by Tessa Layne
“Not looking.”
“What happened between you two? I always got the feeling you liked him when we were younger.”
“I liked his brain. Kept me on my toes. I didn’t like him. Don’t you remember how awful he was? He never lost an opportunity to humiliate me. I think he manufactured opportunities.”
“Aww, he probably didn’t know how to act around you.”
She turned, narrowing her eyes at one of her oldest friends. “This is Sterling Walker we’re talking about. He knew how to act around girls.”
Luci giggled. “True that.”
“I mean, really. Is there any girl in town he didn’t kiss at least once?”
Two pink spots bloomed on Luci’s face and a stab of jealously wound through Emma. She was literally the only person in town he’d never kissed. Sterling had put the moves on pretty much every other girl in town. She brushed aside the feeling. It was a long time ago. And Sterling was a player. He lived for the ladies and she’d lived for her studies. She’d been going places, then. Checking all the boxes on her list so she could attend the college of her dreams.
“You too, huh?”
Luci rolled her lips together. Gazing skyward, she gave a little shrug, face turning a deeper shade of pink. “I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t want you to be upset. It was only once, and I was sloppy drunk.”
Shaking her head, she put up a hand. “I don’t want to know. Really. And I never had a claim on him.”
“Sometimes it seemed like you did.”
Emma shook her head. “Nah. We just had this weird competition thing going. He was smart, but he was also a super jock. Mr. Popular. I was just book smart.” She’d worked so hard to become Valedictorian, and in the end, she’d had to share that honor with him too.
“We were both cheerleaders.”
Emma snorted. “We were all cheerleaders, Luci. That was Nikki Pope’s domain and she ruled that squad with an iron fist.” Unease balled in her belly. She hated rehashing her high school experience. Even with the success she’d garnered at Royal Fountain Media in Kansas City – the fancy loft, the name recognition, her picture on the society pages – every time she returned home to Prairie, she was still the awkward teenager with the hot older brothers, the philandering dad, and the socially awkward demeanor. It didn’t matter that she’d been named to the Thirty Under Thirty list and that she was kicking around ways to start her own agency. In Prairie, she was plain ’ole Emma Sinclaire. Most of the time, she didn’t mind it. She liked Prairie. Loved coming home to spend time with her family. And she was so much more now than who she was then. But seeing Sterling Walker brought all her old discomfort flooding back.
Luci tapped her. “Quick, quick, quick. Turn around. He’s walking over here. Oh sweet Jesus, he looks fine.” Luci clutched her arm, giggling. “And get ready, ’cause his eyes are on you, Em.”
Emma zeroed in on the jukebox selections, but the words swam before her. All she could focus on was the flame heating her from the inside out. Her pulse quickened. Half in anger, half in anticipation. She hadn’t seen him in years. What should she say? She sure as heck wasn’t going to let him get the upper hand. Never again.
She turned at the tap on her shoulder, dimly aware that Luci had disappeared into the ether. She was entirely on her own with her nemesis. But her words died on her lips when she locked gazes with Sterling. His gray eyes glinted with humor and confidence. As if he already knew he’d won whatever match they were about to have.
The years had been good to him. Too good. No one should look as good as he did. Not without significant help from Photoshop. But there he was, standing before her, big and broad. Chiseled. Hard from years of service. Somehow his nose was still as straight as a Greek god’s. And his mouth still had the faintest quirk at the corner, just the way it always had when they’d locked gazes. And his lower lip was just as enticing as ever. Begging to be sucked and tasted.
“Hello, Goldilocks.”
His voice had matured too. Deep and gravelly. Like the aged scotch her brothers liked so much. He braced an arm against the wall with the air of a man supremely confident. She swallowed at the way his muscles pulled on his shirt.
“Care to dance?”
Something in the tone of his voice snapped her out of her trance. He was toying with her. She could tell. Everything about his body language screamed set-up. She scanned the room, looking for his cohorts, finding them leaning against the bar watching the exchange avidly. Of course. Mike McAllister, Cody Hansen, and Tony Cruz. The four had been inseparable in high school. Some things never changed. She looked at him coolly, raising an eyebrow. “You can tell your friends I was just leaving.”
But that didn’t put him off in the least. Instead, he turned his million-dollar smile on her and slid a hand down her arm. His caress burned through her sweater. She might have liked him once upon a time, but he’d never had this kind of an effect on her. The kind of effect that had her lady bits throbbing and her nipples puckering to tingly points.
“Just one? For old time’s sake?”
“I didn’t realize we had old times.” It had suddenly become too warm in here.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Sure we did. You and Lydia Grace acting like librarians at the keggers.”
“Someone had to make sure you boys didn’t drink and drive.”
“Stealing your clothes when we all went skinny-dipping in Kincaid’s pond.”
“That was you? I knew it.” She glared at him. Of all the nerve. She’d had to tread water for what felt like hours until Carolina Grace had heard her shouting and had ridden home for a change of clothes.
He lifted his chin as a laugh rumbled through his chest. “The look on your face was priceless when we took off.”
“I’m sure it was,” she said dryly. “Thanks for the memory, Sterling.”
“Aww.” He drew his hand down her arm again, brushing to her fingertips. “You had your revenge when you got Cassidy Grace to steal my locker number and you filled it with slime.”
In spite of herself, she laughed. “You deserved it.”
He shrugged easily. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Yeah, I did.”
Huh. That was the closest she’d ever come to receiving an apology from him. Her resolve began to weaken. If she was going to escape his spell, she needed to plan an exit soon. And there was his mega-watt smile again. If he was trying to wear her down, he was succeeding.
“What do you say?” He extended his hand.
Would it be so bad? Dancing with him? Maybe he’d changed. She had. The juke-box flipped to an old Kaycee Starr song, Dance with Me. One of her favorites. She would live to regret this, but she couldn’t turn him down. She never could. “Just one dance.”
He stepped close and took her hand. There was something so strong, so sure in his grasp. Electricity zipped up her arm setting her pulse hammering. She caught a glimpse of his buddies as he spun her into his arms and remembered to keep her distance. He was overpowering enough at arm’s length. “How much they bet you?”
Sterling’s eyes lit. “Thirty?”
“That all?”
He shrugged, a rueful grin playing at the corner of his mouth. “There was a chance you might say no.”
“I almost did.”
He tipped his head closer to hers. “Then I’ll consider this my lucky day.”
A shiver of attraction skittered down her spine as she caught his gaze and held it. His voice held a note of sin and promise. It would be so easy to give in. Become another in a long line of conquests. But, no. Not tonight. Not ever. She looked away.
His hand at her hip gave her a little squeeze, somehow acknowledging what had just passed between them. “I should thank you, you know.”
She glanced up sharply. “How so?”
His eyes were sincere. He wasn’t teasing her this time. “You made me work.”
“What do you mean? Everything came easy to you.”
“Some things easier
than others,” he admitted. “But I don’t think I’d have gotten the appointment to West Point without pushing myself to beat you.”
“The competition didn’t hurt me either. I was ready for Barnard when I arrived.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Ready for West Point? For real?” His admission shocked her. “The great Sterling Walker unprepared?”
He maneuvered them between two other couples. “No one is prepared for Beast. Not even me. But that’s the point. It’s supposed to be brutal. You’re supposed to want to quit, but you don’t. It builds you up.”
Her respect for him went up a notch. “How’d you get through that?”
He studied her intently while the last notes of Kaycee Starr’s song faded. Heat bloomed across her chest as the strains James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go filled the bar. When he finally spoke, his voice came out with a burr. “You dig deep. Remember the people you love at home and why you’re there. And the people you’re letting down if you give up.”
“There’s no way you ever would have quit, Sterling. It’s not your style.” But still, she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, if he was admitting it was hard. Especially to her.
His expression turned serious. “Can I ask you something?”
Her heart began to thump erratically. “Sure?” Sterling was never serious. At least not with her. She tensed as she waited for him to speak.
“Do you think I’m an asshole?”
“Sorry?”
“Do you think I’m an asshole?”
He was serious too. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. How in the hell was she supposed to answer that?
His face tightened. “Your face says it all. You think I am. I was. Shit.” He stopped in the middle of the dance floor, putting both his hands on her shoulders. “I was an asshole. To you for sure, and probably to others. And I have no excuse for my behavior except that I was a teenaged dumbshit. If I hurt you in any way I’m truly sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
A rush of feeling flooded her, pricking her eyelids with hot tears. She would not cry in front of Sterling. “I… thank you,” she finished lamely. What else could she say? She’d never admit to the countless soaked pillows, or the tears she’d cried into her horse’s mane.
The song switched to Brad Paisley’s Then as the clock crept toward midnight. Sterling pulled her back into his arms, and this time she let him pull her close. Maybe it was dangerous to do so, let herself get close enough to catch a whiff of his spicy cologne. He was so charming. It would be so easy to melt into him. Lose herself in a kiss or four.
“Emma?”
She tilted her face up, pulse rocketing. There was something urgent in his voice. Intense. “Yes?”
“Do you think we could start over?” His eyes were soft. Hopeful.
“What do you mean, start over?”
“You know. Be friends. I retired from the military and I’m home to help Travis with Resolution Ranch. I don’t know how often you make it back to town, but you know, maybe we could grab a beer sometime. Catch up.”
“Catch up.” He’d stunned the speech right out of her. For a split second, she flashed to a previous New Year’s Eve where Sterling had sweet-talked her into thinking he was interested in her. But she knew better. The road to hell was paved with good intentions. Just ask her mother about her father. She could move beyond the past, but she wasn’t ready to get cozy with Sterling, no matter what her body screamed to the contrary. “Maybe.” She smiled coyly. “So long as you never call me Goldilocks again.”
“Aww.” He shook his head, eyes crinkling again. “That might be a deal breaker. You can’t take away all my fun.”
Even she had to laugh with him. “Only most of it.”
Ten, nine, eight… The crowd began to chant the final countdown to the new year. The room quivered with excitement. Seven… six…
Sterling tightened his embrace and leaned in. “How about it, Goldilocks? A New Year’s kiss for old time’s sake? To celebrate old friends becoming new?”
Five… Four
She trembled, flushing with heat. “Mmm. Tempting.” She could taste him already. His eyes hooded, and for one heart-stopping second, she melted into him.
Three…
But this was Sterling the player.
Two…
Sterling the charmer.
One…
And if she wasn’t very careful, she’d end up on the road to heartbreak. Just like her mother did with another charmer years ago.
Happy New Year!
She slid a hand over a rock-hard pec, resigning herself to an intense session with her vibrator. “But not tonight. Good night, Sterling.”
She turned and left him standing in the middle of the dance floor before she could change her mind.
CHAPTER 4
Two weeks later
Sterling huddled deeper into his coat, squinting into the snow flurries. They were going to have to break for the day if the visibility got any worse. Weather reports had called for blowing snow. He didn’t realize that meant nearly whiteout conditions even though less than six inches covered the ground.
Axel pulled up next to him. “I’d give my left nut for a hot shower right now.”
Sterling chuckled. “Suck it up. You’ll have your shower tomorrow. We still have two weeks.”
“I don’t know how you guys do it.”
“Easy. This ain’t so bad.” He’d loved every minute, so far. Sure, parts had been brutal. Slogging through ice had sucked. Unfreezing his hands hurt. Working to forge a connection with his horse, Bingo, and his pack horse, Trixie, was an ongoing challenge, but he was getting there. “For starters, no one’s shooting at us.”
“Hope’s meeting me at our rendezvous point tonight.”
No chance of breaking early, then. No problem. He was tired, but nowhere close to breaking. The weather would have to throw much worse at him before he’d throw in the towel. And if the horses could hack it, he could too.
Axel reached to pat his horse, Ricky, on the neck. “I want you to focus on one thing with your mounts the last phase of this journey.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re still treating your horse like an obstacle to overcome. That’s why she gets tetchy. You’re like a wolf hunting prey, and she picks up on that. You’ve gotta bring it down. Dial into Bingo’s feelings, Bingo’s anxiety. What makes her tick. If she’s anxious, it’s probably because she doesn’t feel safe with you yet.”
That stung. He liked Bingo. This was the most riding he’d done in years, and he’d forgotten how much he loved being out on horseback. The sore, achy muscles were worth it. But Axel was right. Every morning he went through the same ordeal with Bingo, struggling to settle her. Struggling to get her saddled, to clean her feet. Like he was starting all over with the horse again. It frustrated him that he couldn’t wrap his head around that part of it.
“I don’t get it. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
Axel shrugged. “It’s hard to say. On the outside, you’re doing all the right things.”
“So it’s me,” he said, trying not to let disappointment creep into his voice. “You’re saying she has a problem with me.”
“You’ll probably hear Hope say this when she joins y’all. A horse can sense your bullshit long before you do. They won’t trust you unless you’re completely honest with them. Or yourself.”
Huh. Sterling blew out a breath. “So you’re saying I haven’t been honest with the horse?”
That sounded far-fetched. But Bingo was right.
He’d wrapped himself in a cloak of supreme confidence for the sake of the mission for so many years, he wasn’t sure it could come off. It was baked into his skin, like an exoskeleton. Was that what Emma had reacted to for so many years? She’d grown up around horses, so it was possible. It was also possible she had a sensitive bullshit meter.
Was that why she’d fled on New Year’s Eve? Her bullshit meter had gone ha
ywire? For a shining, sweet moment, he’d felt a connection with her. Something true and deep. He’d never have suggested a kiss otherwise. He was a risk-taker, not a glutton for punishment. But he’d fallen back on his favorite MO – his irresistible charm.
Still, she hadn’t said no.
He’d take not tonight. Those words held a glimmer of hope. She could have told him to fuck off. He’d half expected her to, so he’d count not tonight as a win.
Grief stabbed through him as Johnny’s laugh rang through his head. Someday, Walker… You’re not going to know what hit you. And I’ll be laughing my ass off when the woman of your dreams conks you on the head with a two-by-four.
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. Nope. There would be no woman of his dreams. Not if he couldn’t guarantee her happiness. And nobody could do that. Not even Superman.
He tossed and turned that night, tent flapping in the wind. A rock dug into the small of his back. Cold seemed to permeate his sleeping bag. His dreams were haunted by faces. Jason’s grimace of agony at Walter Reed. Johnny’s vacant hopeless stare the last time they’d shared a meal. Macey’s face pinched with grief. Emma’s sparkling eyes on New Year’s Eve, her smile reflecting all the light in the room. He woke grouchy and bone tired. His knee ached.
The tent rattled.
“Up and at ’em. We’re burnin’ daylight,” Hope’s voice called from the other side.
He dressed quickly, hands stiff from the days of holding reins and pack-lines. A fire crackled in the crisp air and the few remaining clouds fired in shades of orange and coral. It was quite a vision, three-hundred-sixty degrees of white expanse, hardly a tree in sight. Today would be a long ride. They’d finish in the dark, passing through the Rita Blanca National Grasslands and making camp somewhere outside of Clayton New Mexico. This part of the United States was as desolate as any place he’d been in the Sandbox. He appreciated the stark beauty of it. The myriad of stars by night, and the vast emptiness by day that reminded him of his insignificance. Demanded his respect.
Hope handed him a steaming cup of coffee. He wrapped his hands around the camp mug, drawing warmth from the sides.
