My One and Only Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  He guessed people were likely staring, and perhaps there was a hoot and holler or two. But for the first time in—he couldn’t remember how long, he didn’t give a shit about who caught a glimpse behind the curtain, not when it meant he got to kiss the woman in his arms, to feel her body pressed against his, warm and soft and tasting of chocolate and berries and something so inherently her he’d know it even if he were blindfolded.

  He lifted his head to see her staring at him wide-eyed, a smile spread from ear to ear.

  “Wow,” she said. “I should dare you to do stuff more often. Oooh, I have another one. I dare you to cop a feel. No, wait! I dare you to swipe your hand across that picnic table, knocking all of Luis’s treats to the dirt, and take me right there!” She squeezed her legs around him, and he had half a mind to call her bluff. But the other half of his mind reminded him that throwing caution to the wind and kissing her senseless in front of an audience was about as far as his screw it! mentality could go.

  “Can we keep a mental list of all those things?” he asked. “Because as soon as we clean up here and get back to my place—”

  She cut him off with another kiss, and they spent the remainder of the bonfire enjoying Luis and Anna’s gourmet spread along with the guests while stealing kisses whenever they thought no one else was looking—or even when they knew they were.

  As the fire dwindled and guests started heading back to their rooms, Delaney grabbed the trash bin and winked at him. “I’m going to expedite the process, if that’s okay. We’ve got a list to take care of.”

  “Who’s got trash?” she called out to the crowd. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to get up. I’ll come to you!”

  She rounded the circle of guests, collecting offered remnants of their s’mores, even doing so much as to stack the paper plates and drop them in a smaller paper bag for composting back at the ranch.

  Sam shook his head and laughed. Not that he wanted any of his guests to feel rushed, but if Delaney’s trash collection meant the two of them would be alone sooner rather than later, so be it.

  They waited as the last of the guests made their way down the path and back toward the guest headquarters until they were the only two left. Sam went for the jugs of water Luis had wheeled over on the dolly along with the s’mores fixings.

  “Wait,” Delaney said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back to his rock. “Can we sit here awhile longer, just the two of us?”

  But our list.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, likely having read his mind. “Sit.”

  He sat.

  “Are you officially off duty now? Other than putting out the fire and bringing back all the kitchen stuff.”

  He nodded but patted his cell phone in his pocket. “But I’m on call.” Always on call. For the ranch, for his father, for just about everything.

  Delaney held her hands out toward the fire. She’d followed his advice and wore a hoodie and jeans, but the air still had a bite at night, sometimes getting as low as fifty degrees.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “A little. But you know how I like the cooler temps.” She bumped her knee against his. “You know, we’re the only ones here now. If you wanted to cop a feel, no one would see.”

  He tilted his head toward the star-studded sky and laughed. “You make it sound like we’re meeting under the bleachers at a high school football game. Kinda takes all the romance out of it when you put it that way, doesn’t it?”

  She spun on her rock, straddling it so she could face him. “Well now, cowboy. I don’t believe I was aware that I was being romanced.”

  He pivoted, too, mirroring her position, his knees brushing against hers. He slid his hands under her thighs, tugging her closer to the edge of her rock. The warmth the fire brought earlier had nothing on the spark that jolted through him when his body touched hers. “Maybe I don’t have time to wine and dine you or take you on an actual date, but I like to think my moves tend toward the romantic.”

  She snorted. “Saying the word ‘moves’ doesn’t really help either.”

  Sam was out of his element. He wanted her—yes. But he also wanted her to know that she meant something. That what they were possibly about to do meant more than two people satisfying a mutual need.

  “I have never met anyone like you, Delaney Harper. And I’m not sure I ever will again.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

  He laughed. “You’re smart and funny and spontaneous and sexier than anyone else who’s ever leveled me with a right hook.”

  Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath.

  “Sam…” was all she said, but it was all he needed.

  It was out there. She knew without his spelling it out. Even if he couldn’t give her a future, he could give as much of himself as possible tonight.

  He gently grabbed the bottom of her hoodie, his fingers playing with the material.

  “Are you teasing me again, Callahan?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  He raised a brow. “That depends on whether or not you find teasing to be one of my more successful moves.”

  His pinkie slipped under the thick cotton, tickling her abdomen over the ribbed tank she wore beneath.

  She wrapped a hand around his wrist, guiding it upward toward her breast. “That depends on your follow-through. Teasing me and leaving me wanting? Not a successful move. But teasing me and following through…”

  He felt the hardened peak of her breast beneath the tank, and his eyes widened.

  “Commando up top, Vegas?”

  She bit her lip and grinned. “Guess you could say my move is not wasting time with extra layers.”

  He pulled the loose tank down over her breast, her soft, warm skin enveloped in his palm.

  He detected a tremor in her next inhale.

  “I really, really like your moves,” he said, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  She hummed softly, then unzipped the hoodie so he could see her in the glow of the firelight—her creamy skin with its smattering of freckles, the pink circle of her areola, and the dark pebbled flesh ripe for a tiny, teasing taste.

  He pinched her between his thumb and forefinger, then dipped his head and flicked his tongue against her taut skin.

  She gasped, and he grazed her with his teeth.

  Her back arched as she whispered his name.

  There was no way he wanted to stop now, douse the fire, and clean up before he could give her what she needed—what they both needed—back at his place. Sam wanted her now. Here. Under the stars.

  He looked up and scanned his surroundings. The path out of the clearing and back to the main building was several yards long, and even after that the guest house was at least another thirty yards off, if not more. And the picnic table was on the far end of the bonfire, nowhere near the footpath.

  He pinched her again, and she cried out.

  “Dare me,” he said.

  “What?” she asked, her breath ragged.

  He eyed the picnic table, then met her gaze again.

  “Dare me, Vegas.”

  Her jaw dropped, and the reflection of the flames danced in her eyes.

  “I dare you to swipe your hand across that table and take me right here.”

  He swallowed. This was so far from taking it slow, but now he wanted to squeeze in every possible experience with her before their week was up.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I know what I want, which is not to waste any of the time we have left. But it has to be what you want too.” Whatever happened, he’d follow her lead. They were in this together.

  She shook her head. “I want to soak up every minute with you that I can.” She paused. “And I want you, Sam. All of you. No matter what happens next.”

  His throat tightened. Would she want him if he turned out like his father—if he forgot her name in twenty years or that they spent this inexplicable evening together?

 
; “I want all of you, too, Vegas” was all he said.

  Then he stood and held out his hand. She took it, letting him lead her to the table where, after one swoop of his forearm, the remnants of the s’mores fixings scattered across the dirt.

  “We should probably clean that up after,” she said with a smile.

  “Noted.”

  Then he laid her out on her back—his own veritable feast—and peeled off her hoodie and top.

  Her chest heaved with each breath, and he bent over her, his tongue licking a trail from her navel to her chest. He cupped one breast in his palm, laved her nipple with expert, tender care.

  “Does it taste as good as the other?” she teased, her words peppered with tiny gasps.

  “Better,” he said, his voice rough with need. “Every bit is better than the last. I don’t know how you do it.”

  He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t satisfy the ache in the pit of his stomach. With every nibble, every lap of his tongue, he simply wanted more.

  He wouldn’t think about the week ending or who owned what part of the land—only her and the fact that, if only for a little while, she was his and he was hers.

  Delaney Harper woke him up when he hadn’t even known he was sleeping, and for the first time in his life, reality was better than the dream.

  He kissed his way up her neck and felt her go to work with the button of his jeans. His lips reached hers right as she freed his erection from its confines, her hand wrapping firm around his pulsing length. She stroked him from root to tip, squeezing—not enough to inflict pain but just enough to drive him absolutely mad.

  “Damn, Vegas,” he growled between gritted teeth. Then he kissed her hard, his tongue plunging past her parted lips. He wanted to devour her, to satiate the unyielding need his body had for hers.

  His kisses were unrelenting, and she drank in all that he offered.

  “How can we…?” she said between breaths. “I didn’t bring…”

  “Back pocket,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She curved her hand around his ass, her fingers plunging into each pocket until one came away holding a small square wrapper.

  “Was this your plan all along, Mr. Callahan? To have your way with me in the wilderness?”

  He grinned. “Not exactly. But I should probably tell you that I was a Boy Scout once upon a time. If there’s one thing I remembered, it’s to—”

  “Always be prepared,” she finished. “I do love a man who plans ahead. Not that I love—I mean, I just meant—”

  “It’s okay,” he said gently and smiled.

  She pinched the packet between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, but Sam shook his head.

  “Also, I haven’t quite made all the necessary preparations,” he said. “I mean, you’re still wearing pants.”

  She barked out a laugh, then threw a hand over her mouth.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low. He slipped the button of her jeans through the hole and unzipped the fly. “I’m ninety-eight percent sure no one can hear us.”

  “What about the other two percent?”

  He shrugged, yanked her pants below her ass, and rested his palm between her legs. “Either take your chances or try to come quietly.” He sank a finger between her folds, and she pressed her lips together, suppressing a whimper.

  She dropped the condom onto the table and retaliated by grabbing his erection, sliding her fist over his wet tip and down to the base. He buried his face in her neck to stifle his groan.

  “Challenge accepted,” she breathed into his ear. “But are you up to the task as well?”

  He knew if anyone came looking for them—if a guest wandered back to the bonfire having forgotten a jacket or having lost a room key—he’d be toast. Bare assed with his dick out was so far out of the realm of professional behavior. Yet logic failed him at every turn. He was willing to risk his reputation and possibly his livelihood for her. And it wasn’t simply because he couldn’t keep his jeans zipped when he was around her. It was everything from her teasing and dares to climbing into a boxing ring when he didn’t have the words to say what he was feeling.

  Kind of like right now.

  “Fine,” he said smiling. “Challenge accepted. Condom. Please.”

  She skimmed her teeth over her bottom lip and then let go of him. He let out a shaky breath as she pushed herself up to sitting and tore open the packet. Then she deftly slid the condom over his length, a shudder running through him as she did.

  He tore off her shoes, tossing them to the ground. He did the same with her underwear and jeans. She yelped, covered her mouth again, and laughed.

  Sam raised a brow, and she swatted him on the shoulder.

  “You said come quietly. I wasn’t—you know.”

  “Not yet, Vegas.”

  He wrapped his hands around her thighs and yanked her to the table’s edge. He stood, the table the perfect height for him to nudge her opening, the ultimate tease.

  She braced her hands on the edge and whimpered softly, her head falling back.

  With a delicate thrust of his hips, he penetrated enough to dip into her warmth but exited just as quickly.

  Delaney sat up and hooked her legs around his waist, her eyes meeting his with a gaze full of a need so primal he guessed its only match was his own. She flashed him a wicked grin, her only warning before she wrapped her arms around his torso and he sank, root to tip, into her intoxicating heat.

  He kissed her hard to silence his groan, teeth clacking and tongues tangling. He’d meant to go slow, to restrain what had been building inside. But all bets were off now. The dam had burst, and he was diving headfirst into the flood.

  He rocked against her, filling her with everything he had. Their lips still joined, her muffled cries propelled him, guided him, undid him. Each thrust pushed her farther from the edge of the table until he had to climb over her to maintain their connection.

  Harder, faster, he plunged deep inside her, his urgency fed by the ticking clock. What would it be like to have a lifetime to get to know this woman, to give her all she deserved and more? He wouldn’t be able to answer those questions, so he gave her everything, right here, right now, to make up for the future he couldn’t offer her.

  Again and again he buried himself to the hilt, doing what he could to commit every touch, sound, and scent to memory. No matter what happened after tonight, there was no way he’d forget this, no way he could forget her. No way his brain would be so cruel as to take this night away from him.

  He’d let himself believe the lie for tonight.

  She cried out his name as her muscles contracted around him, triggering his own climax. Something savage tore from his chest, their challenge to stay silent a thing of the past, and it all came crashing down.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Literally.

  The sound of wood snapping registered a second too late—not that Sam could have done anything to save them—and the picnic table collapsed beneath them, Delaney slamming to the ground on her back and Sam braced above her, the impact rocketing a jolt of pain from his palms all the way up to his shoulders.

  Delaney shrieked, and he was sure she must have been injured—until she erupted in peals of laughter.

  “You’re not hurt?” he asked in a loud whisper, then realized muffling his voice at this point was futile. If no one heard the crash, no one was going to hear him speak. But if someone did hear the crash…

  He sprang to his feet, peeling off and tossing the condom in the trash, then tugged his jeans up from his ankles, a quick button and zip taking care of his biggest worry.

  He held a hand out for Delaney, who was still roaring with laughter, and pulled her to her feet. Together they scrambled to find her jeans and shoes. She was fully dressed except for one shoe when two figures burst into the clearing from the footpath and rounded the dying bonfire. One of them sprayed what Sam knew was a Super Soaker, and the other shone a handheld strobe light.

  Delaney
yelped as she was nailed in the side with a blast of water.

  “Hey!” Sam called out, but whoever was wielding the water gun had already hit him square in the chest with an icy burst. “It’s just me! Call off the damned wildlife prevention squad!”

  The strobe light fell dark, and the other figure lowered his toy-store weapon. After Sam’s eyes adjusted and he could make out Ben’s and Colt’s features, his suspicions were confirmed.

  Ben pointed at the collapsed table with his gun. “What the heck happened here? We got a bunch of city folk thinking the property is about to be attacked by mountain lions.”

  Sam raised a brow and nodded at the toy weapons in each of the men’s hands. “You sure it’s only the city folk afraid of an animal that hasn’t been seen in these parts in over a decade?”

  Ben pointed the Super Soaker at his brother once more. “You’re the one who told us we always had to be prepared for the unexpected. You even shared the website with us claiming bright lights and water would do the trick without harming the animal.”

  Colt brandished his powered-down flashlight. “He’s right, Sam. This was your suggestion. Ben’s the one who found everything in the storage shed.”

  Sam crossed his arms. He was the one who had bought the items, trying to cover any and all just-in-case scenarios. He just hadn’t realized his brother had been listening.

  “What are you two doing at the ranch tonight anyway? You both have the night off.”

  “Festival’s tomorrow,” Colt said.

  “Figured you could use a hand getting everyone to town after breakfast,” Ben added.

  It wasn’t like they were booked solid, but with only his truck, it would take Sam a few trips to get everyone to town who didn’t want to walk. But with Ben’s truck and Colt’s hybrid SUV, they’d be able to cut that time in half.

  Sam scratched the back of his neck. “This is pretty unexpected. I don’t know what to say.”

  Ben shrugged. “It was Colt’s idea. But since I didn’t have any other plans…”

  Sam chuckled. “He finally get shot down?”

  “Hard,” Colt said. “By Pearl’s granddaughter. The doctor. It was painful to watch.”