Cowboy Strong (Cowboy Up Book 5)

by Allison Merritt

  When he pressed deep, she tightened her grip and began stroking him. As their tempo increased, their bodies moved in synchronized, but separate rhythm. Taylor’s hips lifted from the bed, Waylon’s thrust forward.

  With a grunt, he removed his finger from her and took her hand off him. “Not gonna last, baby.”

  She wasn’t either. She’d been deliciously close to the edge when he pulled out. Wiggling so that her body was entirely on the bed, she beckoned him with her finger. “Come here.”

  He climbed across the bed like a mountain lion and she was his prey. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

  “Condom?” Drunk, or not, she wasn’t crazy.

  “Yeah.” He opened his hand and showed her a packet. After he slipped it over his penis, he moved over her, the tip of his cock edging into her pussy. Impatient, she grabbed his hips and pulled him in deep.

  “In a hurry,” he murmured near her ear.

  “Make me come,” she ordered.

  “Just hold on for the ride.” He withdrew to the tip, then plunged in hard. Repeated.

  Within seconds, she matched him thrust-for-thrust. Sweat-slicked bodies strained together for mutual release. Taylor raked her nails across his back and ass as he pumped into her. The shocks building in her grew stronger with each drive of his cock until her entire body exploded into one long quake.

  From her toes to her fingers to the top of her head, she shook.

  Imploded.

  Moments later, he came, his body collapsed on top of hers, his breathing erratic.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Taylor woke alone.

  She stretched and yawned. Why had she slept so late?

  The memories of the night before rushed over her and she covered her mouth with her hand. She rolled over and covered her head with her pillow. Nausea rushed up her throat.

  She forced it down, swallowing hard and taking deep breaths through her nose. Damn, what had possessed her to drink so much? Kahlua and coffee seemed so harmless. Until you had six, or seven. Maybe eight.

  When the sick feeling passed, she took the pillow off her face and rolled to her back. What in the hell had she done?

  A hookup.

  She’d had a one-night-stand with a cowboy. A virtual stranger. God. She’d never done something so impulsive in her life. Her friends had, but sleeping with someone, then never seeing them again, had never been her deal.

  Explaining why she’d broken her own rule last night would take some doing—especially to herself. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t. It was that simple. She’d let pure, unadulterated lust take over.

  Stupid, stupid.

  With a groan, she tossed the covers back and sat up. Her head felt like a pumpkin someone had hit with a hammer. She held her head with both hands. Adding insult to injury, Waylon had slipped out without even a goodbye. Last night hadn’t been about flowers and promises, but a simple ‘see ya’ would’ve been nice.

  She stove off those thoughts. She’d known what she’d been getting into when she went to bed with a man she didn’t know well. With another groan, she stumbled to the shower. After a few minutes under scalding hot water, she felt somewhat human.

  With her hair semi-dry and slipping into a robe, she made her way to the kitchen.

  Coffee?

  Was that scent leftover from last night?

  Her stomach churned and she fought down the sick feeling. She wanted tea and toast. Not coffee. But the overwhelming scent filled her senses. She could almost taste it.

  When she turned the corner, she stifled a scream.

  Waylon sat at her kitchen table eyeing her over a mug like he belonged there. He hadn’t vanished with the sunrise, after all. Shirtless, with morning stubble that begged for her hand. He grinned. “Morning, sunshine.”

  “What are you doing here?” she managed.

  He lifted the cup. “Drinking coffee.”

  “I thought you left,” she said inanely.

  “I don’t leave a woman without saying goodbye,” he said. “And you were sleeping pretty hard.”

  “Oh.” She pulled the belt tighter on her robe. “Well, good.”

  “Coffee?” He again lifted the cup.

  Her stomach churned. “God, no. Maybe never again.”

  His laughter washed over her. “We had a bit.”

  “A bit? We drank gallons.” She moved to the fridge and grabbed a bottled water, then retrieved tea from a canister. After she put the water and tea bag in the microwave, she placed whole grain bread in the toaster and watched it cook. Anything to avoid Waylon’s gaze. “Would you like toast?”

  “Rather have bacon and eggs. I know you don’t have any. I checked your fridge. Damn, girl, what do you eat? All I saw in there was lettuce and some weird cheese.”

  With her back still toward him, she mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “How about breakfast in town?”

  Her aching head tried to grasp his words. Was he asking her out? “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to.”

  The toast popped up and she held it as she considered his offer. “I thought you were headed back to Montana this morning.”

  He shrugged one bare shoulder. “I thought I’d stick around a while.”

  “Why?” Her voice cracked.

  “I’d like to get to know you better,” he said. “It’s hard to do that from Montana.”

  She turned around, holding her toast. “What makes you think I want that?”

  His smile vanished and he pushed away from her table. “My mistake.

  As he headed for the door, a million thoughts tore through her aching head. But the most prevalent one was he was leaving and she wouldn’t see him again. “Wait.”

  He paused and looked over his shoulder.

  “I’d like breakfast. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

  His grin came back. “Deal.”

  Her knees weakened. “Be right back.”

  ~*~

  By the time she returned, Waylon had showered and shaved, using her spare bathroom. He wore a blue western shirt and pressed Wranglers with a big belt buckle. She blushed when he caught her staring at it.

  “Won it when I was a little kid,” he said.

  “You rodeo?” She picked up her Coach bag.

  “Not anymore. Not enough hours in the day to be good at it and keep the ranch running, too.” He opened the door and ushered her through.

  “Thank you.”

  The drive to the Mineshaft took only a few minutes. Waylon parked in front and came around to open her door. Taylor thanked him, then led the way into the café. As usual, it was bustling on a Sunday morning.

  She nodded and said hi to a few people as they made their way to an empty booth. To her surprise, Waylon sat next to her, not across from her. He picked up a menu. “What’s good?”

  “Everything,” she said. “I usually have an omelet.”

  “You eat eggs?” Laughter filled his voice.

  “Egg whites.”

  He did chuckle then. “You’d starve in camp.”

  “I’d suffer for the opportunity,” she shot back.

  “No ladies allowed.” He made a sad face.

  “Why not?” She turned to glare at him.

  “Because it’s man time. Sorta like girls’ night out. We talk dirty, don’t shave or bathe. Nothing ladies want any part of.” His grin melted her ire.

  “Sounds divine.” Her tone was dry.

  “It’s fantastic,” he declared. “Best week of the year.”

  “My best week of the year is when my friends meet in Tahiti for fun in the sun,” she told him.

  “Never been,” he said. “Nice place though?”

  “Wonderful,” she said. “I can’t wait to go this year.”

  “Will took Lily to Hawaii. I’ve been there a time or two. I like it,” he said.

  A flash akin to jealousy warped through her. Who had he taken to the island paradise? None of her business. But it bothered her noneth
eless. “You have? I’ve also been there. For a shoot.”

  “Even Montana cowboys get out now and then.” Amusement filled his voice.

  The waitress appeared with menus before she could reply. As she scanned the familiar items, her thoughts wandered to visualizing Waylon in a pair of swim trunks. She’d like to photograph him coming out of the surf, trunks low on his hips…

  “Taylor?”

  She realized he’d spoken. “Um, yes?”

  “You drifted away there for a minute.” He motioned toward the waitress. “She asked you what you want to eat.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Taylor smiled at the waitress. “Egg white and cheese omelet, please.”

  “Hash browns and toast?”

  “Yes, please. Wheat.”

  “Got it.” The waitress flashed a smile at Waylon. “And for you?”

  “The Gold Miner.” He mentioned the biggest breakfast on the menu. “Wheat toast, and plenty of black coffee, too.”

  Taylor held in a groan. God, how could he even think about more coffee? “Just water for me. Lemon, too, if you would.”

  “Of course.” The waitress picked up the menus, and gave one last lingering look at Waylon before vanishing into the kitchen.

  Taylor fiddled with the salt shaker. She suddenly didn’t know what to say to the man who’d seen her naked and screaming out his name last night.

  “It was a nice wedding,” she finally said.

  “Yes,” he said. “Will’s a lucky guy.”

  “They’re both fortunate.” She thought of all the men she’d dated. Not one of them had been someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Until now. She dropped the shaker with a thud. What the hell was she thinking? One night of sex, no matter how great, didn’t make a relationship, and especially not a lasting one.

  ~*~

  Every time Will’s leg bumped into Taylor’s, his dick jumped. They’d made love half the night; he shouldn’t have anything left, but he wanted her again. She was stunningly beautiful, no doubt, but his interest in her went well beyond her looks. He should have headed home today, along with most of the rest of his family, but at first light he’d called his dad to say he was spending a few more days here. The old man hadn’t been happy, but agreed as long as Waylon was home in time for roundup at the end of the month.

  He wouldn’t miss the fall gather for anything, but he wanted to get to know this woman better. They’d taken off at sex, now they had to go backwards and get acquainted. He couldn’t wait to know her better. What she liked, hated and everything in between.

  Some might say he was still recovering from Logan’s sudden decision to leave Montana this past June, but he knew better. They hadn’t parted on bad terms. She was his best friend, and always would be. But they’d wanted different things. She wanted to see the world before settling down in Montana.

  He didn’t need to see the world to know he was home.

  Something he and Taylor had in common. Well, not the see the world part. She’d probably been to places he’d never even heard of. But, she was home and planned to stay here. The thought depressed him. They lived two states apart. Long distance relationships were impossible. If they worked, he and Logan might still be together.

  The waitress appeared with their meals and placed them in front of them. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thanks.” Taylor’s voice was cool.

  He shot the gal a friendly smile. “We’re good.”

  She smiled back. “I’ll warm your coffee in a little bit.”

  As she walked away, Taylor muttered, “She’d like to warm a lot more than your coffee.”

  He bumped her elbow with his. “Don’t be jealous, darlin’. You’re the only girl I want to have breakfast with.”

  She looked at him. “Good to know that you don’t sleep with one girl, then flirt with another right in front of her.”

  “If someone does that, they’re an asshole.” His voice went frosty. “I was raised right and I know how to treat a lady.”

  “Then you’re one of the few good guys left.” Something painful flashed through her eyes before she masked it.

  He considered her words. He supposed he was a good guy. He’d never cheated on Logan, hadn’t ever given her reason not to trust him. “Just livin’ the cowboy code.”

  She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Are all cowboys as honorable?”

  He shrugged. “My brothers are. My cousins. My friends are all decent guys. Can’t speak for anyone else.”

  “That’s a lot. I wish more men followed your cowboy code.” She put the food in her mouth and chewed.

  “Sounds like you’ve known some jerks,” he said.

  “A few.” She studied her plate.

  She seemed so sad. He never wanted her to look that way over something he did. His protective instincts went into overdrive and he suddenly wanted to punch someone. “Well, I’m not one of them.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.” Her soft voice filled him with happiness.

  “By the way, I’m not the only Wainwright boy who stayed in Lonesome Valley,” he said. “Wade is hanging around, too.”

  “Why?”

  “For a lady named Marin Deni,” he said. “Met her last night.”

  “Really? Marin’s a nice person. I don’t know her well, but I like her,” Taylor said. “Doesn’t she live in your grandmother’s house?”

  “She does,” he confirmed. “But I suspect not for long if Wade has his way.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Uh-huh. He’s fallen head over boots for Miss Marin.” Waylon grinned at her shocked expression.

  “So soon?”

  “It happens.”

  “Not very often,” she said. “Because people put their best face forward. But everyone has their faults.”

  Ignoring that, he finished his breakfast and patted his stomach. “I feel better. Dinner was a long time ago.”

  She stared at her own empty plate. “I’ll have to work off all this food somehow.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders. “I have an idea, or two.”

  She stiffened. “I’m not drunk today.”

  He chuckled. “All the better.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fall had started showing around Lonesome Valley. A few of the aspens had begun to change colors, standing in sharp contrast to the dark green pines. But the apple grove they stood under was still vibrant green.

  Waylon had suggested they help his brother and his girlfriend harvest apples. Taylor had agreed. It sounded like fun and would help Marin, too. The other woman had never shared her story with Taylor, but she’d heard through the grapevine that Marin had left an abusive man and ended up in Lonesome Valley, living in Waylon’s grandmother’s house. She made a living by selling the produce grown on the farm. There was a small apple orchard she wanted to harvest before fall.

  Waylon’s older brother Wade wasn’t as dark as Waylon, but very attractive. His smile was friendly, but his gaze rarely left Marin. It was clear he was smitten with the pretty brunette.

  In the orchard, the foursome stood near an ATV with a trailer attached to it. A big wooden box on the trailer waited for apples. Each of them had a white canvas bag slung around their neck.

  Marin looked between them with a bright smile. “Are we set?”

  “Ready,” Wade said.

  “Born ready,” Waylon echoed.

  Taylor nodded. “Yes.”

  The men retrieved a ladder from the trailer and leaned it against one of the trees. Marin climbed it and began picking apples, placing them in the bag around her neck. Wade followed her a few steps up the ladder and reached for lower hanging fruit.

  “What do we do?” Taylor asked Waylon.

  “Pick the lower fruit, I guess.” He motioned toward the heavy branches loaded with apples. “We can reach those.”

  Together, they moved toward the trees and began picking fruit. It didn’t take long to fill the canvas bag around her n
eck, and Taylor dumped the apples into the wooden box then went back for more.

  The scent of fall filled the air. Damp earth, leaves and some of the fruit rotting on the ground. Sun filtered through the tree branches, the light teasing them with warmth.

  Taylor glanced at Waylon. “Have you done this before?”

  “Once. We all came down to help my grandparents when their help couldn’t make it for some reason,” he said. “It was fun.”

  “I’m having a good time,” she told him.

  He stopped picking to look at her. “Me, too.”

  Who would have thought harvesting apples would be fun? It wasn’t something Taylor had ever pictured herself doing, but being with Waylon was exciting. He wore a smile, acting like he was having the time of his life doing hard labor.

  “Cider sounds good.” Taylor reached for a bright red fruit.

  “I’ll make some,” Marin called. “I have a recipe.”

  “Sounds great,” Wade told her. “Along with a fire, a blanket and music.”

  The scene he painted sounded perfect. So romantic. Taylor risked a glance at Waylon. He met and held her gaze. There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes. For a moment, they were the only two people in the world. Taylor’s body dampened and she forced herself to look away before she embarrassed herself.

  They worked steadily until early afternoon, when Waylon announced he was starving. Despite her big breakfast, Taylor was hungry, too. The exercise and fresh air worked up her appetite.

  “Let’s go to the house,” Marin said. “I have chicken and noodles in the crockpot.”

  Wade took Marin’s hand and they walked together, leading the way.

  When Waylon reached for her hand, Taylor shot him a surprised glance. They weren’t involved. But, she took his hand, warmth spreading through her at the contact.

  They settled around the kitchen table for Marin’s chicken and dumplings. The homemade meal was absolutely delicious.

  Taylor put down her spoon. “What will you do with all the apples we’re picking?”

  “Sell some at my fruit stand. Make cider and sell it. Make pies and cobblers.” Marin smiled at Wade. “He’s requested some of my desserts.”