Loving That Cowboy

by Victoria Chatham

  He could be open for anything if she continued to chew her lip like that.

  “Sorry we were late.” Her blush deepened. “Punctuality isn’t exactly one of Samantha’s finer points.”

  “Well, you’re here now and that’s what matters seeing as it’s you who wants the wild-west experience.”

  “Yes, about that.” Trisha hesitated. “You really shouldn’t go to any trouble on my behalf.”

  “Where I’m going to take you is no trouble at all, if you’re still interested.”

  “It would appear I don’t have much of a choice, Mr. Carter.”

  Her bluntness caught him off guard but he guided her round to the passenger side of his truck anyway.

  “If we’re to spend the day together, please call me Cameron.”

  Holding the door open for her, he caught a hint of her perfume as she clambered into the cab, fresh and sweet like the lilacs his mother once favored. Her fingers fumbled with the safety belt and he noticed how much they trembled. Not a good sign. He reached in and helped her fasten the buckle. He didn’t want her to do anything that made her uncomfortable, but nor did he want to forego the pleasure of getting to know her. Sliding into his seat, he hardly dared believe she actually sat beside him and the truck hadn’t yet moved an inch. He stared straight ahead as he fired up the engine, even though all he wanted was to sit and look at her. Darn it, what state would he be in after an hour or so of being at such close quarters with her?

  “Where are we going?” Trisha asked once they were on the highway.

  “Just a little place I know where there’s a friendly horse or two and an easy trail.”

  “Really friendly?”

  He heard the scepticism in her voice and knowing that she watched him, nodded his head.

  “Absolutely. You’ll get on just fine with Jack,” Cameron assured her. “If you don`t want to ride him, you don`t have to.”

  “You`ll probably think me silly.”

  “Nah. I heard you were from London and I’d probably balk at riding on one of your tube trains.”

  “That news travelled fast.” Trisha pulled a face. “Hardly surprising, I suppose. And yes, the tube is an experience that’s for sure. But you’d have to remove your hat.”

  “Oh no, not that.” He grinned at her. “The hat stays put except for dinner and church.”

  It pleased him to see her mouth relax into something close to a smile and they drove on in almost comfortable silence.

  Once they’d left the city limits behind them, Trisha watched the countryside roll by, one mile after another. Where she expected to see open grassland she saw softly swelling hills. The shoulder of one folded gently into another as they gradually rose to the serrated outline of the distant Rocky Mountains.

  “I thought it would be flat.” She waved an expressive hand at the scenery.

  Cameron laughed. “You want flat, you go east onto the prairies. This is foothills country. Good grass, good water, good tree cover. You couldn’t ask for better.”

  Just as she had a childlike urge to ask ‘are we there yet’, Cameron turned in at a freshly painted white gateway. The truck rattled over a metal grid and Trisha clenched her teeth. Trees shaded one side of the driveway while a neat corral fence lined the other. Ahead of them a barn stood off to one side but it was the jaw-dropping single-storey log house beyond it that caught her attention.

  It could have come right out of a glossy home magazine. She immediately pictured curls of smoke rising from the chimney jutting out of one end of the roof. A fishbowl window above the solid entrance door shattered that cozy thought, as it gave the impression of keeping a wary eye on visitors. Large windows along the front of the house were shaded by the deep wrap-around veranda.

  As soon as Cameron parked in front of the house two dogs came running from the shelter of the surrounding trees. He got out of the truck and Trisha watched him stroke their heads and gently fondle their ears.

  This couldn’t be the same guy she saw yesterday. That guy came across as a flippant jerk, but then she remembered the tenderness she’d sensed in his touch when they’d met again in the store. Her heart almost skipped a beat at the thought.

  He pushed the dogs out of his way as he came casually around in front of the vehicle, as if not wanting to appear too eager to help her. What happened to the guy who brushed her off at the baggage carousel? Without thinking she twisted in her seat and put her hands on his shoulders but avoided looking at him. He settled his grip just above her waist.

  Trisha took a deep breath as she let him lift her down. The warm pressure of his hands on her sides reassured her, but was it just coincidence that his thumbs were close to the underside of her breasts? A shiver of pleasant anticipation raised the small hairs on the back of her neck but as soon as her feet hit the ground, he let her go.

  “Don’t worry, they’re friendly.” Cameron gestured to the dogs, still bouncing around them. “This hound is Groucho and the blue heeler is Busby.”

  Trisha petted them as they nosed around her.

  “Groucho, Busby, go lie down.” Cameron pointed at the veranda. Both dogs trotted up the steps into the shade where they both lay down as commanded. Satisfied, Cameron turned to her. “This is your day, Trisha, so what would you like to do first?” His deep voice rumbled in her ears. “Meet the horses? Come in to the house and have a coffee?”

  Trisha looked around her. Had she taken leave of her senses? The only other vehicle in sight was a battered old pickup truck parked beside the barn, a square bale of hay and a few planks of wood visible in its bed. She was alone in a remote location with a very large man whom she’d only met for a few moments the previous day. She hadn’t even called Samantha to let her know they were leaving town.

  And where exactly was she? She hadn’t checked the time when they left, so had no idea how long the trip had been. An hour? Two? She cut a quick glance in Cameron’s direction. That he waited patiently for her to make a decision showed the kind of consideration she barely gave herself, let alone expected from someone she’d just met.

  Taking a deep breath in readiness to answer him, her nose detected a difference in the cologne to that he’d worn yesterday. Then a refreshingly light citrus spiked with an undertone of pepper had assailed her nostrils but today she detected the woodsy aromas of cedar and sandalwood. Whatever those fine tendrils of fragrance might be, she liked it a bit too much and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but close to him. No, she had nothing to fear from him she decided, only her treacherous self.

  “A coffee would be nice,” she murmured, still looking around. Cameron had mentioned horses, but there were none in the corral. Maybe they were in the barn.

  “This way.” He headed up the shallow veranda steps and opened the front door.

  Trisha followed right behind him into a room brightened by sunlight. It flooded through the fishbowl window and warmed the stone tiled floor inside the door. Brightly patterned scatter rugs added a splash of color. A fireplace filled with ready-to-light logs, sat in a floor-to-ceiling river-stone chimney. A leather sofa, the color of old tobacco, faced the fireplace with matching chairs either side of it. If they were as comfortable as they looked, she’d never want to get out of them. Even the dining area looked comfortable with its solid looking oak table surrounded by ladder back chairs.

  A great deal of care and consideration had gone in to creating an appearance of a homey ambiance yet the undisturbed air hung still and empty, as if it waited for a family to stir it up a little. She imagined the black granite counter tops littered with empty mugs and a vase of flowers on the end of the sturdy island bar.

  “Is this your house?”

  “It is.”

  Trisha didn’t miss the pride in his voice or his smug smile as he invited her to take a seat. She boosted herself up on to a leather-upholstered bar stool at the island unit while Cameron measured coffee into the machine.

  “It’s very well designed.” A quick survey of the kitchen told her
the stainless steel appliances were all top quality.

  “Thank you.” Cameron collected mugs, cream and sugar and put them down in front of her. “It took a while. I worked on it when I had time but I’m happy with the result.”

  “You built it? On your own?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she cringed at her own crassness. Of one thing she was already sure; this man could and would do anything he put his mind to.

  “Mostly.” Cameron hitched his hip onto the stool beside her. “Cut and seasoned the timber when I first bought the place and lived out of a trailer parked where the barn now is. Then I just worked on what I really wanted, picked the trades I needed and it all came together in its own good time.”

  She had a sudden image of him stripped to the waist, muscles flexing as he hammered nails into a log, his skin slicked with sweat and glistening in the sunshine. She smothered a sigh and pictured instead the house coming together, piece by piece, and understood his pride.

  “I’ve never had my own home,” she said. She hoped he missed the wistfulness she heard in her voice.

  “Never?” Cameron raised a questioning eyebrow at her as he poured their coffee.

  “Never. It would tie me down too much.” Trisha slowly stirred cream into her mug, not sure how much to tell him, not sure how much he might understand of what her work entailed. “In between assignments I either crash with friends or go home to my parents. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

  “Not if that’s what works for you. Do you enjoy what you do?”

  His question leached into her brain. Did she? The jury was still out on that one. Photography had become a profitable substitute for a career that still sent her senses into overdrive when she thought of it. She missed the power and precision of her previous life, but there were too many risks involved, risks to life and limb and not only hers.

  “It’s been great,” she said quickly, then caught herself and closed her mouth before she could reveal anything more. Had he noticed her use of the past tense? She lapsed into silence, startled by the direction her thoughts had taken her. Going back to what had been more a way of life than a career was not a good idea.

  “Having a change of heart? Thinking about another career maybe?”

  “Maybe.” Trisha drew in her breath at Cameron’s teasing tone and teased right back, “Maybe I’ll become a cowgirl.”

  He laughed out loud at that. “A cowgirl who’s ridden a camel and an elephant. Right.”

  “Don’t forget the donkey.” Trisha set the now empty coffee mug down, laid her palms on the edge of the island top and pushed herself up. “I’m ready for you to introduce me to Jack now. Maybe it’s time to start my career change.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Not trusting herself to give him a sensible answer, she nodded her head. He took hold of her hand as if it were the most natural thing to do and the shock of it zinged up her arm. The smile he gave her confirmed she must be in some alternate world. Why was he being so nice? Was he trying to make up for yesterday? And really, did he have to? If she were truthful, her dislike of flying had turned her into something of a snark.

  As they entered the cool, dim interior of the barn she wrinkled her nose at the familiar sweet smell of hay and warm aroma of horses. Cameron still held her hand, nor did she want him to let it go. The first few stalls on the left of the wide aisle were stacked with bales of hay and bags of wood shavings. To her right, saddles sat on wooden frames. Bridles, halters and other equipment whose purpose she could only guess at, hung from hooks on the wall. An ATV sat in the centre of what appeared to be a wash stall.

  Attracted by the sound of their boots on the concrete floor, two horses looked out over their stall doors. They both nickered a soft welcome and Cameron said hello to both of them. He loosened his grip on her hand and smoothed the sleek brown neck of the horse closest to him.

  “This is Anchorman. He’s my top performer right now.”

  Across the aisle the other horse banged the side of the stall with an impatient hoof and tossed his head.

  “Okay, Jack, quit making such a racket. I’m coming.” Cameron clipped a rope to the horse’s halter, opened the door and led him out.

  “Trisha Watts, meet Jack.” The horse nuzzled him as he spoke, then turned its head and sniffed Trisha’s hand. “Jack’s an old stager. He was the first horse I bought and trained myself and he’s rock solid.”

  Trisha slid her hand along the horse’s silky copper-colored neck and chuckled as Jack’s rubbery lips plucked her sleeve. His gentleness encouraged her to run her fingers down the velvet softness of his white muzzle. She scratched him gently under his chin and Jack gave a soft sigh and dropped his head. His pleasure at this attention showed in his droopy lower lip and half closed eyes, all the signs of a relaxed and happy horse.

  Cameron left them and headed towards the tack room. Trisha hadn’t missed the puzzled frown on his face. She’d tried to give him the impression that she wasn’t into horses or riding. Then she’d forgotten herself when she deftly found the sweet spot beneath Jack’s chin. She knew Cameron had recognized that familiarity and hadn’t expected it. If he glanced back over his shoulder now he’d see her talking softly to the horse and gently pulling one of its ears.

  When he returned with the tack, Trisha stepped back to give him room to work. She watched him place a thick padded blanket on Jack’s back then top it with the saddle.

  “That looks heavy,” she said.

  “It has to be,” Cameron explained as he hooked the stirrup onto the horn and reached under Jack’s belly for the cinch. “Average weight for a roping saddle, which this is, is forty to fifty pounds. Not like those itty-bitty English saddles you’re probably more familiar with. Shall we go?”

  Trisha gave him a brief nod of agreement. Jack’s hooves rang on the hard surface of the barn floor but changed into a soft shuffle in the dust as they walked out into the sunshine. Cameron said nothing as they continued towards the corral. With each step they took Trisha tensed. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to get back on a horse?

  “We’ll start in the round pen.”

  Trisha looked at the arrangement of fence panels Cameron indicated. She opened the gate for him and stood to one side so he and Jack could enter. She heard the slap and creak of leather as Cameron dropped the reins, adjusted the saddle and tightened the cinch.

  She stood quite still. The warm breeze played across her face and teased the hair on the back of her neck. Jack dropped his hip and rested a hind hoof. His tail swished across his hind leg and the bug he dislodged flew up and into her face. Brushing it away she became aware that Cameron watched her and lifted her eyes to his.

  For a blink of time their gazes caught and held. She knew her cheeks to be pale, knew her features to be rigid with tension. She expected to see censure in his expression, disappointment at her feebleness but there was none. A muscle twitched in her jaw as she gritted her teeth.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly.

  Her clenched fists rested against her thighs. “Then I’d have to admit to Samantha that I chickened out. No thank you.”

  “Okay, Trisha, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” She couldn’t help snapping at him. Why did he have to be so damn understanding? “Let’s get on with it.”

  Trisha saw his mouth settle into a thin line at her sharp retort and was immediately sorry for it. He’d been finagled into giving her a unique western experience. At the very least she could try to appreciate it. She gave herself a mental shake and looked up at the sound of his voice.

  “I want you to hold the saddle horn with your left hand, the back of the saddle with your right hand. Then you’re going to put your left foot into the stirrup and boost yourself up off your right foot and swing that leg clear over the saddle. Got that?”

  She took a step closer to Jack, fighting the tremors that threatened to engulf her. She closed her eyes. Breathe in, breathe out, she told hers
elf.

  You are getting on a horse for the first time in two years and nothing more than just sitting on it is expected of you.

  Cameron held the big box stirrup for her. She looked at it as if it was the head of a snake with its fangs about to sink into her booted foot, but she shook the image away. Settling the toe of her boot right where it should be, she swallowed her fear and swung into the saddle.

  For once she was able to look down at Cameron. Doubt lurked in the expression in his eyes. She couldn’t blame him for that. Samantha’s insistence that he find her a dude ranch did neither of them any favors. An overwhelming urge to touch him, to commiserate with him, didn’t help her confusion. Just where had that come from anyway?

  Her fingers came alive where he touched them as he showed her how to hold the split reins. His hand warmed her knee where he steadied her as he walked with Jack around the pen. A sensation of being cast adrift washed over her when he let her go.

  “Just give him a nudge with your heels to keep him moving,” he called out to her. “We might make a cowgirl of you yet. Keep him going.”

  After watching her for a few more moments, Cameron turned and headed back to the barn. Trisha watched him walk away, her insides turning to mush at the sight of his broad shoulders, the twitch of his hips and the shape of his long legs. If she couldn’t keep her eyes off him now this was going to be one doozey of a day.

  “What the hell am I going to do, Jack?” The horse snorted and shook his head, making his bit jingle. She managed a shaky laugh and patted his neck. “You’re no help at all, buddy.”

  Jack continued to plod around the pen and Trisha found herself more comfortable with every step he took. Gradually relaxing into the saddle, she didn’t notice Cameron riding up until she heard the gate rattle.

  He sat the brown horse as easily as if he’d been born there, looking so good her mouth watered. He reached over and swung the gate open, holding it for her as she guided Jack through it.