by Vivian Arend
“Vividly.” He blinked. “You still seeing that doctor who steps on your feet on the dance floor?”
“He’s got good hands. Makes up for the feet.” Tamara glanced over her shoulder. “Stop hovering, Travis, and get out. I’ll call you if I need you. Asshole.”
“Brat.” Travis hesitated in the doorway, his gaze meeting Cassidy’s briefly before flicking away. “Should I make something?”
“Yeah, coffee for you and me. I’ll let you know about Cassidy in a minute. I have a shift at the hospital right after this. Now get.”
Travis got.
Cassidy grinned. “You’re good at bossing him around.”
“Sugar, when you’ve got like a million male cousins all with control issues? You learn to stand up for yourself, or you get shoved in a corner and petted far too much.” She wrinkled her nose as she stared at her watch, maintaining a firm grasp on his wrist as she took his pulse. “Still beating. That’s a good start.”
The entire time she looked him over, Cassidy ignored the noises from the front of the cabin. Focused on whatever the hell he could do to stop the coming train wreck.
Tamara finally left with a warning he probably had a concussion, but otherwise she figured he’d survive. He was too tired to argue. Too tired to do anything but close his eyes and hope that when he opened them there would be a solution to his troubles.
Twice he remembered Travis shaking him, getting him to talk and offering a cold drink. Twice he refused to look his friend in the eye, taking the opportunity to turn his back as soon as possible to let exhaustion send him under again.
When he finally woke, driven by a desperate need to take a piss, Travis was stirring from where he’d stretched out on the couch.
Cassidy ignored him for another moment. Did his business, then got distracted by the bashed-up face that taunted him from the bathroom mirror.
Green eyes circled with the blooming shades of blue and black only strengthened his resolve, though.
Imagine that. I have something to thank the bastard for after all.
They met in the kitchen area. Cassidy deliberately put the entire table and a couple chairs between them.
Travis’s quick gaze took in the defensive stance, and he laughed. “You think I’m going to crawl over you or something?”
Cassidy lifted his chin. “You telling me you don’t remember kissing me, asshole?”
“Oh, I remember it plenty. And I remember you kissed me back. So why are you standing over there looking as if I’m a freak when we both know this has been hanging over us for far too long?”
“Nothing’s ever going to happen again.” The words shot out, sharp. “Shit, Travis, when I was poking you to tell me your secrets I was trying to get you to admit you get a kick from fighting in dark alleys.”
“When a person’s got all kinds of secrets, you don’t get to pick which ones they share.” Travis’s body language softened. “Cass, come on. I’m going crazy over here. I don’t want to fuck things up between us.”
Cassidy shook his head. “There is no us other than friends. And if you’re not going to admit you have an issue with violence, there’s not much to the friendship either.”
Travis frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ve got a great family, T. A solid place in the community. I’m not about to let you screw things up for yourself just because we’ve been hanging out together too long without tossing a woman into the mix. It’ll be better if I go.”
He didn’t expect the laughter. When Travis stopped shaking his head, he took a step to the right. Cassidy retreated, and this elaborate dance started with Cassidy desperate to maintain the space between them.
Travis growled in frustration. “Don’t be an idiot. I know Tamara said you might have a concussion, but how hard did you hit your head? You’re leaving?”
“I like women,” Cassidy blurted out.
Another snort of laughter escaped Travis. “I noticed. So do I. And they like us.”
Cassidy clutched that straw as if it was an unbreakable lifeline. “You don’t go around kissing your best friend when what you need is to find a good woman to meet your needs.”
“My needs?” Travis stared at the ceiling for a moment before shaking his head. “Too twisted and too fucked up and too…wrong to deal with.”
“Exactly.” Cassidy clutched the back of the chair in front of him, suddenly a lot less in control than he’d been a minute ago. He was positive about one issue. “Only if your needs are gonna get you killed by some stranger, you need to reconsider. If you have some twisted reason you like to get punched, then maybe you should consider asking a friend.”
Travis’s eyes widened. “Did you just offer to beat on me?”
Cassidy shrugged. “I’m your friend. At least I would stop when you’ve had enough. I don’t want to see you dead, which is why I tracked your ass down this morning.”
“Oh, and that was such a good idea, wasn’t it? Getting set on by an entire gang. Who got the beating on that one?”
“That’s not the point. We wouldn’t have been there if you had admitted you wanted my help.”
Travis nodded slowly. “And if I admitted I wanted…you?”
Shit, no. Cassidy pinched the bridge of his nose. “T, I’m the last thing you really want. Stop making this harder than it has to be.”
His friend snickered.
Jeez. “Freak. What are you, twelve?”
“You said it, not me,” Travis complained. He sighed. “Look, I need to get to the ranch before Blake and Matt start piling up all the shit jobs as punishment for missing work. I’ll be back tonight, and we can talk.”
“Not changing my mind,” Cassidy warned. “Not about anything.”
“We’ll talk. Have to pick up your truck as well.” Travis pointed at the small counter in the kitchen. “I charged your phone—turn it on so I can call to make sure you’re okay while I’m gone. Tamara’s orders.”
Travis left, and the world seemed a lot colder. Not even a steaming-hot shower was enough to warm Cassidy thoroughly.
After a couple hours of worrying at his dilemma, there was no other solution he could come up with. He sat at the table, flipping through the pages of a book but not really seeing the words. A small bundle of black-and-white fur meowed piteously by his feet until he relented and picked up the kitten, depositing it into his lap.
Cassidy refused to be the one who tore Travis’s world apart—and Travis had no idea exactly how hellish the world could get. Cassidy also refused to stand by and watch while a good friend found a way to commit suicide by giving in to whatever grim addiction had him in its power.
If he couldn’t help, and could only harm, he’d sit through this talk Travis wanted, then he’d grab his truck and leave. There were other places he could make a living, all of them far enough away he wouldn’t have to see his friend dead, or wishing he were dead.
Even if leaving Rocky Mountain House was going to hurt like crazy—
Cut and run was Cassidy’s only choice.
Chapter One
Nine months later
April, Rocky Mountain House
Gravel crunched under her wheels as she turned down the long back-road approach to his trailer. Ashley Sims slowed her van to keep dust from floating through the windows she’d opened to enjoy the warm spring air.
Things hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d traveled this path back in December, other than the obvious passing of the seasons. The snow was gone, but the lay of the land stayed familiar. There was still the same old outbuilding at the far edge of the field, its boards weathered to stately grey. The fence posts skipping past in her peripheral vision with a rhythmic consistency ran straight and true, the occasional old boot or baseball cap tacked to the top.
Inside, she’d turned a few corners, and the sight of buds on the willows and tiny blades of grass fighting to emerge from the broken soil in the field—all of it made her optimistic that she was abo
ut to find a new lease on life as well.
Fingers crossed Travis Coleman wouldn’t mind providing a place she could temporarily plant herself as she set down some roots. Real roots.
The radio station changed tunes, and she hummed along, tapping her fingers with the beat, smiling as it turned out to be yet another song about drinking.
Country music. Predictable, but soothingly familiar. Like coming home.
She’d just pulled into the yard area outside the singlewide mobile home when the dust rising from the east warned her timing had been perfect. The scent of spring hit her as she stepped outside, closing the door and leaning on the worn blue metal of her van.
His black cowboy hat appeared first, the hum of the ATV’s well-tuned engine rising over the ridge and carrying his jean-clad form closer.
If she’d had any worries about her reception, he put them aside quickly as his smile broke out, a flash of white against his tan. Travis parked at the edge of the driveway, threw a leg over the seat and strode toward her, all long-limbed and smooth. His worn Wranglers fit snug in the right places, the edges of his jacket flaring open to reveal a dark T-shirt stained with dirt from his labours.
The breeze picked up and whipped her hair across her face. Ashley pushed the long blonde strands out of her way, smiling as she openly admired him. “Long time no see.”
He stopped less than a foot away, lifting his fingers to caress her cheek. “Not true. I saw you last night in my dreams.”
The deep tone of his voice sent a shiver over her, and desire struck hard as it always did around him. He slid his hand around the back of her neck and eased in until their bodies brushed. With one small adjustment, he tilted her face upward, control in his grasp. Control that made her want to squirm closer and rub like a needy puppy.
Which was why she had to haul in a little control of her own. Take charge of a few things, the most important ones at least, before this situation went completely off track.
His gaze was locked on her lips. She licked them, pleased when the pupils in his dark grey eyes reacted, widening with lust. “You planning on kissing me, or eating me up for dinner?”
“How about both?”
She shook her head—well, as far as his firm grip would allow her to. “I’m not falling back into your bed, Travis. Not first thing.”
“Course not.” He grinned. “I figure it should take at least a month before we have to resort to an actual bed.”
Ashley should have seen that one coming. “You’re a filthy bastard at times, ain’t cha?”
“Just the way you like me…”
He moved slowly enough she could have pulled away. He’d never have tried it if she hadn’t wanted it in the first place—he wasn’t that type.
Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but hell if she’d deny herself this much of a homecoming.
As he lowered his head, she met him halfway. Firm lips pressed to hers, the soft strands of his hair under her fingers. He let go of her neck and cupped her ass, hoisting her skyward, and she wrapped herself around him tight, compressed against nearly two hundred pounds of muscle and barely restrained passion.
His tongue slipped past her teeth, teasing the roof of her mouth, tangling briefly with hers before he drew back far enough to plant kisses down the side of her neck. His fingers clenched her ass, rubbing her slowly over the growing ridge at his groin. Tendrils of pleasure radiated from her core, and for a moment she was so damned tempted to make this a real welcome back—complete with sticky, exhausting sex.
The kind of intimacy she knew Travis was more than proficient at providing.
He was the one who pulled away first, breathing unevenly but smiling as he lowered her reluctant limbs to the ground, supporting her until she found her balance.
Ashley swallowed hard, her lips tingling, blood pounding in her ears. “You still know how to get my motor running, Travis Coleman.”
“Good to know. Come on in, and tell me what you’re doing back in Rocky.”
She followed him up the couple of steps into the trailer. “You knew I’d be back sometime.”
He shrugged, hanging his jacket on a wall hook then holding out his hand to take her coat. “I wasn’t hundred percent sure. Figured if you decided it would be spur of the moment. Kind of how you left…”
Travis winked to soften his words, but they were true. She had taken off rather sudden-like.
She didn’t get time to go into the whys and wherefores before he ducked away into the back of the trailer, headed for the bathroom.
Ashley moved into the kitchen instead, more familiar touches greeting her. She’d sat in that chair and eaten breakfast. She had washed dishes at that sink. Been bent over that table and fucked until she could barely walk the next day.
Memories that shouldn’t be returning sprang up from all corners of the room, and she wanted to smack herself silly.
It wasn’t wrong to want to go back to jumping his bones, but damn if she’d get distracted from the real goal. It was past time for merely playing games. Past time for taking nothing but temporary pleasures.
She wandered the small trailer space as she pondered. She wanted it all, a present and a future, and that meant being smarter than she’d been the last time she and Travis had gotten involved.
“You want to stay for supper?” Travis asked as he stepped back into the room.
His hair was wet and freshly combed. He’d washed up quickly and pulled on clean jeans and a dark T-shirt that boldly stated Asshole.
She laughed. “You wore that on purpose.”
“Best birthday present I ever got.” Travis grinned. “Truth in advertising.”
Ashley leaned on the doorframe to the living room. “You look good, Travis. Your family doing okay?”
“Mostly.” He opened the fridge. “You never answered about supper. Am I feeding you tonight?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to trouble you. Just need a few minutes to ask you a favour.”
“No trouble. Easier to talk when we’re not both fighting our stomachs.”
He handed her a head of lettuce, and it was like stepping back in time. She put together a salad while he pulled out burgers and tossed them on the grill outside. By the time the food was on the table, she was glad he’d forced the issue. She didn’t have much left to eat in her van.
She took a big bite of the thick hamburger patty and moaned in appreciation. “So good. Thank you for being bossy and making me stay.”
“I’m good at bossy, if you remember.” His smile teased her again. “And now that we don’t have anything else to distract us, you can stop dancing from my questions. Are you in town for long?”
She nodded slowly. “I’m considering buying a place.”
“In Rocky? Really?”
“It’s got everything I need.” It was time to face the bull head-on. “Only I need your help to make it happen.”
“How?” He kept eating but paid full attention to her.
The explaining first, favour second. “When I left back in December, I headed south. Stopped in and visited my mom for a while. She’s doing really well—got a place in California in this amazing artists’ community. I did a little work for them and ended up with some commissions.”
He frowned. “For your art? I thought you were doing contract stuff with that advertising agency out of Calgary.”
Ha. “The jerk took some of my work and used it in another project without giving me credit. I found out before I left. No way was I going to keep on with him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Can’t you get your rights back or something?”
She sighed. “It’s more work than it’s worth. Some of the things were scribbles I’d done a couple years ago when I started with him—anyway, it doesn’t matter. I moved on, and now I have a chance to make some serious money without having to work for another person.”
A smile bloomed, curling his lips until he was full-out grinning. “Being your own boss. Always the best
way to make a living.”
“You know it.”
Travis nodded slowly. “It’s a good strategy. What do I have to do with it?”
Now came the favour. “I’d like to shadow you on the job for a while. I need pictures to use as a base for the artwork. I figure if I spend time in the field off and on for a couple months I can get most of what I need, then fill in the gaps with specific studio shots.”
“You want me to model for you?” His laughter filled the room. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Ashley looked him over, top to bottom, letting her appreciation show. “Although you’re a little too clean at the moment.”
“You need a dirty cowboy? Hmmm, this is sounding kinkier by the minute.”
She leaned forward, ideas and images filling her head. Somehow she needed to explain this so he could catch the vision.
“I’m not trying for a studio-perfect cowboy, Travis. Not what people on the street imagine, but a real working rancher. I want to take pictures of the most boring tasks and make them come alive. Maybe try one of those twenty-four-hour things, typical activities at all times of day and night. The hushed moments when the world is waking up, and the stinking hot, sweaty times when you’re up to your ears in shit. That’s the story I think will work with this—hard and hungry and so damn down to earth you can smell the country when you see the pictures.” She pulled back, her heart pounding. Travis had this knowing smile, and she bumped him with her foot. “What? Why you staring at me like that?”
“Because you’re so full of enthusiasm it’s making me twitch. You doing photos only for this? Or are you planning to turn them into digital paintings?”
“Mixed media.” It warmed her that he remembered what she’d been playing with before she left. “Might use some photos, some paintings—digital and probably watercolour. I was playing around at my mom’s and found out I have a fair hand with clay as well.”
