It was so quick, she hardly believed he'd done it.
But then he winked at her and she knew it was a memory she would cherish for years.
The whole day was perfect. Like one of those wonderfully romantic novels she read and Dori rolled her eyes over because, as Dori said, "Things like that never happen in real life."
But right now—for just a few hours at least—they were happening to her!
The sun shone, but not too warmly. The breezes blew, but they were zephyrs, not a gale. The horse she rode was gentle.
"An old nag," Cash called it disgustedly, but Milly didn't care.
She didn't want a bronc. She just wanted to do something new, something different, something special, something that would always remind her of Cash.
In fact, she didn't think she would need any reminders of Cash. There was no way on earth she was going to forget him. He wasn't like any other guy she'd ever met.
She wasn't like any other girl he'd ever met.
She didn't giggle and she didn't simper, and if she laughed and smiled and tempted the hell out of him, it wasn't because she was trying to. She just seemed to enjoy what they were doing.
He couldn't believe she'd never been on a horse before; one glimpse of her in the saddle and he knew she was telling the truth. But she was eager, and she did what he told her, catching on quickly. And though they rode a long way up into the foothills quickly, and her legs and rear end must have been aching, she didn't complain. Not once.
She had packed them a picnic lunch, and they stopped on a rise overlooking the valley to eat. Cash got down first and went to catch her, knowing she'd wobble when she got off the horse.
She did, practically crumpling against him before she got her balance again. She clutched his arms and laughed shakily. "Sorry about that."
"No problem." Cash was enjoying holding her. "You all right? I reckon you'll be plenty sore tomorrow."
"Probably," Milly said. She pushed away gingerly. "But it's worth it."
"I could, um, give you a back rub?"
She laughed. "It isn't my back that hurts."
Cash grinned. "Ah, well. I could rub that, too."
"Thanks, but I think this is a little too public for that sort of thing."
Well, at least she didn't act shocked. At least she didn't say, "No way." Not that he'd expected her to. He knew a positive response when he felt one. Milly Malone had given him the most positive response he'd ever felt!
She tottered over and untied the rolled blanket she'd been carrying behind her saddle, then spread it out on the ground.
Cash helped get the food. His stomach growled.
Milly laughed. "I didn't realize I was starving you."
He grinned a little self-consciously. "Don't get many meals that smell this good."
She looked satisfied. "Well, help yourself."
They sat cross-legged on the blanket and ate potato salad and fried chicken that she'd made that morning, and Cash polished off the rest of last night's meat loaf as well.
Then Milly handed him a bag of cookies she'd also made that morning and Cash couldn't resist. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had homemade chocolate chip cookies. He must have downed a dozen before he lay back on the blanket and rubbed his belly. "Best meal I've had in years. Maybe ever."
"Good. Then you'll always remember."
"No fear of me forgettin' a meal like this."
"And the day?"
He turned his head to look at her when he heard the hesitancy in her words. Their gazes met, locked. And all the hunger that wasn't just for food, and all the need and all the frustration he'd been feeling since that morning when he'd had to leave her, wouldn't be denied. He reached out a hand and snagged hers.
She came to him willingly, even landing right on top of him when he tugged her that way. And when he touched his lips to hers, she kissed him with a longing that seemed to equal his.
It was wonderful. Marvelous. Better than all the chocolate chip cookies, fried chicken and potato salad in the world.
"Ah, yeah," Cash murmured, and rolled her beneath him.
"Ow."
He jerked, then pulled back to look down at her. Milly gave him an apologetic smile. "S-sorry. I'm … just a little sore. Stiff, you know," she added, "from the riding."
Of course she was. And he was an idiot. He scrambled off her.
"I'm okay," she said quickly.
But Cash knew better. "I owe you a back rub," he reminded her as he sat back on his heels and smiled at her.
She turned bright red. "I don't think—"
"C'mon," he said. He turned her around and got behind her and settled his hands on her back.
At first she was stiff under his touch. Rigid, almost. He pressed the pads of his thumbs against her spine and began to work his way down. A soft shudder coursed through her.
"Hurt?" he asked.
"Mmm? N-no." She flexed her shoulders. A sigh escaped her. "G-good," she said.
Cash smiled. He kept kneading, letting his hands move rhythmically over her back, then slide up to knead the taut cords of her neck.
Milly sighed and softened, her shoulders bent. She began to melt under his touch.
Cash's own body was about as far from melting as it could get. A fine tremor seemed to have settled in his fingers. He clenched his fists to stop it.
"Don't!"
"What?" He looked at her bent head, confused by her demand. "Don't what?"
"Don't stop."
He smothered a groan. No, God help him, he wouldn't stop. He cleared his throat. "Lie down," he commanded. His voice sounded ragged even to him.
For a long moment Milly didn't move. He thought she was going to argue. But then, wordlessly, she turned to lie on her stomach. Her T-shirt hiked up so he could see a couple of inches of her back. The same couple of inches he'd seen when she'd stood on tiptoe in her kitchen. But they were more accessible now. He could touch them.
Cash took a careful breath, then straddled her thighs, settled lightly on them and let his fingers brush the bare skin above the waistband of her jeans.
Milly murmured softly. She didn't freeze up. On the contrary, she closed her eyes and pillowed her head on her hands and let him slide his fingers up her spine, beneath her shirt, against the warm, smooth skin of her back.
The breeze played with strands of her hair, blowing them over his hands. They felt like silk. She felt like silk everywhere he touched her.
It was better than he'd dreamed. He'd been thinking about touching Milly since the night he'd met her. He'd been dreaming about touching her since the morning after he'd fallen asleep.
And now … now he could touch her, stroke her, knead her smooth, supple flesh, bend his head and kiss the cotton that lay between his lips and her skin, ease the shirt up just a little higher, touch her spine with his mouth.
God, yes! His fingers trembled. It was all he could do to go slow, to force himself to take things easy.
She was young, he reminded himself. She was innocent. She might even be a virgin!
Cripes, it didn't bear thinking about! He might be the first.
It made him nervous as hell. He wanted it to be good for her—as good as he was sure it would be for him. He wanted it to be wonderful.
He bent his head and touched his lips to the back of her neck.
"Wonderful," Milly murmured. "Marvelous."
"Yes." Only one word hissed out from between Cash's lips. But it was pure agreement. She was right. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
His hands moved lower, caressing her backside. He knew it was sorer than her back so it had to need his touch even more.
The denim felt rough beneath his fingers—much rougher than Milly's skin. Colder than Milly's skin. More impersonal than Milly's skin. He wanted to touch Milly's skin.
His fingers curved beneath the denim, sliding down to caress the smooth skin of her buttocks and…
And she scrambled out from between his legs with suc
h force that she knocked him backward onto his butt.
"What the—!" He gaped at her.
Milly rolled over and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, her eyes wide, her breath coming in gulps. "You know what," she said, still gulping air.
"I—"
"I don't want—" she stopped, the color high in her cheeks, and shook her head. "No, that's not true," she said after a moment. "I do want… I just … can't."
Cash scowled. "Can't?"
"Won't, I guess I should say."
As if that clarified a damn thing. "Won't?" His scowl deepened.
Milly bit her lip. "I have a sister," she said after a long silence. "And well … she did."
Cash was pretty sure that wasn't the end of the story, but he had a fair idea what the end of the story was. "Jake's mother?"
"Mmm." Milly picked at the edge of the blanket. "Dori's not like me. She's always really strong. Really determined. And sort of a rebel, too. She never listened much to anything Daddy said."
Having met Daddy, Cash had a fair amount of sympathy for Milly's sister. "She rebelled against Daddy and had Jake?"
"Something like that," Milly said. "There was this guy who was in Livingston for a while. His name was Chris and he was a singer. A good singer. He was going places. And Dori … well, Dori loved him."
Cash ran his tongue over his lips and settled back, feeling the urgency slowly ebb. Not feeling the interest go away.
"He wasn't … Daddy's idea of a responsible guy. He didn't want Dori to have anything to do with him. He said Chris was unstable. Undependable. He said Chris was selfish and that when he wanted to move on, he would leave Dori without a backward glance."
"He said all that to your sister?" Cash shook his head in disbelief. How could a father be that dumb?
Milly nodded.
"And she didn't deck him?" Cash was outraged on Dori's behalf.
Milly smiled sadly. "Hardly. But she did what she thought was the next best thing. She ran away with Chris."
"Something tells me the story doesn't have a happy ending."
Milly shook her head. "Daddy was right. Chris wasn't dependable. Dori got pregnant and was sick, and he said he wasn't ready for that. He couldn't deal with it. He said he couldn't deal with her. Not then. When he grew up, maybe, he said. And he sent her home."
"She came?" Cash had trouble believing that, too.
But Milly said simply, "She was pregnant and jobless and she didn't have any money. Where else could she go?"
Nowhere. Cash understood. And the old man had been making her pay for it ever since. Cash sighed and settled back, propping himself on his hands. "And you're determined not to go the same route. Is that it?"
Milly flushed. "Raising a child alone isn't easy," she said, defending herself.
"I'm sure it isn't," Cash said. "But I wouldn't have got you pregnant!" He said the words a little gruffly, a little guiltily, because in fact, even protected, he knew he couldn't guarantee it.
"It isn't just that." Milly hugged her knees tightly. "It's important, of course. As little as Jake is, he misses having a dad. His friends have dads. He wants a dad. But—" she ducked her head again, and her voice dropped so he could barely hear her "—that's not the only reason I won't."
Cash wasn't sure he heard right. "Not the only…?"
Milly lifted her gaze, then, and met his. "I would like to make love with you," she said in a soft but firm voice, "but it would have to be 'making love.' When I make love, I, want it to matter."
It matters! Cash wanted to say. To his deprived and aching body it mattered a whole hell of a lot! He'd been needing her for hours, for days, for weeks! Sometimes it felt liked he'd needed her forever.
But that wasn't what she meant.
And he knew what she meant—exactly what she said.
She meant she wanted to make love, not just to assuage desire or release or momentary satisfaction. What she wanted had nothing to do with the caress of silken skin, soft kisses or even desperate, hungry ones. It had to do with commitment and responsibility and vows.
God.
Cash didn't know the first thing about that kind of love! Not grown-up, responsible, give-and-take, committed adult love. He wasn't sure he wanted to know anything about it!
Not for a while yet. Not for years, actually. When he was forty … maybe then. Yeah, forty might be long enough.
But he didn't think Milly wanted to hear that.
He knew what Milly wanted to hear. And if he were a real cad, he could say the words. He knew guys who would. They'd get what they wanted, and then they'd walk—just like Chris Whoever-He-Was had.
Or run. He supposed running was closer to the truth.
Well, maybe some guys could live with themselves if they did that.
Not Cash.
He rubbed the back of his neck. He scrubbed at his face with his hand. He reached out and snagged his hat from where it had fallen on the ground. Setting it on his head, he gave it a sharp tug, pulling it down.
"I'm sorry," Milly said in the face of his silence. "I shouldn't have brought you up here. I shouldn't have let you rub my … back. I shouldn't have—"
Maybe not. But Cash was honest enough to admit that the fault wasn't entirely hers.
"If you say you shouldn't have cooked me that fried chicken and made those cookies, I'm gonna say you're a flat-out liar," Cash said roughly. But he managed a grin that was rewarded when Milly stopped looking so stricken and relief flooded her face.
"You're not mad?"
Yes, he was. He was insane. He shook his head.
"You're—" her cheeks reddened "—all right?"
Cash shut his eyes for a brief moment, then shifted on the blanket, adjusting his jeans. "I reckon I'll live."
Milly scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to him.
Cash hesitated for just a second before he took it and let her haul him to his feet. Then damned if she didn't lean close and brush a kiss across his cheek. "Cash Callahan, I think you must be the sweetest man on the face of the earth."
Sweet, God help him!
Cash blinked, then blushed, then looked at the toes of his boots and shook his head despairingly. "Or the dumbest, I reckon."
* * *
Six
« ^ »
Dumb didn't even begin to describe him.
He needed his head examined. Not just for sleeping on the damn sofa or for going horseback riding or not doing what he really wanted to do with Milly Malone up there on the mountain, or even taking her back home after, smiling and untouched.
Those things were dumb, but they made a certain amount of scrupulous sense of the sort of which mothers were proud and, if they ever found out, gave you a pat on the head.
What made no sense at all—what was in fact the dumbest thing he ever did—happened two weeks after the horseback riding afternoon … two weeks after he kissed Milly Malone chastely on the lips and waved goodbye, determined to put her out of his mind for ever and ever. He came back!
For no good reason at all.
He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere—and still he came back.
This time, damned if she didn't talk him into going out in a canoe! "A canoe?"
"I rode horses for you," she said as if that made it all right.
"I don't—I can't—" But when she looked at him that way, how the heck was he going to say no to her?
And that was how Cash Callahan, who couldn't swim a stroke, found himself in the middle of the Yellowstone River, paddling for all he was worth in a less-than-cooperative canoe.
He couldn't believe he was doing this. Couldn't imagine why he'd let her talk him into it. What was he going to get out of canoeing—besides wet?
And then he capsized—and suddenly he knew.
He was going down for the third time, regretting a misspent life and a complete lack of intimacies with Milly, when Milly threw her arms around him and hauled him to the bank.
The feel of her w
et warm body pressed to his was enough to give him heart failure.
But then she crouched over him, big eyes pleading. "Are you all right? Tell me you're all right. Do you need artificial resuscitation?"
And Cash swallowed the last of the river and gasped, "Yes, please!"
She laughed. She sat back on her heels and actually laughed at him! And then she bent down, pressed her breasts against his chest and touched her lips to his. Cash understood why they called it the "kiss of life." But when she was finished, his heart was beating so fast he thought he needed resuscitation more after her kiss than before!
He should have quit while he was ahead.
He wasn't going to get to sleep with her—and hanging around with Milly was dangerous to his mental health.
Except he had such a damn good time with her, he tended to forget how frustrated he felt the minute he was leaving again.
That had to be why, three weeks later, when he and Pete and Rod were on their way to Billings, Cash found himself stopping to see her once more.
"Billings isn't far," Milly said. "Do you mind if I come with you? Then you could come back here after. Spend a day or two," she said hopefully. "If you want to."
Pete and Rod grinned at each other. "Oh, we'd love that," Rod said.
Cash glowered at them. "She isn't ridin' with you idiots." The last thing he needed was them making sly comments in front of Milly. "Can we take your car?"
Milly beamed at him. "Of course."
"Ho boy, you better watch yourself," Rod said when Milly went back inside and Cash was getting his rigging bag out of the back. "She's gonna have you roped an' tied before Christmas."
"Don't be a jerk," Cash growled. "She's a friend. That's all."
"Some friend," Pete whistled. "Wish I had me one like her."
Cash poked a finger in his face. "Don't even think it, buster."
Pete pulled his head back. He glanced at Rod, then gave Cash a quick nervous smile. "No fear."
Cash went with Milly to the rodeo in Billings. He rode well, placed in the money and felt even better about it because she was there cheering him on. "You're my lucky girl," he told her after, looping an arm over her shoulders.
Milly wrapped her arm around his waist. "I hope so."
THE COWBOY CRASHES A WEDDING Page 8
