by Donna Alward
It’d been another day of cattle and planting God only knew how many flowers and shrubs around their barn—which he had also painted a bright red, at Karen’s direction. He was tired and dirty and frustrated and trying not to let any of that show to his dad and future stepmother, because he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.
What was he going to say? I was dating an older woman who occasionally cuffed me to the headboard? And then she dumped me? Because I asked her to marry me?
No, he knew how that would sound. Not good.
He put the last potted plant—maybe lavender, because it smelled real pretty—into the ground when he heard tires on gravel. Oh great—his dad was back from town with more plants. At the rate they were going, there wouldn’t be room to walk for all the flowers.
But when he turned around to direct his father to the one remaining area that was still bare, he didn’t see his dad’s truck.
He saw Carly’s car.
And then he saw Carly. Something in his chest clenched tight as he stared at her through the windshield. Oh God—she was here. She was really here—and he looked like hell.
That didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she had come for him.
He hoped. Jesus, he hoped.
He straightened up and tried to dust some of the dirt off his palms. And then he went to meet her.
She hadn’t moved. She was still sitting behind the wheel, looking almost as if she were going to change her mind, turn around, and drive right back off into the sunset. Tommy fought the urge to throw himself on the hood. That would be immature and that was not what Carly wanted.
So he went and stood beside the door, his hand on the handle until she gave a little nod of her head. Then he opened the door and said, “Carly—I wasn’t expecting you today.”
He had to think—was this one of her days off? No—it was Friday. That was weird.
“Hi,” she said tentatively. Then she swung her legs out of the car and he offered her one of his grimy hands to help her stand. She had on her favorite pair of black heels and dark hose—and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had on her garter belt and what color her panties were today. Because why else would she have on dark stockings in June?
But he pushed those thoughts aside. She’d made it clear that part of their relationship was done. He didn’t know why she was here, but he wasn’t going to assume anything.
She placed her hand in his and it became real then, that she was here—she was really here. God, he’d hardly allowed himself to dream of the moment when he got to see her, to touch her again. Her hand was light and warm in his and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms, breathe in her scent, and tell her that he was still hers.
He didn’t have to. She lifted his hand and stared pointedly at the leather cuff on his wrist. “I thought you might have taken it off.”
“No. I haven’t—except to shower.” He felt his cheeks getting hotter. “It’s gotten a little beat up. I’ve been working,” he explained. She was still holding his hand and he didn’t want to be the first break the contact.
She withdrew her hand anyway and he was forced to let go. She stepped back and give him the once over. “I see that. Ranch life agrees with you, I have to say. You really are a cowboy, aren’t you?”
She looked around, taking in the house, the red barn, and the seemingly thousands of flowers. While she did, Tommy took a good, long look at her. She had on a slim black skirt and a sleeveless white shirt that looked like it was silk. It draped over her body like a second skin. He looked at her hands. She didn’t have on any rings.
He couldn’t help himself. “You look good,” he told her. “Did you get the wedding invitation?”
“I did.” Her gaze swung back to him. She didn’t say anything else.
Her silence began to get to him. “Were you planning on coming to the wedding? We’re going to have it right here. Karen—my future stepmother—asked me to plant all these flowers so that it’d look good for the pictures.”
One corner of Carly’s mouth twitched into something that might’ve been a smile. “And you’ve been helping her out?”
It was a simple enough question, but coming out of her mouth—it meant something entirely different. “I have,” he replied, dropping his gaze to her feet.
“Tommy.” At the sound of her voice—stern and hard with a hint of humor in it—he went rock hard for her. He snapped his gaze back to her face, hoping and praying for something—anything—that would tell him they weren’t done.
She hesitated and then leaned forward. Her pupils dilated and he recognized all the signs. “Have you been a good boy?”
He didn’t know why she was here. Maybe she had come to torture him. Maybe she had gotten lonely and had driven the hour and a half because she knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no to her. Maybe she had come to give the ring back, finally. Maybe she had come to tell him to take the cuff off.
Whatever the reason, he didn’t care. Because for the first time in almost six weeks, he suddenly felt like things were right again. “Yes, ma’am.”
They both stood there. Tommy was afraid that if he did anything, he’d drive her off again. That’s what happened last time, after all. He’d gone too far, too fast. He shouldn’t have asked her to marry him. He shouldn’t have talked about the rest of their lives.
But he was a Tucker and when Tuckers decided to get married, they didn’t wait around.
She took a step back, breaking the tension between them. “Are you building a house?”
He stared at her for a second, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Then he remembered—he’d promised to build her house if she said yes to his proposal.
“No, actually. My dad and Karen are building a house closer to town. It’ll still be on our property, but Karen is going to open up a florist shop in Butte and that way, she won’t have as far to drive in the morning. I’m fixing this place up for myself.”
She notched an eyebrow at him and he added, “I grew up in this house. It’s a good house. Plenty of room.” He felt stupid. Why had he said that? God, she had his head turned around something fierce.
She nodded, as if they were making small talk. Why was she here? What did she want from him?
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I missed you. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”
“Are you?” She asked the question as if she didn’t know the answer. As if she thought he might have moved on in the last few weeks.
But there was no getting over her. “I am.” What the hell—he may never get another shot at her. “Did you miss me?”
Her cheeks colored prettily and he felt something that might be hope unclenching his chest. But she didn’t answer the question—not directly, anyway. “I’ve done a lot of thinking,” she said as she looked around at the ranch again. “About what you said.”
“Yeah?” He was trying so hard not to get his hopes up, but the fact was, he had told her to find him if she changed her mind. He’d thought she might message him on NotMy1stRodeo.com—he’d kept his profile active just in case—but this worked, too. “And what did you come up with?”
She wasn’t looking at him. “Did you know that Butte is bigger than Helena?”
He stared at her in confusion. “I… guess?”
“Well, it is.” Finally, her gaze swung around to him. “And did you know that there are almost forty restaurants in Butte?”
“No.” What was she saying? His heart began to pound in his chest so hard that his hands began to shake. He wanted to reach out and fold her into his arms, but he didn’t. He was not going to screw this up a second time. If she wanted him, she had to come to him.
More than she technically already had, that was.
He noticed for the first time that there was a jacket in the car that matched her skirt. Carly was usually dressed professionally, but a skirt suit was formal even by her standards.
“Carly, what’s going on?” She didn
’t seem to be in any hurry to tell him, and he wasn’t sure he could take much more of this.
“You can’t keep me,” she said, and any hope that Tommy had felt died in his chest. “I know we never talked about my marriage,” she went on, “but if we’re going to make this work, you have to understand that I have to have my own money and my own job.”
He gaped at her. “Wait—what?”
“I won’t give up my independence.” She said it as if she was pronouncing sentence upon him, as if that had been the deal-breaker.
He exhaled heavily. “I never asked you to.”
This time, she was the one who looked away. “I know that—now. But at the time, you caught me off guard and all I could hear was that you wanted to whisk me away to the middle of nowhere and it was hard for me to see how it was different than what my ex did to me.” When she looked at him again, he saw her eyes were watery. “Tommy, I’m so sorry. I said some horrible things to you—things you didn’t deserve.”
“Oh, babe—it was my fault. We hadn’t talked about the future at all and I sprung it on you. I should’ve known better.” He took a step toward her, but he didn’t touch her—not yet. “I would’ve stayed in Helena with you.”
“You would’ve come to resent me,” she said, looking around the ranch again. “This is beautiful. Now that I’ve seen you in your element, I can’t imagine asking you to live in that tiny little house with me. It wasn’t right and it was too much to ask of you.”
He shifted from foot to foot, stirring up little eddies of dust. She was right. For a couple of months, maybe a year—they would’ve been happy together. But that wasn’t his world. This was. “And it wasn’t right of me to ask you to give it up—your house and your job. I understand how important they are to you. But you know I’d give you anything you asked for.”
“Anything?”
“I want this to work, Carly. And since you’re here, I take it to mean that you want it to work, too.”
The look on her face reminded him of their first night together, when he’d accidentally touched her neck the wrong way and she’d tried to bolt on him. She’d stood in the doorway of her bedroom, so clearly torn between running and staying. It was the exact same look now, and he still had no idea which way she would go.
Then she reached under the collar of her shirt, between her breasts—his gaze followed her fingers as she pulled out a long thin chain that had been hidden beneath the silk.
On the end of the chain was the ring he’d given her.
She still had his ring. She was wearing it, right next to her heart.
“What if…” She looked down at the ring between her fingers. “What if this wasn’t the end?”
Oh dear God—please. Please. “I’m not done,” he said, closing the distance between them and brushing the cleanest spot of his body—the back of his hand—against her cheek. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch. “I took a new job,” she said in a shaky voice. “Cassondra’s Steakhouse had an opening for a manager and they hired me.”
His body jolted as if she hit him with a cattle prod. “Really? Does that mean—”
“I want to take this slow, Tommy. I rented an apartment not far from the restaurant.” She opened her eyes and swallowed nervously. “It’s the best I can do right now.”
Tommy dropped his hand and took a few steps away so that he could have room to think. The best she could do? “Let me see if I understand this correctly. You quit your job at Peachtree’s to take a job in Butte?”
“Yes,” she said, touching her palm to the spot where his hand had rested against her cheek.
“And your house? In Helena?”
“I put it on the market.”
Cattle prod? Hell—he felt like he’d tripped into an electric fence.
She had come for him. She still had his ring.
She must have misunderstood his silence. Her face paled. “If—if you can’t, I’ll—I’ll understand,” she said, stumbling over the words. “You don’t have to—”
She didn’t get finish that sentence because Tommy closed the distance between them and pulled her into him, not giving a rat’s ass about the fact that her white silk shirt was being ruined by his dirt and sweat. It didn’t matter.
She had figured out what she wanted and she had come to ask him for it. It was all he’d ever asked of her.
He kissed her long and hard and the miracle of it was that she kissed him back just as long and just as hard. His body was tight and hot against hers and he wanted to do nothing more than strip her out of her clothes and lay her out and make sure he did a damn good job eating her out before she’d let him come.
He broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. “Carly, I’m yours. You know I am, till the very end. Everything else will work out. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”
A huge grin broke out on her face as she threw back her head and laughed. “You. You are mine and I’m going to use you as I see fit.” He shuddered with need and, given how her eyes widened with desire, she felt it. She reached up and covered his cuff with her hand. “Mine until the very end.”
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
About the Author
Sarah M. Anderson is an award-winning author who writes contemporary snarky and sensual romances featuring cowboys and bull riders as well as billionaires with and without babies. She won RT Reviewer’s Choice 2012 Desire of the Year for A Man of Privilege. The Nanny Plan was a 2016 RITA® winner for Contemporary Romance: Short.
Sarah spends her days having conversations with imaginary cowboys and billionaires. Find out more at www.sarahmanderson.com and sign up for the new-release newsletter at http://bit.ly/sarahalerts.
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