How to Kiss a Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  Not her father, who was downstairs watching television in blissful and possibly deliberate ignorance of what was going on in his daughter’s bedroom. Not her mother, who was long gone and probably would have approved of Brady anyway. Not Dooley, who was too busy eating Brady’s hat to care about anything.

  That thought made her chuckle.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “You,” she said, poking him in the chest. That started a tussle that ended with her top hanging from the bedpost and Brady’s shirt on the floor. He’d kicked off his boots too, and the two of them smiled at each other.

  “You’re way overdressed,” she said.

  He looked ruefully down at his Wranglers. “I’m not sure I can get the zipper down.”

  “I can help,” she said.

  “That’ll just make it worse.”

  He stood and liberated himself from the Wranglers, then stared at her in motionless silence, as if he’d been struck by lightning.

  “You truly are a goddess,” he said.

  Suze flushed. “And you’ve truly lost your mind.”

  “Yes, I have.” He stripped off his boxers too, and returned to lie beside her, his erection nudging her hip. “It’s a blissful state. And I’m going to try and help you lose yours.”

  Her green eyes grew serious as she stroked his hair back from his forehead, scanning his face as if searching for a way to believe him.

  “You’re so good at being happy,” she whispered. “Show me how.”

  Chapter 44

  Suze looked up at Brady, willing him to kiss her again, to touch her, to make love to her. She wanted him so badly. Not just in a sexual way, although her body was begging for him. She wanted something more. She wanted joy.

  He bent and brushed her lips with his, and she smiled under the assault as he deepened the kiss and ran his thumb over one nipple. Her heart lightened and lifted, and she surprised him by laughing.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” she said. “I just feel good. I feel great.”

  “You are great.”

  And that was the last thing Brady said before they lost themselves in each other, touching and caressing, stroking and exploring. She remembered, in a flash, why the aftermath of her night with Brady had been so painful. He was so totally focused on her, so dedicated to pleasing her. He looked into her eyes so deeply she felt like he saw the real her, like he knew her better than anyone else ever could. He acted like he loved her, and she had to remind herself, firmly, that it wasn’t real. Tomorrow would come, and Brady would be Brady again, careless and free. And she’d be hurt.

  “What’s wrong?” He was stroking her hair again, looking into her eyes.

  “You—I—never mind.” She ran her hand down his belly, over the taut ridges of his muscles, and closed it around his erection. Holding him firmly, she ran her thumb lightly over the top and felt a bead of moisture in response. “Playtime’s over, cowboy,” she said. “Let’s get to the serious stuff.”

  But it’s not serious. He’s never serious. She knew she needed to remind herself of that, but she suddenly wasn’t sure why, and in the next moment she couldn’t think what it was she had told herself to remember. All she could do was meet Brady’s gaze as he held himself above her, his arm muscles tense with the effort and his brown eyes staring deeply into her green ones.

  This was serious.

  That’s what his eyes were telling her. This wasn’t just sex; this meant something, to him as much as to her. She could feel it in the faint trembling of his arms, and she could see it in his eyes.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “No regrets in the morning?”

  “No regrets ever.”

  He slid inside her all at once. It had been so long since she’d made love that it should have hurt, but her body was so ready for him there was no shock, no quick stab of pain. Instead, she felt finally, fully whole, as if a missing part of her had been restored.

  He moved above her slowly. Most men—in her limited experience, anyway—threw their heads back and closed their eyes about now, and things got purely physical. But Brady kept his eyes open, looking into hers, and that made the act so intimate she almost shrank away.

  Almost.

  Because it felt so good, she couldn’t stop. She matched Brady’s pace, rocking with him, and he held her eyes with his own even when his thrusts grew fast and deep, and the headboard of the bed banged against the wall as if it was pounding out Morse code.

  This was wild, crazy sex, but it was more than that—because he never stopped looking at her. There was a connection that never broke—a connection that was far more intimate than the union of their bodies or even the intimacy of his gaze.

  It had always been there, she realized. Always, from the first day they’d met.

  But she’d think about that later. Right now, she couldn’t think about anything but how good he felt, how right, how right, how right…how…

  Stars exploded inside her, and wild seas raged. She felt as if she was lifting off the bed, lifting Brady with her on a wave so strong it would carry both of them away forever. She clung to him, praying he wouldn’t leave her, because even as the wave subsided and the tide of emotion started to ebb, she felt so good she was almost afraid.

  Afraid she wouldn’t ever be sane again. Afraid she’d stay in that transcendent state forever, hovering miles above the earth, having risen so high and felt so much that she could never go back to the everyday world again.

  She looked into Brady’s eyes, which were still fixed on hers, and she really didn’t mind one bit. As long as she could take him with her.

  * * *

  Brady stroked Suze’s hair. He’d decided that was just about his favorite thing to do, besides stroking her body. But even just touching her hair was somehow satisfying. It was endless in its loops and curls, like flames spiraling up from a fire, or waves curling and coiling inward. He picked up a thick lock of gold and kissed it just as she opened her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Sorry!” The word shocked him. He didn’t know what she was sorry about, but if she was sorry about anything, then she hadn’t understood anything about what had just happened. They’d made love in a cataclysmic, world-shattering, mind-bending way that he’d never experienced—and she was sorry?

  “I closed my eyes,” she said. “I broke the connection.”

  He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He watched the glow come back to her eyes, and knew he didn’t have to answer her with words. The connection was still there. It was unbreakable. They could see it whenever they looked in each other’s eyes.

  “Oh,” she said simply. “Okay. Good.”

  “Yeah,” he said, kissing her hair again. “Good.”

  She stretched and sighed. Even with the clumsy cast on one leg and the splint on her wrist, she moved with a grace he’d never seen in any other woman. She lay in a slanted ray of late afternoon sunshine and stared out the window at the barn roof and the blue sky.

  “Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” Her gaze slid toward him, and she narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to leave now?”

  He actually did need to leave. He was supposed to go out to a friend’s place on the reservation and teach some kids to ride. But he wasn’t about to walk out on Suze and let her think he didn’t care. Not this time. Not if the president of the United States was waiting on him.

  “I won’t leave unless you want me to.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair, over and over. “I guess you’ll have to go eventually.”

  “Eventually. You tell me when.”

  She turned her head and graced him with a smile that glowed. “You have something to do, don’t you?”

  He leaned back against her pillows, resting his head on his crossed arms. “Nothing more
important than you.”

  “Well, I have something to do,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Take a nap.” She rolled over, resting her head on his shoulder, and stared at the ceiling. “You wore me out.”

  He looked down at her, thinking he wished he could stay forever, just like this, with her leaning on him, trusting him. “You want me to stay with you?”

  “What, and watch me sleep? That would be creepy.”

  He laughed. “I was thinking I could use a nap too, but I’m supposed to be over at a friend’s house, helping his kids learn to ride.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “You have friends.”

  “They’ll be your friends too.”

  “I hope so.” She thought a moment. “I’ve been living my life the wrong way. So focused on winning I didn’t have time to live.”

  “I think it has something to do with your mother. Maybe she’s with you when you ride. When you win.”

  This time she looked at him a long time, her expression changing from trepidation to wonder.

  “Talk about creepy. You know me well.”

  “It’s not hard to figure out. But I think she’s with you all the time, win or lose.”

  She stretched and patted down a yawn. “You’d better go. Don’t leave those kids waiting.” She smiled. “I bet they’re excited, learning to ride from the great Brady Caine.”

  “I’m not so great.”

  “You are to me.”

  She tilted her head and he kissed her, a chaste, gentle kiss. He stood and grabbed his clothes, dressing as quickly as he’d undressed. When he finished, she had her eyes closed. He was pretty sure she was asleep, but he bent over the bed and kissed her good-bye anyway.

  She opened one eye and gave him a drowsy look. “Bye, Brady,” she said.

  She sounded sad. He knew she probably was wondering if he’d meant anything he’d said. The notion that she didn’t trust him ate at him, and he wondered how to put her fears to rest.

  “Suze?” he said. “You know that connection? The one you thought you broke?”

  She nodded, looking up at him, so open and trusting it dang near broke his heart.

  “It’ll never be broken,” he said. “We’ll always be connected, you and I. I don’t know what it is, but we’re two of a kind. Maybe we’re both a little lost, I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know either.” She blinked sleepily. “But for a little while there, I felt found.”

  Chapter 45

  Brady’s truck shook, rattled, and rolled over the bone-jarring road to his friend Pete’s place. He figured the physical punishment the road dished out was good practice for dealing with Pete’s twin boys, who seemed to view Brady as a combination jungle gym, climbing wall, and punching bag.

  It was actually Teresa’s place now, and Derek and Sam were Teresa’s boys. Pete was long gone, which was why Brady and his brothers pitched in and did their best to give the kids some reasonably responsible male role models.

  Pete had been a fellow foster kid. He’d aged out of the system about the time Brady and his brothers moved to Decker Ranch, but with no father and no responsible role models in his life, he’d become a bar-brawling, bull-riding biker who lowered his life expectancy every time he set foot in a bar or hoisted himself up on a bull. Shane claimed Pete had had a death wish, and Brady thought he was probably right.

  But when Pete met and married Teresa, a slim beauty from the nearby reservation, he changed almost overnight. Teresa was delicate as a summer wildflower, but she somehow took on Pete’s demons and won. Marriage and the military settled down the wildness in him, and he scored an assignment as a pilot, flying Apache helicopters.

  But the death wish he’d left behind when he’d fallen for Teresa followed him into his new life. Around the time the boys started school, he was deployed to Afghanistan, where he was shot down the third time he flew. No survivors.

  Teresa did the best she could to get along on her own, but Brady, Ridge, and Shane checked in on her now and then. Recently, someone had given the boys a couple of ponies. Teresa was worried about the boys’ safety, but Brady was more concerned about the animals. They were stout little critters, ill suited for the wild gallops the boys demanded. He spent a little time with them several days a week, teaching them some horse sense and kindness while he held them to a training schedule that would increase the ponies’ stamina.

  Pete might have passed on, but his memory was everywhere at Teresa’s. His old work boots still slumped casually on the doorstep, and his jacket was draped over a chair. And the two little boys’ dark eyes glowed with the same mischievous light that had lit their daddy’s gaze.

  If a man wanted some appreciation, all he needed to do was ruffle the boys’ hair, or give them a high five. Derek and Sam were seven now, and they hadn’t had a man around the house since they were less than five. They adored their Uncle Brady and tussled madly for his attention. When he looked in their eyes, he saw a totally undeserved hero worship that made him sad. He was just a cowboy. The boys’ father was a real hero, and he made sure to remind them of that often.

  The kids rode their new ponies with all the fearlessness of their Arapahoe ancestors. Brady dreamed up games that would channel their energy into competition. He also taught them some rudiments of horse care, so they wouldn’t kill the poor animals with their high jinks.

  “Thank you,” Teresa said on Wednesday, when he brought the boys back into the house. She was still a beauty, with her dark hair and eyes and her slight but strong figure. He was surprised she hadn’t taken up with some man by now, but she was careful because of the boys. He had to respect her for that.

  “Come in the kitchen. I made you some brownies.”

  “Thanks. But you don’t have to do that.” He patted his stomach. “Give ’em to the boys. They need the energy.”

  She laughed, leaning against the door frame. Her light cotton dress was almost transparent in the sunlight, and her long hair hung loose. Then she gave him a sly, sideways glance with her dark eyes.

  “You still seeing that girl? The barrel racer?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  It suddenly occurred to him that being Uncle Brady and helping the boys with their riding might be a sort of audition for the role of husband and stepfather. He averted his gaze from the outline of Teresa’s body, so clearly visible under her dress.

  “She doesn’t appreciate you.” Teresa’s gaze held his and he realized his hunch was dead-on.

  “Suze has a lot going on,” he said. “The accident and all. It’s kind of hard to appreciate the guy who put you in the hospital and screwed up your career.”

  “It was an accident.” Teresa’s dark eyes flashed. “You’re only with her because you feel responsible. But it wasn’t your fault.”

  Brady kept his eyes steady on hers, doing his best to make sure she understood that he meant what he said. “That’s not true. I’m with her because I love her.”

  Shoot. He did?

  He did.

  But, man, he shouldn’t have told Teresa before he’d told Suze.

  “You should move on.” Teresa gave him a sweet sideways smile that told him exactly where she thought he should move to. “You’re a good man, Brady.” She reached over and ran one finger up his forearm. “In so many ways.”

  Okay, now he knew for sure what she was trying to do. He needed to put a stop to it before she embarrassed herself.

  “I’m not moving on,” he said. “I belong to Suze. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She thrust out her lower lip in a pretty pout that told him it was definitely not okay. If this kept up, he’d have to stop coming for a while. But that wouldn’t be fair to the boys.

  She suddenly changed from a languorous seductress to a bundle of energy, grabbing a grocery bag from the closet and heading for one of the bedr
ooms.

  “Are you going to Cheyenne anytime soon?” she called out.

  “Next week, probably.”

  She bustled out of the bedroom, the grocery bag now packed full.

  “Could you drop off this stuff at Goodwill?” She thrust the bag into his arms.

  “Sure,” he said. “What is it?”

  “Just some old clothes.” She stood there, hands laced behind her back, swaying side to side like a little girl.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Okay,” he said. “Well. Ah, see you soon.”

  Teresa was just another example that showed Brady didn’t understand women. He knew she was still in love with Pete—or at least with his memory. But he also knew she struggled, both financially and as a parent. The boys were a handful, and without a man in the house, they ran wild.

  He hoped she’d find someone—someone decent, who’d be a good stepdad. It would be a big job, but Teresa, with her dark beauty and pretty ways, would be worth it for somebody. Maybe he’d try and match her up with one of his buddies. She deserved someone to love.

  He just didn’t think that someone should be Uncle Brady.

  Chapter 46

  Ridge Cooper steered the Phoenix House van past the Decker Ranch, heading for the Carlyle outfit. His wife, Sierra, believed deeply that her little brood of foster kids needed to give back to their community in order to grow roots and feel a part of it. She always said the town would save the kids, and the kids would save the town.

  She’d sure saved Ridge, so he figured she knew what she was talking about.

  She’d saved Sharlene too. He’d taken her out to Cooter’s place the day after he and his brothers rescued Speedo. Sharlene was as easy to spook as a wild deer. She wouldn’t say how old she was, and she didn’t want to go home to her parents any more than she wanted to stay with Cooter, so Sierra had talked the girl into staying at Phoenix House for a little while.