“Kids?” The older man’s bushy eyebrows rose as he stared, openly assessing him. “Is that so?”
He swallowed. “Not yet, sir, but eventually.”
Enzo, a formidable man in his own right, paused and then said, “Marry her first and we’ll talk. Until then...be a gentleman and keep your hands to yourself.”
Rian would’ve promised the moon. All he heard was Enzo had given them his blessing...even if it came with a stern condition. “Yes, sir,” he said, bobbing his head. “Won’t touch her until the wedding.”
Enzo chuckled and walked away. It was then that Rian realized he might’ve just made a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.
He returned to CoCo’s room and immediately kissed her. Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled, a little unsure and he didn’t blame her.
“What are you doing? You don’t have to stay any longer,” she said quietly, searching his gaze. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me—”
“Marry me,” he blurted out and she stopped, shocked.
“What?”
“Um, yeah, marry me,” he said with a resolute nod. There was no turning back now. He knew what he wanted and didn’t care if anyone else thought he was being impetuous, spontaneous or just plain nuts. He knew how he felt about CoCo and it wasn’t likely to change, so why waste time? “I just promised your dad that I wouldn’t touch you again until after the wedding so...yeah, that might’ve been a tall order. How do you feel about a quickie courthouse wedding?”
She stared at him. Was she overwhelmed or wondering if he was crazy for thinking that she might want to marry him? And then she broke out into smiles and tears and pulled him weakly to her so she could kiss him again. He was careful not to hurt her but he was so relieved that she hadn’t told him to pound sand. He pulled away, searching her gaze. “So...is that a yes?”
“To the worst proposal ever?” she asked.
He nodded sheepishly because he had to admit that hadn’t been the way he’d imagined asking the woman of his dreams to be his forever but hey, as long as she said yes, he didn’t care.
“Yeah, pretty much,” he said and she grinned more broadly, which he took as a good sign. “So courthouse quickie as soon as you’re able?”
“Oh, I’ll marry you, but hell no to the courthouse quickie. I’m Italian. You’re crazy if you think my family can fit in a courthouse. No, my wedding will be in Italy at my father’s villa and it will be the biggest, most off-the-charts sensation that you’ve ever seen. So prepare yourself. My Italian cousins are a handful.”
He didn’t care. He’d agree to anything. Except... “Do you think your dad was serious about not touching until the wedding?”
She nodded. “Like a heart attack.” But as Rian groaned, wondering how he was going to manage to keep that promise, she whispered, “But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. My father likes to think I’ve been saving myself for marriage.”
Rian guffawed at that idea until he realized he’d laughed a little too loudly and CoCo scowled at the implication. He immediately sobered and said, “Whatever you want, babe. I’d do anything for you. Even if it means keeping my hands to myself while you plan the wedding of the century. Just promise me one thing...”
“Yeah?”
He got serious and cupped her hand gently. “Promise me you’ll never put yourself in the path of a bullet ever again. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never get that image of you crumpling to the ground out of my head.”
Her eyes watered and she nodded, then whispered, “I promise.”
And that’s all he needed.
Well, that and CoCo by his side for the rest of their lives.
He’d fallen hard for the Italian heiress—not bad for a country boy from Kentucky.
Both Dalton boys had done good. Damn good. Bet no one saw that one coming!
Epilogue
“NO TURNING BACK NOW,” his brother said, helping him adjust his tie because his own hands were shaking so hard. “You look great, little brother.”
Rian looked to Kane and gripped his arm gratefully. “Thanks for everything. You’re the reason I turned into anyone halfway decent. You made sure I was fed, safe, even got me my first job.”
Kane’s eyes watered but he covered with a gruff “Don’t be going all mushy on me now.” But then he added, “You didn’t need me to be who you were meant to be. You were always a good kid and you’re an even better man.”
The wedding march started and he knew this was the moment he’d always been waiting for, even if he’d never known it. The woman of his dreams was going to marry him today. He could hardly believe it. A lot had happened in the year since Barto Calvino had taken his shot at CoCo and it was dizzying to try to put it all in a timeline but the highlights were simple and profound.
CoCo was now a full-fledged partner in the Abelli shoe empire, making waves with her beautiful, feminine heels that everyone seemed to want to have—helped in no small part by Laci wearing Abelli heels exclusively on her newest tour—and CoCo had realized that she’d been hiding behind a party lifestyle to keep from admitting that she was afraid of failing. Now it was hard to remember when CoCo had been a hard-core party animal because today, she was a businesswoman and artist. Except behind closed doors, then she returned to her wild roots and did things that made Rian worship at her feet.
Enzo, determined to make things right as best he could, named the newest line the Calvino and donated every cent of the sales to a scholarship fund in Vincent’s name for aspiring designers with Italian ancestry and humble beginnings. It’d made Enzo feel good to associate something positive with Vincent instead of the unfortunate stain his son had caused, all because of something Enzo had done when he’d been young and too ambitious to see beyond his actions.
“You ready to do this?” Kane asked.
Rian met his brother’s inquisitive look with a resolute one of his own. “I’m more than ready, brother. Let’s do this.”
“All right, then. Let’s go.”
Today was the start of the rest of his life, and Rian, for one, couldn’t wait to get things rolling.
He and CoCo had a lifetime of lovin’, fightin’ and baby-makin’ to do and he didn’t want to waste another minute.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A COWBOY RETURNS by Kelli Ireland.
http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Blaze story.
You like it hot! Harlequin Blaze stories sizzle with strong heroines and irresistible heroes playing the game of modern love and lust. They’re fun, sexy and always steamy.
Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin Blaze every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
A Cowboy Returns
Kelli Ireland
1
ELIJAH COVINGTON NEVER thought he’d find religion on a commuter flight, but when the tiny plane plummeted the last fifty feet to the runway, he prayed. Little more than a closed-cockpit crop duster, the little plane skipped down the cracked asphalt runway hard enough to compress his spine. He would have given anything for the firm’s corporate jet and his chiropractor right about then.
Of course, he should probably just be grateful they weren’t landing on a dirt strip. They’d had to circle several times while the neighboring rancher retrieved his cows from the runway. That had been bad enough.
The flight attendant made an inane joke at the pilot’s expense, but Eli only half listened. Thumbing his smart
phone on, he waited for a signal. His service indicator showed a single bar. A single bar.
“I’m in hell,” he muttered, but that wasn’t true. Hell undoubtedly had better cell service.
Scrolling through emails, he ignored the flight attendant’s glare. He might have been obligated to come home to manage the distribution of his father’s estate, but that didn’t require he cut himself off from civilization entirely. With any luck, he could get to the ranch, go through the estate paperwork, file the will and be gone within the week. Had his old man been remotely organized, this could have been done by mail. And had the estate been reasonably solvent, they could have hired someone to manage the distributions altogether. No doubt, there wouldn’t be any money.
That had to be why his youngest brother, Tyson, had emailed and asked him to come home and handle estate “issues.” Otherwise? They never would have called him home. He’d have just received whatever his old man left him via certified mail.
Eli glanced out the window at the desert landscape. New Mexico always looked caught between centuries and droughts. The landscape was as foreign to him as Austin would be to his brothers. Here in Tucumcari, the wide plateau created a backdrop decorated with cedar shrubs, barbed wire fences and black grama grass. Cows outnumbered people twenty to one, and if you didn’t drive a pickup, you’d better be riding a horse.
The only beef Eli cared about was braised, his vehicle was an Audi R8 and the only horses that mattered were under the hood.
He’d always been the piece that didn’t fit this particular puzzle.
Elijah snorted and shook his head, pulling his small travel bag out from under his seat. Might as well get this over with.
Fifteen minutes later he was standing beside a tiny Ford Fiesta with a dented fender, an AM/FM radio and questionable air-conditioning. It was the better of the two cars available at the only car rental service in town.
“I’m in hell,” he repeated, struggling against a temper he’d all but mastered over the past fourteen years.
Fourteen years.
He’d been gone almost as long as he’d lived here.
Peeling off his Canali suit jacket, he tossed it across the passenger seat before folding himself behind the wheel. A generous layer of grit on the rubber floor mat ground under his heel. The little car shimmied as the four-cylinder engine sputtered and choked before it caught and, obviously under duress, whined to life.
The rental attendant tipped the brim of his hat in salute and wandered inside the tiny office as Eli drove away. He hadn’t remembered Elijah, or had pretended not to as a matter of convenience to avoid unnecessary chitchat. Small towns worked that way. You were either on the inside or exiled for life.
The next few days would be a lot of the same. Tight-knit communities were very unforgiving when one of their own escaped, and his leaving had been an escape. As well loved as his father had been, everyone saw his departure as a first-rate betrayal—oldest son to old man.
Elijah refused to feel guilty for wanting a different life, a better life. He had it now and hadn’t asked for handouts along the way. He’d earned his place, and he wasn’t sorry that place wasn’t here. With one exception...
Caught up in his own thoughts, he ran one of the two traffic lights in town.
An extended-cab four-wheel-drive pickup swerved, brakes chattering and tires squealing. It hit the curb, skipping up and over with a hard bounce before coming to rest in the hedges in front of the Blue Swallow motel.
Heart lodged in his throat, Eli shut the little car down and left it in the middle of the road, racing toward the truck. He couldn’t see anyone moving inside. Then a black-and-white head popped up and looked out the rear window.
A dog.
If anything, the dog seemed exhilarated at the wild ride, his feathery tail wagging with obvious enthusiasm.
Eli reached the driver’s side and found a cowboy-hatted individual slumped forward, forehead against the steering wheel, arms lax, hands resting next to trim thighs. A woman. He reached for the truck door. The dog objected, going from excited to back-the-hell-off between breaths. The animal crossed his owner and bared his teeth in a feral growl, blatantly daring Eli to open the door.
Not interested in losing any body parts, Eli knocked on the window hard enough to rouse the woman.
She rolled her head to the side, green eyes narrowed in an impressive glare. The moment those eyes focused on Eli, they flared with almost-comedic alarm. Almost.
Because his did the same thing.
Reagan Armstrong.
The one person he’d intended to avoid altogether stared at him in utter disbelief. Her mouth hung open in shock. She didn’t move.
History rose up between them, an invisible, insurmountable wall of differences that stole every word that might have allayed old hurts or bridged the gap of time to allow them to communicate. At least while he was here.
Leaning one arm against the truck’s door frame, Eli gave a small jerk of his chin. “Reagan? Lower your window.”
She mouthed something that, if it matched the look in her eyes, was seriously foul.
He was prepared for that. What he wasn’t prepared for was for her to shove the door open. The mirror folded as it nailed his shoulder. Then the hot metal of the door’s edge slammed into his sternum hard enough he wasn’t sure if he’d been burned or if the bone had cracked or both.
She spoke before her boots hit the dirt, her voice as smooth as the truck’s diesel engine. “Well, well. If it isn’t Elijah Covington. Or would that be Mr. Covington, Esquire, since you’re an Austin attorney now? Just what you always wanted—bigger, better and worlds away from here—so I suppose congratulations would be appropriate. I mean, you made it out, made your way and managed to break your word, all in one impressive feat.”
His brows drew together. “What are you talking about, ‘break my word’?”
“You said you’d come home. Promised, in fact. But I’d be willing to bet you hit the county line at a dead run and never thought about us again. Good on you, Esquire.” The last was offered with near indifference or would have been if she hadn’t begun to clap slowly for emphasis.
It was that last action that betrayed her, because, despite their fourteen years apart, Eli knew her.
The aged and seasoned hurt that lurked beneath the surface of her words sliced through his conscience with cold efficiency. He’d wanted her to come with him, but she’d made it clear her life was here. And his life could never be here.
“You knew we wanted different things. I was never going to fit in here. Not like you did. My dad. My brothers. Leaving was my only option. And I didn’t just skip out on you.” Running his hands through his hair, he huffed out a heavy breath. “Look, Reagan,” he started, and then the wind shifted, carrying her smell to him, all fresh-cut hay and sunshine on warm skin.
Overwhelmed with sensory memories, his gaze homed in on lips that parted in almost curious shock. And just like that, she was the girl he’d loved. And yet, with time and distance, she had somehow evolved into more.
She’d always been his sun, chasing away the shadows he hadn’t been able to banish himself. Unwelcome memories of yesteryear hovered at the fringes of his consciousness. He needed to touch her, needed the tenderness he’d always found waiting in her.
He closed the distance between them. His lips closed over hers and he pulled her into his embrace. The shock of cinnamon on his tongue told him she still loved Big Red gum, and the flavor transferred between them. Her lips were soft, pliable and so familiar his heart ached with the memories of a thousand and more shared moments. Being here, in New Mexico, didn’t hurt so much with her in his arms.
He wasn’t only “Covington’s oldest boy.” He wasn’t burdened with the unshakable disappointment his father had found in him. He wasn’t a failure of an older brother. He was
Eli. Just Eli. And he could survive that.
His troubles became manageable as their tongues touched, tentative for the briefest moment. Then he took over the kiss. Dominating the moment, he took comfort in her nearness and yelped like a scolded pup when she bit his lip. Hard.
Parking both hands on his chest, she shoved and shouted, “What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” Eyes wild, she dragged a hand over her mouth. “You don’t waltz into town after fourteen years, run me off the road and then... You don’t... You can’t kiss me like...like...you ass!”
“‘Ass’? I kiss you and you call me an ass?” Eli’s lips thinned as his once-infamous temper, second only to hers and all but squashed under years of educational and professional training, raced forward like a laser-guided missile, target locked, impact imminent. “I’m going to point out the obvious here, Reagan. You kissed me, too.”
“I didn’t... That is... No. There was no mutual... No, I didn’t!” Chest heaving, she drove a finger into his chest. “Why are you even here? The funeral was two freaking weeks ago. You should’ve been here then. But you show up now, expecting everyone to bend to your expectations. That’s so typical, Eli. It’s always been the way you operate,” she snapped, backing up until she bumped into her truck. She hopped in, never taking her eyes off him. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still smart as shit when it comes to business and dumb as dirt when it comes to people.”
“Hey,” he objected, but she powered on without pause.
Sex, Lies and Designer Shoes Page 18
