Cowboy Games

by Wendi Darlin

  “Stick a quarter in this bad boy and let’s go!” She was revved up, an amplified version of the woman he’d met at the airport and spent two days rolling in the grass with.

  He pushed a button on the side of the ride and stepped back. This had to be what she was really like, or maybe the way she had been before life gave her a swift kick in the ass. He wanted to see more of this side of her. Much more.

  The bull eased forward then rose back up. Rebecca’s face was a study in concentration, her movements were carefully calculated, and she did fine until the pace picked up to a buck and her butt shifted to the left.

  “Aaaahhhhh!” she screamed as she landed in a pile of straw on the floor.

  “Not bad,” he said, giving her a hand up. Before he could brush the straw off her back she’d thrown her leg over the machine again.

  “I’m staying on this thing. Start it again, please.”

  “We’re going to be here a while aren’t we?” he asked as he pushed the button.

  She grinned but didn’t answer. There were worse traits than determination, he figured, and stepped back ready to stay until she’d ridden the machine into submission. She stayed on longer this time. The bull worked up to a fervor that had her body flailing back and forth like a rag doll. Her bottom slid again, and her balance became a struggle. She held on, desperate to keep the ride from kicking her off, but in the end the bull won and Rebecca lay in a heap laughing.

  He helped her to her feet. “You like getting thrown around don’t you?”

  She dusted herself off and grinned. “I think I needed that,” she said. “Especially after all that damned rope business. But I’m done now.”

  “You want a drink?” He didn’t have her figured out as well as he thought.

  “Got any soda?”

  Gavin rounded the mahogany bar and filled two glasses with ice. “What do you like?”

  “Diet Coke,” Rebecca said, sliding onto a barstool directly in front of him. He dropped a straw into her drink and skated the glass across the bar.

  “You’re pretty good to your employees,” she said, catching the glass in her palm like she had a habit of bellying up to bars. “This place is nice.”

  “They live here, so we try to make it somewhere they like to be.”

  “You must not have much of a turnover.”

  “About every six months we have a few new faces. They rotate weeks like Garrett and I do, so it makes life a little more challenging. They’ve got homes they leave behind for seven days at a time.” He picked up his drink and came around to take the stool next to hers.

  “Is it hard to find cowboys?”

  “We’ve got a pretty good reputation, and a drawer full of applicants.” Her questions made it easier to keep off more precarious topics, at least that’s what he told himself. And he didn’t mind that she was interested in the business. It was flattering in a way. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you like where you work?”

  “I work out of my house for the most part. The company I’m contracted through is in Wisconsin, so I fly up there a few times a year for meetings, but most everything I do can be handled through email and overnight courier.”

  “Must get kind of boring sometimes.” That would explain why none of the men at the office had been knocking down her door.

  “My sister doesn’t let that happen. She pops in at least three times a day. I’m lucky I get any work done at all.” She smiled at him again and he wished like hell he could be the man who gave her what she needed.

  “How many times has your sister called to check up on you here?”

  “None. She’s got some stuff going on right now. She’s kind of married to a jerk.”

  “Kind of?”

  “No.” Rebecca swirled her straw. “And jerk’s not the right word either. I’m being nice. He doesn’t treat her anywhere close to the way she should be treated.”

  “You should tell her to come out to the ranch for a week.” He breathed a little easier. At least Rebecca had high expectations and wouldn’t likely put up with all the dickheads who were certain to beat a trail to her door. Of course, it was none of his business who she put up with. If he cared that much, he’d pony up to the plate and take a swing at being the kind of man she deserved.

  “Are you trying to hit on my sister?” She narrowed her eyes at him again, a look he didn’t mind that he was getting used to. There was plenty about her he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

  “I wouldn’t dare hit on your sister. I’ve already got my hands full with you.” He spun her stool around facing her body to his. Every promise he’d made to himself since his marriage ended crumbled to dust. There was one woman he was willing to take a chance on and denying it wouldn’t make it any less true. “Would you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” he asked.

  She cocked her head at the question.

  “Off the ranch,” he said, “there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

  “Are you trying to treat me special again?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her smile sent a wave of heat through his chest. “I was wrong about the regular guest thing. I like being treated special.” She put a hand on each of his shoulders and stared him in the eye. “Especially by you.”

  “Does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

  She nodded. “What does that mean to you? What are your expectations?”

  “We’re going to take this slowly,” he said, pressing his mouth to hers in a lip only kiss that left him wanting more, but that he hoped would prove his restraint, his determination not to push her for anything she didn’t wholeheartedly want. “As slow as you need to go. Even if it kills me. Okay?”

  Chapter 6

  Marge followed Clayton along a trail behind the cabins. To one side of a dirt clearing, logs circled a crackling campfire. On the other side, tables were spread with traditional red and white tablecloths and most of the ranch guests were already seated with their cowboys. A smoke pit sent the delicious aroma of barbecue into the air, and gray smoke curled toward the blue black sky.

  She was a million miles from reality and nothing had ever felt more genuine. Something clicked inside her soul, like the cog of a wheel had just fallen into place. Home. That was the feeling. This was a place she belonged. Not here at the resort, but here in this open country, in this unpretentious world where she felt safe and respected. Where she could fill her lungs with air and not breathe in someone else’s opinion of her or take up anyone else’s space.

  With that emotional overload came longing, a need to give herself something that would make her feel as complete as she felt in this moment.

  “Come on, honey. This isn’t a funeral it’s a barbecue.” Clayton handed her a plate loaded with pulled pork, baked beans, corn on the cob and Western rolls. He led her to an empty spot at the end of one of the tables. Rebecca winked as they passed, but turned her full attention back Gavin.

  Marge spread butter over her corn and leaned in close enough that only Clayton could hear. “Have you ever been loved?”

  He shot her a look and shook his head. “Not nearly enough.”

  She lifted her corn. “Harold won’t eat corn on the cob since he got his dentures.”

  Clayton twisted around until he faced her. “And why do we care if Harold eats corn on the cob?”

  “He’s got dentures.”

  Clayton waited, brows raised.

  “He’s old.” She turned the corn, letting the butter slip around the cob. “If I don’t hear from him for a couple of days, I read the obituaries.”

  His hand closed around her wrist.

  “I used to think he would leave her, that I’d be the one at his side when he took his last breath.” She set the corn down and pushed her plate away. “I won’t even know if he dies unless I read it in the paper.”

  “Why are you so committed to someone who gives you so little in return?”

  “In his own way he loves me.”

  Clayton pull
ed her in for a hug. “He doesn’t love you nearly enough.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered, hoping he had a better answer to that question than anything she could come up with herself.

  “Decide what you really want. And then go get it.”

  Over his shoulder, she saw Rebecca pierce a piece of meat with her fork, dip it in barbecue sauce, and offer it to Gavin. His lips closed around the bite, but it was Rebecca that he looked like he was ready to devour. Emptiness engulfed Marge’s heart. Had Harold ever looked at her that way? Had any man?

  * * * *

  As Gavin’s mouth closed around her fork, the back of Rebecca’s neck grew warm as if he’d wrapped his lips around her directly.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I might have to get to work on a new marketing campaign. Fantasy Ranch sauces, even hotter than the cowboys.”

  “You think you’re hot?”

  He shook his head. “Hot to me has a lot less facial hair, softer curves. Something more like you.”

  “So you think I’m hot?” She lifted her tea glass to her lips to cover the broadness of her smile.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  “I can live with that.”

  She stacked her plate with his and tilted her head toward the campfire. “You think we should head over?”

  He squeezed her fingers and escorted her to the circle of logs that surrounded a crackling blaze. Above, stars were scattered around a nearly full moon. Three cowboys had a log to themselves, the firelight danced across their features. One had his mouth and hands around a harmonica, the other two picked out a rhythm on guitars. Their song was full of prairies and storms and cattle and work. Real cowboy life.

  Gavin sat down in the dirt with his back propped against a log, knees bent. Rebecca fit comfortably in the cocoon of his body, her back against his chest.

  Around the fire, fantasy cowboys and guests were lined up along the logs. Most weren’t sitting close enough together to touch, and the ones who were barely brushed shoulders. She tilted her head and looked back at Gavin. He met her eyes with a smile, and his arms settled around her. She could get so used to this man. So used to him.

  She kissed her finger and pressed it to his lips. He caught her gently with his teeth, his tongue grazed her skin. The firelight that burned in his eyes sparked something deep inside. She settled back against him and let the night fall in around her.

  A familiar pair of comfortable shoes sank into the dirt a few feet away. Marge’s cowboy held the back of her arm as she lowered herself to the log.

  “That’s what I want,” Rebecca heard Marge say. She looked over in time to see Marge’s cowboy avert his eyes from her and Gavin. He draped his arm around Marge’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  * * * *

  “Did Rebecca’s luggage show up yet?” Gavin asked from the door of the office.

  Garrett flipped off his computer, shook his head and turned his attention to Rebecca. “I’m afraid not. Ms. Ryder is there anything we can do?”

  “It’d be great if I could wash my clothes again.” Her jeans and blouse were covered in dust and smelled like campfire smoke.

  “Absolutely,” Garrett said. “Gavin will show you where everything is.”

  “He’s not so bad,” Rebecca whispered as soon as they’d gotten beyond earshot of the office.

  “He likes you,” Gavin told her. He opened the door to the mudroom and pulled one of the signature ranch robes from a cabinet. “Everything else is right up here.” He opened a cabinet stocked with detergent and fabric softener. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.” He closed the door behind him.

  Rebecca tossed her clothes into the wash, knotted the robe around her waist and followed the smell of popcorn. With an oversized island and wide counter spaces the kitchen was large enough for the ranch chef and his staff to whip up dozens of meals, but the décor maintained a homey vibe. The stainless appliances were offset with custom maple cabinetry with detailed moldings, and the warm tones in the stone floors and countertops matched the exposed ceiling beams. Gavin set a bowl on the granite counter and pulled a puffed up bag out of the microwave.

  “Up for a movie?” he asked. The scene was so domestic, so warm and unassuming. So unprofessional.

  “Isn’t it getting close to curfew?”

  “Now that you’ve won Garrett over you can get away with murder around here.” He pulled open the drawer to the beverage cooler. “Diet Coke?”

  “Thanks.” Rebecca clasped the cold soda and shivered. Standing this close to Gavin with nothing but a robe on kicked her tingle cells into overdrive. “Why does he like me?”

  “He doesn’t know you stole his wine.”

  “I was set up.” His smile was so irresistible, the urge to kiss him was involuntary, but just as quickly her stomach clenched tight. Thank God he was willing to move at a snail’s pace. To give her the time she needed to get used to sharing herself with someone other than Todd. Would men in the real world be as patient? Did she even want to find out? She knew she couldn’t really have Gavin, but she also knew the attraction they shared wasn’t going to happen with most of the men she’d meet back home. It may not happen with any of them.

  He emptied the popcorn into the bowl and led her into the family room. The room was so different from any other part of the ranch she’d seen, less polished but every bit as comfortable. This wasn’t part of the resort, it was Gavin’s home. Family photos and old trophies filled the shelves. The walls held more photos and a collection of Western artwork. The rectangular pine coffee table was made for kicking your feet up on and the wood floor had worn footpaths and well-used rugs.

  “Why don’t you choose the movie, and I’ll run upstairs and get out of these dirty jeans,” he said. “Garrett owns every chick flick ever made, so I’m sure you’ll find something.” He swung open a door on the wall-to-wall armoire to reveal a top-to-bottom stack of DVDs. “They’re in alphabetical order,” he said.

  Alone in the room, she selected a movie quickly and made herself comfortable on the distressed leather sofa. Somewhere above her, Gavin was getting naked, not an image she minded. The room was cool, but the memory of his arms around her kept her warm until he returned looking comfortable and hotter than ever in a t-shirt and loose sweats. The easy fit of the soft fabrics made her want to just curl into him and stay awhile. The cowboy getup was way overrated. He didn’t need it.

  He took the movie from her hand and grinned. “Finally, a woman with taste.”

  He put the DVD in the player and settled down next to her with the remote in his hand. Seconds later, the television screen filled with a carload of people traveling along a dark rural road. Fog hung within inches of the ground.

  “My guess is everybody but the driver will be dead before this is over,” she said, reaching for the popcorn.

  “You haven’t seen it?”

  “Uh uh. I love these hack ‘em up movies, but I can’t watch them by myself.”

  The car hit something in the road. The driver stomped the brakes. “What was that?” squealed an overly dramatic girl in the backseat.

  “She’s the first to go,” Rebecca whispered.

  Gavin smiled and reached for a handful of popcorn.

  On screen, a stranger materialized at the driver’s window, blood dripping from his temple. Rebecca’s knee jerk reaction sent a wave of popcorn over the edge of the bowl.

  Gavin wrapped his arm around her. “I thought you liked this.

  “I do,” she said, peering out through her fingers.

  He moved the popcorn off her lap and wrestled her wrist away from her face. “You’re cheating,” he said.

  The music hit climatic notes and she buried her face in his chest. His warm clean scent wound around her. There was a reason she loved these movies, and it had nothing to do with watching stupid people get killed.

  “Watch,” he said.

  She opened one eye and shifted enough to see the television. “I am watch
ing. Oh my God! Why are they getting out of the car? Idiots!” She buried her head again.

  “You’re not going to watch this are you?” His voice was filled with laughter.

  “This is how I watch. I’m not complaining about how you watch.”

  “I’m not complaining either.” He gathered her hair in his hand and held it at the base of her neck. The brush of his fingers sprinkled magic down her spine.

  “What are you doing?” Garrett stood in the doorway, his back straight as an arrow, his mouth drawn in a firm line making it hard to believe he really liked her as much as Gavin said he did.

  Gavin glanced at his brother then back at the screen. “Waiting for Rebecca’s laundry. You can join us if you want.”

  Garrett sat down and picked up the popcorn. “You look like you’re trying to scare her half to death.”

  “She picked the movie.”

  “Jees!” Rebecca shut her eyes as screams echoed through the speakers behind them.

  “She may be the most talented guest we’ve ever had,” Gavin joked. “She’s capable of watching a movie with her eyes closed, her head buried, and her hands over her face.”

  “We don’t usually offer movies for ranch guests.” Garrett’s voice was tight.

  Gavin stiffened. The tensing of his body was so subtle, Rebecca could almost ignore it. Almost.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up. “You probably look forward to having your house to yourself after a long day of work. I can get my clothes in the morning.”

  She stood. Gavin grabbed her hand. “You don’t have to leave.”

  “Garrett’s right. I’m a guest, and you’ve already gone out of your way. I’ll see you in the morning.” Just as easily as Gavin could make her forget this week wasn’t real, Garrett could remind her of exactly what it was.

  Gavin followed her through the house to the mudroom. The washing machine had stopped, so she threw her clothes in the dryer, not worried about delicates, or colors. “Do you mind bringing them to me in the morning?” she asked.