Real Vintage Maverick

by Marie Ferrarella

  She looked at Cody to see if he was teasing her. But his expression looked serious. “You don’t have any visitors at all?”

  He shook his head. There was a time when the ranch rang of laughter and the sound of company coming and going. But that had all ended when Renee left his life. Now it was only about getting the job done. For eight years, that had been his only focus.

  Until now.

  “Visitors get in the way of the work,” he told her bluntly.

  She couldn’t imagine what being isolated on a ranch like that was like. As far back as she could remember, there were always people around her. Granted at times it was just the family, but when there are seven other siblings as well as two parents, “just” the family could amount to quite a crowd.

  Apparently his life was the complete opposite of hers, Catherine thought. “Doesn’t that get lonely?” she wanted to know.

  He looked at her for a long moment. What was he looking for? she wondered. What did he see? “It didn’t before.”

  The way he said it made her think that perhaps Cody had reassessed his lifestyle recently and found it to be lacking. Was it that the loneliness had finally penetrated so deeply that he had become dissatisfied with his lot and decided to see about changing it or was she just reading too much into his tone, turning it into what she wanted to hear? She honestly didn’t know. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to be lonely anymore. She wanted him to be happy.

  * * *

  Within the quarter hour, their horses saddled and ready, they were about to head toward the bluff. The picnic basket Cody had prepared was strapped down and anchored across his saddle horn. Mindful of disturbing it, Cody swung himself into his saddle, carefully avoiding jostling the basket.

  As he took his reins into his hands, he glanced at Catherine and promised her, “Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow.”

  He was completely unprepared for the gleam he saw suddenly entering her eyes as she listened to what he had to say.

  “Slow is for old people!” she declared with a laugh.

  The next thing he knew, she kicked her heels into the mare’s flanks and cried, “Let’s go, Buttercup. Let’s show him what you’ve got.”

  Before he could say a word or even register his total surprise, Catherine was galloping away, essentially leaving him and the stallion he was riding staring after her, dumbfounded.

  He’d been played.

  It took Cody less than a heartbeat to come to. The second he did, he pressed his heels into Wildfire’s flanks, urging the horse to give chase. The horse obliged at lightning speed.

  Cody caught up to Catherine quickly enough, despite the fact that Buttercup’d had a decent lead. Fast as she was, the mare was no match for his own mount, a horse he’d picked for speed as well as his willingness to be trained—once the stallion was finally tamed.

  When the two horses were finally side by side, Cody leaned over his own mount and grabbed the reins out of Catherine’s hands, pulling her mare—and her—to a dead stop.

  The look in Cody’s eyes was part surprise, part annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me you could ride like that?” he demanded.

  It took her a couple of seconds to stop laughing and answer him. She hadn’t meant to trick him, but when he given her an opening, she just couldn’t resist playing the part of a helpless novice.

  Catherine prefaced her explanation with an apology, hoping that would erase any hard feelings he might be nursing.

  “I’m sorry. But you seemed so caught up in your role as the big, protective cowboy, I thought I’d let you enjoy it for a while.” She tried to keep a straight face, but it was next to impossible. Laughter kept bubbling up in her throat. “You should have seen your face when I kicked Buttercup’s flanks. You looked as if you thought I’d lost my mind.”

  “That’s because I did think that,” he admitted honestly. Either that or she had a death wish. He’d believed her when she’d initially alluded to not being able to ride at all.

  Who knew she was setting him up?

  Catherine laughed with pleasure again, then took a deep breath as she tried to get herself under control. It wasn’t easy at first, but she finally managed. That was when she finally looked around at her surroundings.

  Her breath caught in her throat. “You were right,” she said almost humbled. “It is beautiful up here. And it definitely is the perfect place for a picnic.” She flashed him a wide grin that, unbeknownst to her, came very close to unraveling him. “Thanks for making me come, Cody.”

  Inclining his head, Cody murmured, “You’re welcome,” just before he dismounted. Untying the picnic basket, he lifted the handle up over the saddle horn and took it down. “That wild ride couldn’t have been good for what’s inside,” he surmised, lifting the lid to look into the basket.

  Just as he’d suspected, everything looked as if it’d had an eggbeater applied to it.

  Catherine had already slid off her horse. Holding on to Buttercup’s reins, she crossed over to Cody. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she told him, her eyes smiling up into his.

  Having her this close to him in a place that meant so much to him made Cody want to toss the basket aside and just sweep her into his arms. Hell, he could feast on her lips alone for hours.

  The temptation was almost overwhelming. But despite the whimsical way she was behaving this afternoon, Cody had a strong gut feeling that if he acted on his impulse, the only thing he’d wind up doing was scaring her off.

  There was no doubt in his mind that she was a complex character, this woman who had managed to take his heart out of the deep-freeze it had been residing in these last eight years.

  So, with soul-crushing reluctance, Cody reined himself in. Setting the wicker basket down on the ground, he took out the tablecloth he’d packed. With a snap of his wrists, he tried to get the entire tablecloth to gently float down onto the grass in a straight fashion.

  The wind had other ideas.

  Catching the underside of the tablecloth, the wind wrecked havoc on any hopes of getting the tablecloth down evenly.

  Catherine came to his aid, taking two of the corners and pulling the cloth taut.

  Between them they spread the checkered tablecloth—how typical, she couldn’t help thinking, doing her best not to allow him to see her amusement—out evenly on the grass. Cody quickly placed the basket on one end to anchor down the cloth and then proceeded to empty it out, putting everything he’d packed within Catherine’s easy reach.

  Within minutes, it was ready.

  Catherine sat down cross-legged on the edge of the tablecloth, directly opposite her vintage cowboy. The appreciative look in her eyes was genuine.

  “Looks like a feast fit for a king,” she told him, then suddenly looked up at him. “Don’t tell me you cook, too.”

  If he had to, he could survive, but there wasn’t a hell of a lot of variety in what he could prepare.

  “I can make simple things,” he admitted freely. “But I didn’t make this meal.” He had no intentions of taking credit for something he didn’t do, even though it might have been fun to see her reaction. “JC did.”

  “JC?” she repeated. He hadn’t mentioned that name to her before. Maybe he wasn’t as lonely on the ranch as she’d initially assumed.

  “My cook,” he clarified, then thought better of his explanation. “Well, he’s not really mine. JC used to do the cooking for my mother and father when I first started going to school. When they died, he hung around, making meals for my sister and me even though I told him that I couldn’t pay him. He told me not to worry about it, that he was keeping a running tally and I’d pay it off someday. He was only kidding, but I did. I paid him back and when I got the ranch back on its feet again, I officially hired him on.”

  “And you paid him back every penny you felt you owed him for those years, didn’t you?” Cody really didn’t have to answer. She knew that he had. She was beginning to know a great deal about this soft-spoken cowboy without actually beh
ind told.

  He shrugged as if he couldn’t see doing it any other way. “Didn’t seem right not to,” he told her matter-of-factly.

  Catherine could feel her smile spreading when she looked at him. Cody really was a very good man, she couldn’t help thinking. Not everyone had as much integrity as he did.

  “Someone else would have just chalked it up to having a Good Samaritan intervene. They’d see it as a favor, a good deed done by a man who felt sorry for two motherless orphans. That way, they’d completely forget about paying anything back. But you didn’t.” She brushed a quick kiss against his cheek, completely surprising him. “You’re a very good person, Cody Overton.”

  The compliment warmed him, but at the same time, it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like being in the spotlight, even for a second. He’d never cared for any undue attention. The truth of the matter was Cody really preferred staying in the background.

  Wanting her to focus on something else, Cody nodded at the food he’d spread out.

  “Try the fried chicken,” he coaxed. “It’s JC’s specialty. He’d be offended if I came back with any leftovers.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to offend the man,” she agreed, humor curving her mouth. She picked up a strip of chicken that had been fried to a golden crisp. Biting into it slowly, she was rewarded with an explosion of tantalizing tastes that immediately seduced her. “Wow, this really is good,” she marveled, more than a little pleasantly surprised.

  She’d been prepared to offer lip service about how delicious everything was because, after all, a lot of effort had been placed into this. But she didn’t have to fake anything. It really was good.

  Catherine made short work of the piece she’d been given. Closing her eyes, she savored the taste for a moment. Then, opening them again, she asked, “Does JC share recipes?”

  Cody thought before he answered and came up with nothing. “I don’t know. I never asked. But I’ve got a feeling that he would only surrender his recipes on his deathbed—and maybe not even then.”

  The sound of her delighted laughter seemed to slowly weave its way under his skin and burrow itself deep into his inner core, then it quickly fanned out to effectively take him prisoner.

  A willing prisoner.

  Cody really wasn’t aware of what he was eating. He was only aware of the way Catherine was enjoying herself—and JC’s fried chicken.

  Aware of that and also aware of the all-too-profound fiery ache he was experiencing in his gut as he watched Catherine squeeze all the enjoyment she could out of the moment.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You missed a spot,” Cody prompted.

  Catherine had surprised him by more than doing justice to the fried chicken he’d packed for their picnic. Wiping her mouth after she’d finished what was her fifth piece of chicken, she’d left behind a tiny crumb at the right corner of her mouth.

  Rather than act flustered that she wasn’t picture-perfect, the way most of the women he’d gone out with would have reacted, Catherine laughed softly and said, “You’re probably thinking that you can’t take me anywhere, right?”

  She brushed the napkin against her mouth again and somehow still managed to miss the offending crumb.

  At a loss for a response, Cody mumbled, “No, I never thought—”

  He didn’t get a chance to stumble through to the end of his sentence because she asked, “Better?” as she tilted her face beguilingly up for his closer scrutiny.

  “No.” He nodded at the offending golden speck. “It’s still there.”

  Rather than try again, Catherine surrendered her napkin to him. “Here, you do it. At least you can see what you’re doing.”

  Taking the napkin from her, Cody gently took hold of her chin and with strokes that were even gentler, sent the small, crisp crumb into the grass and parts unknown. He held her chin a second longer, feeling the full impact of the very strong attraction that was radiating between them.

  Cody dropped the napkin, leaned closer to Catherine and softly brushed his lips against hers.

  There was an instant quickening of his pulse, not to mention his loins, but he didn’t want to push anything, didn’t want Catherine thinking that he was attempting to take advantage of her in this isolated spot.

  Drawing back, Cody looked at her, desperately searching for something to say that wouldn’t have him stuttering like some damn fool kid out on his first date—even though that was exactly how she made him feel. As if he was on the brink of something brand-new and exciting that he’d never experienced before.

  Wildfire’s whinny brought Cody’s attention to his mount and, at the same time, to hers. She’d looked like poetry in motion, riding away from him earlier. It had made for a mesmerizing picture.

  “Where did you learn to ride like that?” he wanted to know.

  There was a fond look in her eyes as she answered, “My Dad put each of us on the back of a horse before we even learned how to walk. He insisted that we all learn how to sit on a horse as if we were part of the animal. He told us that knowing how to ride well could someday save our lives. When you’re a kid, you believe everything your father says. I’m sure that watching us learn probably stopped my mother’s heart more than once, but in the end, all of us were glad Dad was so adamant about making each of us learn.”

  Having all but been born in the saddle himself, Cody couldn’t argue with that kind of reasoning, but he could definitely take exception with something else.

  “You could have given me a heads-up, you know,” he told her, “instead of making me look like some damn fool idiot.”

  Catherine shook her head at the very idea. “I doubt if anything could make you look like a ‘damn fool idiot.’” The intimacy of the moment gave her the courage to ask something she would have normally pretended to ignore. “Why’d you stop kissing me, Cody?”

  The wide shoulders rose and fell swiftly. The question surprised him. “I didn’t want you to think I had an ulterior motive, bringing you here.”

  “So all you wanted to do was just eat?” she asked innocently.

  “When you say it like that...” His voice trailed off as he tried to get a handle on whether or not she was serious or putting him on. Did she want him to do more than just eat and talk or was she testing him?

  His limited experience with women left him at a complete loss for an answer.

  “Yes?” Her voice was almost melodic as it coaxed him to continue.

  When she looked at him like that, everything inside of him felt as if it had just been thrown into a churning whirlpool—and it was about to go over the side. “Oh, hell, woman, you’re driving me crazy.”

  “Why, Cody?” she whispered, her eyes lowering to his mouth. “Why am I driving you crazy?”

  She was less than a heartbeat away from him. He could feel her breath on his mouth when she spoke. His gut tightened.

  Instead of saying anything, he showed her. Pulling Catherine into his arms, he kissed her again. Except that this time, there wasn’t anything gentle, anything polite about the way his mouth covered hers. This time, there was an urgency to it. Kissing her came across like a matter of survival, that if he didn’t kiss her just like this, he’d be completely depleted of everything that allowed him to draw breath.

  But after a moment, his self-control reared its head again, warning him that a second longer like this and he would have gone over the edge, gone to a place from which there was no turning back, at least not for him.

  So with his very last ounce of strength, even though everything within him was screaming for him not to stop, Cody pulled back again.

  “That’s why you’re driving me crazy,” he almost shouted, his frustration taking solace in unproductive anger.

  Rather than scare her off or at least make her back away, creating a safe distance between them the way he’d hoped this display of temper would accomplish, Catherine whispered, “The feeling’s mutual,” saying the words so close to his lips that they almost seemed to
come from him instead.

  The words sealed his doom.

  “Oh, damn,” Cody groaned again, giving up the fight. Taking her and surrendering to her at the same time.

  The next moment, Catherine was back in his arms again and his mouth was pressed against hers. Except this time, he knew he wasn’t having his way with her. It was mutual. She was having her way with him as much as he with her.

  And that triggered almost a frenzied response within him, a frenzy that at the same time dictated that he exercise extreme control over himself, otherwise these wild, strange feelings would all wind up crashing into one another, and who knew the consequences of that?

  No matter what, Cody wanted some semblance of control over her, over himself so that his struggle, as it happened, wouldn’t seem as if it had all been triggered by her. Because that would certainly remove the last shred of power from his hands.

  But maintaining restraint wasn’t easy, not when she moaned the way she was moaning. Not with the way she felt like liquid gold in his hands, hot, pliable and so very spellbinding and enticing.

  Though he doubted if she would even understand if he told her, it was restraint that had his hands running along the curves of her body like this. He was employing restraint because he was touching her while leaving her clothes where they were. They served as barriers against his eager palms and questing fingers.

  All in good time, a voice in his head whispered.

  But before Cody could act on the insistent impulse that was throbbing in his brain, to his stunned surprise, Catherine began opening buttons. Catherine was the one removing layers of her clothing, pushing aside material so that he could touch her bare skin.

  And when he did, it was his turn to groan. To groan and grow short of breath as the very air seem to heat up between them.

  There was no path to satiation.

  The more Cody touched her, the more he wanted to touch her.

  And the more he wanted her.

  His breath all but backed up in his throat when she slipped her hand underneath his shirt, her fingers splayed, then moving as she seemed intent on memorizing the very contours and hard ridges of his chest.