Oh, for the love of orange soda. She mentally cursed Edward, agreeing with her sister’s porcine statement. “So then what happened?”
“As soon as he considered it proper and polite, he excused himself. He left me sitting in the dining room at a table full of people I didn’t know, with them looking at me all sympathetic. I pretended to finish my dinner still having a grand ol’ time and went back to the cabin as soon as I could. He wasn’t there. Ainsley, what happened?”
“I don’t know, honey. Maybe Edward forgot what it was like to relax and have a good time and your gorgeous sexy self scared him.” Coward, she amended.
Cecelia took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll tell you one thing. If he thinks I’m going to slink around avoiding him, he’s more wrong than someone thinking Mom spreads sunshine and happiness.”
“Good for you!”
“We’re going to leave this ship as a couple and everyone else be damned!” Her renewed determination came through in her voice.
“That’s right!”
“But first I have to find him.”
Ainsley gave a small chuckle at Cecelia’s show of humor and grit. Her sister would get what she wanted. For all her rebellious activities, she always knew the right thing to do. “I’m still counting on pelting you with birdseed.”
“How’s the cowboy?”
“He’s… tall.” She wasn’t going to complain about some guy—or analyze her rapid heartbeat—when Cecelia’s heart was breaking. She got up from the bench and stretched, then took a few steps away. “Too melodramatic. Not really my type. Good thing I’m not really here to catch me a hus—”
“Watch out!” Ainsley heard the warning a split second before the sound of hoof beats pounding into the earth thundered in her direction. She threw herself into the herb garden as the ground beneath her shook from the force of the hooves. She covered her head to shield herself, her heart echoing the vibrations and drowning out all other sound. Dirt filled her nose and she got a mouthful of basil, but she stayed prone on the ground. Fear of the pain she would feel when she got trampled kept her from moving. Plants rustled next to her and she whimpered a little, but the cause was human and not equine. And smelled like pine and hay.
“Ainsley!”
She tentatively lowered her arms and risked a glance upward. Riley crouched next to her, concern spread over his face. “Are you all right?”
Anger roiled through her. “What the hell, Cowboy? Is this how you treat people out after curfew?” She ignored his outstretched hand and got to her knees, pointedly spitting out dirt.
“Ainsley! What happened? Ainsley?”
Her sister’s panicked voice came from somewhere in front of her. She blindly groped the ground and found her phone. “I’m fine, Ceece. Just took a little trip, that’s all.” She glared at Riley.
“Geez, Ains, I heard the horse and thudding and thought maybe you got trampled. Don’t scare me like that again.” Cecelia’s breath sounded short, as if she’d gone through the experience with her sister.
“I’m fine. Call me later and let me know what happens. Even though these calls must be costing you a fortune.”
“Oh, come on. Sophia’s paying. You sure you’re okay?”
“Like a flower on a summer day.”
Cecelia gave a snort of laughter and hung up. Ainsley shook her phone to clean it before putting it into her back pocket. She crossed her arms and glared at Riley, waiting for him to explain himself.
“You got a little smudge there.” His finger brushed the mess on her cheek, his gentle touch making her nerve endings tingle in its wake. Heat rushed over her body when she imagined his big hands on the rest of her. The moonlight caught a bit of glitter on his neck, shining like a beacon to quench any desire when she remembered Daisy’s story of their heated almost-lip lock.
“Oh, stop it, Cowboy.” She swatted at his hand working its ineffective task, and this time took the offered support when she stood up, missing the feeling of his fingers touching her enflamed skin. She brushed the dirt from her clothes, berating herself for this apparently one-sided attraction, while Riley went to check his horse. “What do you have against this sweater? Really.”
“What?” His brows lowered, creasing his forehead.
“The last time this sweater was in your presence, it ended up on the ground of the greenhouse. Now here you are again and I had to take a nosedive into the herb garden. It’s going to end up smelling like dirty tomato sauce.”
He ran a hand through his thick dark hair. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here. I was on my way to fix a sink in one of the cabins.”
“Really?” Ainsley brightened at the chance to do actual work instead of parading around like a beauty queen. So what if earlier she’d thought he was insane? So what if he probably thought she was a nuisance? “Need some help?”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Riley stiffened and avoided her face before clearing his throat. “It’s messy and wet work. You don’t want to go.”
“I wish you’d stop telling me what to do and what I want, Cowboy. How do you know I don’t want to get wet and messy?”
His mouth quirked and she became grateful for the layer of dirt hiding the blush suffusing her cheeks. She stayed still, letting him get the immature images out of his mind. Finally, he gave her the barest of nods. “We’ll share a mount. No need to bother any more horses tonight.”
His shirt tightened over his flexed muscles when he mounted his horse. She put her foot in the stirrup and used him to pull herself up behind him, his rough, calloused hand surprisingly gentle. Her legs embraced his and she wrapped her arms around his waist. The slightly musky scent of sweat mixed with the smell of outdoors and drifted to her nose. His back was as stiff as a plant stake, his muscles rigid, to allow for as little body contact as possible.
The trotting made her bounce around, her posterior hitting the horse’s hard back, and the saddle’s skirt rubbed her thighs through her cotton pants. She should have changed clothes first. Riley’s stonewall body made it near impossible to move with the animal. “Why did you agree if you didn’t want me to go?” she muttered into his blue shirt.
“What was that?”
“Kitchen or bathroom?” she asked, shifting slightly to get some comfort from the friction but only managing to brush against the cantle. Her legs were going to hate her in about five minutes.
“Kitchen.”
“Is it a washer or an O-ring problem?” She tamped down her surge of satisfaction in the silence that followed as he adjusted to the fact that she might actually know something about fixing leaky faucets.
“I’ll know when I get out there and look at the sink.” His body loosened just a smidgen, but Ainsley took the small victory.
* * *
Riley slowed down Westley, allowing the woman behind him a little more comfort instead of bouncing her around like a sack of grain. The knotty pine walls of the cabin rose up in front of him about half an hour later and he pointed them out to her. Sitting on a horse’s rump was never comfortable, but she had become a good traveling companion. Plus he enjoyed having her lithe body wrapped around his.
He stopped in front of the building and held out his arm so she could use it for balance. “Throw your leg over the horse,” he instructed her. She didn’t move, and he frowned. He couldn’t see her face since her head was buried in his shoulder blade.
“I don’t think I can move.” Embarrassment tinged her voice and her grip tightened.
“Okay. Hold on a minute.” He swung his leg over the pommel but he couldn’t turn with the vise around his waist. “You’ll have to let go.”
“I’ll fall.”
“I won’t let you.” His voice came out a little huskier than he would have liked.
Her grip loosened. She had trusted him without question.
Embers of need flooded his nerve endings, making them tingle, but he quickly cut off the sensation. There was no reason to act like a puppy because some woman
trusted him enough not to let her fall. Big deal. He slid off his horse, then turned and moved his hands to her thigh, stopping short of touching her.
He curled his fingers before shifting his gaze to her face. “I’ll need to hold on to you.”
She nodded and he splayed his hands against her hips, focusing his mind on getting her safely to the ground instead of how good and warm she felt through her thin pants. “Swing your leg over Westley’s rump. You’ll start to fall but I’ll catch you.”
She did as he instructed, her body sliding backward down the length of his, inch by agonizing inch. As soon as she was on the ground, he moved away so the sudden and uncontrollable hardening in his jeans wouldn’t poke her in the back. Her legs were about as supportive as straw, so he guided her the few steps to a chair on the porch, thankful for the distraction. After he saw her safely sitting down, he hobbled his horse and stripped off the bridle, his back to her. He shifted around in the dark, hoping to get less friction on his erection. “Sorry.”
“What was that?”
“I shouldn’t have let you come wearing those ridiculous pants.”
“Oh.” She gave a muffled laugh. “I’ll be fine.”
Good, she wasn’t one of those whiny women who wanted his attention for every little thing. Now that he had his unwanted reactions under control, he made sure the generator was working before he turned on the lights to the cabin and helped Ainsley inside. She stretched at the waist, groaning. Riley tried not to watch her slender curves, but gave it up for a lost cause when she put her fists behind her and arched her back, the material of her green tank straining against her perfectly formed breasts.
How do you know I don’t want to get wet and messy. Her voice echoed in his ears and a sharp longing drove straight to his gut. He had to concentrate on the job at hand, not the woman in front of him, even if he didn’t think she wore a bra. Stale, damp air surrounded him when he hunkered down under the sink. Good. Something to take his mind off his runaway lust. Her legs brushed his as she crouched next to him.
“Is the water off yet?” she asked.
“Doing that now.” The old handle didn’t want to move and he fought with it for a minute before it twisted. She turned the faucet handles to get rid of the water already in the pipes, then twisted one to remove it. She stood with her legs firmly apart, but he suspected it was more from the friction burn than a need for leverage.
He got started on the other handle. When he was finished, she handed him a screwdriver. He glanced at its head, then at the screw. “So you know your way around a toolbox.”
“Yeah.” She took a step back, giving him the space he needed to twist out the screws. The air around him cooled when she moved away. “I own my own store. Saves a lot of money when you can fix things yourself.”
He grunted in response, having to use some strength to remove the screws. He palmed them and stepped back. “What next, Ms. Fix-It?”
Her answering smile knocked him back a couple of feet. It was genuine and natural. His blood pulsed through his body like racing hoofs. Despite his earlier doubts, he knew this woman wasn’t acting, wasn’t using this as an excuse to get close to him. If anything, she was more interested in the plumbing. Too bad for him.
She peeked into the faucet and poked around a bit, then got a flashlight to see better. “Pliers, please.”
He obliged, handing her the tool she requested, and held the light while she did the work. Her trim body stretched over the sink and bent beside it. Her delicate hands maneuvered the tools with confidence and experience. Soon she had removed and replaced both O-rings and was putting the stem assembly back together.
“That was fun,” she said as he tightened the handles and checked the water flow. She propped herself against the wall, her green eyes giving a sexy glint when he turned back to her. “And not nearly as wet or messy as you’d led me to believe.”
No way was that statement an innocent mistake this time. “We’ll have to find something like that for you next time, then.” He had trouble controlling the timbre in his voice and he leaned into her, inhaling her sweetness. The subtle vanilla imprinted on his brain like a duckling to its mother. He wanted to see if her lips tasted like she smelled. He wanted to know if her skin felt as soft as fleece. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, to brush the silky strands that had caressed his cheek while they rode.
He touched her fingers and her heartbeat pulsed in her throat. He caressed her hand before gliding up her arm and confirming the softness of her skin. She could say no. She could stop him with a word or a look or a step away. Slowly he lowered his lips and she raised hers to meet him. He kissed her gently, softly, making sure this was what she wanted, too.
Her hands crept around his shoulders, erasing all space between them. Her breasts pressed into his chest and he longed to touch them. Instead, he increased the pressure of his lips and wrapped an arm around her waist. Her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue darting against his in response.
Fire burned in his gut when her hands crawled over his chest, but she gave him a gentle push. He took a step away and tried to keep from panting like a horse after the Kentucky Derby.
“We should get back,” Ainsley said. Her face was flushed and she sounded a little breathless herself. He nodded and tied the leather tool case together, giving himself time to calm the blood raging through his veins. He held out his hand to her, and her warm fingers linked with his.
This time he had her mount Westley first, her legs on one side. He swung his body behind hers and she nestled into his chest, shifting slightly to avoid the pommel. Every curve of her body pressed against him, but he relaxed, comfortable in the easy silence that marked the end of their evening. She felt good in his arms. Warm and soft, molding to his body with the movement of the horse. He was almost sorry when he approached her cabin.
They dismounted a few yards away from the building so they didn’t disturb Meagan. Riley helped Ainsley off the horse, prolonging their contact. He supported her sore body as she shuffled to her door. Shadows hid her face, but he reached over to pull one of her loose waves to its full length, the silk brushing between his fingers. It fell back over her slender shoulder before he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Ainsley.”
“Good night, Cowboy.” She slipped into her cabin.
Panic struck in a wave of ice when her door clicked closed. He was supposed to be a platonic guinea pig, not get involved with anyone. Women were not high on his list at the moment, and now Ainsley—and maybe Daisy—would think she had some sort of claim on him. No more kissing. No more touching. And definitely no more letting himself be alone with anyone.
* * *
Ainsley didn’t get much sleep that night, leaving her bleary-eyed and yawning at breakfast the next morning. She nursed a cup of coffee while eating some eggs, excited about the prospect of the day.
She had stretched her sore muscles and lain in bed after getting back to her cabin, thinking that she had enjoyed herself too much. When she had ridden with Riley, his unique woodsy scent surrounded her, his solid body made her feel safe. She reveled in proving to him she knew her way around simple repairs and she didn’t need to hide such an unladylike talent. And that kiss—the man had some dangerous lips. They should come with warning labels. After she had undressed for bed, she could still smell him on her shirt and she spent the better part of the night thinking about him. She had to stop. For all she knew, he was kissing someone else right now.
But today was different. She wasn’t here to find love. Or even lust. She’d keep her distance. If he could fall for one of the other women, it wasn’t fair for her to keep him from that. Even if it meant listening to Daisy laugh or bearing with Jewel’s sophomoric insults.
She worked out her still-sore muscles on the trek to the stables, accompanied by several barking dogs that ran circles around her. The horses stood already saddled, and a couple of ranch hands led the inexperienced riders to a practice ring while Cookie assigne
d the experienced ones their horses. Ainsley was paired with a beautiful gray mare. After she checked the saddle, she mounted and trotted around, giving Mystic time to get used to her.
Hooves approached and her horse’s ears perked. Riley rounded the barn, and the slow motion dream-sequence playback started. The rising sun created a spotlight, showing off his beautiful form as the horse kicked up clouds of dust behind him. His full lips opened over white, even teeth and he tipped his hat back. He dismounted in front of her, his eyes so focused on her that the rest of the world melted away.
Only he didn’t. Ainsley shook herself from the fantasies and stepped aside as the other bachelorettes clamored around him, each vying for a snippet of his attention.
“Did you sleep well, Riley?” Leigh asked.
“Uh, yes. Thank you,” he said. She opened her mouth to speak again but Mary Ellen stepped in front of her.
“Will you be riding with us today?” she asked. She must have changed her mind about unsuave men.
“Are you going to take us on a tour of the ranch?” Robin joined the crowd around him, effectively trapping him against his horse. He looked over their cowboy-hatted heads, meeting Ainsley’s eyes, but they shifted away just as quickly. She hadn’t expected that, even if she had told herself to ignore him. He wasn’t supposed to ignore her.
Where had Meagan gone? She found her roommate sitting on her dappled horse talking to the ranch foreman, her blue eyes intent. His brown ones had a similar expression and his hand rested on the saddle beside her, close enough to her leg that he could touch it if he shifted a fraction. That was interesting. And no one else noticed in the middle of the cowboy chaos. Ainsley turned away in a hurry, wanting to give them their private moment.
A sharp whistle pierced her eardrums as Riley got everyone to stop talking. “Saddle up!” he said, getting back on his own horse. “We’re heading out to fix some loose fencing and stock one of our line shacks. Let’s go.”
Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? Page 10
