Sweet on You (Sweet on a Cowboy)

by Drake, Laura

  The screen door creaked. “What are you doing out here?” Her footsteps came up behind him.

  He dropped the chair onto all legs. “Just listening to the night.” He offered his hand. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  When she stepped to the chair and settled into his lap, he spread the blanket over them both. Her arms circled his waist, and she tucked her head under his chin, against his chest.

  How can she not see? She’s already home.

  The days flew by. Cam took her swimming at a green bend in the river with a rope swing over it. They’d spent the afternoon playing like otters. He took her horseback riding, and showed her how to herd cattle. They’d made love in the woods, in the water, in every corner of the cabin. A tenacious wistfulness tugged her guts. She wished she could stop time and stay in this place with him, for a very long time.

  Too soon, the morning of their last full day arrived. And with it, the dread she’d held at bay. But worse. She worried about the finals, gate duty, and returning to the army. She now had more worry to add to the teetering pile. She’d have to tell Cam good-bye, and return to the army

  Then she actually had to do it.

  She slapped mustard on a bologna sandwich, dropped a slice of bread on top, and slid it in a plastic bag. Today Cam was taking her on a tour of the ranch via four-wheeler.

  Do not ruin what you have left by being afraid to leave it.

  The quiet was shattered by the first notes of “Desperado” blatting from a cell phone. They both jumped.

  Cam lifted his phone from the windowsill, where it had been plugged in since they’d arrived. “What?”

  Her heart, which had spent the days floating at high altitudes, sank just a bit.

  We have one more day! She shoved the sandwiches in a lunch bag along with the apples and Twinkies and carried them to the table. She heard a female voice chirping from the phone.

  “Hi, Nancy.” Cam rubbed his forehead. “Of course. You go. Don’t think about it for a minute. Tell Tuck I’ll keep an eye on things here, and we’ll see y’all in Vegas.”

  He hit End. “They wanted us to come down for dinner tonight, but her aunt in Albuquerque wants them to stay awhile on their drive to Vegas, so she and Tuck are heading out tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, I know you’d like to see them.” She draped her arms around his shoulders and bent to give him a peck on the lips. “But I’ll admit, I’m selfish. I don’t want to share you on our last night.”

  “Me neither.” He stood, and the peck turned into a proper kiss.

  She felt breathless by the time he patted her butt and backed away. “Now stop distracting me. I have something I want to show you.” He took her hand and she just had time to snatch up their lunch before he led her out the door.

  The four-wheeler was loud and the ride was much bumpier than a horse, but clinging to Cam’s waist and looking around his broad shoulders were a good trade-off.

  They came out of the woods onto a knoll. He shut down the engine, and they sat, taking in the view. The ground ahead sloped down to a wide valley, where a stream ran to meet the river far below. From this vantage point, she could see clear down to the road, past Tuck and Nancy’s house. The tree line was a dark green division on either side of a golden meadow flowing to the plain.

  “Wow.” She threw a leg over and stepped off the machine.

  “Yeah. This has always been my favorite spot on the place. I offered it to Tuck first, but Nancy wanted their homestead nearer the road.”

  The knoll would be large enough for a house with a decent-sized yard. “Oh, can you imagine? You could have a porch, with huge picture windows, overlooking this view.” She held up her hands, her fingers touching, forming a picture square. “No, wait.” She twisted five degrees to the left. “You need to turn it just a bit, so you get the slope down to the road in the view.”

  He nodded. “Where would you put the kitchen?”

  She glanced around. “Well, I’d want a window on the best view I could get while I’m cooking.” She strode twenty feet back and to the right. “If you put a sweet little bay window over the sink, you’d still get a bit of the valley. I’d grow herbs on the sill.”

  “I’m thinking of a large great room in the front.” He pointed to the left. “Huge fireplace, a rough timber mantel, and a trophy elk’s head above it.”

  “Oh, no way.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, gross. No dead animals in the house.”

  “What? Not even if I shot it? It would be impressive—”

  “Nuh-unh. I’m not exactly sure how taxidermy is classified, but it’s not interior decoration.”

  “Awww, come on, I’ll let you decorate the rest of the house, but I want one trophy.”

  Okay, if he wanted to play house, she’d play. She narrowed her eyes. “That is so not happening, bub.”

  “Okay, okay. One story or two?”

  “I think two stories, don’t you? A loft could look down onto the great room. Navajo rugs on the walls…” She glanced over. “Except those are way too expensive. Maybe some knockoffs.”

  He put his thumbs in his pockets and puffed out his chest. “You’re talking to a two-time world champion here.”

  “Okay, Mr. Moneybags. Real Navajo rugs it is.”

  “Where’s the master bedroom?”

  She walked to the left corner of the lot. “Right here.” She could picture it in her mind. “It’d be huge, with lots of windows.” She walked to where the outside wall would be. “And French doors that open to the backyard.” She mimed pulling the door. “Oh! A hot tub, right there!”

  “Come back in the bedroom and close that door. Were you born in a barn?” He waved her over.

  She stepped in, “closing” the door behind her. “All this planning has got me hungry. I’ll grab our lunch.”

  He snatched her hand on the way by. “I don’t know, that bed looks awful inviting—” He tugged and laughing, they tumbled, into the grass.

  Cam’s broad shoulders blocked the sun. He leaned over and began unwrapping her, as if she were the best kind of present—slowly, one piece of clothing at a time, until she lay naked in the grass. His steady gaze made her feel like she was the first woman, the only woman. There was no shyness between them, only the heat of the sun, of their need.

  Cam’s tender touch brushed the future aside. Tomorrow they’d fly to the finals, and whatever lay ahead for them both. But for right now, she was content to relish what she could touch. Cam. Hers, for one more night.

  Lulled by the warm sun and his loving, time eased and slowed. Cam shucked his clothes, then leaned over her, brushing the hair back from her temples. He watched her, his eyes the blue of nightfall. When he came into her long and slow, the only sign of what it cost him was his tiny shiver, when he reached her end.

  Fulfillment had always been a pursuit. A rushing climb to the summit, to pause a brief moment, thrilling in the height before sliding down the other side.

  This was new.

  Cam’s deliberate movements brought intense focus to the places they touched, the sliding friction inside her. She struggled to remain as unhurried as he, overcome by the almost painful awareness that time wouldn’t always stand still.

  Still, he watched her.

  She didn’t want it to end. Any of it.

  In spite of the slow pace, or maybe because of it, she floated up. She bit her lips in an effort to be still. Her orgasm caught her by surprise. It didn’t begin, but suddenly, she was there. It exploded in her, opening a hollow deep in her womb. She dug her heels into his buttocks, urging him close, to fill the empty place.

  He cradled her face between his broad hands, locking his gaze with hers. “I love you, Katya.”

  The words broke his iron discipline. He closed his eyes, took her mouth, and with one last solid stroke, filled her.

  “And I love you.” She lay holding him, aftershocks rocking them both, tears slipping down the sides of her face into the grass.

  Oh God, how wou
ld she walk away from this?

  CHAPTER

  28

  Cam, we’ve got to talk.”

  Katya sat beside him at the airport gate. She smoothed a strand of hair back from her forehead, fiddled with a hoop earring. He bit back a smile. She’s nervous too.

  Yesterday at the homestead site, things changed. He’d felt it. They’d transitioned to a new level. He was overfull, puffed with tenderness, pride, and nerves. They were going to have a great future. He wondered if this was how every guy felt, before he proposed.

  They’d had a busy morning, showering, packing, and closing up the house. He wanted to wait for the perfect time to bring up a subject this important. Driving to the airport, he’d rehearsed what he’d say. And what she’d say. And then what he’d say…

  “You’re right. We do have a lot to talk about.” He wiped his palms on the legs on his jeans. “But first,” he flipped his suitcase on its side and unzipped it. “I’ve been carrying this around forever, and it’s time I gave it to you.” He reached in and brought out a creamy felt Stetson, with a thin black leather band studded with stones.

  “My woman has to own a hat.” He handed it to her with a ta-da flourish. “I thought the turquoise would look good with your eyes.”

  She cradled it in her lap, petting it. Her eyes, when she looked up, were full of old pain. He heard her swallow.

  Alarm jangled. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t—” She swallowed again. “It’s not—” She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath through her nose and blew out between her teeth. “It is beautiful, Cam. Really. Thank you. I love it.” She handed it back. “I can’t wear it.”

  A female voice came over the intercom. “This is the final boarding call for Flight 247 to Las Vegas, at gate number three.”

  “What? Why not?”

  A businessman hurried by, his suitcase rolling over Cam’s boot.

  “That’s our flight.” She glanced to the line queuing up at the Jetway and reached for the handle of her suitcase.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm when she would have stood. “Why the hell can’t you wear it?”

  She sighed so deep that her shoulders slumped. “Cam, as much as I’ve wanted to be, I’m not a cowgirl.” She looked like the words hurt her. “Save it for me. Maybe someday it will fit.”

  Was this some crisis of self-esteem? Final hour of cold feet? Surely he hadn’t mistaken the shift that he’d felt yesterday. He couldn’t have. She told him that she loved him. Maybe she didn’t understand that the hat was a symbol. He was offering her his world, everything he had.

  He took her hand. It was icy. “Hon, there’s no test you have to take. You don’t need a license to wear a hat. Besides, you’ve earned it. Not many women can say they’ve massaged a bucking bull and lived to talk about it.” He smiled.

  She didn’t. She took her hand back and shouldered her purse. “We need to go.”

  A blade of apprehension sliced through him, and the fullness he’d felt the past day bled out. “What’s this really about?” He scanned her face for clues. They loved each other. Surely, that’s all that mattered?

  Dammit, that’s all he’d let matter.

  He gritted his teeth, bent, put the hat back in his suitcase, zipped it, and stood.

  She rose. “Let’s talk on the plane.”

  His thoughts twisting like a fast spinning bull, he led the way to where a professionally cheery airline attendant stood waiting. He handed her both boarding passes and nodded at her request for him to have a nice flight, even though he was beginning to have doubts. He followed Katya’s suitcase down the Jetway.

  This had happened fast for her. That’s all it was. It would take her some time getting used to the idea of marrying a cowboy. Would her family object because he wasn’t Gypsy? The damned hat didn’t matter. If she wanted to wear a clown suit and white-face, he’d be proud. Nothing mattered as long as she was next to him. It was time he let her know that.

  Normally, he hated bulkhead seats. In this case, it at least gave them the illusion of privacy. He was thankful, too, for the two-seat rows for the long hop to Las Vegas. He stowed the suitcases then took the empty aisle seat.

  Ignoring the stewardess demonstrating how to buckle a seat belt, he twisted to face Katya as best he could. This wasn’t how he’d planned to ask, but given her reaction to the hat, he needed to know where he stood. After all, if he were the “wait and see” type, he wouldn’t ride bulls for a living. It was time to go all in, lay down all his cards.

  “You may not understand what I’m saying here, hon. And maybe now isn’t the best time, but,” he took her ringless hand and rubbed the base of her ring finger. “I plan to do some shopping in Vegas. For something sparkly. I’m telling you now, so you can tell me what kind you’d like.” He added his best smile to his pile of cards.

  He studied every flicker of emotion on her face. It didn’t take long. His stomach took a drop with no bottom. He’d seen raccoons treed by dogs that looked less cornered than Katya. She darted him a startled wide-eyed look, then away. Her hand slipped from his.

  “I’m going back to finish my contract. With the army.”

  “What?” The angry rumble started low in his gut.

  The stewardess stopped her explanation midsentence and stared at him.

  He shrugged, and leaned close to Katya’s ear. “Why?” His heart joined his stampeding thoughts. “You said yesterday… in the grass. You said—”

  “That I loved you.”

  How could words, so full of life yesterday, sound dead, today?

  She tugged at her seat belt and shifted. “I meant it. The past two weeks, you’ve shown me something I didn’t think existed outside of fairy tales. Something I could have.” Each word lost momentum. “I want that. All of it. I want you.” The hope in her eyes was harder to take than the pain it replaced. “Will you wait for me?”

  A deafening roar filled his head, like the crowd noise of the arena. No words, just screaming. It was him. His brain screaming at him that something was terribly, life-threatening, wrong. A bad wreck was coming.

  He craved movement—to pace, to run, to pound a wall. Instead, the plane picked up speed, hurtling down the runway. He leaned forward, fighting the grip of centrifugal force. “Why? Why would you go back?” He slammed his open palm on the armrest. “You damn near gave your life over there. That’s too much.” He fought his panic, his fear that she’d return to him in a body bag. He tried to pull intelligent arguments out of the wreck slamming in his brain.

  “I survived. Others didn’t. I owe them—”

  “You don’t owe them shit!”

  The stewardess strapped in the jump seat eyed him. He nodded an apology to her, then leaned back in his seat, as the future he’d pictured the past twelve hours receded in a cloud of bull dust. His gut churned and he felt under his seat, not sure where the barf bags were in a bulkhead row.

  Katya sat rock-still beside him, eyes focused to drill through the bulkhead wall.

  Finally his stomach settled a bit, but not his nerves. “Look, I don’t mean to be angry, or mean. I’m sorry your friends aren’t home with people they love. But wouldn’t they want you to be?”

  She looked as miserable as he felt. “Of course they would.”

  “Then why—”

  “I wouldn’t be happy. Don’t you see? I’d feel guilty, like I was running away, instead of making a stand. I need to at least try to pay back their sacrifice.” She looked down at her hands. “To atone. I know it makes no sense to you.” Her lips twisted. “But if I didn’t try, the guilt would burn through me and bleed into us.” She reached to touch his thigh but pulled back her hand before she touched it. “It would ruin me. It would ruin us.”

  “What about that doc you’re talking to? If you stay and work with him, things will get better. I know it may not seem like it, but you won’t always feel this way.”

  “He thinks I’m close to getting my healing back. What I want to d
o with it, that’s up to me.” She touched his arm. A light, tentative brush. “Look, Cam, it’s not forever. Only eighteen months. Then I’ll be back and we’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

  He imagined himself going about his day, not knowing if she were dead, bleeding out into the sand. He imagined getting an impersonal telegram. He imagined his heart being torn from his chest.

  He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “And how am I supposed to handle that year and a half?” He tried to control the anger in his voice. Really tried. Really failed. “Do you know how many hours that is? How many minutes?”

  The stewardess unbuckled herself and gave him a warning look before disappearing in the kitchen area behind the bulkhead.

  Katya sat taller and got that tightness around her lips. He knew he was losing the battle.

  “People do it all the time.” She shot him a hard look. “All the riders’ wives do. Your family does, every time you get on a bull. For fifteen years.”

  Shit. He’d never thought about how his riding affected others. He’d never had to, since he was always the one riding, never the one worrying on the sidelines. Talk about no control. He shuddered.

  “Please, don’t do this.” He didn’t care about pride. Or who heard him. He wasn’t too good to beg. “I talked to Doc Cody. You’ll have a permanent job on the circuit, when you, uh, solve your issue.”

  He wanted to hold her. He wanted to get on his knees before her. All he had to rely on was his pathetic verbal skill. And he’d flunked speech class in high school. He had to try. “You will solve it. You’ll jump in and do your job. Because you’re strong. And because, deep down, that’s who you are. You’re the one who cares.”

  Her hands fisted in her lap. “Dammit, I’m not leaving you. I’m returning to finish something I started. Something I committed to.” The tough soldier dissolved as he watched, revealing the anguished, soul-sick woman beneath. “Cam, I want to stay. I… can’t.”

  He sat, watching the shimmer of dust on the horizon that used to be his future. What replaced it was dark. Dark and cold. It was going to be bad regardless, knowing Katya was over there. But knowing his love, his hopeful fiancée, the possible mother of his children was over there, and he was powerless to keep her safe? He had always told her she was braver than he was.