Not My First Rodeo 2 Boxed Set

by Donna Alward

  “So you’re looking for a rancher.”

  Was she? Did she really want to be a farm wife? She had to admit she wouldn’t mind it, but it was more than that.

  She took another sip of whiskey. She’d had enough now that the edges of her restraint had softened somewhat. “Maybe I’m just romanticizing the kind of man I think ranchers are. Hardworking, loyal, ordinary, know-how-to-treat-their-women kind of guys.”

  “You didn’t have that with your husband.”

  “I thought I did. I was wrong, though.”

  “I heard he kind of failed on the loyalty front.”

  “If you mean loyalty to be synonymous with fidelity, you’ve nailed it.”

  She took a bigger gulp this time.

  “I did, and I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move on his part.”

  “Yes, it is. Anyway, he’s gone now. For the most part.” She looked up at Joe. “Would you ever cheat on someone, Joe?”

  No sooner was it out of her mouth than she regretted it. “Forget I asked that! That was totally out of line. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t be. And no, I wouldn’t. I’ve always said that a person should get out of a relationship first, if they want to be with someone else so badly.”

  She agreed. It still made her sick to her stomach thinking about her husband being with his now-girlfriend, and then coming home and crawling into bed with her. She’d once used the term “double dipping” with him and it had made him furious. The truth hurt. So had his anger.

  Joe put his plate down on the coffee table. “Listen. I know Darren is a jackass. I was working the day you called to have him removed from your apartment, remember? He seems to be having a hard time letting go.”

  “Which is ironic, considering he was the one to have the affair. Anyway, it’s in the past.”

  “And now you’re looking at dating again.”

  She laughed, lifting her glass in salute. “Know what’s even better? My profile’s only been up on the site for a few weeks. I haven’t even had any dates yet. I was kind of getting freaked out about it, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, when today happened.”

  His somber, gray gaze touched hers. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  She laughed again, a little knot of nerves tightening in her belly at his words. She drained her glass. She was definitely feeling a little woozy and less guarded than she probably should be. “Oh, there’s plenty wrong. Ask my ex.”

  “Not really a credible source, I don’t think,” Joe countered. “Here, let me take that glass.”

  “Is there any more?”

  “I think you’re in a good place now, Cass. Wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

  “Right. You’ve already seen me throw up once today.” She smiled at him, too bleary to be appalled. “That was pretty embarrassing.”

  “Like I said, I’ve seen worse. And you did hit the garbage can.” He put her empty glass on his plate. “It’s getting late. Maybe you want to try to get some sleep.”

  “Maybe. You do have a bathroom, right? I need to brush my teeth. And pee.” She looked up at him and shrugged. “I think I lost my verbal filter somewhere. Sorry.”

  “It’s just the adrenaline of the day, combined with fatigue and whiskey. It tends to have that effect. Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you the bathroom.” He grinned at her and stood, holding out his hand. She took it, let him tug her to her feet, and tried not to think about how strong and warm his fingers were around hers.

  She brushed her teeth and put on pajamas while tidying sounds came from the kitchen. At least she hadn’t grabbed her short nightie. It was bound to get cold in the night and there was some dignity to maintain. She’d packed pink-and-white PJs and she buttoned the shirt all the way to the top button. She left her bra on, too, not wanting to sport the “untethered” look in front of Joe. Well, maybe she did. Which was precisely why she shouldn’t. She hadn’t lost all sense.

  “I’m going to head in,” she called out, making a beeline for the bedroom. She scrambled beneath the sheets and pulled the blanket up to her chin. The mattress was comfortable; only a double size, but with plenty of room for one, or two if they wanted to be cozy. She heard Joe adding wood to the fire and then stoking it for the night; she closed her eyes and inhaled, and the scent of him rose up out of the bedding. The intimacy she’d worried about earlier came crashing back, and she pictured him sleeping in the bed, his dark hair on the pillow. She wondered if he slept in a T-shirt or just underwear…she just bet his chest would be muscled with a sprinkling of dark hair. Not too much; just enough to be manly. The muscles between her legs tightened and her breasts ached a little. Damn that whiskey. Damn her dry spell. Damn Joe for being so nice and so…sexy.

  He knocked on the doorframe. “Cassidy? Sorry, but I need to grab a pillow and a couple of spare blankets. I didn’t think you’d be in bed this fast.”

  His voice was low and husky, and sent shivers along her skin.

  “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

  He got blankets out of the chest, but the pillow was the one on the other side of the bed. The slight weight of his hands pressed against the bed as he turned down the quilt and slipped the pillow from beneath it. He was leaning over the bed a little and she wanted to reach for his tie and pull him onto the mattress with her.

  She could have died today. Now, in the stillness, that fact was seeping back into her consciousness, but without the buffer of adrenaline and shock. She could have died. But Joe was here and he was looking after her. Looking after her when no one else did. Even if it was his job, she appreciated it. More than he’d ever know.

  “Good night,” he whispered, and she felt the absence of him as he stepped back from the bed.

  “Good night, Joe,” she whispered back.

  The light stayed on in the living room for a little while; the glow of it crept over the doorway of the bedroom. Cassidy knew she shouldn’t, but she slid over to the far side of the bed and watched quietly as Joe spread the blankets on the sofa and plumped the pillow at one end. But the best part was when he stripped off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. She was right. He did have just the slightest bit of chest hair, and his upper body appeared hard and muscled. Her mouth went dry as he reached for the button on his pants, and she saw a flash of gray underwear as he dropped his uniform on the chair and then crawled under the blankets.

  No pajamas, then. No T-shirt. Just a pair of briefs and skin. Warm, soft skin.

  She waited a long time, listening for the sound of snoring. But her eyes grew heavy, and curled up in warm blankets with Joe’s woodsy scent surrounding her, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Five

  Listening to Cassidy’s deep breathing was nearly doing him in.

  Joe turned over onto his side, wishing he could fall asleep. Crime in their little town was generally the mild sort, and armed robbery was a total anomaly. But it wasn’t the seriousness of the crime keeping him awake. It was Cassidy, in his bed, dressed in some flimsy pink pajamas.

  Bringing her here might have been a mistake. In the office, it had seemed perfectly sensible and platonic. They’d always been friendly. But sitting with her on the sofa as she got tipsy on a little bit of whiskey was something else. She brought out his protective instincts. She brought out more than that, too. When she’d looked up at him and said that she trusted him today…something had changed. He’d felt it, like a thump to the chest. There was something about the way she’d looked into his eyes. Nothing was completely platonic. They were two people of roughly the same age, single, and damn, she was pretty. Even during the stress of the day, she’d managed to crack a few jokes. He admired that.

  He flipped over to his other side and closed his eyes, focused on slowing his breathing, and tried to lull himself into sleep. If only he could shut off his brain.

  She’d asked for more whiskey, and he’d been tempted to give it to her. But he’d also known it would be a mistake to indulge. He was supposed to be looking after her. He def
initely wasn’t supposed to be staring at her lips and thinking about kissing her. That would be totally inappropriate, considering the circumstances. He’d brought her here out of duty. Nothing more. Except she’d gone from sweet to sexy as hell right before his eyes, and he’d done the responsible thing and cut her off. For both their sakes.

  He was nearly asleep when her breathing changed. At first it was barely noticeable; just a hitch as she inhaled, and only every few breaths. But then her breathing sounded jerky and panicked. He sat up a bit, listening closely. Was she having a nightmare? He waited, wondering if she’d calm, not wanting to wake her if he didn’t have to.

  She made a few incoherent sounds, and what he thought were jumbled words that didn’t make any sense. Torn between going into the bedroom or staying put, he tightened his fingers around the cushion of the sofa and held his breath.

  And then she screamed.

  He was off the sofa in a heartbeat, across the room and into the dark bedroom. Cassidy was still asleep, and when he touched her, her muscles tensed beneath his fingers. “Cassidy, it’s Joe. Wake up.”

  He sat on the bed as she made a strangled sound. Shit. “Cassidy.” He spoke a bit louder. “Cassidy, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

  She came awake with a huge gasp, and even in the darkness her eyes were wide and scared. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and he tried to bring her out of the fear and into the present. “It’s Joe, Cassidy. You’re okay. You’re at my place and no one is going to hurt you.”

  “Joe?” She sat up, and then the trembling started. He ran his hands down the soft fabric of her sleeves. She shook beneath his touch.

  “Yes, it’s Joe. It’s over now. You’re okay.”

  She started to cry. What the hell was he supposed to do about that?

  “Here, here,” he soothed, and scooched up on the bed, gathering her in his arms as he went. She was shaking all over and gasping with little disjointed sobs. “Shh,” he said, feeling utterly helpless.

  “H-he was there. His face. But I could only see the g-gun.” She shuddered. “When it happened, all I could see was that black barrel. I kept waiting for it to go off.”

  “But it didn’t.”

  “I…it did in my dream. Oh God…”

  “Hush,” he said, pulling her closer. “Hang on to me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” The apology was drawn out, a pathetic little wail that reached in and touched his heart. She’d been strong all day. Even right after the robbery, she’d had a physical reaction and then had dealt with whatever needed to be done.

  He’d hoped the whiskey would help her relax and sleep straight through the night. But the nightmare wasn’t that surprising, really. After holding herself together all day, it was in sleep that the truth met no barriers.

  “Don’t apologize. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Just breathe. Nice, slow breaths. You’re okay. You’re at my cabin, and I’m here with you, and you’re fine.”

  He moved to sit back a little, but she clutched his arms, keeping him close. “Don’t go away yet, okay?”

  He swallowed tightly. It was torture, holding her this close, but he wouldn’t leave her, either. He rubbed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m right here.”

  She shifted her weight and his body tightened in response. Dammit. Her pajamas covered most of her body and weren’t particularly sexy, but it didn’t matter. They were soft and warm, like her. They smelled like vanilla and sugar…or was that her skin? She was nearly on his lap now, and if she moved another few inches it would be potentially embarrassing for them both. He only wore cotton shorts. The air in the bedroom was cold, but that didn’t seem to matter a bit where a certain body part was concerned. It was a damned inconvenient time to have a hard on.

  “He could have shot me,” she said quietly. The trembling had stopped, but she didn’t relinquish her hold on him. “He pointed the gun right at me. He held it against my neck. He could have shot any one of us.”

  “But he didn’t. And you stayed calm. You were really brave, Cass.”

  “I was terrified. I just kept thinking that if I was quiet, no one would get hurt. And that I’d do whatever I could to make sure I didn’t go with him.”

  “You did everything right.”

  “Then why am I so scared? If it’s over and I’m fine, why doesn’t it feel over?”

  There was a plaintive note in her voice and he closed his eyes. “Because it’s too new, and you’re still processing it all. It takes time.”

  “I feel like such a wimp.” She finally sat up a little. Not much; their bodies still touched in places and his arms were looped loosely around her. But she wasn’t burrowed into the hollow of his neck any longer, with her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “You’re not a wimp.” He leaned back and looked into her face. He could barely see her in the dark, but the numbers on the clock radio gave enough light that he could make out her shadowy features and how her lower lip quivered just a little.

  Damn, she knew how to make it difficult.

  He lifted his hand and put it gently along the curve of her face, rubbing his thumb along the crest of her cheekbone. “You’re not a wimp,” he repeated, trying not to think about how soft her hair was against his knuckles. But she leaned into his touch and her eyelids fluttered closed. It was wrong that he wanted her so much. He tried to remember that she was here in an “official” capacity. It didn’t seem to matter at all. Her eyes opened, her lips parted a little, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Cass,” he murmured.

  She didn’t answer. She simply tilted her head the tiniest bit, drifting closer. An unmistakable invitation. Against his better judgment, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

  Sweet Jesus. Her lips were warm, soft, and tasted like sugared whiskey. She responded, molding her mouth to his, meeting his tongue tentatively, then with more confidence as she melted into him.

  He hadn’t thought he could get much harder. He’d been wrong.

  “Mmm,” she murmured against his mouth, destroying any rational thought he might have had of ending the kiss. He nibbled on her lower lip and she gasped, her body straining against his. The flannel was soft, just like the rest of her, and he moved his hand from her face and slid it down, down, to find the curve of her bottom. He lifted and shifted her body until she was straddling him, his feet on the floor and her ankles looped behind his back.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, and he moved his hips just a little. “Joe. Oh.”

  She tilted her head back and he tasted the soft skin of her neck. But that didn’t last long as she leaned forward again, her hair falling over his shoulder as she kissed his jaw and licked along his earlobe. She smiled along his jawline and he was reminded of her saucy half-grin, the one she used when she was teasing. She’d been hiding her inner vixen behind a veneer of sweet politeness, hadn’t she? Her tongue took another lick at his ear and he shivered with pleasure. It took a lot to surprise Joe, but she’d done it in about ten seconds flat.

  He was going to explode if she wasn’t careful. Her hands moved over the bare skin of his back. “You’re so warm, Joe. So hard. Mmmm.”

  He scrambled to think of whether or not he had any condoms.

  Her fingers moved to her pajama top and started undoing buttons. She was still wearing her bra underneath the top, and he reached behind her back and undid the clasp. She didn’t even have the top off when he reached for her breast, fitting it into his palm. She made another small sound and pressed herself more firmly into his hand. God, she was going to be the death of him if she wasn’t careful.

  “Cass, we should stop. This… I shouldn’t be doing this.” He hated saying the words. They went completely against everything he was feeling right now.

  “Not yet,” she answered, urgency painting her words. “Touch me, Joe. I feel so alive when you touch me. I need to feel alive so badly.”

  He could do b
etter than that. He tightened his arm around her hips, pulling her flush against his erection, then dipped his head and pulled her nipple into his mouth.

  She cried out, the sound of it echoing through the cabin.

  Things got even hotter, their movements fevered and frantic. He laved at her breasts with his tongue, loving the feel of her hard nipples nearly as much as he loved the way she ground her hips against him. But he wanted better access to her skin, wanted to taste more of her, so he flipped her onto her back on the bed and dropped onto his elbow beside her. She gave a little squeak at the abrupt motion, but then that hint of a smile curved her lips again as she reached down and touched him through his shorts.

  “I want you,” she said. “So bad I might die from it.”

  Holy hell. He struggled to think rationally. They barely knew each other; they were more acquaintances than good friends. He was in a position of authority. She was vulnerable. He couldn’t sleep with her. He couldn’t. And yet he could already feel what it would be like: hot, tight, perfect.

  She didn’t really want him, anyway. She wanted the outlet. She wanted to feel alive and vital. To counter the fear and helplessness she’d felt today. It was just part of her reaction, wasn’t it? And one of them had to think with their brains.

  Her hand stroked and his eyes damned near rolled back in his head.

  He wouldn’t make love to her. He wouldn’t go that far. But he could give her what she really craved, and that was just as good. Well, almost as good. No sense lying to himself about that.

  He fastened his mouth on her nipple again and her body jerked. Damn, she liked that, and he took his time driving her crazy with his tongue. But he found something she liked better. He slid his hand down inside her pajamas, inside the soft panties, and touched her. To his surprise, she parted her knees automatically, granting him full access—a surprising gift that made him regret having to do the right thing.