Love Me Some Cowboy

by Lisa Mondello

  A laugh rumbled in his chest. "I'm sure trying my best."

  "I appreciate that." She raised her mouth to his. "I don't suppose you'd care to take further advantage?"

  "My pleasure."

  He kissed her again, harder this time, more consuming. He remained braced above her, careful not to cause her additional pain. She tugged him closer. She could handle a little pain if it meant being held by him. Kissed by him.

  Touched by him.

  As though sensing her longing, he swept aside the tattered remains of her shirt. He hesitated for an endless moment. Then slowly, so slowly she thought she’d go insane from the wait, he cupped her breast. She shuddered beneath the gentle caress, lifting herself a scant inch to encourage him. Apparently, he didn’t need much encouragement. He found the back clasp to her bra and an instant later, cool air washed between them.

  “Freckles,” he whispered in wonder.

  She started to cover herself, but he stopped her. “You like my freckles?” she asked, self-conscious beneath his scrutiny.

  He nodded, his fascinated gaze locked on her breasts. “Every last itty-bitty one of them. All twenty-three.”

  A soft laugh escaped. “You counted them?”

  “Every last itty-bitty one of them. Twenty-two on your nose. Twenty-three on your breasts. And right now, they’re all mine.”

  Curiosity consumed her. “What do you plan to do to them?”

  “This…”

  He lowered his head to her breasts and kissed a path of fire across them, counting them off as he went. By the time he hit twelve, she couldn’t help squirming in reaction, her breath escaping in desperate little gasps. “Holt, please.”

  “I’m doing my very best to please you.”

  No question about that, though it also left her with a powerful frustration, a need that built until she’d do almost anything to satisfy it. Like rip his clothes off and have her wicked way with him. She possessed a general idea how to go about that sort of wickedness, if little practical knowledge. But then, she had little practical knowledge of cowboying skills and look how well she’d taken to them.

  He reached the twenty-third freckle. She waited, barely breathing, curious to see what he’d do next. She didn’t wait long. He took her nipple between his teeth and gently, slowly ran his tongue across the hardened tip. Her breath exploded from her lungs and she dug her fingers into his hair, holding him tight against her breast.

  “Do that again,” she pleaded.

  He did. He gave it his full attention before turning to her other breast and repeating the process. Unable to explain her actions, she parted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He sank against her, locked tightly into the vee of her thighs. There were too many clothes between them. He shifted against her, the abrasive rub of masculine against feminine driving her insane with need. She lifted her hips against his helpless thrust. He cupped her breasts again, teasing the tight buds, before renewing his acquaintance with her mouth, kissing her with a delicious desperation. And all the while, he shifted against her, rocking to a rhythm as old as mankind.

  She didn’t know what might have happened if her enthusiasm for the embrace didn’t override common sense. A sharp jab of pain reminded her of her less-than-perfect physical condition and she winced.

  Holt's reaction was instantaneous. He rolled off her. His breath escaped in a gusty sigh and he swore beneath his breath. Did he regret his actions? She studied his shuttered expression, searching for a clue to his thoughts. She came up empty.

  He glanced over at her, a lock of gilt-edged hair tumbling across his brow. "I hurt you. I'm sorry."

  She shrugged awkwardly. "Don't be."

  In a swift, easy move he gained his feet. "Time to get you cleaned up." She started to stand, but he shook his head in warning. "Sit still."

  "I can do it," she insisted.

  He raised a single eyebrow, pinning her with a stern, cool gaze. She sensed the return of his anger. But who was he angry at? Her, for her free fall into the hay wagon? Or himself, for having followed his more basic instincts? Probably a bit of both. Not that it mattered. She'd receive the brunt of his fury, regardless. She reached for the remnants of her shirt, pulling the tattered scrap across her chest, abruptly self-conscious of her nudity beneath his annoyed appraisal.

  "You don't listen too good, do you, Tex?" he snapped. "Let me make myself crystal clear. Stir at your peril."

  Considering how every muscle in her body protested the slightest movement, she decided he'd offered some sound advice. She lay back down. She ached from her belly flop into the mud puddle. But more painful still, she ached with a need so great it hurt to breathe. She suspected the latter would be the more lasting of the two.

  Holt disappeared through a doorway and a moment later she heard the sound of running water. Unexpected tears filled her eyes and she shut them, fighting an acute sense of despair. Perhaps her injuries were worse than she'd suspected. How else to explain this sudden weakness? A moment later, Holt lifted her in his arms.

  "Okay. Let's go," Holt said, crossing to the bathroom. There he thrust her, fully clothed, into the shower.

  "Oh, good golly," she said with a sigh, enjoying the flood of warm water that poured over her. Her thick coating of dust turned rapidly to mud, pooling at her feet. Bits of hay dripped from her hair.

  "Tex," Holt called. "It's time we discussed this problem you have with ropes."

  "You'd like to discuss it here? Now?"

  "Here and now. Help yourself to shampoo and soap."

  "Thanks, I will.” Considering what they’d just been doing, hiding behind a scrap of material more rag than shirt seemed ridiculous. She dropped it to the tile floor and reached for the plastic bottle and squirted a dollop of shampoo into her hand before applying it to her hair. It lathered up easily, smelling pleasantly of cedar and spice. "About my roping skills..."

  "Or lack thereof."

  "You, ah, you'd prefer me to keep away from ropes from now on?"

  "'Fraid so. It's only for two more days. After that our contract will be satisfied and you can practice all you'd like. On somebody else's property, that is."

  Cami bowed her head, suds dripping from her hair. What else had she expected? Had she really believed his kiss meant something? Had she really believed he'd want her to stay? "Is there any way I can change your mind?" Please, say yes. Please.

  His response came in a hard unequivocal voice. "Not that I can think of. I'm sorry, Tex."

  Her heart sank clear to her toes. "Me, too," she whispered. She spared him a peek. Was he counting again? She could have sworn he mouthed twenty-three.

  Then he said, "Tex?"

  "Yes?" Hope overflowed that single word.

  He simply shook his head and her hope washed down the drain. "I'm going to get you a change of clothes. Don't go anywhere, hear?"

  "Yessir. No, sir."

  With that, the door closed behind him and Cami was left to her misery. She stood beneath the warm spray, a bar of soap clutched to her chest. So what did she do now? Concede defeat? Give up and go home?

  Frowning thoughtfully, she rubbed the soap across all twenty-three of her freckles. She still had two days. She'd have to find a way to prove her worth to Holt. She'd force him to see he was making a huge mistake. But how? She set her mouth in a firm line. Texans were tough. Texans were determined.

  She'd find a way.

  * * *

  CAMI'S LAST DAY on the job dawned clear and bright. Desperation marked her expression. This was it. Today she'd prove herself to Holt. Come hell or high water, today he'd hire her on a permanent basis. She just needed to rope something without hurting anyone. Then he'd realize she could do the job and she'd become his official wrangler for the summer. That decided, she snagged a length of manila off the corral fence, determined to practice. Instantly, every child on the ranch gathered round.

  "Whatcha doing, Cami?"

  "You gonna rope Git again?"

  "Could you tie us up i
nstead?"

  Cami grinned at her following. "Practicing roping skills is serious cowboy work. You all stand clear and let me get on with my job."

  Obediently they stood to one side, calling the occasional word of encouragement. Just as she tossed the rope for the third time, Tina screamed. Cami glanced from the rope to the child. No way had she done anything this time. Absolutely, positively, no way.

  "Cami! Snake!" Tina pointed at the ground. A huge rattler sat coiled inches from the little girl's feet.

  "Get back," Cami ordered the other children. "Go for help. Hurry!" She turned to Tina. "Now, sweetheart, don't move. And try not to be afraid. I'm right here with you. But you have to promise me you won't budge so much as an inch."

  Tears filled Tina's big brown eyes. "I promise," she whispered. "Please, make it go away."

  Urgently, Cami cast around for something—anything—with which to save Tina. Sweat beaded her brow. She had to think fast. She had to act now. Any minute the child would panic and run and the snake would strike. Her gaze fell on a shovel leaning against the barn and she could have wept with relief.

  She addressed Tina once more. "I'm going to get something to hit the snake with, but don't worry. I'll be back in a sec. Don't move."

  With that she darted for the barn, snatched up the shovel and raced to within clubbing distance of the snake. "Close your eyes and hold real still," she instructed. Aiming carefully, she brought the shovel down on top of the snake in a single powerful blow. Moving with lightning speed, she swept Tina clear and, for good measure, smacked the snake a half-dozen times more.

  Cautiously, she raised the shovel and peered at the snake.

  Across the yard, Holt and Gabby came running, the other children at their heels.

  "The kids said there was a snake. Where is it?" Holt demanded.

  With a shaky finger, Cami pointed, then threw the shovel from her, her gesture one of loathing. She turned and buried her face in Holt's shirt. She couldn't bear to look at what remained of the critter. Holt's shirt, heck, Holt's arms, seemed a much safer place to be. "Did I kill it?" she asked his top button.

  "Dead and then some," he confirmed.

  She risked a quick peek over her shoulder and shuddered. "Is that...that...blood?" she whispered in horror.

  "I've noticed you tend to get kinda white and funny looking whenever you see blood," Holt said. "You have a thing about it, don't you?"

  She swallowed. Hard. "Blood makes me faint," she confessed.

  "Faint?"

  "As in, pass out cold."

  "Got it. That's not blood."

  She gazed up at him trustingly. "It's not?"

  "Nope. No way."

  "What is it?"

  "It's... Why, it's snake ooze."

  "Snake ooze?" she asked doubtfully, risking another quick glance. She burrowed into his shirt again. "It's awful red for snake ooze," she said in a muffled voice.

  He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. "It's red snake ooze," he insisted. "Trust me. I've killed many a snake and they don't bleed. They ooze. There's a big difference."

  "I still feel sort of dizzy."

  "Listen up, Tex." He captured her chin and lifted her face to his. He spoke firmly. "Cowboys, real cowboys, don't faint at the sight of ooze. Blood, maybe. I've seen it happen on occasion. But never ooze."

  She shivered, wanting to believe him, desperate to believe him. "No fainting over ooze?"

  "No, not ever."

  She relaxed marginally. "It's just that I was so frightened. And Tina... Tina!" She looked frantically around. "Where's Tina?"

  He rubbed her back with slow, soothing strokes. "She's safe in the ranch house. Everything's fine now. I've got you and everything's going to be all right."

  She clutched his shirt, calming beneath his gentle touch. "It's okay? Really okay?" She stared at him, losing herself in his gaze. Something hot and urgent burned in his eyes and her breath caught in her throat. Her grip on his shirt tightened.

  "No, Tex. It's not okay," he muttered, his head tilting toward hers. "I don't think it ever was."

  Before she had time to react to his harshly spoken statement, Tina's mother descended on them in a flood of grateful tears. The next thing Cami knew, she found herself parted from Holt and knee deep in guests. As one, they proclaimed her a heroine, shook her hand, slapped her back, and passed her around for a group hug.

  Gabby approached Holt. "That tears it," he said with a grimace. "Don't suppose we should tell them she killed herself a harmless old bull snake?"

  Slowly Holt shook his head. "Best not."

  "You do realize this means we'll have to let her stay on. Wouldn't do to fire the fool girl after she's gone and made a hero of herself by beating the stuffing out of a poor defenseless snake."

  "No, it wouldn't. Fact is, they'd probably lynch us." A smile crept across Holt's mouth. "Looks like we've got ourselves a new wrangler. She may not be much use with a rope, but she sure has a way with people."

  "Not to mention snakes. If'n you was smart, you'd lock up every rope and shovel on the place. Afore she kills somebody." With that, he stomped off.

  Holt waited until the excitement died and the guests had turned their interest to other pursuits before approaching Cami. She peeked at him through shiny black curls, her expression slightly abashed.

  More than anything he wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to watch those glorious blue eyes deepen with passion, to see that dimpled smile slip across her face, to count each sun-ripened freckle bridging her pert, upturned nose. But most of all, he wanted to toss her across his saddle and take her up into the hills where he could make love to her beneath a star-studded sky, losing himself in her warmth and desire.

  But he couldn't. He'd learned that lesson once already. He didn't care to learn it again.

  "They sure did make a fuss," she said hesitantly.

  He leveled a cool, serious gaze in her direction. "You did good, Tex. You kept your head, you acted instead of panicking, and you saved Tina from a potentially dangerous situation."

  A swift flush streaked her cheeks. "There wasn't any choice," she insisted in a low, earnest voice.

  "Sure there was." Unable to resist, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "But it's nice to know I can count on my newest wrangler to act sensibly in times of crisis."

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, he caught the small hitch of her breath right before a huge quavery smile spread across her face. "I'm hired? Permanent for the summer?" He nodded and she launched herself into his arms.

  He caught her in a tight embrace. "You're hired, Tex," he confirmed in a husky voice. "Permanent for the summer."

  A horn blared behind them and they hastily parted, turning as one. A pale blue Honda glided to a stop, and out of the driver's seat slid one of the most beautiful women Holt had ever seen.

  He guessed her to be in her mid-thirties, a mass of silky blond curls floating like a silver curtain about a perfect oval face. She wore a pink silk suit, frilly lace blouse, and pearls. On almost anyone else they would have looked ridiculous, but in this case they suited such a tiny, delicate woman. Eyes as blue as a summer sky stared at him, amusement and curiosity gleaming in their depths.

  Beside him, Cami started. "Momma," she exclaimed in an astonished voice. "What in the world are you doing here?"

  Chapter 6

  HOLT SHOVED HIS hat to the back of his head. "Momma?" he repeated in disbelief, looking from Cami to the blonde. "You've got to be kidding."

  "No, I'm not kidding." Cami rushed to her mother’s side and pulled her into a fierce hug. Then she released the tiny woman and turned to face her boss. "This is my momma, Charlotte Greenbush. Momma, this is my boss, Holt Winston."

  Holt tipped his hat. "Welcome to the A-OK Corral."

  "It's a pleasure, Mr. Winston. And I appreciate your taking such good care of Camellia." Charlotte glanced at her daughter and smiled. "I'm so relieved your two weeks ar
e up. It seems like years since you left Richmond, instead of days."

  Cami stirred uneasily. "I've missed you, too." What in the world was going on? Her mother hadn't mentioned visiting, and yet here she stood, big as life. At least, as big as her five-foot-two inch frame allowed. Something had to be up. "Um, you haven't mentioned why you've come. Just passing through?" She couldn't keep the hope from her voice, vain as she knew it to be.

  Charlotte laughed. "I've come to bring you home, of course."

  Of course. Cami sighed. "Momma," she said, not in the least surprised by her mother's misinterpretation of the facts. "I explained all this to you before I left. I'm working here for the summer."

  Her mother clasped her hands together in a white-knuckle grip. "I assumed that once Mr. Winston realized you didn't know a blessed thing about ranching, he'd send you on your way."

  Cami cleared her throat and darted a quick look in Holt's direction. "A reasonable assumption, I'll admit. But he hasn't fired me. Yet."

  Holt inclined his head. "Give it time."

  Concern lined Charlotte's brow. "In all honesty, I'd rather not give it any more time. I'd hoped that once Camellia had a chance to see how a ranch worked, how different reality is from imagination, she'd be ready to leave." She addressed her daughter, her request softly spoken yet firm. "Why don't you get your things together? We can drive home, just the two of us, and have a nice mother/daughter vacation along the way."

  Cami stared at the tips of her boots, struggling to find a tactful way of handling this latest turn of events. Hands down, she couldn’t ask for a sweeter mother in the world, or a woman who inspired any greater devotion. A kinder, more considerate person didn’t walk the earth. True, she often seemed a mite helpless. But caring for and pampering her tiny mother came as naturally to Cami as breathing.

  For all her twenty-four years she'd tried very hard to grant each of her mother's requests. Well, within reason. Unfortunately Cami couldn't grant this particular one. Being able to work a ranch was important, too important for giving in.

  "Momma, you and I need to get a few things straight.” She nailed her mother with a cool, unflinching gaze. "All my life, all I ever wanted was to be a cowboy like Poppa. You know that."