by Mima
“Lauren,” He kissed her cheek, her ear—“will you go out to dinner with me?”
Biting her lip at how crazy they were, she nodded. “Is there any good sushi around here? No? How about steak houses?”
He hauled her up to ravish her mouth. The kiss went on till dawn.
Congratulations. You have found the ending called Rio Bravo. Click this link to return to the Choice Index. Dare to decide again!
Epilogue: Walt and Lauren had five kids, eight grandkids, and never retired.
The corral it was. Good times among vibrant people suited her now. This vacation would start with a bang. The hooting and laughter was infectious and she was ready to dive into western ranch life.
Moving back into her cabin, she took a quick shower, leaving her hair alone. She changed into painted-on dark jeans with colorful embroidered scrollwork down the sides and paired them with a tight pale green shell and a loose, low-necked over-tee of pale blue. Strappy Roman sandals in silver and long silver chain earrings finished the look. Some fresh eyeliner on her upper lids and she was good to go.
The room key in her back pocket was all she bothered to carry. Coming up to the corral, she slipped past a family and found a spot along the fence. A riderless dark brown horse was kicking up his heels and wildly flinging his head. A man riding a speckled horse threw a lasso around its neck and used his horse to force it along the fence while another man darted out and grabbed the trailing leash. The horse continued to blow and shudder. After seeing the police horses in New York, Lauren thought the saddle looked huge.
The cowboy in the dirt was pulled to his feet by another man with a clasp of their hands. He limped off to the side to much applause. The men called out to each other, ribbing the fallen rider as the horse was led out and another, lighter one was forced into a fenced-in box facing the corral. The crowd oohed and aahed.
Lauren draped her arms over the top rung of the fence, at shoulder height. The metal was hot and she wished she had remembered her sunglasses. She had to squint a bit in the harsh light coming from the vast western sky. A cowgirl hat suddenly seemed more useful.
As she looked across the corral, a man standing opposite her caught her eye. It was the black-hat charmer she’d seen before. He was in the exact same pose she was, and staring right back at her. A quick sweep of the crowd revealed his was the only black hat in the bunch.
She smiled at him. He had a lean, chiseled look, and she guessed he was about her age, twenty-eight. He smiled back with a wide, pleased grin. She canted her head, flirting, saying “how-de-do” with her body. He flicked a finger against the front of his hat in a saucy salute. She wanted to meet him.
“All right, boys, who’s next?” came a shout from her left. “I went five point twelve. You do better.” The fallen man settled his hat back on his head and climbed over the fence.
“I’ll go,” Black Hat called out, holding Lauren’s gaze. “I want some pretty blue eyes to see the strength of my thighs.”
Lauren burst out laughing with the rest of the crowd. He had a great drawl.
“She’ll see you flop around maybe,” snorted the man holding the horse.
“Or maybe she’ll see your ass in the dirt,” called the man closing the corral gate.
“She’s got the measure of your ego already,” heckled one woman from the back.
“You laid it on the line now, Sweet Luke. Saddle up.” The man leading the skittish horse slapped his gloves against his thigh to drive the horse into the fenced box.
“Ooooo, Lukey’s called it for a lady. He’ll stick it now!” A younger cowboy crowed from the fence. “C’mon, Motormouth. Show ’em how it’s done!”
Luke of the black hat climbed the fence with an economy that spoke of experience, and sauntered to the fenced in horse. Love-a-duck, he actually had spurs, although they weren’t round and spiky. How adorable. He jammed his hat down lower then looked over his shoulder and winked at her. The crowd cheered and Lauren blew him a kiss.
After that, his demeanor changed, his face closing down, lips thinning, jaw tight. He climbed the chute fence in a rush and settled onto the horse in a way that was both delicate and firm. The horse froze and a shiver passed over its skin. Lauren found her fists clenching the gritty metal in front of her. He twirled the fat rope leash around his hand, nodded once and the man pulled the gate open.
The horse burst from the box like Pegasus. It landed on its front feet and kicked out its back ones in a full extension, then whipped its body sideways and bounced. Lauren gasped, shocked by the violence of the massive equine power. The crowd was wild around her, pressing in, and she didn’t like their avid energy, like they wanted Luke hurt. The beast continued to bounce in a very rabbity sort of way, its tail flicking. Landing on its front hooves again, it angled its backside and lashed out to the side, then swung in the other direction.
Luke had been rocking with the horse the entire time, one hand tight to the leash, the other flinging in the air. His head was down. He was magnificent, the picture of male determination pitted against nature’s spirit. But when the horse turned after the sideways kick, Luke tilted off the spine and she knew it was over. The horse rocked and kicked, but half-heartedly now. As if it knew the end was near.
Luke lost the battle with gravity and fell. The horse raced off, neck proudly arched. The extra rider rode in and boxed it against the fence, lassoing it. Luke was already gaining his feet, dusting off his fine, tight ass. Another cowboy had come in to help, but all he had to do was hand Luke his hat.
The crowd roared, and Lauren threw her hands in the air and clapped, screaming with them. “Woooohooo!”
Luke strode toward her, his face now filled with elation. He was sweaty and grimy but when he reached for her she stood on her tiptoes and leaned over the fence toward him.
“You were incredible!” Aware she was gushing, she didn’t care. Bieber fans had nothing on her. For a second, she actually danced on her toes.
He held his hand out to her, palm up.
Everyone around her still whistled and cheered, pushing and jostling. She flushed, the chosen maiden of the obsidian-eyed warrior.
The tension of the exhibition exploded in her blood. She put her hand in his. It was dry but fiercely hot. He drew it up to his mouth. His lips swept once along the knobbed row of her knuckles, and before she’d even had a chance to inhale over the delicate touch, he pulled away. His eyes had such terrific lashes. His hand was slow to leave her skin, but then he sat his hat back on his head and threw up both his hands in acknowledgment of the crowd.
“Stick around,” he shouted to her as he backed away.
She nodded, heart pounding, licking her lips.
“Sweet Luke strikes again!” warbled the young cowboy.
The crowd laughed and cheered, clapping and whistling.
The man who worked the gate to the starting box strode to the center. “Flying Timber’s saddle bronc demo is concluded. Thanks very much to Cloud Canyon for having us. Anyone who wants to ask us questions or watch the rough stock cool down can come over to the east paddock before we load up. Thanks, folks!” He waved his hat in a whirl, and many in the crowd waved theirs in return.
She needed a hat pronto. It was impossible not to lick her lips several more times while she waited for the crowd to disperse. She’d definitely try to hook up with Sweet Luke.
Following the group of men away from the corral, she was surprised when the announcer, in a buff hat, rounded on Luke, getting right into his face.
“You didn’t mark out. You’re lazy and sloppy and if this was a rodeo, you’d have been DQ’d.”
Luke went rigid. “Bullshit I didn’t mark out. My heels were up there.”
“Your toes were pointed at the sky. How many times have I told you? You’re a fuckin’ duck! They need to be out to the side.”
“My spurs were high enough, Dutch.
Goddamn it, I’m sick of you picking at my form. I went the whole time and Suzy Q threw down a brilliant ride. That would have been a ninety in a show.”
The men, who had quieted around them, guffawed.
Dutch spit to the side. “It was seven seconds, and you never marked out. You’re riding a goddamn bale of hay until you can keep your goddamn heels in the air for fifteen goddamn seconds.” And then he spit again for good measure.
The men fell silent and seemed uneasy at this. The young cowboy who’d been so encouraging of Luke hung his head and scuffed his boot heel. Two of the men shook their heads and strode away. Dutch and Luke continued to glare stiffly at each other, the brims of their hats almost touching.
Finally Luke spun away, shouting, “Bullshit!” He stormed off into the stables.
Dutch glared after him.
Lauren shifted uneasily, hovering a short distance from the group.
The older man turned and pinned her with a look. “He’s bad news. Mind yerself.” He stalked away, calling for the trailer to be brought around.
Propping her hands on her hips, Lauren considered whether she should go after Luke. He was pretty terrific, but his pride had just been bruised. Not a great time for flirtation. Poor guy, to have that argument after feeling triumphant. With a changed mindset, she followed him into the shadows of the long, low building.
There were several stalls and rooms full of complicated leather. She heard a steady stream of foul language, but nothing worse than what she’d hear in Times Square. When she got to the room where it was coming from, she sucked in her breath.
Luke had stripped off his shirt and was bent at the waist. His ass was round and tight, and his back rippled with muscle, a light golden brown. The hose he held over his head doused his shaggy dark hair. Dropping the hose, he turned it off and shook his head, flinging water. He saw her. They repeated the long, sweet look of mutual appreciation they’d shared back at the corral.
“Nice ride.” She let her eyes drift down his smooth chest to the large bronze belt buckle the size of her foot. She couldn’t make out the image on it. His abs were some of the best she’d ever seen, even in Cosmo.
He raised his hand and slicked his hair back, then jammed his hat back on.
“It was,” he said defiantly.
His eyes ran over her with a hot masculinity she found too rare back in New York. Then again, if a guy looked at her like that on Fifth Avenue, she’d rip a blue streak about his parentage. Here it felt natural. Earthy.
“What’s your name, blue eyes?”
“Lauren. And you’re Luke.”
“Yup.” His face got a pinched look and his dark eyes went distant. “I’m still Luke.”
“You’re hurt.” She gestured to his forearm where a wide abrasion dripped blood.
“Nah. It’ll scab up in a few.”
She looked around the large square room and saw a shelf of what looked like medical supplies. She went across the concrete floor with the center drain. “Is there any disinfectant here a person could use?”
He came up next to her, and in the cool of the barn she could feel the heat coming off him. He took down a big bottle. “If you want to help you could make sure it’s clean. Just use this.”
She laughed. “Horses have shampoo?” For some reason, that struck her as funny. “Do they have conditioner too?”
“Sure. For their tails.”
She grinned at him. “I’m revising my idea of just how good cowboys are with hair.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “I can do a mean six-strand braid. With bows.”
She laughed outright and he joined her. He went back to the hose and turned it on.
“You clean it out with a little of that.” He wet his arm, holding it up so she could see the scrape down the outer edge.
She took a small dollop of the shampoo. “It smells like citronella.” Rubbing her hands to lather it up she took hold of his elbow to steady his arm. She brushed the soap over his torn skin. “I remember owies like this from my days playing softball.”
“Owies?”
He smiled at her, and oooh, yeah. She really liked his smile. And his chin. And his chest.
“Rub harder. It’s the infection that’s a bitch, not this.”
She nodded and stepped in close to make sure the cuts were getting clean. She had to pick off a little ripped skin, but it really wasn’t bad. “What about your butt?”
“You can rub that hard too, if you really want.” She flashed a really-now look at him, and he grinned and added, “Ma’am.”
Blushing, which was actually hard to get her to do, she shook her head at him. “I meant, does riding hurt your butt?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll be sore for a day. But if you do saddle bronc right, you stick in the saddle. It’s your shoulders that get really wrenched.”
She gestured. “All done. Rinse.”
“Thanks.”
He poured the water along his skin, and she took his arm in her hands to look at it again.
“Your hands are soft.”
She nodded. “City girl. I like Origins hand cream.”
“Right,” he said, mock solemn. “I’ll get me some.”
She stepped away from him, charmed. “It looks good to me.”
He turned the hose off and hooked one thumb in the front of his jeans. “You look good to me, too. I need to cool off and stay away from Dutch and his crew for a few. Let’s go somewhere.”
She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Where did you have in mind? I just got here.”
“You’re a guest at Cloud Canyon, right?”
“Yup.”
“That means we could go use their sweet hot tub. I do love this ranch’s hot tub.”
Somehow she got the feeling he’d been in the hot tub, with company, a few times before.
He went to the door of the washing room and looked down the stables. Turning back around, he leaned against the doorway. “Or we could go for a ride.” His voice was quieter. “You ever been bareback?”
She licked her lips as all kinds of naughty ideas sprang to mind. “Nope. Never been.” It was true. She’d always used condoms. And saddles.
“What do you feel like, Lauren? You wanna go relax and soak? Or would you like me to take you out for a . . .” He lowered his voice into a purr—“private ride?”
She noticed he assumed she’d want to go with him either way. But since she did, she shed her irritation at his confidence. Walking up to face him, she studied his lean body again, and saw his belt buckle had an ornate rope design on the outer edge, and a picture of a lumpy sort of bull standing in profile. His horns were very pointy.
Reaching out, she traced the large oval with a light finger. Her French manicure looked good. One of Luke’s ideas seemed much more likely to land her in a sexy situation, but her nipples weren’t minding that idea at all. How fast did she want to move here? Riding or hot tub?
“I can’t remember the last time I played.” She grinned.
“Yeah? Well I don’t get many chances to, either.” He took the hat from her and scanned the trees, chose a branch, and hung it up carefully. “What should we play? We could play Hide and Go Seek. What else?”
Her hands covered her mouth in nervous delight. “Chase?”
“Too hot, Fairy.” His eyes went to her tee, where her nipples sat up and shouted hello. “How about dress up?” He unbuckled his big oval belt buckle, and pulled it free in a decisive flex that snapped the leather. “I bet we could have fun with pretend.”
Taking one end of the belt and wrapping it around his fist, he snapped the leather taught. “The Lone Ranger might be near.”
She swallowed. Shook her head. “I always preferred Zorro, myself.”
He grinned, doubled the belt in one grip and strode toward her. She backed up a step. He froze, the
grin wiped away. His eyes followed her gaze to the belt clutched in his fist. He dropped it. “No woman is ever afraid with me.”
She nodded. One hand rested on her throat. “Yes. Sure. Sorry.”
“Look at me.”
She looked. He looked grim and insulted. He strolled over to her and held out one hand. Biting her tongue on a whimper of nerves, she put her hand in his.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to have anyone tonight at this hoedown. But here we are. You still want me?”
She nodded.
“Miss Lauren, I’m sorry you were afraid. Let me tell you something, a little secret ’bout me.” He put a finger under her chin and gently lifted.
She met his gaze and held it, her heart quieting from the instinctive fear that had grabbed her for this big stranger coming at her with a leather strap.
He smiled at her. “My favorite game is Simon Says.” He touched her on the nose. “And you’re Simone.” He gave it a French accent. “And everything you say, I have to do. That’s how we both win.”
She blinked, slow and dazed. Her cowboy was submissive? “You like to follow directions?”
“Oh yeah, Simone, my Fairy Queen.” He gave a lopsided grin. “You okay with this game?”
She cocked her head. She’d never done anything like this. It seemed her confident, muscular, older man took manners to a whole different level. “Yes. I’m okay with this.” In for a penny and all that.
She pointed at the ground. “Can you help me take my boots off?”
He grinned. His hand came up and cupped her breast through her damp shirt. She gasped.
“Any time Simone forgets to phrase her order correctly, Walt gets a bonus move.” His thumb pushed her nipple into her softness.
“Simone says take off my boots.”
He went down on one knee, holding her gaze. Her hands settled on his powerful shoulders easily. He lifted one foot up onto his thigh and then she was free of the dare in his gaze as he bent his head and worked off her boot.
“Simone says socks, too.”
He peeled off her sock with a nod, tucking it in her boot and tossing it aside. They switched feet and soon she was standing ankle deep in ferns, feeling cool earth on her feet.
