by Jami Alden
Ian’s retort trailed off into a groan at his brother’s capitulation.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Natalia’s exuberance, coupled with the grin that spread across her face, offered Ian a glimpse of the down to earth, carefree girl he remembered.
His heart thudded in his chest at the knowledge that she was still in there, somewhere.
If he could get that girl to emerge, it would almost make moving the cattle and cleaning up cow shit worth it.
He rode his horse up to the barn and dismounted in front of the partially open door. As he pushed it open to lead his horse inside, he saw that he was not alone. Natalia was there, standing with her back to him in the middle of the barn, muttering to herself. No doubt cooking up another plan that would be a huge pain in his ass.
His irritation at the thought was no match for the thrill that sizzled through him at the sight of her. She was so immersed in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear him, and he took a moment to drink her in. She must have been exercising, because instead of her usual uniform of skinny jeans and a blousy top, she wore tight Lycra pants that ended just below her knees. They clung to the luscious curve of her ass in a way that gave him heart palpitations.
She topped the tights with an equally snug racer back tank top. His fingers itched to caress the smooth, bare skin of her shoulders, and he was pretty sure he could circle her tiny waist with his hands.
Next to him Sampson stamped his front hoof and gave a loud snort, as though reminding Ian to unsaddle him already.
Natalia startled and whirled around at the sound. “Jesus, you scared me.” She splayed a hand across the bare skin above the scoop neck of her tank top. His gaze settled there for a moment, then traveled lower, to the curves of her breasts straining the stretchy fabric of her tank top.
They were as full and lush as he remembered. His palm tingled with the remembered weight of them, the feel of her rock hard nipple eager against his hand. Blood pooled low in his belly, then settled heavily in his groin.
“Ahem,” she said and crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
He pulled his gaze guiltily up to hers and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She must not have realized that crossing her arms over her chest only served to plump up the upper curves, deepening her cleavage so enticingly it was all he could do not to dive in head first. He turned his attention to unsaddling Sampson so he wouldn’t do something stupid. “What are you doing in here?”
“I have an idea.”
He felt a spark of dread at her reply, coupled with the scheming expression on her face. Somehow, he knew whatever idea she had, it was going to be yet another pain in his ass. “I’m afraid to even ask,” he said as he unbuckled the cinch on his saddle and pulled it off his horse’s back.
“I was trying to think of other places to shoot pictures of the wedding party, and on my way back from my run this morning it was like I could feel the barn calling to me.” The excitement in her tone offered no relief. “It’s going to be perfect.”
He ducked into the tack room to put his saddle on a rack protruding from the wall and grabbed a halter from a hook.
As he looked around the cavernous wooden building with its hay and dust covered concrete floor, he wondered what the hell she was seeing.
“We’ll have to clean it up, of course,” she was pacing around the barn now. “And move all of this stuff out,” she gestured at a bunch of tools stacked up in a corner.
“Where do you propose we put it?” he snapped as he led Sampson into a stall and slipped off his bridle. He checked to make sure there was water in his bucket and poured some grain in his trough.
Her slim bare shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“You are insane. Cora isn’t going to want to have a bunch of pictures taken in a dusty old barn.”
“But it won’t look like a dusty old barn. It will be gorgeous.” Her tone had moved past excited and was fast approaching manic. “I can just see it. We’ll put flowers all along that wall, and I’ll drape tulle around the door.”
Several of the horses swung their heads over their stall doors as though curious about what the crazy lady was up to.
“I can even have Josie make garlands for the horses to wear,” she said as though she hadn’t even heard him and clapped her hands in excitement.
Her pacing brought her over to the wooden ladder that led up into the hayloft. “Oh, I bet we could get some awesome shots up there.” She placed her right foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.
“Hey, stop,” he called and hurried over. “One of the rungs is rotten and I haven’t had time to replace it.”
She was so intent on her exploring she didn’t hear his warning. She was close to the top when she planted her foot in the middle of the rotten rung. The crack as it gave way was immediately followed by a shriek as her hands lost their grip on the ladder.
He was there to catch her, bracing himself as her weight hit his torso. He wrapped his arms around her and was immediately, intensely aware of the small, curvy body tucked tightly against his own.
She was perfectly still in his embrace. He could feel her heart pounding and hear her breath coming fast at the fear induced adrenaline rush. His own heartbeat had kicked up, but it had little to do with fear and everything to do with the thrill of holding Natalia so tightly against him light could barely get through.
He could smell the scent of her shampoo coming off her sweat dampened hair. He bent and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before he could think better of it. She stiffened in his arms at the contact. “You need to be more careful,” he said as he released her from his embrace.
She turned to face him, her cheeks flushed pink. “Thank you for saving my ass.”
His lips quirked into a half grin. “I’d be a fool not to do whatever I could to save an ass as fine as yours.”
Her cheeks got even pinker, if that was possible, and he didn’t miss the flash of a little something in her eyes. It told him that regardless of her anger at him, the spark of attraction that had once drawn her to him hadn’t been completely buried.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I know you want Cora’s wedding to be special and all, but I don’t think a photo shoot in the barn is such a great idea. And no one needs to be climbing up to the hay loft.”
“I can buy a new ladder so everyone will be safe,” she said with a dismissive wave. Whatever spark she might have felt between them seemed to have vanished and she was back in planning mode. “We can shoot the bridal party sitting on hay bales decorated with flowers and fabric.”
“I don’t think-“
She kept talking as though she didn’t hear him. Maybe she didn’t. That weirdly intense, almost manic look was back on her face and her eyes were glazed over as if she was in a trance. “It will be awesome. It will be absolutely perfect.”
“The way you keep saying that almost makes you sound crazy,” he snapped. Something in his tone got to her because she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as they focused on him.
She paused and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know I can get a little intense sometimes. It’s just that there’s so much riding on this wedding, I have to make sure everything is -”
“Perfect?”
She huffed a little laugh and nodded. “Yes, down to the last detail.”
“I understand you’re Cora’s best friend and you want to do a good job for her, but why is this particular wedding such a huge deal?”
She sighed and tucked a lock of hair that had sprung loose from her ponytail behind her ear. “At the risk of sounding overdramatic, my entire career depends on me pulling this off. I need all of the guests to leave this ranch convinced that this was one of the most exquisitely planned and executed weddings they’ve ever attended.”
“I don’t get it. Aren’t most people happy as long as you have good food, good booze, and a decent DJ?”
She rolled he
r eyes. “Well considering the last event I planned nearly resulted in the death of a supermodel, it’s going to take more than that for me to rebuild my professional reputation.”
He listened as she explained the incident at Sloan Winslow’s birthday party that resulted in her getting fired from her job. If you asked him, he thought everyone had overreacted a bit. But no one was asking him, so he kept his mouth shut.
Clearly Natalia was very passionate about what she did and there was no missing the devastation in her dark eyes as she talked about losing her job.
“So, I’m sorry if I seem a little crazed, but I have a vision of how everything should be. And I know if I can pull it off, it will go a long way in helping me get my career back on track.” The determined glint in her eye and stubborn tilt to her chin hinted at the scrappy young woman who had so thoroughly captured his attention all those years ago.
While he would never understand the importance of fancy place settings, the difference between stainless steel and silver utensils, or why it was necessary to give the barn a major makeover for a single photo shoot, all of that stuff was of utmost importance to Natalia.
He didn’t know why - maybe it was her passion and the fierce determination he’d always admired - but in that moment Natalia’s success became very important to him as well. No matter how big of a pain in the ass she was, he would do everything he could to help her pull off this wedding.
Chapter Five
To Natalia’s surprise, after her little manic episode in the barn, Ian was suddenly amenable to any idea she suggested, no matter how impractical. Not only that, he proved himself very helpful in helping her find people who could help fulfill their more unusual requests.
For example, he knew a friend who could fulfill her last minute request for a horse and buggy who could drive the bridal party up to the big house for the ceremony. No matter that this would require all the bridesmaids to be driven from the house in cars to board the buggy. Natalia knew it would add a dramatic touch to their entrance and would create another fantastic photo opportunity.
Whereas for the first week of her visit, when she mostly only saw him at dinner, now he was stopping by the house several times a day. He gave her and Cora rides into town to meet with the florist and the caterers, and even weighed in on some of the decor choices.
“I think that shade of blue looks really nice,” he said as she and Cora were looking at different swatches for the table linens. As usual, Cora’s mother, who had arrived two days ago, saw what they had picked (and Louise had agreed to!) and promptly changed her mind.
Louise, who at fifty-six looked barely over forty thanks to careful maintenance of the blonde good looks she’d passed on to her daughters, held the two napkins up and peered at them over her glasses. “The difference it subtle, but it’s important we get it right.” She bit her lip uncertainly, a gesture mirrored by Cora.
“I think that one,” Ian continued as he indicated the slightly darker linen with his big, callused hand, “will also work better with the bridesmaids’ dresses.”
Natalia looked over at him and arched a brow. “How do you know what the bridesmaids’ look like?” The dresses in question were still in New York, to be delivered by Olivia along with Cora’s custom hand sewn wedding dress when she arrived in a few days.
His broad shoulders lifted and lowered in a shrug. “Cora showed me a picture.”
Not for the first time, Natalia wondered why Ian was suddenly so interested in every detail about the wedding. What guy cared about bridesmaids’ dresses?
“He asked, believe it or not,” Cora said. “And I think he’s right. This is the right color,” she plucked the darker napkin from her mother’s grasp.
Though his interest in the wedding came out of left field, Natalia wasn’t complaining about it. Not only was he actually helpful, she couldn’t say she minded him hanging around. Despite the memory of his rejection, there was no denying the chemistry that still sizzled between them.
And it wasn’t just her long ago teenage crush that fueled it. The more time she spent with him, the more she appreciated how different he was from every other guy she’d ever dated. All of the guys Natalia had dated since moving to New York were either too smooth, or too focused on proving to her how rich and successful they were.
But Ian was confident without being arrogant and seemed perfectly comfortable in his own skin. Why wouldn’t he be, when he was every straight woman’s and gay man’s cowboy fantasy come to life?
The more time she spent with him, the harder it was not to remember how it had felt to kiss him all those years ago. And it was impossible not to think about doing it again, and a whole lot more.
But Natalia had never been one to have brief, casual flings, and that was all that could ever happen between her and Ian. Once she went home to New York, she’d probably never see him again. Only that thought, and the memory of her humiliation years ago, kept her from giving in.
Ian stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. A common occurrence since he’d decided to aid Natalia in her mission to throw the wedding of the century. If he’d though he was going crazy when she first showed up, it was nothing compared to how he felt after spending several days willingly inserting himself into all of the wedding planning shenanigans.
He didn’t know how Natalia did it, having to keep track of every tiny detail, most of which, he was certain, none of the guests would ever notice. Then there was dealing with Cora, whose stress level increased exponentially with every day leading up to the wedding. Today Natalia had to spend a solid half hour helping her ward off a panic attack.
It probably hadn’t helped that, with just four days to go until the wedding, Louise had said she wanted to book a different DJ.
But the worst - and the best - part was spending so much time in close proximity to Natalia. With every second he spent with her, the attraction he’d felt from the first moment he laid eyes on her grew. And it wasn’t just her beautiful face and mouthwatering body that drew him in.
He quickly discovered that under her grown up, polished facade, she was still that same girl who busted his chops and cracked him up with her smart mouth. He genuinely liked her as much as he lusted after her.
If she didn’t live halfway across the country from him, he wondered if that like could turn into something more.
Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he was ever going to get a chance to see, and not just because of their geographic incompatibility. Though he thought he’d felt a mutual attraction from her that day in the barn, in the days since he concluded that he must have been projecting it onto her. Because though Natalia’s demeanor had warmed considerably, there was absolutely no indication she was attracted and nothing remotely flirtatious in their interactions.
It was probably for the best, he knew. It would be a waste to get attached to someone who was going to walk out of his life in less than a week. But damned if he didn’t have to practically sit on his hands to keep himself from reaching out to stroke the smooth skin of her cheek or bare shoulder. And nothing could stop his fevered dreams of taking her to his bed and exploring every inch of her delicious body, even if it was for only a few nights.
He closed his eyes and tried to shove the images of Natalia, beautifully naked, under him, on top of him. Kneeling in front of him to take his cock between her luscious lips. Of him cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples, which he imagined were the same deep pink color of her mouth.
Groaning, he finally gave in and reached down to wrap his fist around the erection tenting his sheets. It took only a few quick pumps before he was squirting in his hand. It was nothing compared to burying himself balls deep inside the woman herself, but it offered a small degree of relief. He went to the bathroom, cleaned himself up, climbed back into bed, and closed his eyes.
Another hour passed and sleep refused to come. Fuck it.
He shoved the covers back and pulled on the shorts and t-shirt he’d left on the floor next to his bed. He padd
ed barefoot to his tiny kitchen and went to the cabinet where he kept his bourbon, hoping a few fingers of good, strong, whiskey would push him over the edge into sleep.
Only to find the bottle missing. “Damn you, Wyatt,” he said under his breath. He shoved his feet into a pair of running shoes, determined to retrieve his pilfered liquor. But a quick search of his brother’s house revealed nothing more than a six pack of beer in the refrigerator and half a bottle of tequila.
After an experience his sophomore year of college, just the sight of the bottle had him feeling green around the gills.
An image of the liquor cabinet at the big house popped into his head. It was always stocked with top shelf booze, including an especially nice bourbon. He’d shared several glasses of it with Don McLaughlin over the years. He was sure Don wouldn’t begrudge him a glass or two to help him sleep.
They’d always had an open door policy for the big house and encouraged Wyatt and Ian to come and go as they pleased and help themselves to whatever they wanted. He and his brother did their best not to abuse the privilege and only ever took them up on it when they faced an emergency like running out of toilet paper or, like the other day, milk for their coffee.
Though he had never, and to his knowledge Wyatt had never, helped himself to the liquor cabinet, he decided what threatened to be his third sleepless night in a row qualified as an emergency.
Gravel crunched under the soles of his shoes as he walked over to the big house. He let himself in through the unlocked front door. Careful not to wake anyone, he walked quietly across the great room to the liquor cabinet. He quickly located the desired bottle and filled a crystal highball glass half way with the amber liquid. He took a sip and sighed in satisfaction as warmth spread through his abdomen. Now all he needed was some ice.
As he moved toward the kitchen, he saw that the light was on and could hear someone moving around. He froze, wondering if he should sneak out before anyone knew he was here. Then he decided he should just own it. Running off like a thief didn’t sit well with him. If the McLaughlins were pissed that he’d extended their open door policy to the liquor cabinet, he’d deal with the consequences.
