Like A Cowboy (Wild At Heart Cowboys Book 1)

by Charlene Bright

  Noah thought about that, and he realized that it was the shadows beneath his father’s cheekbones, showing their angled prominence, that he first noticed. With a nod, he studied the image and the shape he’d painted, and then he started digging through colors, looking for the right ones to blend to give the effect of a sharp angle without making the shadow too dark. He tested several colors, and finally, he found a dark brown with a pale yellow that blended well so he could use one of the thinner brushes to create the effect he wanted.

  Zoe went back to her own work, and Noah desperately wanted to go see what she was working on. But she had adamantly refused to give a sneak peek. She told him that her own “muse” required complete secrecy until a project was finished, and only then would it be unveiled. His patience was running out, and yet, he had a feeling it would still be weeks before he was allowed to see it.

  That didn’t stop him from casting furtive glances her way. He told himself it was pure physical attraction that kept snagging his attention. After kissing her and having those dreams that were plaguing him, he couldn’t stop thinking about her lips or her body and the way it had molded to his for just a couple of minutes. She was soft and fit against him perfectly, but there was a firmness to her that said she was careful with her diet and kept herself fit.

  He let his eyes drop to her chest, wondering if her nipples were as rosy and full as her lips. His pants grew tight as his body reacted, and he forced his eyes back to his work, adjusting his position to ease some of the tension in his groin. This was ridiculous. It was like he was in some alternate reality in which he’d never seen anyone get hurt by falling in love. Noah had never spent so much time mooning over a woman, and he certainly hadn’t found himself talking to one of his horses about what it would be like to take someone for a ride out to the grasslands and the tiny pond at the edge of his property, set up a picnic, and have a very fulfilling dessert in which their bodies collided.

  He didn’t have a romantic bone in his body or an inclination in his head.

  And at the same time, he had considered the perks of being able to kiss Zoe whenever he liked without fear of rejection or concern of disaster. He was so frustrated he nearly slashed the brush across his father’s portrait, which would have ruined it and forced him to start over. This strange desire taking shape inside him was progressing a lot like the painting, and he didn’t like the base he’d built. He could see the emotions getting ready to fill in the image to make a full picture of something he recognized and didn’t want any part of.

  To make matters worse, all of this was happening as he stared at a picture of the man his mother had lost, the entire reason he wasn’t willing to risk falling in love. It wasn’t like his father had fallen ill, and he hadn’t chosen to leave. He’d simply driven into Cheyenne to meet someone who wanted an opinion on a horse he was purchasing and was willing to pay a hefty sum for an expert’s opinion. On the way home, late at night, there had been one of those unusual rainstorms that hit once every few years in the middle of summer, and the guy driving the opposite direction had drunk one too many. He lost control of the car, careened over the divider, and hit Noah’s father head-on.

  Arlene Thomas had never even gotten to say goodbye to her young husband, much less prepare herself for the loss, and she’d never fully recovered. Noah couldn’t imagine the pain. He hated not remembering his father, but at least it meant he didn’t have the same connection with him and didn’t suffer the same level of heartache that his mother did.

  Seeing his father’s face and recreating it for his mother should have reminded Noah how vital it was not to let his heart override his mind. Instead, he found himself thinking about a love so strong between two people that the loss of one could devastate the other for two and a half decades. How would it feel to care that much about someone? And to have that person care so much about you?

  He glanced over at Zoe again, who was deep in concentration with her eyes squinted and her nose barely six inches from her canvas. If she ever changed her mind about relationships, Noah thought she deserved someone who wouldn’t question the value of his love for her. She was worth the risk for someone like that, someone who would throw everything he had into a whirlwind romance. She deserved to be swept off her feet and to walk in the clouds with a man who could treat her like a queen and never hold back for fear that he’d get burned or crushed.

  Noah knew he wasn’t that man.

  “Still good over there?” she asked, breaking his train of thought.

  Noah glanced at the brush in his hand and realized he hadn’t even used it yet. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in response. Zoey was an incredible woman, and if he allowed himself, he could ruin his own life by falling for her. That was the picture taking shape inside him, a picture of a future together that was nothing more than an illustration in a romance novel. Real life didn’t work that way. There was too much proof of that in this world. He would have to find a way to erase it before it started to seem real to him.

  Forcing himself to focus on the painting, he started lightly filling in the shadows of his father’s cheeks, deciding that he wanted the light in the picture to come from a slightly different angle than it did in the photo. It changed his perspective, and he could vaguely make out where to darken more or not as much to change the direction. By the time he’d finished one cheek, he knew it would take a couple of passes with different shades of the same color to finish what he’d started, but he was impressed with how well he’d managed to change the angle and could really see where this was going.

  If only he could make a few quick brush strokes on his own soul to change his perspective—or to create a new angle on how he felt toward Zoe. Either would work, but whoever said art imitates life should have specified that the reverse held no merit.

  14

  Staring in the mirror for what amounted to at least the fifth time in the last ten minutes, Zoe still wasn’t sure she was ready. This was a bad idea, all the way around, and she should have said no. But she’d been intrigued by the invitation, and she also felt she had something to prove. Not to anyone else, but to herself.

  Noah had told her to wear comfortable jeans and either sneakers or boots with a long-sleeved shirt. She’d argued it was too hot, and he corrected her that it was too bright, and she needed to avoid sun poisoning. There was always water to cool off. He was the expert, so she’d chosen a brown Henley and her hiking boots, which had seen better days but were comfortable from the wear and tear.

  Zoe hadn’t expected him to call last night, and when he had, she’d worried that he was cancelling their session today. They’d been at it for two weeks, and she’d started to look forward to it. Not only was she getting some serious work done that was greatly fulfilling, but she was also watching a genius be born. Noah was capturing more than just the image of his father. He was creating a living, breathing work of art, complete with a personality and infinite depth. And he’d barely begun.

  To her surprise, he’d asked if they could meet a little earlier than usual, and she’d agreed. But her curious nature prompted her to ask why.

  “Have you ever been horseback riding?” he asked.

  “Not since I was about eight,” she admitted. “And then, it was just in a circle around a corral. Some guy led the horse, and my parents paid him five bucks.”

  “That doesn’t even count,” he’d laughed. “I want to do something to show my appreciation for your help, and I thought I might be able to take you on a ride. I’ve got this great mare in here that’s sweet and gentle, and she’s chomping at the bit to stretch her legs, literally.”

  “Oh.” She’d fallen silent, stunned and not sure what to say.

  “I figured we could go to the studio, do some damage on those paintings, and then you could follow me back to the ranch. I can even throw a sandwich together for you if you’re hungry. And there’s the bonus of playing around with Suede and Velvet. They like to follow when I’m out for a ride.”

  It was irresist
ible, and his teasing tone was friendly enough. She’d even come back with, “I have a better idea. Give me directions, and I’ll come out there. I’ll bring the canvases with me and all the supplies, and we’ll work in a different setting. I know it always helps me to change things up once in a while.”

  “I like that idea.” They’d agreed on noon, and when she’d finished class that evening, Zoe had packed everything up. It took three trips to get it all in her little SUV, but she’d been excited and hadn’t minded.

  Today, things were completely different. She was going against every fiber of her being that shouted at her what a mistake this was. Since the moment they’d kissed, it had been an uphill battle to keep from initiating the gesture again. At least in the studio, there was an educational or businesslike atmosphere that helped her maintain a modicum of self-control. But being alone with him in a private setting—and at his house, no less—would only make it easier to give in to her baser urges.

  And she had no idea how she was going to react to riding out to the middle of nowhere with him, where her cell probably wouldn’t even work. She tried to tell herself that Noah was a gentleman, and he wasn’t going to try anything. In fact, he wouldn’t even make a move that enticed her. But she knew her own mind and body, and she had much less faith in her own actions.

  If she backed out now, it would be rude, and she would look weak. Okay, Noah wouldn’t necessarily see that aspect, but she sure would. So, she leaned her hands on the counter and gave her reflection a stern look. “You’re an adult, Zoe. You are a grown woman, and if you can’t control yourself, you need therapy. Noah Thomas is just another man, not some god or some magician who’s cast a spell over you. Go over there, paint, ride a horse, and play with a couple of dogs. That’s all there is to it.”

  She walked away before the image looking back at her grew flustered and started asking “what if” questions. Determined not to back down, she grabbed her purse and her keys and left, taping the directions to her dashboard. She wanted to use GPS, but Noah assured her that the man—or woman—in the machine would lead her to a gas station three miles down the road and not be able to direct her back to town.

  He lived in a place that secluded.

  A shiver ran down her spine, but she drove toward the county road that would lead her south of the small town and, according to Noah, take her practically to his doorstep. It was a much shorter drive than she expected, and as she turned onto the long dirt driveway and approached the sprawling but humble ranch house, she didn’t know if she was ready for this. Not that she had much choice, she realized as she spotted him sitting in a chair on the porch, waiting for her.

  He got up and came to help her unload with a broad smile that was welcoming and charming. Zoe tried not to think too hard about it, and she also tried to ignore the way his muscles moved so gracefully and smoothly as he carried almost everything in one load, leaving her to carry the two easels, folded up and light.

  “Watch out for the dogs,” he called over his shoulder as he reached to open the door. She stepped aside just in time as two gorgeous bloodhounds, who looked every bit as soft as their names implied, nearly ran her over. The jumped circles around her, and Noah called, “Boys, come! You can say hi when you calm down.” Instantly, the two of them sat as still as possible, their bodies still wiggling with excitement.

  Zoe laughed. This was what she loved about dogs. They were enthusiastic, but when they were trained properly, they were obedient and loyal, almost to a fault. Characteristics most people could learn from, no doubt. Quickly so she didn’t have to make them wait too long, she took the two wooden steps up to the porch and continued through the door into a house that was tastefully furnished with masculine colors and features. It was warm and cozy, and she eyed the giant brown suede recliner, imagining Noah kicked back in it in nothing more than his jeans, sipping a beer after a hard day.

  The image left her mouth dry, and she tried to swallow the rampant desire that welled up in her. “I love this place,” she rasped, looking around and hoping that the strange quality of her voice came off as awe or respect rather than nerves or arousal.

  “Thanks. Boys!” The two dogs came in, and he shut the door, taking her burden and making a proper introduction. “Zoe, this is Velvet, and this is Suede.” They looked exactly alike, typical bloodhounds, except that Velvet had a ring of black fur just around the edge of his right ear, and Suede had a small white patch on his chest, just between his front legs. She knelt to greet them, and they sat, each giving her a paw to shake before ducking into her hands for pats on the head.

  She laughed out loud. “You two are such hams! And so gorgeous!” She rubbed their ears and cooed at them until her knees hurt and she finally stood up. Both dogs lay down at her feet, and she shook her head.

  “They aren’t big fans of most people, kind of like me. Except they hate my mother. They won’t even come out of the bedroom on the rare occasion she comes over, even if she brings them bones to chew.” He laughed. “They seem to like you just fine.”

  Zoe blushed. “Dogs know who their fans are, and I am your biggest fan,” she told the dogs. Looking back up at Noah, she took a deep breath and gave a short, nervous laugh. “Don’t laugh, but I’ve never actually been on a ranch owned by someone I knew.”

  “Why would I laugh? I’ve never been in an art studio before.” It was so strange how no one made her feel as anxious as he did, but then, no one could calm her and ease her nerves like he did, either. It confused her, and she didn’t know how to respond. Luckily, she didn’t have to as he continued, “We’ll take the grand tour. I’ll take you out to the stables, introduce you to Debbie Reynolds, and show you the corral and the tack room and all that. We’ll ride out so you can see the land, but there’s not a lot to see. It’s like most of the state, desert and dry.”

  But it sounded like fun, as much as she hated to admit it, so she asked, “Is it too hot to go now? We can come back to the paintings after.”

  He smiled broadly. “It’s too hot to work but not too hot to ride.” He gestured toward the door with his head. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Half an hour later, Zoe had helped saddle a huge Appaloosa mare named Debbie Reynolds and learned to swing from the left stirrup into the saddle. Considering she was enormously tall, she really was a sweet horse and after a couple of practice tries, Zoe didn’t have any trouble getting on her. And when it came to leaving the stables, she barely had to touch the reins, and Debbie did exactly what Zoe intended. “You are a master at training horses,” she told Noah.

  “It’s just a matter of listening,” he told her as they trotted out to the middle of nowhere, a few hundred feet from the house. “If you learn to listen to the animal, you can figure out how to answer. It’s the same thing you do with your students. You gauge them, figure out how each one learns, and then teach them the best you can.”

  It made sense, and she’d never really thought about it before. She didn’t respond, and they went from a trot to a canter as they drew further away from the house and stables. She was surprised how smooth the ride was at such a speed and how easy it was to stay with her. The fluid motion came naturally, and the wind rushing over her was hot but refreshing and filled her with energy and enthusiasm. She wanted to laugh out loud with the rush, and when Noah turned to ask, “You okay?”, she nodded.

  And he broke into a gallop.

  It was the most invigorating experience she could remember, speed and air and freedom blending into a perfect utopian experience. She didn’t know how long they rode or how far, and she didn’t care. When Noah eventually slowed and stopped, he turned to face her as Debbie sauntered up to his horse, Bullseye. Noah wore a broad smile, and Zoe imagined hers matched.

  “That was utterly inspiring,” she told him, breathless.

  “Glad you enjoyed it.” He turned to point his horse in another direction. “Look over here. That’s where we’re going to stop and water the horses so we can take an easy ride back.” She glanced
in the same direction to see a small pond in the midst of a small field of grass, like an oasis in the desert. She didn’t hesitate to tap her heels against Debbie’s flanks, urging her toward the water.

  15

  Noah stood back several feet behind Zoe as she stood at the edge of the pond, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes fixed on some distant point near the horizon. Her hair blew back from her face, and her profile showed infinite contentment as she just stood and let nature take over.

  The horses were a few feet off to the left, tethered to a small post he kept there just for this purpose, dipping their heads into the pond for a drink now and then. And Velvet and Suede leapt and played in the water just off to the right. Quietly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the scene, thinking it would make a really great image to paint someday, or even to blow up and frame so he could hang it somewhere. The only thing that would have been more beautiful would have been a sunset in the background.

  He was at a breaking point and had to admit to himself that he cared more for her than he wanted to, in a way he’d never wanted to care about anyone. It was a beautiful and miserable feeling because there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he wanted to do about it, and nothing he could do to change it. Zoe might have been attracted to him, but she was as dedicated to her solitude as he was. She wouldn’t break down and give him a chance.

  Even if she was willing to do so, Noah didn’t want to pursue it. He would just end up heartbroken in the end. She would lose interest, find someone better for her, decide she’d been wrong to try, or disappear in some other, more permanent way. But he couldn’t erase the feelings that had grown inside him. All he could do was hope to keep them from growing stronger. For now, he could satisfy himself with moments like this, knowing that they were friends, and that he could bring her joy in small ways.