Cowboy Fever

by Joanne Kennedy

  Every part.

  “Either you really like goats or you’re happy to see me.”

  She regretted the words the minute she said them. Now he’d get embarrassed and move, and the sweet, warm feeling that had blossomed between her legs and was slowly spreading through her whole body would go away.

  And that would be good, she told herself sternly. Step away from the cowboy.

  The cowboy closed his eyes, but he didn’t move.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He opened his eyes and looked down into hers. “How ’bout you?” His voice was low and he sounded a little breathless.

  “I’m… yeah.” She started to say something else, but suddenly his lips were on hers and danged if she could remember what she was going to say. She remembered the warm, liquid sensation of kissing Teague though—the sweet heat of his mouth, the taste of mint and the faint scent of sweat, sunshine, and sage that combined to make cowboy.

  When they pulled apart, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then hiked himself up on his hands to rise, but the movement pressed his hips harder into hers. She squirmed against him, and he moved himself against her again, deliberately this time, watching her face.

  Their afternoon in his bedroom came back to her with such startling clarity that she felt like she’d gone back in time. Teague was kissing her again, his mouth hot on hers, his hands in her hair, and she couldn’t help kissing him back, couldn’t help moving beneath him. Closing her eyes, she tucked her hands under his shirt and ran them over his bare chest while the kiss deepened and their bodies rocked in rhythm.

  Suddenly Teague stopped and pulled away. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, his eyes scanning her face.

  “What exactly did you promise your mother?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

  “I—I said I wouldn’t get involved with you.”

  “Oh.” He relaxed slightly. “That’s okay, then. This isn’t ‘involved.’ We’re just playing.”

  She started to get up but he was immovable, his elbows on either side of her arms, his face inches away. Warmth was still flowing through her, slow as thick, hot honey in her veins. She struggled, not very convincingly, and the full length of a rock-hard erection pressed against her in exactly the place she wanted it. The honey flowed a little faster and she closed her eyes and threw her head back in full, delicious surrender.

  He took full advantage of the opportunity, kissing her throat, rocking against her, bringing one hand up to caress her breast. She arched her back and pressed into his hand, gasping at his touch. She could feel herself peaking under his hand, her body begging for more.

  The hand moved from her breast to the hot aching spot between her legs and she couldn’t help pressing up against him to stop the need from overwhelming her. It felt so good she did it again, and again, and again… He was definitely winning the game this time. She felt like she was about to explode, like her body would shatter and fly off into orbit any minute.

  “Teague,” she gasped. “Teague. More.”

  His breathing was quick and harsh as he unsnapped her jeans. He watched her while he touched her, the heat of his fingers soothing the hot, needy heart of her. She tilted her face to the sun and closed her eyes while she pulsed against him, feeling the tension inside her rise and break so she cried out and clenched her thighs, gripping him as if she was urging on a fast horse while sweet, hot magic flooded her veins.

  When the feeling eased, she sat up again, then closed her eyes and tipped her face to the sun.

  “Damn,” she said. “You won. You definitely won the game that time.”

  She started to rise but he gripped her arms, meeting her eyes with an honesty and intimacy she’d never seen from him.

  “Is this really just a game to you?”

  Was it? Of course it was. It had to be.

  She was saved from answering by the goat, who chose that moment to gallop around the corner and slide to a stop, greeting them with a loud bleat.

  “Son of a bitch,” Teague muttered, rising on shaky legs and wincing as he made a quick adjustment to the fit of his jeans. “I’m going to kill that animal.”

  She stood and staggered a little, then caught her balance and set off after the prancing son of Satan. Darting toward the goat, she grabbed his collar.

  “I got him.”

  She hung onto the bleating animal while Teague picked up the leash where he’d dropped it on the grass and clipped it to the goat’s collar. Beelzy allowed himself to be led across the grass, but once he reached the driveway he splayed all four legs in the dirt and refused to budge. Grimacing, Teague wrapped his arms around the animal’s front and rear legs and lifted him to his chest. Jodi tried not to laugh as the goat let out a high, nasal protest.

  “Put him in the corral,” she said. “The pasture fence won’t hold him.”

  Teague glanced over at the electric fence his brother had strung days before. “No, and it won’t hold Vegas, either. If he gets shocked, he’s liable to spin around and slam into it again. If something hurts him, he can’t see what it is and he panics.”

  “Do you think he’ll be okay in the corral?”

  Teague scanned the metal panels lashed to wooden posts. “Probably. Those’ll give if he hits them. And if you show him the boundaries, he’ll remember where they are. He does really well, considering.” He took a deep breath. “Jodi…”

  “How much can he see?” She wasn’t going to let him say a word about what had happened. Not a word.

  “I’m not sure. He can see shadows out of his left eye, I think, but probably nothing out of his right. If something spooks him from the left, he’ll dodge right no matter what’s in the way—a fence, a wall, a human… he doesn’t know it’s there. You have to talk all the time to make sure he knows where you are.” He looked troubled. “I’m worried one of your kids could get hurt. Your students, I mean. Or whatever.”

  “Clients.” Jodi shrugged. “They’ll understand better than anyone that Vegas needs special care.”

  Gathering the lead rope in one hand, Jodi led Vegas down the ramp. The old horse placed each hoof carefully, testing his footing before committing himself. Teague guarded the gate while she led the horse into the corral, waving Beelzy back when he bolted for the opening.

  “I’ll miss Vegas, but Beelzy? Not so much,” Teague said. “It’s almost worth giving up Vegas to get rid of him.”

  “Thanks.” Jodi rolled her eyes. “Just what I’ve always wanted. A goat.”

  “Not just any goat. That’s the son of Satan, there.”

  “I would have known even if you hadn’t told me.”

  Jodi’s legs still felt weak and shaky while she led Vegas around the perimeter of the corral, letting him nose the panels. She kept her eyes carefully averted from Teague while Beelzy frolicked around them, playing keep-away when Jodi tried to pet him, then trotting up behind her, head lowered. She dodged sideways and his effort to butt her turned into another headlong rush into the side of the corral. Vegas shied at the clang of the goat’s horns against the metal.

  “It’s okay, buddy.” Jodi stopped. She’d circled the corral twice. She turned to Teague, making her tone casual and offhanded. “You think that’s enough?”

  He folded his arms on the top rail and gave her a slow smile. “No. It definitely wasn’t enough.”

  “I think it was too much.” She unclipped the lead from Vegas’s halter and stepped out of the corral to stand beside him, keeping a good foot of distance between them while they watched the horse settle in. The goat stood beside Vegas, still poised to run, and Jodi could swear he was smiling.

  “Look at that goat,” she said. “He’s dreaming up more devilment.”

  “Me too.” Teague moved behind her and held the rail on either side. His body aligned with hers and she could feel his arousal pressing
into her back. He dropped his voice to a low rasp and spoke into her ear, ruffling the delicate curls that had escaped her ponytail. “We didn’t finish our game.”

  “I—I can’t.” She checked her watch and straightened. “I have a client coming right now.”

  He released his grip and groaned. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “No, really. Russell and his dad’ll be here any minute.”

  He looked down and took a few deep, shaky breaths. When he looked up again, his gaze had cooled down from hot to warm.

  “Okay,” he said. “But you’re not putting Vegas to work that fast, are you?”

  Jodi shook her head. “Nope. Bill Caxton brought over Triple Threat for me to use.”

  “How’d you manage that? I must have tried a dozen times to get Bill to part with that horse.”

  “Feminine wiles. And the fact that Triple Threat has arthritis now didn’t hurt.” She waved a hand in invitation. “Come on. Let’s go in the barn and wash up.”

  She led him into the barn and cranked on a faucet that arched over a battered tin laundry tub. Washing his hands, Teague shook his head.

  “So you’ve got a blind horse, a lame horse, and a pain-in-the-ass goat. This isn’t a clinic; it’s a home for wayward critters.”

  Jodi shrugged. “They’ll help the kids. It’ll actually be good for them to see that animals can overcome disabilities too.”

  Teague nodded and shook most of the water off his hands, then dried them on his jeans. “You mind if I stay and watch?”

  “No, that’s fine. Maybe you could even help.” Working side by side with Teague would be great. Maybe they really could be friends. She just had to be careful he didn’t fall on top of her again, that’s all. She’d be fine as long as she didn’t touch him.

  She glanced over to where he was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his long, lean legs crossed at the ankles. He hadn’t shaved, so stubble softened the angle of his jaw. His eyes were thoughtful, giving her an appraising look with a hint of a challenge in it.

  Okay, maybe she shouldn’t look at him either.

  But she needed help, right? And she had a feeling Teague would be good with the kids.

  “That would be great. Troy’s over at Skelton’s, working on some special project. Top secret, as usual.” She rolled her eyes. “So I could use your help.”

  Teague hesitated. “I’m not really good with kids.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Jodi nodded sharply, her mind made up. “Go get Triple Threat, would you? Only we’re calling him TT. I don’t think parents will be too enthusiastic about their kids getting on a horse named something so—well—threatening.”

  He hesitated, looking faintly uncertain. The look reminded her of his teenaged self and she couldn’t help smiling.

  “All you have to do is lead the horse,” she said. “And trust me, the kids are a lot easier to deal with than the goat.”

  Chapter 20

  Teague grabbed a halter from a hook in the barn and headed for the pasture, still catching his breath. He didn’t know how Jodi could recover so quickly from what had happened between them. Every time he touched her, he spun off into some alternate universe and had trouble returning to earth, but Jodi seemed to take their lovemaking right in stride. Didn’t it mean anything to her? The old Jodi would have made the afternoon’s activities into a long-running soap opera, but her new, citified self seemed to think nothing of it, standing up, brushing herself off, and getting right back to business.

  Triple Threat was waiting at the fence, his ears pricked forward. The horse was gorgeous—a palomino with lots of flashy chrome—but he didn’t hold his head quite as high as he used to, and Teague thought he looked tired and a little sad. Back in the day, The Threat, as Bill called him, had been one big ball of try. It was sad when animals got old.

  He led the horse back to the barn and tossed a blanket and saddle on his back. Giving the cinch a firm final tug, he led him out into the sunlight. “Come on, old man,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  The Threat followed him obediently enough, and Teague was glad to see no trace of a limp. The lameness must not be too bad. Arthritis could render a horse too lame for hard work like roping, with all its quick starts and stops, but leave him perfectly fine for casual riding.

  “There’s your horse, Russell.” Jodi was standing on top of the ramp behind a wheelchair that held a little boy who looked about eight, or maybe ten. He wore thick, heavy-framed glasses and an English-style riding helmet. A thick woven cotton belt was draped loosely around his waist. “His name is TT.”

  “Hi, TT,” the boy said. His voice was surprisingly deep, and Teague suddenly realized the kid was a lot older than eight. He was thirteen, maybe fourteen, but his body was so wasted by some disease that he looked like a child.

  “Russell’s dad will get him in the saddle, so you just have to lead,” Jodi said. “Russell, this is Teague. He’s going to help us today.”

  “Hello, Teague.” The boy rocked slightly as he lifted his right arm toward Teague. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  Nervously, Teague led the horse over, threading him between the ramp and a set of freestanding stairs, and gave the boy’s hand a hearty shake. The boy winced and Teague softened his grip, worried he’d hurt him, but the grin on the kid’s face said otherwise. Teague breathed a quiet sigh of relief. If Russell was anything like Troy, he was probably tired of being treated like spun glass. Still, the kid looked genuinely fragile. He’d better be careful.

  “And this is Russell’s dad Ben.” Jodi nodded toward a man who was standing on the steps. Teague led Triple Threat into position, glancing nervously at Ben. If Russell looked fragile, this guy looked indestructible. He was huge—a gigantic hulk of a man, with tattoos etched on biceps that bulged from a greasy-looking black T-shirt decorated with skulls. He looked like a biker—a three-hundred-pound biker. Much of that weight appeared to be muscle, but his belly had escaped the rigors of the gym and hung over his belt, the shirt gaping upward to reveal a stretch of hairy pale flesh.

  “Nice to meet you,” Teague said, though he wasn’t sure.

  The biker dude grunted, then turned to his son. “Ready?” he said gruffly.

  Russell nodded, but Teague saw a spark of fear in his eyes.

  “You ever ride before?” Teague glanced over at Jodi, wondering if he’d stepped over the line. She gave him a faint smile and a nod.

  “Oh, yeah.” Russell faked a casual air that clashed with the treble note of tension in his voice. “I rode with Billy the Kid and the Wild Bunch back in the day.” He cocked his head to one side and peered up at Triple Threat. “Think this nag’s got any spunk?”

  Teague laughed. “No, he’s a pussycat. It’ll be like riding your granny’s striped tabby.”

  “You never met my granny, did you? Or her tabby.” The boy grinned as his father laughed. Teague flushed as he thought of the kind of woman who might have given birth to Ben, Son of Meatloaf.

  “Okay, Teague. Could you push TT back a little bit?” She watched him back the horse, nodding when they’d reached the position she wanted.

  “Now hang onto him and don’t let him move,” Jodi said. She turned to Ben. “Don’t worry, TT’s steady, and Teague knows what he’s doing.”

  “Yeah, you’re a real cowboy, right?” Russell asked.

  Teague nodded.

  “Do you rodeo?”

  “Not as much as I used to. But I raise bucking horses,” Teague said. “And bulls.”

  “I met Ty Murray once,” Russell said. “It was my Make-a-Wish. He was cool.”

  “I bet.”

  Ben bent to help his son out of the chair. Chattering had momentarily let the kid forget his fear, but now his face paled as he rose onto his spindly, unsteady legs.

  “Ready?” Ben looked Russell in the face and the two shared a nod an
d a smile, Russell’s tentative, his father’s reassuring. Teague felt a sudden spasm of… something. Envy? That’s what it felt like, but it couldn’t be. He had Troy, after all. He knew what it was like to be responsible for someone. So why would he envy this guy?

  Russell sucked in a frightened breath as Ben helped him onto the horse. TT stood patiently, enduring the complicated procedure of getting Russell mounted just as he’d held his ground in the rodeo arena, keeping the lariat taut while his rider trussed a bawling calf. Teague was concentrating on the horse, watching for any sign of movement, so he didn’t look up at Russell until Jodi spoke again.

  “Good job, Russ,” she said. “You’re riding.”

  “No, I’m just sitting here,” Russell said, but the grin on the kid’s face said sitting there was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. He looked elated, victorious, and Teague felt something prick at the back of his eyes. Looking away from Jodi, he rubbed them, then quickly turned his attention back to the horse.

  “Ready to get moving?”

  Russell nodded. His father stood beside him, one meaty hand on the small of the kid’s narrow back, his eyes fixed on his son’s face.

  “Okay, to make the horse go, you click like this.” Jodi clucked her tongue and Russell followed suit. Teague hadn’t thought the kid’s grin could get any wider, but when the horse stepped out, Russell’s face looked like it might split in two.

  TT paced slowly around the ring, his head bobbing with each step, his rider swaying with the motion. Jodi had moved to the off side of the horse. She gripped the front of the saddle with one hand and laid her arm on Russell’s leg, her forearm parallel to his thigh. Ben was in the same position, except that he continued to support Russell’s back.

  “Can’t he go faster?” Russell said breathlessly.

  Teague looked back at the kid’s hands, white-knuckled on the saddle horn. “Nope. He’s got knee trouble. This is good exercise for him, but he can’t go any faster. He’ll have to work his way up gradually.”