Sweet on You (Sweet on a Cowboy)

by Drake, Laura

  This conversation was getting weirder by the minute. Katya’s heartbeat tripped, then double-timed. “Told me what?”

  “That he’s in love with you, of course.”

  “You’ve misunderstood. We’ve agreed to keep things light.” Her words sped up. “We both have things to do, places to be.”

  “I don’t know what you’re afraid of, or why you need to lie to yourself. I guess that’s none of my business.” She rattled the ice cubes in the glass. “But my brother is. He was a total mess for a year after that bi—after Candi. And he didn’t even love her.” Her eyes slitted, though the sun had ducked behind another cloud. “You’d just better not hurt my brother.” She spun on her heel, head down, and strode for the house.

  Hands clenched at her sides, Katya watched her go. Carrie obviously had forgotten that her brother was all grown up and able to make adult decisions. She snorted. He was the one who didn’t want to put a name to the relationship. That pretty much says it all, right there.

  Shows what Carrie knows. She hasn’t seen Cam in months. She’s remembering the Cam she knew, growing up. You know the man better.

  Still. He’d never brought a girlfriend home? She leaned on the fence watching the tractor, feeling as though she’d walked into a stun grenade.

  Katya’s sleep was a tangled mess of haunting faces, cowboys, and desert sun. The last was the worst; Chrys lay broken, splashed in camouflage and crimson beside a peddler’s table.

  When she opened her eyes, the dark images fled to the shadows of the cozy room revealed in the stark sodium light of the yard. She threw on some clothes, ran a brush through her hair, then tiptoed downstairs. In the family room, a white sheet outlined Cam’s sleeping form. She stepped to the bedside, picked up the quilt that he’d kicked to the floor and carefully laid it over him. His peaceful expression tugged at her. She wanted to crawl under the covers and snuggle next to him; to share some of that peace. Only the thought of his mother finding her there kept her feet moving to the kitchen.

  She pushed open the door. The soft light over the stove illuminated the country kitchen. Photos covered the fridge, alongside clippings from the local newspaper. The wall clock with a rooster on it ticked off the seconds.

  Small eddies of peace stirred in this house, like a whisper against her skin. As if the rooms had absorbed the love over the years and now breathed it out, like plants released oxygen at night. Though it was warm, Katya crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. Much as she longed to absorb that softness, she couldn’t afford to. Little enough remained of the solder as it was.

  She pulled two plastic Baggies of tea out of her back pocket. The first was for Cam’s knee. She’d brew it for him to have with breakfast. The second was for her.

  The kettle was just boiling when Cam’s mother pushed through the door. “Good morning. You’re up early.” She tightened the belt on her cotton robe and walked to the refrigerator.

  “Good morning, Nellie. Would you like a cup of my tea?”

  “I’d love to try this remedy that Cam swears by.” She took out a creamer of milk and set it on the table.

  “You won’t need the one I make for Cam. I have a better one for earlier risers.”

  “Great. What’s in it?”

  “Raspberry leaf, nettles, alfalfa, and peppermint. It’s a fortifying pick me up to start the day.”

  They sat at the table in the kitchen nook surrounded by the dark panes of the bay window. Katya inhaled the minty steam coming off her teacup. It brought Grand’s comforting presence into the room so strongly she could almost touch her.

  “It smells wonderful.” Nellie took a sip. “Hmmm.”

  “My grand made it for me every summer morning of my childhood.” A hollow ache bloomed in her chest.

  “She was special to you, wasn’t she?”

  “She was everything to me.” Her throat felt thick.

  “Are your parents gone?”

  “My parents have never really been present. Between chemistry and each other, there wasn’t much room left for anything else.” It must be the dreams and missing Grand that had her digging up ancient history. Well, that, and spending time around a close-knit family.

  “You know, they say to grow up strong, a child only needs one person who thinks the world of them. It sounds like your grand was that for you.”

  “She was. I so miss her.” She sighed. “I’m grateful to have spent the last week with you all. I envy you.”

  Nellie’s gaze was sharp, but her smile was soft. “After Carrie’s announcement, I’ve been reminded of all my blessings.” She sipped her tea, but looked at Katya over the rim. “Now, if Cam would just settle, everything would be right in my world.”

  “I know he’s been worried about what he’s going to do when he retires.”

  “Oh.” Nellie’s eyebrows went up a notch.

  If his mother had been referring to some other kind of settling, Katya wasn’t going there. “I think he’d make a great teacher.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you?”

  “If only he weren’t so danged stubborn. He’d make a wonderful coach for the young bull riders. I could see him hosting clinics, helping them understand the logistics and pressures of the tour, along with riding tips. He’d be a natural.” Her saucer rattled when she set her cup down, too hard. “He believes he doesn’t have the patience for it. Yet he’s caring with me and has shown so much patience…” She clamped her mouth shut. The heat in her face wasn’t from the tea.

  “He’s always been good with his sisters, too. Chrys thinks of him as her personal superhero.”

  “You know, I think it’s that superhero mentality that’s holding him back—as if there’s something less manly about helping the young guys.” She concentrated on making her jaw muscles relax. “I know that this is a big transition for him, but I hate to see him suffering over something that would be so simple. If he’d just see himself clearly—”

  “How much heartache could we save, if only we all saw ourselves clearly.” Nellie looked like she would say more, but instead lifted and drained her cup. “Thank you for the tea and the company.” She reached across the table to take Katya’s hand. “And thank you for caring about my son.”

  Cam stood on the curb at the airport, arm around Katya, as his parents drove away.

  Katya waved to the receding car. “I didn’t know families like yours existed outside fifties’ TV shows.” When his mother’s car took the corner at the end of the terminal, Katya turned to him. “Thank you for inviting me, Cam.”

  He checked one more time to be sure his family was gone then folded her into his arms. She’d have no way of knowing she’d just given him his fondest wish. She’d seen country life and a strong family. The next logical step would have to be her wanting it. “The pleasure was mine, Smitty.” He kissed her, long and deep.

  At first there was the lightning jolt of sexual tension. He pushed past that, wanting more. He let his longing flow into the kiss, forming a bond. It was a “come to me” kiss, an invitation to share his future.

  He felt when she accepted the invitation. He was dizzy with the joy of the possibility until she withdrew. Slowly, maybe even regretfully, but firmly.

  Don’t push too hard. You’ll scare her off. Releasing her, he rested his forehead against hers. Hope and disappointment left a sweet and bitter taste in his mouth. He opened his eyes and pushed the heavy corners of his mouth up. “God, I’ve missed you. I’m tired of sharing you with my family. You’re mine for the next week.”

  “And you’ll be mine.” She held up a finger. “But just for the week. Deal?”

  One more week to break through her stubbornness and get her to see what he already knew; they needed each other. “Okay.”

  What if, at the end of the week, it wasn’t enough?

  Jump off that bridge when you come to it.

  He took her hand. “Let’s go get started.”

  CHAPTER

  27

  Katya ignored
the suitcase wheel that wanted to return to the terminal and followed Cam to the long-term parking lot. San Antonio didn’t care that it was autumn. Heat waves rose from the asphalt and shimmered above the pavement.

  One week.

  For one week, she’d leave the past unjudged and the future unforeseen. She was so tired of balancing on the knife edge between what had happened and what could happen, dreading the fall on either side. She was taking a vacation.

  It may not last, but dammit, she was going to enjoy every second that it did.

  Their boots thumped in cadence and Cam’s hand at the small of her back felt just right. That kiss… holy smokes. It lured her like a siren’s call. And, oh how she wanted to be lured. To dive into this world with him as if it were warm water, buoying and sustaining her. A week. She had a whole week to wallow in his world. And him.

  And then…

  Nope. Not going there.

  Her lips pulled taut in the smile she had no need to hold in. She raised her face to the sun.

  “Here’s the old red mare.”

  Cam stopped by the side of an old ranch truck. Dented, scraped and well-used, the burned-paint hood ended in a rusty cattle guard bumper. He unlocked the driver’s side door, opened it, and gestured her in before stooping to heft their suitcases into the bed.

  She stepped on the running board, inhaling hot air filled with the scent of dirt, musty leather and hot metal. Scooting across the butt-sprung bench seat, she cranked down the passenger window. Tried to, anyway. It stuck halfway down. An antenna ball with a face in a Dallas Cowboys helmet hung smiling at her from the rearview mirror.

  Cam hoisted himself into the cab and hung his cowboy hat on the rifle rack in the back window. He leaned across her, banged his fist on the door panel, then rolled the window down the rest of the way. “Sorry about that. It sticks.”

  So this was how the slick-packaged world champion really lived. She clicked her seat belt. “I love this truck.”

  “She’s been rode hard and put up wet a time or two, but Cha-Cha gets it done.”

  “Cha-Cha?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Trucks run better when they know you love them.” He rolled his eyes to the roof of the cab, his lips moving in what might have been a prayer as he cranked the engine. It fired up and settled into a jouncing rumble. “See?” He shifted the old column-mounted gear stick into first and eased the truck into the traffic.

  She sat back, watching the East Texas hill country flying past. Well, that and Cam’s forearm muscles flexing when he shifted. Remembering she was on vacation, she abandoned resistance, unclipped her seat belt, and scooted next to him. He smiled and his arm wrapped around her, though he kept his eyes on the road.

  She inhaled the smell of Cam’s aftershave and freedom, both sweet and clean. Tucking her feet up under her, she stored this precious memory.

  Less than an hour later, they rolled through the picture-postcard town of Bandera. Old stone buildings and wooden storefronts flanked the street. Angled parking spaces crowded with farm trucks and soccer-mom vans fronted the curb. One lone horse stood tied outside the Chicken Coop Bar amid a cluster of Harleys.

  Cam took a road that followed what a sign proclaimed to be the Medina River, a slow moving green snake of water shaded by overhanging trees.

  He drove with one arm on the window ledge, fingers on the wheel. “I’ll warn you, my cabin is a bit rustic. It came with the property and I didn’t see the point of building anything else until I retired.”

  She raised her nose and sniffed, “What, no Jacuzzi?”

  “ ’Fraid not. But I know a quiet bend in the river that’s perfect for skinny-dipping.” He winked at her.

  “Well, I guess there will be a few amenities.”

  He turned left at a cattle-guarded dirt road. A mailbox stood sentinel beside the wire fence. A blue-steel roofed house sat off to the left, and Cam honked the horn as they rolled by, following a two-tire-track trail deeper into the property.

  “That’s Tuck and Nancy’s place. I’m sure we’ll visit them sometime this week.” His arm tightened on her shoulder. His glance held hunger. “But not tonight. Okay?”

  She laid a hand on his thigh and made herself stop there. “No, not tonight.”

  The grass-covered hump between the tracks brushed the underside of the truck. Fat cattle, mouths full of grass, watched the truck pass. The trail led up the side of a hill covered in maples and oaks. When they entered the stand, the light through the canopy filtered pale green and the temperature dropped.

  Cam pulled onto a clearing where a small log cabin with chinked walls, tiny windows, and a moss-covered chimney slumbered. The wood-shingled roof canted steeply, angling to a covered porch.

  He shut down the engine and turned to her. “Welcome to Casa de Cahill. Such as it is.”

  Birds chirped and a locust buzzed in long grass. A breeze stirred the trees, and sun and shadows danced together in the dirt.

  She took a deep breath of the cool air. Quiet settled over her shoulders like one of Grand’s hand-crocheted lap blankets. “I like it here already.”

  He cocked his head and studied her. “Do you? I worried you wouldn’t.”

  This was a perfect place to hide from everything for a week—even herself. “It’s perfect.”

  “Well, hopefully it’s presentable inside. A few days ago I called the lady who does housekeeping for me. She agreed to air it out and put up some supplies.”

  “Great. I’m starving.” She slid across the seat and bounced out of the cab.

  When Cam unlocked the cabin door, the ghosts of past log fires assailed her nose. The kitchen area was to the right, with appliances she hadn’t seen outside old TV shows. Next to a window overlooking the front porch sat a wooden table with two chairs.

  On the left was a large open living room, with a fieldstone fireplace flanked by windows. The leather couch and scarred coffee table faced the fireplace. Across the room, a ladder climbed the wall to what appeared to be a sleeping loft, tucked under the slanting timbers.

  “The door next to the ladder is to the bathroom.” Cam wheeled the suitcases in behind him.

  “Well, thank heaven for that.” Grateful she wouldn’t have to use a latrine, Katya crossed the room and stepped into a large bathroom. It appeared to be the only room that had been remodeled, except for the huge claw-foot tub in the corner. She took care of business, and walked out to find Cam bent over, peering into the squat refrigerator. “What do you want to eat? I could make us some eggs, or—”

  “Do you have peanut butter?”

  He snorted. “You know me. Do you have to ask?”

  They ate PB&J sandwiches in the big iron bedstead in the loft, giggling like kids on a campout. Until Cam leaned to lick a dab of jelly off the corner of her mouth, and her hunger went in a different direction entirely.

  She turned her face to catch his lips fully, tasting the sweetness of jelly and Cam. She took her time, reveling in their seclusion and the long afternoon that lay ahead.

  He kissed her back in a lazy way. She silently vowed to savor every inch of him. She’d tuck away the sweet memories, for the times when bombs fell.

  He opened his arms. “It was a long, lonely week on that sofa bed. Come here.”

  And she did.

  In the middle of the night, Cam opened his eyes, suddenly and fully awake. He listened to her easy breathing beside him, but he couldn’t lie still. His slid from between the sheets, pulled on his jeans, padded to the ladder, and climbed down.

  He snatched the throw from the back of the couch on his way by. The moonlight bathed the porch in soft white light as he stepped out and gently closed the door behind him. The night was cool, but not cold. He settled the throw around his shoulders and pulled the porch chair away from the wall. He sat, put his bare feet on the railing, and leaned the chair on its back legs.

  Crickets serenaded. He inhaled the smell of cool grass and damp growing things. He felt his public persona flaking away like th
e cheap paint that it was. The peace he always found at home cocooned around him. Next week, at the finals, he’d either go out triumphant, or just go out. Either way, he’d have to start over.

  Still, the worry he’d spent over that transition now seemed small. It was only what he did for a living. Katya coming into his life had put a spotlight on his real problem, the gaping hole inside him. No, beside him, where his mate should be. What a team they’d make; him coaching, her training.

  How immature his relationship with Candi had been. He’d played the part of macho protector, to her little woman. Whatever Candi’s faults, he’d made mistakes too—big ones. He’d never dropped the “Cool Hand” facade with her. Maybe if he had, she would have dropped her guard as well. Or maybe it wasn’t a facade with Candi. Maybe it was who she was.

  And what does it say when you were married to the woman and you don’t know?

  Katya had flaws. She was stubborn and was so busy looking over her shoulder at the past that she couldn’t see where she was going. Her trajectory would put her in danger.

  I need to— His thought smacked into a concrete wall of realization. How was he different from that macho protector who had married Candi? Older, yes, but wiser?

  If Katya needed to return to Afghanistan to heal, who was he to tell her she shouldn’t? You can’t manipulate her into loving you. Or make her want to stay.

  If he tried, he’d be making the same mistake as before. They could never have a solid relationship, if it were based on that.

  Still, the knowledge did nothing to stop the sinkhole in his heart. He had no control. Even on a bull, he at least had some control… of himself. With Katya, he didn’t even seem to have that.

  Cool air brushed his chest and he pulled the blanket closer. She liked his family. She appeared enchanted with his dumpy cabin. He could only hope that the week ahead would spin a web of tiny, almost imperceptible threads, binding her to him and keep her from returning to the bloody desert.