Protect Me, Cowboy (78th Copper Mountain Rodeo Book 2)

by Shelli Stevens

  That earned a loud laugh from Cal and his eyes twinkled with amusement.

  “You don’t say.”

  Wyatt cursed under his breath. The last thing his womanizing little brother needed was a bigger ego.

  “Well, thanks, Claire.” Cal’s grin flashed a bright white smile. “Anyway, thought I’d borrow Wyatt for a minute if you don’t mind.”

  “Go for it.” She glanced up at Wyatt from beneath her lashes for a moment. “I figure I’ll just stare at the river and let the five pounds of pancakes in my stomach digest.”

  Damn but if he didn’t just want to stay here and kiss the sticky sweetness off her mouth. Watch the dark eyes glaze over from pleasure, not carbs.

  That’d give the folks in Marietta something to really gossip about.

  Instead he gave her leg a reassuring squeeze and rose from his chair to go talk with his brother.

  *

  Claire stared after them as they walked toward the gazebo, and gave another quiet harrumph.

  The Marshall family obviously had good genes, because Calvin Marshall was just as attractive as his brother. Well, maybe not quite as attractive, but then she was biased.

  In her twenty-four years she’d never met anyone who was quite as sexy and magnetic as Wyatt. She’d been just as drawn to him in Vegas as she was now.

  Before arriving in Marietta she’d convinced herself Vegas had been a fluke. That their chemistry had been mostly tequila driven. But now, here with him again in this adorable small town, her theory had been blown to smithereens.

  When he’d asked permission to come inside her cabin last night, she’d been ridiculously relieved their night together didn’t have to come to an end.

  He’d promised not to make love to her, and she’d been okay with that. Maybe even a little relieved they were taking it slow.

  What she hadn’t expected to feel was so protected and cherished just by lying in his arms. Peaceful. It was a feeling she hadn’t had, well, maybe ever in her life.

  “Your little band was great last night.”

  Claire glanced up toward the female voice. The woman was mostly in shadows with the sun shining directly behind her. This would be the fourth person who’d come over to chat and tell her how impressed they were with Bourbon and Boots’ performance last night.

  “Thank you.” She smiled and when the woman shifted, Claire recognized her immediately.

  The redhead who’d been dancing with Wyatt last night.

  “Mind if I sit down for a spell?”

  “A spell? Is that some kind of witch thing?”

  The smile on the redhead’s face slipped into dismay.

  “I’m kidding,” Claire replied.

  Damn it, she hated when she had to explain a joke to someone. Completely ruined the effect.

  “By all means. Have a seat.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” The woman sat down and folded her hands in her lap. “We haven’t met, but I’m—”

  “Luanne? Yes, Wyatt told me.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose he must’ve told you we were a couple in college then.”

  No. He hadn’t. Her stomach sank as Claire gave a small nod.

  Luanne nodded, looking pleased. “We go way back, Wyatt and I. People called us the golden couple.”

  “How… sweet.” The kind of sweet that made her a little nauseous. Why had this woman sought her out today? And why hadn’t Wyatt mentioned the two had been a couple?

  “It really was.” Luanne gave a whimsical sigh. “We really were a golden couple. Probably would’ve been married with two point five kids by now if Wyatt wasn’t already married to the ranch.”

  Claire did a slow blink and tried to reassure herself she hadn’t heard Luanne wrong.

  How did she even reply to something so ridiculous? Fortunately, she didn’t really need to, because Luanne seemed happy to keep talking.

  “That man is all work and no play.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Between professional rodeo and working on the ranch, he was just gone all the time.”

  “I can imagine that takes up all his time.” Claire attempted politeness.

  “Oh, not anymore. He gave up the pro-circuit after his daddy died last fall. He and Katie took over running the ranch.”

  Claire silently absorbed those two blatant info spills. Wyatt had not only quit the pro-circuit, but his dad had died not even a year ago. When he’d told her his dad had died, she’d wrongly assumed it had been years ago.

  Why the hell are you listening to gossip, Claire?

  Then again, maybe it wasn’t gossip. This could very well be common knowledge in Marietta.

  “I take it there’s some attraction between you two?” Luanne prodded.

  Claire couldn’t stop a sharp laugh. “What? That’s not really your business.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  Apparently she had no boundaries either.

  “I barely know him.” Why was she even answering? Defending herself? But she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “I’m always on the road performing. I don’t even know what love is.”

  “Oh, now that is such a great song.”

  Claire tilted her head and frowned, trying to figure out if that was even a song. “You mean, ‘I want to know what love is’?”

  Luanne smiled, looking smug. “Yeah. That’s what I just said.”

  It wasn’t what she’d said, and nothing irritated Claire more than people who couldn’t get their damn songs straight. She was a music snob, what could she say.

  Claire pushed her chair back and grabbed her plate. “I’d better go throw this—”

  “Hold on, Claire.” The smile disappeared instantly and Luanne’s eyes hardened. “Now that Wyatt’s getting real serious about ranching, he’s probably going to want to settle down now and start a family.”

  Claire had been rising to stand, her butt an inch off the chair. She sank back down. So here it was. The crux of why Luanne had joined her this morning.

  “All right. Clearly you’re itching to let me have it. So why don’t you just go ahead and say what you need to say, Luanne. Then I’ll be on my way.”

  Luanne’s eyes widened innocently. “I’m not trying to be impolite, Claire, I just wanted to warn you. Wyatt might be having some fun with you now, but you’re not really his type.”

  Irritation flashed to life inside Claire. “I’m curious why you would presume to know anything about me.”

  Mocking pity flickered in the other woman’s eyes as she glanced over Claire from head to toe. Claire felt instantly self-conscious in her rose colored lace tank top and jeans.

  “I know when someone’s a fake. Someone who tries to act like they belong in a small town like Marietta, but doesn’t have a clue. And, sure, you might be adorable up on that stage singing country music, but you’re like a toddler wearing her mama’s heels. You’re not the real thing like I am.”

  Luanne leaned forward, her words quiet and cold. “You’d never make it as a rancher’s wife. I know a city girl when I see one.”

  The anger that had boiled up simmered down into fear, as for one terrifying moment, Claire thought Luanne had figured out who she really was.

  “So I hope you get smart and move your delicate behind back to Bozeman.”

  Bozeman. Bozeman was the city she’d been referring to.

  “Wyatt Marshall and I are going to end up back together, Claire. Even if he has to screw you first to scratch that itch.” And just as quickly as she’d shown up, Luanne stood and strode off.

  Claire looked around the park and swallowed the lump in her throat. All around her the town folks were eating and talking. There was air of excitement and festivity in the air.

  A half-hour ago, Claire had been right there with them. Now she was angry. A little sad. Most importantly she felt like the fake—the outsider—that Luanne had called her.

  With Wyatt nowhere in sight anymore, she grabbed her plate and dumped it in the garbage, then went to walk down by the
river.

  Chapter Ten

  Coming off of an illuminating conversation with his brother, Wyatt made his way back to the table where he’d left Claire.

  Only she wasn’t there.

  Puzzled, he swung his glance around the park and searched the mass of people.

  Just a bunch of familiar faces, but no one with doe eyes and curly blonde hair. No one who kept him all twisted up inside.

  Where had she disappeared to?

  A flash of red hair caught his gaze and he noticed Luanne a few tables over chatting with another barrel racer. She glanced up and caught his gaze, offering him a slow smile.

  With a curt nod, he tore his gaze away. He didn’t want to encourage her right now.

  “She went down to the river.”

  He glanced up as Carol Bingley sidled up beside him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The little blonde singer from the band?” she said conspiringly. “Well, you are looking for her right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Bingley preened, looking mighty proud of herself.

  “Saw her a few minutes ago head down to the river. Right after she was talking to that snotty redheaded barrel rider.”

  That couldn’t bode well. What the hell had Luanne said to her?

  “Thanks.” He gave Carol a quick smile and strode toward the river, for once appreciative of the town’s most notorious gossip.

  He found Claire sitting near the river’s edge, arms wrapped around her folded knees and her chin balanced on top. She was clearly lost in thought and didn’t even look up at his approaching footsteps on the rocky bank.

  “Was starting to worry about you.” He sat down next to her, stretching out his legs toward the water.

  “Were you now?”

  “Yeah.”

  Something was off. Different. “You okay?”

  She was silent for a moment, then, “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. Whatever Luanne said to you must’ve really gotten under your skin.”

  She gave a humorless laugh. “Ah, so you must’ve seen her go in for the kill.”

  “No, I was out by the parking lot with Cal. If I’d seen her I would’ve stopped her. What did she say to you, Claire?”

  Whatever sort of conversation they’d had, it wasn’t all puppies and rainbows.

  Claire stared at the river. “She was just warning me off. I didn’t realize you guys had been a couple.”

  Wyatt swore under his breath. “Because it’s irrelevant. It’s been nearly a decade since we were even a couple. Don’t know why she’s trying to stake a claim all of a sudden.”

  This time Claire’s laugh was full of genuine amusement and she turned and glanced at him through her lashes.

  “Really? No clue at all?”

  He scowled. “I’m the same man I was back in college. If she was going to try, you’d figure she’d have tried earlier.”

  “This modesty thing you’ve got going on doesn’t suit you,” she chided gently. “You won that big rodeo thing in Vegas. The NFR, right? Got that giant buckle? That’s huge. I’m not even a rodeo junkie, and I know that.”

  He grunted, not sure that would’ve been enough to make Luanne want him back.

  “Not to mention you inherited a successful cattle ranch,” she added.

  His scowl deepened. “Not just me. Cal and Katie, too.”

  “Still.” She nudged his boot with her own. “Add in the fact you’re single and ridiculously attractive, you’re quite the package, Wyatt Marshall.”

  His brows rose like a snapped rubber band. “Ridiculously attractive, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not even going to answer that. You’ve got mirrors at the ranch.”

  He’d never spent all that much time thinking about his looks, really. His brother Cal, on the other hand, was the one who’d known and used his good looks to his advantage.

  “You’re quite the catch, Wyatt. I have no idea how someone like you is still single.”

  He’d been single more often than not in the last decade. Being on the circuit just made it too difficult to maintain a healthy relationship. He’d tried a couple times and it’d always ended badly. So he’d kept his encounters with women brief and strings-free.

  But that runaway train of a life had come to a stop, and now he was up to his elbows in cattle ranching. And if he admitted it to himself, in the last few months that prickle of loneliness—the urge to settle down—was starting to hit.

  “Sometimes it’s easier to be single than to get back into that shit show called dating.”

  She laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Do you?” He cast her a speculative look. “Did you find a way to date despite your obsessive and controlling boss?”

  Her amusement died. “No. Actually, I don’t think I went on a single date when I was in Vegas.” She sighed and glanced out at the river. “But I meant dating while here in Montana. Just haven’t found the energy or desire to even try.”

  “I understand completely.”

  She glanced at him, seemed on the fence at saying something. “Luanne mentioned your dad died. I didn’t realize it was so recent. I’m sorry, Wyatt.”

  “She told you that, huh?” An ache filled Wyatt’s chest and his throat went tight. Finally, he gave a short nod. “Yeah, Pops died a couple weeks before the NFR.”

  “Oh, my god. How did you even compete?” She shook her head. “Were you not very close to him?”

  “Oh, we were close. All his kids loved him to the moon and back.” He paused, thinking about his early childhood. “There’s not much we wouldn’t have done for him. He sacrificed everything for us over the years.”

  “God, I’m so sorry, Wyatt. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  “Lung cancer. Smoked up until the day he died. Never around us, of course.” He gave a twisted smile, amusement pricking with the sadness, as he thought back on it. “Threatened to throw us out of the house if we ever picked up a cigarette.”

  “Think he’d have done it?”

  “Hell, no. He was just worried we’d get hooked on the things like he was, that’s all.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  He kicked another rock into the river. “Anyways, Pops was so proud of me for going pro. He knew he probably wouldn’t make it to see me compete at the NFR, but made me promise to go, no matter what happened.”

  She slipped her hand into his, and the touch warmed the cold ache that shrouded his heat. The tension in his muscles eased and he relaxed more. Talking with Claire about this kind of thing was as natural as breathing.

  He threaded his fingers through hers. He wanted to pull her onto his lap again. Feel her soft curves against him. Bury his face in her hair and breathe in the scent of her shampoo.

  Damn. It didn’t matter what they were talking about, it always came back to one stark truth. He wanted Claire more than he could remember ever wanting another woman.

  *

  “So you did it for your dad? Competing in Vegas.”

  Claire slid another glance up at Wyatt from beneath her lashes. The set of his jaw and the hint of pain in his eyes meant it was still raw in his heart.

  Which made her feel really shallow for being on heightened awareness at how nice it felt to have his calloused hand holding hers. Almost sensual.

  “I did it for him.” He gave a lopsided smile. “And I did it for me, if I’m honest. I wanted that damn win.”

  “Sounds like you worked your ass off for it over the years. Can’t say I blame you.”

  “Still, after I won in Vegas, I knew it was time to hang up my hat. Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He traced his thumb over her palm. “I had a great run, but with dad gone, I needed to step up and take his place.”

  God, it was distracting trying to think when he was doing that. “What about Cal? Katie?”

  “Cal had already committed to a foreman job on another ranch. And Katie helps with the cooking. Some o
f the bookkeeping and tourist stuff…”

  “But you were already half running it with your dad, I’m guessing?”

  “Yeah. I was always out there with him as a kid and teenager. When I went pro, I wasn’t around as much, but when I was home I was right there with him.”

  “Do you miss it? Being pro?”

  “Nah. It was fun while I was in it, but I was burning out.” He grinned. “Didn’t quit completely, though, or I wouldn’t be competing this weekend.”

  “This is your hometown and they love you,” she said gently. “They’d be heartbroken if you didn’t compete.”

  “Yeah, well, I figure it may be my last year with that, too. Give some of the young guys a chance.” His laugh was low, sexy. “Or go out on a high note before I start showing my age.”

  “You’re not even thirty, I bet.”

  He sobered. “Not very long before I will be and I oughtta be thinking about other things, like getting married and having kids. Usual stuff guys my age are doing.”

  Awkward.

  Claire’s breath caught and tension crept through her. How was she supposed to reply to that? Why did he even say it to her? It wasn’t like she was in the running for the position of wife.

  “Sorry, I was just thinking aloud.” He gave an uneasy laugh.

  But the way he traced her palm with his thumb sent tingles of awareness and pleasure through her.

  Closing her eyes, she asked weakly, “What are we doing, cowboy?”

  He sighed. “We don’t have to overthink it. We’re enjoying the moment. The time we have together.”

  It wasn’t long enough. Yet, it was almost too much.

  A one-night fling would’ve been easier. Like if things had worked out in Vegas. She was less likely to get attached to him. It could just be lust-filled fun.

  This long weekend was drawing it out. It was building an emotional bond and leading to the inevitable moment when they went to bed together. Then when both had to say goodbye.

  He was talking about wanting a wife and kids, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted that kind of responsibility. She’d probably be a terrible wife, and an even worse parent just like hers had been.