Callie snatched her hands from him. “I’m never getting in that stupid truck again!” she insisted. “You drive, I’ll walk.”
Rylan slammed the truck door. “We’ll both walk.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why aren’t you driving?”
“I want to walk.”
Fear snaked through her. Was he hurt worse than he would admit? Was he afraid he couldn’t shift gears? She ran her eyes over every inch of his lean form, wanting to run her hands over the same areas but doubting he’d appreciate the examination.
“I said I’m all right, dammit!” he groused. “I was just a little winded. You would be too if you got run down by a half-ton truck.”
The thought made her stomach roll. “Half-ton?”
Rylan didn’t argue any more, just turned and started up the lane. The barn was in sight so they didn’t have far to go. Callie lagged behind, watching him closely and prepared to assist if he should get dizzy.
By the time they’d reached the barn he was openly annoyed. He stopped and stared at her until she moved to his side. “I told you I’m all right.”
“And I know you could have a concussion or internal injuries.”
“I’m bruised, not seriously injured.”
“We’ll let the doctors decide that.”
“I’m not seeing any doctors.”
“Are you crazy? I’m calling the emergency squad as soon as we get to the house.”
“You’ll just be wasting their time and yours. “
“Then I’ll take you to the emergency room.”
“No. I’m fine and that’s the end of it. I’ve been hurt worse by a rowdy horse.”
“Rylan, be reasonable. Just let the doctors take some x-rays and make sure you didn’t break anything.”
“My chest took the brunt of the hit, not my head, and my ribs aren’t cracked. I know what that feels like. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” she snapped. “You’re a big, stubborn idiot!”
“Well you’re a little, stubborn idiot. I’ve made up my mind so quit harping.”
Temper flared in her eyes yet she didn’t respond. She felt emotionally raw. She didn’t need the added aggravation of Rylan Masterson’s bull-headed remarks.
Without another word she stomped her way to the house.
* * * * *
Callie showered and took a short nap. It was dark when she woke and the house was quiet. She switched on the light and stood in front of her mirror. It took half an hour to make herself presentable and get dressed. She pulled on a short, white denim skirt, a red tank top and a red and white blouse over the top. After knotting the hem at her waist she stepped into her white sandals and went downstairs.
The house was dark and quiet until she reached the kitchen. Brad was sitting at the table making a sandwich and humming along with a song on the radio.
“Hey there, didn’t know you were still home,” he greeted.
She got a cola from the refrigerator and sat down at the table with him. “I fell asleep,” she explained, snatching a piece of his cheese and popping it into her mouth.
“Right after you ran down Rylan with the truck?”
Callie choked when the cheese got stuck in her throat. She coughed a couple times and then took a long drink. Her eyes were watering by the time she glared at Brad. His eyes danced with devilment.
“That was a low blow,” she charged.
He grinned unabashedly. “Rylan assured me it was an accident.”
“Did he tell you he refused to go to the hospital?”
“He didn’t really want to talk about it.”
“Then why did he bring it up in the first place?”
“He didn’t. I asked why the truck was sitting out by the far gate. He explained that it was giving you problems.” He stopped then to take a bite of his sandwich, making her impatient for him to finish.
“So what else did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing? He obviously told you about the accident.”
“Not right off,” he continued to tease her. “If I hadn’t seen the bruises on his chest he wouldn’t have told me anything.”
The blood drained from her face. “Bruises?” she asked faintly.
“Right across his chest,” Brad explained. “Clear enough to identify the truck bumper. All multicolored purple and blue.”
Her stomach revolted and she thought she would be sick. Taking a deep breath, she chastised him for poking fun at something so serious.
“You’re horrible!”
Brad laughed cheerfully. “I thought it was kinda neat. Too bad Sammy wasn’t here. He’d be really impressed.”
“Brad! That’s enough! It’s no joking matter. Rylan could be badly hurt. He might have internal damage. I can’t believe you didn’t insist he see a doctor.”
An unconcerned shrug accompanied his response. “He’s a big boy. He knows if he’s hurt or not. He’s taken harder knocks and shaken it off.”
“Shaken it off?” Her temper spiked. “It’s not like a boo-boo that can be kissed and made better. That truck slammed right into him!”
“So he said.” Brad’s eyes continued to sparkle devilishly. “He wasn’t too happy about the assault with a deadly weapon but he did mention you smelled better than when you attacked him with skunky clothes. Did he strip and let you carry him to the shower this time?”
Callie could have strangled him with her bare hands. The look she gave him was pure venom but he just kept grinning. Deciding he was in no mood to be reasonable, she changed the subject.
“Is Chuck home?”
“Jessie helped us with the clinic. He stayed in town with her. How come you’re still home?”
“I don’t have any plans. How about you?”
“I’m going back to town to make a house call.”
“House call? On Saturday night?”
Brad just gave her another wicked grin. “Special patient,” he teased. “After that, I might join Rylan.”
She hated herself for asking but couldn’t resist. “Where is he?”
“He went to the Lucky Spur to shoot pool.”
The Lucky Spur was one of the two bars located on the outskirts of town. She’d never been inside either yet she knew the Lucky Spur was the most popular.
“Do many women go there?”
“Sure, but mostly with dates or to get picked up. Not too many decent women hang out there.”
“What if I just showed up? Would it seem blatantly obvious that I want to check on Rylan?”
Brad laughed outright. “Pretty blatant since you’ve never stepped inside the place before and you’re not exactly the bar-hopping type. I’ll drop you off and come back to pick you up if you want. You’ll be fine as long as Rylan’s there.”
“You don’t mind me tagging along?”
Brad gave a long-suffering sigh. “I get so tired of beautiful woman wanting to tag along with me but I’ll make an exception in your case.”
Callie smiled at his clowning. She was worried sick about Rylan yet Brad’s attitude relieved her a lot. She knew he wouldn’t be teasing her so much if he didn’t think Rylan was okay. As always, he was trying to lift her spirits and allay her guilt.
“Then hurry up and eat.”
* * * * *
The Lucky Spur was a long concrete building surrounded by dusty, graveled parking lots. A red neon spur hung from the tin roof. Blinking beer advertisements in the windows were the building’s only other adornments.
Brad stopped at the entrance once he’d spotted Rylan’s truck. The sound of laughter and music greeted them as Callie swung open her door.
“Want me to come in with you?”
“I’m too old for a babysitter, Brad.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks for the ride.”
She wasn’t feeling so confident as she shoved open the door of the bar. A wave of heat, stale cigarette smoke and loud music engulfed her and it took
a minute for her senses to adjust to the cloudy atmosphere.
There was a horseshoe-shaped bar in the center of the main room with a collection of tables scattered all around it. To the left was a small dance floor. Music supplied by a jukebox had a few couples swaying back and forth.
At the far right was a separate area with several pool tables. It didn’t take long for Callie’s gaze to find Rylan. He was dressed in jeans and a bright blue plaid shirt. His hair looked golden under the lights. He was holding a pool cue in one hand and a long necked beer bottle in the other. Her heart did a little flip-flop and her breathing hitched. He was so incredibly handsome. Just the sight of him made her feel warm and secure.
She loved him so much.
Today’s scare had hammered that fact home. She loved Rylan Masterson deathlessly, hopelessly. No other man had ever made her heart race out of control. Her mouth went dry yet her palms were sweating. She’d loved him for years. Nothing and nobody was going to change that. Bracing herself for whatever she might encounter, Callie walked across the room in his direction. She hadn’t wanted to attract any attention but a low wolf-whistle and some catcalls followed her progress.
Rylan and his opponent stopped playing long enough to see who was creating the stir. As soon as his gaze met hers the warmth Callie had felt turned to liquid heat. For a brief instant his eyes lit with unguarded emotion. They greeted her with enough welcome to make her legs go weak.
“Hey, Callie! Come join us,” urged one bold cowboy. He and another man she vaguely recognized were sitting at a table near the pool room. She recognized a couple of the ranch hands too. They called out and she raised a hand in greeting but didn’t stop until she was in front of Rylan.
“Lost?” he asked, his gaze roaming her face in a slow, thorough caress.
“Not now,” she whispered softly.
“Here by yourself?”
“Brad dropped me off on his way to town.”
“Checking up on me?”
“What if I am?”
“It depends,” he replied. His expression grew shuttered. He took a long drink of his beer and then studied the label before lowering his voice in a seductive warning. “I’m feeling pretty restless tonight, Menger. Maybe even reckless. It might not be too safe to hang around with me.”
Her heart thudded heavily with his warning. “What if I’m feeling a little restless and reckless too?” she managed through a tight throat.
A spark flared to life in his eyes but was swiftly doused. “Just lookin’ for a good time?”
“Just lookin’ for you,” she insisted as she returned his unwavering stare.
For a long moment they continued to stare into each other’s eyes, isolated in the midst of a crowd and aware of nothing besides the need for a more tangible connection.
“Hey, Rylan, your turn to break.”
The fragile link was broken and Callie glanced at the cowboy who’d jerked them back to the present. She’d seen him around but didn’t know him. He was one of the Mastersons’ neighbors.
“We’ve got a contest going,” Rylan explained. “I’ve gotta play the winner of that last round. Want a drink or something to eat while I play?”
“I’ll order something,” Callie told him. She took a step back and slid onto a barstool while he approached the table again.
They were playing eight ball and Rylan broke the balls. She ordered a rum and cola with some hot nachos then watched as he moved around the pool table. She never got tired of watching him and it was a pleasure to do so without monitoring herself.
Such a nice, tight rear end, she mused as he bent over the table. She loved the way his jeans hugged his hips and thighs. Loved his long, strong legs. Loved the play of every firm muscle in his back, arms and shoulders. There wasn’t much about him she didn’t love.
Cal Watkins, an old friend, called to her from one of the other pool tables, telling her he could use some luck. She just smiled and shook her head. Another man tried to coax her to dance but she politely refused. Her gaze didn’t stray far from Rylan.
A few minutes later he missed an important shot that cost him the game. His opponent jeered. “Game’s a little off tonight, isn’t it, Masterson? Get stepped on by a bull or something?”
Callie didn’t hear Rylan’s response. She saw his hand go to his chest and a rush of guilt washed over her. He was obviously stiff and sore. Who wouldn’t be under the circumstances? She was frowning when he walked back to the bar. He quickly dropped his hand but she was off the stool and in front of him immediately. She splayed one of her hands on his chest.
“Are you hurting?” she asked anxiously. “I knew you should have gone to the emergency room.”
Their gazes connected again and the dark turbulence in his eyes caused the air to whoosh out of her lungs. She didn’t trust herself to interpret the sensual message he was sending. She wanted him to want her so badly that she was afraid to hope.
“Nothing that a little TLC couldn’t cure,” he replied in a low, husky tone. He put one of his hands over hers and held it tight to his chest.
Surprised by the blatant invitation in his voice, Callie wondered at his change in attitude. Instead of pushing her away, as he had done lately, he seemed to be encouraging her. It was a welcome change yet also confusing. Never having seen Rylan drunk, she wasn’t sure how much his mood was being affected by alcohol.
“You haven’t been interested in any TLC lately,” she reminded.
He held her gaze for a long minute before responding. “I might be now.”
Callie trembled. There was no mistaking the suggestive tone. He wasn’t playing games. He wanted her. A burst of shouting and laughter drew their attention back to the tables. Somebody had sunk the cue ball in a side pocket. Another game was finished and the competitors were moving into the final challenge.
Rylan hung up his pool cue and turned to watch. He leaned against the bar and drew her in front of him. Then he rested his chin on her head and wrapped both arms around her waist. With a gentle tug he urged her to lean back against his chest.
She tried to concentrate on the pool game but it was impossible. Especially after Rylan started burrowing his face beneath her hair. His warm breath tickled her ear and goose bumps shivered down her spine. His voice was heavy with huskiness as he murmured. “If I kiss you right here,” his lips brushed the tender flesh behind her ear, “will you shiver and feel it deep inside?”
The butterfly kiss garnered the reaction he’d expected. A tremor shot through her.
“If I nibble right here,” he said, brushing his lips against the back of her neck, “will your breasts swell and your nipples pucker up real tight?”
Callie couldn’t even pretend to watch the game any longer. Everything but Rylan’s touch faded in significance. She closed her eyes and leaned more fully against him. His arousal pressed against her in a sensual taunt and heat spiraled deep inside, just as he’d predicted.
Rylan’s hold on her shifted and his forearms brushed against her breasts. Her nipples pearled tighter. He murmured encouragingly as he felt the reaction.
She knew they had to get out of the bar before she made a complete fool of herself. She was melting on the spot. When his teeth grazed her sensitive flesh again she uttered a small moan.
“Ready to go?” His voice was hoarse with arousal.
Callie knew if they left she’d be branded as Rylan’s woman for all eternity. She knew he’d had too much to drink and that his defenses were down but she didn’t care about anything except being alone with him.
“I’m ready.”
He tucked her under one arm while tossing some bills on the bar for their tab. They made their way out of the bar without a backward glance. Some taunting and ribald laughter followed their retreat but neither of them cared.
Rylan helped her into his truck, slammed the door, circled the front and climbed behind the wheel. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot without saying another word.
When they’d traveled several miles in heavy silence Callie started to get nervous. Then he reached over to grab her arm, tugging her close to his side. She didn’t need any further invitation.
Snuggling as close as possible, she pressed against him while clasping his right hand in both of hers. She stroked each finger separately, loving the feel of the calloused skin. She interlocked their fingers and then slowly lifted his hand to place a tender kiss on his palm.
A low moan escaped Rylan. She felt his shudder and her confidence began to return. It awed her to think that her touch could affect him so deeply. Next she took his thumb into her mouth and sucked it gently.
The sound he made caused her pulse to leap and race and set her blood on fire. Then he was pulling her hand to his mouth, bathing it with his tongue. His hot, wet lips made heat pool in her belly.
“Rylan!” Her whisper was rough and needy.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” he insisted gruffly. “See what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me since you came home?” He drew her hand down his body and pressed it against the fullness in his lap.
Callie felt the thick ridge of flesh beneath the denim. It was granite hard and it fascinated her. She wanted to explore. She wanted to learn all about him. When she squeezed and stroked, Rylan inhaled sharply and more of her inhibitions were lost.
His hand went to his belt, trembling slightly as he unbuckled it and unsnapped his jeans. His bulging flesh forced the zipper down, giving her better access.
She fondled him through the soft cotton of his briefs, awed by the deep, guttural sounds he made and the way his body throbbed at her touch. It gave her a heady feeling of power. Emboldened, she pushed aside fabric and grasped the hard, satiny flesh. A ragged groan rumbled from Rylan’s chest as his hips bucked.
He abruptly turned down an unmarked lane and pulled to the side of the road. After shutting off the engine he slid the bench seat back to give them more space.
“Stop!” His voice was low and raspy with tension as he grabbed her hand to halt the caresses. “Much more and I’ll come apart!”
She slid back to her side of the seat and urged him to follow. When he’d shifted, he scooped her into his lap. She straddled his thighs, her skirt riding up to her hips. Wild anticipation coursed through her.
A Cowboy's Charm Page 6
