by Jennie Marts
* * *
Colt woke before the sun, his eyes scratchy with too little sleep and his back aching from a fitful night spent on the sofa. Not that he’d complain. He’d take itchy eyes and aching muscles any night if it meant knowing Chloe was safe and under his roof.
He’d considered skipping his morning chores and having Mason cover for him, but his brother had already texted he needed an extra hand that morning getting one of the stables patched up and the cattle fed in the south pasture. Colt had learned long ago a rancher had a duty to his land and livestock first. They were his livelihood, his responsibility. If he took care of them, they would eventually return the favor, one way or the other, through a plentiful crop or providing food for the table or money in the bank.
Thankfully, he had fresh clothes sitting in a basket in the laundry room, and he took a quick shower in the guest bathroom so as not to wake Chloe. He made coffee and filled a travel thermos for himself and left the rest of the pot for her. His mom had given him a plate of blueberry muffins the day before, and he left them in the center of the counter with a note telling Chloe to make herself at home, and he’d be back as soon as he finished his morning chores.
He considered whistling for the dog, but decided to leave Watson with Chloe. He might lick the freckles off the face of a friend, but he recognized danger and would do his best to warn and protect Chloe. Not that Colt thought Rank would have any clue she was out here, or dare to step foot on his land, but having the dog in the house would hopefully offer her some peace of mind.
So he added a bit to his note asking her to drop a scoop of dog food into Watson’s bowl when she got up, then slipped quietly out the front door.
* * *
Chloe pulled the covers tighter under her chin and snuggled into the pillow. She’d been having the most delicious dream that Colt had brought her to his cabin and she’d fallen asleep in his bed. A warm breath of air caressed her cheek, and she opened one eye, wishing to see Colt’s handsome face on the pillow across from her.
But instead of Colt’s sandy-blond hair, she saw the copper-colored hair of his golden retriever as he lay with his head on the edge of her pillow. She cringed and reared her head back as a giant pink tongue tried to lap up her cheek. Not quite the kind of kiss she’d been dreaming of waking up to.
“Colt?” she called out as the dog stretched and groaned beside her. Her voice was scratchy and raw, and she tried again, a little louder this time. No answer.
The dog jumped off the bed and headed out of the room, and she padded after him, the scent of coffee leading her toward the kitchen. She read Colt’s note, then dumped a scoop of food into the dog’s bowl and filled his water dish. The muffins looked delicious, and she took a bite of one as she filled a mug with coffee. The taste of blueberries mixed with vanilla-flavored bread and just a hint of lemon had her groaning in pleasure as she stuffed another bite in her mouth. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Although this muffin was so good, she probably still would have eaten two even if she’d already finished a four-course meal.
She found some sugar in the cupboard and creamer in the refrigerator, but couldn’t find a measuring spoon, so had to make do with using a regular spoon to prepare her coffee, then wandered around the living room looking at framed photos and the bric-a-brac that made up Colt’s life. A picture of him and his brothers when they were teenagers, all smiles and laughter with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. A sweet picture of Colt as a little boy with his mom in the kitchen next to a mixer, him standing on a chair holding a beater laden with cookie dough as he flashed a grin. One of his front teeth was missing, but the dimple in his chin was there.
Another picture of him and his brothers with a man she assumed was his father; he looked like an older version of Mason. They were standing in a row in front of a lake, all three boys proudly holding up a fish they must have caught. Colt’s fish was the biggest, and his back buckled as he held the monster aloft. Rock was the tallest of the boys, but he held the smallest fish, a sheepish grin creasing his face. They seemed like a good family, like they were close and truly loved each other and got along. Chloe bit back the tiny pang of jealousy that liked to rear its ugly head whenever she saw or heard about a family who cared for each other and got along so well.
The dog whined at the back door, and she opened it and stood in the doorway as Watson ran out into the yard. Yard was putting it mildly. Colt’s backyard was a field of snow with a lake covered in shimmering ice. She leaned against the doorjamb, cradling her warm coffee mug in her hands as she watched the snow fall. Another few inches had accumulated overnight, and the scene before her was like a winter wonderland. Everything was blanketed in snow, giving magical shapes to what might have been a farm implement lying in the grass, but was now a polar bear curled in slumber. White caps of snow on the tops of fence posts looked like frosting on cupcakes, and the branches of the trees were laden with glittering white icing.
The air was hushed, the only sound the far-off mournful bawl of a cow, and Chloe shivered as a gust of wind blew across her bare legs. Watson ran back into the house, and she followed, shutting the door behind him. Spying one of Colt’s sweatshirts hanging by the door, she wrapped it around her shoulders, imagining it were his arms instead of his jacket.
Her imagination was really running wild this morning. Seeing cupcakes and polar bears in the snow, pretending she was being hugged by Colt instead of only wearing his clothes. That cow she heard was more likely bawling for food than because of any kind of mournful state. What would a cow have to be sad about anyway? She thought of the hamburger she’d had for lunch earlier that week. Okay, maybe there was something to be upset about, but the cow didn’t know that.
Chloe wandered back into Colt’s bedroom, resisting the urge to snoop through his drawers. The bathroom of the master suite was huge with double sinks, a separate shower, and a giant corner bathtub. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she gasped. Thank goodness Colt hadn’t been in the kitchen when she’d wandered out to find coffee. Her smudged mascara-rimmed eyes, combined with a curly mess of crazy bedhead, would have sent the guy running for the hills, or into convulsive laughter. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
The shower, with its multiple jets, was tempting, but her body was sore and stiff from her run-in with Rank, and a hot soak in the tub seemed just the thing to remedy her aching muscles. She started the hot water, and even though she hated to take them off, pulled Colt’s clothes from her body. Holding up her arm, she winced at the purple bruises in the shape of Rank’s hand. She tilted her head to the side and checked her neck. The slight abrasion from Maddie was almost gone.
She ran a hairbrush through her hair, then pulled it up into a messy bun on top of her head. Rummaging through her bag, she found her earbuds and tucked them into her ears. She scrolled to the most relaxing playlist on her phone, and the sultry strains of a Norah Jones song filled her ears as she stowed her phone on a towel and stepped gingerly into the tub.
A bottle of shower gel sat on the edge of the tub, and she squirted some into the water rushing from the faucet. The scent of something woodsy and masculine filled the steamy air as she settled into the bubbly water.
* * *
It took Colt longer than he’d planned to help Mason repair the stable, and he still needed to run a couple bales of hay out to the cattle in the south pasture, but he’d been worried about Chloe and thought he’d stop at the cabin to see if she was okay and if she wanted to ride along with him.
Watson met him at the door, but there was no sign of Chloe in the living room. Two of the muffins were missing, but the counter didn’t hold even one stray crumb. “Hello,” he called. “Chloe?”
He walked down the hall and could see the empty bed through the doorway. No sounds of running water, so she couldn’t be in the shower. His heart pounded against his chest as he imagined scenarios where Rank had shown up and tak
en her, or worse. “Chloe?” he called again, now rushing down the hall, poking his head into the door of his office, into the mudroom, then into the bedroom. He’d made it a few steps into the bedroom, just to where the double doors opened into the master bath, when he saw her—soaking in the tub.
Not kidnapped, not attacked, no run-in with a crazy dude, just her, neck-deep in a bathtub full of bubbles. Completely naked. Yeah, dude. That’s how most people bathe.
Her head was resting on the edge of the tub, her eyes closed, her hair a sexy, curly mop on her head. An earbud cord snaked from her ears. No wonder she couldn’t hear him calling for her.
Colt swallowed as he drank in the sight of her: her bare shoulders, her slender neck, the glistening length of legs that rose from the water as she rested her feet on the other end of the tub. Glittery pink polish flashed on her toes as she tapped them in time to whatever music played in her ears. A band of bubbles hugged the creamy skin of the tops of her breasts, but the suds had thinned in other places, just enough to give him glimpses of bare skin. What he couldn’t see, he knew was there, and his imagination filled in the rest.
As much as he wanted to stand there—hell, he wanted to climb into the tub with her—he knew he should leave. He took a step back, slowly so he didn’t disturb her. She never even had to know he’d been here. His foot landed on the dog’s paw, and Watson let out a yelp.
Chloe’s eyes popped open and grew wide as she saw him. She rose up in alarm, the earbuds popping out of her ears, then ducked back into the water, sending a spray of soapy water over the edge of the tub. The water hit the floor with a splash, but Colt didn’t even notice.
He was too busy looking at her, dazed by the sight of her bare breasts as she’d risen out of the water. It was just for a moment, but the image of the soapy bubbles clinging to her skin and sliding down to rest on the pink nub of her nipple had his jeans tightening and heat shooting up his spine.
He gulped, trying to swallow, his mouth suddenly as dry as cotton. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I got scared when I couldn’t find you. I didn’t mean to…”
“No, I’m sorry. You weren’t here, and a hot bath sounded so good.” She sank lower under the water, trying to cover herself with her hands.
“It’s totally fine. I’m glad you did…are…using the tub.”
“Do you think you could hand me that towel?” She raised just her finger out of the water and pointed to the towel.
“Yeah, sure.” Geez, dude, get a grip. It’s not like she was the first naked woman he’d ever seen. Although she was the first naked woman to be in his bathtub—and the woman he’d been fantasizing about seeing naked for the last few weeks. And now here she was, in all her glory, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it except hand her a towel.
He passed her the towel, then turned his back. He should leave, he knew he should, but he couldn’t get his feet to move.
He heard the splash of water as she stood and stepped out of the tub. His eyes cut to the big mirror on the wall just in time to catch a quick glimpse of her wet, glistening body before she wrapped the towel around herself.
“You can turn around now,” she said, her voice timid and soft.
He slowly pivoted until he faced her again. It felt like something was happening here, and he didn’t want to ruin this chance. He opened his mouth to say something, anything. I like you. You’re beautiful. You have a great smile. I think you’re funny. Maybe best not to mention her sense of humor while she was standing practically naked in front of him.
Before Colt could think of the best thing to say to dazzle her with his wit and charm, his eyes fell on the top half of her arm and the row of purple bruises there. “Holy shit.” He crossed the bathroom and gingerly lifted her arm to examine the marks. Flares of rage sparked through him, and he wanted to kill Rank Johnson. “I will never let that bastard put his hands on you again,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I’m okay. They don’t hurt that bad. And it could have been worse. Much worse.”
She was right. Rank was as mean as they came, and she was lucky he hadn’t done worse to her or the kids. “He shouldn’t have touched you at all.”
“I know,” she whispered.
The scent of her skin surrounded him, and he was caught between wanting to wrap her in a blanket to protect her and wanting to pick her up and carry her to his bed. At this point, either option would work for him.
He lifted his hand, raising it to cup the side of her face. Tendrils of her hair tickled the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
She shook her head, just the slightest movement. Then she placed her hand on top of his and leaned her cheek into his palm. “I’m not. If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here with you now.”
This woman was going to flat-out kill him. He ached for her clear to the marrow of his bones. He leaned in, fully intent on capturing that pretty little mouth in a kiss, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He pulled back, shaking his head. “I like you, Chloe, but…”
Her face fell. Colt saw it and knew instantly that he’d blown it. Her shoulders shrank in, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to cover the towel. “But not like that,” she finished for him. “I know. I get it.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think you do. I do like you, exactly like that. You’re all I’ve thought about for the past several months. And now you’re finally here, standing right in front of me, and I can’t do a damn thing.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked like she didn’t know if she should stay still or run—like a dang deer caught in the headlights. A beautiful deer. He knew he was screwing this up. Of all the ways he’d imagined this moment would go, this hadn’t been one of them. He had to do something to save himself. As his dad used to say, it was time to fish or cut bait.
“Chloe, just listen. It’s not that I don’t want to…that I don’t want you. I do. And it’s killing me to say this, because I want you so bad, it freaking hurts. I want to kiss you and touch you. I want to take you to my bed and spend the whole day exploring every inch of your gorgeous body.” He let out a breath, his brows drawn together as if saying the words actually pained him. “But you’ve just been through this whole traumatic ordeal, and I want to give you time to heal. Someone hurt you, and I don’t want to be a jerk by not giving you the space you need. The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. And I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
* * *
Chloe stood perfectly still, as if her feet were glued to the tile floor. A cool drop of water dripped from a tendril of her hair and trickled down the front of her neck and into the terry cloth of the towel. Her skin was so hot that she wouldn’t have been surprised if the drop had evaporated into steam.
She tried to take in everything Colt had just said. She wasn’t sure she’d heard it all over the rushing in her ears that sounded after he’d said he liked her exactly like that and had been thinking about her for months. Then why had he pulled away when she’d kissed him at the rink? Why hadn’t he kissed her back?
Oh, for flint’s sake, what the French toast was she doing wasting time analyzing what happened a few days ago? It didn’t matter now. What mattered were the crystal-blue intensity of Colt’s eyes and the passion behind his words. He’d said he wanted her, said he liked her.
His words touched her, and she could appreciate the sentiment, and the chivalry, behind them. But she wasn’t a victim. She wasn’t a poor, helpless woman who needed space. A flaming-hot cowboy had just told her that he wanted to take her to his bed and explore her body. That was what she needed. Not space, not coddling. Despite the chill of the wet towel, her body was on fire and she wanted him, needed him.
Something inside her snapped, the deep part of her that had been fantasizing about this moment. The part that had been dreaming this could come true. And she knew in her heart this
was the moment she’d been waiting for—her chance to risk something, to be daring and fearless. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted Colt James, and this was her chance to grab him. No guts, no glory.
I can do this. I just need to pretend to be someone else. Someone who is brave and daring.
Her eye caught the swish of Agatha’s tail from where she lay next to the vanity, and Chloe knew that was the answer. She needed to think like a cat. Cats were bold and didn’t care what other people thought. They took what they wanted; they were adventurous and playful. She wrenched up her inner feline, brought her to life, and steeled herself to play.
I am woman, hear me roar. Or at least meow very courageously.
She reached for the knot securing the towel around her chest as she raised her chin and offered him her most seductive stare. “I like you too. And I love that you don’t want to push me, that you want to give me space, but I don’t need space. I need you. And I want you to take advantage of me. Right now.” She inhaled a breath as she took a step back and released the towel, letting it drop to the floor.
Chapter 14
Holy flaming-hot Cheetos. What did she just do?
Chloe had never done anything so bold in all her life. What if he rejected her now? The light in here was too bright—every imperfection was on display. What if he took one look at her body and sneered in disgust?
And he was looking. His gaze traveled over every inch of bared skin. But he wasn’t sneering. The look that glazed Colt’s eyes was more like admiration and pure hunger. She pushed her shoulders back, standing just the slightest bit taller.
Her nipples tightened and sent a zing of pleasure to the spot between her legs. She was standing utterly naked in front of him, baring both her body and her soul, and he wasn’t running or turning away. He took a step toward her. Anticipation, hot like the feel of the warm summer sun on her skin, coursed through her as her body yearned for his touch.
