Once Upon a Cowboy

by Maggie McGinnis

  Children.

  Right?

  “Cole?” She hated that her voice was shaky. “Where do you see yourself in—I don’t know—ten years? Six months ago you were ready to pack up and go. Are you really sure you want to stay here now? Forever?”

  He paused for a moment, then sat back up, looking a little defeated. Guilt stabbed at her for making him feel rejected. If he only knew how much she wanted him right now, in so many ways.

  Just maybe not the ways she could deliver on.

  He picked up his hat, spun it slowly on one wrist. “Forever’s a long time. But in ten years?” He sighed. “Well, given my track record right now, I’ll probably be sitting here alone in this hayloft wondering what happened to my life.”

  “Be serious.”

  “God, Jess. I don’t know. Ideally? I guess I picture myself living here on the ranch, happily married with a bunch of kids and ponies.”

  She nodded painfully. Exactly.

  “But here’s the thing. I’ve never once felt close enough to a woman to imagine her in that picture.” He paused, lifting her chin so she had to meet his eyes. “Until you, Jess.”

  She swallowed, couldn’t speak for a moment. Then, “Why me, Cole? Why do you think I could be part of that picture?”

  He shrugged slowly. “Because you fit here—which sounds terribly romantic, right?” He smiled. “Jess, I feel like I’ve known you forever, and at the same time, I feel like you’re a mystery inside an enigma. And I’m just dying to figure you out. Damn, woman. I can’t get anything done around here this week because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  He stopped. “But I have to admit, I’m having a real tough time figuring out how you feel.” He put up his hands. “And I know this is all new, and maybe it feels strange, and maybe you’re wondering if I’m just panicking because everybody else has their futures all mapped out except for me, and I’m just grabbing for an available female, but that’s not it at all. I swear.”

  Jess let a little laugh escape. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  He reached for her hand, stroked it gently as he looked at her. “Do you trust me, Jess?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I mean really trust me. Trust that I mean what I’m saying, and that I’d never do anything to hurt you?”

  “I believe you, and I definitely believe you’d never—never mean to hurt me. But honestly? I’m a lot more worried that I’d hurt you.”

  “Not possible.”

  She blew out a breath. “You have no idea.”

  “Maybe we could give in to our smoking hot chemistry and see where things go? No pressure?”

  His voice was light, but his eyes were intense in all the best ways, and it was all Jess could do not to melt right into his body.

  He lay back against the hay, pulling her ever so gently. “Kiss me, Jess. You kiss me this time.”

  She wanted to resist, wanted to flee the hayloft as fast as her legs would take her, but as he lay there, vulnerable and so, so gorgeous, she felt herself lean toward him. Felt herself responding to the pull of his fingers, felt herself sliding her body next to his as she raised her other hand to trace the curves and lines of his face.

  Cole held still, so still, as she explored. He closed his eyes, one steady hand on her back, but not an ounce of pressure to do more, to get closer. He just let her run her fingers through his thick hair, sighed quietly as she traced one ear with her fingernail.

  He was so…beautiful. She ran her fingers down his arm, linked them with his, drew their hands between their bodies.

  And still he waited. He didn’t pull her closer, didn’t reach up to kiss her, didn’t pressure her in the slightest bit.

  She had to kiss him. There were a hundred reasons she shouldn’t, a thousand reasons she’d regret it, but right now, right here, on the hay in the moonlight with this perfect man, she couldn’t not kiss him.

  She leaned closer, touched his lips with a whisper-soft kiss, then another. His eyes fluttered open at the first, and then he smiled as she kissed him a third time. Still he lay motionless, one hand steadying her, one hand clasped with hers.

  She shifted her body, angled closer, hungered for more. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? This—this crazy desire to mesh every inch of her skin with his? This longing to have his arms encircle her and hold her tightly, to rock her against him until they could bear it no longer?

  She pulled her hand loose from his, traced his lips with her fingertips, then linked her fingers with his once more as she kissed him again. In a move so bold she hardly dared to believe it was her doing it, she pushed his hand backward beside his head, pinning it there as she shifted her body so her chest touched his.

  He groaned in response, but still let her lead. “You’re killing me, Jess.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She swore she could sense every muscle in his body holding taut, trying not to scare her.

  “I’m happy to die, if this is what death looks like.”

  She pulled away and his eyes opened, his arm still steady around her back. “Kiss me, Cole. Please.”

  “I’m perfectly happy just like this.” He reached up to brush hair away from her face. “I could stay here forever like this and be perfectly happy.”

  “I want you to.”

  He nodded, his eyes intense. “I will stop whenever you say so. You call the shots here, Jess.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it. I need to be sure you know that.”

  “I do. I know.” She drew his hand to her mouth, kissed his palm, and he groaned as he pulled her closer.

  When his lips touched hers this time, it was all she could do not to moan in pleasure. They were sure but gentle, demanding in the hottest, most tempting way. She shifted upward, then slid to sit at his waist, her legs on either side of his body, her fingers intertwined with his. As she pushed his hands downward on either side of his head, she felt his hips respond by rising toward her.

  His mouth opened under hers, and she felt herself sinking deeper, deeper into the kiss as their bodies found a sweet, slow rhythm. He pulled his hands loose, slid them slowly up her thighs and around to the back. He held gentle pressure, the movements of his tongue reflecting those of his body as he stroked and caressed her.

  His hands slid upward, under her dress, calloused roughness on her smooth skin, and she sighed against his mouth. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, his hands circling upward, downward, making her catch her breath as she tried to deal with the dizzying sensations.

  For the first time in her life, she felt a slow upward spiraling as he touched her. She pressed closer as he squeezed her, she sighed into his mouth as his thumbs grazed her breasts. So this is what it was supposed to be like. This is what it felt like to be cherished, to be held like precious glass.

  He rocked her sideways, held her head as he lay her on her back this time, ran his fingers through her hair and down her jaw as he kissed her. He was close—so close his heat was hers. His touches were gentle, skittering over her skin and leaving it tingly and burning at the same time.

  He slowly, so slowly unbuttoned one jeweled button on the dress, and though she expected it to panic her, all she felt was desire. He unbuttoned a second, and then a third, placing kisses up her jawline, rendering her unable to even think for the sensations flying through her body.

  But then he released the fourth button.

  And slid his hand slowly under her dress, onto her stomach.

  In what seemed like a single movement, she clamped her hand on top of his, pulled the dress closed, and wriggled away from him. Oh God. Oh no.

  “Jess?” He reached a hand out to touch her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  God. If he only knew. If only she could tell him. She was supposed to be telling him.

  “I—I have to go. I should go. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “Hey.” He sat up beside her. “What happened?” His voice was so gentle that it made her want to
cry, but all she could do was try to pick the hay out of her hair and redo her buttons, while trying to quiet her raggedy breathing.

  “I’m sorry, Cole. I—I just can’t do this. It’s not fair to you.”

  “How is this not fair to me?”

  “It just isn’t. I don’t think I can explain it.”

  He studied her, and with his hair all mussed up and his eyes still smoky hot, it was all she could do not to lay him back down and kiss him into next week.

  “We can stop, Jess.” His voice was quiet, reminding her of the one he’d used with the scared woman last week. “We can absolutely stop.”

  “I know. I know we can. God, Cole. Why are you so—”

  He put his hands up, and she hated the hurt that crossed his face. “Why am I so what?”

  “So—God—so…perfect.” Jess tried not to let the tears boiling behind her eyes escape. “You’re so damn perfect.”

  He smiled sadly. “Then I don’t see the problem.”

  She stood up, unsteady. “I promise, you’ll thank me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. I just need to—go. Just for a while. I don’t know.”

  “Don’t run, Jess. Please don’t run.”

  He reached out for her, and it took every fiber in her body not to lean back toward him and melt into his chest. “Don’t go, cowgirl. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. We can fix it.”

  “We can’t fix this, Cole. It’s bigger than both of us, I promise.”

  “Impossible. Nothing’s that big.”

  Jess took a deep breath, trying to let it out slowly. Instead, her body shook. She couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t follow him up to a hayloft, touch him, kiss him, want him—and then leave him with no explanation. It was cruel. He’d done nothing to deserve it.

  “I’m sorry, Cole. I never should have come up here with you. I never should have kissed you. I never should have—”

  “Never should have what?” His voice was hurt, choked, tender.

  Never should have fallen in love with you.

  Chapter 26

  “Never should have what, Jess?” He sat still, so still, just waiting for her to answer.

  “I never should have pretended to be something I’m not.”

  He shook his head, confusion making his eyebrows draw together. “I don’t understand. How have you pretended to be something you’re not?”

  “I’m not—not really who you think I am.”

  “Don’t go.” He patted the hay bale. “Sit with me. I won’t touch you, I won’t kiss you, I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. But please, Jess. Please just tell me what has you ready to run right now.”

  She took another deep breath. When she’d made up the first lie thirteen years ago, how could she have possibly realized her life would come to a moment like this?

  She was sick of the lies. Sick of the truth eating at the edges of her life. Sick of wondering when it was all going to catch up with her, define her again—kill her again and again and again like it had the first time.

  She had to tell him.

  “Okay.” She sat down gingerly, carefully making sure her thighs didn’t touch his. “Cole, the life you envision for yourself—the life you’re meant to have—I could never be part of that in the way that you want. I can’t give you the things you deserve, the things you need.”

  “How—what?” He shook his head. “No.”

  She put up a finger to pause him. It was now or never. “I didn’t grow up in a mansion or in an old plantation house, Cole. I grew up on the way-way wrong side of the tracks in a little dumpy town west of Charleston. I lived in a trailer park with—my mother. And my aunt. And various and sundry men, at various and sundry times.

  “A lot of really awful stuff happened there, and I’m not sure I’ve ever quite gotten over it. Despite my best efforts to leave it all behind, I’m carrying the kind of baggage I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. It is certainly baggage I wouldn’t wish upon someone like you.”

  “I’m not afraid of baggage, Jess.” His voice was soft, soothing.

  “You say that, but this baggage”—her voice trailed off—“this kind of baggage doesn’t go away.”

  “Jess.” He reached out, and she could see pain in his eyes. And she had caused it. It made her feel sick all over again. “Whatever it is, it won’t scare me off. I promise you that. There is nothing you could tell me right now that would send me running.”

  “You don’t know that.” Her voice was now a choked whisper. Oh God. Could she really do this?

  “I do know that.” He pulled back his hand, clenched it in his other. “I love you, dammit. I’ve loved you since I don’t even know when, and nothing you say right now can possibly change that.”

  Jess felt tears slide onto her cheeks. It was now or never. She hated to do this to him, hated to ruin his rosy misconception that no matter what, he could handle all that she came with. But she’d gone this far. She needed to tell him.

  She braced herself, took another breath, and slowly pulled open the top of her dress. “Cole, this is the kind of baggage I come with.”

  His eyes held hers for a long moment before he looked down. When he did, she bit her lips hard enough to draw blood as she watched his eyes trace the scars, watched his mouth tighten as he swallowed hard.

  “Who did this to you?” She could hear bristling anger under his ragged whisper.

  She pulled her dress closed again. “My mother. And my aunt. This is why detention was preferable to coming home.”

  And why Billy was preferable to coming home.

  Cole stood up, hands suddenly balled into fists as he paced the floor in front of her. “When?”

  “For years.” She wished her voice could sound stronger, but it seemed to be disappearing as she sat there. “It started when I was little.”

  “Did anyone know?”

  “Not until a long time in. And by that time, it was just my reality, you know? I only knew what happened inside my walls, such as they were.”

  He stopped pacing and turned to her. “This is why you shy away when I touch you?”

  “Yes. No.” She took a deep, shaky breath. She’d gone this far. She had to tell him the rest. “It’s not the whole story.”

  He sat back down beside her, but she could’ve sworn he was made of live, snapping, zapping wires right now. It looked as if every fiber in his body was tense, ready to spring—and she didn’t know quite what to make of it.

  “Tell me, Jess. Tell me the rest.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I had a boyfriend. At the time, I thought he was my salvation. Or—better than being at home, at least. For a while, anyway. But then things changed. He changed.”

  —

  “How do I know you’re not gonna go running to the police as soon as I let you out of here?” Billy’s voice was a snarl, his hand a vice as he held her wrist in his tiny excuse for a kitchen.

  “I’m not. I won’t. I promise.”

  He cocked his head, dark eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. You play all badass, Star, but inside, maybe you’re just a little narc waiting for a chance.”

  “Stop it, Billy. Not true. I won’t tell anybody.” Because as soon as you let go of me, I’m outta here. Outta this apartment, outta this town. First bus to anywhere. I don’t even care anymore.

  “Maybe you need a little reminder what will happen if you breathe a word?”

  “No!” Star’s free arm went to her stomach, protective. “Let me go!”

  His eyes suddenly went suspicious, and she dropped her arm. Oh, no. Oh, hell no. He poked her stomach, hard, and she clenched her lips, determined not to let on.

  Determined not to let on that there was a tiny baby in there, a teeny tiny spark of hope that was the only reason she hadn’t chosen to do something desperate.

  “What the hell, Star? You knocked up?” He poked her again, and she couldn’t help but put her hand out in defense.

 
“Stop it. Stop, Billy. Just let me go. I want to go home.”

  “Right. You ain’t never wanted to go home before. What’s waiting there for you besides a liquored-up whore who don’t care whether you come home tonight or next week? Or never?”

  Star bit her lip. Nothing. Nothing was waiting for her, and he damn well knew it.

  “Answer my question.” He lifted her chin with an angry finger. “You pregnant?”

  She didn’t know what to do. Either way, she was doomed. Finally she nodded.

  “Not funny, Star.” Billy’s dark eyes bored into hers as his huge hand clamped her wrist harder.

  “I’m not joking, Billy.” She shook her arm with false bravado. “And let go.”

  “How the hell did you let this happen?”

  “Seriously? I just called up the stork and asked for a baby. How do you think it happened?”

  He shook his head, face going dark, angry.

  She braced herself.

  “It ain’t mine.”

  “Of course it’s yours.”

  “Prove it.”

  “I can’t prove it, Billy. But I’ve never been with anybody else. You know that.”

  He pushed out his chin, narrowed his eyes. Shit. She knew what was coming next. She shook her arm again, but it only made him hold her more tightly.

  “Come on, Billy. Cut it out.”

  “You trying to saddle me with an effing kid? It’s not 1950, princess. That ain’t how it’s done.”

  “I’m not trying to saddle you. It happened. I don’t know how. We’ve always been careful.” And I wasn’t even going to tell you. I was going to get out of this hellhole and never tell you.

  He twisted her arm, making her wince. But she didn’t cry out. This time she didn’t cry.

  “You need to take care of it. I’m not having no baby mama in my life.”

  “I will take care of it. Don’t worry about it. I’ll raise her myself.”

  “Her?” His sneer was so ugly she just wanted to slap his face. But she would never, ever do that.

  She put her free hand to her stomach. “Or him. I don’t know, obviously.”