I can tell.” She pointed toward a countertop. “Still, we’re in luck. I found sliced beef brisket from the Chuckwagon and bread, too. I’ll make sandwiches. Best of all, I found a whole pie that looks and smells fresh. How did it get in your refrigerator?”

  “Slade Steele.” Shane rubbed his jaw. “He treats me like a guinea pig. He found his great-granny’s cookbook. You’d think he won his last bull ride. He’s trying out the recipes. That’s a buttermilk pie. I haven’t bothered to try it yet. If it’d been pecan or cherry or lemon or something like that, it’d be gone.”

  She clapped her hands together in delight. “Aren’t we lucky?”

  “Speak for yourself. Buttermilk?”

  “It’s bound to be delicious.”

  “Is there any ice cream in the freezer to give it flavor?”

  “Not on your life. This pie will fix a difficult day.”

  “It wasn’t all bad today. The stock tanks work. I called and thanked Hedy again, particularly since we’ll need to use the rigs on an ongoing basis till I come up with a permanent solution.”

  “Glad the tanks turned out okay.”

  “Yeah.” He cocked his head to one side as he looked at her slowly, so very slowly, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. “After Slade’s pie, I want dessert.”

  She smiled at the implication that she would be his dessert while she returned his gaze with a lingering one of her own. As the heat built between them, she cast her mind to pleasure and let go of the worry and tension and confusion that had been mounting all day. She needed relief. They both needed it. “If that’s the way you want it, food first, then—”

  “I get to choose what I want first.”

  “Why you?”

  “Why not me?” He gave her a sly smile full of unspoken promises.

  She sidled up to him, ran her palms up his broad chest, and stroked lightly over his shoulders, feeling his muscles contract in response. He groaned as if he’d been waiting for her touch forever. “That’s why.”

  “You’re not an easy woman.”

  “When did you ever want easy?”

  “Right about now.”

  “In that case,” she said as she twirled away and into the kitchen, “I’ll make sandwiches and slice pie.” She smiled in satisfaction when she heard him moan in reply, knowing the wait would simply up their pleasure later.

  “Okay. While you set out the food, I’ll grab a quick shower.”

  “Great.” She expected to hear him move away. When he didn’t, she glanced up. All the banter in his eyes was gone. He appeared serious as a slight smile teased his lips.

  “Eden, did I tell you how glad I am you’re back?”

  She felt warm all over at his words, but she wasn’t going to let them get bogged down in seriousness. They needed lighthearted fun for a change. She was determined they’d have it this night. “If you didn’t, you can show me in the hot tub later.”

  “That’s a deal.” He grinned, appearing mischievous again. “Be right back.”

  After he’d gone, she sighed in satisfaction, feeling more at home than she had in years. They were carrying on a long-held tradition in their families of eating together at the dining table. She opened a cabinet and selected the white plates with black barbwire motif around the edges that brought back fond memories. She set them on the table along with silverware and napkins.

  Fortunately, she’d already had her shower and put on a red T-shirt, cutoffs, and flip-flops. All she needed to do now was make a meal for them.

  As she set to work, she noticed she was happily humming a tune. She stopped in mid-pie-slice. She didn’t remember being happy like this when she was married to Graham. They were always running here and there, trying to find time for each other or maybe not trying hard enough.

  She glanced around the kitchen—cabinet to countertop, refrigerator to stove, cookie jar to toaster. Who knew such a small thing as putting together a meal in a beloved home could make her feel so happy? Suddenly she realized that it didn’t require being a star, talking to a large audience, or taking home a big paycheck to feel sublimely happy. It just took being with the right man in the right place at the right time.

  And in that moment of clarity, she felt every single last brick—thud, thud, thud—drop out of her protective wall. With that sudden change came a feeling of vulnerability but also a feeling of freedom and new beginnings. Home sweet home.

  She picked up the platter of sandwiches and carried it to the table, where she set it in a place of honor. She walked back into the kitchen and picked up the aqua-tinted glass pitcher of sweet tea. As she poured the amber liquid over ice in matching aqua glasses, she hummed to the sound of crackling ice.

  After she added the glasses to the table setting, she cut two big wedges of pie, set them on dessert plates, and carried them to the table. She stepped back, proudly looking over her creation with pleasure. She’d never been a happy homemaker with Graham. They’d been too busy, too distracted, too often gone from home. Now she wanted the happiness she remembered from childhood when warm cookies, cold tea, and simple sandwiches eaten with loved ones made life special and worthwhile.

  When she heard Shane’s foot
steps in the hall, she felt her heart pick up speed. Just the idea of eating a meal with him completed her happiness.

  When he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her back against his broad chest, she felt tears fill her eyes. How long had she wanted to be loved and treasured like this?

  “Table looks pretty,” he whispered as the heat of his breath fanned the delicate whorls of her ear. “But you’re a whole lot prettier.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She placed her hands over his arms and held him tight, feeling the fabric—gone soft and pliant from so many washings of his cutoffs and T-shirt—rub against her.

  “I’m about to choose you over food.”

  “Don’t you dare! I worked long and hard on those sandwiches.” She tried to twist out of his embrace, but he simply spread his hands across her stomach and held her tighter.

  “You’re going nowhere till I let you.”

  She knew that was true because of his superior strength but also because she wanted to stay nestled in his arms. And yet, she wanted them to sit down at the table and eat together like a family, as they had done so many times when they were young. “Sooner we eat, the sooner we get to the hot tub.”

  He groaned, as if in great pain, nipped her earlobe, let her go, and quickly sat down in front of a plate.

  She joined him at the table, savoring the moment as she looked across at him and picked up her glass of tea.

  He grabbed his sandwich, took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Real good, but I know something better.” He gave her a steamy look with hazel eyes gone dark.

  She gave as good as she got as she bit into her sandwich, wishing she’d made them smaller, anything to get to the hot tub as quickly as possible.

  By the time they got to the pie, she almost giggled because they were wolfing down the food as if they were at an Olympic event.

  “Pie’s better than I expected,” he said as he quartered the piece and made it disappear.

  “It’s good.” She took smaller bites, but she was in no less hurry to be done and gone. She’d had enough family time at the table. She wanted her hands on him and his on her.

  He drained his glass of tea, picked up his plate, and stood up. “I’ll set this in the kitchen and go get a bottle of wine. Meet you at the hot tub.”

  She stood, too, watching as he whirled around and disappeared from sight. She couldn’t keep from chuckling as she cleared the table and cleaned up in the kitchen. Maybe next time they could keep their minds off each other and on the food. But she sincerely doubted it.

  When she was done, she slid open the patio door and stepped outside into a cool evening. A string of hanging bulbs cast a multicolored glow over the long metal table and eight chairs painted bright white and nestled on the flagstone patio. She glanced at the pool, behind its white wrought-iron fence, and saw the expanse of warm-blue glow from its underwater lights. Shane had already set the hot tub to bubbling and tossed gray towels on the aqua-and-white-striped cushions of a chaise longue.

  She kicked off her flip-flops and walked down the flagstone path to the hot tub. She’d enjoy the night while she waited for him to bring the wine. She just hoped he wouldn’t be long.

  She smiled in delight at the hot tub nestled inside a cedar frame with two-foot-wide seating around the square area, with a cedar deck at the base on three sides. She quickly sat down, swung her feet over the edge, and let warm bubbles ply her flesh. She felt much of the tension of the day ease out of her muscles. She took a deep breath of fresh night air, slightly moist with the sweet scent of wildflowers.

  When she heard the sliding door open and close, she glanced up to see Shane carrying a bottle in one hand and two crystal, long-stemmed glasses in the other.

  “How are you doing?” He asked as he stalked toward her with easy, long-limbed grace.

  She licked her lower lip, wanting to taste him much more than the wine he held in his hand.

  He stopped beside her, looking down. “Aren’t you overdressed?”

  “You said no suits—or was that me?” she asked, teasing him as she caught a hint of orange and cinnamon that must have been a Morning Glory original soap scent. He smelled as delicious as he looked.

  “I guess neither of us got the right memo.” He set the bottle and two glasses on the ledge, sat down beside her, and put both feet in the water.

  “What memo was that?”

  He grinned as he picked up the bottle. “The one that reads ‘birthday suits only.’”

  She laughed at his joke, enjoying his light banter. “If I’d gotten that memo, I’d have remembered it.”

  “If not, I’d have reminded you.” He held out the bottle. “Wine?”

  “Please. I’m not picky, but what is it?”

  “I hate to mention Slade Steele’s name again, or you’ll think I’m promoting his products all the time.”

  “No concern. I just recorded several ads for the Chuckwagon Café and his pies in particular.”

  Shane chuckled as he selected a glass. “Guess he’s on our minds. Anyway, you probably don’t know that he started a small vineyard on his family’s ranch. He’s making muscadine wine.”

  “Wine, too? No more riding bulls?”

  “Past tense. Injury.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, being reminded of how life could throw a curveball and it was left to every person to get back up, dust off the seat of their pants, and find their way back into the game. At least, that’s the way the old adage went, and she was doing her best to get her hands firmly on a ball again, so she could make a strong play.

  “For now, he’s giving wine to friends and relatives.”

  “And you’re his guinea pig again?”

  “Yep. And I’m happy to be one.”

  “If his wine is as good as his pies, I’m all in.”

  Shane poured the ruby-red liquid into one glass, handed it to her, poured another, and set the bottle back on the cedar ledge.

  She clinked glasses with him, then took a small sip. She was pleasantly surprised by the rich, fruity taste with just a hint of woodsy flavor.

  “Not bad.” He held up the glass to the light as he examined its contents.

  “I’m no expert, but this tastes wonderful.” She cradled the glass in both hands, sliding deeper into the passion they were building with every word, every sip, every look.

  “Yeah.”

  She felt happy and content and relaxed as silence settled between them while they sipped wine and kicked their feet in the bubbling water. After a while, he refilled both glasses, then set the empty bottle on the cedar deck. And still they said nothing, letting the moment build at its own pace in its own way. She tilted back her head, simply enjoying the stars in the night sky that was so impossible in LA.

  “I don’t know about you,” he said, finally breaking their silence, “but I could spend a lifetime doing this very thing.”

  “What ‘thing’ is that?” she asked, making sure she pronounced it “thang” in their Texas way, instead of her radio way.

  He chuckled, putting an around her shoulders and cuddling her against his side. “Feeling smart, are you?”

  “Feeling happy, relaxed, content, and—”

  “That thing, huh?” He downed the last of his wine and set the empty glass down.

  “Yeah, that very thing.” She finished off her glass, too, and handed it back to him.

  He smiled when their fingers touched, as if he held back some special secret. He set her glass beside his own, then turned to her. “Want to explore that thing?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She reached up and tenderly cupped his cheek, watching his eyes turn dark, hearing his breath quicken, seeing him lean toward her. She tilted her face up for a kiss…and then he abruptly pushed her down into the hot tub.

  She surfaced in a fury, splashing wate
r over the sides, pushing wet hair out of her face, glaring at him in outrage. “How dare—”

  “Eden, stay down,” he rasped, staring out toward Wildcat Bluff Road.

  “What is it?” She suddenly felt chilled, even in the hot water.

  “I’m a damn fool.” He lay down flat but kept his head up so he could see across the pasture. “We’re sitting ducks up here.”

  “What do you mean?” She reached out and clasped his bare arm, wanting comfort and to be comforted by the simple touch of him.

  “There’s a car parked near the cattle guard.”

  And she shivered all over.

  Chapter 21

  “I’ve had enough of this cat-and-mouse game.” Shane sat up but kept the hot tub between him and the road so he couldn’t be seen. He was mad as hell that his night with Eden was over before it hardly started and even madder that somebody was probably stalking her. It had to stop. And he was going to stop it. Right now.

  “Let’s call the sheriff.” She clung to the edge of the hot tub, but kept her head down, watching him over the rim.

  “Not only no, but hell no. What can he do? A patrol car shows up and that guy’s out of here.”

  “Good. Scare him off.” She gestured toward the road with her chin. “Besides, it might be somebody with a flat tire or some other car trouble.”

  “Yeah, it might be, or it might be a guy sighting down a nightscope with us as target practice.”

  She sank deeper into the water, looking at him as if she could hardly believe her ears. “But I’m back in Wildcat Bluff. I’m supposed to be safe here.”

  “You are safe.” He glanced at the house, checking lights, shadows, perimeters. They were way too vulnerable, sitting here big as day. He could call Sheriff Calhoun. He could call neighbors. He could call cowboys. Bottom line, by the time anybody arrived, it’d be way too late if a stranger was looking to do them harm. He needed a plan, a good one.