Cowboys Are For Loving

by Marie Ferrarella

  “You were watching?” Just how long had Kent been here?

  As the tempo of the song increased, his movements became quicker. It pleased Kent that she was keeping up without seeming to realize it. “It’s not against the law, as far as I know.”

  It might not be illegal, but it was rude. “Why didn’t you come over?”

  He spread one hand wide before he wrapped it around her again. “I did.” He spun her around twice, then pulled her to him once more.

  Face-to-face, she glared at him. He knew what she meant. “Sooner.”

  Hands on his belt, he did a little heel-and-toe step, then watched as she mimicked it. The woman had promise. “I didn’t want to.”

  Getting into the spirit of the competition, she did her best to keep up. “And now?”

  He took hold of her again, dancing with her instead of beside her. In every sense of the word, she was a handful. “Woman, you ask too many damn questions.”

  Brianne lifted her chin pugnaciously. “That’s because you don’t give me any answers.”

  How could she say that? “What the hell was all that before?”

  She grinned. “Fancy footwork.”

  Did she think she was going to get off with a smart remark? “You want to see fancy footwork? Hang on, lady. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  He was right, Brianne hadn’t.

  By the time the song finally faded away, they’d managed to clear a small space around them as others dropped out, content to watch the show rather than compete with it She was aware of a flash going off at one point, and saw Will retreat, grinning and holding an old instant camera in his hands.

  She supposed it was only fair. She’d been snapping photographs of the people at the party all evening, a sort of busman’s holiday. She made a mental note to ask Will to see the photograph he’d taken.

  Breathless, she gladly followed Kent from the dance area when he finally retreated. “Kent, you really surprised me. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder. “Lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  “Teach me.”

  The softly voiced words felt like a thunderclap as Kent absorbed them. He debated, wavered, then finally shrugged.

  Brianne had no idea if he was shrugging away his shell, or her entreaty.

  “Want some punch?” She was just recovering from the effects of what she’d already consumed, but she nodded anyway. “C’mon, then, let’s go get some and go somewhere more private. There’s way too many people around here to suit me.”

  Brianne looked around. Leaving didn’t seem polite. “Won’t your mother mind?”

  “Mind? She won’t even miss me.” He poured a glass, then handed it to her. “You, maybe. She’d notice you were gone under normal circumstances. But right now, her attention is on her baby boy and his fiancée.”

  The remark was said without malice. Affection for the members of his family wasn’t something he talked about, but he felt it just the same.

  With the glass he’d poured for himself in one hand, he put out the other to her. “Coming?”

  Ready for anything, Brianne placed her hand in his. “Coming.”

  A small thrill shivered through her as he closed his fingers over hers.

  8

  She wasn’t sure just where Kent was taking her. Hands linked, they walked away from the house until the sound of the party in the back was a dull buzz instead of a loud roar.

  It never ceased to amaze Brianne how dark it was out here, with only the moon to light the way. She’d been a city girl too long, she mused.

  How far were they going? She knew they weren’t going to walk to his house and there was nothing in between. They’d gone in the opposite direction from the barn. What was left?

  Just as she was going to ask, Kent stopped walking. Obviously, they’d arrived.

  Brianne looked around. Maybe there was hope for him yet. For someone who tried so hard to be stoic, he’d picked a very romantic spot. It was a grassy hill that overlooked the winding Yellowstone River far below. From here, it looked like a wide, velvet ribbon with flecks of silver on it where the moon had scattered its beams on the water.

  Kent had chosen this spot for a reason. He’d carved his initials on one of the trees here long ago. His and Rosemary’s. In case he forgot what letting a woman get under your skin ultimately accomplished, the tree would serve as a silent reminder.

  If only he remembered to look at it.

  Brianne turned from the view to look at Kent He hadn’t said two words since they’d slipped away. Maybe he felt that the land could do his talking for him. But she wanted to hear his voice, even if it wasn’t as eloquent as the scenery around them.

  Looking for something to say that wouldn’t fuel another disagreement between them, she commented on his brother. “Hank looks happy.”

  Kent smiled to himself. He’d wondered how long it would take before she finally broke down and said something. She’d lasted longer than he’d thought. If it were up to him, he could probably have prolonged the silence indefinitely. But Brianne seemed to need to fill the space up with words. All manner of words. It was an annoying habit, but it was growing progressively less so. Or maybe he was just getting more tolerant.

  “Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” He paused to slowly sip the glass of punch he’d brought with him. His father must have put in a double dose of his “special additive” in honor of the occasion, Kent mused, the half smile growing larger. “But then, it never took much with Hank.” Kent raised a silent toast to his brother and his good fortune. He sincerely hoped Hank would be luckier at love than he’d been. “He always had a happy disposition.”

  She couldn’t quite make out if Kent was sneering at that or not. “You say that like it’s a foreign state of being.”

  He shrugged, drinking a little more. Too bad he hadn’t thought to bring a flask with him. There were times when a man just wanted to sit in the darkness, toast the past and tie one on slowly.

  The flask wouldn’t have done any good, he decided. Having Brianne with him centered his thoughts on the present rather than the past and negated any chance of getting a pleasant buzz.

  That, he reminded himself, was his own doing.

  “For some of us it is,” Kent admitted. It was a long time since he could remember being really happy. “For some of us, the best we can shoot for is being content.” He considered that. “Or maybe just the absence of discord.”

  For a minute, he’d almost taken her in. But to shoot for only the absence of discord lacked passion. Try as he might to pretend otherwise, Kent did not lack passion. She’d witnessed it, sampled it. She’d tasted it on his lips when he’d kissed her.

  Turning, Brianne found herself almost against him. She didn’t step back. “Oh, I think you can shoot for more than that.”

  The hot evening breeze was playing with the scent she wore, swirling it around his head so that Kent felt just a shade dizzy from it. It still didn’t dull his mind. But it clouded it a little.

  “Maybe I could, but I won’t.” He moved to straighten, then thought better of it. Maybe, just this once, he’d enjoy the lady. He figured it was the punch talking. At least it was easier to blame what he was feeling on that than his own weakening resistance. “Don’t have the time. The ranch takes it all up.”

  He was hiding behind that excuse and they both knew it. This Rosemary person she’d been told about had definitely burnt him. But all scars healed eventually if you didn’t pick at them and Kent didn’t strike her as someone who’d pull at a scab.

  Brianne smiled at him. “I don’t see the ranch taking up your time right now.”

  No, but she was, he thought. She took up his time and his mind and even if it would soon be over, he shouldn’t be allowing this obstruction to be occurring at all. The tug-of-war in his mind between logic and needs seemed doomed to continue. “Takes more than a stray hour here and there to make a relationship.”

  She was surpri
sed that they agreed on something. It took a great deal of work to maintain a relationship. But it all began with that first step. “True, but it’s a start.”

  He wasn’t about to start a relationship. A relationship that had nowhere to go. He downed the rest of his drink, then dropped the glass on the grass near his feet. He looked at the river, avoiding her eyes. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  He was dancing around more now than he had on the floor with her. The chance agreement, she supposed, was a fluke. “Did you bring me out here to argue?”

  His eyes shifted toward her. To her face. Moonlight was kind to her, he thought, caressing her limbs, her skin. Making her look like something out of a dream. Maybe even his dream. He touched her hair. “No, I didn’t have arguing in mind.”

  His eyes held her fast. “What did you have in mind?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took her into his arms. “I think you know.”

  She threaded her arms under his, content to remain here like this with him for a very long time. “Tell me.”

  Why did she always want to talk? “I’m a man of few words.”

  Brianne snapped her fingers as if she’d forgotten that. As if that were possible.

  “That’s right.” Her eyes were laughing at him. “Then show me,” she coaxed, her words a soft whisper.

  He’d like to show her. Show her all night long. Slowly, patiently.

  Who was he kidding? The first time they came together it would be like two volcanoes going off, all noise and fire.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back. He wasn’t even clear as to why any longer.

  Kent shook his head. “You know nothing’s going to come of this.”

  “Didn’t ask it to,” she reminded him. She wanted him to know that strings weren’t part of the deal. “Whatever happens, happens.”

  She believed that, he thought, taking her at her word. “Good enough.”

  Surprising her, he gently touched his mouth to hers, then deepened the kiss by small degrees.

  It didn’t matter how it happened, the results were always the same, Brianne thought. He’d heightened all her senses so that she was acutely aware of everything around her.

  She was aware of the noise in the background, the sound of crickets close by. She was aware of the pounding of her own heart. Most of all, she was aware of the touch, taste and scent of the man who was swiftly on his way to becoming a habit.

  A habit she was finding that she didn’t want to break.

  Kent drew back, framing her face in his hands as he searched it for something he wasn’t all that certain he wanted to see. There were twin images of him reflected in her eyes. Shimmering. Trapped. Was that how it was? Was his soul trapped within hers now? Was it just that simple?

  He sighed. “Woman, how do you get your lips to taste like that?”

  Brianne was only just now coming around. His kiss seemed to devastate her the way nothing else could. She blinked, trying to make sense of his question.

  She wasn’t aware that her lips had any taste to them at all. She barely remembered wearing lipstick. “Like what?”

  “Bottled sin.” If sin could be bottled and sampled, Kent knew that it would taste exactly that way. Exactly like Brianne’s lips.

  Had it been raining, the smile in her eyes would have instantly dried him with its heat. “Trade secret.”

  “You’re entitled,” he murmured, taking another sample. With his hand beneath her chin, he tilted her head back and lost himself within her. God, but a man could get hooked on this. Hooked bad.

  “I had a feeling you might be here. We’re going to have a toast now, or are you two having your own private party?”

  Kent’s head jerked up to see Quint coming toward them, the grin on his face wide enough to drive a truck through. Damn it, this country just wasn’t big enough anymore. “You policing the party, now?”

  Quint’d had a hunch that Kent might come by here. As far as he knew, he was the only one Kent had told about the initials carved on the side of the tree facing the lake. Not even Rosemary knew. Kent never got the chance to tell her.

  Quint laughed at the moodily posed question. “If I were, you two would be run in for setting a fire without the proper ordinances.” He allowed himself one glance at Brianne’s flushed face before training his gaze on Kent. “Ma sent me looking for you two.”

  Brianne collected herself quickly and now triumph lighted her features as she slanted a glance at Kent. “See, I told you she’d miss us.”

  “Actually, she sent me looking for you,” he confessed to Brianne. Quint flashed Kent an apologetic look. “Ma still doesn’t know you’re here.”

  There was a reason for that. Kent hadn’t sought his mother out when he arrived. He’d thought to slip in quietly and just observe the party from the sidelines. He wound up observing Brianne instead.

  Kent eyed the faded initials he’d carved. Maybe it was time to fell this tree, he mused. Or carve something over the initials.

  “Maybe we should keep it that way,” he suggested. “Take Brianne with you, I’ll go home.”

  Quint shook his head. “C’mon, I found you, I’m bound to bring you back.” Quint took Kent’s arm to give him a little shove in the right direction.

  Kent drew his arm away. “You know how I feel about crowds like this.”

  “It’ll be painless, I promise. Humor Mom. She likes this kind of stuff.”

  “Just because she likes it, why do I have to suffer through it?” Kent sighed, surrendering. Without thinking, he tucked his arm around Brianne’s waist. “Well, it could be worse. I could be the one getting married.”

  “Ha, nobody’d ever have you.” Quint laughed. “Right, Brianne?”

  “Nobody I know,” she agreed.

  Kent scowled. Why did the right answer sound so wrong, coming from her? “We might as well get this over with.”

  Quint looked around Kent’s shoulders at Brianne. “He loves to put up a fuss, but he just wants to be coerced. He doesn’t mind family get-togethers nearly as much as he claims to.”

  “You could have fooled me,” Brianne commented, looking at Kent’s face.

  That, Kent thought, was the main idea.

  He wasn’t ready for daylight.

  Muttering an oath, Kent dragged himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He remained there for several minutes, trying to get his bearings.

  Slowly, awareness of his surroundings penetrated the fog that always encircled his brain first thing in the morning. He realized with a start that Brianne had gotten up ahead of him and was already here.

  He could smell the evidence.

  Though he hated to admit it, he was getting accustomed to waking up to the scent of fresh-brewed coffee and pancakes sizzling on the grill.

  Kent rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe she was here. No matter how early he’d awakened this past week, she always managed to be up sooner. She’d been here every morning, in his kitchen, as if making breakfast was somehow a silent part of the bargain even when he told her it wasn’t.

  Because the party had gone on until the wee hours of Monday morning, Kent was certain that there was no way Brianne would be here so early.

  If he’d placed a bet on it, he would have lost.

  The woman took a perverse pleasure in being annoying. Rubbing the last bit of sleep from his eyes, Kent got dressed as quickly as he could. He wanted no repeat performances of that first morning when she’d seen him in the altogether.

  At least, not unless Brianne was wearing the same thing.

  His thoughts were turning that way more and more, Kent realized. He supposed he should be grateful that she was leaving in five days. The fact that he wasn’t just told him that there was something going seriously wrong with him.

  He didn’t want to be accustomed to the sight of her, didn’t want to subconsciously feel that if he ventured out to his kitchen, no matter how early the hour, sh
e’d be there, doing things to make his mouth water.

  Some of it even having to do with food.

  No, this wasn’t good at all.

  “Why aren’t you in bed?” Kent asked accusingly as he walked into the kitchen.

  Brianne was getting used to his surly greetings each. morning. Jake’s remark, that if Kent wasn’t playing the part of an ornery cowboy he wouldn’t know how to behave, came back to her. Brianne decided that Kent’s father could very well have something there.

  She smiled as she turned to look at him, a plate of hot pancakes fresh off the grill in her hands. “Is that an invitation?”

  He lowered himself into his chair. The memory of last night insisted on lodging itself in the center of his thoughts. Who knew where the kiss would have led if Quint hadn’t come poking around? If things had gone their natural way, maybe he wouldn’t feel like a wounded bear that had been deprived.

  “You are the most brazen woman I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s because you only socialize with cattle.” She placed the plate in front of him, then reached for the coffeepot. “And, to answer your question, for your information, I haven’t been to bed yet.”

  He raised a brow in surprise. “Why not?”

  Contrary to his intention, Kent had remained at the party until it had broken up and all of the guests had left. That was at 1:30. What had she been doing between then and now?

  And with whom?

  There it was again, he thought crossly, that possessive feeling he not only had no right to, but no desire to lay claim to. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that the woman was turning him inside out for her own amusement.

  “I helped your mother and Fiona clean up, and then I had something to do.”

  Taking the mug in his hands, he drank the first swallow quickly, letting the hot liquid course through his veins and bring him back among the living.

  Setting it down, he waited, but she didn’t continue.

  “Are you going to tell me, or are you going to make me ask you?”

  She took one pancake for herself, then picked up the coffee she’d been sipping and came over to join him. “Nice to know you have some curiosity. I was beginning to think you weren’t human.”