Yesterday it was a dentist appointment.
The day before that, it was her weekly Zumba lessons at the senior center.
And let’s not forget the lawn bowling tournament.
And snake charming lessons.
Yes, the last one finally triggered my bullshit alert. Which was when she decided to switch to the more realistic excuses.
Despite my initial reservations—because what the heck do I know about babysitting a twenty-five-month-old?—it’s been kind of fun.
But, shit, for a little kid, he sure has a lot of energy.
What in the hell has Grandma Meg been feeding him?
“Deacon, you wanna learn how to rope a cow?” I ask.
Sophie is in the center of the paddock, holding one end of the lunge line, while the colt trots in a large circle around her, kicking up dust. Jake and Noah are leaning against the upper railing of the fence, their focus on the horse. Although in Jake’s case, it’s more likely Sophie’s ass that has his attention.
At the sound of gravel crunching beneath my boots, they turn around. Deacon’s currently sporting the finest in toddler cowboy hats. A present from Sophie and Aubrey. He’s also wearing toddler-sized cowboy boots, Levi jeans, and a checkered shirt that resembles mine.
Noah’s mouth twitches. “Hey, look, Uncle Jake. They’re twinsies. Deacon, did you call your Uncle TJ this morning and ask him what he’s wearing today?”
Both men crack up laughing.
Inwardly I flip them a double bird. “Very funny, guys. Deacon, how about we pretend Uncle Noah is a cow and practice tying his arms and legs together?” And his mouth, if I have my way. “Doesn’t that sound like an awesome idea?”
Giggling, Deacon bounces on my shoulders. “Cow.”
Jake laughs again, only this time it’s directed at our brother.
“I think Uncle Jake would make a much better cow.” Noah parks his hand on Jake’s upper back and tries to push him forward.
Jake doesn’t budge. “It’s a rule that the younger brother always has to be the cow.”
Noah snorts. “You made that up.”
“Don’t believe me? Check the rule book.”
“There is no rule book.”
“Then I guess you can’t prove me wrong.” Jake places his hand on Noah’s back and gives him a shove.
Noah might be tall and muscular like rest of us, but he’s no match for Jake. Hell, I’m no match for Jake. The guy could be a wrestler.
Noah stumbles forward.
“Don’t worry,” I say as Jake removes the two-year-old from my shoulders. “Deacon and I will go easy on you.”
“I doubt it.” Noah’s tone is grumpy, but his expression is a supersized smirk. “Besides, won’t it be dangerous? He might think that strangling people is a good idea.”
He has a point there. Lassoing a person isn’t the same as lassoing a calf.
“How about using Loki?” he suggests. Asgard barks in agreement.
“Hey, no hating on my cat.” Noah and Loki have never seen eye-to-eye on anything.
Still in Jake’s arms, Deacon reaches toward Asgard. Jake lowers him onto the gravel path, and the little boy toddles over to the Aussie shepherd. The dog remains seated, tongue lolling to the side. If he could adopt Deacon, I’m sure he would.
“Want doggie.” Deacon flings his arms around Asgard’s neck and giggles.
Asgard regards me with his satisfied, at-least-someone-around-here-worships-me expression.
I roll my eyes.
Gravel crunches behind me. I turn around…and my heart squeezes like an accordion playing an Irish jig.
I blink. Great, now I’m hallucinating.
“Mommy!” Deacon rushes over to Violet.
So not a hallucination.
I want to sweep her up in my arms and kiss her senseless. I want to show her how much I’ve missed her.
But I rein in the intense craving—not because I have to worry about the camera crew or Camilla or what my brothers think. Deacon doesn’t need to see me kissing his mother.
Violet scoops up her son and hugs him.
“I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow,” I say, walking over to them.
“Guess we should leave those two lovebirds alone.” Noah’s voice is low enough that I doubt Violet hears him.
Jake chuckles his reply.
I glare at them over my shoulder. Jake laughs louder and walks away.
“Wow, don’t you look like a proper little cowboy?” Violet says to Deacon, a grin in her voice.
“Aubrey and Sophie played dress up with him,” I tell her.
“Me cowboy.” Deacon points at the back of Noah, who is watching Sophie and the colt. “Cow.”
“That’s not a cow,” Violet says. “That’s Uncle Noah.”
“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” I say, “but how come you’re back a day early? Is everything all right?”
And when do I get to hold you in my arms again—naked?
She squeezes Deacon one more time, then puts the squirming toddler down.
The colt neighs. Deacon points at him. “Horsie.”
He doesn’t wait for confirmation from either of us. He walks over to Noah, whose booted foot rests on the lower wooden rail. The same wooden rail that Deacon settles his hands on as he watches the colt.
Unable to wait any longer to taste Violet, my lips send an Are-you-going-to-kiss-her-or-what? message to my body—and my body heeds their request.
Or that’s my excuse for what happens next.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me. Then my lips find hers and all bets are off when it comes to the contract I signed.
No one from the show is here to witness this.
And Violet is definitely not complaining.
Her lips part, and she welcomes me in. My tongue glides against hers, savoring, reminiscing, teasing, doing all the things I’ve been fantasizing about since I last saw her.
Her hands travel up my body to my shoulders. The heat from her palms soaks through the fabric of my T-shirt, adding fire to what already smolders deep inside me.
A moment later, the giggle of a little boy yanks me back to the here and now. A here and now that could, at any moment, include Austin if he stops by for an impromptu visit.
But despite knowing this, I don’t release Violet like I should. Instead, my lips trace a path from her mouth to her earlobe. “I want you in my bed tonight,” I murmur against her ear.
I’m aware I’m playing a dangerous game, especially since I value my life. But the risk is worth it. Neither of us is looking for something more. We’re just looking for great sex for now.
What could be more perfect?
My heart mutters words I choose to ignore. Ridiculous words that include how I’m possibly falling for her. But what does my heart know? It has steered me wrong before.
“God, I want that more than anything,” Violet says on a soft groan. “But first there’s something I need to do. Something both you and I need to do.”
“What’s that?” I ask—because I can’t imagine there’s anything we have to do first that’s more important than me fucking Violet into the next century.
17
“That” turns out to be an antique store.
“Why are we here?” I ask, following Violet into the brick building on Main Street. Dangling from her neck is her camera.
Only this time it has nothing to do with me—and everything to do with the Violet I knew in high school. Even back then, she always had her camera with her.
The store is crammed full of antiques: from the tiny wooden box to large pieces of furniture. It’s a mishmash of different styles and different eras, but mostly western themed.
Because so much stuff has been stockpiled in the store, you have to weave between oversized decorative items, furniture, and shelving units with trinkets for sale. Even the walls are covered with paraphernalia.
Violet walks to an antique wooden desk and searches thro
ugh the small items on it. “I’m looking for a birthday present for Deacon’s nanny. She loves the unusual.”
“What kind of unusual are you looking for?” I pick up a rusty horseshoe that looks nothing like the modern version. No idea what one would do with it. All I know is that you can’t shoe a horse with it.
“I don’t exactly know. I’ll just know when I see it.”
“Fair enough.” I return the horseshoe to the desk.
“Howdy, you two,” Mavis says next to me, surprising me. She wasn’t there a second ago. “Is there anything I can help you find?”
Mavis is the store owner, and I swear she’s older than most of the pieces here. She wasn’t around when the dinosaurs were roaming the planet, but close enough.
“I’m looking for a gift for someone, but do you mind if I take a photo of you, Mavis? The lighting in this store is perfect for what I want to do.” Violet indicates to the large windows. “As is the setting.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, dear. I’m not like the youth these days and their love of…what do you call those photos you take of yourself?”
“Selfies,” Violet says.
“Right, selfies. I’m not young, and I’m a mess.” She looks down at her jeans and long purple top.
“You look beautiful,” Violet reassures her.
A few minutes later, Violet shows us the photos on her camera’s LCD screen that she took of Mavis. These photos are nothing like the ones she’s taken of me. These pictures look timeless, like something from a magazine. The kind of photos that give you a glimpse into who that person is, partly because of the setting.
“That’s incredible,” Mavis says, studying the last photo Violet showed us. “I’m still old.” She shrugs. “But there’s just something about this photo that’s compelling. Do you think I can have a copy?”
Before Violet can answer, the bell over the door jingles. Mayor Wineberg enters, along with Cora Lee Giffin, the queen of cupcakes.
The mayor’s gaze falls on us and she beams. She walks toward us. “Just the cowboy I wanted to see.”
Cora Lee follows close behind.
Diane Wineberg is in her sixties and has been the mayor for the past fifteen years. She’s wearing her typical jeans and cowboy boots and a red western shirt, with white embroidered roses and lots of sequins.
Mayor Wineberg loves her sequins.
Cora Lee is the complete opposite, in a summer dress and sandals. Her long, blonde hair is pulled back in two loose braids.
I dip the rim of my hat in greeting. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“I wanted to tell you how excited we all are—and by we, I mean the citizens of Copper Creek—that you’re on the reality show. It’s going to do great things for increasing awareness of our fine town. Lord knows we could benefit from the increased tourism.”
Increased? We don’t get tourists. Period.
“I’ll do what I can.” Which is pretty much a big fat zero. I’ve done my part. Now hopefully my part doesn’t include being a contestant for the rest of the season.
She nods. “The town council and I met the other day to discuss how we can capitalize on the show’s publicity for the town. For example, Jennifer Goodwin is thinking about starting a bed and breakfast. Her great-aunt died two months ago and willed her the old Mathews house.”
“Isn’t that place haunted?” Violet exaggerates a shudder.
The mayor laughs. “That’s just a rumor her great-aunt started because she thought it would be entertaining—especially at Halloween.”
“Did she die in the house?” Violet asks.
“Nah,” I say, “she died in a car accident. Old Bert Saunders claims Bigfoot caused it. Bert was in the car at the time but was drunker than a skunk found in a beer keg.” According to Tilly.
What actually caused the accident? A deer.
“So her spirit isn’t haunting the house?”
“That’s right. It’s one hundred percent ghost-free,” Cora Lee reports. “And the perfect location for a bed and breakfast.”
“And it’s just one of the many businesses that will benefit from the show,” Mayor Wineberg says. “And from our plans to revitalize the town.”
“It would be nice to have more customers come into the store,” Mavis says on a sigh. “The way it is now, business is not all that great. An influx of tourists would be wonderful.”
“Have you thought of starting an online business?” Violet asks. “Then you won’t be as impacted by the lack of tourists.”
Mavis’s eyes widened as if she’s just seen the Grim Reaper himself. “Online business? I wouldn’t even know how to start one. It’s a miracle that I figured out how to turn on a computer.”
Violet smiles softly. “How about I drop by tomorrow afternoon and we can talk?”
The panic on Mavis’s face fades a bit. “That would be wonderful, dear.”
Mayor Wineberg turns back to me. “When the TV crew comes back to town, it will be a great reminder that Copper Creek exists. We’ll have to do more than that to help make this town great, but it’ll be a start.”
“You do realize I might not make it that far in the show? If not enough viewers vote for me, then I’m out.” And I’ll be one very happy cowboy.
“Oh, don’t you go worrying yourself there, young man. We’ve already got that covered.” She pats me on the back. “This time next year, you and the missus will be working on your contribution to increasing the town’s population.”
“From what I’ve heard,” I say, “Natalie isn’t interested in kids.” Which is why I was picked as a contestant—thanks to Noah’s answers on the application form.
The mayor’s shoulders droop before perking up again. “Oh, that’s a shame.”
“It’s not like TJ’s looking to have kids either,” Cora Lee says, stating what I didn’t realize was public knowledge. “Which is why on paper they would be a perfect match.”
Mayor Wineberg goes from looking disappointed to horrified. “After seeing you with Violet’s son around town, I pegged you as a family man. Oh, well, just as long as you’re marrying Natalie because you love her and she loves you, that’s all that matters. Now, I should get back to check how the campaign is going.”
“Campaign?” As far as I know, the next town election isn’t for another two years.
The mayor’s smile when she entered the store is nothing like it is now. “As I said before, you’ve got nothing to worry about, TJ, when it comes to the next part of the show.”
Am I the only one who finds that far from reassuring?
Violet and I return to the ranch house after the antique store. Neither of us mentions what the mayor said. Right now, I don’t even want to think of the show.
There’s only one thing on my mind—the first position I plan to fuck Violet in.
My brothers are on the couch, watching an action movie.
Jake raises his beer bottle at us. “Hey, Violet, what are you doing here?” Somehow, he keeps the knowing smirk off his face that is buried in his tone.
She crouches and gives Asgard all the attention he’s been starving for since we entered the room. “I came to help you guys with your website and social media accounts.”
A loud explosion from the movie pulls Jake’s attention back to the screen. “Well, have fun with that,” is all he has to say. Noah doesn’t even acknowledge our existence, too focused on the TV to notice us.
I slip my fingers between Violet’s and lead her down the hall to the office.
The room is dark when we enter.
“Wait a second,” she says as I reach to turn on the light. “I want to see the view when it’s dark.” She smoothly navigates her way to the large window.
I join her there. The nearly black sky is filled with billions of tiny dots of light. Some are faint. Others form the constellations.
Can I name them?
Not at all. Jake tried to teach me them when we were kids. I was too busy to pay attention, my head alw
ays in one comic book or another.
“It’s so beautiful,” Violet says, face turned skyward. Her voice is soft, awed. “I forgot just how beautiful it is here.” A long, slow breath releases from between her lips. “I’ve always wanted to make love under the stars.” This time the words are said in almost a whisper, and for a second I wonder if I misheard her.
It’s the increased da boom, da boom, da boom of my heart that tells me I heard her correctly. And with each beat, my chest feels like it’s filling with helium, making me lighter, making it easier to breathe.
Why? I have no idea. Biology wasn’t really my thing in high school.
I wrap my arms around her, her back pressed against me. I tenderly kiss her neck, inhaling the sweet scent that is all Violet. She trembles at my touch. With a level of reverence I’ve never experienced before, my mouth slowly travels up her skin. At her earlobe, I nibble and tease and enjoy the sweet erotic noises she makes.
“Want to go to my room?” Then we won’t have to worry about Jake or Noah accidentally barging in on us.
“That might be a good idea,” she murmurs back.
My fingers threaded with hers, I lead her upstairs, where the view from my room matches the one from the office.
As she gazes out at the starry night, I brush my thumb across her nipple, hidden under the fabric of her dress and bra. But it’s not enough. I need to feel her naked against me.
I let my hand drop to her hips and turn her around to face me. It’s too dark to see her expression, but her soft pants tell me all I need to know. I unbutton the front of her dress, then help it slide down her body—revealing her lacy pink panties and matching bra.
I nudge back the urgent need to turn on the light, so I can memorize what she looks like standing in front of me this way.
But this isn’t about what I want. It’s about Violet wanting to make love under the stars.
Or close enough, given it’s chilly outside at this time of night.
I reach behind her and unhook her bra. With my fingertips blazing a path along her skin, I slip the straps down her shoulders.
Once her bra joins the dress on the floor, I cup her full breasts in my hands. They fit perfectly…like this is where they belong.
Cowboy Most Wanted Page 13
