Thunderbolt over Texas

by Barbara Dunlop

“Be careful. They’re steep,” Cole warned from behind.

  Sydney put her hand on the painted rail as she started down the long staircase that led to a lawn and a huge vegetable garden.

  “How did it go?” Cole kept his voice low.

  “Your grandma’s definitely on board,” said Sydney. “But Katie thought I was trying to romance the brooch out from under you.”

  Cole moved up beside her as they hit the bottom. “How do you know that?”

  “She didn’t pull any punches. She flat-out accused me of pretending to fall for you in order to get the Thunderbolt.”

  Cole shook his head, placing a hand on the small of Sydney’s back and guiding her to the far side of the garden. “That Katie’s more than just a pretty face.”

  “I’ll say.” His warm hand felt good against her back. It felt sure and strong. This chivalrous streak might be annoying in another man, but somehow it suited Cole. It wasn’t put on and it wasn’t a put-down. He was genuine. Genuine was nice.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I swore up and down that I was being completely honest with you.”

  Cole grinned. “Good one. You’re more than just a pretty face, too.”

  She stopped at the edge of the garden, telling herself he was just being polite. “Thank you. I may have a brain, but I’m not a gardener. What do we do?”

  “I’m thinking something silly and romantic.”

  “What?”

  “I can guarantee you they’re watching us from the window.” He picked a plump tomato from a vine and tossed it meaningfully in the air, catching it with one hand and advancing toward her with an evil grin.

  She took a step back. “That doesn’t look very romantic, Cole.”

  “I’m teasing you. Guys in love do that all the time.”

  “You stay back.”

  He kept advancing. “It’s plump and ripe and very juicy.”

  She took another step backward and stumbled on a clump of grass. “Cole.”

  He lunged, and she shrieked, covering her eyes, expecting a face full of tomato juice. But he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her up tight against his back, holding the tomato a safe distance away.

  Guys in love. Cole did guys in love very, very well.

  He kissed her neck. The heat of his lips and the puff of his breath made her knees go weak. She grabbed at his arm to support herself.

  “Nice move,” he whispered, kissing her again.

  Oh, no. Her hormones surged to life. Her head dipped back to give him better access. The mountains blurred and the sound of cicadas magnified in the long grass.

  “Sydney,” he breathed, and she turned to meet his lips.

  The world instantly shrank to the two of them. She’d been thinking about this all day, missing this all day, every second she was in Wichita Falls, every second she’d been away from Cole.

  She couldn’t understand it, but nor could she deny it that his kisses seemed the center of the universe. The world pulsated out from the moisture of his lips, the touch of his hands. He lowered them slowly to the soft, fragrant grass, released the tomato and wrapped his arms fully around her.

  She closed her eyes. The afternoon sun heated her skin, soaked into her hair. Cole was a delicious weight on top of her, and his lips were working magic. She needed to stay here, just another second, just another minute.

  Somebody cleared their throat.

  Sydney’s eyes flew open and a pair of worn boots came into focus. She squinted up to where Kyle’s Stetson blocked the sun.

  “Much as I admire your dedication to the cause,” he drawled, “I think you two might be overacting.”

  Cole eased his weight off her.

  “Sorry,” said Sydney, adjusting her shirt. Where exactly had Cole’s hands roamed? What had Kyle seen?

  Cole rolled to his feet and held out a hand for Sydney. “Just trying to do our part,” he said to Kyle.

  Kyle fought a grin. “Next time get a room.”

  “What would be the point in that?” asked Cole.

  Kyle glanced at Sydney and snorted before turning away.

  Cole pulled her into a standing position and patted her on the back. “Way to go, partner.”

  She smoothed her hair. “No problem.” No problem at all. If that was Cole faking it, some lucky woman was going to live in paradise someday.

  Cole scooped his hat from the ground. “Potatoes and carrots.”

  “You think that was overkill?” she asked.

  “Nah. It was romantic.”

  “So you figure we’re getting it right.”

  He walked into the garden and crouched down. “Aside from you making Katie suspicious, I think it’s going according to plan.”

  Sydney turned to watch Kyle stride up the staircase. “You know, you three blow me away.”

  “What do you mean?” Cole dug into the black dirt.

  “Katie’s protecting you from me. Kyle’s protecting his wife from stress. And you’re compromising your principles to help them both.”

  “Something wrong in that?”

  “Something nice in that. I’m just trying to save my job.” She liked what that said about Cole. She wasn’t completely sure she liked what that said about her.

  Cole rose to his feet, dusting one hand off on the thigh of his jeans as he made his way out of the garden. “Your job is in jeopardy?”

  She nodded. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m on probation. There’s this guy…”

  Then she stopped herself and shook her head. She wasn’t letting thoughts of Bradley mar the day. “Truth is, I haven’t been delivering the way the museum needs. If the Thunderbolt hadn’t worked out, I’d have been out of a job.”

  “Hold these.” He filled her hands with long, crisp carrots. “So, do I get extra points for helping you and with Katie?”

  “Absolutely.” She tried to think of something nice she could do for Cole. “You want to come to New York and see the display?”

  He shrugged, heading into another section of the garden. “Maybe. If we’re still faking it.”

  Sydney watched Cole unearth a handful of potatoes and tried to imagine him in her Sixth Avenue apartment. He was too big for New York, too raw, too wild. He belonged on horseback in the rain, or half naked in his cabin kitchen.

  She shivered at that particular memory. This urge to kiss him was turning into an obsession. And the obsession was moving way past kissing.

  Cole was untamable and exciting and exotic. He was sexy as all get-out, and challenged her on every level. Aside from the Thunderbolt, aside from the charade, she wanted him in every way a woman could possibly want a man.

  “You’ll never get anyone to marry you without a decent house,” said Grandma, plunking a well-thumbed catalog down on the low table in front of him.

  Cole snapped to attention, pulling his arm from the back of the porch swing where he’d been toying with Sydney’s hair. “Huh?”

  “I’ve been after you for months to pick out plans. And with Sydney here, well, it seems like the perfect opportunity to get a female opinion.”

  “As opposed to yours and Katie’s?” Cole wasn’t picking out house plans. He had other things to spend his money on, and he had a perfectly good cabin down by the creek.

  “Great idea,” said Katie, pulling her patio chair closer. Her eyes shone with anticipation as she flipped open the book.

  “Cape Cod or Colonial?” asked Kyle, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders.

  Cole glared at his brother. “I do not need a new house.”

  “You’re joking, right?” said Katie.

  She shifted her attention to Sydney. “Tell him no self-respecting woman would live in that cabin.”

  Sydney tensed, and Cole automatically reached out to squeeze her hand. “You’re putting Sydney on the spot, Katie.”

  Grandma sidled up next to Sydney. “I’m sure she doesn’t mind. We just want to take advantage of your cosmopolitan taste, dear.”

  Sy
dney kept her mouth shut tight, and Cole shot Kyle a meaningful glare. Unfortunately his brother’s only response was a mocking grin.

  “I need a new hay barn,” said Cole. “An addition on the tack shed, and an upgrade to the combines. We all agreed in the spring.”

  “No. You agreed in the spring,” said Katie primly. “The rest of us thought you needed a new house.”

  Cole reached out and shut the book. He’d agreed to a marriage of convenience. He’d agreed to pretend it was real. But he wasn’t building any damn house just to keep Katie from being stressed.

  “The cabin’s fine,” he said, moderating his voice. “Even if I was to get married—” he turned to Sydney “—that cabin would be okay in the short term. Right?”

  She swallowed. “Uh—”

  Katie jerked the catalog out from under Cole’s hand. “Now you’re the one putting Sydney on the spot. If the cabin’s so fine, we’ll move into it. You take the house.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Why is it ridiculous when I say it?”

  “There are two of you. And you’re a woman.”

  “Now you’re sounding sexist.”

  Cole turned to his brother. “You’d actually let your wife live in the cabin.”

  “Nope,” said Kyle. “But it sounds like you’re willing to let yours.”

  Cole opened his mouth, but he couldn’t immediately come up with the right argument. Damn Kyle. This was not his opportunity to push the new house agenda.

  “And what about the children?” asked Katie. “There’s absolutely no room in the cabin for children.”

  All eyes swung to Sydney. “Maybe an addition?” she offered.

  Katie laughed. “Yeah, right. Cape Cod or Colonial?”

  Grandma patted her hand. “Don’t be shy, Sydney. We value your input.”

  Sydney hesitated, but she was being stared down by the entire family. “I’ve, uh, always liked a nice Cape Cod.”

  “Page thirty-nine,” said Grandma.

  “Well, you were a big help,” Cole said to Sydney as they walked down the ranch road in the moonlight. After her initial protest, she’d plunged into the planning session with gusto.

  “I tried to keep quiet.”

  “And that didn’t seem to work out for you?”

  “I’m supposed to be falling for you, so I tried to make myself sound like actual wife material. I answered all your Grandma’s questions. We swapped recipes—”

  “You know recipes?”

  Sydney shot him a look. “I made them up. Point is, if I’d balked at planning my future house, it would have looked suspicious.”

  “Now they’re going to want me to build the damn thing.”

  “So what? The cabin is falling apart.”

  “What am I going to do with a two-story, octagonal great room?”

  “I didn’t vote for the octagonal great room. That was Katie.”

  “Well you voted for the dormer windows.”

  “They’re pretty.”

  “And a turret?”

  “Adds detail.”

  “And what am I going to do with a hot tub?”

  Sydney was silent for a moment. “Uh, bathe?”

  “Very funny. I don’t need jets and bubblers rumbling under my butt to get clean.”

  “Ever tried one?”

  “No.”

  She grinned and bumped her shoulder against his arm. “Don’t know what you’re missing, cowboy.”

  “Why? Have you?”

  “It just so happens I own a hot tub.”

  A visual bloomed in Cole’s brain—of Sydney, glistening skin and swirling water.

  “Cole?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

  “You ever stop to think there might be some deep-seated, psychological reason you shortchange yourself?”

  “No.” He didn’t shortchange himself, and he didn’t have deep-seated reasons for anything. He herded cows. He raised horses. He kept the ranch running. What you saw was what you got.

  “You’re living in a cabin where you wouldn’t let any other member of your family live.”

  That wasn’t true. He turned from the ranch road down his short driveway and the roar of the creek grew louder. “I’d let Kyle live there.”

  “And you’ve never been married.”

  “Lucky for you.” If he was married she wouldn’t be getting this opportunity with the Thunderbolt.

  “See, I have a hard time believing women aren’t interested in you. If you’d wanted—”

  “Plenty of women are interested in me.” He felt ego-bound to point that out. Well, maybe not plenty. But some. Enough. He wasn’t exactly a monk out here.

  “Then why haven’t you settled down?”

  “It’s not by choice.”

  “Bet it is.”

  “Not my choice.”

  “The women said no?”

  He refused to answer, wondering how he and Sydney always ended up having such personal conversations. He was a private man. He liked it that way.

  “Come on, Cole,” Sydney prompted.

  “Why aren’t you married?” He tried to turn the tables.

  Her answer surprised him. “Nobody ever proposed.”

  “Did you even want them to?” he asked.

  “You mean, have I ever been in love?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t know?” That surprised Cole.

  She shook her head. “What about you?”

  “I guess not.”

  She grinned and bumped him again. “But you’re not sure?”

  He cocked his head, considering her. “You know, it’s hard, isn’t it? To know for sure.”

  “Is that why you never asked anyone.”

  “Nah. Never got that far. Truth is, they all left me once they got to know me.”

  She tipped her head back and gave him a hint of that sexy laugh. “No way. You left them.”

  He had to squelch an urge to wrap his arm around her. She was just the right height, just the right size, just the right shape for his arms.

  Instead he shook his head. “I’m a bit of a selfish jerk deep down inside.”

  “No. You’re the opposite. Just like I said. You’re the one sacrificing to take care of everyone around you.”

  They came to the porch and he preceded her up the three steps. “Do you happen to have a degree in psychology?”

  “I have a degree in art history.”

  “Good.” He pushed open the door and stood to one side. “You can decorate the turret and leave my brain alone.”

  She grinned as she walked past him. “Your brain is beginning to fascinate me.”

  “I don’t want a new house, because I don’t need a new house. This is a working ranch, not a Dallas subdivision. Next thing they’ll be putting in a pool.”

  “I’ve hit on something here, haven’t I?”

  “You haven’t hit on anything.” His voice came out unexpectedly sharp as he flipped the kitchen lamp.

  Her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry.”

  Cole swore under his breath. He shook his head and moved toward her. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He was falling back on defense mechanisms now.

  “It’s none of my business,” she said.

  “Of course it’s not. But we’re playing this silly game.” He took a breath. “Ah, Sydney. We should have known it would get complicated.”

  She gave him a nod and a hesitant smile, and he found himself easing closer. He inhaled deeply, filling his senses.

  Her lips were burgundy in the lamplight. Her emerald eyes were fringed by thick lashes. Her skin was ivory-smooth, flushed from the walk. And the memory of it was indelibly pressed into the nerves of his fingertips.

  Unable to stop himself, he smoothed a lock of hair from her forehead.

  “Complicated,” he whispered one more time.

  Her lips parted, softly, invitingly. He should have known the second he
got her alone, he’d give in to the cravings. He cupped her cheeks, pulling her closer. His lips closed over hers and relief roared through his body.

  He’d been watching her all day, wanting her all day. She was under his skin and into his brain in a way that he couldn’t control.

  He kissed her harder, stepping toward her, pressing her back against the door. A bronc had blasted off inside him, and there was nothing he could do but hang on for the ride.

  He tipped his head to find a better angle, and she came alive under his hands, all movement and sound and scent.

  This was good. This was right. This was more than he’d ever found in any other woman. He stopped thinking about the Thunderbolt. He stopped thinking about Katie. He stopped thinking about plots and plans and deceptions.

  There was only Sydney, her taste and her touch.

  “Cole,” she breathed, her fingertips tightening on his shoulders.

  “I know.” He kissed her eyelids.

  “This is complicated.”

  “This is inevitable.”

  She paused for a second. “Maybe.”

  “Absolutely.” He slipped his hand under her shirt, skimming across the small of her back. Her skin was sinfully warm, sinfully soft. She was a treasure he hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve.

  “We can stop,” he whispered reassuringly, kissing his way along the crook of her neck. “You say when.”

  “Not yet,” she whispered back.

  “Thank God,” he sighed.

  Her hand inched its way slowly up between them and, one by one, she popped the buttons on his shirt. When the last one gave way, she burrowed inside the fabric.

  He kissed the top of her head and rocked her in his arms. He wanted to carry her to his bed, press himself against her—kiss her, talk to her, make love with her, simply breathe the same air. Whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

  She kissed his chest, her hot tongue flicking out to sear his skin.

  He struggled for air as passion commandeered his senses. “We’re pushing it,” he warned.

  She kissed him again. “Let’s push it further.”

  He pulled back and gazed down at her. Her lips were swollen, her eyes were slumberous and her hair was tousled out like a halo.

  “You want to make love?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure?”

  She smoothed her palms up the front of his chest. “You’re right. It’s inevitable.”