A Husband in Wyoming

by Lynnette Kent

  “I’ll check on the boys,” Garrett said. He looked at Dylan, and then Jess. With a nod to each of them, he headed toward the bunkhouse.

  “Well, that party ended fast.” Dylan dropped his head back to gaze at the sky. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “In the dark?” But his hand had already found hers. She followed willingly.

  When he turned off the path to the red barn, she realized where they were going, and let him lead her down the hill to the creek. Without a mishap or a stumble, Dylan took her straight to the stone they’d sat on before. By that time her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could detect the silhouettes of the trees, black smudges against the night, and the lighter surfaces of the rocks, the froth of foam in the creek.

  They sat side by side, still holding hands. The boulder beneath them radiated the day’s warmth. “I hate to go in there,” he said, nodding toward the studio. “Not without making things right.”

  “You could sleep at the house, wait till the morning.”

  “Yeah. I might do that. That couch is pretty comfortable.”

  The darkness around them was far from silent—over the rushing water she could hear chirps and burps in every direction. “What makes all the noise?” she asked Dylan.

  “Crickets and frogs, cicadas. The usual outdoor chorus.”

  Jess picked her feet up. “Do they bite?”

  “No, silly. Haven’t you sat and listened to bugs at night?”

  “I’ve been an urban dweller my entire life. I didn’t play outside much.”

  She drew a quick breath as the pad of his thumb stroked along her jawline. “No wonder your skin is so fine. You haven’t let the sun get to it.” He stroked again. “You don’t even need makeup. Those freckles across your nose are lovely.”

  “People expect the mask.” His fingers curved around the nape of her neck and lifted her hair up off her shoulders. “That feels wonderful. It gets heavy sometimes.”

  “I bet.” His fingers threaded through the length. “You could keep it shorter. You’d still be gorgeous.”

  “Then I’d have to change my profile picture. And longer hair makes you look younger, if you keep it styled.”

  “So many rules in your business.” Strong fingers massaged her left shoulder, and then her right. “You must stay tense.”

  Jess shivered. “You’re taking care of it.”

  “Glad I can help.” She relaxed as his arm circled her back, with his hand resting at her waist. “See how I did that? Pretty smooth, hmm?” His lips touched her temple. “I love your perfume. Thank God for Coco Chanel.”

  She actually giggled. “You’ve got a pretty sexy scent, yourself.”

  His other hand came up to her cheek and turned her face toward him. “At least I don’t smell like a horse tonight.”

  Before she could laugh, he bent his head and swept her into a kiss. She wasn’t surprised, but she gave a small gasp, because his mouth felt so wonderful joined with hers.

  Dylan chuckled. “It’s amazing,” he said, his breath whispering over her lips, “how good we are together.”

  “Dylan...” She tried to be sane. “This isn’t a smart idea...”

  “You’re my diversion,” he murmured. “Keeping my mind off my troubles.”

  Jess understood that reasoning all too well. The night had turned fluid, a swirling darkness where the anchor was his shoulder under her palm and their mouths locked together, moving, sliding, clinging as they created an intensity of pleasure she’d never known. Her hand on the back of his neck discovered the smoothness of his skin and the crisp waves of his hair. She explored further and found the sleek muscles of his upper arm under the crisp cotton shirt, the light dusting of hair on his bare forearm.

  “It’s not fair,” she told him as he skimmed his mouth over her chin and along the curve of her throat.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve got two arms around me, but I can only use one.”

  “Simple to solve.” In the next moment, he eased her down, until they were lying side by side on the boulder. “Better?”

  She circled both her arms around his shoulders. “Much.”

  He groaned as she ran her hands up and down his back. “Oh, yes.”

  For all Jess noticed, the stone beneath them might have been a feather bed. She was consumed in Dylan, stroking her hands over the long lines of his body, the firm muscles and smooth skin under his shirt. He kept an arm under her head, but his other hand managed to be everywhere—her breasts, her thighs, her belly and, tenderly, her face.

  “Beautiful,” he said, pressing his kisses against her breastbone. “You are so beautiful.” He raised his head to meet her eyes, a glint of laughter in his own. “Your soul is beautiful, too. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m a superficial guy.”

  “Superficial has its useful moments.” She skimmed her hands along his ribs. “Carry on.”

  Dylan fingered the neck of her T-shirt, and Jess gasped when he slipped his hand inside to graze his knuckles against the tops of her breasts. “I would undress you right here under the stars, but with our luck, a teenager would come wandering down the hill for the first time since they’ve been here. That’s the kind of day it’s been.”

  He helped her sit up again, then got to his feet and held out a hand. “We can go to the studio. Or...” She heard his deep breath. “I can walk you to the house. Your choice.”

  The moon hadn’t risen, so he was a form in the dark, a cowboy-shaped shadow. And she wanted him.

  The rules she’d set for herself raced through her mind.

  Taking his hand, Jess stood up beside him. Then she turned and led him across the grass toward the blue door.

  * * *

  DYLAN OPENED THE studio door but didn’t turn on the overhead lights, leading Jess around the tables using only the glow from a single lamp by the bed in the loft. Atmosphere mattered to women. After starting this seduction on a rock, he figured he could make at least a little more effort.

  And he refused to think about the catastrophe in his studio.

  “Would you like some wine?” he asked as they climbed the steps still hand in hand. “Or a drink? I have whiskey, coffee and iced tea. Take your pick.”

  “You,” she said at the top. When he turned to look at her, she pushed at his chest, walking him backward until the bed hit his calves. “Just you.”

  Grinning, he allowed her to push him until he fell onto the mattress. Jess came down on top of him, with her knees on either side of his hips.

  “Just.” She kissed him, and then started on the buttons of his shirt. “You.”

  The night went wild. By the time she got his shirt unbuttoned, he had pulled her T-shirt over her head and thrown it away.

  Then he groaned. “I’m glad I didn’t know what you wore underneath that black shirt. It would have made me crazy all day.” She was sexy as hell in a red, low-cut bra. “Does the bottom match?”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “Maybe.”

  Dylan groaned again. “I’m dying, here.” He went for the buckle on her belt and then the snap on her jeans. Just a short slide of the zipper proved the truth.

  Velvet skin and red silk lingerie sent him over the edge. He wanted to touch, to taste every inch of her, and he made the supreme effort. She countered him with moves of her own, kisses and nips in unexpected places, her palms sliding intimately across his flesh, her wicked whispers making him that much hotter. He didn’t believe he could last a second longer, and yet he held back, not wanting the most incredible experience of his life to end. Sex had never been this good before. Would never be this good again with anyone but Jess.

  Suddenly she was underneath him in the way he’d fantasized, naked and eager, her big golden eyes pleading with him to give them both the climax they craved. With their bodies joined, Dylan began to move, slowly, carefully at first, but then faster and stronger until he lost control and the two of them reached the firmament together.

  Afterward, he manag
ed not to fall on top of Jess, but to the side. It took a while for him to catch enough breath to speak. “You okay?”

  “I’m wonderful.” Head on his shoulder, she curled against his side like a contented cat. “You?”

  “Perfect.” He kissed her forehead. “Or as close as I’ll ever get.”

  A laugh shook her. Then, between one breath and the next, Jess Granger fell asleep.

  Dylan chuckled. Without disturbing her, he reached down to the foot of the bed and grabbed the blanket, covered both of them with it, and then he let his eyes close, too.

  He woke her sometime in the night to make love again, more slowly but with even more intensity. The next time he opened his eyes, dawn was lighting the windows and Jess was coming up the stairs with two cups of coffee. She wore her black T-shirt, which almost reached to the top of those red panties.

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t need another stimulant,” he said as she handed him a mug. “You’re quite enough, thanks.” He bent his knees to tent the blanket and conceal his body’s predictable response to...well, to everything about Jess Granger.

  She toasted him with her cup. “I should probably have sneaked back into the house under cover of darkness. Garrett will be in the kitchen by now.”

  “Garrett’s long gone. It’s Sunday, so he goes to the church in town early to review his sermon and make sure everything is ready for services.”

  “In that case...” She set her cup on the bedside table and threw herself on the bed beside him. “We could get more sleep. Or something.”

  He put his cup down and let himself fall into her kisses for a few minutes, then pulled back slightly. “I am supposed to be feeding the horses in about twenty minutes.”

  Jess joined him under the covers and put her warm palms on his bare chest. “That’s plenty of time.”

  Dylan was only a little late to feed the horses, but he found Ford there ahead of him, putting grain in buckets. “Good morning,” his brother said evenly, without pausing in his task.

  “Yes, it is. I’ll take those out to the field.” He whistled as he waited.

  “You’re in a fine mood for so early.”

  “Sometimes you just wake up that way.”

  Ford cleared his throat. “Your private life is your business—”

  “Thanks, that’s all you should say.” Dylan stepped over to pick up the stacked buckets.

  “But she will leave.”

  “I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

  “We need you functional.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What am I, fifteen? I’ve dealt with much worse in life than being dumped. I can handle my own relationships without falling apart. Though God forbid anybody but Wyatt require a respite. The whole place would fall to pieces.” He walked across the corral toward the pasture gate, no longer whistling. His mood didn’t matter to the horses, who were all stationed at their usual tubs, waiting for breakfast.

  His brothers couldn’t seem to leave it alone. When he went into the house, Jess was nowhere to be seen but Wyatt was seated at the dining room table with his coffee, obviously waiting. The door to the kitchen was closed.

  “Got a minute?” he asked, but his tone didn’t invite a refusal.

  So Dylan sat down. “Could we skip the lecture? Consider it said?”

  “Sure. Can we assume you’ll keep your relationship out of sight so the kids won’t get the impression that this is approved behavior?”

  “What’s not to approve? Wait, I know.” He held up a hand. “Only within the bonds of holy matrimony. Could I just point out you don’t seem to have a problem with Ford and Caroline spending the night in town together?”

  “They’re engaged. And they’re not on the ranch. Playing games under the teenagers’ noses is asking for the same kind of behavior from them.”

  “Yes, Wyatt, we will be discreet. Yes, Ford,” who had just walked into the room, “I’ll keep my chores done even when Jess has to return to New York.” He hadn’t said it aloud before that moment. Maybe he hadn’t quite believed it would happen. “And I’ll try to be sure my ‘hobby’ doesn’t interfere with anybody else’s life.” He pushed the chair back and stood. “Anything else?”

  At that moment, Susannah pushed the kitchen door open. She carried a plate in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. “Hi, Dylan. I thought you might want to eat in here instead of the kitchen.”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ll be in the studio cleaning up, if somebody needs me.” Brushing by Ford, he left the house with a slam of the screen door.

  When he reached the bottom of his hill, instead of going into the studio he walked down to the creek and sat on the boulder he thought of as his. Or, now, theirs. Memories of the moments they’d lain there seemed to drift over him like falling petals on the morning breeze.

  He didn’t regret what he’d done. How could anyone regret such a wondrous experience? He’d be content to spend the rest of his life waking up with Jess Granger in his arms.

  But, as his brothers had so kindly pointed out, that was the problem. Jess wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t imagine why she would make that choice, even if she had fallen in love with him in a matter of four days. And that wasn’t at all realistic, even if he’d fallen in love with her.

  Why else would he make love to her? He hadn’t changed his mind about casual sex, or commitment. His brothers thought they were so smart, trying to warn him off from getting too involved—they didn’t see that he was already too involved, had been since Thursday afternoon, when he’d listened to her talk about her past and realized what a strong and dependable person she must be. A woman who could build a successful life with absolutely no one’s help would be a partner he wanted to make a home and family with. He would trust her with his life. More important, he would trust her with the lives of his children.

  But there was no reason to think Jess had fallen in love with him. She didn’t want to need people—he understood that. And he had no idea how he could convince her that relationships could be permanent, could last an entire lifetime.

  Dylan laughed at himself. He wasn’t sure how he knew relationships could last a lifetime. He’d never had a romance last six months.

  Except that Wyatt had been there for him every day of his twenty-seven years. Ford and Garrett, too, even if they ticked him off. If he cast his mind further afield, he could think of others who had demonstrated that kind of loyalty to him. Mr. and Mrs. Harris had celebrated their fortieth anniversary last fall. Several couples in Garrett’s church had seen their fiftieth. Hell, Kip Glazier had been his friend since fifth grade. Seventeen years was a long time.

  But just promising Jess forever would mean nothing. And how would he show her, except day by day? He didn’t have much to offer to keep her in Wyoming. Nothing she valued, anyway, such as laundries and Chinese takeout, fancy ice cream, a good job and a place of her own without his brothers watching her every move. And not just because she was such a pleasure to watch when she walked.

  He would have to accept the idea that she would go. She hadn’t mentioned how much longer she’d stay, but a week would be pushing it. She’d probably need more clothes, if nothing else.

  And so he would enjoy this week, treasuring every moment they were together. Even when they weren’t alone, he’d value the time he could watch her, talk with her, learn from her. When they were alone, he would make those moments a sensual and satisfying experience. And when the day came when Jess had to leave, he would watch her walk away with his pride intact, if not his heart.

  But then, an artist could do great work with a broken heart.

  “Here again?”

  There she was, looking more gorgeous than ever. “Yeah... I wasn’t quite ready to tackle the cleanup.”

  “I wasn’t sure what was going on. You said something about church...”

  “We haven’t been making the kids go—didn’t want to offend anybody’s parents. Garrett does a...what’s he call it?...a homily, right aft
er lunch. Sunday morning is sleep-in day for the kids.”

  She sat beside him, but not close enough that they were touching. “Your house isn’t well soundproofed.”

  “I figured you would hear the conversation.”

  “I could leave—”

  He put his hand over hers, clasped in her lap. “No. You wanted to work with the kids this week. You should have that chance. And I want you to stay. If that matters.”

  “Of course it does. I just hate making trouble with your brothers.”

  “You won’t be the first girl who did.”

  “Or the last?”

  An interesting question, coming from Jess. “I’m getting pretty old. My troublemaking days may be over.”

  “Ancient,” she teased. “I noticed last night how weak you are.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

  Jess stood up and drew him with her. “Susannah had me bring your breakfast over here. Come have something to eat. In just four days, I know you’re always starving.”

  “Must be your nose for news.”

  “A man’s appetite isn’t news. Just a fact of life.”

  “Wisdom and beauty, all in one package.”

  “Are you ever serious? Do you ever give a straight answer?”

  Dylan opened the door to the studio. “I’m thinking about it.”

  * * *

  JESS HAD BROUGHT the computer Ford had loaned her, but first she helped Dylan put the studio to rights. Of the three pieces set on fire, only one had been seriously burned, the eagle in flight, but the damage was mostly scorching and not actual destruction.

  “Kind of interesting,” Dylan commented as he examined it. “Like the story of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun with wings made of wax. The eagle flies too close and his wings are scorched.”

  “Or else it’s a comment on the quality of our environment—the lives of eagles are threatened by what’s happening with pollution.”

  He nodded. “That, too. Maybe I should incorporate scorching as a technique. I’m always willing to learn new tricks.” Glancing around the studio, his face relaxed from the tension he’d worn for the past twenty-four hours. “This is better. I can handle the rest of the work. You’re relieved of cleanup duty.”