The Cowboy and the Doctor

by Eve Gaddy

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I’m starving. What about you?”

  She gave up, knowing Dylan well enough by now to realize he wouldn’t talk until he felt like it. “I’m hungry too. What did Glory make for tonight?”

  “Chicken spaghetti. Which is why she told her little story about me and the plastic wrap.” He washed his hands at the sink, then got out plates for both of them. “There’s salad and French bread, too.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Sam fed Shadow, then washed up while Dylan got out the salad and popped the bread in the oven.

  They ate by candlelight in the kitchen, drinking wine and with classical piano music playing in the background. “Is this music by anyone I know?” Sam asked him.

  “Philip Wesley. He’s an incredible pianist and composer. This is ‘Moonlight and Jasmine’.”

  “It’s gorgeous. So romantic.”

  He grinned. “That was the object. Are you finished?”

  She nodded. “Except I’d like more wine.”

  “Are you staying the night or are you driving home?”

  “Staying.”

  “Good. Then you can have all the wine you want.”

  “Pour me some and I’ll take the dishes to the sink.”

  When she returned, Dylan grabbed her hand and tugged her down to sit in his lap. “I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you a toll for that wine.”

  Her lips curved upward. She put her arms around his neck. “And what would that toll be?”

  He pretended to think about it. “A kiss.”

  Sam kissed him, a brief, butterfly kiss to his mouth. “What if I want more wine?”

  “You’ll have to kiss me again.”

  She kissed him, this time slipping her tongue inside his mouth and teasing him to return the kiss. He groaned and cupped her breast through her shirt. She squirmed on his lap and felt an immediate response. He pushed back his chair and she straddled him. Even through her jeans and his, she felt him, hard and ready.

  It’s always like this with him. He touches me and I melt. The thought worried her a little but then he was pushing her shirt up, slipping his hand beneath her bra and caressing her bare breast and she was wrestling to get his shirt off. All she could think about was having his hands on her, his fingers inside her, his mouth on hers.

  Dylan stood and she wrapped her legs around him and locked her lips on his as he walked with her through the living room and on to his bedroom. Once there he tossed her on the bed and followed her down. They wrestled with clothes until they were both naked, or mostly so.

  He reached for a condom and she took it from him, rolling it down over his cock, which was clearly ready for her. Instead of lying back, she pushed him onto his back, straddled him and guided him inside her, gasping as he filled her. She started the slow, sensuous ride, throwing her head back, gasping with pleasure as he filled his hands with her breasts. The sweet friction pushed her higher, tighter. He grasped her hips and brought her down as he thrust upward. She cried out as she hit the crescendo and shattered, collapsing on his chest. He said her name, pumping in and out until he spilled inside her in his own climax.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shit, Dylan thought as he got out of bed to get rid of the condom. Tell me it didn’t—

  “The condom broke,” Sam said.

  “I’m sorry.” What the hell else could he say?

  “I won’t get pregnant. I’m on the pill. Do I need to worry about anything else?”

  “No. I’ve always used a condom. And believe it or not, I’ve never had one break before.”

  “Come here,” she said.

  He sat beside her on the bed. She sat up and kissed him. “I believe you. You don’t need to worry about me, either.”

  He smiled. “I wasn’t.” If Sam had any concerns, she’d have told him before they ever had sex.

  They took a shower together. After soaping each other, he kissed and licked his way down her beautiful body, laying his lips on every inch of her skin. When he was so hard he thought he’d die if he didn’t get inside her soon, he picked her up and put her back against the wall, her legs spread wide around his hips. Her sex was completely open to him and so damn tempting. He didn’t say anything. He looked at her, waiting for her decision.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He thrust deep inside her, feeling her muscles contracting around him, her soft, silken heat caressing his bare cock. She made sounds of pleasure, which made him even hotter. He couldn’t hold back for long, driving inside her again and again until he came with a roar.

  They dried off and he gave her a shirt to wear. One of his T-shirts that did nothing to hide the gorgeous body beneath it. He pulled on his boxers. “Are you hungry? I’m sure there’s dessert.”

  “Chocolate?”

  Dylan laughed. “I don’t know, but it’s a possibility.”

  They found a chocolate cake Glory had made. He had to laugh at how much Sam was enjoying it. She closed her eyes after each bite and moaned with pleasure. Finally, he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone have an orgasm over food.”

  Sam opened her eyes and frowned at him. “Do not try to ruin this for me. I’m not having a food orgasm. I’m simply enjoying possibly the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Glory will be happy to know that.”

  Sam got up and took her empty plate to the sink. “Will you tell her for me? I have to leave early so I can drop off Shadow at my house and change my clothes.”

  “You could leave Shadow here. We’d take care of him.”

  She walked back to the table. “But then I’ll have to come get him after work. I’m not sure how late I’ll be.”

  He reached for her hand and tugged her over to stand between his legs. “There’s an easy way to solve this problem.”

  “What problem? You mean going back and forth?”

  “You don’t have to do that, you know. You could stay with me.”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Every night.”

  “What?” She looked absolutely stunned.

  “Move in with me.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then her expression changed from surprise to understanding. “This is about the knife and the note, isn’t it? I told you I’m fine.”

  “That’s not what this is about, although it’s another good reason. Shadow likes it here too. I think he’s going to be a big help with Trouble.”

  “I’m not moving in with you because my dog and your horse have decided they’re BFFs.”

  “Then move in with me because you want to be with me.”

  “Oh, Dylan. You know I love being with you. But—”

  He pulled her into his lap and kissed her thoroughly. “Damn it, Sam. I want you to live here because I’m in love with you. It has nothing to do with any of the shit that’s been going on.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

  “Okay, maybe a little. But that isn’t the main reason. I love you,” he repeated. “I want you to live with me.”

  He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She hadn’t said she loved him. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe what was for him slam, bam, crazy in love wasn’t the same for her. Her expression softened. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “We haven’t been together very long.”

  “Long enough.”

  “I’ve never lived with anyone. Other than a roommate.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “I need to think about this. This isn’t something I can decide on the spur of the moment.”

  While it wasn’t the answer he’d wanted, it was a hell of a lot better than no or absolutely not. It wasn’t unreasonable for her to want time to think about such a big change. Instead of answering, Dylan kissed her.

  “What, no arguments?”

  “Darlin’, that is my argument.” He stood with her in his arms and started toward the bedroom.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He stopped walking and kissed
her again. “Just making sure you know what you’re missing.”

  She laughed. “And here I thought you’d argue.”

  “Making love is a lot more fun than arguing,” he told her, tossed her on the bed and followed her down.

  “You got that right,” she murmured.

  A couple of days after Dylan asked her to move in with him, Sam’s cell phone rang as she was on her way out the door to go to work. Caller ID said it was the Marietta Police Department. “May?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Do you have a minute?”

  “Just. Did you find out anything?”

  “I did. I have possible good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

  “Possible good news? What does that mean?”

  “We’re ninety percent sure your stalker isn’t Gary Baxter.”

  “Why ninety percent?”

  “Not long after he was released he got into a feud with a drug dealer. He was tortured and killed. His body was dumped into Lake Grapevine, but it wasn’t discovered for months. Because of the extent of the torture and the decomposition of the body, he couldn’t be positively identified. But they believe it was Baxter.”

  “I don’t know, May. It sounds like he could still be alive.”

  “They declined to do further testing. They’re going with whatever evidence they had to prove his identity.”

  “Do you believe it’s him?”

  May hesitated. “I’m keeping an open mind. But I think it’s worth looking into other possible suspects.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “The bad news is since he hasn’t been positively identified, Baxter is still a suspect and we don’t know who your stalker is.”

  “All in all, that sounds like shitty news to me.”

  “Not totally. I’ve been able to rule out a few of the men who are on that list you gave me. I have pictures of the others and I’m still working on the list, trying to rule out the remaining ones. They’re digital so I can email them to you.”

  She should remember what they all looked like, but with the exception of two or three, their features kind of ran together. And even the ones she remembered she hadn’t seen in quite a while. Honestly, she didn’t believe she could have seen one of the men and not recognized him. But she admitted it was a possibility. “I was about to leave for work. Email me and I’ll look at them when I have a chance.” She gave May her email address.

  “Got it. Do you have Dylan’s email? He should look at these too, in case one of them is familiar to him. Or I can email him.”

  “Could you go ahead and email Dylan? I don’t know when I’ll manage to look at them, much less forward them.” May agreed and Sam hung up, not holding out a lot of hope that the pictures would help her identify the man. At the very least he would have tried to hide his identity. It could be anyone in Marietta. Anyone in Marietta who’s watching you. The man seemed to know a lot about her movements. Still, all he’d done was commit some vandalism and leave a threatening note. Stuck in your door with a big-ass knife. Don’t forget that.

  She called Dylan and told him what May had found out. “She’ll be emailing the pictures to you as well. I’ll be late again tonight, so I won’t see you.”

  “Be careful,” Dylan said. “I’ve got a bad feeling the next thing he does will be significantly worse.”

  “You worry too much.” But all this waiting for the other shoe to drop gave her a bad feeling too. “I’ll text you when I get home and if you’re up you can call me.”

  “All right. I’ll talk to you later. Be careful.”

  Sam made sure Shadow had food and water and let him out one last time. She was still too concerned about him to give him the freedom to go in and out while she was gone. For all she knew this pervert could try to poison her dog and she wasn’t about to risk that.

  “Be a good boy,” she told him, with a last pat on the head.

  She’d thought about having an alarm installed after Dylan suggested it. First of all, she thought that was overkill in a town like Marietta. Secondly, if she moved in with Dylan then she wouldn’t need an alarm. She still hadn’t made up her mind about that.

  Dylan said he loved her. Was she being naive to believe him? Or was it more like wishful thinking? Sam had finally admitted, to herself, anyway, that she was in love with Dylan as much as he claimed to be with her. Something was keeping her from telling him. An overabundance of caution? Or something else? Even if she did tell him her feelings, moving in together was a huge step that she wasn’t quite ready for yet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dylan was mucking out a stall when he heard his brother Wyatt’s voice. “I thought you were the boss around here. Why is it every other time I see you, you’re mucking out stalls?”

  “Why don’t you grab a shovel and help me instead of standing around being a smartass?”

  “I’m not the one who wanted to be a rancher,” Wyatt said mildly. But he picked up a shovel and started helping. “Seriously, where the hell are your ranch hands?”

  “Connor, Al and Bret are bringing the horses in from the fields. I don’t know where the hell Monroe is. He’s supposed to be in here helping me.”

  “He not working out?”

  Dylan leaned on the fork and grimaced. “Not so much. None of the other hands like him. Glory says his eyes are shifty. Half the time I can’t find him. I’d fire him in a heartbeat if I knew Clay would be back soon. But he’s still got treatments left, and he’s going to be weak for a good while after that.” He tried not to think about what would happen if the treatments didn’t work.

  “So fire him and hire someone else.”

  “I’m thinking about it.” The guy had seemed awfully down and out when Dylan had hired him, but his work ethic left a lot to be desired.

  “Rumor has it you and Sam are hot and heavy.” Wyatt dumped manure into the wheelbarrow. “When’s the wedding?”

  Dylan knew Wyatt expected him to deny any thought of weddings. He obviously hadn’t talked to Glory in the past week or so since Dylan had asked Sam to move in with him. He’d thought it best to warn Glory that Sam might move in rather than spring it on her out of the blue. After all, Sam would be another person for Glory to fret over and take care of. There’s no way Glory could have kept that news a secret from Wyatt or any of his brothers. Dylan hadn’t bothered to ask her not to tell them. He knew once he told one brother, all of them would know within an hour.

  “There’s no wedding.”

  “Surprise,” Wyatt said dryly.

  “I asked Sam to move in with me.”

  Wyatt stopped in mid-shovel. “You, the last Gallagher bachelor, asked a woman to move in with you? Are you kidding me?”

  “I didn’t ask just any woman. I asked Sam. She’s thinking about it.”

  Wyatt stared at him. “You’re serious. You asked Sam to live with you?”

  “I did.”

  “Is she going to?”

  Dylan shrugged. “I think so. She says neither of us has ever lived with anyone, besides roommates or family, and we need to be sure.”

  Wyatt stopped shoveling, tilted his head and considered him. “Are you sure that’s not just bullshit?”

  “No. Goddamn it. How can I be? But Sam’s as independent as they come, so I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that it would take her a while to warm up to the idea. Hold on a minute.” He propped his fork against the wall and left the stall to go out in the corridor.

  He’d seen a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, when he rounded the corner, there was Monroe, standing around like he had nothing to do.

  “Having a nice break?”

  “Oh, sorry, Boss. I’ve been raking the round pen. Is there something else you want me to do?”

  Raking the round pen, his ass. He’d bet the man had done no more than push around a little horseshit. “You were supposed to be mucking out stalls while the horses were turned out.”

  Monroe looked at him blankly. Sometimes Dylan
wondered if he had a brain or his head really was as empty as it seemed. Irritated as shit, he shook his head. “Never mind. Go finish up. My brother and I were working on Sunshine’s stall.”

  “Gotcha, Boss.” Dylan followed him to the stall, partly to make sure he did what he’d told him to do and partly to get Wyatt.

  “Come on up to the house. We’ll have a beer before you leave. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  Once they were out of hearing distance, washing up at the sink, Wyatt said, “That’s the new guy?”

  “That’s him.”

  “He sure gives off a weird vibe. He didn’t say a word when he came into the stall. Just looked at me like I was a piece of horseshit that needed shoveling.”

  “Well...” He picked up a clean towel to dry his hands with.

  Wyatt punched him in the arm.

  Dylan laughed and tossed him the towel. As they walked to the house he said, “I’m worried about Sam.”

  “Worried she won’t move in with you?”

  “No, I think she will. Eventually.” Dylan opened the kitchen door and walked in. Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out a couple of beers and handed one to Wyatt. “I just hope it’s not too late.”

  “Too late? What does that mean?” Wyatt asked, following Dylan into the living room.

  Dylan sat on the comfortable couch. Glory kept hinting they needed a new one, but that was low on Dylan’s list of priorities. “Sam’s got a stalker.”

  “The hell you say. When did that happen?”

  “A few weeks ago. It started slow but it’s been escalating.” Dylan told Wyatt what had been going on, including why they thought the stalker was someone from Sam’s past. “May Rogers is investigating. All we know so far is the most likely suspect is believed to be dead.”

  “Believed to be or is dead?”

  “The Dallas cops think he’s dead but there’s been no positive ID. But he hasn’t surfaced anywhere that they know of, so that’s another reason to think he’s dead.

  “Damn. Are there other suspects?”

  “Yes. Sam thinks there are several men she testified against who might have it in for her.”