Lone Star Burn_Lone Star Sizzle

by Reagan Phillips

  When he finally pulled away, she watched him from under her thick lashes, her eyes in a daze. “What is that wonderful smell?” she asked, sniffing the air like a cute little pup.

  Hunter plopped a coffee mug on the counter in front of her and brought the carafe over to fill it. “I told you my coffee would not disappoint.”

  She brought the mug to her lips and smiled over the rim. “Your coffee isn’t the only thing that doesn’t disappoint.”

  Hunter didn’t miss the slight blush on her cheeks, or the way she glanced down at her mug, after she spoke. Blythe was stepping way out of her comfort zone being with him. He had to remember as much as he wanted to take her right there on the kitchen counter while his eggs burned on the stove, he had to take things slow. In a week, she’d be gone, and he didn’t want her regretting any decisions she made in Texas.

  As if reading his mind, Blythe reached for his hand and pulled him over. She looked warmly at him and begged for a kiss. He gave in, but only for a second before pulling away and refocusing on his omelet.

  “How do you feel about rodeos?” he asked, off the cuff, knowing she’d probably go wet at the idea of cowboys on bulls in the Texas heat.

  “I don’t know? I’ve never been to one.” She cuddled her mug and smiled over the rising steam.

  “There’s one in town tonight. Nothing fancy. Just locals getting drunk and testing out the next herd of bulls before the big PBR tryouts this fall.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “It is,” he said, scrapping the first omelet on a plate and placing it in front of her. “But not as dangerous as hanging around here all day thinking of the many ways I’d like to get those shorts off you.”

  Blythe stuck her fork in her eggs and took a bite. She glanced up to Hunter. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll go to the rodeo with you as long as you take me somewhere I want to go tonight.”

  Hunter poured the last of the eggs into the pan and began twirling them around. “Anywhere you want to go. Just name it.”

  Blythe took a second bite. “Dinner. With your family.”

  Hunter cut his gaze back to her. Sure, he’d already made up his mind that taking her to Beau’s for the night would get the family off his back, but agreeing to her request seemed like handing over his man-card. “We agreed. Personal life stays private.”

  “I know.” She dropped her fork and rubbed her hands along his abs before circling them around his waist. She stood on her tiptoes to peck his cheek, all ways of getting him to bend to her will. It was working. “You can keep your personal life private,” she whispered in his ear. “Just show up, eat the food, say thank you, and leave.

  My parents are the only family I have, and I live in fear of what will happen when they are gone. You have a brother who seems to want a relationship with you. One day you may need him.”

  Hunter pulled away and pressed his back to the counter. Her family probably also lived in a brick house with a white fence, a dog named Spot, and that half a child no one could figure out on the population charts. If she thought she could handle the Cole Crazy, she had no idea what she was asking. “The Cole family isn’t like most. I’m better off without a brother.”

  Blythe took her seat again, discouragement lowering her gaze before she looked back up with those pleading brown eyes. “I don’t believe anyone is better off without their family, but we agreed. I will leave your personal life alone, if that’s what you want.”

  Hunter reached for the stove and turned off the hot eye. “It is what I want,” he said. “I need to get Sydney settled at the kennel this morning. I’ll be back by noon to take you to the rodeo, if you still want to go.”

  It hurt like hell to walk out, leaving her with the expression of guilt on her face, but he had warned her enough. Prying into his personal life was only going to get her feelings hurt. He grabbed his keys and shut the door behind him before making his way to the truck. Maybe a few hours working with the kennel books while Sydney took care of the day-to-day would help him relax. He just needed space away from Blythe before she got deeper into his head and made him do something he would later regret.

  ****

  With Hunter at the kennel, Blythe busied herself by first cleaning the breakfast dishes and then looking through the extensive library of classics on the shelf in his den. By the layer of dust along the tops of the books, it had been a while since anyone had read them. Not that she blamed Hunter. Between keeping the kennel running and fixing up the ranch, he had more than his hands full. A slight tinge of guilt surfaced at the thought of making him take a day away from either to entertain her. Then she thought of his abrasive reaction to the family dinner. Beau seemed like a nice enough guy. And Molly’s attempt to persuade Hunter came with a genuine kindness. Who would turn their back on a supportive family, especially when a baby was coming into the fold?

  Blythe walked through the house room by room, noting Hunter didn’t keep family memories on display. In fact, other than a few framed silver belt buckles, nothing personal struck her. He’d either not had time to decorate before settling in to work on the place, or kept him memories locked away and out of view.

  An hour from noon, she had walked the fields and had gotten to know the two bays in the pasture. With lunch approaching, she searched her luggage for something appropriate to wear to a rodeo. A task made more complicated by the fact that she had packed for the beach. She needed reinforcements.

  She picked up the bedside phone and dialed Mandy’s number.

  “I’m surprised you can even talk. I thought Hotness would have worn you out by now.”

  Blythe laughed followed by a shallow sigh. “More like I’m exhausted from trying to figure Hotness out.”

  Mandy groaned over the phone. “You’re not supposed to figure men out. You hang on and hope his repressed baggage doesn’t hit you on the head while he’s screwing you.”

  “No wonder we have issues finding boyfriends.”

  “We don’t have issues with anything.” Mandy chuckled. “We just see the truth when everyone else has settled for less.”

  Blythe pulled a black knee-length strapless dress from her bag and set it on the bed. It’d be perfect for dinner. The second outfit she found was a pair of calf-length denim capris she liked to match with a sea-green halter-top.

  “What does one wear to a rodeo?” she asked.

  “That’s an easy one; you dress like a cowboy, only sexy.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t own anything that says, cowboy.”

  Mandy fell silent for a few seconds. “If your fantasy is bagging a cowboy, his fantasy might be tagging the city girl. Who says you have to give up your identity and dress like them when in Texas? Be Blythe. Stun him.”

  Mandy had an interesting view of the situation, but stunning Hunter in public might not be the way to go about getting on his better side. As she’d learned the night before with Beau, Hunter didn’t handle surprise well. He definitely threw off the private vibe. “I don’t know. He seems like the kind that likes to blend in more than make a statement.”

  “Then mix the two. Dress a little sexy for you and a little country for Hotness.”

  Mandy had a point. Blythe held up the black dress and walked down the hall to Hunter’s bedroom. He’d left the door cracked, and she pushed it open. A four-poster bed took up the middle. A matching chest of drawers sat opposite the door between the bathroom and a small closet. Minimal came to mind.

  “He’s not going to like me going through his things.”

  “He’s not going to care when every cowboy at that rodeo has their eyes on his prize-winning filly. Oh, gotta run. I’m being summonsed back to work. Call me in the morning and give me every detail.”

  Mandy hung up before Blythe could say thank you.

  Blythe fingered through a row of shirts, mostly t-shirts with a few polos and long sleeve button downs. His jeans were folded and stacked on a shelf, and a few pairs of dress pants hung on hangers. There wasn’t much to choose f
rom until she slid back a black suit and found a selection of silver buckles and two thick black leather straps.

  The idea hit her at once. She picked the smaller of the two belts and dashed back to her room to change.

  The belt worked perfectly as a cinch, and the buckle was just the right amount of bling. She’d seen a smaller pair of black boots in the back of his closet and tried them on. They were a tad roomy, but nothing an extra pair of socks couldn’t cure.

  She had just brushed out her curls and added a thin layer of bronzer when a cloud of dust and the call from the horses signaled Hunter’s arrival.

  She met him at the front steps, waiting for his reaction with baited breath. He stopped at her and stared, not moving for several agonizing moments. Then he brushed passed and disappeared behind the screen door.

  It was too much. She shouldn’t have gone in his closet, but damn, she was only trying to break the cold chill he’d put between them at breakfast.

  He could turn from hot to cold faster than any moody teenager. If this was his idea of playing chase, she wasn’t buying into it. Instead, she took a seat on the first step and surveyed the pastures. His ranch really was beautiful. The two bays sunned their backs and grazed a few feet apart from each other, and though most of the Longhorns had disappeared up the hill at first light, two stayed behind to nibble on the tender grass around the fence posts.

  This kind of peace she could see herself getting used to, but not with a man who brooded around all the damn time.

  She’d decided it was time to make him face her when a shadow blocked the sunlight from behind and something plopped down on her head.

  Surprised, she reached up to touch the soft felt brim of a hat. She ran her fingers along the edges before pulling it off and admiring it−a velvety black with a satin band and a small silver buckle made into a horse’s arched neck. “It’s stunning,” she said.

  Hunter stood next to her. She hadn’t looked up beyond the hat, but she could feel him there. “I figured if you’re gonna wear my grandmother’s boots you might as well wear her hat too.”

  Oh, crap. Blythe pushed up to her feet and searched out his face. “Oh, Hunter. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have—”

  He stopped her with the back of his hand gliding down her cheek. “She would have approved. Gramps will too.”

  Blythe pressed her cheek into his hand and glanced down at the boots.

  “I didn’t expect to see my brother last night, and I acted like a real jerk when you walked in the kitchen.” Hunter took a deep breath that leveled his shoulders. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped into honoring their dinner request out of pity.”

  “I don’t.” She smiled. “I feel honored to accept their request for you.”

  His eyes glistened, and the subtle grin on his lips wrinkled the corners of his mouth in a way that made her want to kiss him. “Give me a few minutes to change from the kennel. We can stop for lunch on the way to the fairgrounds.”

  Blythe took her seat back and admired the hat in her hands. Hunter didn’t come off as the sentimental type, but the way he’d smiled when he looked at the hat proved her wrong. He had a connection−a strong one to his family−but something had severed it.

  They’d made a deal. Nothing personal. Only a week together and she’d be back in Virginia telling her school kids all about the cows she’d seen, and he’d be back to working on the ranch and running the kennel. A loner. That’s what she’d come to see him as. That’s what he’d always be to her.

  Hunter stepped out of the door in a pair of dark Wranglers, a black and white checkered button down, a belt buckle the size of her fist, and polished black boots that gleamed in the noonday sun.

  She swallowed hard at the picture of Texas perfection.

  “I couldn’t have you show me up, could I?” he grinned and offered his hand to help her up.

  Blythe let his fingers curl around her and rose to meet him. “No. I guess you couldn’t.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  If it hadn’t been for his promise to show Blythe a real rodeo, that dress and those boots never would have seen a bull.

  Hunter leaned on the fence separating a selection of hand-picked bulls from the ring and eyed every cowboy who dared drop a glance at Blythe. She was something new and different, and that fact alone brought her more attention than what made him comfortable. Then there was the fact that Blythe had legs that went on for miles, and the boots only made them more incredible to watch. But seeing her in his grandmother’s boots−the ones Gramps had made special−made his protective side flare up.

  He’d noticed the looks every other guy near the shoot gave her. They were all thinking about sticking their cocks up that dress and having those boots wrapped around their waists. The thought almost made him primal with anger.

  She wasn’t a child, and she wasn’t his. Hell, he’d known her a total of two days. Two fucking days, and yet here he was ready to go all protective boyfriend on a gang of rustlers he didn’t even know.

  Having Blythe around was dangerous. She made him feel things he didn’t want to feel and think thoughts he had no reason to think. Possessive. Protective. All characteristics he’d learned to tamp down and forget years ago.

  He fought the urge to wrap a defensive arm around her shoulders when the announcer called one of Gramps’s bulls to the holding pit.

  “This is the bull I wanted you to see.” He pressed his hand into the small of her back and led her away from the eye fucks of the surrounding riders.

  Mine. He shot a heated glance back, staking his claim.

  “How do the riders pick the bulls?” Blythe asked, taking the seat he directed her to. He took the arena in through her eyes. Years ago, he had wanted nothing more than to put places like this in his rear view mirror. Now, seeing it through Blythe’s wonder, it held a certain appeal.

  “They draw names out of a hat.”

  She turned sharply to him. “Seriously? All this skill and training and what bull you ride is left up to a name on a slip of paper?”

  “The bulls all have different rankings, so chance is the best way to decide who gets to ride what.”

  Blythe watched on as the wranglers penned the first bull and the rider settled onto his back. “So the most novice rider could draw the most skilled bull?”

  He laughed. “That’s what’s called the luck of the draw.”

  The gate opened, and the young cowboy’s body flung around the bull’s narrow back like a rag doll from a dog’s mouth. “Or worst luck ever,” she added. “How does he not break his back?”

  “Training. Bull riders know how to rock their bodies along with the bull.”

  “But they still get hurt, right?” The concern in her voice got to him. “Did you ever ride rodeo?”

  He hesitated. The subject had been off limits for so long; no one ever dared bring it up with him. “It’s what my family hoped I’d do.”

  Her full attention was on him now. “But not what you wanted for yourself.”

  He pushed his hat up on his head and blew out a breath. “I wanted something more. That didn’t sit will with Gramps and my dad. Ranching is all they’ve ever known.”

  “But you’re working on your own ranch?”

  Hunter dropped his head until the brim of his hat brushed his fingers. He’d never talked about his time in the Marines, about wanting nothing more than to put Fort Mavis behind him until he had a taste of the world. He didn’t ever want to think about the day he’d come crawling back, feeling like less of a man for choosing the comfort of home over the adventure of a life outside of ranching.

  “My dad got sick and then my grandmother. The family needed me to work with them and I did.”

  The timer buzzed the end of the eight-second ride, and number one-twenty-three jumped off the bull’s back and sprinted for the protection of the fence.

  “My parents hoped I’d be married with little mini-mes underfoot by now,” Blythe said.

  He glanced at her. “You’
re what, twenty-four? Twenty-five? You’re way too young to be saddled with your parents’ dreams of grandchildren.”

  “Twenty-seven, but thanks for the ego boost.” She turned back to the rodeo clowns luring the bull back to the holding shoot. “Marriage and kids have never been my dream. I want them someday, yes. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s something more for me to do first.” She turned back to him. “Something to finish before I start a family.”

  He had to hide his shock at the comment. She’d been so pro-family when she had met Beau and Molly. Everything about her screamed housewife with kids riding her hip. It didn’t add up that she didn’t want those things now. Or was it that she hadn’t found the right person to share them with?

  “There’s an adventure out there with your name written all over it,” he said.

  She looked up at him. “I hope so. I don’t know how much longer my parents can hold out before they start trying to adopt grandchildren instead of waiting on me.”

  ****

  Blythe didn’t want to ask about Hunter’s plans when they left the fairgrounds. Instead, she sat in the truck and watched the endless open fields roll by in silence.

  Hunter hadn’t spoken much since their conversation near the shoot at the rodeo, and she didn’t feel like starting small talk for the sake of comforting her nerves.

  “Will your Gramps mind that I’m wearing his wife’s hat and boots?” she finally ventured.

  She studied the features of his face, expecting to find conflict. Instead, he grinned. “I think he’s going to appreciate someone using them. He had those boots custom made behind her back. She always complained they were too flashy to wear in public. Grandma liked beautiful things, but she never saw herself as someone who needed to embellish what God gave her.”

  By his answer, she’d learned two things. One, she would have loved to have met his grandmother, and two, if Hunter was half as kind as his grandfather, he had a heart of gold buried under all that frustration.

  Now that he’d opened the conversation gate she couldn’t help the rush of small talk from spilling out. “Has your family always lived in this area?”