Down Home Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

  If that was a subtle way of asking for information about her life, it wasn’t terribly subtle. But he wasn’t wrong. She was more than familiar with that scenario she’d described. With what it was like to lose yourself, and to allow more and more terrible things to happen and to accept them as normal, because you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You didn’t know what you deserved. And you didn’t know what else could possibly be out there for you. Like you had gone too far down a dark tunnel and could never find your way back.

  But she didn’t want to talk to him about that. She didn’t want him to know about her past. It wasn’t relevant to the conversation anyway.

  “I wasn’t exactly an angel during my teenage years,” she said, instead of giving away any secrets about her more recent history. Ancient history was much safer. “My relationship with my parents was difficult. And I did what a lot of teenagers do. I acted out. But I didn’t have anything constructive to occupy my time with. So I found some destructive things instead.”

  “That sounds like...things I don’t want to know about.”

  “Probably. But, you know, the usual things. Cheap beer and... Well, frankly sex is cheap, Cain.”

  She regretted those words the moment they left her mouth, because as soon as she spoke them, she was no longer applying them to teenage her, or to the activities that bored teenagers might get up to. No. Instead, she was thinking about how she might apply them to him. To her and him together. And it was clear from the spark in his eyes that his mind had gone to the exact same place.

  He curled his fingers more tightly around his coffee cup, and she found herself mesmerized by them. They were long, blunt and strong-looking. His hands looked rough from all the physical labor he did, and she wondered how they would feel against her skin.

  The idea was so compelling that she didn’t do anything to stop herself from thinking about it.

  No, she didn’t do anything to stop herself at all.

  “I’m not sure I agree with that,” he said, his voice rough. “Sex seems like something that’s pretty damn expensive to me.”

  She couldn’t quite figure out what he meant by that, and her brain was too fuzzy for her to try. “Well, when I was sixteen and didn’t have a job, it was much more affordable to me than going to the movies.”

  She had been searching for that kind of passion, the kind of connection that she couldn’t find anywhere else in her life. She wasn’t good at school. Certainly not good enough for her parents. They were disappointed in her. Always disappointed, and distant. In fact, getting yelled at by them would have been nice. Because at least then it would have seemed like they cared. So she had been looking for heat, for laughter, for something that felt big and bright.

  At the end of all that, she had found Jared. Then she had found out just what a sad little person she was. How much passion could cost, and just how much she was willing to take in the name of having somebody tell her they loved her.

  That was the saddest part. Realizing that it hadn’t mattered to her if somebody showed it, as long as they would say it. She had gone so many years without hearing it. She had been so damned needy.

  Another reminder that back then, sex had been about trying to solve a feeling of emptiness inside of her. It didn’t feel like that now. That wasn’t what she wanted to do with Cain. It had nothing to do with her emotions at all.

  That was... Well, it was somewhat encouraging, really.

  “I guess it depends,” he said. “I had sex and ended up with a kid.”

  “To be fair you didn’t end up with a kid every time. Unless you’ve only...”

  A slow smile spread over his lips, and she felt a corresponding blush rise in her cheeks. “Oh, no, honey. Don’t you worry about that. I’ve had enough experience to know what I’m doing.”

  Those words sounded like a promise, and they were most certainly a promise she hoped he fulfilled. With her.

  No. It’s too complicated. He’s Violet’s father, and you’re supposed to be helping her.

  But she wanted him. And why did that have to be complicated? He didn’t know about her past. And yes, there was that little issue of the fact that he wasn’t just passing through town, but making a home here for himself and his daughter. But she was in her thirties. It wasn’t like she couldn’t have an affair and then forget about it.

  She didn’t want a relationship, and she had no reason to believe that Cain did either.

  She wanted to say that. To make an offer. To reach out and brush her fingertips over his knuckles. But her arm was heavy, her hand felt like lead. Well, she couldn’t make a move on him here anyway. Because, if anything happened between them, it was going to have to be a secret. She didn’t want an actual relationship, and she didn’t need every well-meaning woman in town giving her the third degree about him, and every man who thought she needed sheltering interrogating Cain about his intentions.

  And she really didn’t want that mess infecting her relationship with Violet.

  Cain needed her help. He had asked for her help. And she was giving it. But she needed a little bit of help too. Help getting out of her sexual dry spell.

  She cringed internally as she replayed her own thoughts. Because it sounded an awful lot like she was considering making some kind of trade for sex. Though, she supposed it wasn’t really any different than the kind of crap she’d gotten up to as a teenager. A guy brought a six-pack of beer out into the woods, and you’d drink it with him, and then give him a blow job. That was just how it worked. Everybody was happy.

  She was giving him the equivalent of a six-pack, the least he could do was give her...

  She imagined that dark head between her thighs, giving her something that no man ever had, and she went warm all over.

  “I suppose I should get back to the bakery,” she said, shoving the last of her scone into her mouth, and taking a gulp of her latte. Her mouth was full of scalding milk, and she winced as she worked to swallow it. It burned all the way down.

  “I’ll walk you back,” he said, taking hold of the plates and busing the table for them, then returning for his coffee cup.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you... For walking me back.”

  They made their way out onto the street, and she could feel his presence behind her. It was so dynamic, so masculine. Until he had come into her life, she would have associated that with danger. For so long, all things masculine had been negative. And only recently was she starting to sort through those connotations. Only recently did she feel less fearful, did she feel like she missed certain things about men.

  Well, physical things, mostly.

  Of course, it helped that she lived in a town full of decent men. Men who were constantly around reminding her that the entire species wasn’t terrible. Sheriff Eli Garrett was one of the best there was, and he and his wife, Sadie, had given her nothing but support right after she’d left Jared.

  Jack Monaghan had been one of her first regular customers, buying more pie than one man could feasibly eat and look like he did.

  So many men, so many people, in the town had all rallied around her, because they knew what she had been through.

  The fact that Cain didn’t know what she had been through made him his own kind of attractive. What would it be like... To have a man look at her, but without pity? To have a man treat her like a woman and not a victim.

  She knew what it was like to have a man make her a victim, and she knew what it was like to be treated like an object. To be treated like a thing.

  On the other end of the spectrum, she knew what it was to be coddled. Most men around town looked at her like they wanted to wrap her in a fuzzy blanket. And then put her down for a nap or something, rather than lie down with her.

  But she wasn’t fragile
. At least, she didn’t want to be fragile anymore. Some of that was because of the town and the people in it, their concern for her. Their insistence on treating her with special care. And some of it was just her. Clinging to the past. Using it as protection to keep herself from more pain.

  Maybe she could let go of the past, if she held on to Cain. Even just for a little while. Actually, it was the perfect solution. Because there were so many reasons that she wouldn’t get caught up in him emotionally. Because of everything he was going through. Because he had a daughter to worry about. Because he was a bitter divorcé, like herself, who probably wanted absolutely nothing to do with the institution of marriage ever again.

  Safeguards. Because as much as she liked to think she wouldn’t need them, it was good to know she could have them.

  And he was... She stopped walking and turned to look at him. She was tempted to call him safe. Except that seemed far too bland a description for a man like Cain.

  Then again, Alison wasn’t one who took safety for granted. Because she knew what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t safe. Still, that term seemed limiting. She didn’t have anything to be afraid of, as far as Cain was concerned. But safe seemed too simple. Also, safe wasn’t exactly what he made her feel when he looked at her with those compelling green eyes. No. She did not feel safe. She felt like she was on fire. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  Mostly, she wanted. Wanted in a way she hadn’t for a long time. Maybe ever.

  It struck her then that this was all part of moving forward. That this was part of that process they called healing, which hurt and agitated, and had rarely been comfortable.

  For the first two years after leaving Jared her entire being had felt like a limb that was being rejuvenated after having the blood flow cut off. Fuzzy at first, numb. And then it had started to hurt. Every new movement forward, every uncertainty.

  For the past couple of years, she had been comfortable. But she supposed that wasn’t enough. She supposed that now she needed to be put back to full use. So to speak.

  “Would you come inside for a second?”

  “Okay,” he said.

  He was looking at her with a strange expression on his face, and it occurred to her then that she had been staring at him for at least thirty seconds without speaking while she parsed all of this in her head.

  “Just for a second,” she said, holding up her hand and pushing the door open. He came inside. There were a few people in the bakery already, most of them drawn in by the trays of fresh croissants to bring to work, or the array of doughnuts. But, for the most part, it was empty. Still, she was going to need a little bit more privacy. “Could you just...”

  She moved to the side, gesturing to the small, walk-in pantry where she kept the large bags of dry goods, for transfer to the kitchen canisters later. She opened the blue door and ducked inside. To his credit, Cain followed without questioning her much. Then she closed the door behind them.

  His dark eyebrows shot up, but otherwise, his expression remained pretty much neutral. And she realized that she had taken a step too far. There wasn’t really an easy way to explain this away. And beyond that, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Maybe that was why she had trapped him in a pantry. Because she had known that it wouldn’t give her an easy out. Because she had known that it would look like exactly what it was.

  “Hi,” she said, backing up against the shelf, her shoulder blades butting up against a bag of flour.

  “Are you taking me on a behind-the-scenes tour?”

  “I’m going to cut to the chase,” she said, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “I’m helping you out, with Violet. And I’m happy to do it. Because I like her and I want to see her succeed in life. But I... I...”

  And for some reason, words failed her then. Maybe because the only words that came to mind were ludicrous. So she decided that she was going to go ahead and dispense with words. Or maybe decided was a bit too strong of a word. Either way, before she fully knew what she was doing, she found herself moving toward him, stretching up on her toes.

  And then, for the first time in four years, Alison’s lips touched another person’s.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CAIN’S MIND WAS a blank. A moment before he had been sipping coffee, and now, he was sipping on Alison’s lips. If it was a bad idea, he certainly wasn’t thinking of that now. He wasn’t thinking of anything at all. Except how damn soft she was. How beautiful. The way her petite curves molded to his body, the way she sighed, like a particularly contented cat, as she melted against him, parting her lips and sliding her tongue against the seam of his mouth.

  He felt like there was a fire in his gut, spreading out through his veins, setting each and every inch of him ablaze. He was so hard it was a physical pain. The instant attraction he had felt for Alison had been nothing. A drop of water in the ocean. And now he was submerged in the whole damn sea.

  He slid his hands down her back, cupping her ass, and he had a feeling he was taking things too far, too fast, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. No, instead he cupped that soft, sweet flesh, grabbing as much of her as he could. Because he was greedy. Greedy for more. For everything.

  It had been a long time, and that was a good excuse for why he had absolutely no control. But it wasn’t the bottom line. Hell no. It was just her. He remembered enough about sex to know that. To know that no matter how good it was, it wasn’t usually like this. Wasn’t usually beyond reason. Wasn’t usually beyond control, and thought, and every other thing that made him a man and not just a raging beast.

  Right about now the only thing that made him a man and not an animal was the fact that he had opposable thumbs. Otherwise? Nothing. He was pure instinct. Pure need. Male. Female. Need. Have.

  He was shaking. Shaking like a damned virgin. Like he was a teenager, not the father of one. And he wanted... Well, he wanted nothing more than to shove her jeans down her generous hips and push himself into her body. To satisfy the raw desire that was coursing through him like floodwater, threatening to consume him, threatening to sweep them away.

  He moved his hands upward, before pushing his fingertips beneath the waistband of her jeans, groaning as he came into contact with bare skin. He half expected her to back off, to break the kiss. But she didn’t. Instead, she arched against him, threading her fingers through his hair as she tasted him even deeper.

  He turned her around, pressed her back against the opposite shelf, reaching up and knocking into a couple of canisters, sending them crashing down to the floor. He gripped the edge of the shelf, uncaring about the mess he had just made. He didn’t care about anything. Not a damn thing except satisfying both of them.

  She was sweet. And being inside of her would be even sweeter. Uncovering all that pale skin. Her breasts. Her...

  He gritted his teeth. He was on the verge of embarrassing himself, and a man of his age and experience should not be having that issue. But damn if she didn’t have him so close to the edge his head was about to blow off.

  It occurred to him then that they were making out in a pantry, in her place of business. But on the heels of that thought came a lightning bolt of pleasure, so intense it about bowled him over when she pushed her hand up beneath his shirt, soft, tentative fingers making contact with his stomach.

  He reached down, grabbing hold of her wrist, curling his fingers around her slender arm and drawing it up over her head, pressing it back against the shelf. He rocked forward, letting her feel the evidence of his desire for her.

  She gasped, wrenching her lips away from his, her golden eyes wide. He thought for a moment that she was uncomfortable. That she would want to stop. But instead, she screwed her eyes shut again and moved forward, pressing her lips to his again.

  She rolled her hips forward, answering that blatant invitation he had made when he had pressed his hardness agai
nst her.

  Then his phone started to buzz in his pocket. He wanted to ignore it. He wanted to take it out of his pocket and throw it across the small space. No, he wanted to take it out of his pocket and crush it in his hand for daring to interrupt the most action he’d had in years.

  But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he broke the kiss, taking his phone out and looking at the screen. It was Violet. Of course it was Violet.

  It didn’t escape his notice that last night he had interrupted her make-out session and now she was interrupting his. But he was a damned adult, and he was entitled to his.

  “I have to take this,” he said.

  Alison nodded wordlessly, shrinking back from him.

  “Hello?”

  “Dad,” came the sound of his daughter’s croaky voice. “I’m sick.”

  He bit back a growl, his lingering irritation nd arousal warring with concern. He knew exactly what kind of sick Violet was. “You’re hungover.”

  “Are you working? Come inside and help me.”

  No. He wasn’t working. He was with a woman. For the first time in so long. And he couldn’t tell her that. He also couldn’t deny his daughter for the sake of continuing a secret make-out session in a closet.

  Because he wasn’t a teenager. Even if for a moment he’d felt like one.

  “I’ll be home soon,” he said, hanging up. She would be mad at him for not saying goodbye. But he was still mad at her. Not just for last night, but now for this.

  “Do you have to go?”

  Alison’s eyes were bright, her lips pink and swollen and he wanted so badly to kiss her again. To keep the whole world firmly on the other side of the pantry door. But he couldn’t. Dammit. He couldn’t.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Anyway. It’s probably for the best.”

  Alison shook her head, a curl tumbling down from the top of her head, falling into her face. “I don’t think it is. What I was trying to say before is... We’re both busy. We’re both in difficult places in our lives. You asked me to help you out with Violet, and I’d like to do that. But...well, I’m very attracted to you. And I would really like it if you could help me out with that.”