My One and Only Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  “So it’s just a kiss?” she asked. “We get it out of our systems and that’s that?”

  Encouraged, he took a step closer, wrapping his hand around hers.

  “That might be all it takes to free us from this tension we keep running into,” he said with a grin, but it was a lie. He knew the second his lips touched hers he’d already be counting the minutes until he could kiss her again. And he also knew he couldn’t give her what she deserved, even if the timing of their meeting had been different. “But if it’s not,” he continued, “I need you to know that while I’d never do what Wade did, I’m not a forever kind of guy, Delaney. You saw my father. You saw what my future might look like, and I can’t—I won’t put someone through that.”

  His father’s illness tore his family apart. He wouldn’t chance doing the same to a family of his own.

  She let his hand go and pressed both her palms to his chest.

  He held his breath as she rose onto her toes, her lips a breath away from his.

  “Maybe we could just enjoy the week and not worry about what comes next until we get there?”

  He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close.

  “You deserve better,” he said.

  “I’ve had worse.” She winked at him. “I like you, Sam. You’re a good man with a lot on his plate, and I’d be a lucky girl to get to spend the week with you.”

  They were stuck in limbo until the courthouse opened back up, and she wanted to spend that time in limbo together.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “All I’ve been able to think about for two days is kissing you, Vegas.” Even when he’d left her stranded, he didn’t forget about her. Not every jab at the speed bag was to work through what happened with his father that morning. Some were in the hopes of clearing his mind of her—of wanting her when he knew it couldn’t end well for either of them.

  It hadn’t worked.

  Delaney swallowed. “It’s all I’ve thought about too.”

  “What if we stopped thinking about it?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  She nodded. “Thinking is totally overrated. I’m more of a doer.”

  He dipped his head and let his bottom lip lightly brush hers, and either another storm was brewing or they’d just created an electricity all their own.

  She sucked in a sharp breath, and his heart raced. She had to have felt it too.

  “You sure?” he asked. There was no question in Sam’s mind that he wanted this, wanted her.

  “Mm-hmm,” she hummed.

  Maybe she couldn’t carry a tune, but that sound was absolute music to his ears.

  Finally, after two days that felt like as many lifetimes, he kissed her.

  Sam’s heart raced. He tried to take it slow—to protect his nose, for crying out loud—but two days of wondering and wanting and needing took over when she parted her lips and let her tongue slip past his.

  All he’d wanted today was to escape. If only he’d realized sooner that she was the answer. Her soft skin. Her warm lips. She tasted like sweet release. Like salvation. Like everything he never knew he needed.

  “Vegas,” he whispered, wondering if she could hear that need.

  “Sam,” she answered, breathless.

  He slid his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her onto his hips.

  She yelped with laughter.

  “Keep me company,” he said, glancing back toward the bathroom door where the shower beckoned.

  Her eyes grew wide. “I promised Carter—I mean, you’re supposed to rest.”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just bruised, remember?”

  “That was Carter’s educated guess. You didn’t get a second opinion. What if it is broken?”

  He backed slowly toward the bathroom. “Then the treatment would be exactly the same. Unless, of course, it heals crooked. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Broken, not broken. He didn’t care. The only thing that mattered right now was showing her that despite his abandoning her earlier—despite her excellent right hook—the day wasn’t a total wash.

  “Sam…”

  “Vegas?”

  “You need to ice your nose, and rest, and that kiss was amazing but—”

  “It’s just a shower,” he said. “We’ve already seen each other naked, so it’s not like this is anything new.” He smiled, but it was absolutely something new. What happened at the swimming hole—or what almost happened—was spontaneous. Now they were talking, being logical, and deciding.

  She brushed a soft kiss against his lips, humming a delicious mmm as she did.

  “So you’re not suggesting we—”

  He shook his head. “Not yet, at least. Don’t get me wrong. I want to…”

  “But we should wait,” she said.

  He heard the question in her voice and nodded his agreement. He’d follow her lead and take it slow. After all, they had over a whole week. Right now, he just wanted to be close to her. To touch her. To kiss her until their lips were swollen.

  He set her down on the rug and started the water. They kicked off their shoes and toed off their socks as though it were a dance they’d performed a hundred times.

  She pulled her dress over her head, and his eyes widened.

  “Vegas, are you going commando today?”

  She skimmed her teeth over her bottom lip and smiled.

  That tidbit of knowledge had him hard in a fraction of a second.

  She glanced down at his shorts and back up at him, brows raised.

  “Just because we’re waiting for…you know,” she said, “doesn’t mean I can’t help you with…you know.”

  She pressed her palm between his legs, and he groaned. Seconds later she had his shorts on the floor and was leading him into the steam-filled shower.

  Once under the warm spray of water, she kissed him hard, stroking him from root to tip. He slipped a hand between her legs, dipping one finger inside her. She sucked in a sharp breath.

  She looked at him, her eyes earnest and full of longing, and he wondered if she saw the same in his. Because good lord he longed for every part of her to be touching every part of him.

  She gripped him tighter, and he hissed in a breath.

  “Did I hurt you?” she asked, eyes wide.

  He laughed. “No, Vegas. You just drive me so damned crazy, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “All I want to do right now is make you feel better.”

  She spun him toward the shower spray. The water hit his back in warm, massaging relief, and he let out a long breath.

  She combed her fingers through his wet hair, then planted a trail of kisses from his chest up to his neck until she had to stand on the tips of her toes to reach his lips. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, and she smiled against him.

  “Are you sure about this week?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure about anything,” she said. “Not one single thing in my life except this—us—in this moment.”

  That was when it hit him, how long it had been since he’d simply lived in the moment instead of worrying about the next bill, his father’s next episode, or whether he was about to lose half his land to the woman in his arms.

  He kissed her, slow and deep, until it felt as if she were melting into him.

  “I know exactly what you mean, Vegas.”

  He felt the shared understanding between them. Something he couldn’t name. He’d been with women he’d known for less time than he’d known Delaney, but this was different.

  “Stop thinking,” he growled before realizing he’d said it out loud.

  Delaney’s eyes fluttered open. Then she smiled and kissed him.

  “Stop thinking, Sam,” she said, her voice pleading as she repeated his words. “Be here with me. Right now.”

  So he stopped thinking altogether and kissed her, letting his unquestionable need take the wheel.

  When the hot water was lon
g gone, they retreated, naked, to Delaney’s bed.

  She burrowed into the space between Sam’s arm and the rest of his body. Sam stroked his fingers through her wet hair, wondering how long they could stay like this before he had to start thinking again.

  “That is probably not what Carter meant about you heading home to rest.”

  She stroked his chest, and he picked up her hand, kissed her palm.

  “This was way better than rest,” he said, his last word swallowed by a yawn.

  Delaney laughed. “Bet that nap is sounding awfully good right about now.”

  It was getting harder to argue against the suggestion. His body felt heavy, his head foggy.

  “Sleep,” she said, pulling the bedding up over his waist before sliding out of the bed.

  “I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes,” he insisted.

  He heard the bathroom door snick shut and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

  “Just a few minutes,” he mumbled once more, then drifted off before reality invaded his world again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam had been sleeping for almost an hour already, but Delaney couldn’t relax—couldn’t keep her mind from racing. So she left him in bed and headed to the guest house’s laundry room, throwing in her muddy clothes from the day before, everything she’d worn since, and the package of cotton underwear she bought at Rite Aid—minus the pair she’d thrown on under her sundress. She found an ice machine down the hall and filled the tote bag containing the thawing frozen peas with enough ice to keep them cold for at least another hour or two—until the bag became a leaky mess. She could do this, right? Spend a week with a man she really liked and then part as friends in a war over land.

  She grimaced. Everything that led her to this point in her life happened because she let herself get swept away by a man who made promises he couldn’t keep. But Sam had been honest, had told her what he could give and what his limits were. There would be no getting swept away if she already knew Sam wasn’t the sort to sweep.

  She’d almost convinced herself, when her phone vibrated on top of the washer, and Delaney jumped when she saw the same number as the call she received the day before.

  He can’t hurt me anymore.

  She pushed back the fear and mustered all the anger and indignation her ex-husband deserved.

  “What do you want, Wade?” she asked, answering with no more greeting than that.

  “Sunshine,” he said. “Is that any way to talk to the man you promised to be with till death do us part?”

  She gritted her teeth. “That was when I was still falling for your tall tales. I’m not so naive anymore.”

  He chuckled, and she heard something sinister in his laugh she’d never noticed before.

  “I just want to catch up, darlin’. Why not tell me where you are—or why your aunt Deb is asking around about me after all this time? I’m not a big fan of lawyers, you know.”

  Her stomach lurched. That arrogant son of a—he didn’t even care if she knew he sold their property out from under her. He committed a felony, which could send him to jail, and he had the nerve to laugh.

  “I needed a break from Vegas, so I’m visiting some friends in LA. Not that I owe you any explanation,” she said. “What’s your excuse for being so hard to find?” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth.

  “So you do want to see me. I missed you, too, sunshine.”

  Her skin crawled. How? How had she been so blind? Wade’s top priority was only ever himself.

  “I divorced you, Wade. Or don’t you remember?”

  He chuckled again. “It’s only paper, sunshine. What we had was stronger than that, and you know it.”

  Her throat tightened. “You’re wrong,” she said. “And I’m not looking for you anymore, Wade. I have everything I need. So do me a favor and stay away from me and my family.”

  “Have fun visiting your friends, sunshine.”

  She ended the call without another word.

  She had renewed purpose now. She would get her hands on a copy of that quitclaim deed, take it back to Vegas, and prove she had never signed it, before Wade knew what hit him. She would figure everything else out—what that meant for her, for Sam—after that.

  She waited until the wash cycle was done and the clothes were in the dryer before heading back to the room. She’d come back for the laundry once it was done. She laughed softly as she slipped quietly through the door to find him still out like a light.

  “Doesn’t nap,” she said under her breath. “You sure showed me, cowboy.”

  But as she got closer to the bed, her desire to tease disintegrated. The late afternoon sun peeked in from the side of the window’s drawn shade, so even though the room was dark, she could see Sam’s bruised face.

  It was a small enough bruise, just under the inside corner of his eye, but it seemed to darken by the hour so that now anyone who looked at him would not be able to miss it.

  “You gonna stare at me all day, Vegas?” he said groggily, eyes still closed. “Heard these things called pictures last a heck of a lot longer.”

  “I wasn’t staring.” She turned on the bedside lamp, and he opened those beautiful dark eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the light. Delaney groaned and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Okay, fine, I was staring, but it’s only because the bruising is getting worse, and you haven’t iced since the fire station. Are you in any pain?”

  He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned. “If I am, are you gonna play doctor and take care of me?” The blanket and sheet she’d covered him with slipped down his chest, and she remembered that he was 100 percent naked beneath it.

  She grabbed a bag of peas out of the melting ice, dried it off on the bedspread, and pressed it gently over his nose and eye.

  He dropped back onto the pillow and moaned. “Hell, that feels good.”

  She raised a brow. “You are in pain. You know, you don’t lose any credibility in admitting it.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t get it, Vegas. I’m the guy who takes care of things. I don’t get taken care of.” He bolted upright. “Scout. I forgot about her when we—damn it. I gotta get out of here and back to work.”

  She cleared her throat—the sound intentional and exaggerated. “Scout’s fine. I walked her and made sure she was fed before I came looking for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “Wow,” he said sheepishly. “Thank you.”

  She raised her brows. “And I’m not letting you out of this bed until you’ve iced for ten to twenty minutes like Carter said.”

  He gritted his teeth and groaned, all flirtation gone.

  “You don’t even have any clothes to get back to work in. So how about slowing down that brain of yours and taking care of you so you’re well enough to take care of everything and everyone else.” She stood and crossed her arms. “Now sit up.”

  “What?” he asked. “First I have to rest and now I need to sit up? How about you make up your mind?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and he pushed himself up with the hand that wasn’t holding the peas to his face. She propped the pillows against the headboard, then crawled into the bed behind him, pulling him back so he rested against her chest.

  He let out a long breath, and she snaked her arms under his and pressed a soft kiss to his bare shoulder.

  “Is this an acceptable way to spend the next ten to twenty minutes?” she asked.

  “I suppose,” he said, and she laughed. She’d meant to come back to the room and tell Sam about Wade’s call. But he had too much on his mind to worry about her issues with the ex-husband she just wanted out of her life for good. Wade wasn’t Sam’s problem. He was hers. All that mattered now was taking care of a man who spent his life taking care of everyone and everything else.

  She clasped her hands around his torso and gave him a gentle squeeze, and she felt the tension leave his body as he relaxed against her.

  “I think you’re adapting
quite nicely to letting someone take care of you,” she said softly. And even though he was in her arms, she felt just as cared for too. She didn’t know it could be like this—the mere touch of someone else enough to assure her that she meant something. But somehow, with Sam, she knew it was more than acting on the pent-up chemistry that had been brewing between them. If they’d met under other circumstances, they might have actually had a shot at something real.

  Maybe they only had this week, but it was a week where both could be what the other needed. Where was the harm in that?

  He moved the bag of peas out of the way and tilted his head up to press his lips to hers.

  “I think I might actually like it,” he said, then went back to icing his face.

  That was the problem—how much she liked it too.

  After a good half hour of actual rest, they hopped in Sam’s truck and headed back to the small registration building. They could have walked, but Sam didn’t want anyone speculating about why his truck was parked outside the guest quarters for an extended period of time.

  “I’m fine to drive for thirty seconds,” he insisted, holding his hand out for the keys she still had in her bag. “Painkillers are doing their job, and in case you forgot what transpired this afternoon, Vegas, I think my body can handle driving from point A to point B.”

  She scoffed, but he could tell she knew he was right.

  He laughed, palm still upturned. “The keys?”

  She finally relented and handed them over. The swelling had actually gone down, reaffirming her trust in Carter’s firehouse diagnosis that Sam’s nose had only been bruised. In fact, other than the purple skin under his left eye, he almost looked like himself again. She credited that to her excellent bedside manner.

  Once inside the truck she asked the question that had been plaguing her since the incident. “What are you going to say, I mean…when people ask what happened?”

  He picked up his phone from the center console and unlocked it to show a string of text messages.

  “News travels fast in a small town, Vegas. Everybody already knows.”