Tall, Dark and Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  She drew in a long breath, savoring the scent of him, and he tightened his grip, then released it.

  “You all right?”

  She pondered the question. She felt all right—more than all right—but was she? She’d just shared the ultimate intimacy with a man she’d sworn not to fall for—again. And she was about to go home with him, which had to be the worst idea ever for a woman who was trying to strike out on her own.

  “I don’t know.” She reached out a hand to push herself up to a sitting position and grazed his warm skin. Ignoring the faint electric flicker that sparked from the touch, she turned her back and reached for her panties. She could feel him watching her as she snugged them over her hips and shimmied into her T-shirt.

  “You just going to lie there?” she asked. She tried for a teasing tone, but her impatience sharpened her voice to an edge.

  “No.” He swung his legs off the bed and reached for the jeans she’d left crumpled at the bottom of the bed. “I’m going to get dressed, and then I’m going to take you home.”

  She yanked her pants on, tugging the waistband closed and jerking up the zipper. It was like closing the barn door after the horse had fled, but for now, it was the best she could do.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… because we can’t…” She flailed helplessly at the rumpled sheets. “We can’t keep doing this.”

  “We won’t, then. You’ll have your own room, and I’ll be gone all day. Hell, you don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want to. I’m just trying to give you a safe place to stay.”

  “But every time we get together, you—we…”

  “That was your choice, Lacey,” he said. “If you want to lay down a hands-off policy, I’ll abide by it.”

  “But…” She was suddenly appalled at herself. He was right. That last encounter had been entirely her idea. She’d forced him down on the bed, straddled him, held him down…

  “You could have told me no,” she said.

  He gave her an incredulous stare. “You do know I’m a man, right?”

  She blushed. “I’m just saying, I didn’t make you do it. And besides, you told me to take my clothes off.”

  “I know. You’ve got to get over this compunction to do everything a man tells you to do. Unless the man is me.” He grinned. “Hey, take your clothes off again.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “See? You do what you want.”

  She heard the hum of an engine and the crunching of gravel as a car cruised down the street outside the hotel, and she felt alarm spiraling in her chest, reminding her that whatever the merits of Chase’s ranch versus the motel, she definitely wasn’t safe where she was.

  “I told you, I need somebody to help out,” he said. “It might as well be you.”

  “You’ll show me what to do?”

  He grinned, and she flashed him what she hoped was a quelling look.

  “In the barn.”

  He grinned wider, and she pictured the two of them literally rolling in the hay. She could feel herself blushing. “Stop it.”

  “Okay. I’ll show you how to do ranch work. And I won’t touch you.” He narrowed his eyes. “But don’t expect me to control myself if you jump me again.”

  “I didn’t jump you!” She winced. “Well, I guess I did. Kind of. But I won’t do it again.”

  “Your choice,” he said, raising his palms in that “no hands” gesture.

  “All right. I’ll go with you. But just for tonight.”

  Lacey expected Chase to look happy, maybe triumphant. But his expression was serious, his mouth drawn into a thin line, his eyes on hers.

  His eyes on hers. She realized too late that she’d done it again—met his eyes and made that connection that drew them into a partnership. She’d worried about kissing him, but that was nothing compared to this.

  She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m going to earn my keep, though.” Actually, she was going to do more than that. She was going to work her ass off. Pam had asked her to help her brother, and this was one way she could do it without breaking her promise to herself. If she helped him with the ranch, really helped him, maybe the guilt would leave her alone. It wouldn’t be quite what Pam had in mind, but it was the best she could do. Maybe then they’d be even. And then…

  And then she had no idea what would happen. Somehow, she’d build herself a new life. One where she didn’t need to rely on anyone but herself. Maybe she’d let Chase visit. Yeah, that would work.

  He hoisted the suitcase in one hand and grabbed her backpack with the other. “You got all the baggage you need here?”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve got plenty,” she said. “I’ve got more than enough baggage for both of us.”

  ***

  The ranch house was hardly the kind of place that shouted home to Lacey. It stood alone on a vacant stretch of flat plain, a gray, weathered two-story house graced by one solitary tree that looked like it would fall down any minute. And when the tree fell, it would probably land on the low addition that had obviously been tacked on fairly recently. She wondered if Chase had built it himself. She wondered if he’d taken his shirt off when he did it.

  She smacked her inner slut and returned her attention to the house.

  “You’ll be sleeping in the addition,” Chase said. “I built it for a family room, because the rooms in the main house are so small. I felt kind of boxed in, you know? Couldn’t relax. So I put in a couple of guest bedrooms while I was at it. They’re on the far side, so you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

  She remembered his parents’ sprawling old southern house, with a wide screened-in porch where palm leaf fans spun slowly through the hot summer days. No wonder he felt boxed in here.

  “I’d have to cross the whole house to get to you,” he said, taking her silence for nerves.

  She looked up at the tree, wondering not if, but when it would fall. It was bound to happen.

  Maybe falling for Chase was as inevitable as the eventual falling of the tree. Maybe the pull between them was as strong as the gravity that was bowing the old branches toward the ground.

  Not if, but when.

  No. She could do better than that. She was strong. She felt strong tonight.

  Of course, she felt strong because she’d totally mastered Chase back in the motel room. That wasn’t quite the kind of strength she needed now. She didn’t need Xena the warrior princess. She needed Scarlett, canny and tough and tightly laced, keeping her feelings hidden with a flash of flirty eyes and a fiddle-dee-dee smile.

  She tossed that look at Chase as he pulled the truck to a stop, flinging open the door and stepping out so she didn’t have to spend another moment beside him in the close confinement of the truck cab. Just being in the pickup had reminded her of that day by the creek. Of course, that hadn’t been in this truck. It had been in the Dodge. But trucks plus Chase equaled trouble.

  “How many acres do you have?”

  “’Bout six hundred, plus five hundred leased.”

  More than he’d had back home. Something fluttered in her heart, and she wondered if it was a tiny shred of her guilt flying away.

  She hung back, not wanting to stand by the door while Chase fished for his keys. This was the moment the boy kissed you good night. She stood poised on her toes, ready to retreat if he turned and faced her, but he simply swung open the door. It wasn’t even locked.

  She attributed the sinking feeling in her chest to worry. “You always leave it open?”

  “Usually. Nobody comes out here,” he said.

  So they were alone.

  She followed him inside. The house was old-fashioned, with uneven plaster walls and a narrow staircase that led to the second floor rising to their right. Opposite the stairs was a wide doorway leading to what was apparently a living room or parlor, with a fireplace against one wall. A brown leather sofa stood in front of the hearth with its back to them, flan
ked by two matching chairs. The furniture was masculine and old-fashioned, with brass tacks along the edges, but it looked fairly new, almost unused.

  As she followed Chase past the staircase and took a left turn through a door beneath it, she saw why. Dropping down two steps, they entered what had to be the new family room. It was a long, open space with unfinished wooden beams spanning the ceiling. Another fireplace, built of rough rock, angled across one corner. A pool table stood to one side, balls racked and ready, and the furniture was upholstered in dark brown tweed fabric and scattered with needlepoint pillows sporting designs featuring deer, bears, and flying ducks. The room was carpeted in a warm brown Berber, and the walls were painted a deep chocolate brown that made her feel like she was safe inside a cave.

  A man-cave. Beyond the pool table was a foosball table, its armless players dangling above the fake green field, their torsos skewered by shiny metal poles.

  “Where’s the big-screen TV?” she asked.

  He nodded toward the fireplace, and she realized a three-foot screen was mounted on the wall above it, flanked by two sets of mounted antlers. The room was all man, but something about it felt strangely domesticated. Maybe it was the fact that all the textures and patterns meshed so well. The decorating had been put together by someone who cared.

  “Who did the decorating?”

  “Decorating?” He looked amused. “Nobody. I just bought some stuff and stuck it in here.”

  They passed through the room and into a narrow hallway, then into a small guest bedroom neatly appointed with a dresser and a bed heaped with plump, inviting pillows. Lacey looked over at Chase, then back at the pillows.

  “Well.”

  “I’ll let you get settled in.”

  She watched him leave with long strides, tossing a casual “good night” over his shoulder. She’d been prepared for a kiss or an attempted seduction, but Chase didn’t seem to have any problem turning and walking away. She should have felt relieved, but for some reason, the sparkle of the night had dissipated and she felt a little flat.

  She’d been expecting a fight, she told herself. She wasn’t disappointed—she was just a little let down. That was all.

  Just a little let down.

  Chapter 26

  “Sleep okay?”

  Chase drank in the sight of Lacey leaning against his kitchen counter, her glossy hair lit by the morning sun slanting through the window above the sink. His eyes drifted down the body he’d dreamed about all night. She wore a short white terry cloth bathrobe that covered everything but a swath of cleavage and her long, lean-muscled legs. As she watched her Eggo brown in the toaster oven, she folded her arms across her chest. She was probably trying to hide her assets, but the result was to press them together and amplify the cleavage.

  “Syrup?” He held up the bottle, half-full now that he’d slathered his own waffle with butter and doused it in syrup. He’d already been out on Captain, checking the herd, and he was starving.

  “Nope. Thanks.”

  She shifted her wary gaze to the window. Yesterday, she’d been all confidence and spunk. Today she looked lost, like a kid someone had dumped out of their car on the highway. It was obvious she’d only accepted his hospitality as a last resort, and she’d probably spent a restless night worrying about her next move.

  He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to make a move. That she could stay as long as she needed to. He hadn’t slept either, but it wasn’t because he’d regretted his invitation. It was because he couldn’t stop reliving that crazy hour they’d spent at the motel. He couldn’t erase the image of her naked body from his mind, couldn’t forget how she’d looked down at him through her lashes and mocked him, tempted him, trusted him.

  Trust was the best part of it. When Lacey gave herself, she didn’t hold back, and in the motel she’d shown more of her true personality than he’d ever seen. Hell, he doubted anyone had ever seen that side of Lacey.

  He hoped not. He wanted it to be his, only his.

  He’d tossed and turned the night away, wondering what would happen if he crossed the family room and tapped on her door. He was still thinking about it, but he needed to stop. Needed to focus.

  “Well, I’d better get started.” He brushed his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “Lots to do today.”

  “Hold on.” Lacey snatched the waffle out of the toaster and bit into it like a giant cookie, holding up a finger while she chewed and swallowed. “I’ll be right there. You mind if I, um, freshen up first?”

  He shrugged. “No problem. But the horses and cows don’t care what you look like.”

  She snorted a very unladylike snort. “I’m not prettying up. At this point, I think it’s clear I don’t care what I look like either.” She ran a hand through her tousled hair. Obviously, she didn’t realize that her just-out-of-bed look was far more of a turn-on for him than anything she could do with brushes and makeup.

  “I’ll wait.” He let his hip slant against the counter as he fished the next waffle out of the toaster. “Take your time.”

  When she emerged from the powder room off the kitchen, her face was pink and fresh from a splash of cold water and she’d finger combed her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. She was right—she wasn’t Little Miss Perfect anymore. She was something far more real. He’d always admired Lacey for her shiny hair and perfect clothes, but surprisingly, he liked this new incarnation even better. There was something earthy about her—something feminine but strong.

  Maybe ranch work would suit her better than she realized.

  ***

  “You can’t wear those shoes,” Chase said, pointing down at Lacey’s Asics running shoes.

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind if they get dirty.”

  “I bet you mind if a horse steps on your foot and breaks your toe.”

  She paled. “I’m going to be that close?”

  She realized she was being stupid the minute the words came out. Of course she was going to be close to the horses. She was working on a ranch.

  “I thought you said you liked horses.”

  “I do. I think they’re pretty. But I’ve never been close to one.”

  He gulped, clearly swallowing a curse. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a dream come true after all.

  “I’ll learn, Chase.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  His tone made her stiffen. She’d show him. She’d be fine. She’d probably be good with the horses. How hard could it be? She liked animals. And horses were just like big dogs. Really big dogs, with huge, heavy feet that could break your toe right through your running shoes.

  She closed her eyes and willed herself to stop thinking about their feet. She pictured Black Beauty. Seabiscuit. Misty of Chincoteague. Horses were wonderful. Magical. Like unicorns without the big pointy horn. She’d be fine.

  Chase led her into the tack room, where a pair of scuffed brown cowboy boots were sitting next to a bale of hay. “Put these on. They’re Pam’s. She won’t mind.”

  She sat down and toed off her shoes, taking the boots from him and sliding her feet inside. Wow. Pam was cute and all, but she didn’t have feet; she had flippers. Tugging at the back of the boot, she slid her foot home and wiggled it from side to side, then slid on the other boot and stood up. Her feet were swimming in them, but she didn’t complain as she scuffled down the aisle after him. Hopefully she wouldn’t trip.

  Trip and fall and land under a horse. And get her head crushed and die.

  She squared her shoulders and tried to channel Scarlett O’Hara, remembering how her role model had driven a frightened team of carriage horses through the burning streets of Atlanta. You could do anything if you had to. It just took courage and determination.

  They headed down a long, straw-strewn aisle. Ahead, horse’s heads protruded over the stall doors, watching their approach. The first one, a gray, lifted his head and let out a shrill whinny, and Lacey started. It was such a shrill noise, high and desperate. Like a battle cry, or a
scream.

  “We’re coming, bud,” Chase said in a soothing tone. “That’s Captain,” he told Lacey. “He’s always hungry. Likes a lot of attention.”

  “He does that when he’s hungry?”

  “Yup.” Chase stepped up to the horse, who was leaning against his stall door and blowing through his nose. “He’s like a two-year-old—a spoiled two-year-old.”

  Lacey looked up at Captain. He seemed all black nostrils and bulging eyes, with veins standing out beneath his black-flecked silver pelt. He nodded his head and rolled his eyes, showing the whites as he kicked the stall with one foot. The noise seemed to ricochet around the barn, echoing in her ears.

  She took a step back, but the horse stretched his neck and sniffed the air in front of her face with his nostrils distended. His breath seemed to roar like a dragon’s, and she couldn’t help taking another step back. Stumbling on the uneven floor, she fell against the stall door across the way, causing another smaller horse to snort and retreat into the stall with a shrill whinny.

  She hadn’t expected them to be so big. So wild. So freaking scary. She’d figured handling horses would be hard, with lots to learn and remember, but she hadn’t expected this immediate, instinctive gut reaction. Her heart was pounding so fast and hard, she could barely catch her breath, and she felt chilled and sweaty all at the same time.

  She was having a damn panic attack.

  She leaned against the rough wood with one hand on her chest and struggled to catch her breath. It rasped as if someone had fastened a steel corset around her ribs and was tightening the straps more every second. She bent double and put the other hand to her forehead, closing her eyes and willing herself to calm down, calm down, calm down. The fear spiraled and expanded in her chest, leaving room for nothing but panic and the faint fluttering pulse of her heart.

  Chase was looking at her with more confusion than concern. “You okay?”

  She closed her eyes tight for a second. Horses. Beautiful horses. Black Beauty, Seabiscuit, Misty. She recited the childhood icons like a mantra and sucked in a long breath, letting the oxygen flood her chest and surge up into her brain. It washed out the fear and pulled in courage. A stammering, stuttering, Cowardly Lion kind of courage, but courage nonetheless.