Loving That Cowboy

by Victoria Chatham

  She murmured a protest but didn’t wake as he tugged off her boots. He pulled the comforter up around her and dimmed the bedside light, not wanting her to be scared if she woke up and didn’t know where the hell she was. He leaned against the carved post at the end of the bed, finally admitting what had been bugging him all day.

  Of all the girls he had dated over the years, the girls he’d loved and left with no hard feelings or regrets, this girl was different. Maybe it was her green eyes or the flash of auburn in her dark brown hair. Maybe it was her long, lean body and the knowledge that it would fit with his. Damn, but everything about her struck him as right. Maybe that was why he wanted to sooth away all the fears he sensed she harbored.

  Common sense hit him square in the face. She knew nothing about ranching and came from a totally different world than his. If that wasn’t a recipe for disaster he didn’t know what was.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face.

  Whichever way he looked at it, he couldn’t make sense of it. For whatever reason Trisha Watts had come into his life, for now she was in his bed.

  Alone.

  Chapter Five

  The sky could not have been bluer or provided such a perfect backdrop ...

  Her eyes flew open but she couldn’t see anything. Where was she? Where was Del? She grabbed for his mane but instead of tightly bound braids her fingers connected with a soft, downy comforter. What the heck? She pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around in panic.

  She was in a bedroom, but whose bedroom? And where was it? Grabbing the edge of the comforter and pulling it around her, she scooted back to cower against the head of the bed. She covered her face with her hands, moaning softly behind them. She peered through her fingers as she felt the edge of the bed dip as someone sat down. Who was that guy? He wasn’t Tony.

  “Where’s Tony?” she demanded.

  Cameron caught her hands. “Sweetheart, who’s Tony?”

  “Tony’s my, my ...”

  Cameron watched her panic morph into confusion then awareness as her breathing slowed. She closed her eyes and covered her face again, shaking her head.

  “Hey, come here.” Cameron took her into his arms and held her close, stroking her back and allowing her time to fully wake up, gently rocking her as she clung to him.

  He’d bunked on a couch in the family room last night but, unable to sleep, he’d run over their day together. By every indication, from instinctively knowing where best to scratch Jack to her deep natural seat, she had to be an experienced horsewoman. Samantha had alluded to the fact that Trisha hadn’t ridden a horse in a while. What was the reason for that? Why had she admitted to riding other animals but not horses?

  He’d heard her muttering in the night and padded quietly on bare feet through to the bedroom, watching her as she slept. Whatever she dreamt about made her draw her brows together in a deep frown. Her head had moved restlessly on the pillow, her fingers flickered and twitched, and then, with a deep sigh, she’d settled into a deeper level of sleep. He’d let his gaze roam over her slight shape before he’d gone back to the couch. He couldn’t let whatever affected her bother him, but that was getting harder and harder to do.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I sometimes have nightmares.”

  “I guess.” He continued to hold her, listening to her breathing steady into its regular rhythm and sensed when she was ready to pull away from him. Reluctant to let her go, he watched her throw back the comforter and swing her legs off the bed. She stood up and looked down at her crumpled clothes.

  “God, I wish I had something clean.” Her shirt had horse slobber down the front of it and her jeans were truly grubby. She swiped her hands over the wrinkles.

  “Best I can offer is laundry facilities if you’d like,” Cameron said.

  “Perhaps I could shower and then wash my clothes?” she suggested.

  “Make yourself at home.” He reached into a closet, pulled out a black robe and handed it to her.

  Trisha took it and held it close as if she were holding a part of him as he walked away. She followed him as far as the bedroom door then watched as he continued along the short, wood panelled hallway to the main part of the house. Coming or going she had to admit the man was impressive. She held the robe up to her face, surreptitiously inhaling the residual scent of his body, his soap and cologne in the fabric.

  Oh, joy! What a way to start her day. Waking up in his bed on the tail end of a nightmare, now about to get naked and shower, drown herself in his robe, and then wash her clothes. How domestic was that?

  She didn’t care about him seeing her soiled shirt and jeans. But her underwear? Did she really want him to see the burgundy satin thong and the matching lace bra that she didn’t need to wear? Was she going to risk the intimacy of her bare skin snuggling under the cozy fabric of his robe?

  It came down to that or clean clothes. Sniffing suspiciously at her shirt she made a quick decision. He could show her where the washer and dryer were and she’d do everything herself. No need for him to see anything.

  She marched into the bathroom and quickly stripped off, showered and washed her hair with a lemon-scented shampoo, then shrugged into the robe which enveloped her. Its hem pooled on the floor about her feet. Wry amusement bubbled up inside her when she caught sight of herself in the mirror and a reluctant chuckle escaped from her lips.

  “Want to share the joke?” Cameron’s voice drifted through the bathroom door.

  Trisha folded the robe around her body and tied the sash firmly around her waist to prevent any bare skin from showing. From the looks he’d sent her way he might be tempted to unwrap her like a Christmas present. She bundled up her laundry and opened the door.

  “I look like one of the seven dwarfs.” She indicated the fabric dragging on the floor.

  “None of them ever looked that good.” Cameron grinned appreciatively at her. “Here, I’ll take those for you.”

  Trisha hung on to the bundle of clothes and refused his offer. “No, you’ve been kind enough as it is. Just show me the way to the washer.”

  “Right this way, ma’am.”

  The twinkle in his eyes set Trisha’s heart thumping. Would he still be as kind if her last nerve unravelled and she told him what she had done? She trailed him across the kitchen and through the door at the back of it.

  “This is the garage, but the utility room’s right here.”

  Trisha looked around in amazement at the expanse of floor and the high ceiling. “This isn’t a garage, it’s a parking lot.”

  Cameron laughed. “I do most of my own vehicle maintenance, so I need some place to do it. This is it. Here, let me show you the programs.”

  The sight of the space-age appliances arrayed against the wall made her take a second look.

  “Where did you win the price of these?” The question came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She hoped he didn’t think her rude.

  He pursed his lips thoughtfully as he considered her query. “These were after Las Vegas two years ago. I brought them back in the trailer tucked in beside Anchorman and a couple of other horses.”

  “Who looks after things for you when you’re away?”

  “That would be my neighbour, George. If you hang around here long enough you’ll get to meet him.”

  With Cameron’s help she selected a cold water wash for a small load and quickly placed her clothes in the machine.

  “That’s about a twenty minute wash,” he told her. “Plenty of time for coffee and breakfast too, if you want anything to eat.”

  “I should phone Samantha first.” Guilt that she’d been enjoying Cameron’s tempting company far too much crept into her consciousness. She would have to be careful. “She’ll probably be worrying where I am.” Trisha paused and for a moment looked puzzled. “Um, where exactly am I?”

  Cameron chuckled. “Just tell her you’re with me at Coyle Creek. The phone’s in my office there, off the hallway.”

  Trisha h
adn’t noticed the cunningly fitted pocket door before, but now slid it open and stepped inside. Western art and framed photographs of Cameron on and off horses, in mid-flight between horse and steer and behind the wheel of a tractor, hung on the walls. Floor to ceiling shelves were stacked with books and neatly labelled organizer boxes. The desk top sported piles of paperwork, a double banker’s lamp, a large calendar pad with a pen beside it and the phone. Moving behind the desk she sank into a deep leather chair before realizing she didn’t have Samantha’s number.

  Cameron followed her to the office, his large frame filling the doorway.

  “You might need this.” He handed her Samantha’s business card.

  Trisha took it and turned it in her fingers. “You must have read my mind.”

  She said thank you and smiled at him but his awareness disconcerted her. If he could determine her need for a telephone number so easily, what else might he pick up on? Not really comfortable with that possibility but intrigued by it, she reached for the phone.

  She knew Samantha would probably rage indignantly at being abandoned but Trisha put the call through anyway. Before she could say more than hello, Samantha wanted to know exactly what had happened but then became blatant in her admonishments to steer clear of cowboys, especially the good looking variety.

  “And don’t let him kiss you.”

  Did the kiss Cameron dropped on her head yesterday, the one that could have been a dream, count? Probably not, at least not in the way Samantha meant. She laughed as she hung up and returned to the kitchen.

  “Apparently I have to be back in town this evening for Sneak-a-Peek, whatever that is.”

  “That’s the opening night of Stampede.” Cameron juggled pans on the stove top then slid a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and pancakes across the island for her. “The midway’s open if you like rides and side shows and don’t even think about calories when you get a bag of deep fried mini-donuts.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Trisha sprinkled fresh ground pepper on her eggs and helped herself to ketchup. “I imagine it will be noisy.”

  “Uh-huh. Can be.” Cameron sat down beside her. “The Parade is on Friday morning and then the show really gets going with the rodeo in the afternoon.”

  “That means you’ll be busy.”

  Did he detect a wistful tone in her voice? Cameron slid a sideways glance her way, but she avoided his eyes and concentrated on the food on her plate.

  “Only during the day. Once the rodeo’s over, my evenings are usually free and if I’m lucky I’ll get a by-day. We could come out here if you’d like to go riding again.”

  “What’s a by-day?”

  Disappointed at the slick way she’d avoided his invitation, Cameron stifled a sigh. What was he thinking anyway? She was here for a few days and then would go back to her life in London, or wherever she lived. He cleared his throat.

  “It means I’ve scored enough points that I can miss a go-round without penalty.”

  A loud buzzing sound indicated the end of the wash cycle and Cameron slid off his stool and left the kitchen.

  Trisha almost choked on the fluffiest scrambled eggs she’d ever tasted, threw down her fork and grabbed the voluminous folds of Cameron’s robe up around her ankles. She scurried after him but was too late to stop him placing her underwear in the dryer. Her cheeks burned as she saw the grin on his face.

  “I could have done that,” she insisted.

  “My pleasure.” Cameron’s wicked grin widened. “I mean, it really is my pleasure. It’ll all be dry in no time.”

  Trisha lifted her chin and spun around to return to the kitchen. She caught her heel on the hem of the robe and stumbled, swearing under her breath when she heard him chuckle. Back in the kitchen she hitched herself up on her stool and finished her breakfast, her mind tumbling as fast as the drier. She must be in the middle of a dream. Most men she knew were as transient as herself, not owning a stick of anything, knowing the way to the closest launderette like the backs of their hands and eating at pubs and greasy spoons. This man built his own house, did laundry and cooked. Why did he take so much pride in that?

  Apart from the steak she’d had last night, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually enjoyed her food so took her time eating her meal, savoring every mouthful.

  “Where did you learn to make eggs like this?”

  “Mom,” he said. “She was a great cook.”

  Trisha sipped on her coffee. “Was?”

  Cameron let out a long sigh. The pain in that sigh hit her and she wished she’d not asked.

  “Ten years ago mom and dad took a trip to Reno. First vacation they’d had since they got married. It’d been a long time since Dad had driven any distance. We’re not sure, but it’s likely he fell asleep at the wheel. They hit the ditch and that was it.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Instinctively wanting to empathize with him, Trisha reached out and covered his hand with her own. She understood only too well that accidents happened. “That must have been hard. But you said ‘we’. You have siblings?”

  Cameron turned his hand over and without looking at her gripped fingers and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “A younger brother, Mackenzie.”

  The thinning of his lips told their own story. No doubt there that bad blood existed between them. She should leave it alone but her curiosity got the better of her. “You don’t get on with him?”

  “You could say that.”

  Another buzzer sounded and a boyish grin swept away anything else he might have said. “That’s for you. Your clothes should be dry.”

  “I’ll get them, thank you all the same.” Head high, Trisha once more gathered up the robe and went to retrieve her clothes.

  * * *

  “So?” Samantha waggled her eyebrows suggestively as Trisha walked into the office.

  “So what?” Trisha shrugged a shoulder. “You were the one who told me to steer clear of good looking cowboys and not let them kiss me so there’s nothing to tell.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not getting off that lightly.” Samantha cuffed the shoulder Trisha so carelessly shrugged. “You disappear on me with that gorgeous sample of manhood, spend the night with him in some remote location and give me a ‘so what’? That tells me you’re trying to shut the stable door after the horse has bolted. Not good enough, my friend. I need to live vicariously. Try again.”

  Trisha sat down in one of the chairs by Samantha’s desk and tipped her head back. “Went horseback riding. Saw a cougar. Cameron took me to supper and dancing, then I went to sleep and he put me to bed. Woke up. Showered, had breakfast while my clothes were in the washer ...”

  “Hah!” Samantha pointed a French manicured finger at her. “So you were naked.”

  “Beneath the robe he provided me with, yes.”

  “That’s it?” Samantha sounded aggrieved. “When are you seeing him again?”

  Trisha hesitated. She hadn’t wanted to part from Cameron at all. He’d lifted her down from his truck in the alley out back of Samantha’s office block and held her so long she was sure he was going to kiss her. But then an impatient delivery truck driver honked his horn because Cameron’s Ford blocked his way. Cameron waved at the driver to wait, fished a cell phone out of his dashboard cubby and handed it to her.

  “This is my back up phone. My number’s the only number listed on it,” he’d said. “Call me. We’ll go out Saturday night.”

  The hard shape of the phone in her jeans pocket pressed against her thigh. Her heart lightened. He wanted to be sure she could contact him and must have assumed she didn’t have a phone. She looked for the bag containing her own phone, her passport, lip gloss and other essentials dumped two days ago. She retrieved it with relief then looked at Samantha.

  “Saturday,” she said. “Unless there’s anything else we have to do or place we have to be.”

  “Ah, yes,” Samantha began. “Actually, I meant to have a word with you.”

  Trisha didn’t like the sil
ence that followed Samantha’s hesitant utterance.

  “Samantha, what have you done?”

  “Well, you were coming to Calgary anyway.” Samantha played with a pen on her desk and avoided Trisha’s eyes. “And you’re a damn good photographer. Who better than you to put faces with photos and talk about the best qualities you see in them? So I sort of told my client you’d introduce the models for her publishing house’s book cover competition at their gala evening.”

  “You did what?” Trisha glared at Samantha. “How could you? You said you wanted me to help pick photos for your agency, and now you want me to help host a gala evening?”

  “I know, sweetie, I know, but it really won’t take up much of your time. There’s a reception dinner on Friday night at the Palliser Hotel. Anyway, you’d be taking time to eat somewhere for goodness sake, and you can’t deny that I promised you cowboys. Hot cowboys.”

  Trisha shook her head in disbelief. “I really cannot believe you did that. Talk about dropping me in the deep end. And what’s this competition for again?”

  “Purple Plain publishes western romance novels and they’re looking for new cover models. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind too much.” Samantha shrugged her shoulders and didn’t look at all sorry. “And you do owe me a favor for introducing you as the best new photog on the block to that big shot Hollywood actor. Didn’t you get an invite to visit with him and his family at their private lake property in Quebec?”

  On a very deep level Trisha had somehow known that favor would come back at her one day. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. The introduction had netted a feature for a classy international news magazine and a yet-to-be-acted upon invitation to visit the celeb family ranch in Montana. “So what exactly have you told your client I will do?”