Must Love Cowboys

by Cheryl Brooks

  Dean’s area contained a leather recliner, a small oak dresser, and a nightstand topped with a rather rustic-looking lamp. A Navajo rug lay on the floor, and the quilt covering the bed was crafted in a similar style. For the first time, I realized how little these men had. I assumed they were paid a decent wage, but their needs were obviously simple; the size of their bank accounts probably didn’t mean much to them.

  They were certainly a breed apart from any men I’d dealt with in the past. They didn’t seem ambitious or greedy, but did they dream of more? A home of their own? A family? In his letters to my grandfather, Calvin had made it clear that he’d chosen this kind of life—mainly because he’d lost the ones he loved most and couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else. However, despite his determination to avoid family ties, his illness had proven just how important those connections could be—and I had an idea he’d found another family here on the ranch. Dean was part of that family, and I didn’t want to hurt him any more than I would Calvin.

  “I didn’t know you played the guitar.”

  He shrugged. “Ever since I was a kid.”

  “Sounds pretty good.” I sat down in the recliner opposite him and leaned forward, unsure how to begin. “Talk to me, Dean. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  He strummed a few chords before he spoke, his gaze directed toward the floor. “I don’t know how I feel. Angry, maybe.” When he looked up at me, disappointment showed in his eyes, but no anger, and certainly no tears. “I probably shouldn’t be. After all, we did say no strings.”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time, didn’t it?” I paused, grimacing. “I’m not so sure anymore. This is all so new to me. You of all people should know that.”

  A tiny smile touched his lips. “Yeah. Guess it’s a good thing we never got around to using those condoms.” His eyes drifted back to mine. “You’ve never slept with a man before. Have you?”

  “Um…no. Was it that obvious?”

  “Yeah. I was kinda nervous about that,” he confided. “I’ve never done a virgin. It’s a little scary.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Imagine how it feels from my perspective.”

  “Good point. I really didn’t like the idea of hurting you.” The concern in his eyes left little doubt as to his sincerity. “Looks like Wyatt’ll be the one to do the honors.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know if that’s what he wants. He’s not what you’d call talkative. I mean, I can’t see having the kind of casual arrangement with him that you and I have.”

  “Had.”

  I eyed him curiously. “Is that it? One hint of competition from Wyatt and you’re throwing in the towel?”

  “I was never even in the ring.” He sounded more realistic than defeated, which was good in a way and really rotten in another. I tried not to think about that.

  “To be honest, I don’t even know if Wyatt’s in the ring. But I think I owe it to myself to take the time to figure it out.”

  “Well…you know where to find me if you need me.”

  Somehow, I wouldn’t have thought it would be that easy, and I still felt as though I owed him an apology. “I’m sorry, Dean. I never dreamed any of this would happen. None of it. From the moment Calvin insisted I stay for dinner, I might as well have been on another planet. And you know how it is with us aliens. We tend to make mistakes.”

  He arched a brow. “You think what we did was a mistake?”

  “No, and I don’t regret it for a second. But I do regret hurting your feelings. I never meant to do that, and no matter what happens between me and Wyatt, I want us to be friends.” The tears I’d searched for in his eyes finally welled up in my own. “I really like you guys. All of you. I’ve never had any male friends before. I was always too darn shy.”

  “Not anymore.” His wry grin gave me a glimmer of hope. “I mean, you’ve seen me naked.”

  “And you’ve had your hands on my boobs.” It was a testament to my steadily diminishing shyness that I was actually able to say that without stammering or blushing. I still had more to learn, but I’d come a long way in three days, and I’d enjoyed every minute of it.

  “Yes, I have.” His smile broadened, then slowly faded. “I’m gonna miss that.” He played an intricate riff, one I recognized. “There’s gotta be a song in there somewhere.”

  “If so, you be sure and write it. Just don’t tell everyone where your inspiration came from.”

  The wicked grin I remembered finally put in an appearance. “I’ll call it ‘She Was Almost My Fuck Buddy Sweetheart.’ Sure to be a huge hit.”

  “Don’t quit your day job yet,” I advised, laughing—with relief as much as amusement. “Speaking of jobs, I have hamburgers to grill and tomatoes to slice. Hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “What do you like on your hamburger?”

  “Lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickles.”

  “Hmm…” I tapped my chin. “Onions, huh? Kinda makes me glad I won’t be kissing you later on.”

  A wistful smile replaced his grin. “So we’re really calling it quits?”

  “I think it’s best.”

  Once again, his gaze drifted toward the floor. “Sure was fun.”

  Reaching out, I lifted his chin with a fingertip, forcing him to look at me. “Dean, those moments I spent with you were the most fun I’ve ever had, and if we’d kept on, you might’ve had the chance to use those condoms.”

  “You really mean that?”

  “Absolutely.” I wasn’t lying, either. Kissing Wyatt was thrilling, but making out with Dean was a blast.

  “They say you never forget your first fling—or is it your first love?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I won’t forget any of this, Dean. Not until I’m old and senile, and probably not even then.” Would he be content with that? Being unfamiliar with the mysteries of the male mind, I could only hope.

  I had just risen from my chair and started for the door when he began to play a long, wailing riff, complete with enough bends and sustains to satisfy the most discriminating country music fan.

  “Do me a favor?” he asked, punctuating his request with a slide. “If Wyatt’s a better kisser, don’t tell me.”

  Then again, some workings of the male mind were astonishingly transparent.

  “Fair enough.”

  * * *

  I went back out to the kitchen and started on the hamburgers, trying to focus on the job at hand rather than all the crazy emotions zinging around in my head. I’d never had a boyfriend—casual or otherwise—therefore, I’d never broken up with one man because another guy was hitting on me. What did I say to Wyatt now? All clear? I’m yours?

  For the moment, I decided it was best not to say anything. Wyatt was messing with my mind in ways I couldn’t begin to understand, or even count. Jumping into anything with him, be it my bed or whatever sort of relationship he had in mind, seemed inadvisable. I wasn’t technically brokenhearted or even on the rebound, but a slower approach was bound to be less confusing.

  Maybe.

  Wyatt at least had the good sense to leave me alone with those thoughts. Otherwise, I probably would’ve burned the burgers. I wasn’t exactly in competition with Calvin for best bunkhouse cook, but I suspected that working cowboys could be counted among the ranks of hamburger connoisseurs, unless they ate them often enough to be sick of them. Or disliked the smell of cattle enough to never want any part of them on their plates.

  Surely not…

  After only our third dinner together, the guys already seemed to be pretty well-trained. Sonny and Nick set the table without being asked, then came back to collect the serving dishes as I filled them up with fixings for the burgers. Bull hadn’t so much as stuck a finger in the cobbler.

  The mood was different, though. Calvin’s improvement should have raised their spirits—they had all seemed p
leased to hear the news—but after that, their behavior was more subdued, even somber. I doubted it was because the food tasted bad. Bull looked like he’d died and gone to heaven when he bit into his hamburger, and he didn’t mince words when it came to describing the potato salad as the “best goddamned thing I ever ate in my life.”

  “You said that about the apple pie,” Nick reminded him. “Can’t have it both ways.”

  “I sure as hell can,” Bull argued. “That pie was the best until now. I’m guessing that fuckin’ cobbler will be next.”

  “Maybe you just need to be more specific,” I suggested. “You know…the best pie or the best salad rather than the best thing.”

  “Good point,” Bull said with a nod. “I’ll do that.”

  I thought the atmosphere would lighten up some after that, but it didn’t. If anything, the guys seemed even more morose.

  “You guys are awfully quiet this evening. Anything wrong?” Dean’s silence was easily explained. It was the others who had me stumped. Even Dusty and Mr. Kincaid weren’t saying much, and I was pretty sure they didn’t know anything about the shifting interpersonal relationships.

  “No,” Nick replied. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Fences intact, cows all accounted for?”

  He helped himself to more potato salad. “No problems. Just another day on the Circle Bar K.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I’d had a pretty uneventful day myself before Wyatt showed up. Things got a lot more interesting after that.

  The subject seemed to be closed until Joe—who, being the exact opposite of Bull, rarely said anything at all—spoke up. “We, um, kinda like having you around, Tina.”

  “I see,” I said with a slow, dubious nod. “And that explains all the gloomy faces?”

  “Well, yeah,” Sonny said. “We sorta hoped you’d stay on even after Calvin came home.”

  “I already said I would. I’m sure Calvin won’t feel like doing much for a few weeks.”

  Sonny shook his head. “We meant forever. But if you aren’t gonna marry Dean, I guess there’s no reason for you to stick around.”

  Despite being rendered momentarily speechless, I was about to protest that those two outcomes weren’t mutually exclusive when Nick added, “Unless she marries Wyatt.”

  Chapter 15

  This time I really didn’t know what to say.

  Fortunately, Bull filled in the gap in the conversation. “No need for her to marry anyone. I mean, since when does our cook have to be married?”

  “Well,” Mr. Kincaid began, “seein’ as how we’ve never had a female cook before, her bein’ married couldn’t hurt.”

  If I’d taken on a permanent position, I could understand that—up to a point. But for a temporary job, I couldn’t see that it mattered. “Yeah, well, I’m not married, and I don’t plan to be anytime soon.” I couldn’t even imagine a shotgun wedding being appropriate in this situation. No doubt my father would be pleased if I decided to marry, but he certainly wouldn’t force the issue by brandishing a twelve gauge. Dean and I hadn’t done anything the average teenager wouldn’t do, and probably less than that. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who fussed at us for being too quiet,” Nick said. “We’re just spicing up the conversation.”

  I put up a hand. “Sorry I said anything. From now on, I’ll keep my mouth shut and enjoy the silence.” I’d had plenty of practice doing both of those things—as opposed to only three days worth of making small talk with a bunch of cowboys.

  Now I was stuck sitting at the table with them when all I really wanted to do was disappear—preferably through the floor. Unwilling to risk making eye contact with anyone, Dean and Wyatt in particular, I stared at my plate.

  I’d only been there for three days and they were ready to marry me off? How weird was that? On the one hand, I should be thanking my lucky stars. On the other, I ought to be running for my life.

  Or getting drunk. Maybe that was my problem. I didn’t drink enough. Didn’t loosen up enough.

  No. That wasn’t true. Comparatively speaking, I’d loosened up quite a bit, despite not having actually done the deed with a sexy cowboy. Then again, there was plenty of alcohol on hand. I’d seen beer in the fridge and tequila in the pantry—along with a bottle of rum that was dusty enough to have been hidden away in there for a very long time. Who knew what might have happened if I’d taken a shot or two for courage?

  “Can I have some cobbler now?” Bull sounded almost meek.

  “Sure. Help yourself.” I rose from the table. “I’m kinda tired. Would you guys mind cleaning up?”

  They all looked at me like I’d sprouted antlers. I’d forgotten that the dishwashing rotation was part of their routine.

  “Sure,” Joe said. “No problem.”

  Muttering my thanks, I beat a hasty retreat.

  No matter who came knocking on my door that night—and I doubted anyone would—I was not letting him in.

  * * *

  But Ophelia needed to go out.

  I wasn’t the slightest bit sleepy, despite having taken a long, hot shower and reading nearly a third of the book I’d downloaded. Figuring a bit of exercise and fresh air couldn’t hurt, I donned a jacket and went with her.

  We didn’t go far. The moon was so bright I could easily have found my way even without the security light mounted above the barn door. Ophelia trotted alongside me as I crossed the stable yard, the loose gravel crunching beneath my shoes. She was sniffing around the edge of the chicken pen when I glanced up at the open hillside.

  A beam of light caught my eye. At least I thought that’s what it was. It disappeared so quickly, I wasn’t even sure I’d seen it.

  “That’s your imagination, Tina.” Nonetheless, with all the fence cutting troubles, not to mention the movement I thought I’d seen there earlier that day, I figured I ought to tell someone.

  Great. Now I had to stick my nose in the bunkhouse and wake everybody up.

  Wake was right. I hadn’t realized how late it was. The bunkhouse windows were dark, and another security light was all that shone from the main house.

  Goose bumps prickled my nape, and I glanced over my shoulder more than once as I hurried inside, half expecting someone to pounce on me from behind. Entering through the kitchen, I passed through to the mess hall, my footsteps echoing loudly in the empty room. The door to the men’s sleeping quarters stood open. I tiptoed closer and peered inside.

  “Hey,” I stage-whispered. “Anyone awake?”

  “Yeah.” Bedsprings creaked somewhere in darkness, and a tall figure loomed against the moonlit windows. “What’s up?”

  Of course it had to be Wyatt. It couldn’t possibly have been Joe or Bull or anyone else.

  When he stepped into the mess hall, my breath caught in my throat. I’d seen him in a T-shirt and briefs before—and make no mistake, it was an impressive sight even then—but that was before I’d gotten a taste of his heart-stopping kisses and massaged those broad, muscular shoulders.

  The deep breath I took to settle my nerves didn’t completely eliminate the tremor in my voice. “I just went out with Ophelia, and I’m pretty sure I saw a light up on the hill. Might be your fence-cutting friend.”

  “Show me where.”

  He caught my arm as I started toward the kitchen.

  “Not that way,” he whispered. “Through the window.” He gestured toward the south side of the mess hall, then put a finger to his lips.

  Understanding the need for stealth, I slipped off my shoes, and we crept silently across the room. The warm pressure of his hand on the small of my back made me acutely aware that I was alone in the dark with a man clad only in his underwear—a man who’d kissed me senseless only hours before.

  Keep breathing, Tina.

  When we reached the window, I stood at an a
ngle to the pane, pointing toward the east. “There. Near the top of that hill.”

  “Hmm… No fences up there, but following that ridge is the quickest way to the road on foot.”

  “I thought I saw something moving up there this afternoon. I couldn’t tell what it was, though.”

  He nodded. “Anyone wanting to keep an eye on the place could see a helluva lot from up there.”

  “Yes, but why? I mean, I can understand why someone might want to watch what’s going on during the day, but what is there to see at night?”

  “That’s what we need to find out.”

  I stared up at him, aghast. “You’re not going out there alone, are you?”

  “Why? Would that worry you?”

  His inflection suggested he either found that idea amusing or it pleased him. I wasn’t sure which, but I saw no reason to deny my concern.

  “Of course it would.” I started to add that I didn’t think it was safe for anyone to go out alone, but his grin stopped me.

  “Yeah, well, I did say we.”

  My cheeks tingled with warmth, making me glad neither of us had turned on a light. “Yes, you did.”

  He tipped my head back with a finger beneath my chin. “Be right back.” Though brief, the kiss was astonishingly sensuous, setting off a full-body blush and a telltale ache at the apex of my thighs. “Keep a lookout for anything suspicious.”

  He’d been gone several moments before I convinced myself that continued surveillance was indeed vitally important—far more so than contemplating stolen kisses in the dark. Turning back toward the window, I gazed out into the distance.

  Wyatt returned with Nick a few minutes later, both of them carrying their boots. “Seen anything?”

  “No,” I replied. “How are you going to get out of here without anyone seeing you?” To be perfectly honest, what he’d said about what could be seen from that hilltop kinda had me spooked—especially if whoever was up there had a rifle equipped with a night-vision scope.