Cowboy Come Home

by Sinclair Jayne

  “Telford, she’s got you tied down faster than any calf you ever roped.”

  “Ignore him,” Piper said, pulling him further into the bar toward the band and away from the entrance. She stroked the back of his neck with her fingers. Boone breathed away the need for action and leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. Piper always centered him.

  “I think you’re going to have to add caveman to your résumé,” Piper said lightly.

  “Starting to feel like I might.” He spun her in fairly tight circles despite the fact that they were the only ones dancing. His hand skimmed along her waist and rested on her hip. He wanted to touch the bling on her butt, but he knew his dad and men who’d known him his entire life were watching and wouldn’t let that action go unremarked.

  “You bought a western shirt,” he said.

  “You like?”

  “Pretty crazy about it with you in it. You wearing a bra?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “You’ll have to find out, cowboy.”

  His hand smoothed down her back, and he sucked in a breath. “Pretty sure you’re going to kill me before the short round on Sunday.”

  “You’re tough.”

  “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting.”

  “You’ve been playing pool.” Her eyes, always so mystical to him with the way they changed from green to gray and back again depending on her mood and the light, seemed to laugh at him. “Boys and their sticks.”

  “I can show you mine if you want,” he whispered in her ear. Naughty, wanting to make her laugh. Instead she bit her plump lower lip that had starred in so many fantasies these past months and looked up at him. Uncertain.

  He felt something strange wash over him. Icy cold and in a wave that felt like it could toss him off-balance. It was almost like the time his little sister Riley had fallen off her horse when it had spooked. Instead of running off, it had danced, agitated next to her, and he’d hurtled the arena fence, feeling like he couldn’t move fast enough.

  “Piper?”

  She didn’t answer, but she nestled closer, her cheek against his sternum, over his heart.

  She was close. Way too close. No way would his dad not notice—and wonder. She had her thumbs hooked in his back pockets, her body glued to his, moving with him. And it felt damn perfect. And Boone didn’t have the heart or the balls to peel her off him.

  He avoided looking at his dad, as he guided Piper around the small dance floor in a slow two-step only with no turns or promenade. The song was a dreamy ballad, and it ended way too soon.

  “You have fun in town?” he asked over the last chord as it faded into silence.

  “I walked along a part of the Main Street, and it’s really called that. Main Street. It’s like a movie set. So cute. Everyone is so friendly. I put up cards at Big Z’s and the feed store and Western Wear and the coffee shop like you suggested. I also bought you some chocolate cowboy boots for later if we work up an appetite.”

  “Lots of ways to do that on and off the dance floor.”

  She playfully deepened her hip swing against his. Laughed when she felt his instant response.

  “You found Sage’s did you?” He tried to keep his mind G rated.

  “How’d you know her name?”

  “You read to me all about the town, the history, the parade, the picnic, the steak dinner.”

  “Don’t forget the pancake breakfast.”

  “Never miss it.”

  Lightning really needed to strike him down.

  The band broke into an upbeat version of Chris Stapleton’s “Parachute” and Boone lead Piper around the floor fast with a lot of flair and finesse not often seen outside the competitions. He felt his mood improving. He’d always loved to dance and the fact that Piper had been a dancer before she’d studied massage meant that she matched his energy and loved it as much as he did.

  He loved how her slim, supple body felt moving with his. She made him feel strong and certain of who he was and his place in the world. But then reality continued to crash back through the chute, and he was left feeling like he needed to be more…more something.

  After their third song, he was aware that the pool game had finished. His dad and another local rancher and stock contractor, Luke Wilder, sauntered back to the bar, deep in conversation with Luke’s wife, Tanner. She grinned, pulled off her hat with a dramatic sweeping motion, her bright red ponytail spilled over one slim shoulder. “Hey, Boone,” she called out. “Enjoy your dance because I expect one of my beautiful bulls to toss your ass off Saturday so you’ll be too sore to show off your dancing skills at the steak dinner and dance.”

  Luke jerked a nod in his direction, failing to hide his smile.

  “You’ll be disappointed.” Boone couldn’t let that slide, but this was all going to go badly soon. He needed to explain to Piper and not make a big deal about it. She’d understand. And it wasn’t like he had to make some huge ultimatum this weekend. Rodeo weekends were the worst time to make any life changes. Distractions led to serious injuries. Even death. He needed to do his job—win or place high in his events, earn some money and help his father ensure that the opening went well tomorrow.

  Time for decisions Sunday when he headed home.

  He just wanted more time with Piper.

  “You’re thinking enough for an entire school,” Piper said, looking into his eyes.

  “I’m thinking maybe we should get out of here,” he said ruefully because that part was at least true. If he continued to dance with Piper, his dad would definitely know it was far more than casual. He was practically flashing a neon sign as it was.

  “All you need to do is ask.”

  “Let’s go.” He spun her toward the door, slipped an arm around her waist and then walked out fast. He raised his hand in the air in a general ‘see y’all later.’

  His dad would probably be shocked at his abrupt departure with a girl, but hell, he was twenty-five. Cowboys on the tour hooked up all the time for the weekend. Or the night. Or an afternoon. But Piper was not a hookup, and it burned a little that his dad might think she was.

  *

  The minute the late-afternoon sun slanted across them when the swinging doors of Grey’s Saloon swung shut behind them, Boone pulled Piper into a tight hug. He hadn’t meant to. Total reflex. Piper sighed and looped her arms around his neck, her fingers already playing in his hair, which sent shivers down his spine. He didn’t think it was possible but he hardened even more.

  “Sometimes I wish I could just hold you without that part of me interrupting,” he confessed.

  Piper stood on her tiptoes. Her soft laughter teased his neck as she nuzzled him and then pressed soft kisses against his jaw.

  “I’m addicted to your interruptions. Trailer?” she questioned.

  Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could make it there. She was moving against him subtly as she kissed him, and then her teeth caught his lower lip. Boone groaned low in his throat. He sounded like an animal. He felt like one, but they were on Main Street Marietta and it was still daylight. Then she stood on her tiptoes, angling her body so that his erection pressed against her taut abdomen.

  “Baby, you are not making this easy,” he hissed even as he kissed her back, feeling his hunger grow. He wanted to let it slip its leash.

  “Wasn’t trying to.”

  “Let’s get you fed,” he said trying to think of something practical, mundane, not Piper naked spread across his navy and taupe comforter.

  She slipped her hands down his pockets and grabbed his ass.

  “Sounds like a plan. I love what’s on the menu.”

  He marshaled discipline he didn’t know he had—maybe helped by the fear that his dad could walk out any minute with a handful of the rodeo committee members—men he’d known all his life—and he didn’t want to be groping Piper in the doorway.

  “Guacamole,” he said a little desperately, his brain barely engaged, and why he’d jumped on that, he had no idea. Boone didn’t eat a lot
of green things, and when he did, it was because he was trying to please Piper, and this year he’d been more focused on his health for the long haul. “Mexican. There’s a new Mexican restaurant in town.” Hell if he could remember the name right now.

  “Rosita’s,” Piper said, pulling away from him. “I saw it during my walk.”

  Boone gulped in some air, wishing it were arctic so he could cool down and drag his mind out of the bedroom.

  “But I wanted to walk around town with you,” she said softly, scuffing the toe of her green boot along the sidewalk. “But since you’ve competed here, you’ve probably already explored everything.”

  The sweet innocence of her comment ripped through him and lodged hot and malevolent like a bullet in his gut.

  “Piper,” he whispered. He had to tell her. He needed to tell her.

  But then what?

  He’d hurt her.

  And he’d have to explain something he didn’t really understand. This need that burned.

  Or they’d fight. She’d leave.

  Damn, he was not ready for that. He felt a million miles from ready. And this was his hometown. He had to keep his focus on his events. Making up for last year. Not get sucked up in a drama of his own making.

  “Maybe after dinner we can walk down Main Street in the dark with the stars out and the courthouse lit up. I bet it will be magical.”

  He just stared down at her—her upturned face so loving and accepting. The smallest moments made her happy. He was the most undeserving idiot in Montana. Hell, the whole US.

  He had to clear his throat to speak around the lump there. Still he was hoarse. “You’re the magic one, Piper.”

  She slipped her hand in his and they started to walk down Main Street toward Rosita’s. Boone hadn’t been in before. His oldest brother Witt had told him about it. He and his wife, Miranda, met there often for dinner after work with their adopted daughter.

  He hoped tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

  “Let’s order takeout,” he suggested.

  Piper’s eyes darkened with desire, and he felt an answering throb thump through him. “With extra guacamole.”

  “Since making guac is practically a religion for you, and you eat it with baked kale, I doubt this is going to pass muster,” he teased.

  “You never know. These small family-run restaurants are the backbone of America. I saw a diner in town. Main Street Diner. On Main Street. I love the lack of pretension. This is America. Something I feel like I’ve been looking for all my life.”

  Boone didn’t quite know what to make of that.

  “My dad, the colonel. He served America—the people of America, but we were rarely in America. The Americans I met were Army or contractors and their families. I always wondered what small-town America was like. What my dad was fighting for.”

  Boone nodded, thinking of his brother, Rohan, and his service, the places he’d been, and the places Piper had lived. He probably couldn’t find all of them on a map.

  They ordered takeout and waited at the bar, holding hands, Piper sipped a margarita and shared it with him while they waited.

  Boone paid, frowning when Piper pulled out her wallet. She really should know better than that by now. He wanted to take care of Piper.

  She was his. He remembered the wave of possession that had rolled over him on the dance floor at Grey’s. He had to stop thinking that way.

  “You ordered a lot of guac,” the server said with a bright smile as she handed over the bagged-up food. “Want me to slip in an extra order of chips?”

  Boone took the bag, opening his mouth to say that more chips would be great, but Piper beat him to it.

  “No thank you,” Piper said cheerfully already turning to walk out.

  “Why not extra chips?” Boone asked following her. Piper worshipped green food. Chips and salsa was Boone’s take me to church moment. And he would happily munch on them every day. Tomatoes were a vegetable. Or were they a fruit? Piper would know.

  “Don’t need them,” Piper said.

  “I do.”

  Piper turned around, her walk a little saucy, and Boone found his eyes riveted on the sway of her hips in the blinged-out jeans—jeans that had caused her to look at him so doubtfully when he’d bought them.

  She turned around and blew him a kiss. “The guac is not for the chips.”

  “Come again?” Boone stopped on the sidewalk.

  Piper’s eyes sparkled with mischief. She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a container of guac. She popped the lid.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said playfully.

  “Always dangerous,” Boone shot back.

  “I think I’ve come up with a way to get you to eat more guac,” she said, dipping her finger in and smearing a little on her upper lip. Her tongue poked and languidly scooped up the guac. “Mmmmmmmm,” she hummed and let her eyes drift shut. She looked like she did before she orgasmed, and Boone could barely walk. Again.

  “Let’s go.” Boone seized her arm and speed-walked down Main Street, Piper keeping pace, laughing at him.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Starved.”

  Chapter Five

  Boone felt nearly desperate by the time they reached the trailer. His hands shook and he fumbled the keys.

  “Let me help you.” Piper slid around him onto the step.

  Some help. On the second step of the trailer her rounded ass brushed against his groin. And she did it on purpose. Her eyes gleamed green as she looked at him over her shoulder.

  “Hurry,” he hissed.

  “Such a rush.”

  Piper slid the key into the lock.

  “I can take all night if you want,” Boone promised.

  After he made Piper scream. Then took his edge off. Then took care of Sundance for the night.

  Piper unlocked the door, but before she could step inside the trailer, he wrapped his arm around her waist and picked her partially up and boosted her into the trailer. And then he slammed the door behind him. Like a savage. Like someone he didn’t recognize. And didn’t care. He tossed the takeout bag on the table.

  “Boone.” Piper was already in his arms, and his shirt was unsnapped and on the floor. “You should eat first. Keep up your stamina.”

  “Stamina’s fine,” he said pulling off his T-shirt with his right hand, and tossing it behind him.

  “I’ll feed you,” she whispered, her lips against his chest, the tip of her tongue already working its magic.

  “Intend to eat,” he said as she grabbed hold of the belt buckle he’d won for steer wrestling at the Wild Horse Stampede in June and walked backward toward the back of the trailer. She shed one boot and then the other without stumbling.

  “Pretty fancy move,” he said, thinking he was way behind since she was fully clothed and he’d tossed his hat and shirt and Piper’s dexterous fingers had already opened his belt buckle as he walked her back. Or was she pulling him? He loved how she was so into his body. So into him.

  “You like that move?” Her voice had gone totally husky now, and her eyes that had stayed riveted south of his buckle flicked up to his face. “How ’bout this one?”

  One leg slid between his, and crooked around his knee. Holding his shoulders, she twisted him around and the pressure on the back of his knee took him down on the bed.

  “Not going to object,” he said pulling on her thick ponytail enough so that he could tug off the elastic. Her hair fell around him and he briefly closed his eyes savoring all that silk and her lemon and honeysuckle scent. Who would have guessed he’d be such a scent slut? “Although that slick move has me thinking.”

  “About?” Her voice edged with excitement as she straddled him, her knees wide and her hands splayed along his hips.

  “Ropes,” he said.

  He’d shocked her. Piper’s pupils flared and her breath caught.

  “I used to be part of a team,” he said. “Top five most rodeos. Still pretty good roping calves.”<
br />
  “So now I’m a calf?” She nipped his pec hard enough to make him wince. “Does that line go over well with the bunnies? Get you a line outside your trailer?”

  “Been known to make a few hearts flutter,” he admitted. “But I’m not interested in a line, Piper.”

  She slid her body down his, her eyes slumberous and dark with desire.

  Damn, she made him crazy. He’d never even thought of roping a woman before, but with Piper, she made him feel like anything was possible. Every day was an adventure.

  And that was the end of his thought as she leaned over him and with her teeth caught the edge of his 501s and tugged. One button. Then another. And another.

  “You remembered,” she said softly and kissed her way down the narrow blond arrow of hair below his navel. His erection unencumbered by Jockeys, sprang free.

  “Still think commando makes me a perve.”

  He was already leaking and at full attention when Piper released the last button of his jeans.

  “No, it makes me so hot for you.” She did a slow swipe with her tongue around his sensitive tip. “Especially when I see you talking to other people, knowing you’re mine and always ready for me.”

  He groaned and swore as she engulfed him with her hot, sweet mouth. The things she did with her tongue were X-rated, and Boone fought the urge to thrust into her moist heat. Piper was strong, but so delicately made. He was always afraid he’d hurt her.

  “And when you’re working with Sundance or fixing something with the truck or trailer or helping another cowboy, I love to think about standing behind you and unbuttoning your jeans, just a few buttons to release you and then I’d stroke you until you’re hard.”

  That would take about half a second. Boone gripped the comforter and bit back a moan.

  “My hand would be soft, but the denim rough against your swollen cock.”

  The visuals she created drove him insane.

  Sometimes she’d talk dirty to him when they’d be on the highway, and he’d have to find a place to pull over.