Prairie Devil: Cowboys of the Flint Hills

by Tessa Layne

  Confining. Total yawner.

  And by dessert, she could see her future spinning out before her in an endless sea of teas and charity events, two-point-five kids and a labradoodle. Or worse, a teacup Chihuahua. And eventually, even though it was only the first date, Lydia could tell she’d be the one asked to give up her life. Her passion, to stand by her man. And, she just… couldn’t. Her friends in New York might consider her provincial, but her mother was a successful businesswoman, and her three sisters smart and kicking ass in their own professions. Where did she fit in?

  She drank green tea, not Cosmos. She slept in flannel pajamas, not buck naked. Her idea of being scandalous was staying so long at MOMA that security had to escort her out ten minutes past closing. Or losing herself in the stacks at the public library and discovering some treatise on fifteenth-century alchemy. She wasn’t a clubber. She didn’t take pills washed down with a gin fizz. But she didn’t spend nights playing scrabble and reading Sylvia Plath, either. Too Gertrude Stein for Prairie, too plain Jane for New York.

  She stepped up to the makeshift bar. “Old Fashioned, please.” One thing was certain. Tonight, she was breaking the mold. She was going to have a cocktail. Maybe even two. Celebrate the fact she’d just cut off ten inches of her hair and kissed her dream job goodbye. She glanced back over her shoulder while she waited. Damn. Colton’s eyes bored straight into her, sending liquid fire right to her core. One thing hadn’t changed in ten years, his effect on her. One look from him and she went weak in the knees. But this time there was heat in his eyes. Appreciation. She stood a little taller in her boots. Let him look. Let him finally realize what had been in front of him but that he’d stupidly ignored. She brushed away a flash of anger. Water under the bridge. She was a different person now. Stronger.

  Colton? Not so much. He oozed dangerous. Bad-boy. Wild-child. Ten years, a half-a-foot, and forty more pounds of muscle had only amplified that. She’d heard through the grapevine that he rodeoed. And it showed in the way he moved. In the way his muscles bunched under his shirt. And yes, she was not ashamed to admit, in the way his ass filled out a pair of dark Wranglers. Something about the way a pair of worn jeans hugged rock-hard muscles set a heat in her belly in a way worsted wool and chinos never did.

  She accepted her cocktail and took a sip, keeping her eyes on Colton as he crossed the room to stand before her.

  “You cut your hair.” His voice sounded like too much smoke and whiskey. A shiver of attraction raced down her spine. A voice like that would rough up her sensitive parts in the most delightful way.

  “You cleaned up,” she answered tartly. Better to keep Colton Kincaid at arm’s length. Or at least try.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You look good, Lyds.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she whispered, heat from the Old Fashioned and not his gaze, warming her belly. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself.

  His mouth curved temptingly up. “Why not? Too many memories?”

  Oh, hell. She was going to need another cocktail. Or three. Memories of taking his keys, of watching in despair as he disappeared behind the barn to get stoned with one of his buddies. And worst, of kissing him goodbye. Of pouring all of her idealistic seventeen-year-old emotions into a kiss he’d ultimately rejected. She gulped down the rest of her drink and licked the remainder off her lower lip. She registered his sharp intake of breath. Let him look. Let him think about everything he’d tossed away the night he’d left Prairie. “Yeah,” she muttered when she found her voice. “I guess you could say that.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “I think I need another cocktail if we’re going to talk.”

  His eyes shot skyward.

  “I’m not a goody-two-shoes.”

  “Nobody ever called you that.”

  They didn’t have to. She knew what his friends had thought of her, how they’d referred to her as Libby-Lyds, short for Librarian Lydia. She gave him a bright smile. “I’m glad you’re back, Colt. I know how much it means to Travis. Mama, too,” she added after a pause. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.” She turned to escape to the kitchen, too flustered to think straight.

  “Wait, Lydia.” He caught her arm, eyes pleading. “Save me a dance?”

  Several of the men were already outside, lighting a big bonfire for those willing to brave the cold November air. They’d even set up a small sound system, running electricity from the barn. She lifted a shoulder, smiling coyly. “Maybe?”

  “Maybe?” he challenged, a knowing smile brightening his face. This was the Colton she remembered, had a hard time resisting. The young man full of swagger, doing what he wanted, when he wanted, damn the consequences. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist my charms?”

  She couldn’t help it. A laugh rose, and she gently socked his shoulder, not missing the solid mass underneath her fingers. “Hardly likely. I think you’re the one who needs to resist my charms,” she flirted back.

  He captured her hand, held it pressed against his shoulder. His voice dropped. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  His look said everything, made her mouth go dry. A spark of desire burst to life between her legs. She clenched her thighs against the warming tingle. No. Nononono. She would not give into these sensations. It didn’t matter that this might be her only opportunity to take a walk on the wild side. To break in her red lace thong, to see what love ’em and leave ’em felt like. Lord knew, she’d been on the receiving end of that equation more times than she cared to count. What did her roommate in New York always say? Go big or go home? There was no one bigger or badder in Prairie than Colton Kincaid. And if she wanted to shed her good-girl image once and for all, take advantage of the condoms she always carried in her purse but never used, banging him at his brother’s wedding reception would certainly be a good way to start.

  She cocked her chin, and stared right at him. “That so?” She held his gaze one, two, three beats, then reclaimed her hand. “I’ll see you ’round, Colton.” She turned and made her way to the buffet set up along the far wall. Do not look back, do not look back.

  She did.

  He still stared at her like he had x-ray vision. Her lady bits responded as if he did.

  CHAPTER 3

  Colton stood in the shadow of the bonfire, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a half-smoked Cuban in the other. Lydia Grace was a contradiction. The look she’d given him as she walked away had made him instantly hard. Made his balls ache for sweet relief. Contrary to the bad-boy reputation he cultivated in the rodeo world. It had been a long time since a pretty lady had warmed his bed. Too long, his dick yelled at him.

  But he wasn’t home for a quick lay. Hell, if he wanted that, he could hit any bar on a Tuesday night along Lincoln Avenue back home and find a willing companion. One thing was certain – Lydia Grace was not the kind of woman you scratched an itch with. Her goodness oozed out of her. Even when she tried to put on bad-girl airs. Lydia Grace would never be anything but good. Even if her sexy curves drove him wild, she was out of his league. And he’d received Dottie’s warning plain and clear – Lydia was off-limits. Not for the likes of him.

  He took a puff of the cigar, letting the sweet tobacco swirl in his mouth. Too bad. His instincts told him Lydia’s sensuality was largely untapped, and likely ran deep. He might be wrong about so much in his life, but he was rarely wrong about women.

  “Earth to Colt,” Parker Hansen, who’d been just a year ahead of him in school, scoffed. “You’re either thinking about a woman or your bank account.”

  “What if I asked you that same question?” That was a cagey answer, but if he admitted to Lydia’s brother-in-law he’d been imagining what was underneath that soft dress she wore, he doubted he’d still be standing.

  “Hell, I’m still a newlywed. I’m supposed to think about nothing but my wife all the time.”

  “That how it works?”

  Parker smiled the smile of a satisfied, content man. “Wouldn’t change it for the world.” />
  Parker had been a rabble-rouser. It was no surprise he’d ended up in a risky profession like fighting fires. Also not surprising was that he’d paired off with Cassidy, Lydia’s older sister. She and Parker had egged each other on all the time when they’d been young. Funny how even after ten years, some things never changed. Melancholy poked at him. Catching up with folks this afternoon had been fun. But it hurt, too. They’d moved on with their lives. Settled down. Some even with kids, now. And rightly or wrongly, he still saw them through seventeen-year-old eyes. He’d been surprised to learn that one of his old buddies was now in the state pen for distributing drugs to minors. Colton shuddered. In the throes of his misbehavior as a teenaged delinquent, he’d never thought of his actions as bad… And yet, if Travis hadn’t given him an ultimatum and kicked him out, would he have ended up the same way? He sipped on his whiskey, pondering.

  “You ever think you’ll settle down?” Parker asked.

  Colton kicked the dirt. “Prob’ly not. Rodeo life is no life for a wife and family. And I’m not quitting until I win World Champion.”

  “What happens when you do?”

  Colt gave Parker a sardonic smile. “Guess I’ll be in the market for a wife, then.”

  “But in the meantime, you’ll leave a string of broken hearts across the west.” Cassidy wrapped her arms around Parker’s waist, perching her chin on his shoulder. “Am I right?”

  Colton quirked a smile and toasted the couple. “I don’t kiss and tell.” The words had barely left his mouth when Lydia joined him.

  Her laugh cut through the night air like music. “That’s new.”

  “What’s new?” Cassidy turned to look at her sister.

  “Colton. Kissing and telling. I think at one point he had a girlfriend in six towns.”

  At least the darkness hid the flames that shot up his neck. “Aww, you can’t hold that against me. I’ve learned a few things since then.”

  “Like how not to get caught?” she teased.

  But he didn’t want teasing. Not now. And he didn’t want her thinking ill of him. “Like maybe I’m secretly a one-woman man.”

  She laughed, genuinely amused. “I’ll believe that when pigs fly over to mama’s food truck and line up for bacon.”

  Her joke cut the tension, made everyone laugh. “You always did have the best zingers,” he said after Parker and Cassidy took their leave.

  She grinned back at him, and his chest went funny. “Had to, to survive in our house.”

  “Dance with me?”

  “Lose the cigar.”

  Without taking his eyes off her, he tossed the cigar.

  “Give me your drink.”

  “It’s straight whiskey.”

  “And?” She held out her hand.

  He handed over the plastic cup and she downed the remains in one gulp. Damn if that wasn’t sexy as sin. He extended his hand, and she stepped into his embrace, easily following his lead as he moved them to the edge of where the other couples danced by firelight. It was the perfect night for a bonfire. Cool and crisp, mid-forties. Perfect for snuggling. For a moment, neither spoke, they swayed to the beat of Lady Antebellum in the firelight. Then they both filled the silence at once.

  “You first,” Colton said with a laugh.

  Lydia tilted her head back, studying him. “I heard you rodeo. And you’ve done well.”

  He shrugged. “I guess you can say that. I started off in saddle bronc, but the last two years, I’ve made a run for best All-Around Cowboy, and it’s hard to do that in a single event. So I expanded to bareback and bullriding.”

  “Why not do a timed event like steer wrestling or tie-down roping?”

  He grinned down at her. You could take a girl out of the country… “Honestly? Takes too much precision. Costs too much. In the rough stock events, it’s just me and the ride.”

  “Man against beast,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  “Exactly. And when I was eighteen and sleeping on the ground, or in the back of a truck, I knew if I just held on, I’d have a fighting chance to make enough money to get to the next town.”

  Her eyes went wide. Even in the dim light, he could see the effect his words had on her. “First few years after I left were hard.” Brutal. If it hadn’t been for Dottie securing a ranch-hand spot for him with a friend of a cousin who lived in Steamboat, he’d have ended up homeless.

  “I had no idea,” she murmured. “I always wondered.”

  Colton’s heart twisted painfully. He’d always regretted not staying in touch with Dottie, and by extension, her. But he’d been young and cocky and full of himself. And had a chip on his shoulder the size of a fourteener. “But enough about me. I want to hear about Libby-Lyds. What have you been up to?”

  She scowled at him. “More than finding cheap thrills in the next town.”

  Sassy. He deserved that. He’d been an ass to her. He’d take her barbs as long as she stayed in his arms and kept talking to him.

  “Because those touchy-feely metrosexuals you date are a better bet?” He dared her to disagree with him. “Let me guess. You’re one of those girls who just likes to be held all night long in your white flannel nightie.”

  She stiffened in his embrace. A-ha. He had her there. She could deny all she wanted, but he had her number.

  “Judge me all you like, but at the end of the day, who’s living and who’s playing it safe?” He shouldn’t goad her this way. But he’d scrapped and fended for himself, and so what if he enjoyed life along the way? He’d always been completely upfront with the women he’d bedded. No feelings, no commitment. Only pleasure.

  Her eyes snapped to his, lit with anger and something else. Something hotter. “And maybe you’ve misjudged me. Maybe I’m one of those girls who takes what she wants and wears a red lace thong.”

  Before he could respond. Before he could even think of a quippy comeback, she’d tugged on his neck, raised on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his.

  She’d kissed him once before. So long ago, she probably didn’t recall, but he did. He’d thought about that kiss off and on through the years, the only kiss, however brief, that had been delivered like he mattered.

  This kiss? Was way more. Hotter, angrier.

  She tasted of whiskey and sin wrapped up in soft curves and apple pie. With a low groan, he snaked an arm around her and pulled her flush against his body. Her sweetness molded against him with a heat that made his head spin. Any number of people would tan his hide for the way he was kissing her, but he didn’t care. Her tongue slid against his, and he received it willingly, drinking her in, letting the sensations pull him heavenward, out of his skin, out of his past, and into a future of possibility where he was worthy of someone as special as Lydia Grace.

  CHAPTER 4

  What was she doing, kissing Colton? At the moment, she didn’t care to answer that question. His comments burned her up, hit too close to home. She’d simply wanted to prove she’d shed the good-girl persona he and his friends had pigeon-holed her with. But he tasted too damned good, of sweet tobacco, whiskey, and so enticingly male that she couldn’t stop herself. Didn’t want to stop. His mouth on her was like fire. No downtown banker had ever kissed her like this, with total possession. Like they weren’t standing in a crowd at the edge of a bonfire. Where, if they were seen, there’d be plenty to gossip about at her mother’s food truck in the morning.

  He let out a possessive sound, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her tight, and took over the kiss. It was like a bomb went off in her brain, laying waste to all thought, leaving room only for feeling. Cascades of sensation settled in a warm rush at the apex of her thighs.

  Maybe it was the booze, or the fact that three days ago her career had been upended, and she had nothing left to lose. She’d already lost her job and her dignity. What was the worst that could happen if she let go? She’d spent her entire life worrying about what was next, and where had it landed her? Unemployed and back in Prairie. She was wearing a red lace
thong, dammit. She was going to live in this moment and let it carry here wherever it willed.

  Colton lifted his head, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pulses. “You sure you wanna tangle with me, sweetheart? I’m pretty sure your mama would tan my hide if she found us together.”

  She tilted up her chin defiantly. “I’m not planning on telling mama,” she muttered huskily, pulling him in for another kiss, because who in their right mind would want to stop kissing him? He’d unleashed a heat inside her that wouldn’t be quenched with anything but more of him. All of him.

  His hand drifted lower, cupping her hip, and she pressed against him, fully aware of his arousal. Colt lifted his head again. “You sure you’re not drunk?”

  “Only on your kisses,” she quipped. “And I want more.” Lordy, did she want more. His hands on her breasts, between her legs. His mouth on her. His reaction when he saw her with nothing but red lace. Grabbing his hand, she glanced around, then gave a tug, heading in the direction of the barn. Once they were out of the pull of the bonfire, they were encased in darkness. No one would notice them now. Not with the booze and the music.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered urgently.

  “What does it look like?” She reached the barn door and gave a push, relieved that it glided open with minimal sound.

  As soon as she stepped in, her nose filled with the scent of sweet clover and horse. It had been ages since she’d set foot in the Kincaid barn, but if she recalled correctly, the tack room was immediately to her left. With the bravado that only came from recklessness, she stepped left, crossing her fingers that she wouldn’t walk into anything in the dark. Luck was on her side, and as they moved deeper into the tack room, moonlight coming through the window on the far wall cast everything in blue and black shadow. She turned back to Colton and looped her hands around her neck. “Much better.”