Cowgirl Education: a Camden Ranch Novel

by Jillian Neal

  “Well, he got worse and worse while we were growing up. I’m the youngest of five kids. My sister is several years older than me, and my brothers are all older than her. Mama lost a baby between me and Natalie.”

  Extraneous details were a normal part of a confession like this. Dec knew that but his mind kept trying to fill in the information she wasn’t supplying. Each scenario was worse than the one before.

  “Anyway, my cousin Brock was my aunt and uncle’s only kid, but my parents really kind of raised him right along with the rest of us. They had no idea when they kicked my uncle off of the family ranch that they would take Brock with them. They were sure they’d leave him here and they would become his guardians. They never meant. . . .”

  “Holly, deep breath for me, okay?” He heard her audible breath. “Good girl. Now, it doesn’t sound like your parents did anything wrong, sweetheart, but tell me what caused them to make the decision to remove your uncle and his direct family from the ranch.”

  “He’d always been an angry drunk. Got his hands on Brock several times. Dad wanted to petition for full custody. He didn’t because everyone felt so sorry for my aunt, but it got worse. The more he drank the more demanding and angry it made him. He made a few passes at my mom when he was drunk. Dad was furious. It came to blows, but then he grabbed Natalie in the barn one afternoon. He didn’t know I was in there. I was really little. I screamed because he wouldn’t let her go and I didn’t know what he was trying to do to her. It all lasted less than two minutes before Dad and Luke came running. They’d heard me screaming. That was it. I guess she was lucky. It’s such a weird thing to quantify though. Why do we do that? Why do we take bad things and rank them according to how much worse it could have been?”

  “Because it momentarily restores our need to believe that everything will be okay. It allows us a moment of control. Just never discount what happened when you’re talking with your sister.”

  “I never have. I just meant, he never actually made contact with Natalie inappropriately, but his intent was clear. Of course it affected her. Mom and Dad spent three years driving Nat back and forth to Lincoln for counseling. It helped and it didn’t.”

  “Let me guess, she was a child when it happened and the therapist was able to help her regain confidence and security because your parents did everything right for a child. The problem returns when the adult tries to re-process the memories from their perspective and knowledge base, as a sexual being. That’s why you want to do this. You want to help your sister.”

  “Well, that’s not the only reason, but yeah, she struggles with dating and getting close to guys. I don’t think she’s ever slept with anyone. When Brock and his wife first moved back to the ranch a couple of years ago, she was a total bitch to both of them.”

  “Sins of the father must be paid by the son.”

  “Exactly, but Brock is absolutely nothing like my uncle. He would never do anything like that. I’ve never even seen him drink. He also doesn’t know what his father did. We’ve all kept it from him. It’s this big family secret. None of us want him to feel any more guilt over my uncle, but he really doesn’t understand why Natalie challenges him on everything. I just wish I could learn something that would help Natalie rediscover her sexuality in a healthy way.”

  “It’s not your lack of knowledge, sweetheart. Natalie has to learn that, and she will in her own time and space. I’m guessing an understanding partner that would be willing to guide her might go a long way as well.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I don’t like the idea that I can’t help her.”

  “That is probably the very hardest part of the job you’re after.”

  “Hey, Dec, would it be weird to ask you not to talk about our relationship at work until I graduate? I don’t want people thinking you got me a job there.”

  “Plan on sticking with me through graduation, huh?” Abject delight pushed the demons he’d been running from all day further away.

  His sexy cowgirl wanted to earn everything she got all on her own merit. Didn’t want a hand up. That was something he understood but it wasn’t the way the world worked very often.

  “I do plan on that, if you like the idea.”

  “I would like that more than you could ever know, sweetheart, and I won’t say one word about my girlfriend at work. But after work, you have to promise to be all mine all the time.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “Be careful, darling. That phrase could get you into all kinds of trouble.”

  “I’m hoping.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Holly’s hair whipped out behind her as she flew out of the paddock on Lightning, one of the Camden’s horses that got cycled in and out of work but hadn’t been claimed as primary horse by any of her brothers or sisters. Holly rather liked him. He was jet black with a white snip on his forehead.

  Best thing about Lightning — he would fly when that’s what you wanted, but didn’t mind slowing down so you could think. He rarely fussed and loved to be ridden. Her kind of horse. Maybe she should claim him. No one would mind, especially after Aurora Belle. She’d already helped Luke and Grant dig the grave. The ache in her arms paid homage to the work. She’d said her goodbyes, but a part of her still felt like it was missing. Every breath she took aggravated the hollow in her chest.

  The conversations she and Dec had in the dark of night replayed in her head as the ranch extended its open arms embracing her ride. The rapid rhythmic hoof-falls of the horse soothed her soul. She pressed her boots against his side gently. He readily picked up speed. Yep, definitely her kind of horse.

  She should probably head back to Lincoln, but something kept her riding west. She missed Dec desperately, but didn’t want to leave just yet. All of the words they’d shared via a phone screen, spoken and unspoken, spun in her mind.

  He was a sex therapist. They were falling in love. She could ask him to show her the things she so wanted to know. He would understand. What guy in their right mind wouldn’t agree to playing out my fantasies with me, sex therapist or not? If you want him to enact them, you have to spell them out. The two halves of her brain continued their opposition. They coupled with her mother’s blunt question about being able to talk with other people about their sex lives when she couldn’t even manage to say the words ‘sex therapist’ to her own father.

  Dec would never make fun of you or think your fantasies are weird. He’s probably heard of several you don’t even know about. That was the thing with fantasies. No one wanted to confess their own for fear of rejection or ridicule, which left women embarrassed about perfectly natural desires. Yes, she could quote shit like that all day on research papers and even her thesis, but that didn’t make it easy to discuss them in reality.

  Trying to play out the conversation she longed to have with her new boyfriend wasn’t any easier to imagine. ‘Dec, would you mind being my sexual tutor and helping me explore my desire to be dominated, spanked, and a few other things we don’t have to discuss now? I’m also open to suggestions. I mean, you already alluded to a few of those things and I’ve never been more turned on in my entire life. Maybe I could awkwardly write down some ideas for you or something.’ Dear God, Holly, you won’t even think the words, how are you going to say them?

  Lightning slowed when she slumped on his back, always attuned to his rider. She patted his side. “I can’t even talk about any of this with a guy I’m pretty sure I’d like to marry. How the hell am I going to talk about it with patients, boy?”

  Lightning gave her a less than helpful snort.

  Dec answered his phone before the completion of the first ring. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Hey.” Anxiety played in her tone.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I just keep thinking last night was some kind of dream. We both said we wanted to do this, right? And by this I mean. . . .”

  “A committed, monogamous, long-term, healthy relationship.”

  “Exactly.”


  “What are you listening to?”

  “Why did you ask me that?”

  “One surefire way to tell what’s on your mind.”

  “Rhianna.”

  “Mm, glad I asked. Would you like to have Sex With Me?”

  “I would, but I’m listening to Good Girl Gone Bad.”

  Dec shifted on his sofa, trying to loosen the chokehold his jeans had on his cock. “Somebody done you wrong, love, or is it the idea of the title that intrigues you?”

  “Definitely the title.”

  “Gonna have to take another shower.”

  Holly’s sweet giggle slipped from his ear to his heart and then headed directly south in a flood of heated blood surging to his member. “Am I to take it that my innocent cowgirl might like to be a bad girl for me?”

  “I’m not all that innocent. . .but yeah. . .maybe.”

  His mind conjured a thousand images readily. Her slight defensiveness said he’d hit the nail squarely on the head, but she didn’t really want to admit that out loud.

  “Maybe taking your innocence is one of my fantasies, you ever think of that?” Debating momentarily, he decided that was in fact the truth and he would never mind covering her wishes with his own if she was afraid of expressing them.

  “Really? You fantasize about that?” The irritation in her voice turned quickly to hope.

  “My fantasies of you come by the greedy dozen, darling.”

  “Are you feeling better today? Little more steady?”

  Well, that was an abrupt change or pace. He was going to have to work on her expressing her needs and desires. Making love was going to have to lose a little of its stigma if she was going to become a sex therapist. “Much better. Sometimes I have to remind myself how much better I am now than when I first got clean. The rough days still come, but they’re not as bad or as often as they used to be. That has to be good, right?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Not going to lie though, I missed you terribly. The cravings for you are stronger than the cravings for something to take away the pain of you not being in my arms. I went back and re-read Dr. Ortigue’s study. Still trying to convince myself what I’m feeling is normal. It’s easier to believe when I can see you and touch you. Where are you?”

  “I’m an hour outside of Lincoln. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  -------

  Dec made it to the door of her truck before she even had the engine turned off. She fell into his arms.

  “Damn, I really missed kissing you.”

  “What are you waiting for then?” she sassed.

  With that, he plastered her mouth to his own. Tasting her. Capturing her gasp of breath. Feeling her body as she melted into him. Her warmth penetrated his skin, easing his restlessness, soothing his soul.

  Her fingers knotted his t-shirt and pulled him closer. Her hips bumped readily into his in a slow grind. She might not want to discuss what she wanted, but her sweet little body knew precisely how to ask for what it needed.

  “You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” He dipped his hand down the back of her Wranglers in the darkened parking lot of her apartment complex and kneaded the ass he’d been fantasizing about paddling most of the day.

  “God, yes,” she whimpered in his mouth.

  “Naughty girl.”

  The volume of her moan slammed his heart into overdrive. Dear God, she was going to be his undoing. When she finally pulled away to chase her elusive breath, he forced himself to slow down and relish.

  Studying her, he called himself every unsavory name he could come up with. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Her body weak with desire certainly but also with exhaustion. Stop being an asshole for once. Stop taking more and give.

  “Come here to me.” Sweeping her off of her booted feet, he cradled her close.

  “Dec, I can walk. You don’t have to carry me.” She looped her hands over his neck and cuddled into him. Her body disagreed with her statement.

  “I want to carry you. You look exhausted, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

  “We stayed up talking until four in the morning. You’re tired, too.”

  “Hush.” He took her keys from her fingers and balanced her in the strength of his arms while he let them inside. He settled her on her feet and attempted to kiss her again, but he was denied.

  “Did you just tell me to hush, Dr. St. James? Finally occurred to me this morning on my ride why you always grinned when I called you Mr. St. James. You could’ve corrected me, you know.”

  “Doctor, mister, I don’t give a damn. I’m still pulling for Daddy or sex god, and you’re still talking, which is delaying my ability to take care of you.”

  “Just so you know, I would never shut up for anyone but you.” With a mischievous grin, she sealed her lips with the turn of a pretend key in the lock then grabbed the waistband of his jeans and dropped the invisible key in his boxers.

  Dec’s rumbled growl vibrated the thin walls of her entry way. “Very, very naughty, Ms. Camden.” He grasped her hand and pressed it to his burgeoning erection, forcing her to paw him, to bring him some sort of relief. She bit her lips together, refusing to give away any reaction.

  In challenge, Dec wrapped his hand over hers fully and proceeded to show her how to jack him off through the thick denim. Her eyes dilated and a rush of heat blistered her cheeks, but she kept up her end of the game, saying nothing and pretending to be unaffected.

  “Fine. Retrieve the key. I missed your voice. I just didn’t want you arguing with me about what I’m going to do.” He popped the snap on his jeans. Without further provocation, she snaked her hand down his boxers and wrapped it tightly around his fevered cock.

  Hot air hissed between his teeth. This. This was what he’d needed for what felt like a lifetime. He thrust into her hand. She spun her fingertips up over his head then pulled her hand away, making him burn.

  With another turn of a pretend key she unlocked her lips, giggled, and then tasted the pre-cum his body had provided. “And what are you about to do?” she asked after she sucked the last of him from her fingers.

  “Jesus Christ, you taunting me, sweetheart? That isn’t nice.”

  “I know. I’m being naughty, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember. To answer your question, I’m about to give you a bath.”

  “I was hoping you were about to fuck me.”

  “Anticipation, my love. Anticipation is everything. I need to take care of you in every possible way. Wash you with my hands. Feel you inside and out. Sate you. Then take you to bed and hold you all night long. I’ve decided I can’t sleep without you drooling on my chest.”

  Holly found herself swept back up in the cage of muscles that constructed his arms and chest. The whirlwind of Dec always managed to blow her off-course. She’d been trying so hard to communicate even a fraction of the fantasies she had about him, the things she wanted to explore. He’d been on board, she could tell, but he constantly held himself back.

  A bath sounded amazing, but she was thinking something far dirtier. Being clean was not on her agenda, and he was fighting with himself again. Anytime they were naked it seemed he raged against himself. She could watch it in his eyes. The light and the dark in constant conflict producing the most beautiful stormy grey she’d ever seen. Constantly at war with taking when he thought she needed him to give. She debated.

  “Dec, wait.” They were already inside her bedroom. She eased away from him and settled on the bed. He joined her. “I would love for you to give me a bath, but I’d also love to hop in the shower with you, have wild, hot, wet, kinky sex and then go to bed. I don’t want you to fight with yourself. It feels like you think you should give me a bath instead of taking what you want. I don’t want to be a concession.”

  “Holly, baby, no.” He eased a few strands of her hair behind her right ear. “You are never ever a concession. My God, you are perfect, and you care about some
one as completely worthless as me. Everything we talked about last night. . .I don’t know. . .I just. . .don’t think I explained it well. I have to do this right.

  “Addiction isn’t a lack of willpower or about making incredibly shitty decisions. It’s putting my wants above the needs of everyone else. It’s letting that part of me rule. I need to take care of you. I thought I was in love with Evie. I wasn’t. I was addicted to her. I need to prove to myself that this is different. I’m sorry if that isn’t what you want to hear. I’m sorry if I’m screwing this up. I probably am, but I don’t know any other way to do this. I have to always know that I’m not fucking up your life the way I did hers. So, yes, I fight with myself every single time we’re together, but you are never a concession. I have to protect you. . .from the way I can be if I lose myself. I need to love you the right ways. Not let my addictions rule and ultimately ruin this relationship. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I won’t ruin this.”

  “Hey.” She leaned in and brushed a tender kiss across his lips to make him stop talking. “Just promise you’ll try to remember that you’re not taking something if I want it, too. You’re giving me what I desperately want to experience, but I know we both had a rough weekend, so give me a bath.” A relationship with an addict wasn’t going to be easy. That much was obvious, and that was fine with her. Every cowgirl knew nothing worth having ever came easy.

  Two hours later, Holly traced her fingertip along the lyrics to Metallica’s Master of Puppets inked in heavy black lettering from Dec’s left shoulder over his breastplate to the bottom of his ribcage. The lyrics butted into what appeared to be smoky demons curling up out of his boxers to cover his side and parts of his back. His body was chiseled perfection. Every rippled muscle carved with a steel blade.

  “I’m probably going to drool on your tattoos again,” she warned.

  His chuckle jostled her body and steadied her heart. “I’m hoping.”

  His arm was covered in more lyrics, demons, and a cross made of numbers, dates, she assumed. Perhaps his mother’s birth and death dates and then Evie’s. She didn’t want to ask about the dates. There was something else she found far more intriguing. His left side was entirely covered in ink. His right untouched.