Cowboy's Pride (Welcome to Covendale Book 1)

by Blaze, Morgan

  “That’ll do.”

  This time he kissed her…gently, thoroughly. It was all he could do not to take her back upstairs and love her again, and again. But he could be patient. There was plenty of time now. They had the rest of their lives, together.

  And he could hardly wait to prove his appreciation.

  * * * *

  Sydney almost decided to stay at the Leaning T forever, starting now. For once in her life, she knew she’d made the right choice. Everything about Cam was so right.

  But first, she had to clean up the aftermath of Mr. Wrong.

  Cam drove her home, with plans in place for her to go back to the ranch tonight for dinner. He was even going to cook for her again. He wasn’t quite ready to try being social with the rest of the town yet—but she was more than happy with just the two of them. They had a lot of catching up to do.

  At the house, she found her mom in the kitchen, surrounded by baked goods in various stages of completion. Marnie didn’t notice her right away, and she almost wimped out and slipped upstairs to her room. But the sooner she broke the news, the faster everyone could get rid of the idea of her and Tommy.

  She cleared her throat, and her mother turned with a smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, grabbing a dishtowel to wipe her hands off. “We got your note. Did you have a good time last night?”

  “Um. Well…”

  “Don’t worry. You don’t have to give me details,” she said with a wink. “By the way, I’m guessing you rode home with Luka? Tommy called a few minutes ago.”

  “Did he.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “Why would he do that?”

  Marnie’s smile fell away. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

  She sighed. “You’d better sit down, Mom. I need to tell you something.”

  They sat at the kitchen table, and Sydney spilled her guts. She left out the part about sleeping with Cam—twice—but she told her mother about walking in on Tommy and Stephanie, and how Cam rescued her from the bar, and why she figured Tommy had only proposed to her out of spite.

  By the time she finished, Marnie was madder than a hornet.

  “What a horrible…person he is,” she said with obvious restraint. “I should go and have a talk with Boyd about his son. He can’t go around—”

  “Mom, it’s all right.” Sydney smiled and squeezed her hand. “Tommy and I are through. And to be honest, I’m relieved.”

  Well. To be honest, so am I.” Her mom squeezed back. “I wanted you to be happy. But I’d prefer if you were happy somewhere closer to home. If you’d moved to New York, I would’ve missed you so much, I might’ve made your father move us there, too.”

  She leaned in and hugged her. “I’d miss you too. But now I don’t have to.”

  The tears that wouldn’t come before decided to make an appearance. Marnie got misty right along with her, and it was a few minutes before they could keep talking. “I suppose we still have a lot to do,” her mother said, wiping her eyes with her apron. “We’ll need to cancel the park reservation and the reception plans, and the cake and flowers. Oh, and the order at the printer’s. It wasn’t finalized yet, was it?”

  Sydney twisted her hands in her lap. “Er. About the wedding…it’s kind of still on.”

  Her mother’s brow furrowed. “But you’re not marrying Tommy.”

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “I’m marrying Cam Thatcher.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Afraid not,” she said. “He asked me this morning, and I said yes.”

  Marnie said nothing for so long, Sydney wondered if she would disown her or something. Finally, she broke into a grin. “Well, you do have all this wedding stuff already,” she said. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

  She grinned back, and hugged her mother fiercely. “You’re the best.”

  “I know.”

  They both laughed, and Sydney had to wipe away a few fresh tears. “I just have one question,” Marnie said. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  She remembered the incredible, warm feeling that flooded her when Cam said marry me—it felt like coming home. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said.

  “Then I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She leaned back and sent a bemused grin at the baking-strewn kitchen. “So, whose army are you trying to feed?”

  “Oh, we’re having a bake sale for the library tomorrow,” Marnie said. “I just figured I’d whip up a few things.”

  “A few things.” She shook her head. “Want some help?”

  “Would you? Oh, you’re a lifesaver.”

  “No problem. I just want to change and call Luka real quick, before she hears it from somebody else and kills me in my sleep.”

  “Good idea,” her mother said with a laugh.

  She headed upstairs, dialing Luka’s number as she went. The call went straight to voicemail. “Huh,” she murmured as Luka’s message played. When the tone went off, she said, “I hope this means you’re still with Reese. Call me back when you can, okay? I have… some news.”

  She knew that not saying whether it was good news or bad news would get Luka to call the second she got the message. Tucking the phone back in her pocket, she dashed into her room and changed into sweats. She felt so light, she might’ve floated away like a balloon.

  Tommy had been a weight she didn’t even know she was carrying. And her newfound happiness was just beginning—she could hardly wait for tonight.

  * * * *

  After he dropped Sydney off, Cam got in touch with Eddie Verona. The man wasn’t pleased about losing his investment. But he got a lot warmer when Cam mentioned he was still willing to take Boyd Lowell down.

  They made arrangements, and Cam headed for the Stop ’n Shop on Main Street. One of two grocery stores in Covendale, the S&S was the bigger, cheaper and slightly grimier one. The smaller one, Lorraine’s, was run by the Robertsons. They considered it a “boutique” grocery store and priced things accordingly.

  Once he deposited that check, he could afford to shop at Lorraine’s if he wanted to. But he didn’t. Far as he was concerned, regular food tasted the same as boutique food. Right now all he wanted was to pick up a few things for dinner, and then go home and get ready for Sydney.

  When he walked in, the first thing he saw was Tommy Lowell flirting with one of the cashiers.

  He almost walked back out. He was so furious with the bastard, he wasn’t sure he could be in the same zip code without punching him, much less the same store. But Tommy noticed him—and started for him with an angry sneer fixed on his face.

  “Tommy.” Cam refused to back down. “If you’re going to tell me I should leave because you’re here, you might as well save your breath. Like I said, it’s a free country.”

  “Yeah. You’re free to steal my girl.” Tommy got right in his face and spoke in low tones. “And I’m free to make you pay for it, farm-boy.”

  Cam folded his arms. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Not at all.” Tommy glared another minute, and then grinned. “I bet you fucked her last night,” he said, low enough for only Cam to hear. “She came running to you after I rejected her, and you took it while you could get it. How did it feel having my sloppy seconds?”

  “You’re a sorry bastard.” He had to work hard not to talk with his fists. “You threw away the best thing you ever had for a pair of big tits. How’s that feel?”

  “Pretty goddamned amazing, actually. Steph’s a way better fuck than Sydney.”

  “I swear to God,” he growled, loud enough to turn heads. “If one more word about her comes out of your mouth, you’re gonna find it filled with your busted teeth.”

  A sly grin crossed Tommy’s face. Matching Cam in volume this time, he said, “Are you threatening me?”

  From the corner of his eye, Cam saw someone striding toward them. It was Boyd Lowell. “You just back away from my son, Thatcher,” he said. “You’ve already don
e enough damage, destroying his wedding.”

  He actually heard a few gasps from the people who were gathering near the front of the store to watch the fight. “I don’t believe this,” he said. “You think I broke it up? Why don’t you ask Sydney what she thinks? Or ask your son—”

  “I don’t have to,” Boyd snapped. “I’m sure you think you’re going to get away with this too, but I’d like to see you keep your prize come Monday when you’re homeless.”

  Hot fury surged through him. He stepped forward, and Boyd flinched back. “Let’s get something straight here, Lowell,” he said. “Sydney is not a goddamned prize. And as for being homeless, I’ve got the money for the taxes and I’m paying it on Monday. So I guess you’d better use that big mouth of yours to kiss your fat commission goodbye.”

  He walked past the both of them and ignored the stares from the crowd as he headed for the produce aisle. Maybe it wasn’t the best start on getting back into the town’s good graces—but nobody talked about Sydney like that. Not while he was still breathing.

  Chapter 15

  Sydney pushed the doorbell at the Leaning T promptly at eight. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was. This felt like a first date—with a man who’d already proposed to her.

  Well, sort of. It had been more like a demand, but it was still a hell of a lot more romantic than Tommy’s glib take-a-knee approach at the “surprise” dinner party his parents threw. Especially now that she knew he hadn’t meant a word of it.

  She was about to ring the bell again when the door opened and Cam hauled her inside. For a second she thought there was something out there, some country danger. A rabid raccoon, a stampede of horses, maybe a giant rattlesnake.

  But then he was kissing her like she’d been gone for a month.

  She moaned and melted into the kiss. The way he made her feel was beyond words—she never knew a body could contain this much sensation and still draw breath. When he drew back, she smiled and murmured, “I missed you, too.”

  “Maybe we should move this wedding thing up.” He grinned and kissed her again. “After all that time we didn’t have, I never want you out of my sight. How about we get married tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think the cake’s going to be ready that fast.” She smiled and stepped back reluctantly, and took a deep breath. “That smells amazing,” she said. “What’s for dinner?”

  “It’s just spaghetti and garlic bread. Oh, and salad.”

  “Spaghetti?” She raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like ranch food to me.”

  He shook his head. “Ranch food.”

  “Yeah. You know, like a couple of whole chickens, or a side of beef, or pig’s feet. Or possum stew.”

  “Okay, now I know you’re messing with me.”

  She giggled. “Well, maybe not pig’s feet.”

  “If you really want ambiance, I could open a can of beans and stick a spoon in it for you,” he said with a smirk. “But I draw the line at possum stew.”

  “Spaghetti sounds great,” she laughed. “Is it ready yet? I’m starving.”

  He gave her a long, searing look. “Me, too.”

  A thrilling shudder moved through her, and she almost decided dinner could wait. But she went with him when he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. He’d set the table beautifully, with a wine-colored tablecloth and silver taper candleholders, and a glass vase filled with fragrant lilacs. “You really know your way around a kitchen,” she said.

  “Only thing my mother ever taught me.” He headed for the stove and turned off the burner beneath a big pot, then gave it a quick stir. “She always said that we might live in the sticks, but that didn’t mean we should eat like hicks.”

  “How poetic.”

  He turned to look at her, and the desire in his eyes took her breath away. “Well,” he said. “Guess we should eat.”

  “Yeah.” Suddenly the only thing she was hungry for was standing by the stove, burning hotter than any fire. For her. She smiled and unfastened the top button of her chambray shirt. “How about an appetizer?”

  He was around the table in an instant, pressing her against the wall beside the doorway, his lips on hers. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said hoarsely.

  Before she could say anything more, he scooped her into his arms.

  “Cam!” She threw her head back and laughed. “You really have to stop carrying me around. It’s not dignified.”

  “Don’t want to. Don’t care.” He kissed the hollow of her throat, sending shivers through her, and flashed a wicked grin. “This is how we do it on the ranch.”

  He brought her into the living room and stopped for a kiss. With a hand cupping her ass, he shifted her upright and guided her legs around his waist. “God, Sydney,” he moaned. “I’m not gonna make it all the way upstairs.”

  “You have a couch, don’t you?”

  “Good idea.”

  In seconds she found herself on the aforementioned couch with Cam looming over her, unbuttoning his jeans. “Get undressed,” he rasped. “Please.”

  She was happy to comply, shimmying her pants off quickly. She sat up when he came to her, and opened his shirt buttons while he laid himself bare. At least that bruise looked a little better. She laid a gentle kiss on his ribs—and he sucked in a breath.

  “Oh! Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” He reached down and pulled her shirt over her head. “Perfect,” he whispered, slipping a hand between bra and skin to draw a gasp from her. “You are absolutely perfect.”

  Her breathing quickened as he lowered her gently down and settled between her legs. He trailed his fingers along the underside of her thigh, and the motion made her quiver with pleasure. “Now,” she panted. “I need to feel you inside me.”

  He entered her with exquisite slowness. When he’d filled her completely, he bent to claim her mouth, his tongue darting and tasting. She responded in kind, reveling in the silky heat and the firmness of his lips. Her hands slid along the defined muscle of his back, and she thrust against him, craving motion.

  “Easy,” he murmured against her mouth. “It’s my turn to drive.”

  He started out slow, pulling out almost completely with every stroke before sliding back in. She felt every inch of his rigid cock glide through her, raking sensitive nerves and sparking a slow burn that consumed her from the inside. Just when she was convinced she’d burst into flames, he finally picked up the pace.

  With a guttural moan, she abandoned herself to him.

  He moved with a fluid grace, a steady rhythm that filled her entire body with sensation. Each time she cried out, he drove faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps until she spiraled out of control and came so hard, she didn’t have enough strength left to scream.

  Her nails scored his back. He reacted with a fierce thrust, shuddering all over as he matched her climax in force.

  Then he collapsed alongside her, his face pressed against her neck. “Three times in one day,” he murmured. “You’re killing me, Sydney.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah. But it’s a hell of a way to die.” He raised his head and smiled. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Did you really say you’ll marry me?”

  She smirked, stroking his damp hair. “I think so,” she said. “Then again, you didn’t exactly ask. How could I say no?”

  “Did you want to say no?”

  “Well…”

  He gave her a light shove when she grinned. “I can fix that asking thing,” he said. “But let’s eat first, before it gets cold.”

  As if on cue, her stomach snarled.

  Laughing, Cam got up and gathered her clothes from the floor, and they both dressed.

  But just as he moved to button his shirt, the doorbell rang.

  Sydney frowned. “Are you expecting company?”

  “No. Well, sort of.” He cast a glance at the door. “Eddie was supposed to stop over, but not until later. Much later.”

  A sudden premonition of dread filled her
, but he was already headed for the door. “Cam, wait,” she managed, struggling up from the couch. “Don’t—”

  “What the hell?” he snarled.

  She rushed over to the open door, where Cam stood glaring through it. On the other side was a familiar face—but not one she’d expected to see. She’d gone to high school with Nick Donovan.

  These days, he worked for the Covendale police department.

  Sydney’s heart plunged, and she was sure she’d be sick. Beyond the porch, two police cars with flashing lights were parked at slanted angles behind the trucks in the driveway, as if they wanted to make sure no one could leave. Nick looked unhappy, almost scared. And his hand rested on his gun.

  Cam took a half-step toward the door, and Nick flinched back. His fingers curled around the gun handle. “Mr. Thatcher, we need you to come with us,” he said.

  “Why?”

  Nick blinked. “Well…because we’re arresting you.”

  “What?” Sydney blurted. She grabbed Cam’s hand and squeezed. “Nick, what’s going on here?”

  “Ma’am, please—” He did a double-take. “Sydney?”

  “Yes. Why would you arrest him?”

  “My God. It’s really true.” Nick took another step back, pinning Cam with a wary gaze, and spoke into the microphone attached to his shirt. “Dean, I need you to come up here.”

  Cam made a low, angry sound. “You want to tell me what this is about?” he said, his voice tightly controlled. “Because I’m pretty sure you can’t arrest people for no reason.”

  “Er. Tommy—I mean, Mr. Lowell is pressing charges.” Nick looked jumpier than a cat in a dog pound. “Could you please step outside and face the wall?”

  “Pressing charges for what, goddamn it?”

  Nick’s brow furrowed in confusion. By now the other deputy, a man Sydney didn’t recognize, had reached the porch stairs. At the sound of Cam’s shouted question, he drew his gun. “Hands in the air, Mr. Thatcher,” he said. “Where we can see them.”

  Sydney gasped as he let go and raised his hands, with abject fury etched on his face. “What are the charges?” she said. “He didn’t do anything. This is insane.”