Cowboy Crush

by Liz Talley

  Thing was, everything felt too real to Cal. Like a lit match tossed in gasoline, he and Maggie had gotten explosive fast. Which was maybe why he felt like an old porch dog, growling and pacing the perimeter, refusing to let Hunt Turner take a sniff. Perhaps it was time for Cal to pull back and get perspective.

  But then Maggie looked at him expectantly with eyes so full of question, cheeks flushed from the heat and mouth curved in a pseudosmile that said she understood why he was acting like an enormous ass. And he knew he couldn’t step away.

  Only two weeks, five days and a handful of hours left until he headed to Mobile, shoulder healed or not.

  Only two weeks, five days and a handful of hours left until he walked away from Maggie.

  “Cal,” Hunt said again.

  “Huh?”

  “Ready?” the man said, looking far too cool in the Texas afternoon heat.

  No. He wasn’t ready. “Sorry. This heat is making me punchy.”

  Hunt narrowed his eyes in concern. Like maybe he didn’t want to climb into a big 4x4 with a dude who admitted to being affected by the heat.

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  But the truth was he wasn’t fine. He was just a good liar. Because his shoulder was screwed and his heart teetered on Heartbreak Ridge. And Cal knew that when he left Coyote Creek, it wouldn’t be the way he’d hoped months ago when he told his mother he was coming home to heal.

  * * *

  MAGGIE WATCHED CAL drive off with Hunt Turner and sighed.

  She had her first bite on the ranch...maybe soon to be followed by a genuine offer. So why didn’t she feel as though an enormous burden was about to be lifted from her? Good Lord, a potential buyer had dropped into her lap. Wasn’t selling the Triple J quickly what she’d wanted all along?

  Her tummy trembled at the thought of handing over the keys to the place.

  Maybe it was natural to feel the way she did. After all, she’d been working hard over the past weeks. Pouring sweat into a project of this scale connected a person to it. No doubt all the house flippers on those TV shows also got attached to their projects. Maybe at some point they wanted to take a broom and shoo buyers away, too.

  She climbed the porch steps and eyed the paint she’d set out. She’d already put a coat of sky blue on the porch roof to fool the bugs. One more coat and she could start on the railing. She’d roll the protectant on the new porch decking the day after. It would be a gorgeous spot to hang a porch swing and a couple of Boston ferns. A perfect spot to find peace and comfort.

  The Triple J was starting to look like the place Bud had loved so. When she was a child she would look at the photographs of the Texas countryside framed in Bud’s office. Her mother didn’t like her going in there, but she loved to lie on the stuffy leather couch and look at the photos of bluebonnets and old fences with sunsets in the background. Her favorite had been the one of a longhorn cow staring directly into the lens. She’d wiggled on the couch, wondering if she could do a chin-up on his horn or if the friendly looking bovine would poke her eye out if she tried. Bud had caught her in there one day staring at his photos and had begun to tell her stories about cows getting stuck in flooded creek beds, coyotes baying at moons and wide-open space to contemplate one’s place in the big world. He’d say, I’ll take you there one day, kid. You can ride a pony and I’ll show you the hanging tree.

  But he’d never taken her. Business took a downturn with a product recall and she’d grown into a teenager who stopped sneaking into Bud’s home office.

  Is that why he’d left the Triple J to her? Because he’d promised to take the housekeeper’s bastard child and hadn’t gotten around to it? Or because he wanted to poke a stick at his own kids who rarely visited him for anything other than a check?

  No matter the reason, the Triple J was hers...for now.

  Fresh start.

  Those words uttered by Hunt Turner stirred something in her. What if the Triple J was where she belonged...what if it was her own fresh start?

  Years ago, hundreds of people had tossed practicality out the window to chase a dream out West. They’d broken away from their past to claim a dangerous future in a wild land full of rattlesnakes and sexy cowboys. Maybe she should be as bold. Maybe...

  Cal’s truck crested the slight rise that blocked the view of the highway, jarring Maggie from her thoughts.

  Be sensible, Mags.

  But even as she told herself those words, she recalled something Bud once told her. I found myself, this hard-nosed capitalist, this practical man, staring out at a horizon that sparked a sense of belonging. That land stirred the imagination, that land spoke to the heart. I met myself there, Maggie. I’m ten times the man when I’m riding a horse across the Triple J than when I’m nitpicking budgets here in Philadelphia. A place like that can change you. Make you believe God is real and you have a purpose.

  Maggie looked out over the land Bud loved so and knew what the old man had meant. Ever since she’d come to the Triple J, she’d felt more herself.

  Or maybe that was because of Cal.

  Nothing is etched in stone.

  Cal climbed out of his truck and set his cowboy hat back on his head. He squinted toward the paddock where Sissy gnawed at dry grass. She didn’t know whether he was trying to mind his own business or if he was worried about the horse.

  Hunt headed toward Maggie. Holding out his hand, he said, “Thanks for showing me the Triple J. I’m going to sit down with my financial advisor and work out a few details. You should have an offer from me on the place by the beginning of next week. If anyone else comes to look at it or makes an offer, call me.”

  His handshake was firm and dry. Intentional. “I haven’t listed with an agent yet, so I don’t anticipate another offer yet.”

  “Good,” Hunt said, giving her a smile. He was insanely attractive in a rough around the edges way. If she weren’t so much in lo—

  She clamped down once again on that thought. Because she wasn’t in love with Cal. She couldn’t be. Because they’d set rules and made plans to the contrary. She had to stop allowing that thought to slip into her subconscious. To think that way, to claim that emotion, was dangerous. Because love would lead to heartbreak. Despite her fanciful what-ifs, she knew what they’d set in place made sense. It protected both of them. Cal would return to his world and she’d...well, it was safe to bet she’d return to hers. There was no room for her to entertain anything different. Better to stick to the original plan—all the fun, none of the guilt. Like that yogurt commercial.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you. If things don’t work out with the Triple J, I wish you luck finding another place for your fresh start,” Maggie said.

  Hunt dropped her hand. “I think I’ve found it here. Sara will love it.”

  Cal made his way over and in his eyes she saw her doubt reflected. Or maybe it wasn’t doubt as much as it was jealousy. She shouldn’t feel so thrilled at Cal’s response to Hunt, but she’d rarely experienced a man scratching a line in the dirt over her. Something about Cal scowling at Hunt made her feel secure. It was a rarity, nothing more. But still, some part of her liked it too much.

  Hunt extended his hand to Cal, gave it a brief, hard shake and then turned back toward his rental SUV. “I’ll be in touch.”

  And then her potential buyer climbed into his vehicle and drove away.

  “You’re not going to let that asshole buy this place, are you?” Cal asked.

  “Asshole?” Maggie repeated turning to Cal. “Come on, Cal, that man was perfectly nice. He has a daughter. He wants a fresh start.”

  Cal shook his head. “Naw, he’s weird. I can tell he has secrets.”

  “Cal,” she chided with a laugh.

  “Seriously. Who picks up and moves to some place they’ve never been before? Unless they’re a drug dealer...or an illegal arms dealer. He’s trouble. I can smell it. There’s something off about him. He could be a serial killer.”

  “You sound like a nut,” Maggie sai
d. His words made her earlier thoughts about staying in Coyote Creek seem ridiculous, too. Who, indeed, picks up and moves to a place she’d never been before? No one. Okay, some people but not ones who had common sense. There had to be a good reason to do something like that. Maggie had no good reason. She hadn’t even broken in her new cowboy boots yet much less done any research on how to run a ranch. Better to ditch the itch, the idea, the inclination.

  Maybe the heat was making her punchy, too.

  “I am a nut,” Cal said, grabbing hold of her and pulling her into his arms. “Over you.”

  Maggie let the decision drama slip away in favor of lightness. She didn’t want to spend the time she had left with Cal overanalyzing every aspect of her future. No, she wanted to grab the pleasure she could. She’d think about bad decisions and potential heartache after she walked away from the Triple J and Cal.

  That thought bumped against her bubble of happiness, but she flicked it away by kissing Cal. “I like nuts.”

  “I could make a dirty joke,” he said, grinning down at her.

  “As expected,” she said, looping her arms around his waist and leaning back so she could stare up at him in the early afternoon sun. “I’d love to practice bull riding on you, but we have too much daylight left.”

  “You’re a slave driver, woman. Can’t take a single day for some fun.”

  “And if we were going to take the afternoon off, what kind of fun do you have in mind?” she said, suggestively bumping her hips against his.

  “Skinny-dipping?”

  “In the pond?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “It is kind of stagnant,” he conceded.

  “Where’s Wyatt?” she asked, realizing she hadn’t seen the teen in a while.

  “He’s helping Charlie repair the fences out in the far pasture,” Cal said, raising his brows in expectation.

  “So no one is around?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “What do you have up your sleeve, madam?”

  “I’ve been thinking of power washing the house. I could grab the bikini I bought at the Penny Mart. Doesn’t cover much but we could get wet.” Maggie lowered her voice when she made the suggestion. No way was she shucking her clothes and jumping into a lukewarm pond filled with bacteria and algae, but she could be talked into some slippery fun. “We’ll call it killing two birds with one stone. Work and play.”

  “A cheap bikini that doesn’t cover much,” he mused, stroking his chin. “Hmm...is that enough fun for the afternoon?”

  “Or we can start tiling in the bathroom with all our clothes on,” she suggested.

  “Negatory. Last one to the...uh, water hose...is a rotten egg,” he shouted, releasing her and bolting for the trailer where he still kept his clothes. And she presumed his swimsuit.

  13

  SO MUCH FOR tiling the master bathroom.

  But wasn’t kinky, wet fun with Cal worth losing an hour or two on the project?

  With so little time left together, she’d have to give a resounding vote in favor of kinky, wet fun. And since it was hotter than a Fourth of July firecracker outside, cooling off was almost a safety precaution. In fact, health professionals should add a good soaking with the water hose to their pamphlets on how to avoid heatstroke. Bikini optional.

  Maggie hurried toward the house, hoping like hell the power washer she’d hauled out of the barn still worked. Of course, she and Cal would have to get wet with the water hose and not the high-pressure spray. She didn’t want to lose any skin. A nice trickle of cool water and splashing around with a near-naked Cal in the Texas sunshine would be a perfect way to distract her from the doubts that had crept up about selling the ranch.

  Ten minutes later she emerged in the hot-pink monstrosity she’d bought last minute at the discount store in Coyote Creek. She had no clue why she’d tossed it into the shopping cart. She’d never worn a string bikini before and this one with its tiny scraps of fabric barely held her breasts. The bottoms tied together like an invitation. At the last minute she braided her hair on each side of her head like a farm girl. She looked like one part country music video and two parts white trash.

  “Hot damn,” Cal marveled when she emerged from the kitchen screen door, some parts of her bouncing more than others.

  Cal wore a pair of cutoff shorts and nothing else. He looked like every teenage girl’s dream, sipping a longneck beer, wearing a pair of Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses.

  “And it only cost ten dollars,” she said, turning so he could see how little of her butt it covered.

  “Worth every cent,” he said, setting his empty beer on the back steps and walking around the side of the house to where the grass grew thick and cool under a shady tree. The power washer had been set up, but the garden hose scrolled through the yard like a lazy green ribbon. “Let’s make sure the water works.”

  Cal turned the spigot and water gushed from the end of the hose. Picking it up, he tested the temperature. “It’s warm.”

  Maggie stepped over and held out her hand, but Cal pulled the hose back and sprayed her with it.

  It was not warm.

  More like freezing.

  Maggie shrieked. “You pig.”

  Cal laughed and hit her in the face with a full blast. She lunged toward him, grabbing his forearm and swinging her foot around to wrap around the hose. He jumped back in surprise, but she managed to wrench the hose from him.

  “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” she said, sliding her hands toward the nozzle.

  “What’s a gander?” he asked, holding his hands up. Useless protection.

  She put her thumb over the stream and wiggled her eyebrows.

  “No, you don’t,” he said, reaching for her. But Maggie was quick and she managed to douse the front of his body with a good spray of water. “Ah! That’s frickin’ cold.”

  “I know,” she squealed with delight.

  Cal grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, but she slipped on the now-slick grass and fell on her butt. He tumbled down with her, pulling the hose so it blasted onto her naked belly.

  “Crap,” she gasped, pushing the hose away.

  The heat of the afternoon paired with the cool water was actually a perfect combination. Maggie had never in her life played in the water hose. She’d never worn hoochie-mama bikinis or frolicked on the green grass with a sexy beast of a man, either. She found the whole silly escapade to her liking. And she liked it even more when Cal pulled her into his lap and kissed her.

  Her nipples were hard from the cold water and they grew even tighter as they brushed his hard chest. His mouth was hot against her cold lips, chasing the chill away even as the icy water pooled beneath them, no doubt soaking Cal’s worn cutoff blue jeans.

  Cal cupped one of her breasts and squeezed, making heat spiral deep into her pelvis.

  “That’s nice,” she whispered against his lips.

  “Isn’t it?” he whispered back.

  Maggie shifted to the side and pulled a leg through their bodies so she straddled him. The hose caught between them and poured over Cal’s thighs, soaking her bikini bottom with icy water. She could feel that hard length of his erection pressing against her and the juxtaposition of the heat from Cal against the cold water was oddly erotic.

  Cal kissed her again, his tongue hard and demanding against hers, stoking her desire for him, teasing with a nip to her lip before he pulled back and slid his sunglasses off, tossing them to the side. “This is the stupidest but maybe best idea I’ve ever had.”

  Maggie stuck her hands on her hips. “It was my idea.”

  “So it was, and damn if you ain’t kinky, woman,” he said, sliding the fabric of one pink triangle aside, freeing her breast. Smiling as if he’d found a treasure, Cal lowered his head to suck the nipple into his mouth. Maggie couldn’t prevent the hiss that escaped her lips. His hot mouth on her chilled skin felt amazing.

  She wriggled her bottom and pulled the hose from between them. “I’m soaked.
”

  “Just how I like you,” Cal said, giving her a hard kiss before tipping her out of his lap. She squealed when she landed on the squishy grass but didn’t have time to think about any discomfort because Cal had come to his knees, his fingers busy untying the strings on either side of her bikini bottom. Pulling the fabric back, he smiled. “Even better.”

  Maggie tried to close her legs, but he pressed his hands against her inner thighs. “Cal, I’m all for playing around, but we’re out in the open.”

  Cal looked around. “No one is here.”

  “But your brother could be back at any moment.” She pushed at his hands, not wanting to be so vulnerable in the harsh sunlight.

  He shook his head. “I texted Charlie and told him to keep Wyatt busy until five o’clock. No ifs, ands or buts about it. We’re all alone, Miss Stanton. And I’m here to serve you.”

  She shook her head, but allowed him to part her legs. “This is crazy.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to get wet,” he said, tracing the trimmed hair along her slit. Her body trembled at the sensation. And then she relaxed, submitting to his touch, wanting his hands on her more than she wanted to protect her modesty.

  “And I am,” she murmured huskily.

  “So I see. So I feel,” he said, dragging a finger through her dampness, making her jump at the contact. “You’re so beautiful, Mags.”

  She loved when he called her by that pet name.

  He sucked his finger into his mouth. “And you taste good, baby. Give me more.”

  His words were like honey dripping over her, slowly covering any protests that anyone could happen upon them. Maggie let her legs fall open, offering herself to him.

  Cal bent and dragged his tongue through her slick folds, making an mmm sound.

  “You make me feel crazy...reckless,” she said, clasping his head as he found her clit and started working her. Maggie closed her eyes and let Cal do what he wished. She had no power against the seduction he employed. Her body fell victim to his particularly talented mouth and the knowing fingers inserted inside her, crooking to thrust against that perfect spot that made her body hum. He pushed her knees up, opening her wider so he could work her easier. “Oh, my...oh, Cal. Please, please.”