Can't Let Her Go

by Sandy James

  She hadn’t planned to be so brazen in asking him to spend time outside the barn with her, but something about the way he was looking at her—glaring at her—made her uneasy. So far, she’d been convinced they could become friends. Perhaps even something more if she bided her time and slowly got him to relax that tight guard he kept on himself.

  He arched a tawny eyebrow. “A drink? You want to have a drink with me?”

  Chelsea nodded, although the unusual tone of his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck rise in warning. “Sure. We can talk horses and—”

  Ethan’s rude snort interrupted her.

  “What?” she asked, her gaze shifting from Ethan to Russ, who now seemed agitated.

  “Chelsea,” Russ said, laying a hand on her arm. “Ethan’s a bit…miffed.”

  “Miffed? At me?” Her stomach plunged to her feet.

  His eyes on his shoes, Russ put his hands in his back pockets. She’d seen naughty children who appeared less guilty. “Yeah…”

  “Russ told me everything.” Ethan unfolded himself to his full height, arms at his side with his hands fisted.

  “Everything? What are you…” As she closed her eyes, she felt as though someone had shoved a hand into her chest and squeezed her heart. “About my getting the horse to get closer to you.”

  “To get me to sing with you,” Ethan said through a clenched jaw. “That was fucking sneaky of you. I’d expect no less from a…star who always gets her way.”

  Regret was a tough bite to swallow and it nearly choked Chelsea. There were so many times when she could’ve been honest with him and told him why she’d started this little game—and that somewhere in playing that game the rules had begun to change.

  Taking a few steps toward him, she held her breath in hopes he wouldn’t storm away before she could explain. “Ethan…if we could go somewhere and have a drink, then we can talk.”

  “There’s only one thing we need to talk about, Ms. Harris.”

  Hating and yet deserving his snide tone, she recited the question he was prompting her to ask like some line in a play. “And what exactly is that, Mr. Walker?”

  “Your horse. You’ve got two choices.”

  The raw anger in his voice hurt, but she accepted it as her due. This man valued trust above all else, and although it had only been a venial sin, she’d lied to him. Oh, yes it was her due.

  But she also deserved a chance to explain herself. “Ethan, please…”

  “First, you get your horse the hell out of my barn.”

  “Or?”

  “Or you sell him to me. I’ll give you what you paid plus five hundred for your troubles.”

  “I don’t want—”

  Ethan wouldn’t let her finish. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to decide.”

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  Ethan was still angry when he greeted the rising sun with a cup of coffee. Still angry and…

  Hurt?

  No. Not over a woman he’d only known such a short time. Women. He could take ’em or leave ’em. And he’d never let one get to him. Ever.

  But this one had, and look what he got for it. Angry and…

  Hurt.

  Chelsea deserved his anger. He’d believed she’d been different than the other fakes in Nashville. Thinking she was something unusual. Something special.

  He’d been wrong.

  Why was he still so bitter? Hell, he was ready to punch something. Last night, he’d come home and needed to burn off some energy. Joe had left the four-horse trailer full of bags of pine chips that he was going to start using in stalls, so Ethan had hauled every stinking one of them into the barn, piling them in an empty stall. Sweaty, but still far too pissed to think about rest, he’d cleaned out the tack room, the office, and then sprayed down the floor mats that ran the entire length of the barn.

  After all that work and a hot shower, he’d finally been able to sleep. And damn if he didn’t have another erotic dream about that redhead who’d bewitched him.

  The sound of a car coming up the gravel drive drew his attention. His frown deepened when he saw it was Chelsea’s Land Rover. The woman had to be stupid to come and confront him. Everyone in the city knew he had a scorching temper and she was a fool if she thought he’d keep a rein on it for her.

  He tossed his coffee cup at the sink, not caring whether he cracked it or not, and stomped out to the barn. By the time he got there, she was already walking up the other side of the aisle, stopping to pat any of the horses that stuck their heads out of the stalls to greet her.

  “You’ve got some nerve, lady,” Ethan said when Chelsea reached Hamlet’s stall close to where he stood.

  “You told me I only had one day to decide,” she reminded him sweetly. “I came here to figure out what I want to do.”

  The woman had no idea how angry she’d made him or she wouldn’t be goading him. “I want you off my farm.”

  “Ethan…I…” After a weighty sigh, she sat on a tack trunk. “Can we talk? Please?”

  “I’d rather eat nails. Are you taking my offer to buy Hamlet?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’ve found a new barn for him?” Why did that thought cause a flicker of regret to lessen his anger?

  “No.”

  He put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Those were your choices.”

  “Ethan…”

  “I’m not changing my mind,” he insisted. “I want you off my property. If you need some help finding a new barn—”

  “Ethan, please. I’d like a chance to explain.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds. “We need to talk. Please.”

  “What exactly do you think we need to talk about? The fact you lied right to my face?” His shout was loud enough to make most of the horses poke their heads over their gates to see what was happening.

  “You’re right,” Chelsea said, getting to her feet. She moved closer, forcing him to take a step back. “I lied. I’m sorry.”

  A scoff slipped from him as he sternly crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Won’t you at least let me explain?”

  “You lied. What’s there to explain?”

  “How about why I lied.” When she tried to lay a hand on his arm, he jerked his shoulder so she couldn’t. Her hand fell to her side. “Can we sit and talk? I want to explain. I do. This wasn’t…I didn’t…” She let her head fall back as she closed her eyes. A moment or two passed before she leveled her gaze at him again. “I guess all I can do is apologize. If you won’t listen to me or even give me a chance to explain, then I’ll see what I can do to find a new home for Hamlet.”

  Although he cursed himself a fool, Ethan was affected by the defeated tone of her voice. “If you need more time…”

  With a shake of her head, she said, “I’ll have my assistant—”

  “You have an assistant?”

  “Well, yeah…The phone calls alone are practically a full-time job.”

  “An assistant. Figures. What’s her name?”

  “Her name’s Addie, and she’s amazing. As if you care. Look, I’ll find someplace today and see if we can get him transported. I don’t want to be a bother to you anymore.” Turning on her heel, she started to walk away.

  Fighting the urge to tell her to stop, he watched her slow steps and wondered if he was making a huge mistake letting her walk right out of his life. He was prepared to open his mouth and ask what her explanation was, but he kept quiet when she whirled back around, anger plainly written on all her features.

  “I can’t believe you’re just gonna let me leave! God, you’re a stubborn son of a bitch.” Her hands were fists at her sides, and color was high on her cheeks. “I told you a little white lie. That’s all. One stupid little lie about my original intent for buying Hamlet. So what? Is it worth throwing away…Gah!” She covered the distance between them in long, irate strides. She poked him in the chest. “Why can’t you just be reasonable?”

  “
It’s reasonable to let you lie to me?” he asked, utterly fascinated by her change in mood. “And since when did I get to be the bad guy here?”

  “Since you won’t even let me explain. Did you ever think I might’ve had a good reason for fibbing?” He didn’t even have time to answer when she answered for him. “No! People aren’t perfect, Ethan. I’m not perfect. I made a mistake. Okay? One stupid mistake.”

  Anger now easing, he couldn’t help but be fascinated with her. The woman was spitting mad, but she was the one who’d screwed up. “At least I’m not a liar.”

  “No, you’re not. But you are a coward.”

  “Coward? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I might be a liar, but I’m not a coward.” Throwing herself against him, she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

  In his mind, he tried to will himself to stay still, to keep from responding. Only he couldn’t. His lips softened as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

  Everything about holding her in his arms felt right. Her curvy body tight against his. The taste of her. The little whimpers from her throat. He wanted to consume her, to keep feasting on those full lips. Accustomed to being the aggressor, he had to adjust as she was the one who thrust her tongue into his mouth, sending fire racing through his body.

  Backpedaling with her in his arms, he was able to sit on a trunk, then he lifted her onto his lap. He stroked her back as she kissed him with more raw passion than he’d ever been kissed. Her hands moved to his chest as she kissed her way across his check. Her tongue tickled his ear before she whispered, “I’m no coward. I take what I want. And I want you.” Then she buried her face against his neck.

  A shudder raced through him as he smoothed his hands down her back to cover her backside.

  * * *

  Chelsea smiled against his neck, giving his beard-roughened skin one more lick before pushing against his chest and easing back. Now, she had his full attention. “So can we talk now?”

  “Later.” Ethan cupped her neck and pulled her into another heated kiss.

  She gave him what he wanted—what she wanted—trying to weave a haze of desire around him to keep him rooted to one spot long enough for her to explain.

  Her own desire soared, and when his tongue slid between her lips, she sighed in pleasure.

  Before things got too out of hand, she broke the connection again. Hands pressed to his chest—or was she caressing him?—she tried to put a little distance between their greedy bodies. “Before this goes any further, we really need to talk.”

  With a resigned sigh, Ethan nodded.

  Aware that being in his arms would muddle her thoughts, Chelsea got to her feet. “Why don’t we go inside? I’ll fix us some coffee, and we can sit down and talk this out.”

  “What exactly makes you think I want to listen?” he asked.

  There was no malice in his expression or his tone, so she smiled. “Because you kissed me back.” She stepped back, taking his hand in hers and tugging gently. “Please?”

  He stood, and without dropping her hand, he led the way from the barn to his back porch. After holding the door open, he followed her into his kitchen and then set himself down at the table.

  Taking that action as his tacit permission to brew some coffee, Chelsea went about finding what she needed. A filter. Coffee. There was next to nothing left in the still warm pot, so she poured it out, filled it with fresh water, and quickly got a new batch brewing. Fetching two clean cups from the cabinet, she set them next to the coffeemaker and then took a chair opposite Ethan.

  “My father died six months ago,” she said. Even speaking the words aloud still felt like a knife to her heart, but she needed to open up to get Ethan to understand why this album was important enough to her to have lied.

  “You told me, and I’m sorry for your loss. But what does his passing have to do with you lying to me?” His face was back to being a mask of indifference. Had he not kissed her so passionately, she might have believed he didn’t care at all.

  She knew he did. “He had colon cancer. Do you know there really aren’t a lot of good treatments for that type of cancer?” The memories were hard, but she owed him the truth. “I couldn’t do anything. I could only watch as he went through chemo and radiation and…” With a deep breath, she pushed forward. “I’ve got more money than I can ever spend, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do that wasn’t already being done. I’ve never felt so helpless in my whole life. Mama did everything she could for him. She handled his meds. Took care of his personal needs. I was all thumbs. All I’ve ever been able to do well is sing.” Her hand rose to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye. “So I’m going to help people with cancer by singing. Every penny this album earns is going to research better treatments for colon cancer. It’s more important to me than anything I’ve ever done before.”

  Feeling vulnerable and sad, she pushed herself out of the chair to get their coffee.

  * * *

  Never in his life had Ethan felt like such a selfish schmuck. All he’d thought about was himself and how much he didn’t want to record again. He couldn’t even think of what to say in the wake of what she was revealing to him.

  “I lied to you,” Chelsea continued with her back to him, “because I knew having you sing on this album would generate so many sales. But you turned me down flat without even hearing me out. I was desperate. I asked Russ what I could do that might convince you to record a song. He said you would if you liked me as a friend, and the best way to get to know you was to spend time with you.” She glanced out the window. “You spend all your time here. With horses. So I got a horse. I got Hamlet.”

  “Make mine black, please,” he said in a near whisper as she started to sprinkle a pink packet into one of the cups.

  “And here we are.” Picking up the cups, she returned to the table. She set one cup in front of him and then she held her own while she took a seat. “I just didn’t expect to end up liking you so much. That was a bit of a…” She let a smile bloom. “Let’s just say it was a surprise.”

  What does a person say when he’s made a jackass of himself? Yes, what she’d wanted of him was something he hated. But that didn’t mean he had to be so short-tempered with her. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you.”

  “No, Ethan. I’m the one who’s sorry. When I started all this, I never expected…Look, I’ll find a new place for Hamlet. Okay?”

  He finally found his voice. “You don’t have to move him. You can keep him here. You’ll need help taking care of him because you’re so busy.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly before sipping her coffee.

  Following suit, he had to admit she did a better job making coffee than he did.

  Chelsea set her cup down. “Now, we have one more thing to talk about.”

  Ethan quirked a brow.

  “We kissed.”

  The memory made him smile. “Yes, we did.”

  Her chin rose. “I don’t regret it.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Well, then…What are we gonna do about it?”

  Always one to play his cards close to his vest, Ethan shrugged. While he wanted to let her know exactly how much the kiss had affected him, he couldn’t help but be wary. He wanted to tell her he liked her too, that she was starting to matter to him, which was why that little lie had pissed him off so much and he’d overreacted. Yet he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was a star. A genuine star.

  Having her around was inviting himself into the light of scrutiny that he’d sooner avoid. He’d had his fill of that growing up, and his parents’ death still haunted him. Although the crash had been seen as a tragic accident, he knew better. That photographer’s flash had killed them.

  The last thing in the world Ethan wanted was to put himself in the path of reporters. And to watch Chelsea be hounded? Unbearable.

  Her smile slowly died. “You really are a coward. I thought after…” With a shake of
her head, she stood. “I’m going to the barn to take care of Hamlet.”

  Ethan caught Chelsea’s hand when she tried to walk past him. There was one thing he could do to make this up to her, and although he was still wary, he would give in this one time. “I’ll sing with you.”

  Her eyes stayed fixed ahead of her. “Thanks, but no.” She tried to pull away.

  He wouldn’t allow it. “Let me do this for you.”

  Her gaze caught his. “I don’t want your pity.”

  “Good, because you won’t get it.”

  “I should go.”

  Getting to his feet, Ethan refused to release her. While she stared at the hand that held hers so tightly, he took advantage and drew her into his embrace. He kissed her before she could protest and before he could talk himself out of it.

  She kissed him back, winding her arms around his neck and gently tugging on his hair. There was no hesitation when he slipped his tongue between her lips to coax a response. She let out a moan and pressed herself closer against him, molding her body to his.

  Kissing this woman was playing with fire, and he was ready to get burned.

  He picked her up and backpedaled until he could set her on the kitchen counter. As he kissed her, his hand rose to cover one of her full breasts. Her contented moan made him smile against his lips.

  She knew how to kiss, and her hand smoothed down his chest, resting against the fly of his pants. He was hard and eager, pushing his groin against her hand. All he wanted to do was carry her to his bedroom and ravish every inch of her. He had a feeling that if he made love to her he might never be able to let her go.

  That thought sobered him, and he eased back. “I’ve got chores,” he said in a voice husky with his desire.

  Her smile revealed that she knew exactly how much she’d affected him. Taking his hand, she led him toward the door. “C’mon. I’ll help you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Chelsea stopped when she saw a short man with a long gray ponytail standing at the gate to Hamlet’s stall, stroking the horse’s muzzle. “Um…hi.”