Roping the Cowboy

by Tori Kayson

  You should come home, Dad. I have a surprise for you. Jayce’s text had jolted him from his vigil.

  He was a fool for having even tried. Just as well Darby hadn’t returned home and caught him waiting. Even if he’d planned to apologize.

  Jayce had made a surprise for him. After he’d dawdled away their Friday night. Guilt coiled on top of his foolishness.

  Hope and Charity bounded off the porch to bark at his truck. He pulled next to the house and crouched to scratch their necks.

  “Come on, you two. Let’s get Jayce and go home.” The Koolies followed him to the big house.

  Jayce would still be up. If not, he’d wake him. Oooh and ahhh over whatever the kid had created.

  He took the steps to the porch two at a time, wrapped his fingers around the doorknob—

  “I was beginning to think you might never make it back tonight.” A female voice, hesitant and unsure, came from his right.

  He startled. His hand dropped away from the doorknob. He whipped around to face the woman on the swing.

  “You’re here!” He didn’t even try to corral the joy at seeing Darby or the pleasure from his voice. Wonder tickled his toes and sparked in his chest, vanquishing the recriminations of foolishness.

  She’d driven here, and she’d waited for him. What a kicker!

  The dogs beat him to her side. She bent over to scratch their ears, calling each by name in her sweet soft voice.

  How could he be jealous of his two canines?

  “Now I know why you never made it home.” He sank next to her on the wooden swing.

  Her head jerked up. Her fingers stilled against the fur around Charity’s neck. Shock arched her eyebrows. “You were at my place?”

  He nodded. “If Jayce hadn’t texted that he had a surprise for me, I’d probably still be there.” There. He said it. Put his feelings out there. She could stomp all over them or not. Her choice.

  “Why?” Just a whisper, but it carried so much emotion. Along with her eyes, so soft and glittery and warm. Roses and mandarin swirled with the scent of freshly cut grass, drifting over him, intoxicating and powerful.

  Her presence at the ranch —sitting here on his mother’s front porch swing— was as homey and real and right as him being here. Why had it taken her leaving for him to realize how perfectly she fit here?

  She settled back against the swing, an expectant look on her face, and waited.

  Hope and Charity plopped down, Charity with a dissatisfied huff. Get over it, Bud. It’s my turn.

  Oh, right. Why was he at her place waiting? “Because I wanted to apologize.”

  “You did?” The moonlight kissed her cheeks, so smooth and creamy, they practically screamed to be touched.

  His fingers twitched to slide through those silky waves in her hair. He settled for draping an arm around the back of the swing and twisted her way. “I don’t know what came over me the last time you were here, Darby. I’m sorry for the things I said. For not giving you a chance to explain.” He surrendered to the urge and toyed with the tips of her hair.

  “I’m sorry, too. For being so hurt and angry that I didn’t listen to what you were really saying…in here.” She tapped her chest and scooted a little closer. The only thing separating them was her palm planted on the swing.

  He could take care of that. He lifted her from the swing and positioned her on his lap, cradling her to his chest. There. No more physical barriers. Now if he could only hurdle the emotional one.

  She curled against him as if she were made just for him. Her sigh, languid and content.

  “Have I mentioned how much I love surprises?” He rested his chin on top of her head, reveling in the soft cheek and palm that pressed against his cotton shirt. Heaven help him, desire swelled from every nerve in his body, but he refused to give in to it. He was determined not to repeat mistakes, to be a better man than twelve years ago.

  “I’ll remember that.” Her voice came out muffled against his chest. As if she held back laughter.

  He never wanted her to hold anything back. Not love. Not words or emotions. And definitely not laughter.

  He nudged her chin up to face him.

  Her face glowed. With happiness? Only one way to find out.

  He leaned in, their lips meeting and melding. She tasted of iced tea and chocolate, and he took his time exploring. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth, teasing and tempting, her enthusiastic response just about his undoing. His fingers weaved through her hair, then cradled the back of her head while his mouth dived to the creamy expanse of her neck.

  She arched her neck and moaned, throaty and vibrant and…irresistible.

  Whoa! Warning bells blared like a fire engine’s siren in his head. Stop while you still can, Kester!

  His roaming hands stilled. His chest heaved as he shifted to settle back against the swing, inhaling huge chunks of air. She seemed to have trouble breathing, too.

  “Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested, his voice raspy. Not what he wanted, but his fragile thread of self-control would surely snap if they stayed outside. He would carry her to the nearest hayloft, and Darby deserved better than a romp in the hay. Their first time making love should be special. Not anything to hide.

  “Inside?” She lifted her face. Desire darkened her irises. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The invitation in her eyes both thrilled and frightened him.

  He shook his head, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze while he struggled for the right words. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Her gaze dipped to his lips. Stayed there.

  He had to put some distance between them. He lifted her off his lap and hoisted himself from the bench. He rested forearms along the wood rail and stared at the single light glowing from the barn. “I made some mistakes with my first marriage, sweetheart. Not that my son could ever be called a mistake, but if I hadn’t allowed things to progress like they did—” He licked dry-as-desert lips.

  “You think she’d still be alive?” Darby slipped off the swing to stand next to him. Her hand landed on his forearm, her touch gentle, soothing.

  “Maybe.” He flicked his head. “I don’t know. But I was just a kid. Pressured her into marrying me when we found out she was pregnant. I don’t want to go down that road again.”

  “The pregnancy thing? Or marriage? Because it’s not like I’d let you force me into anything.” Her tone was light, almost playful, but packed an underlying message.

  §

  His hand reached out to cover hers, and he speared her with that stubborn tilt to his chin. “That’s true. But I’m not a man that toys with a woman’s heart.” His head dipped, almost as if he was ashamed of that fact. But then he faced her again, a grimace contorting his lips. “You probably guessed that already. I’m not real adept in the romance department.”

  What? The cowboy made her whole body hum with those blood-pumping kisses and, oh, what he could do with that tongue! She twisted and propped her rump against the rail, curved a palm along his jaw. “Oh, I think you’re doing quite well.” Her voice came out breathy, anticipation of their next kiss already thrumming through her limbs.

  His arm snaked around her waist to pin her against the wood. He leaned close, but he stuck to his real estate along the rail. “Yeah?” His eyes deepened to rain forest green while amber flints glittered like gold dust in the moonlight.

  “Oh yes!” Her hand dropped to his shoulder then slid to splay against that powerful chest, and he sucked in a breath. She edged her face up, a smile curving her lips. “On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to put in a little more practice time.” She stole another sweet kiss, but this time, it was her lips that did the teasing. When it ended, she sighed, sated, content.

  Mercy! He might think he was lacking in the romance department, but this cowboy knew how to make her skin tingle and her blood race.

  “Practice. Yes. Definitely more practice,” he murmured, nudging his forehead against hers, his breath feather light whispers
against her cheeks. His hands curled around her waist. “So where do we go from here?” he asked.

  “Well, it’s getting late,” she whispered.

  He sighed, a resigned sound, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. She could feel his nod.

  “So I’ll be heading up to my room.” The fabric of his shirt muffled her voice. She grinned.

  His hands gripped her upper arms, and he pulled back. A tender smile transformed his face. “Seriously?”

  She nodded, bursting with excitement yet overflowing with peace. An entire weekend at the ranch with him, with Jayce and the rest of the family, was just what she needed after two weeks of meetings and hotel rooms and airport layovers. “I called your mother on the way here. Thankfully, she wasn’t totally booked, but if she had been, I would have found a room in Coldwater Ridge. I’m staying for the entire weekend.”

  “Wow!” He popped a quick kiss on her head. “Jayce was right. What a nice surprise.”

  “So you like surprises.” She added that little nugget of gold to the growing list of traits she loved about him. He weaved powerful phrases from his wounded heart. He was a wonderful father. A great rancher. An awesome kisser.

  “I do.”

  The front door cracked open. Jayce peeked around the corner, a mischievous smile lighting his face before a long plastic weapon poked from the opening.

  Uh oh. Showtime.

  “You do, huh?” She hid a smile as Jayce tiptoed onto the porch, his white socks glowing in the dark, the water launcher aimed at Fargo’s back. “That’s good.” She edged back, out of the line of fire.

  A stream of water burst from the gun and blasted Fargo in the back. His eyebrows shot high on his forehead and his jaw dropped.

  While he writhed and wiggled, she scooped up the tiny weapon she and Jayce had hidden on the porch while they waited for Fargo to get back. Giggling, she added her tiny shot of water to Jayce’s stream.

  “Hey, not fair. Where’s mine?” Fargo demanded in between soakings.

  “I must have forgotten it at home.” Jayce grinned and blasted Fargo with another stream.

  Fargo’s face darkened in mock anger, and he launched himself at his son. Jayce vaulted off the porch, bypassing the stairs and giggling the entire way home.

  Darby doubled over, laughing, but Fargo turned to her, a wicked grin on his face. She took off, sprinting across the grass, still laughing. She hadn’t even made it to Fargo’s yard when he caught her around the waist, lifted her off her feet and twirled her around.

  Hope and Charity circled her whirling legs, barking.

  “I give! I give!” She laughed. “Uncle!”

  “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.” Water dripped from Fargo’s face. The grin, the playful mood, set her limbs on fire.

  “But Jayce started it,” she whined. Well, technically, Jayce started it. But, she might have mentioned the idea earlier, and together they’d plotted it out.

  “Ah, but obviously, you were in on it, too, honey.” His drawl reached down and sucked all the air out of her sails. Maybe the water soaking her shirt had something to do with that, too. “And where is the devious prankster now? Looks like he left you to face the music alone.”

  He lowered her until her feet touched the ground, but his arms tightened around her back rather than letting go. He shook his head, flinging droplets all over.

  Laughing, she arched as far back as his hands allowed. Suddenly the air crackled and sparked. Quiet, other than his ragged breaths.

  Her eyelids flickered up.

  Stunning green eyes with flecks of gold regarded her from under hooded lashes. Passion flared from his nostrils. But the look on his face was tender, sweet, gentle. Just like the hands around her waist.

  She needed this cowboy…like she needed air to breathe.

  Now if she could only find a way to spend time with him and still appease her demanding boss.

  ~ CHAPTER 22 ~

  “What’s this?” Darby’s father picked up the piece of paper she slid across the desk. He glanced her way, the paper just under his nose, but she remained mute. The letter reclaimed his attention. His forehead bunched together as he scanned the scant two paragraphs. Then with one flick of his wrist, he tossed the correspondence back onto the smooth uncluttered surface of his desk and stalked to the glass expanse overlooking downtown Dallas, effectively dismissing her with his back…his silence.

  What did she expect with her resignation? For him to beg her to stay? She stood and made it to the door, her fingertips coiled around the knob—

  “I’m sorry.”

  Had she dreamed about those words for so long she just imagined them? Or had he actually uttered them?

  She turned around, her heart pounding out a crazy rhythm, not sure how to react to those two simple, profound words.

  Finally, he pivoted, scrubbing a hand across his entire face. His shoulders sagged, only slightly, before he pushed them back into his suit jacket and nodded, his features drawn and gaunt. Where was her smooth and polished boss, the man with words for every occasion? And her father? He’d never been warm or cuddly, but this guy she almost didn’t recognize. He looked as if he’d aged ten years right in front of her.

  He took a step away from the window toward her. Cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that you feel you need to leave to accomplish your goals.”

  She’d devoted her entire life to this job, this company. Was that all he had? She twisted around, twined her fingers around the doorknob again.

  “Are you hoping for more money?”

  She angled her head over a shoulder. “More money?” She didn’t mean to scoff. She really didn’t. That he didn’t understand the hopelessness of their relationship was just incomprehensible. But then, she hadn’t really understood what she was missing until she met Fargo.

  He folded arms over his chest, the heavy starch in his white cotton shirt making a crinkling noise, and pressed his lips together in a rigid line. “Then it’s because I didn’t just hand over the VP position without making you work for it. You know, Darby, you can’t expect that just because I’m—”

  She shook her head, cutting him off. Sadness tightened her belly. “No, Dad. That’s not it.”

  “What then?”

  “It’s not really even about the job.” She closed her eyes. Her brain took her back to last weekend when her car rolled up the long driveway leading to the ranch. An image of Fargo standing in all his cowboy glory, his boot propped along the bottom rail of the pasture fence, his arm draped around Jayce’s shoulder. His Stetson angled down as he listened to his son rattle on about his day, then the huge smile when he looked up and saw her car. Soft purple and pink streaks laced the evening sky, dappling the two cowboys in shadows and sunbeams. She’d opened her window to wave, and the scent of roses and cattle and the hamburgers from the backyard grill all mingled together to welcome her to the ranch. That, and one toe-curling kiss from the handsome cowboy.

  No. Her resignation had nothing to do with the job.

  “What?” His sharp tone whipped her lids back up, bringing her back to her boss’s office, the scent of expensive leather chairs and lemon cleaning solution wiping away all trace of the ranch.

  Her resignation was more about discovering herself, who she was and focusing on what— no, make that who —was really important in her life. But that wasn’t something her father would even remotely understand. She sighed, her arm sliding away from the cool metal of the knob, and walked back into the center of the spacious office. “The university in Coldwater Ridge offered me a teaching position.”

  “Coldwater Ridge?” He scrunched his face into a grimace. As if the idea of living in Coldwater Ridge was equivalent to the middle of nowhere.

  “It’s actually a beautiful area. Peaceful and serene without all the noisy chaos of living in a big city.” And, of course, a handsome cowboy lived there, the main reason she was moving.

  “Does this have something to do with that Kester cowboy?
”

  Her brows practically left her forehead. How could he have known that? She nodded. “Yes. It does.”

  “I thought so.” He stalked to the bar and reached for the decanter of scotch then twisted, holding it up in invitation.

  She shook her head.

  He plucked a glass tumbler from the shelf and poured a small amount then lifted it to his nose and sniffed. He sipped and then dropped a couple cubes of ice into the amber liquid. He turned back around, studying her as he swirled the beverage around in the glass. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  She took a deep breath. She’d been asking herself the same question since taking the phone call from the University president this morning. She was confident in hers and Fargo’s relationship, but teaching was a different story. She flicked her head. “If it doesn’t work out—”

  “You’ll make it work.” He said it like he was sure of it, his firm no-nonsense tone matching the look on his face. He stared at the liquid swirling in the glass then lifted it to his lips and took a long swig.

  That had to burn all the way down. But then, her father could put away some liquor, no matter the time. His internal clock worked on a different schedule than everybody else’s.

  She would make it work. She puffed up her chest and nodded.

  “I’m proud of you, Darby.” The empty tumbler landed on the counter with a thud.

  “You are?” Finally! Emotion lumped in her throat. Her jaw dropped, and moisture welled up in her eyes. She fingered her cheek, hoping he didn’t notice. Tears indicated a sign of weakness and he used them to his full advantage.

  “You know what you want and you go after it. I have to hand it to you. I never thought you had this in you.”

  What was he talking about?

  “It’s a good ploy. You’ll have his signature on that contract within a week.”

  She jerked back as if he’d slapped her. Was that what Fargo would think too? “Contract?” Her voice came out weak.

  “Yes. That’s what this is all about, right?” His calculating steel gray eyes pinned her to the spot on the expensive Persian rug. As if her legs could move with the weight of his words. “You threaten to resign. Earn the cowboy’s trust. Bam! He signs the contract and you move into the office with Vice President on the door. And just think. Before long, this will all be yours.” His suited arm swept through the climate-controlled air, gesturing at the wide expanse of his immaculate, professionally decorated office on the thirtieth floor.