Cowgirls Don't Cry

by Silver James

  Chance broke the kiss to gasp for breath and leaned his forehead against hers. “Baby, you are so hot but dammit, I want to make love to you in a bed.”

  She froze. “What?”

  Well, hell. He was definitely thinking with the wrong head at the moment. “Yeah. Our first time. I want it to be right. I’d take you standing here just like this, but I want to take it slow. I want to watch you come apart in my arms before I sink in. I want to touch you and kiss you and find out just how many times I can make you come before you beg me to stop.”

  Six

  What the heck was she doing? Cass couldn’t think straight and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Her wet bra chafed her sensitized nipples but instead of irritating, the sensation sent waves directly to the area of her body presently rubbing against Chance’s fly. He was as turned on as she was, a definite plus, and the things he was saying left her panting. Some part of her consciousness didn’t trust him, but her libido didn’t care. He was sexy and hot for her. His body promised things to hers, and waiting was killing her. She’d never been known for her patience.

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Talkin—mmmmmm.”

  His mouth took her breath away and cut off any more talking on her part, too. Chance pressed closer, his erection rubbing against her as he pushed her a little higher on the wall to change the angle. If they’d been naked, she’d be riding him hard and fast. Her tongue pushed his aside and thrust into his mouth. He gripped her head with gentle hands and dragged his mouth from hers only to trail his tongue down her neck and across her collarbone.

  Cass sighed and arched her head back. She rested it against the wood behind her, leaving her neck exposed to his attentions. With a little space between them now, one of his hands cupped her. She inhaled sharply, which pushed her breast deeper into his palm. He groaned, and she tightened her legs around his waist, all but sealing them together.

  “Want to taste you.” His words burst out in puffs of his breath. “Want to touch you.”

  “Talking. You’re talking again.”

  “I think there should be a whole lot more talkin’ goin’ on and a whole lot less touchin’.”

  Mortified, she gasped and stared over Chance’s shoulder. Boots stood in the barn doorway, hands on his hips, his face perfectly blank. Chance hunched against her, and she tapped him on the shoulder. “Yo, dude...company?” She cut her eyes to indicate they’d been caught.

  Chance glanced over his shoulder and flashed a wicked grin. “He doesn’t have a shotgun, so I think we’re safe.”

  She thumped him on the shoulder. “Put me down, Chance.”

  “You’re the one with your legs wrapped around my waist, darlin’.”

  She felt heat rise up her chest and flood her face. With her hands on his shoulders for leverage, she unhooked her ankles and dropped first one foot then the other to the floor. Her knees threatened to buckle but with a gallant gesture, Chance supported her until she got her bearings. Dizzy, out of breath and blushing furiously, she managed to face Boots from behind Chance’s brawny frame.

  “Busted, Uncle Boots. I...sort of figured you wouldn’t be back until after the storm.”

  “Storm’s been over awhile, Cassidy.” His expression didn’t change—remaining stony with a spark of anger lighting his eyes.

  “I got a little wet getting the horses in. Chance offered me his shirt.” Of course, his shirt was on the floor, along with hers. That elicited a quirked brow from the older man. She sucked in a deep breath and reached for her inner adult. “If you don’t mind, Uncle Boots, we’ll see you up at the house in a few minutes.”

  Boots glanced at his watch, stared at her then favored Chance with a scowl. “Five minutes or I’m coming back. With Winnie.”

  As the old man exited the barn, Chance cut his eyes to her. “Winnie?” His whisper raised goose bumps on her rapidly chilling flesh.

  “Winnie is his Winchester shotgun.”

  “We’ll be right behind you, sir.”

  A giggle burbled up from nowhere at Chance’s quick reply, and she hissed out, “It’s not like he’ll make you marry me or anything.”

  The man in front of her stilled. Completely, totally, not-even-breathing stilled. As quick as a snake, his head whipped around, and his eyes bored into hers. She choked off another giggle and stared back, wide-eyed and startled.

  “That’s a joke, Chance.” She reached for him but seeing his expression, her hands plummeted to her sides like rocks.

  “Marrying me would be a joke?”

  Cass pressed back against the wall. This was a side of him she’d never guess at, and one that scared her just a little. This was a man used to getting everything he wanted. “No.” Her brain whirled as she searched for the words to get her out of this. Where had this intensity come from? Why did he look both angry and hurt? They hadn’t even gone on a date yet—making out in the barn did not count.

  “Shotgun wedding, Chance. That’s the joke. Us getting married? You have to admit that’s a bit far-fetched. We just met. And besides, just because I took a leave of absence from my job doesn’t mean that I’m not going back to Chicago once I get the ranch squared away.”

  He trapped her with his hands braced against the wall on either side of her head. “What’s that mean?”

  “What do you think it means? I live in Chicago, Chance. I have a good job there. Friends. A life that’s not here on a ranch. I plan to sell Dad’s cattle, settle his debts and sell this place if I can so I can take care of Boots. And Buddy. Maybe a couple of the horses. Find a couple of acres where they’ll be happy.” She lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “I’m not a cowgirl.”

  “So...going out with me is basically a one-night stand for you?”

  She furrowed her brow as he tossed her own words back in her face. His attitude totally confused her. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Chance. Yeah, we generate some heat, but it’s just sex.” She stared at him, trying to read his expression. “Isn’t it? We don’t know each other well enough for it to be anything else.”

  He pressed closer, crowding her, and she almost got dizzy from lack of oxygen. Cass inhaled sharply, ducked under his arm and slipped into the tack room. She emerged wearing a windbreaker and bent over to snag her T-shirt and his work shirt, which she tossed in his direction. “I’ll be ready at five if you still want to take me out. If you don’t show up, I’ll understand.”

  With as much dignity as she could muster, she pivoted and marched to the door. Luckily, Boots had left it open, and she managed to step outside without tripping. The storm was gone, the black, roiling clouds with jagged lightning pushing on to the east, leaving wet grass and mud behind. Buddy dashed past her and raced to the house, leaving her to follow a bit more sedately in his path despite the fact she wanted to run.

  When she arrived at the house, her boots clumped on the wooden steps and across the porch. The porch door banged behind her. She could hear Boots rummaging in the kitchen. She headed straight to her room. A hot shower and dry clothes would give her perspective on things. She hoped. Because at the moment, she was completely clueless as to what had just happened.

  * * *

  Chance watched Cassie walk away. What the hell had come over him? He was not the possessive type, and a one-night stand was his hookup of choice. No ties, no needy females. So how had he gone from cocky cowboy to the one clinging and needing reassurance of the relationship? As Cass said, what relationship? Dammit all to hell. He needed to get her into his bed so he could get her out of his system. Plain and simple.

  Only it wasn’t. Neither plain, nor simple. The time had come for him to think about work, not the sexy woman driving him crazy. Besides, what did it matter? Cassie was going back to Chicago. She didn’t want to stay here. She didn’t want to be with hi
m.

  He rubbed the spot over his chest as he climbed into his truck. He didn’t start it right away, but instead sat and stared at the window he figured was Cassie’s bedroom. The place wasn’t big. Hell, his condo had more square footage than the farm house. The furniture was old, dilapidated, lived in. Loved.

  And there was his answer. That house was filled with love. A kind of love he and his brothers had missed out on growing up. Cassie was three when she lost her mother, but her daddy had loved her. And her Uncle Boots. For the first time in his life, Chance was jealous. It was an emotion that would take some getting used to.

  He started the truck, backed up until he had room to turn around and headed toward the main road. He had a lot to think about.

  * * *

  Cassie waited until she heard Chance drive away before she kicked off her boots and peeled out of her wet jeans. The man was a player. She knew that with every feminine instinct she possessed. Serial daters. That’s what her best friend in Chicago called guys like him. Hopping from bed to bed. Their smart phone containing a contact folder simply labeled “Easy.” The last thing she needed or wanted was to hook up with an Oklahoma cowboy, even if he had a fine ass, gorgeous build and a face that could melt the South Pole. Cowboys wanted cowgirls, and she no longer fit that description.

  Standing in her bra and panties damp from more than rain, she turned a slow circle. Her room. Which hadn’t changed a bit since she left for college ten years before. Trophies and buckles littered the top of her dresser with a couple of framed photographs stuffed among them. In one, she stood next to Barney, her first horse. She barely reached the top of his front leg, despite the hat jammed on her head. She proudly held her first championship buckle, even though she hadn’t even been big enough to mount Barney without a boost at the time. In another, she sat behind her dad’s saddle, her arms around his waist. In a third, she posed with a saddle she’d won.

  A tap on her door sent her scrambling for her robe. She shoved her arms through the worn flannel sleeves and tied it at her waist. “C’mon in, Uncle Boots.”

  The door swung open, creaking a little. “We need to talk, baby girl.”

  Cass nodded. “Let me grab a shower first?”

  He nodded, turned and shuffled down the hall to the living room. She dashed to the bathroom. Though she would have preferred to stand there until the hot water tank emptied, she showered quickly and dressed in clean jeans and a fresh T-shirt. When she was ready, she went out to the living room and settled on the couch. Boots sat in his recliner looking uncomfortable. Cass wet her bottom lip with a nervous swipe of her tongue and felt way too much like a teenager caught making out.

  “You still planning on selling out?”

  Selling out? That sounded almost ugly, and disloyal—and not at all what she anticipated for a topic. “I’m not a rancher, Uncle Boots. I need to sell the place to pay Daddy’s debts. And to give you a cushion so you can find a little place.”

  “This ain’t about me, Cassidy. This is about you. About the heritage your daddy left for you. About who you are deep down.”

  She clasped her hands together and shoved them between her knees as she leaned forward. Staring at her bare toes, she gathered her thoughts. “I’m not a cowgirl, Uncle Boots. Haven’t been since I left for college.”

  “Then why did you go round up the horses when the storm hit?”

  “Because it needed doing.”

  “Would a city girl have gotten soakin’ wet to move them into the barn?”

  “Just because I knew what was the right thing to do doesn’t mean I want to run this ranch.”

  Boots leaned back and stared out the front window. “Ben went lookin’ for a colt. A very special colt. For you.” He held up his hand when she started to speak, and his words cut through any argument she might offer. “Just hush up and listen, Cassidy.” His eyes returned to the scenery outside. The silence stretching between them wasn’t comfortable, but Cass remained quiet.

  “Your daddy knew you didn’t want to stay here. He hoped you would, but he knew deep down that you had to go off and see the world. He did the same thing.” He glanced in her direction. “He lived on the road for a good many years. And then he met your momma. She put down roots here. Deep ones. Then you came along. So he settled down. He built this place fence post by fence post. At one time, Morgan-Baxter Rodeo Company supplied stock for all the big rodeos. Calgary. National Finals. Las Vegas. Denver. We even made it to Madison Square Garden one year. Your daddy was a name, honey. But he didn’t want you to be a cowgirl.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “Well, you damn sure could have fooled me!”

  Boots chuckled softly. “He wanted more for you. He wanted you to be a rancher. Or a trainer. Or a breeder. Even as a kid, you had an uncanny sense about horses, baby girl. But at the same time, he knew you had the same wanderlust in your blood he did. So he waited for you to get it out of your system. And then he found that colt. Legend’s Double Rainbow.”

  Memory flared—her dad driving Cass in his truck as he explained her mom wasn’t coming home and a double rainbow arching across the sky in front of them. She stared at the old man, confused. “He bought this stud colt just because of his name?”

  Boots laughed. At her. “Honey, you know your daddy better than that. That little fella has a pedigree going all the way back to Leo.” A sly look crossed his face.

  She blinked, her mind skipping everything but the name Leo. “Wait...Leo? As in the foundation stallion?”

  He nodded. “Yep. He found a colt with a bloodline that traces straight back to Leo.”

  “Holy cow!” Leo was a legendary quarter horse stud. He had produced racehorses, the finest performance horses and more than a few rodeo champs along the way. She leaned back, possibilities whirling through her mind despite her intentions. No. She had to think about Chicago. Her life was in Chicago. Not here on some dirt-road ranch. Wasn’t it?

  Her brow furrowed in consternation as another thought intruded. She leaned forward. “How the hell did he pay for the colt? I...I can’t even imagine how much he’s worth!”

  “Your daddy was a born horse trader, baby girl.”

  She processed that statement, her chest tight with dread. She didn’t want to, but she asked, “What did he do?”

  “Your daddy had one of the finest collections of rodeo memorabilia anywhere outside of the Western Heritage Museum. Turns out Doc’s former owner is a collector.”

  “Wait. Doc?”

  Boots nodded. “The colt. They call him Doc for short.”

  She had to think about that a minute before the initials DR—for Double Rainbow—occurred to her. “Oh! Sorry. I’m slow. I’m still...Daddy had a collection?”

  He laughed. “Neither of us would have called it that, but the attic and the loft in the barn were filled to the rafters with stuff. Your daddy was a pack rat. He never threw anything away. This ol’ boy drove all the way down from Illinois towin’ a big ol’ trailer with the colt inside. He sorted all the boxes, loaded up his trailer and left Doc in trade. Ben figured it was a good deal.” His eyes misted. “I think he knew he was dyin’ but wasn’t ready to surrender to the damn cancer. Ben probably figured neither of us would want to sort all that stuff.”

  Boots stared out the window. He didn’t look at her as he continued. “Your daddy wanted to leave you something, baby girl. A legacy. A way to find your own roots, and he hoped you’d put those roots down here.”

  Cass sucked in a long breath and held it a moment to ease the tightness in her chest. It didn’t help. Despite the burning tears filling her eyes, she managed to choke out the words. “I didn’t know how bad he was, Uncle Boots. I should have come sooner.”

  “He didn’t want you to know, hon. He even hid it from me for a long time. But gettin’ ahold that little stud was his final gift to you. It’s up to you, Cass
idy Anne. What are you going to do with it?” The old man’s eyes twinkled as winked at her. “And what are you gonna do about that young buck sniffin’ around you in the barn?”

  Seven

  Chance pulled up in the yard and parked. He sat for a moment, feeling far too much like a high school boy on his first date. The fact they’d been caught all but in flagrante delicto in the barn that afternoon didn’t bother him. But the look Boots had given him did. The old man knew who he was, but Chance could not figure out why he hadn’t told Cass. He needed to have a little chat with Boots Thomas.

  His cell phone chimed, and he glanced at the caller ID. Barron Security—Cash calling from the office. He answered with a blunt, “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been following up on the paper trail on that colt the old man wants.”

  Chance rubbed his forehead. He’d all but forgotten about the colt between his efforts to dodge filing the lawsuit to foreclose on the ranch and reining in his wayward thoughts about the woman he was supposed to ruin. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

  “You’re sitting at Ben Morgan’s place, aren’t you?”

  “Dammit, Cash. Are you tracking me?”

  “What do you think? Gotta love built-in GPS on the smartphones.”

  Grimacing at the virtual leash, Chance steered the conversation back the subject. “What about the colt?”

  “Registration papers just popped up with the AQHA. Ownership’s been transferred. To Cassidy Morgan. Makes me wonder how a horse the old man had in his sights suddenly pops up in her name, and that makes me curious about her interest in you, bro.”

  Chance considered the possibilities. He’d seen her face in the barn when Boots showed her the colt. She’d seemed surprised. If he ever had to play cards with someone, he wanted it to be Cass. She had the worst poker face in the world. Besides, how would she or her father know that Cyrus was after the same horse? The facts just didn’t add up. Sure, women always had angles to get close to or take advantage of the Barron brothers. He didn’t believe Cassie was one of them.