A Christmas Cowboy to Keep

by Hebby Roman

  “Excuse me,” he said and quickly stepped away from Tina, Ollie, and Celeste.

  He returned to the bar, ordered another gin and tonic, then carried the excuse to Skye and her new tablemates.

  He handed the drink to her. “I thought you might need a new one.”

  She glanced at him in surprise. “Thanks.” Her voice held all the enthusiasm of thanking the dentist for a root canal.

  “Joe Carrigan?” Anderson stood and reached out a hand.

  Shaking it, Joe said, “It’s nice to see you again, Mark.”

  “Are you here with Skye?”

  “Guilty as charged.” Joe took the cue to grab the seat beside his date, whether she acknowledged it or not.

  Skye wrinkled her brow and said under her breath, “I figured you’d be sitting with Ollie and Celeste and your girlfriend.”

  “I’m not the kind of guy to abandon my date,” he replied quietly, although Anderson was no longer paying attention to either of them since the waiter was depositing a basket of rolls onto the table.

  “We both know I’m not your date.”

  Joe leaned close. “That’s where you’re wrong, Skylar.”

  “Joe,” Anderson said, turning back to him. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Paula.”

  It was the best news he’d heard all night. Smiling broadly, he rose slightly from his seat and reached over to clasp her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  * * *

  Skye was headed to the ladies’ room when Celeste caught up and hooked an arm with hers.

  “What’s going on, Skye?” she asked as they made their way into the bathroom lounge.

  “What do you mean?” Skye sank onto one of the couches and popped off her painful shoes, then wiggled her toes.

  “Carrigan didn’t leave your side all through dinner. What am I supposed to tell Tina?”

  “I have no idea,” she replied wearily, leaning her head against the cushion and closing her eyes. She was as confounded by Carrigan’s behavior as Celeste, and she was reaching her limit of friendly small talk with the man. It only made her want him more.

  She considered confiding in Celeste her true feelings, but it would put her friend in an awkward position because of Tina.

  Someone burst into the lounge. “Skye, why didn’t you tell us?”

  Her mother.

  Skye cracked an eye open. “Tell you what?”

  “About you inheriting the Pendleton Ranch.” Olivia Mallory stood with hands on hips.

  Skye cast a condemning look at Celeste.

  “I didn’t tell,” Celeste exclaimed. “I promise.”

  “Mrs. Archibald told me,” her mother replied. “She knows someone who works at the courthouse, and you of all people should know that when a will enters probate it can be viewed by the public.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Skye sat up and started jamming her feet back into her shoes.

  “Is it true?” her mom asked.

  Skye stood. “Yes.”

  Her mom’s gaze softened. “That’s incredible. I can’t believe Charlotte would do that.”

  Skye reached out to squeeze her mom’s arm. “I know. I’m still a little stunned by the gesture.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’m meeting with her attorney on Monday.”

  “So that’s why you came down out-of-the-blue?”

  “Yes. I just learned of it a few days ago.”

  Her mom paused, giving her a knowing look. “You’re thinking of keeping it, aren’t you?”

  And that was the truth of it. Skye didn’t just want to manage the place; she wanted to move in and make a life here. At first, she thought her ambivalence over the decision was because she’d be living next door to her folks, but that wouldn’t be a hardship. In fact, it would be kind of nice.

  No, the crux of the issue lay in the fact that the Three C also bordered the property. Joe Carrigan would be her neighbor.

  Damn the man.

  Now what was she supposed to do? Bear witness while he married and had a houseful of little Carrigans?

  Frustration pushed her temper to a boiling point. When had she become one of those women who let her life be dictated by the whims of a man? Who the hell was Carrigan to keep her from coming home if that’s what she wanted?

  Goddamn the man.

  Chapter Eight

  Joe scanned the crowded dance floor. Where was she?

  A merry melee of couples crowded before him, tuxedos and gowns of various lengths all meshed together beneath a flashing disco ball.

  He caught sight of Tina three tables over. He spun around and headed in the opposite direction, and spied Skye at the bar.

  He came up behind her and leaned his mouth close to her ear. “You can’t keep avoiding me.”

  She jumped. “My God. You’re so quiet. What are you? An assassin?”

  “Just a cowboy. How about a dance?”

  She didn’t exactly agree but didn’t resist when he placed a hand on her lower back and guided her to the dance floor. Once they infiltrated the throng of couples clinging to one another as they swayed to Frank Sinatra, Skye turned to him, her face a blank mask. He folded her hand into his and wrapped his other arm around her, enjoying her proximity. Spending time with her hadn’t unfolded as organically as he’d hoped, since she’d managed to avoid him for large chunks of the evening.

  “Did seeing Anderson make you feel like you were at prom again?” he asked, trying to ignore the cleavage teasing his senses and the heady scent reminding him of wildflowers.

  She shrugged. “He’s doing well, of which I’m glad, and his wife is very lovely.”

  She wouldn’t look at him, her countenance as icy as a frozen lake.

  “Am I missing something here?” he asked.

  “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

  “I was hoping to spend some time with you.”

  Putting distance between them, she raised her chin and locked eyes with him. “Are you now? What a piece of work you are, Carrigan.”

  Her anger ignited the small space between them.

  “Why do you say that?” He pressed his hand against her back to keep her from walking away, because one thing was certain—she was about ready to bolt.

  “I’m tired of being at your beck and call.” Her voice seethed in a furious whisper. “You rejected me all those years ago, and now you’re just stringing me along again. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t keep treating me like some consolation prize and expect me to put up with it.”

  Taken aback by her outburst, he attempted to regroup. “I’m not stringing you along.”

  “I can’t do this anymore.” She tried to leave again, but he held fast to her. “I can’t be your friend,” she bit out, her voice still lowered so as not to attract attention. “I’ve tried. It’s too difficult.”

  The shadow of pain in her eyes brought him up short.

  He’d had no idea how much he had screwed up until this instant.

  He grabbed her hand and led her out of the ballroom as Brenda Lee started singing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” His grip firm, he wasn’t about to let her go. At least not until he said his piece. He continued through the well-lit but mostly empty lobby, weaving around a couch and chair.

  He continued down a hallway toward the men’s locker room.

  When she realized his intent, she stopped and yanked on his hand. “Where are we going?”

  “Trust me.” He pushed open the door and peeked inside. “All clear.”

  They needed privacy, and it was too cold to go outside.

  Country club restroom facilities were nothing if not spacious. He took her through the lounge and pulled her around the corner to a dark side hallway, out of view should any gentlemen enter, and positioned her against the wall.

  He looked down at her. “I need to explain something,” he said, his lips mere inches from hers.
“That night when you kissed me—”

  “We don’t need to relive the past.”

  He placed his other hand against the wall, boxing her in. “I told you that night that I wasn’t interested.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I know. I was there.”

  “It wasn’t the truth.”

  She cast her eyes downward, pinching her lips in an angry line.

  “I did want you, Skye,” he admitted. “But there were so many reasons why it wasn’t a good idea.”

  “I’m so glad we’re clearing this up.” She tried to leave but he pressed closer, stopping her.

  “You were my best friend’s sister, I was about to move away, and I didn’t want to treat you like the other girls.”

  “You mean the ones that you did kiss.”

  He stared at her mouth. “And you were so out of my league,” he admitted, the truth slipping through the last of his defenses against her. He had never admitted this to anyone, least of all himself, until this moment.

  “You don’t have to justify to me why there was no spark between us.”

  He cupped her face with his hands. “There was most definitely a spark and now it’s a full-blown inferno, and I’m done being careful around you.”

  * * *

  Skye stopped breathing as Carrigan’s mouth crushed hers, his breath hot and his lips hungry. He tasted of whiskey and his skin smelled of aftershave, and her body and willpower succumbed quickly. She’d spent years dreaming of what he might taste like, how his cheeks would feel beneath her fingertips, and now that it was here she wasn’t going to waste a minute.

  She slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer as his tongue made a clean sweep of her mouth. Her body arched against his, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

  His arms wrapped around her and his hands pressed her hips against his arousal, sending rockets of pleasure clear down to her toes. He strengthened his assault with his mouth and her knees buckled. She hung onto him as if she were sliding off a cliff.

  The wall bumped her from behind as he kissed her again, soundly, his hands palming her buttocks, and she nearly came right then. She tore her mouth from his to catch her breath, to somehow get this fire under control, but Carrigan’s demanding lips went to her neck, sucking and biting as he headed south. Lust flashed through her like wildfire.

  Carrigan wanted her. And she had always wanted him.

  Good God. There was no doubt in her mind that she was about to have sex standing up in the men’s locker room.

  She grabbed onto his shoulders as his mouth and hands tortured her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her breath came in ragged gasps and she moaned.

  His face came to hers again. “Skye.” The heat in his voice wrecked any remaining defenses she might have had against him.

  Her breath mingled with his. He held her face and gave her another deep, devastating kiss. With her body trembling, she took hold of his jacket and yanked it from his shoulders.

  Male voices beyond startled her, and Carrigan broke the kiss. He leaned over her, protecting her, while Skye sought to remain quiet as her chest heaved up and down as if she’d been sprinting.

  He rubbed against her as his lips trailed down her cheek, sending delicious shivers through her, her breasts reacting to the contact despite the clothing separating them.

  Carrigan’s mouth came to her ear. “I don’t have any protection,” he said, his voice husky and full of need. And regret.

  She reached up and raked her fingers down his cheek, then ran her thumb across his lower lip. “It’s alright,” she whispered. “I’ve got it covered.”

  She’d remained on contraception out of habit, although it had been many weeks since the last unremarkable encounter with Dingbat Dave. But now, she was glad for her attention to routine. She didn’t want anything to stop what was about to happen between her and Carrigan.

  He kissed her slowly, quietly, since they weren’t alone, as his hand cupped her breast.

  Another upwelling of pleasure threatened to cascade right out of her body.

  If Carrigan kept this up, she’d cross the finish line before he even had her undressed. Thankfully, his mouth absorbed the groan that almost escaped her throat. Then his lips moved to her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, and back to the swell of cleavage now barely contained by her old dress.

  She ran her fingers through his hair again, clutching onto him.

  The men finally left, and Skye released a gasp, having held it in check while Carrigan had managed to wrench the dress down from her shoulders, exposing her breasts, and he’d gone to work silently torturing each nipple with his mouth.

  But the more he tugged, the less she could move her arms, the gown becoming a straitjacket, leaving her breasts exposed as if on display at a buffet, flushed and glistening from Carrigan’s attention.

  “I want you,” she said, “but I can’t move.”

  He paused, his face buried in her bosom, and looked up at her, his gaze wild and unfocused.

  She tried to raise her arms, but she was like a Tyrannosaurus rex with tiny, useless limbs.

  He stood and tried to return the dress back to its original position, but her breasts stubbornly refused to pop back into the fabric where they belonged.

  “Wait,” she said and turned slightly. “Try to release the zipper.”

  He tugged and jerked and then tugged again, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “You’ll have to break it,” she said.

  “Won’t that ruin the dress?”

  “I think you’ve already managed to do that.” She readied herself. “Go ahead.”

  She swung her girls, perky and alert, away from his view because he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off them.

  “I’m not sure we should ruin your dress,” he uttered, his lips on her shoulder. “How will I get you out of here looking like this?”

  “Very carefully,” she said over her shoulder. “You could tell everyone I’m a stripper.”

  Carrigan’s deep chuckle only made her nipples pucker more. “You’d sure give those old codgers something to talk about tomorrow.”

  With one hard yank, the zipper gave way and the dress released, now hanging at her waist. His hands came around her and pressed her backside against his very prominent arousal. She braced her hands on the wall as another wave of desire slammed into her.

  “You look even better than you did in high school,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

  His hands moved upward, and she shuddered.

  Panting, she leaned her forehead against the wall. “We need to be quick.”

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, holding her against him. He bit the skin along her neck, igniting gooseflesh.

  “Yes.”

  Although the zipper on her dress was now open, it was still jammed at the bottom, making it impossible for her to push it past her hips. It was just as well. Standing completely naked in the men’s locker room probably wasn’t a good idea. She hiked the skirt up, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and in one motion she gave Carrigan full access.

  He rested a hand on her bare bottom. “Don’t move,” he growled.

  She peeked over her shoulder as he dropped his pants, and then she leaned back against him. It was delicious and exciting, a dream that she’d had for so long that she could hardly believe it was happening.

  “Skylar, you’re killing me,” he hissed.

  She arched her back to make it easier for him. He paused and pushed slowly to join with her.

  Damn his restraint.

  Impatient, she made a backward thrust and captured the complete length of him.

  The locker room door opened again, and once more two men entered, chatting with each other.

  Carrigan went still. As she tried to remain unmoving and silent, her leg muscles began to burn. Carrigan shifted slightly and one hand grasped a breast while the other went south,
and she was forced to sink her teeth into her forearm to stop the cry that was clawing its way from her chest.

  He began to withdraw and reenter slowly, and she closed her eyes, trying to keep her release at bay, at least until they were alone again.

  She heard the faucet go on and off, and finally the men’s voices faded as they exited into the hallway and departed.

  Please no more interruptions.

  Carrigan didn’t waste any time. He thrust hard, and on the third one, he had her. His arms gripped her in a vice as his own violent release overtook him, and she rode the waves that rocked her while reveling in his response.

  Awash in the primal aftermath, Skye’s thoughts were swimming in a haze of ecstasy. She rested her forehead against the wall as she sought to regain her breath.

  Every nerve ending in her body was humming, and when he withdrew from her, she was still too blown away to do anything but hold up the wall.

  “Stay put.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

  Skye glanced down at herself and almost laughed at her appearance.

  Carrigan had really done a number on her dress, but in her high heels her wantonness was rather heady. At least she could now check sex kitten off her to-do list. She had begun to worry that she was destined to be a stodgy lawyer for the rest of her life.

  With shaky hands, she repositioned the lower portion of her clothing and then looped her arms into the sleeves and held the fabric over her chest.

  Carrigan reappeared, his pants secure and his blue shirt tucked right where it should be. But the wicked grin he gave her put her in mind of a rogue pirate instead of a well-dressed cowboy. He handed her a moistened hand towel.

  “Thank you.” But she couldn’t perform a proper clean-up on herself with only one hand free, and truthfully, she didn’t want to remove Carrigan’s mark from her just yet. “But what I really want is a pizza. I think you knocked out my blood sugar.” So much for witty after-sex banter.

  He stepped behind her and took hold of the gaping backside of the dress and was able to secure the hook at the top, but the zipper was uncooperative. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Skye, but first we’re going to have to get you out of here without ruining your reputation.” He ran his fingers along her still exposed back, and she shivered. He pulled her hair to the side and gave her a quick kiss to her exposed neck. “I think this dress is done for.”