Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana Book 3)

by Jane Porter

  “That’s not how I invited you.”

  “But it’s the role I play. Beck’s caregiver. Beck’s cousin. Beck’s special buddy.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “Or maybe I’ve just had it with being convenient. Maybe I’m tired of being that cheerful, giving woman who is here to make your life easier—”

  “You’re not that cheerful,” he interrupted. “And you’re far from convenient.” He marched to her, closing the distance between them. “In fact, what I feel for you is incredibly inconvenient.”

  She blinked up at him, lips parting slightly. “You have feelings for me?”

  “Hunger. Need. Want. Desire that never goes away.”

  Two bright spots of color flamed in her cheeks. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

  “You’ve lived in this house with me for weeks and it’s all I can do to keep my distance. I’m tired of keeping my distance. Tired of pretending you’re not beautiful, not tempting, not driving me crazy.” He caught her by the wrist and drew her toward him, pulling her against him, even as he shifted his left arm away, keeping it from being jostled. “I want you, Erika. I want you bad.”

  Her head tipped back, and her bright glowing eyes met his. “You only want me because you can’t have me.”

  “Not true. I want you because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and you fill my thoughts and you haunt my dreams, and I wake up every morning aching for you.” His head dropped, his lips brushing the curve of her warm cheek. She smelled like coconut cream, reminding him of summer and sunny beaches and icy blended cocktails. “At the same time, I’m not going to force you into kissing me. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want. So if you want me to let you go, tell me now, and I will. I’ll let you go and I’ll walk out of here and we’ll act like this has never happened.”

  “Even though it happened?”

  He laughed, a rumble of mocking sound. “Nothing has happened, and nothing will happen if you’re not interested.”

  He felt the tremor course through her, her slim frame swaying, her breasts brushing his chest even as her gaze searched his, the tip of her tongue darting out to touch her upper lip. “You know I like you,” she said lowly, as if in protest.

  “Not half as much as I like you.”

  Heat flared in her eyes, and she swayed against him again. He slid his right arm around her, his palm on the small of her back, pressing her closer. She shuddered at the contact, leaning against him more fully, and his body went hot and hard. She was warm, soft, everything he liked and he dropped his head, and captured her mouth with his.

  She tasted like cinnamon and sugar and he had to have more. He parted her lips, tongue stroking her soft mouth, and then inside of her mouth, showing her just what he wanted to do to her body. Love it. Taste it. Devour it.

  She whimpered and pressed closer. He stroked up her back, his hand sliding under her hair to her soft nape, his palm cupping the back of her head, fingers pressing against her scalp. The kiss was hot and hungry, full of weeks of pent-up desire. She looked like an angel but kissed like sin and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.

  Erika stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked her backward until he’d pushed her against the counter, the better to lean into her body, the better for creating pressure and friction.

  She must have liked the pressure of his erection against his thighs because she whimpered and shifted her hips, trying to capture more sensation. The sexy shift of her hips made him harden further. If she wanted pleasure, he knew just how to deliver. He’d make her feel so good she’d never want anyone else, ever again.

  The very idea of her with anyone else made him feel possessive, and he never felt possessive. How could he when he didn’t want a relationship?

  But kissing Erika, touching her, made him think that just maybe there was no one else he wanted to touch, and kiss, but her.

  And the realization that he wanted to be the one for her, the only one, shocked him. He broke off the kiss, stared down into her lovely eyes, eyes cloudy with passion and the sweet heat of their kiss, and wondered what had just happened? She’d just rocked his world but he didn’t know what to do about it.

  Didn’t know what to do with her.

  Normally, he’d take a woman to bed at this point, but there was no taking Erika to bed. That wasn’t the logical next step. Problem was, there was no logical next step. Not with her. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  *

  In her bedroom, Erika sank onto the edge of her bed, fingertips pressed to her swollen lips.

  That kiss was so good.

  So unbelievably hot.

  She exhaled slowly, lips still tingling, pulse thudding. She felt boneless. Spineless. Her insides hot, molten… matching the need aching within her.

  She wanted him, wanted so much more of him, and it didn’t make sense because she knew him and he wasn’t what she needed, but oh, she wanted him. She’d never felt this way before. She literally felt as if she burned… that he’d lit a fire inside of her and the fire had to be answered. The fire needed more heat, more touch, more of him.

  She knew who he was, too. She knew all too well how he operated. But her body didn’t care, and her heart, well, that had never listened very well to her, either.

  Her heart had a mind of its own and for some reason it just thought Billy Wyatt was it. The beginning and the end and everything in between.

  *

  Erika wasn’t the only one rattled by the kiss. Billy was in trouble. He already felt so much respect for her. Respect, and admiration, and trust. The chemistry had been there, too, chemistry that had drawn him in from the start, but he hadn’t expected a kiss to confuse him.

  Kisses weren’t confusing.

  But that one was.

  After walking away from her in the kitchen, he’d headed outside. The sun had come and gone, the sky was lavender in places, and purple in others. He walked to the corral, empty now, his horses in their stalls in the barn for the night, and leaned into the top railing. He felt turned inside out, his chest all knotted, his gut cramping with needles and pins.

  Erika.

  Man, she’d felt good. Unbelievably good. As he’d stroked the length of her, she’d shivered and arched and her sensitivity had driven him wild. If just kissing her fully clothed was that electric, he couldn’t imagine her in bed. Or, he could, and it made him hard, and throb, as if he were an inexperienced kid. But he wasn’t inexperienced, and he’d had more than his fair share of women, but he couldn’t remember any woman turning him on this much.

  He couldn’t remember feeling so primal about a woman, either.

  When she’d been in his arms, all he could think was mine. Mine, mine, mine.

  Crazy.

  He wasn’t possessive, he didn’t ever feel a need to lay claim to a woman. Why would he, when he didn’t think long-term? But tonight, kissing Erika, he did. He wanted her, and it had crossed his mind that if he were a caveman, he’d throw her over his shoulder and run to his cave, make love to her there so that she’d never leave his bearskin. Never leave his fire.

  The fact that he was even thinking these thoughts meant he’d lost his mind.

  He’d spent too much time in the cabin, too much time in lockdown. He needed to get back on the road, back to his world of asphalt and trailers, parking lots and competition. A couple weeks of tough rides and hard falls should clear his head and remind him who he was.

  A confirmed bachelor.

  A man without commitments.

  Because he didn’t commit. He didn’t fall in love. He couldn’t promise her forever.

  Until he was traveling again, he had to be careful to put distance between them.

  Actual, physical distance, as well as more boundaries—space, time apart, less intimate situations. And certainly, no more touching, no more kissing, no more displays of affection.

  *

  The next morning, after c
offee, Billy exiled himself to the barn. He didn’t want eggs. He just wanted to be alone. It was the first time he’d spent an entire morning outside since his injury, and even though there were things he couldn’t do, there was a lot he could. He focused on the horses, and mucking stalls one-handed, and then gingerly bridling and saddling each, exercising both in the corral attached to the barn. It felt good to be in the saddle again, and even though his goal had been to exercise them, he realized he had needed the exercise, too.

  Erika appeared twice that morning, long blonde hair in a loose side braid, offering fresh coffee, and then later, wondering if he wanted lunch. He declined both offers and made a light remark about how he’d been sitting too much and eating too much and it was time to get back in shape.

  She looked worried but bit back whatever it was she wanted to say. He watched her return to the house, his gut tight, the air bottled in his chest because she could tell things were different between them and was worried she’d done something. He wanted to reassure her that she hadn’t done anything other than kiss him far too well, but how did you even have that conversation? You didn’t. So, as the cabin door closed behind her, he forced his attention back to his ride, nudging his gelding into a sprint across the soft dirt.

  *

  It was obvious Billy was avoiding her, and Erika gave him space all day, but by dinner time she’d had enough of his cagey distance and silence. She’d made a roast chicken, something that wasn’t hard, not after she looked up recipes online and was proud of her efforts, but then angry when Billy barely ate.

  “No breakfast,” she said, sitting back at the table, “no lunch and now hardly any dinner. What’s going on? Are you sick? In pain? Do I need to get you to a doctor?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he retorted, pushing aside his plate. “Just not hungry. Don’t take it personally.”

  “You’re always hungry, so yes, I’m taking it personally.”

  “Well, don’t. Everything’s fine—”

  “No, it’s not.” She reached for Beck’s plastic key ring and handed it back to him. “Things are not fine. You’ve shut me out, given me the big freeze, and, after last night, it’s kind of hurt my feelings.” Erika gave him a long, assessing look. “Was the kiss that disappointing? Did I not respond appropriately?”

  He winced. “It wasn’t bad, and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t know it. All I know is that you pushed me away from you last night and haven’t spoken more than a half dozen words since.” She swallowed hard but kept her composure. “Can you just fill me in so I know what’s going on here?”

  “Do you really not know?”

  “No. And I’m not in the mood for guessing games. Just treat me like I have half a brain and tell me what’s going on.”

  Billy stared at her a long minute. “I’m attracted to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s not okay. It’s a problem.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not going to muck our friendship up by making another move on you.”

  “Because I’m April’s cousin?”

  “No. Because you’re you. You’re not looking for a good time. You’re looking for a forever man, and that’s not me. We both know that. Don’t we?”

  She swallowed and gave a short nod, even as a part of her silently argued with him. He wasn’t as shallow as he claimed. He wasn’t the player he pretended to be. But at the same time, if he didn’t want more with her, he didn’t want more.

  “Okay then,” she said, rising from the table. “I’ll wash up.”

  Chapter Eleven

  For the next few weeks Billy and Erika maintained a polite façade of somewhat icy cordiality. She still made him breakfast in the morning, and they still watched TV in the evening, but there was little conversation. They’d watch the news and programs in silence and then Erika would excuse herself and go to bed.

  May first came and went, and Erika paid rent yet again on an apartment she hadn’t seen since February.

  Every day, she disappeared into her room after breakfast while Billy took care of Beck so she could work.

  Her progress was laughable, though. If she were being honest, it had ground to a stop. Like today, she just sat with her computer, and stared across the room, anxious, worried, heartsick.

  She was in trouble in so many ways. She wasn’t working, wasn’t being practical, wasn’t being realistic. She’d unplugged too much from her own life and was too caught up in what was happening here in this corner of southwest Utah.

  She loved the cabin, and the isolation. She loved Beck, and Billy. She loved the fantasy she’d helped create—being here was like playing house. She could almost pretend she was the mom, Billy was the dad, Beck was their baby. She could almost pretend that she and Billy had a relationship. She could almost pretend that things would work out and they’d be together, a happy ever after.

  But she knew.

  She knew the truth. She was just avoiding it and reality.

  Sighing, Erika forced her attention back to her computer screen, and lifted her hands, fingertips hovering over the keyboard. She reread her last paragraph, but no thoughts came, nothing she could write down. Fighting tears, Erika flipped through her notes, waiting for inspiration, or just for her brain to engage. She had to pull it together. She needed to focus. She couldn’t sit here daydreaming, wasting time in wishful thinking. She had work to do, and it was time she got it done—

  Her vision blurred, tears blinding her.

  She reached up and wiped them away, filled with self-loathing. When had she become so pathetic? What was wrong with her? This was her work, her job, her life.

  But was it?

  Did it have to be?

  Was it so wrong to want a break, to want to focus on the here and now?

  Erika stared at her computer screen for a long moment, then glanced out the window, toward the distant pink mountains. Every day, she thought of the drive and the hike. She remembered the sheer joy of being outside, moving, living, breathing. The joy of being in the moment. The joy of just feeling good, of feeling needed.

  That was what she wanted. That was all she wanted right now.

  Decision made, Erika opened her email and composed a message to her department chair, as well as her own advisor. She wasn’t giving up, but she was stepping away, at least for a little while.

  *

  Erika wasn’t sure how to tell Billy about her decision, or the email she’d sent to her academic advisor. He wouldn’t like it, and she worried he might blame himself, but she hadn’t done it for him. She’d done it for herself.

  At the same time, Billy was healing remarkably well. He’d gone to Cedar City twice to be seen by doctors, and on the last visit, he’d had an appointment with a physical therapist who’d sent him home with stretches and gentle exercises. But Billy didn’t do anything gently, and within days was back to working out, and the active life he’d led.

  Boom still came over to assist with certain chores, but Erika suspected Billy just liked Boom’s company, and wanted to shoot the breeze with him. Billy seemed most comfortable outside, or in the barn.

  She said as much one day, early in May. “You’re recovering fast. Even faster than the doctors expected.”

  “It’s good. I don’t like feeling helpless. I hated adding to your worries when you’ve had so much pressure on you with your dissertation.”

  This was probably the time to tell him she wasn’t feeling pressure, not anymore, and wouldn’t feel pressure for quite some time since she’d asked for an extension and had been granted it.

  But she didn’t say it, because her mind was on other things, like Billy, and that kiss from a few weeks ago, and how she wished every day he’d kiss her again. How she wished right now he’d kiss her again. He was standing so close, smelling of hay and sunshine, looking even more gorgeous, if such a thing was possible. Faint creases fanned at his eyes, and there was a little groove next to his mouth that deepened when he smiled. S
he’d come to know his face so well, and it was a face she loved to study when he wasn’t paying attention to her.

  “It was never a hardship,” she said, fingers itching to reach out and grab his belt, and pull him toward her. She’d loved those weeks where he’d needed her help with bandages and slings. It had been too long since he’d needed her help and she could feel his warmth, and the press of that impressive chest. “You never complained, and you always did try to help me, despite your limitations.”

  Suddenly he reached out and brushed a long tendril of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “You’ve gotten pretty good at eggs. Scrambled and fried. I’m impressed.”

  She pursed her lips, trying not to smile. He was so lovely and awful at the same time. She never knew if she wanted to punch him or kiss him—

  Okay, not true.

  She was desperate to kiss him again. Her body hummed with tension all day long, her skin so sensitive, lips tingling. If only he’d kiss her and maybe it wouldn’t be as good as the first time. Maybe she’d realize that had been a fluke, and she’d not want his mouth on hers, or kissing his way down her neck, or covering her nipple—

  “Nipple?” he said. “What?”

  Erika threw her head back, horrified, her gaze locking with his. “What did you say?”

  “What did you say? Nipple?”

  Heat burned her cheeks, her face blisteringly hot. “No. Why would I say that?”

  “I don’t know.” His gaze dropped and lingered on her breasts. “But now that you mention it—”

  “I didn’t mention it. You did. I don’t even know what’s going on.” Flustered, she marched to the sink, checking for dirty dishes. There were none. She looked at the coffeepot. It was empty. Maybe she should make a fresh pot. “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, tone brisk.

  He laughed softly behind her. “No.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Had lunch already.”

  “Snack?”

  He didn’t answer, and the silence wasn’t quiet, but a taut, listening awareness that made her insides do a funny flip, and the hair rise on her nape. Even without looking at him, she knew he was looking at her, and she could feel the heat in his eyes, feel the sizzling energy between them. It had been like this for weeks now. No physical contact, just endless sparks and tingling awareness, an awareness that made her chest tight and her body ache.