Cowboy Up

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “My lips are sealed,” she said. “It’s our little secret.”

  Intrigued with his new thought, he studied her. Her cheeks were flushed and when his glance traveled over her, she shivered slightly. “Emily, I’m thinking that by solving my problem, you’ve created one for yourself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe now you’re the one jacked up on sexual frustration.”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “Maybe just a little. No problemo.”

  “That’s not fair. Do you want me to—”

  “No!” She drew back against the door. “I mean, no, thank you, although it’s kind of you to offer.”

  “It’s not kindness that prompted me. I want to.” Now that he understood what had happened, his fingers itched to slide inside her panties and return the favor.

  “It’s a bad idea. One little episode like we just had can be pushed under the rug. Making out all afternoon — not so much. We could slide right into a full-blown affair if we’re not careful, and the more we get involved, the more likely we’ll be found out. Besides, we have work to do.”

  “That’s a fact. But if we skip the horseback ride, then we’d have time for me to even the score.” And he’d love to do that. Giving her a climax now seemed like a most excellent concept, and no one would ever have to know about that, either.

  She shook her head. “We’re already even. I created a problem for you and now I’ve taken care of it. We need to move on.”

  “What’s the matter? Are you afraid to let me see you lose control the way I just did?”

  “Of course not! I’m trying to minimize our involvement. Anyway, giving a guy an orgasm just involves unzipping his pants. With a woman it’s more complicated.”

  “Not really.” He was growing impatient with her stubborn refusal.

  “It is too more complicated. Your… equipment is all external. Mine’s internal.”

  “Insignificant details.”

  “Anatomically speaking, it’s not insignificant at all.”

  “Practically speaking, it is. I might have to unfasten your belt and unbutton your jeans, but that takes no time. I’m a cowboy. I know my way around a pair of women’s britches.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “All I need is room to maneuver.” He gave her a lazy smile. “If you’d said yes five minutes ago instead of arguing with me, you’d be having an orgasm right now.” He watched her pupils dilate as desire gripped her. “What do you say?”

  “No.” She swallowed. “Please start the truck.”

  “I think you’d really like it.”

  “That’s not the point. We need to draw the line somewhere. What’s done is done, and we can put it behind us and forget about it.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “You expect me to forget about it?”

  “Why not? It was one quick climax to lower your stress level, not much different from a sneeze or a cough. No big deal.”

  “A sneeze or a cough? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Studies have shown that a good sneeze is very similar to—”

  “You’re seriously telling me that you’d just as soon sneeze as come?”

  She looked away, her color high. “Well, that may be a slight exaggeration. My only point is that a climax isn’t that big a deal.”

  “If you say so.” He straightened and reached for the ignition. “But then, I’m willing to bet you’ve never had one courtesy of a cowboy.”

  Chapter Six

  Emily had plenty of time to think about cowboys and climaxes during the next two hours. After she and Clay unloaded the tables and benches, they collected piles of rocks to line the fire pits. Then she threw herself into the job of digging the smaller one in hopes the sweaty labor would eliminate her desire for sex with the gorgeous guy working a few yards away.

  No dice. While shoveling, she tried to distract herself by concentrating on her natural environment. But the scent of warm grass and the distant gurgle of a creek only reminded her that she was alone in this glorious place with a man who’d offered to give her pleasure. Even though she wouldn’t allow herself to look directly at him, she was aware of every move he made.

  Finally, when the pit seemed deep enough, she laid down her shovel and rewarded herself with a quick glance in Clay’s direction. Oh, dear God. He’d taken off his shirt.

  Considering his parting shot, he’d probably done it on purpose. She couldn’t be sure of that, because it was hot work. If she could have taken off her shirt she would have. Women weren’t given the same leeway to strip down, though, which left her overheated both inside and out.

  A smart woman would save herself some grief by turning away from the rhythmic flex of biceps, pecs, and delts every time Clay drove his shovel into the ground. Emily wasn’t very smart, because she couldn’t stop staring. Obviously he’d worked shirtless at other times over the summer, because his skin had been kissed to a golden hue by the Wyoming sun.

  Tossing his shovel aside, he began lining the pit with rocks, which meant he had to lean down. A lot. Each time, the soft denim of his jeans pulled tight across his picture-perfect ass.

  Emily tingled all over. Oh, baby.

  As if sensing her ogling, he looked at her, his face shadowed by his hat brim, his expression unreadable. “Tired?”

  Tired of being noble. “A little bit, I guess.”

  “Then take a break. You’ve done plenty, and I can finish up with the rocks. Go on over to the truck and relax.”

  “Maybe I will.” But if she stopped working she’d have nothing to do but watch him, and that wouldn’t help her condition at all. She pointed to a faint set of tire tracks leading toward the line of trees. “Does this go to the creek?”

  “Yep. If you can hang on for a few more minutes, I’ll drive us over there and you can splash some cool water on your face.”

  Her face wasn’t the main area that needed cool water, but she wasn’t about to tell him. “If you don’t mind, I’ll walk on over now.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just follow the tracks and they’ll take you straight to the bank of the creek. I’ll pick you up when I’m done. And thanks for all your help, Emily. You’re a hard worker.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “To be honest, I am a little bit surprised.”

  That irritated her. He might be yummilicious with his bronzed shoulders gleaming in the sun, but she couldn’t let him get away with insulting her. “Look, I may not have a college degree and a career plan, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to work.”

  “It’s not about school or jobs. It’s…” He paused, braced his hands on his hips, and blew out a breath.

  “Spit it out, cowboy. You’ve come this far, so you might as well get it off your chest.” Your incredibly muscled chest.

  “Hell, this is none of my damned business. But I like you, and I can’t figure out why, when you’re perfectly capable of supporting yourself, that you still take money from your dad every month.”

  She stared at him. “What in hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the checks he sends you. That money might seem like nothing to you, but it’s a good portion of his paycheck.”

  She folded her arms, so ready to take this cowboy down several notches. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. That money doesn’t come out of his paycheck. It’s part of my inheritance from my grandparents.”

  He hesitated for a moment, but then he shook his head. “That can’t be right. The ranch is a small place. Somebody would know about an inheritance.”

  “He’s a private man. Which brings up my first question. How do you know he sends me money? Are you two so close that he confides all his financial secrets?” She didn’t like the idea that Clay was privy to things even she didn’t know.

  “It’s not just me. We all know. Even though he gets a decent salary, he never has spare cash, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was still mailing checks to Cal
ifornia.”

  She went from angry to horrified. “Are you saying that everyone on the Last Chance thinks I’m sponging off my father?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “That’s awful! I’m surprised anyone’s nice to me.”

  His voice gentled. “They’re nice to you because of Emmett.”

  She closed her eyes in dismay. Then slowly she opened them again. “And I suppose no one has thought to tell my dad that they think his daughter is a spoiled brat who’s soaking him.”

  “Of course not. Why would we? That’s why I asked you about it. You don’t seem like the kind of person who would do that.”

  “I’m not that kind of person! It’s an inheritance!”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he told me. Are you now claiming my father’s a liar?”

  “No, I’m not. But it doesn’t add up, Emily. The guy never has extra money, and it seems like his parents would have left him something, too, especially if they trusted him enough to manage your inheritance.”

  She wished his logic didn’t make so much sense. “He’s not the type to spend on himself, that’s all. Maybe he’s tucked his portion away in a bank.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “And I don’t think you’re qualified to have that opinion, unless you’ve been peeking at his bank statements.”

  Clay sighed. “I haven’t, and neither has anyone else. But we all know that he refuses to marry Pam Mulholland because she has more money than he does, so if he has some inheritance stashed away, then—”

  “They’re that serious?” Emily’s stomach tightened. Sure, her parents had the right to find somebody else, especially after all these years, but again, that was logic talking.

  “I think they might be in love, if that’s what you mean. But your dad’s old-fashioned, and doesn’t like the idea of marrying somebody who’s better off financially.”

  “This is crazy. None of it makes sense.”

  He stepped closer. “I can see you’re upset, and I’m sorry. But I couldn’t keep quiet after the way you’ve been working this afternoon. Your actions don’t fit the reputation you have around here.”

  “Thank you.” The concern in his dark eyes comforted her, but the nearness of his sweaty, virile body threatened to obliterate her good sense. She had a sudden vivid image of sex on a picnic table. That was a bad idea on so many levels, with the most obvious one being a lack of birth control.

  He gave her a wry smile. “You know, in some ways it would have been easier on me if you’d been a brat.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” She’d better get out of here before the chemistry between them took complete control of the situation. “Listen, I’m going to walk to the creek and think about this. I obviously need to have a discussion with my dad, but…”

  “Tomorrow’s his birthday.”

  “Right. I mean, maybe there really is an inheritance, but I tend to think you’re right that he made it up, for whatever reason. Confronting him with this won’t be easy for either him or me.”

  “No, probably not.” His voice was rich with compassion.

  Hearing that compassion was a turn-on. Or maybe hearing him recite the alphabet would be a turn-on. Still, he was the only sounding board she had right now, and listening to his reaction might help her figure out what to do.

  “There’s something else,” she said. “I’ve banked all the money instead of spending it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Yes.” She peered up at him. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “It shouldn’t be, now that I know you better, but I would have expected you to spend at least part of it.”

  “So will he, and he may be upset that I haven’t. But at eighteen I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. At twenty-seven, I still don’t know. I wanted to save the money until I had a better chance of spending it wisely, whether it’s for a college degree or to start my own business.”

  “You must have a fair amount tucked away by now.”

  This part of her life she could be proud of. “I seem to have a knack for investing, so I’ve done well with what he’s sent me over the years.” She paused. “But I’m not sure how he’ll take any of this, so can we… can we keep this conversation just between us for now?”

  He nodded. “That’s a given. But don’t you want to set the record straight with everyone at the ranch?”

  “I’d love to, but my dad comes ahead of worrying about what everyone else thinks of me, so I want to proceed with care.”

  “Understood.”

  “All right, then.” She resisted the urge to touch him. Even a small gesture like putting her hand on his arm could ignite the passion smoldering just beneath the surface of their seemingly calm discussion. “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay and help finish up with the rocks?”

  “I’m sure. Take some time alone to think this through.”

  “Okay. See you soon.” She turned and began walking down the widest of the two tire tracks through the meadow.

  “I’ll drive over shortly,” he called after her.

  “Thanks!” She hoped that by the time he did, she’d have some plan for dealing with her father. But she also needed a plan to deal with Clay.

  Now she realized why he’d had that prickly edge to him. He hadn’t liked being attracted to someone he didn’t approve of. Now that he knew she wasn’t taking advantage of her father, he had no reason to dislike her. As he’d said, she’d made it tougher for him.

  Tougher for herself, too. Still, they might make it through without giving in to their feelings for each other. As he’d said before, he didn’t want to risk a messy entanglement with her that might damage his relationship with the only father he’d ever known. Besides that, he was a former foster kid. Emily was no psychologist, but she had to believe Clay would want to avoid anyone who was guaranteed to leave him.

  Those two issues loomed larger the more distance she put between her and that dark-eyed cowboy. Their problems arose when they spent too much time within a three-foot radius of each other and the issues that should keep them apart… didn’t. She couldn’t do much to prevent their close proximity for the next hour or so, but once they’d returned to the ranch, she’d keep out of that three-foot radius danger zone.

  She reached the trees about the time she had that thought, and she stepped gratefully into the shade. She caught the flash of a sunlit patch of water through the maze of trunks and headed for the liquid sound the creek made as it slid over rocks and fallen branches. Somewhere she’d read that cascading water gave people a more positive outlook.

  That should be a good thing as she considered how to broach this subject with her dad. She’d wait until the day after his birthday, though. Mostly she expected him to be embarrassed that he’d been caught in a lie that he’d been telling her for nine years.

  She wasn’t sure what had motivated him to disguise the checks as an inheritance, but she could guess. He wanted to guarantee that she’d take the money without guilt. Her dad knew all about guilt. Apparently he’d blamed himself for being an absentee father, and sending her money every month soothed his conscience.

  But when he found out that she hadn’t touched any of it, how would that affect him? She didn’t know for sure, but she was afraid he’d take it as a rejection of his loving gesture. And all the guilt he’d sloughed off as a result of sending those checks would come roaring back.

  No, she couldn’t bring up the subject until after his birthday. Sarah had gone to a great deal of trouble to make the celebration special, and Emily would be a most ungrateful houseguest to ride in and spoil it all. That would show her to be easily as selfish as everyone thought she was.

  She reached the creek and sat down on a fallen log to take off her boots. Until today she hadn’t worn them for more than five minutes, and they weren’t broken in. Dangling her feet in the water sounded like an excellent idea. Besides, the closer she got to the water, the more it sho
uld improve her mood, right?

  Leaving her boots and her borrowed hat by the log, she looked for a place on the bank that would allow her to sit, but no log or branch had fallen into a convenient position and the rocks were wet. If she wanted to put her feet in the water, she’d have to wade in. So be it. She rolled up her jeans and edged down the embankment.

  She gasped as her toes made contact with the icy creek, but she was a surfer. She could take the cold. She also had excellent balance, so standing on smooth stones while the water rippled around her was child’s play.

  As she congratulated herself on solving her problem of achy, sore feet, she glanced across the creek, which was only about as wide as an average hotel room, and came eyeball-to-eyeball with an SUV-sized bull moose. Or she assumed it was a bull moose. He looked a little bit like Bullwinkle, and his antlers could have served as a coat rack for a family of six, which probably meant this was a male.

  She stood very still, and so did the moose. He seemed as surprised to meet her as she was to meet him, but she thought the moose had the advantage in this encounter. She vaguely remembered news stories of people being trampled by a large moose, but hadn’t that been in Alaska?

  This was a Wyoming moose, and she could hope that they were friendlier. Maybe the only thing this guy wanted was a cold drink. So far as she was concerned, he could drain the creek dry. She would just stand there, not moving.

  The moose, however, didn’t seem willing to stay on his side of the stream. When he stepped into the water with what Emily now viewed as killer hooves, she panicked and backpedaled on the slippery rocks. She went down in a very ungraceful sideways move that tossed her into deeper water.

  In a sense, that could be a good thing. A moose might not be able to trample her to death in three feet of water. Still, she could certainly drown in that depth if she didn’t get her head out soon.

  Flailing to the surface might not be a good idea with Bullwinkle around, but she had this little issue of breathing. Grabbing at mossy rocks, she managed to get her head up far enough to gulp for air and take a quick moose survey. No Bullwinkle.