Unbroken Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  Hearing her yell at an animal was particularly amusing.

  He rambled down the path, dodging rocks and roots as he did. Then he came through the grove of trees and stopped.

  There she was, in the river. She was clutching a scrap of fabric in one hand, and glaring across the rest of the river at what looked like Evan on the opposing bank.

  There were other scraps of fabric floating in this still part of the water, and she seemed to be actively attempting to collect them.

  Her curls hung in her face, one damp spiral in the center of her forehead. And her dress...

  A white summer dress that was now soaking wet and clinging to her body.

  And the thing that shocked him into absolute stillness was that it was such a damn body.

  He had never... He had never realized that Beatrix Leighton had a body like a back road.

  He had never given much consideration to her body before, in all honesty. But it was impossible not to now, with that sodden, see-through dress hanging on her every curve. The material was translucent, and the water was...

  Well, the water was cold, obviously.

  And she was...

  He felt a growing warmth in his gut, interest stirring in his...

  Hell no. Hell no.

  There were bridges too far, and then there were bridges to fucking nowhere.

  And this was the latter. This was untenable. This was him being an absolute asshole because he hadn’t seen a naked woman in the flesh in more than eight months.

  And here was one, supple and naked and damn those breasts right in front of him.

  He had never, ever felt any kind of below-the-belt stirring for Beatrix Leighton. It was an aberration. An abomination. It was...

  Bea suddenly let out a squeak and sank, the water crawling up to her jawline.

  Without giving it a thought, Dane leaped forward, unable to stop himself.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, wading in, the water biting its way up his thighs, till it hit his jackass of a groin.

  “Dane?” She looked up at him from the water.

  He gritted his teeth against the cold. “Yeah.”

  “I slipped,” she said simply.

  Talking to her would surely fix this madness. Because once he was fully cognizant of the fact that she was Bea all of these feelings would go away.

  “Why are you in the river?” he asked.

  “Evan stole my...” She seemed to be searching for words. “Evan stole my clothes.”

  “Evan stole your clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  He frowned. “Well.”

  “And the little bandit flung them into the river when he saw I was going to catch him. Now I’m trying to get them.”

  “I see that.” More of it than he’d bargained for.

  “Except it’s so slippery.” She began to swim, her dress flowing out around her, visible through the dark water as she went toward one of the pieces of fabric that floated on the surface.

  And he was just staring. Like an asshole.

  He charged forward, figuring forcing his body into a shocked state of cold was better than standing there working up an inappropriate boner for a woman who was practically his younger sister.

  His boots were filled with frigid liquid, and he could feel them sloshing even beneath the surface. He was a dumbass. And now he was a dumbass with wet jeans and wet boots.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Helping,” he bit out.

  “Appreciated,” she said. “Except I was the only one who was wet. And now you’re wet too.”

  “Thank you,” he gritted out. “I am aware.”

  He lurched forward, reaching out and grabbing the pale peach fabric floating on the surface. And it was only just as he closed his hand around it that he realized what he was grabbing.

  A pair of flimsy. Lacy. Panties.

  Bea’s panties.

  He did his best not to react. Which was a damned trick, since it was like he’d been reaching out to grab an innocuous stick only to find out it had fangs.

  He turned around, and Bea was suddenly there, mostly submerged still, and thank God. But she was looking up at him with utterly pink cheeks, water clinging to her lashes, her lips shining and full and somehow incredibly noticeable.

  “I think those are mine,” she said.

  He bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, I assumed they weren’t Evan’s.”

  “Thank you,” she said, straightening, and reaching out her hand.

  And giving him an up-close view of what he had seen from the bank earlier.

  She didn’t know. Obviously. Didn’t realize that he could see the outline of what appeared to be a very thin white bra underneath the white dress. That he could see the exact size and shape of her breasts, and the way that her nipples had pulled into points. Because of the cold.

  He dragged his eyes back up to hers, unable to believe that this was happening to him right now.

  “A man sees a damsel in distress, it’s the least he can do. If you ever get tied to any railroad tracks, I’ll be there to help out with that too.”

  Bea rolled her eyes. “Evan doesn’t have thumbs, Dane. He’s not going to be tying me to the railroad tracks any time soon.”

  “Who knows?” Dane said, backing away. “The little bastard can obviously open windows.”

  “That is true.” She was still standing there, arm stretched toward him. “May I have my underwear back now?”

  Dammit.

  He shoved them into her hand. “I don’t have any use for them.”

  She slunk back down into the water and paddled back toward shore, and Dane stayed firmly waist deep in the cold water while she got out, that white dress clinging just as tightly to her ass as it had been to the rest of her.

  Well, who the hell knew Beatrix Leighton had curves like that.

  He certainly hadn’t, because he had never looked at them before. Because why would he? What kind of pervert would he be if he did?

  On the other hand. He was also a man. And this was kind of an extraordinary circumstance. One where he had been celibate for quite some time. One where she was prancing around like a wood nymph in a transparent dress.

  He would defy any man to behave better than he was right now.

  He wasn’t even misbehaving. He was observing. Observing that he could see the color of her pale skin beneath the dress as it tangled around her legs. Observing that her ass was perfectly rounded, and just the kind of ass that a man could take a big handful of while he held her tight.

  An observation.

  Along with the observation that she had a sweet, narrow waist and... She turned to the side, yeah. Those breasts.

  “I need to go get changed before we start...doing the chicken coop.”

  “I’m probably going to have to do the same,” he said.

  “Come on,” she said.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, not wanting to leave the punishing shelter of the water, because the fact that his dick was submerged at the moment was probably the only reason he didn’t have a hard-on.

  The discomfort of the wet denim, and the biting cold of the water was the exact combination he needed right now.

  But he also wasn’t going to ostentatiously stand in a creek like there was something wrong. He wasn’t going to show her that anything was wrong.

  So he got up out of the water, training his gaze away from her body. But it was tough, because her eyes fell down to his lower half, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips as she looked at the wet denim.

  Great. Glad she was so damned amused.

  He was not amused.

  “I have a mess to clean up in my house,” she said, reaching up and fluffing her curls, then shaking her head out like a small, woodland animal, droplets
flying around her. Then she smiled. Like she was pure innocence.

  With a body that looked like a sure path to damnation.

  “I saw.” He pushed the words through his tightened throat.

  “I was going to invite you over for dinner, since you’re helping with the chicken coop. But, now all of my food is... Well, I don’t know what survived the ransack.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “We could eat Evan for dinner.”

  He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Like I believe that.”

  “I am about mad enough to roast him at this point.” She shot an evil look across the river, and his gaze caught a drop of water slowly rolling down the side of her neck. To her collarbone. Down to her...

  “Beatrix,” he gritted out. “Why don’t you go get dressed?”

  She blinked. “I’m dressed, I’m just...”

  She looked down, and he could see the moment she realized that her dress had gone see-through. “Oh. I...” She backed away. “I’ll see you later.”

  She took off through the trees, and Dane just stood there, wondering how the hell the world seemed to be straight all around him when he felt like it had shifted beneath his feet.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BEA WAS ONLY mildly dented by the time she emerged from her cabin again, feeling sheepish and red-faced and hoping that she could possibly face Dane again after the transparent dress incident. It would have been better if she hadn’t realized. But, she’d just been standing there talking at him with all of her...everything plainly visible.

  And he had been...she couldn’t put a name to what he’d been. Stoic. But firm about her needing to go and get decent. And just so...flat. It was strange. She’d never seen him look like that before, his lips set into a grim line, his eyes cool and unfocused.

  She didn’t know how she felt about any of it. Just weird. And wound up. And mostly like she wanted to hide in her cabin for the rest of the evening. But they had a chicken coop to refurbish.

  She cast her eye over the pantry, unsure of what to grab. It wasn’t like Evan had gotten into everything, but he had done a fair number on the pantry and after her little embarrassment, she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, anyway.

  She felt... She didn’t even know how to describe it. She had never been even close to naked in front of a man before, and now Dane had seen...some things. And his response had been so tense. Which, she got. He was obviously embarrassed for both of them, and really, he should be.

  She felt...

  Like a naughty child who had been sent to her room. And actually, that bothered her more than the nudity.

  She was a woman. She wasn’t a child. And he had looked at her like she was... It was so dispassionate. So negative and...

  She was wrong. Again. Like everything about her was wrong.

  She gave up on food and clambered outside, heading toward the chicken coop, where Dane already was. Joe was lying down beside him, on his blanket, which Dane dragged everywhere with them. Not a big surprise considering Dane was turning into a softy where Joe was concerned.

  There was also a cooler beside him, and that did surprise her. Because somehow, he had managed to get changed and collect something in the time it had taken her to change into something that was not translucent, and to steel her courage and come back outside.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the basket.

  “Food,” he said simply.

  “What food?”

  “Dinner. Nothing fancy. I had some leftover fried chicken. It’s cold, but there is macaroni salad and some biscuits in the cooler too.”

  “Dane,” she said, lowering her brows, “you want me to eat chicken while we build a house for rescue chickens?”

  He tapped his chin. “Now that you mention it, that does seem... Well, it seems right to me. I’m sacrificing my time to the chickens. They can sacrifice something to me.”

  “Sacrificing some time is hardly the same as sacrificing a thigh.”

  “Hell, woman,” he said, gesturing toward his leg. “I am sacrificing a thigh to do this. My leg has seen better days.”

  “I guess so.” She laughed. And it felt...well, normal at least. Not entirely back on their normal footing, but then, she wasn’t sure what their normal footing was.

  They weren’t exactly friends. They weren’t really family. She’d had a crush on him for most of her life, and he’d been something of a distant, benevolent symbol during that time.

  But there was something about his accident that had made them a lot more like equals, and neither of them seemed to quite know what to do with that at any given time.

  But at least this didn’t feel horrifying in the way the inadvertent exposure an hour or so ago had. At least this felt companionable and comfortable.

  Not so much like she had lost her protective outer shell and left herself exposed to censure and the elements.

  “I can fix your windows tonight,” Dane said, conversationally as he began to unroll a spool of chicken wire.

  “That might be nice,” Bea said.

  “Do you think Evan is going to come back today?”

  “That’s very hard to say. He’s cheeky, but he also knows when he’s in trouble. And he’s kind of...partly rehabilitated into the wild.”

  “Right. And just domestic enough to be a pain in the ass.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t tell him that she also fed Evan every night. So, odds were he would be back to check and see if she still liked him enough to give him a treat.

  And of course she did.

  Stupid animal.

  Without talking, she and Dane worked on the chicken wire, stretching it over one of the new sections of coop he had built earlier in the week. They were very nearly done. After this, there was only the brand-new door to put on. The old one had been completely unsalvageable. It had rusted hinges, plus it hung crooked. She needed to be able to get in and out easily. But, she also needed Evan to not be able to get in or out easily.

  “I bought a couple of locks for the windows when I went into town earlier,” Dane said, once they were finished with the chicken wire.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Locks have never really been a concern out here.”

  “Yes, the only kind of burglar you have to worry about is a strange, furry kind.”

  “True,” she said.

  Dane sat down on a part of the ground that was slightly raised, groaning as he did.

  “You must be tired,” she said, suddenly realizing how much of an effort he had put in today. He had been at Get Out of Dodge earlier, and then he had come here. And engaged in a water rescue for her underwear. She had been so lost in her own embarrassment she hadn’t fully realized that the whole endeavor had probably physically taxed Dane.

  Which could explain his reaction to it all.

  Which meant maybe he hadn’t been angry.

  Maybe he’d felt nothing.

  Somehow, that was worse and she didn’t even know why.

  He grabbed the cooler and opened it, pulling out a piece of chicken and biting into it ferociously. She sidled up to him and picked through the pieces till she found a leg, sitting with the cooler between them and starting on her own dinner.

  Joe approached on unsteady legs, and looked at Dane, clearly expecting some food.

  “No chicken bones,” Bea said.

  “Really?” Dane asked. “Why not?”

  “They splinter. They’re bad for dogs.”

  He shook his head. “You’re going to have to give me a list of things that are bad for dogs,” he said. “Because I really don’t know anything about them.”

  “I can do that,” she said. “He can have some chicken skin though,” Bea said, peeling a little bit off the drumstick and offering it to the dog.

  “You’re going to spoil him,” Dane said, his tone disapproving.

 
“Are you telling me you haven’t already fed him food off your plate?”

  “No,” Dane said while steadily peeling a piece of skin from his chicken breast. “Of course not.” He tossed the scrap to the dog, and then winked at her.

  Her heart flipped, her stomach tightening. Normally at this moment, Dane would look away. Or he would say something that would remind her that he didn’t feel any of this, regardless of what she felt.

  Except, he was still looking at her.

  And the light in his eyes was strange. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her lips. They felt conspicuous and dry all of a sudden, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

  She ignored it.

  For one breath.

  Two.

  And then, she had to do something. She had to lick them. She had to.

  She darted her tongue out and did it quickly, but she noticed when his eyes dropped down and followed the movement.

  Something fizzled in the air between them, like a sparkler. But when she looked there was nothing there. It was invisible. Something that seemed to exist on another wavelength. In the air first, beneath her skin the second.

  And then Dane drew back. Sharply.

  He pushed into a standing position. He took one more bite of the chicken and threw it back in the cooler. “It’s time to get the locks put on,” he said.

  She nodded, feeling slow and strange, and like she didn’t fully understand what had just happened.

  Her fingertips tingled. Her lips tingled.

  The tips of her breasts tingled.

  Dane went back to his truck and acquired the tools, silently setting to work on the locks. Bea hung back outside, not sure why she felt compelled to keep her distance from Dane. Not sure about much of anything.

  It wasn’t until after Dane had loaded up his tools, his cooler and his dog, and driven away that Bea had realized.

  That maybe, just maybe, what she had experienced wasn’t only inside her.

  But that maybe he had felt it too.

  She had no idea what to think of that.