Call me the second you get up.
Emma hit the call button and leaned back against the plethora of pillows as the phone began to ring.
“Oh, God, are you okay?” Harper asked as soon as she picked up.
Emma twisted her wrist from side to side, studying the rope burn. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She paused, a sudden thought occurring to her. “Wait. How did you know that I wasn’t okay?”
Harper’s voice calmed a little, at least sounding slower now. “Shep called into the Spurs this afternoon to explain about the accident and told Megan you wouldn’t be in for a couple days.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, total sweetheart, right?” Harper paused, laughing softly. “I guess the fact that you practically humped him at work last night must have left a lasting impression.”
“I didn’t hump him.” Emma sighed and pushed off the blanket, then swung her legs along the mattress until her feet pressed against the cool hardwood floors. “I just wanted to.”
Harper laughed, while Emma moved to the window with flowered curtains on either side. There, she discovered the cowboy with the magical touch, and now she knew who had brought her home. Shep stood in the middle of the sand ring, wearing a black T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He slapped his rope against his thigh, sending the thin, bony chestnut gelding with the white-striped face—the one that apparently had dragged her this morning—galloping around him.
When Harper finally stopped chuckling, she asked, “Is Shep still there?”
“Yep. I’m looking at him right now, working with that horse that tried to kill me.”
“Okay, awesome view for you,” Harper said, an obvious smile in her voice, “but what happened anyway?”
Emma leaned against the wall, staring at Shep waving his hands and moving the horse swiftly around the ring. Sometimes letting him run, other times changing the horse’s direction. Even from where she stood she saw all the hard curves of his body, and damn, she could vividly remember them from her dream. It was as if she had touched him for real, and her body warmed just that easily. “Early this morning,” she explained, getting away from thoughts that would get her into trouble, “this guy came by with an abused horse. He said either I took the horse or he’d shoot it, so of course I said to put it in the barn.” Because that was what Grams would have done. “I guess they found the poor thing at some farm, where it’d been treated badly. So then, of course, I felt terrible that it was inside, so I wanted to take it out to eat some grass in the back pasture. Well, the second I clipped the lead line to its halter, the damn thing charged out of the gate. That, I remember. The rest . . . it’s all kind of a blur.”
“You don’t remember Shep finding you?”
“No.”
“Man, that’s crazy. You’re so lucky that he found you, though. Who knows what could have happened.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Stupid horse. All I was trying to do was be nice to it.”
“Never again, right?”
“I. Will. Never. Go. Near. That. Damn. Horse. Again.” Lesson learned. “But oh, my God, seriously, I can’t believe out of anyone, he had to find me.” Her cheeks flushed.
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Harper retorted. “In the list of terrible things that could happen to someone, there’s gotta be worse things that top the list.”
Emma couldn’t argue with that. Even she’d been through much worse, but Harper didn’t know about Jake. No one did. Emma wanted it that way.
The four years she spent at NYU majoring in marketing were now wasted. All because of her failed relationship with Jake Cadwell, the CEO of Cadwell Advertising. While the breakup had a hand in her retreating to River Rock, it was the death of her beloved Grams that kept her at the ranch where she’d spent every summer as a child. A farm where the grass was somehow greener, the air fresher, and a place where there truly wasn’t a worry in the world.
She breathed through the pain, even if her heart remained in New York City, broken, raw, and bleeding. “Listen, I should go and thank Shep. I’ll call ya later, okay?”
“Be sure you do,” Harper said.
“Bye.” Emma ended the call, tucking her phone into her hand and folding her arms, staring out the window.
Right then, down in the sand ring, Shep turned, and she noticed him looking up at the window she stood in. She stayed put, watching him a minute—this sexy man exuding passion and strength—before she turned away and went into the closet. There, she hurried into a T-shirt and yoga pants, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. God, she was bruised from head to toe, along with a couple scratches on her face, neck, and arms.
She took her time slowly moving down the stairs with the newel post, each step creaking beneath her foot. The charm of old houses, and Grams’s house was nearing a hundred years old now. She exited through the front door, passing the porch swing, and moved toward the sand ring.
The sun shone down on her, and she smiled, knowing Grams loved to spend days like these with her animals. Grams’s farm had been a sanctuary for abused animals for as long as Emma could remember. From donkeys to cows to goats to sheep, Grams always rehabilitated them and either found the animals new homes or kept them at the farm.
The devil horse took notice of Emma’s approach first, spooking forward and ending up in the corner of the ring, panting, drenched in sweat, and staring right at her. Then Shep turned and looked at her, the side of his mouth slowly curving. He gave the horse one more look before he began striding toward her, like something out of a cologne commercial.
“Hi,” she said, when he reached her at the worn oak fence.
“Hi.” He smiled back, his captivating silvery-blue eyes taking ahold of her. “You look to be in one piece.”
“Thankfully because of you, I am.” She looked down at her arm, vividly remembering when Shep slid the rope across her wrists both at the bar and in her dream. Heat began to flood her, the air between them seemingly charged. “I take it you brought me home this afternoon?” she asked.
“I did.”
“Thank you for everything. Really, I owe you so much.”
That sexy smile rose again, heating with all types of promises. “It was my pleasure, Emma.”
Good Lord, he said her name slowly, savoring each syllable, and she nearly melted into a puddle right then and there. She watched him, as he watched her, and discomfort began to slide through her. She’d had very dirty dream sex with him. She could vividly feel Dream Shep’s hands on her, his breath along her neck, his cock deep inside her. Hell, she remembered the sounds of his low groans. And yet . . . none of it had actually happened.
Luckily, he fixed the awkward pause and redirected the conversation. “So, about this horse of yours: Do you want me to put him down?”
She blinked. “You want to kill him?”
“I think it might be best,” Shep said gently. “He’s very troubled.”
She moved closer to the fence, resting one foot on the wooden board, and looked at the horse standing in the corner of the ring. He was dripping sweat, his belly heaving with his deep breaths. Something in his soft, black eyes stopped her. “No, that’s not what I want. But I also don’t exactly know what to do with him. I mean, clearly he’s nuts.”
“He’s untrusting, and rightly so,” Shep corrected, “but that can be dangerous.”
The softness in Shep’s voice brought Emma’s focus back to his face. He looked at her, in that intense way she remembered from her dream, and goose bumps rose on her flesh. She couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her, and the way her nipples puckered beneath her T-shirt. The intensity he projected was nothing she’d ever experienced before. He looked rough around the edges, and clearly wasn’t a guy anyone could push around. But dammit, she’d had enough of powerful, sexy men, hadn’t she?
She forced the oh-so-sexy thoughts of Shep from her mind, when he said, “If you’d like, I can help you with him. But there needs to be rules if he s
tays here with you.”
“What are you suggesting?” she asked.
Shep moved next to her at the fence, resting one of his muscular forearms on the post. “I’m suggesting that you stay far away from him until I tell you it’s safe to get close. All right?”
She tried not to notice the way his muscles flexed with the squeeze of his hand, and then laughed softly. “Trust me, that will not be a problem. I have no intention of going anywhere near him.”
“Good.” Shep smiled back, only his grin looked far more seductive than she thought was necessary when he added, “I’ll come by every morning and work with him and feed him, until we get him better under control.”
“Ah, yeah, okay, sounds good.” His gaze held hers so intently she shifted on her feet, feeling warmth slide between her legs. She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks for staying with me. That was really very sweet of you.”
He arched a single eyebrow at her. “You sound as if you’re under the impression that I’m leaving you.”
“Um, aren’t you?”
He snorted and shook his head. “You were dragged by a horse this morning and banged up your head pretty good. On top of that, let’s not forget the fact that you’re here all alone. What kind of man would it make me if I left you all by yourself?”
“A normal one,” she admitted.
“Maybe in your world, darlin’, but not in mine. Besides, the doc suggested that I stick around tonight to keep an eye on you for any odd behavior.”
Her brows rose. “Do I have a concussion?”
“Not that I can tell,” he explained. “I woke you up every hour since I brought you home, and you answered my questions well enough.” He grinned. “Told me off the last time I woke you, so I stopped coming in.”
She laughed. “Sounds like something I’d do, but I don’t remember you waking me up.”
“Probably the effect of the morphine.” He cocked his head. “Feel any of the drug now?”
She shook her head. “No, which is why it’s not necessary that you stay tonight.”
His brows drew together and he folded his arms, watching her closely, finally asking, “Is the problem that it’s me?”
She glanced him over, and boy, did she like the view. A little too much, in fact, which was exactly the problem. “Yes, of course it’s you. It’s just—”
“Is the problem that I’m staying at your house?”
The problem is that I had wild, amazing dream sex with you, but you just don’t know it. “Yes, of course,” she replied, and added for good measure, “I don’t even know you.”
The look he gave her was pure sin. “Good thing we’ve got tonight to fix that, then, isn’t it?” He turned to walk away toward the horse but stopped, then looked back at her. “Oh, and Emma, why don’t you go get ready? After I’m done here, I’ll get you your favorite.”
“Which is?”
“Cheeseburgers, of course.”
She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing on him. “How do you know I love cheeseburgers?”
His shoulders shook with his laughter, apparently the only reply he intended to give her. He raised the rope, smacking it against his thigh, sending the horse galloping forward.
Oh shit . . . What else had she told him?
Chapter 3
With Emma in the house getting ready, Shep continued to follow the horse around the sand ring at a slow pace, ensuring the gelding cooled down after the training session. Right as the horse’s breathing returned to normal, his head lifted at the black truck blazing up the long driveway lined with mature evergreens. Shep left the sand ring, locking up the gate. He had no intention of taking Emma out this evening, but he needed time to get ready for what he planned next. Fate had delivered her to him. Again. He wouldn’t waste it.
Behind him, the abused horse began making a fuss, snorting and prancing, his head held high as the truck’s tires spat up rocks. What the horse needed to do was eat. Ribs stuck out on his side. Instead, when the truck barreled by him, his pacing along the fence only burned more energy the horse desperately needed.
Shep frowned. The horse was a danger to Emma, and Shep didn’t like the thought of her being alone with such an unpredictable animal. Too bad for him Emma had a lot of her grandmother in her. Daisy had made a name for herself in River Rock. A good name. She cared for the broken animals, and the people in town loved her for it. The day she passed had been a dark day. The skies had opened and delivered more rain in that one day than River Rock had seen in years. The difference between Daisy and Emma was Daisy had experience in dealing with abused animals. Lesson one: Gain their trust before you touch them. Something he doubted Emma would ever forget now.
With his cowboy boots kicking up dust from the ground, Shep made his way back to the house, stopping in front of the porch. The truck began to slow then pulled to a stop next to him, the passenger side window open. A smart-ass smirk, along with amused blue eyes—the same color of his—greeted him. Nash, the youngest Blackshaw brother, was twenty-eight years old, four years Shep’s junior. He never did understand the need for sophistication. Now a retired professional bull rider due to a spine injury a year ago, his light brown hair hadn’t seen a brush since their mother stopped combing his hair when he was a toddler.
Nash waggled his eyebrows and said, “This woman must be something special if you’re sending us around town running your errands.”
Shep narrowed his eyes, not about to fall into Nash’s trap. “Did you bring what I asked for?”
Nash reached into the back seat then offered a brown grocery bag. “Got it all. Plus, condoms.”
Shep snorted, scooping up the grocery bag, spotting the box of condoms on top. He grabbed the box and tossed it back at Nash. “Idiot.”
Nash caught the box and laughed. “You never can be too prepared.”
“That was his idea, not mine.”
Shep glanced toward the middle Blackshaw brother, Chase, sitting behind the wheel. A few months ago, he’d celebrated his thirtieth birthday. While Nash and Shep had their mother’s eyes, Chase’s were the color of their late father’s, a warm hazelnut brown. Chase being only two years younger than Shep, most people said over the years they could pull off being twins. His brown hair was styled with gel, even his short beard was trimmed. Chase and Nash had always been the complete opposite, and Shep figured his personality landed him somewhere in the middle. Neat when necessary. Sometimes messy to keep things interesting.
“You’ve had an interesting day,” Chase said, hugging the steering wheel.
“You could say that.” Shep gave a dry laugh.
Nash tossed the condoms into the glove box then gestured with his chin. “I take it that’s the horse.”
“That’s him, all right.” Shep glanced at the horse who stared them down. “It took two of the guys”—cowboys who worked at Blackshaw Cattle—“to get the damn bastard back here.”
Chase cocked his head, regarding the horse through the dirty windshield. “I heard Old Joe brought him.” Old Joe was a local horse rancher who picked up horses at the auction and resold them once they were trained. Chase’s troubled gaze fell to Shep’s. “I guess once he realized what he had on his hands, he figured no one else would take the horse.”
Frustration tightened the corners of Nash’s eyes. “He’s a reckless son of a bitch for leaving her with that. The horse should be put down.”
“I told Emma as much,” Shep wholeheartedly agreed. “But she’s got Daisy in her.”
Nash’s head jerked to him. “What exactly are you going to do with it, then?”
“Help.”
The horse whinnied, pawing one hoof at the ground. Chase snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Even Shep knew the challenge ahead of him. He’d broken many horses over the years. Some put up a fight, some gave no fight at all. The black depths of this horse’s eyes declared he would never break.
With only one thought on his mind, he turned to his brothers again. “Emma wants to
help the gelding, so that’s what I’ll do.” To Nash, he said, “If I need you, you’ll assist?” Out of any of them, Nash had the most experience with training horses. He also had the ability to stay on a bucking horse when Chase and Shep ended up in the dirt.
Nash’s grin returned. “You know I’m always up for a challenge, especially if it involves helping out a pretty lady.”
Behind the amusement, Shep noted Nash’s quick, false smile. His younger brother often put on a brave face, though he never could hide how much he missed his career as a professional bull rider. His retirement hadn’t been by choice but forced onto him by a terrible fall off a bull. Nash had only stopped physical therapy a month ago, and Shep wasn’t all too sure what was next for his younger brother. Nash didn’t seem to know either, working alongside the Blackshaw Cattle cowboys, wasting time more than rebuilding this life.
“How badly was Emma hurt?” Chase asked, drawing Shep from his thoughts.
He propped the grocery bag on the hood of the truck and leaned an arm against the side mirror, the hot sun flushing his skin. “She doesn’t appear to have a concussion. I woke her up every hour since I brought her home. The doc thought she’d be more comfortable here than sleeping off the drugs at the hospital. By the fifth time I woke her, she told me if I came into her room again, she’d disembowel me.”
Chase and Nash laughed.
Shep smiled, taking off his worn cowboy hat to run a hand through his damp hair. “Other than that, she’s got a rope burn on her wrist, and a few nasty bruises, but otherwise, seems fine.”
“She’s damn lucky,” said Chase.
Nash agreed with a nod. “Might have ended differently if we weren’t moving the cattle that mile west.”
Shep didn’t even want to consider what would have happened if he hadn’t found her. He returned his hat to his head. He vividly remembered every second of when he’d seen her behind the horse. Emma had looked so fragile, precious even, and that damn horse treated her like she was unbreakable. “That’s the first and last time I ever want to see anything like that again.”
Dirty-Talking Cowboy Page 3
