A Cowboy Summer (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Salonen, Debra

  Will snickered softly. “Yep. Devil’s Advocate. Tough and tricky. I don’t think he’s been ridden yet.”

  The man cleared his throat. “Well, as a matter of fact, we caught a PBR event in Odessa on our way here. One of the new fellows rode that bad boy for a 94.5, I believe.”

  Will felt a punch in his gut—the kind he got every time he picked up a copy of ProBullRider magazine and read the latest stats. Life went on in the bull-riding arena. Either you were in the money or you were history. “That’s good to hear,” he said with fake enthusiasm. “Means I can try for a bigger score next time around.”

  After a little more chitchat, Will continued toward the house. A silvery-blue light flickered in the windows of Anne’s room. Was she watching television?

  He paused outside her door to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead. It was a warm night, but not that hot. He’d ridden with a cracked wrist and had felt less trepidation than he did at this moment. What’s the big deal? he asked himself. We’re adults. Single. Responsible.

  He rapped softly. The chatter from the television went silent. A second later, the door opened. Anne was dressed in lounging shorts and a loose yellow tank top. She looked cool and relaxed; he felt overdressed and uptight.

  Her gaze dropped to his boots. “You’re all dressed up.”

  “Cowboy uniform. Force of habit.”

  She smiled. “I know what you mean. It’s taken me two months to wean myself from panty hose.” She stepped back to welcome him. “Come in. I was just watching you on television.”

  He froze. “Pardon?”

  “This afternoon when I was looking for the video camera, I ran across some tapes marked Will Bull Riding.” She held up the remote control. “It took me a couple of tries to figure out the chronology. Mom was never very good about labeling things.”

  Will chuckled. “Like Zoey’s present?”

  Anne groaned. “Don’t remind me. I should have peeked under the wrapping paper before I brought that gift downstairs.”

  Zoey had pounced on the gaily wrapped gift from her grandmother, but the whole party had gone silent when she pulled a sexy black negligee out of the box. Anne had turned three shades of red and immediately raced back upstairs to find the real present.

  Will couldn’t resist teasing Anne, who looked mortified just recalling the incident. “I was kinda hoping that negligee might reappear tonight.”

  Anne cocked her head and said, “Well, we’ll have to see about that. First, I need you to narrate this video. Tell me who the other people are and what’s going on, and—most importantly—why the heck anyone would start riding bulls in the first place.”

  Will rolled his eyes. “People ask me that all the time. I usually turn the question back on them and ask how they got involved in their job. Why did you pick a job that doesn’t even give you a day off to enjoy your daughter’s birthday?”

  She took a breath, which made him all too aware of the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her loose shirt. Her shorts were the kind that could be worn to bed—extra short, with an elastic waist. Way too easy to take off.

  “You know what? You’re right. There was no excuse for what happened today. And I plan to make that clear to my boss the next time he calls.” She pretended to consult her nonexistent wristwatch. “Which, knowing Roger, will probably be in six hours. He seems to have no concept of the time difference between here and the East Coast.”

  Will liked her best when she lost her defensive posture. He closed the door, listening for the satisfying click of the lock. “Why do you put up with it?”

  Anne shrugged. “Why do you put up with broken bones?”

  “Because it comes with the territory?”

  She nodded. “Exactly. Roger is like a rank bull—see how I picked up the lingo? But if you ever tell him I said that I’ll have to hurt you.”

  He chuckled as he walked to the foot of the bed. “I’ll remember that.” Facing the television, he asked, “So, where are you? My early, early years, huh? Your mother and I watched this video last November when I was here for Thanksgiving. She was feeling nostalgic, she said.”

  “Do you think she knew she was sick?” Anne asked. She sat cross-legged on the mattress, leaving ample space for him to sit beside her.

  Will did so, but his accidental glance at the inviting gap in her shorts made him swallow hard and look back at the screen. “No,” he said, shaking his head with more force than necessary. “She seemed fine. Not quite as peppy as usual, but she blamed the weather. They’d had several storms.”

  “I know. That’s why Zoey and I didn’t come. I was afraid we’d get snowbound. Things were piling up at work and I couldn’t afford to lose any time…”

  The regret in her voice made him put his arm around her shoulders. “You made the right decision. I was stuck here two extra days and missed an important event in Laughlin. I was trying to make up for it when I drew the bull that gave me the concussion, which is the reason I’m not riding this summer.”

  Her smile said thank-you, and something else. Something inviting, but he couldn’t accept until he was clear about what this meant to her. Was this casual sex between two consenting adults or were they taking the first step toward something meaningful? If the latter was the case, Will had to make certain Anne understood who he was and what he did for a living, because that wasn’t going to change.

  “Anne, do you want to know the real reason I ride bulls?”

  When she nodded, Will took the remote from her hands and fast-forwarded until he spotted a familiar face. “Him. John Albert Cavanaugh.”

  “Your dad?”

  “He was twenty-nine when he died. He left some unfinished business and it’s up to me to get the job done. I started participating in rodeos almost as soon as I could walk. Mutton busting, greased-pig chase, calf riding.”

  “Seriously? Those are events?”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been told that I was very good. Not fast enough to catch my little oinker, but close.”

  He hit play. Six little boys in boots and hats stood in line, their fathers behind them. Each child had a big black number pinned to his shirt. “That’s me,” Will said, pointing to a scrawny runt wearing the number six.

  Anne let out a whoop. “Look how little you were. I can’t wait to show this to Zoey,” she exclaimed. “She’s been bugging me about attending a rodeo before we leave. If she sees this she’ll want to participate.” She frowned. “They don’t let girls, do they?”

  “Nowadays it would be dangerous to tell a girl she can’t do something.”

  A.J.’s infrequent commentary clued them into what was happening. Will pointed out his father, mother and grandmother when they came into range of the camera. The view panned to the wooden chutes across from the bleachers. An announcer’s voice could be heard. “Okay, folks, give a big round of applause for Mr. William Cavanaugh, who’s riding his very first bucking bull…calf. This young man has some pretty big boots to fill since his pappy is rodeo favorite John Cavanaugh.”

  Will glanced sideways. Anne had scooted to her knees on the mattress and was leaning forward, her body language fraught with tension. “Anne, relax. I survived.”

  She gave him a quick smile but returned to her scrutiny. “Your father looks upset about something.”

  Will eyed the screen. He didn’t remember this part. Had Esther fast-forwarded the tape for some reason?

  He turned up the volume to catch what his father was saying. His was a voice he couldn’t remember hearing in real life. “Pay attention to me when I’m talking to you, son. Do you want to win or not?”

  “Johnny, let it go,” a woman said off camera. “He’s just a little boy. He did his best.”

  “Stay out of this, woman. This is between me and my son. If he wants to represent the Cavanaugh name in rodeo, he needs to do it right so he wins. We don’t have room for losers in the family. Ain’t that right, Will?”

  The screen went to blue, but not before Wi
ll saw the child’s face barely visible beneath the brim of his big black hat. Cheeks streaked with tears, lips trembling, but chin set stubbornly. Obviously trying hard not to show his pain. No room for losers.

  “That seemed a bit harsh. Do you remember it?” Anne asked.

  “Nope,” Will answered truthfully. “I barely remember either one of my folks. They were on the road a lot of the time and I stayed with A.J. and Grandma or my mom’s aunt in Chico. I was here when the call came from the state troopers.”

  Thank goodness, he thought he heard her whisper.

  “I remember the funeral, though. Grandma told me I couldn’t swing on the tire because that would insult their memory.” So Will had hidden under the porch. That was how he had overheard a man say something about John’s “problem.” Will had listened closely, thinking they were talking about him, but another man had argued that “John Cavanaugh drove better drunk than most men drive sober.”

  Will frowned. Was that true? he wondered. He’d have to ask A.J. when he got home.

  Anne touched his shoulder. “How soon after that did you start riding bulls?”

  “Most of that winter, Grandma was sick. A.J. rigged up a bucking barrel for me in the barn. Gave me something to do and kept us both out of the house. I think he needed it as much as I did.”

  “Was he hoping you’d follow in your father’s footsteps?”

  Will shook his head. “No. I don’t think he wanted that. In fact, he tried to get me interested in helping with the ranch, but I had my mind set. I was going to be a rodeo cowboy, like my dad.”

  She took a breath and let it out. “I guess I can understand why you’d want to follow in his footsteps, but why bulls? It’s so dangerous.”

  “Danger is relative. When you’re young, eight seconds on the back of a bull sounds like a breeze. Unfortunately, by the time you get some sense knocked into you, you’re hooked.”

  “On what? The rush?”

  “I guess you could call it that.”

  “You’re going back to it, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “As soon as A.J. gets home?”

  “If I can get my doctor to sign off on my medical release. He’ll probably want to run a few tests, take some X rays.”

  “Of your head?”

  Had she heard something? “What do you mean?”

  She made a funny face and shook her head. Her silky hair bounced about her jaw in a provocative way. “Anyone would have to have a screw loose to ride bulls. Just think about it.”

  Will let go of the breath he’d been holding. “Never said I wasn’t crazy.”

  She went still, then lifted her hand and touched his lips. “Are you crazy enough to get involved with me?”

  “Of all the risky, insane things I’ve done in my life, Anne, making love with you feels pretty rational by comparison. Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

  Will waited until she nodded before pulling her into his arms. “Then the answer is yes.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A THOUSAND THOUGHTS crashed through Anne’s head the moment he kissed her. I love him.

  This was my mother’s bed.

  Are the windows open?

  What if I cry out his name?

  He’s even more handsome than he was in high school.

  Are my teeth brushed?

  The question she hadn’t meant to ask popped out. “Is this wrong?”

  Will moved off the bed to face her. He tilted his head and gave her a smile she’d only seen once or twice—a little-boy grin that almost broke her heart. “Probably. Do you want me to leave?”

  The smart answer was yes, but Anne was sick of making the so-called smart choice. She wanted to feel. To experience. Ride horseback like her daughter, splash in the pool, try the spicy salsa instead of the mild. Make love with Will—her most enduring dream.

  “I want you to stay.”

  He stepped close enough for Anne to feel a connection so tangible she could almost see it shimmering in the silvery cast of the television. His gaze caressed her face, her body. “Please,” she added.

  One corner of his mouth curved upward but he remained a step away. “Are you always so polite?”

  His tone implied a challenge. Anne had to smile. He knew her well. “Sometimes, I ask. Sometimes, I take. Which do you prefer?”

  The serious look in his eyes lightened. He wet his lips and gave her that cowboy nod she adored. “Can’t say without giving both ways a try.”

  Anne closed the distance between them. “Then I guess it’s up to me to make an executive decision.” She grabbed a fistful of shirt and pulled him to her. Nose-to-nose, she told him, “Take off your clothes and get in bed.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Soon as you let go of my buttons.” Humor twinkled in his eyes, which had taken on a smoky gray-blue hue.

  Anne released her grip and stepped back to watch the slow, sexy process of a man’s hand working each small white button free. When he reached his waist, he yanked the fabric from his jeans and completed the process.

  No undershirt. Just bare, tanned flesh and an inviting thatch of dark curls nestled between his well-molded pecs. Was his body hair silky or springy? Her fingers itched to find out.

  “Speaking of buttons, where’s that remote?” Anne spotted it on the bed. She reached for it, but Will was faster. He pushed the Off button on the television, plunging the room into momentary darkness.

  Anne blinked, trying to focus. A soft pinkish glow from the adjoining bathroom gave them enough light to navigate by. It was a gentle light that might hide various imperfections. And while there were many on the man who shrugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor, Anne knew they were all superficial.

  His big, strong-looking hands worked his leather belt free of its impressive buckle. He laid it across the footstool of the nearby chair, then undid the button at the waistband of his jeans.

  Anne’s throat dried up with anticipation.

  He tugged on the zipper, making an accommodating wiggle to avoid the bulge pressing against the fabric.

  White cotton briefs, she thought with a secret smile. She’d wondered.

  He moved to the side of the bed and sat down to remove his boots. Anne couldn’t resist touching the broad expanse of back when he leaned over. Warm as the soil in her garden at noon. She ran her fingers along the curve of his spine.

  “I like this light,” he said. “Maybe you won’t be distracted by my scars.”

  Her sensitive fingertips paused on a raised notch. She leaned over to kiss it. “We both have scars,” she murmured. “Yours are just easier to spot.”

  His boots hit the floor in quick succession then he half turned to face her. Quick as lightning, he pulled her across his lap so her shoulders were resting in the curve of his left arm. As her brain registered the fact that she was safe, that he wouldn’t let her fall, she relaxed.

  He lowered his head to kiss her exposed shoulder, setting off a shiver of exquisite anticipation. “Will you show me yours?”

  Anne’s heart stuttered. No one had ever asked her that. Could she talk about her past? Her failed marriage? Her missed opportunities to be a better daughter and mother? Yes, she thought. But now wasn’t the time. This was about feeling. “Show and tell comes later. This is about taking.” She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “And giving.” Her tongue tickled the corner of his mouth. “Satisfaction.”

  He snickered softly. “I love the way your mind works.” He teased her lips with tiny kisses that made her hungry for more. “Almost as much as I love the way your body feels in my arms.” His free hand trailed down the outside of her rib cage to her hip.

  When he flexed his arm to pull her closer, Anne felt the sinewy strength controlled for her benefit. And she couldn’t wait to push the boundaries of that control.

  She wiggled off his lap. With what she hoped was a provocative smile, she walked to the other side of the bed and knelt on the mattress across from him. Will turne
d to face her.

  She beckoned him with a sultry “come here” motion.

  “Minus the pants, please.”

  Will stood, jeans riding low on his hip, the discernible outline of his arousal visible. “I don’t want to seem picky, but why are you fully dressed while I’m naked?”

  No guts, no glory. Anne gripped the hem of her tank top, closed her eyes and yanked the shirt off. She kept it clutched in her right hand as she sank back on her calves. She’d never felt more naked, even when posing nude for Eduardo.

  Then she opened her eyes and saw Will’s face. His lips were parted as if in wonder. When his gaze met hers, he smiled. Broadly. “You are a woman of many surprises. And breathless beauty.”

  The hunger in his eyes gave Anne permission to let go. Sex was a complication she’d told herself she didn’t need. She was wrong. The desire she read in his look made her feel more alive than she had in years.

  His pants hit the floor and he leaned down to remove his socks. When he straightened, Anne looked at him. Her breath lodged in her throat when she realized he’d removed his shorts at the same time. “I’ll second that,” she said in a strangled voice. A spike of heat hit her cheeks, when she realized that hadn’t come out right. “I mean, you. You’re full of surprises, too. Wonderful…big surprises.”

  Will’s low hoot was the release she needed to move. Shorts flew. Underwear followed. Covers were drawn back. “Hurry,” she urged, surprised to find him still standing in the same spot.

  “Why?” He peeled back his half of the bedding then knelt on the edge of the mattress in a predatory fashion. “Please, don’t tell me we’re on the clock.”

  Anne brushed her bangs out of her eyes and sank into the foam pillows. She modestly pulled the corner of the sheet over her breasts. “No. No clocks,” she said, her voice going higher as he stalked toward her. Lion to lioness. Predator to prey. “In fact, you’d better last longer than eight seconds or…”

  His bark of laughter cut off her threat. Anne wasn’t worried. If she lasted eight seconds she’d be lucky. She felt very close to burning up just looking into the fathomless depths of his eyes. She’d never wanted a man more, needed his touch with the kind of intense desire that threatened to consume her.