How the Cowboy Was Won

by Lori Wilde

Ember focused on every little thing about him. Each touch. Each kiss. Each sound. Each smell.

  In making love to Ranger, she felt as if the world had cracked right open and unfolded into a new and exciting territory she hadn’t even known existed. Mundane life gave way to magic and she bathed in it. She felt fairy-dusted, light and beautiful and at the same time grounded and earthy, sexy and horny, revered and ravaged.

  They took the normal precautions. Ranger got up at one point to retrieve condoms, but they felt so safe with each other, it seemed there was hardly any need, she was on birth control pills after all. She confessed she hadn’t been with anyone since Trey, and he reminded her he hadn’t had sex since he’d broken up with Tonya two years ago, about the same time Ember had started dating her ex.

  “We’re a couple of weirdos,” she said.

  “I like to think we finally got our timing right.”

  “If you haven’t had sex since Tonya, how old are those condoms?”

  “I bought them before I came looking for you tonight.”

  “Feeling that sure of yourself?” she murmured.

  “I was going to do my best to convince you.”

  “I’m so glad you did,” she whispered.

  He pressed his face into her hair, took a deep breath, and murmured her name like a prayer.

  Her head hummed so loudly!

  And when they were at last joined, her entire body hummed with the beat of him. There was no awkwardness between them. She was wide open and totally vulnerable, and yet it felt so right. Safe. She felt safe with him in a way she’d not ever felt totally safe in bed with any man.

  Need claimed them both.

  They rocked together, shooting for the stars, clinging to each other, breathing hard. It was everything she’d ever dreamed it would be and more. So much more.

  She cried out first, reaching her peak, but he tumbled soon after, calling her name, holding her close. She shivered. He shuddered. They gasped. Rasped. Drifted.

  When they finally caught their breath, he pulled her to his chest and combed his fingers through her hair, petting her as if she were a precious commodity.

  “You’ve got the cutest orgasm face.” He chuckled as if he’d just taken a ride on his favorite roller coaster, pushing the tip of her nose with his index finger as if pushing a button to make the ride start up again.

  She splayed a hand over her nose and eyes. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

  “I’m not. I mean it. You are something else, Sparky.”

  Heat warmed her cheeks and she curled into his side, inhaled the potency of his sex. God, he smelled so good.

  “Hey,” he murmured. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Got anything to eat?”

  “Fruit,” she said. “And chocolate sauce.”

  He rubbed his palms together. “Now we’re talking. You hang loose. I’ll go get the food.”

  “Ranger?”

  He stopped at the door, turned, looked back at her. “What is it, Sparky?”

  “You are a thoughtful lover.”

  He laughed, delighted. “Meaning?”

  “You took your time and . . . well . . . I just wanted you to know that’s the first time I ever had an orgasm without my trusty vibrator.”

  He clutched both hands to his heart, staggered back as if Cupid’s arrow had shot him through the heart. “Honey, that was just round one, and you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Chapter 20

  “She was one of those, who, having, once begun, would be always in love.”

  —Jane Austen, Emma

  They sat up in bed naked, feeding each other fruit dipped in chocolate sauce and talking about so many things—the adventures they’d had as kids, their families, the things they’d done in the past year they’d been apart. He regaled her with tales of New Zealand, and she recounted hilarious homebuyer stories.

  “So now that the film is finished, Luke should be doling out the endowment to the observatory. That’s good,” she said. “You’re one step closer to getting your dream job.”

  “Yeah, I hope so. I can’t shake the feeling that Wes was using the competition between me and Sheila to pry the money out of Luke.”

  “You don’t think Wes is going to give you the job?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  If Ranger didn’t get the job, that meant he’d take the position in New Zealand. Her pulse quickened. If that happened, what did that mean for their future? She was afraid to ask. Afraid to ruin this awesome night with questions that could wait until another day.

  “Here you go.” Ember speared a slice of honeydew melon with her fork, dipped it in melted chocolate, and held it out to him.

  He opened his mouth to take the bite, but a drop of chocolate dribbled on his chin.

  “Wait, wait,” she said. “I’ll get it.” She leaned in and licked his chin.

  “I love how outrageous you are.” He laughed a low husky sound. “No one in my life is as fun as you.”

  “Right back at you, big guy.”

  He tickled her lightly in the ribs. She giggled and tickled him back.

  “I’m not ticklish,” he said staunchly.

  “Oh, you liar,” she said, and tickled him until he flipped her on her back and pinned her down, wrists over her head.

  She stared up into him. “That was a sexy move.”

  “Oh yeah?” His eyes sparkled like starlight. “I’ve got more moves like that up my sleeve.”

  “I can’t wait to see them.”

  “Pace yourself,” he said. “It’s a long time until dawn.”

  “Ooh, we’re going to stay up all night?” She snuggled closer to him.

  He relocated the fruit bowl and chocolate to the bedside table, plumped up the pillows against the headboard, and tugged her into his arms. They sat side by side, surrounded by pillows. “You bet your sweet butt. This is the first time we’re doing this. We’re going to make it last.”

  “I ever tell you that I like the way you think, Lockhart?”

  “Ditto.”

  “It’s nice,” she said. “Already knowing so much about each other. We don’t have to play games.”

  “Ah damn,” he said. “I was looking forward to playing pin the tail on the—”

  She tickled him again.

  “You wanna get flipped?”

  “I’m not opposed.” She wriggled her eyebrows.

  “Settle down, Sparky. We’ll get there.” He slung his arm around her shoulders, and ruffled her hair with his palm.

  “I forgot how you like to take your time.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Sometimes faster is better.”

  “Sometimes it’s not.”

  “You know, if things go too slowly, I’m in danger of falling asleep.”

  “Calling my bluff?”

  “You’re the gambler,” she said. “You tell me.”

  He leaned in to kiss her again, and she was getting all wrapped up in the humming when something jostled the bed.

  “What the hell?” Ranger asked, and they both startled.

  Samantha leaped up on the mattress between them, gave Ranger a dirty look, and meowed.

  “If you’re here to protect my honor,” he told the cat, “you’re too late. Ember has already deflowered me.”

  Ember playfully swatted his shoulder. “You big doofus. You’re in her spot.”

  “Well, excuse me, Miss Samantha.” He wriggled closer to Ember, leaving a berth for the tabby.

  “She sleeps with me every night.”

  “I think I’m jealous.”

  Samantha kneaded his leg with her paws.

  “Now I’m the jealous one.” Ember got up and snapped her fingers, pointed at the door. “Out Miss S.”

  Samantha rolled over on her back, gave Ranger a pleading look. Smart cat. She knew who was the soft touch.

  “We could go somewhere else,” he offered. “Leave Miss S to the bed.”

 
“Spoiled cat.” Ember scratched the tabby behind the ears, setting off a purr-fest. “Where shall we go?”

  “Your couch is pretty comfy,” he said. “And might set us up for some interesting positions.”

  “I like the way you think, Professor. Grab the pillows, and we’ll leave Miss S to her beauty rest.”

  They trooped into the living room. The blinds were open, and moonlight spilled across the couch. He plunked down, took her hand, and hauled her into his lap. “Anyone every tell you that you look beautiful in moonlight?”

  “Corny.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Truth.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you look beautiful naked?”

  “All the time,” he teased.

  “I’m always the last to know.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s better to be last.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because last is now.”

  “Good point.”

  He rubbed his thumb across her chin. “I remember how you got that scar. First grade, monkey bars.”

  “I challenged you to a chin-up competition.”

  “I won,” he pointed out.

  “Only because I busted my chin and the teacher made me quit because I was bleeding all over the monkey bars.”

  “They took the monkey bars out of school because of you.”

  “I have a way of ruining things for other people.”

  “That’s bullshit. You do not.”

  “Seems like it.” She reached for his right thumb. “What about this?”

  “Oh yeah.” He ran his index finger over the scar at the pad of his thumb. “You still remember that?”

  “How could I forget?” she said, old guilt jabbing into her fresh and new. “I caused that too.”

  “Not really. We can blame it on Lucy.”

  “Lucy blamed me for sure.”

  “She was pissed.” Ranger chuckled. “I’d never seen her so angry, and she got pretty mad at Duke on a regular basis.”

  The memory floated up to Ember as vivid as the day it happened. It was one of the defining moments of her life, and a major ding in her psyche that had come full circle the day Trey told her so bluntly—You’re an unlovable freak.

  She and Ranger had been ten years old when it happened, and he’d been recovering from heart surgery to repair damage caused by the rheumatic fever stemming from unchecked scarlet fever he’d had when he was a toddler.

  Ember’s mother had actually been the one to recognize that the boy had scarlet fever after his mother had left and before Duke had married Lucy. Ranger and Ridge had been left in the care of a string of underqualified nannies. If Bridgette Alzate hadn’t taken Ranger to the doctor when she had, he very well could have died.

  On that fateful day, Ranger had been trying to keep up with schooling from his sick bed and Ember, as she did every afternoon, dropped by the mansion with his homework.

  “You’re the only one who comes to visit every day,” Ranger had said. “Even my own brothers avoid coming in here.” He’d glanced out the window where they could see one of the corrals where Rhett and Remington were roping a bronze steer head mounted to a bale of hay, Ridge giving them the lessons.

  “That’s ’cause I’m closer to you than your brothers,” Ember had said, crawling up to sit cross-legged at the end of his mattress.

  “Too bad you can’t be my brother,” he mumbled.

  “Well, I’m a girl, so that’s out . . .”

  “I don’t think of you as a girl,” Ranger said. “You’re not prissy and giggly like most girls.”

  “You mean like Aria?”

  “I don’t want to say bad things about your sister, but kinda, yeah.” He’d grinned and she’d grinned back.

  “You know,” she said. “There’s a way we could be kin.”

  “How’s that?” He straightened up against the pillow, winced, and placed a hand to his chest.

  “You okay?” She’d scooted closer.

  He scowled, and she knew it was because he hated looking weak. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

  “Blood brothers.”

  “Or in this case, blood siblings?” He’d been so smart, even back then. His bedroom was packed with books.

  “Yeah,” she said, and slipped her pocketknife from her pocket. “That.” She glanced around the room. “We need a bowl.”

  “What kind of bowl?”

  “This’ll do.” She somersaulted off the bed and retrieved the yellow plastic emesis basin that had come home from the hospital with him. Bounced back onto the mattress beside him.

  Ranger eyed the knife with curiosity. “How do you know so much about blood brothers . . . um . . . blood siblings?”

  Ember tossed her flame-colored hair over her shoulder. “Don’t let the hair fool you. I’m half Apache.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’ve seen you on the warpath.”

  She playfully punched him on the shoulder. “Do you want to do this or not?”

  “Sure.”

  She reached out her hand. “Give me your thumb.”

  Trusting her completely, Ranger had given her his hand.

  She opened the blade.

  “Do we need to say something?” Ranger asked. “A ritual?”

  “You’re gettin’ ahead of me.” She positioned his hand over the emesis basin, stared him in the eyes. “Do you, Ranger Lockhart, vow a solemn oath to this bond between us that runs deeper than brother and sister?”

  Ranger’s eyes locked on hers. “Yes,” he declared without an ounce of hesitation.

  Ember pressed the tip of her knife into his thumb, meaning to make only the smallest of cuts, just enough to coax out a drop of blood, but at the same moment she pushed the knife against Ranger’s skin, Lucy had come barreling through the door without knocking. A tray of lemonade and chocolate-chip cookies in her hand.

  Lucy had taken one look at the wild red-haired girl child about to carve up her ailing stepson, and she’d let out a curdling scream and dropped the tray. Shattering and clattering plates and glasses.

  Startled, Ember had slipped, the knife plunging deep into the pad of Ranger’s thumb and coming out through his nail on the other side.

  Blood bloomed, pouring into the cheerful yellow emesis basin.

  Ranger let out a stoic grunt. Ember jerked the knife out, embedded deeply in the wound. More blood flowed. Lucy yelled. Grabbed Ember by her collar. Propelled her through the house and literally threw her out the back door.

  “You wicked, wicked girl!” Lucy scolded, standing on the back porch, her hands on her hips, the afternoon sun shining on her fiercely angry face. “What is wrong with you? Ranger just had heart surgery and you’re cutting him!”

  Ember, who wasn’t given to tears, couldn’t keep them from tracking down her cheeks. She was so deeply sorry. She’d never meant to hurt Ranger. She loved him as much as her actual brother, Archer. Maybe even more. She would never ever do anything to harm him.

  And yet, she had.

  “You’re not right in the head,” Lucy yelled. “Don’t you care at all what people think about you?”

  “Leave her alone, Lucy,” Ranger commanded from the doorway. His face was ghostly pale and he had a bandanna wrapped around his thumb but the blood was soaking through. “She only cut me so deeply because you interrupted.”

  Lucy whirled around to face him. “Thank God I did! If I hadn’t come in, this little heathen might have scalped you!”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Ranger said flatly. He wasn’t usually so rude to his stepmother, but he was taking up for Ember, and he was in pain. “We were conducting a blood ritual.”

  “And here you are, spurting blood all over the patio. You got what you wanted. Happy now?” Lucy’s cheeks flushed red, and her chin quivered.

  Ember recognized then how upset Lucy was, saw things through her eyes. She ducked her head and apologized profusely to both Ranger and Lucy.

  “No worries.” Ranger winked at her. “We
’re bonded for life now.”

  But they weren’t. She hadn’t cut herself. They hadn’t finished the ritual. She hadn’t sworn a vow. Their blood hadn’t mingled.

  “You,” Lucy barked at her. “Get home now, and don’t let me catch you sneaking back over here. I’ll be having a stern conversation with your mother.” She whirled around to Ranger. “And you, go get in the car. That cut needs sterilizing and stitches.”

  Lucy had whisked Ranger away, and when Ember had gotten home, she’d gotten a spanking and had her pocketknife taken away, but worst of all, she’d been banned from the mansion, and from hanging around with Ranger. Ember’s mother had grounded her for a week and told her she needed to learn to think about the consequences of her actions before she acted. Which confused Ember. How could you think about what you did before you did it?

  She supposed Lucy would have eventually relented and let her see Ranger again, but not long after that bloodletting incident, Ranger’s stepmother had been diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer, and she’d quickly succumbed to the terrible disease.

  Ember shook her head, snapped back to the present moment, kissed Ranger’s thumb again. “I caused a hell of a ruckus.”

  “You brought excitement into my boring bookish life. Thank you,” Ranger murmured. “I’m glad now that we didn’t become blood siblings. It was hard enough for us to get here even without that heavy symbolism.”

  “How hard was it?” she teased.

  “About as hard as I am now,” he said gruffly, and she could feel his erection growing against her leg.

  “I’m glad you like me.” She smiled as a warm, fizzy sensation seeped through her. “Apparently, I’m an acquired taste.”

  “All the best things are,” he said, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Champagne, coffee, olives, blue cheese . . .”

  “So now I’m blue cheese?”

  He nibbled her earlobe. “I love blue cheese.”

  “You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl.”

  “Not just any girl,” he said. “You.”

  Another warm fizzy feeling started in the pit of her stomach and wriggled up into her heart. “You don’t sweet-talk Dawn?”

  Why had she said that? She didn’t want to know about his relationship with Dawn.

  “Dawn is sweet,” he said.