Cowboy on My Mind

by R. C. Ryan

  He loved the fact that she could still blush like a schoolgirl, but taking pity on her, he changed the subject. “How did your morning go?”

  She shrugged, knowing he was asking about her father’s reaction to seeing him. Ben was too kind to put her on the spot by mentioning it aloud.

  She stared hard at the tabletop. “Now that I’m here with you, I can’t remember a thing about the morning, except Roscoe’s beautiful arch and gate.”

  “That was a special surprise. So now, let’s just enjoy our supper. And then there’s always”—he wiggled his brows like a movie villain—“dessert at your place.”

  Her smile was brighter than ever. “It’s all I could think about all day.”

  “Me too. And believe me, when I’m mucking stalls and riding into the high country to babysit a herd of ornery cattle, I’m grateful for any happy thoughts that come my way.”

  “You work so hard, Ben.”

  “No harder than any other rancher around here.”

  Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when Dolly set down glasses of ice water and their coffee and tea. Minutes later she returned with their dinner, and they both dug in.

  Ben moved a little dish in the center of the table. “I’ll let you taste my coleslaw if you give me one piece of your broccoli.”

  “You like veggies?”

  “I had no choice growing up. All those men sat around the table monitoring everything my brothers and I ate.” Ben laughed, remembering. “They were determined to teach us to eat healthy, after a childhood of being forced to hoard whatever food we could steal.”

  Rebecca looked absolutely horrified. “Your foster families didn’t feed you?”

  “Some did. After years apart, we started sharing stories of those times, and we discovered that we had similar experiences. Some of the families really tried, but after years of abuse, my brothers and I had turned into pretty nasty rebels. Fighting became a way of life, and most good people just can’t be bothered with that much disruption in their lives.”

  “Oh, Ben.” Rebecca laid a hand over his, her eyes moist.

  “Hey now.” He reached across the table to brush a tear from her cheek. “Let’s not rehash the past. Let’s just celebrate what we’ve found.”

  She closed her fingers over his wrist and met his steady gaze. “Right now, what we’ve found is so much better than anything I could have hoped for.”

  “Yeah. I agree. Our future’s looking a lot better than the past.”

  “Hey, you two.” Horton Duke, owner of the Hitching Post, paused beside their table. “Get a room.”

  Ben threw back his head and roared. “What are you doing here, Horton?”

  “Checking out the competition. Besides…” He leaned down to add in a whisper, “Dolly’s meat loaf is my weakness. Every time she makes it, I just have to stop by and sample it. But if you’re hoping for a cool longneck before heading home, stop by my place.”

  “Thanks, Horton. We’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Or, if you’re planning on a long, romantic night, I could always sell you a six-pack to go.”

  While Rebecca’s cheeks bloomed, Ben merely shared a laugh with the old man.

  When he was gone, Ben kept his voice low. “Judging by Horton’s remarks and from the looks we’re getting from the folks around us, I don’t think we can keep our feelings secret very long.” He paused a beat before asking, “Is that going to be a problem?”

  She couldn’t help the smile that put a light in her eyes. “It isn’t a problem for me if it isn’t a problem for you.”

  He released a slow breath. “Becca, if it were up to me, I’d be shouting the news from the rooftops.”

  They shared a laugh as they finished their meal.

  Dolly hurried over to take away their dishes. “In honor of the town’s Autumn Festival, I made pumpkin pies.”

  They nodded in unison.

  She gave a throaty laugh. “I figured that would get to you. Ice cream or whipped cream?”

  Ben winked at Rebecca. “Can we have both?”

  “You sure can.”

  Dolly hurried away and returned with two big slices of pumpkin pie frosted with a side of vanilla ice cream and topped with a mound of freshly whipped cream.

  Later, Ben caught Rebecca’s hand, and the two strolled out of the diner, calling good night to friends and neighbors.

  As they stepped out into the night air, Ben was aware of the way many of the patrons of the diner watched their progress with interest.

  “You realize that someone in your neighborhood will spot my truck in your driveway tonight. By morning, even more tongues will be wagging.”

  Rebecca settled herself into the passenger side and watched as he drove through the darkened streets. “Right now, I don’t mind if the whole world knows.”

  While Ben hung their jackets on a coat tree by the front door, Rebecca hurried to the kitchen. Minutes later she returned with two Champagne flutes.

  Ben gave her a slow, appraising smile. “Champagne?”

  “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. I think this qualifies.”

  “Oh, yeah. This qualifies.” He touched his glass to hers. “What will we drink to?”

  “To…” Her cheeks were flushed as she paused before saying, “Dreams coming true.”

  They sipped.

  She looked over. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Just staring at me.”

  “I can’t help it. Becca, every time I look at you, you take my breath away.”

  She dimpled. Uncomfortable beneath his steady look, she turned. “Is there anything you’d like?”

  “You know what I want.” He set aside the half-filled glass and put a hand on her arm. Just a touch, but it was enough to have her bobbling her glass and spilling the liquid over the rim.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “No harm.” He set her glass aside before taking a crisp handkerchief from his pocket and wiping her hand dry.

  Without a word he led her toward the bedroom. Standing beside the bed, he reached for the buttons of her shirt. His voice was low. Solemn. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

  He unbuttoned her blouse and slid it from her shoulders before reaching behind her to unfasten her lace bra. He unsnapped her jeans and slid them down over her hips before easing her to the edge of the bed. He knelt to remove her shoes, and then her jeans.

  He ran a hand along her calf to her thigh, then higher, until she gave a gasp of surprise.

  “Ben…”

  “Shh. Indulge me my fantasies. Let me pleasure you, Becca.”

  His touch was so gentle, all she could do was sigh as, with lips and tongue and fingertips, he took her high, then higher still, until all she could do was hold on as he took her up and over, until her entire body seemed to shatter into splinters of fire.

  When she thought there was nothing more she could possibly feel, he shed his clothes and joined her on the bed. Holding her as tenderly as a fragile flower, he entered her.

  Her eyes went wide as even more pleasure shot through her.

  “Oh, Ben.” She wrapped herself around him, moving with him, loving the feel of him, flesh to flesh, his heartbeat as out of control as hers.

  Suddenly, everything changed. One minute their movements were slow and measured. The next they felt a wildfire raging through their overheated systems, electrifying them as they raced into the heart of the blaze. By the time they’d come out the other side, their bodies were slick with sheen.

  They lay, breathing labored, heartbeats thundering.

  And as their world slowly settled, they clung together, feeling like the only survivors left in the universe.

  “What was your father’s reaction yesterday morning?”

  It was nearly dawn, and the two lovers had spent the most amazing night together, discovering the many secrets they had never shared with another.

  “I’m not sure what bothered him the most.
Seeing you driving me to work, or realizing your truck was parked in my driveway overnight. I think he was more concerned about what the neighbors would say than the fact that you and I spent the night together.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  She shot him a look of surprise.

  “If he’s willing to accept the fact that we’re together, maybe he can take the next logical step and consider letting go of his prejudices about me and my family.”

  “Ben, we’re talking about my father. He’s not the easiest man in the world to accept change.”

  “It’ll happen whether he’s ready or not.” Ben took her hand, measuring its size against his own. “I’d like your permission to talk to him.”

  She was already shaking her head. “I don’t know…”

  “I do. I owe him enough respect to tell him how I feel about his daughter.”

  She laughed and touched a finger to his lips. “Maybe you ought to let me in on how you feel.”

  He shot her a wicked smile. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, we’re in trouble. I’ve been in love with you from the first time I saw you. But when I carried you home after your prom—”

  She put a finger to his lips to halt his words. “That night is burned into my memory. First, the horror of what almost happened, and then you coming to my rescue. And then my father having you arrested, even though I kept telling him you were my hero, not the villain. And…” She looked away, ashamed even now. “I never had a chance to thank you.”

  “Becca, you were in shock. None of it was your fault.”

  “But my father…”

  “Went a little crazy when he realized what almost happened to his little girl. It’s old news now.” Ben gathered her close to whisper against her temple, “Right now, that’s all just a dim memory. All I can think about is loving you. And that’s why I need to talk to your father. This can’t wait.”

  “Oh, Ben.” She wrapped herself around him, loving the feel of all those muscles making her feel safe. Making her feel special. “I hope you’re prepared for fireworks.”

  He pressed a kiss to her throat. “I wouldn’t back down even if your father was holding a bazooka.”

  She absorbed a series of tremors along her spine. All he had to do was touch her, kiss her like this, and she was lost.

  “All right.” She sighed. “But for now, how about a little more…dessert.”

  And then there were no words as they slipped into that special place where only lovers can go.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Ben.”

  At the sound of Virgil’s voice on his cell phone, Ben set aside the coffee he’d been enjoying at Rebecca’s kitchen table. “Yes, Sheriff.”

  “The state boys have concluded their investigation into Will Theisen’s years at divinity school and have set up a meeting with Will for nine o’clock this morning at his place. I’d like you at that meeting.”

  Ben glanced at the kitchen clock, noting that he had less than half an hour. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Remember to wear your uniform, since you’re representing me. Afterward, I’d like you to stop by my office and we’ll talk.”

  “Depending on how long it lasts, I should be there before noon.”

  “Good.” The sheriff hung up.

  Ben glanced at Rebecca seated across the table. “Good thing I washed my uniform last night.”

  Rebecca laughed. “I believe I boasted that having you here was like having my very own housekeeper, since you did my laundry with yours.”

  “That’s what comes of living with a houseful of men. Whenever one of us does a load of laundry, we do everybody’s laundry.” He looked down at his shirt and pants, and the badge winking at his breast pocket. “A state police detective is meeting with Will in half an hour. Virgil wants me there as his liaison.”

  Her smile faded slightly. “I hope Will’s interview goes more smoothly than mine.”

  “You realize I won’t be able to fill you in on the details. Whatever I hear will remain part of the police file.”

  She nodded.

  On a sigh she said, “I may as well head over to work.”

  “I’ll drop you on the way to Will’s.”

  Minutes later, as they walked outside to Ben’s truck, their moods had gone from lighthearted to somber. Though neither of them spoke of the shots that had been fired, they were both keenly aware that nothing had changed. Somewhere in town someone wishing them harm was in hiding, and waiting for another opportunity to stalk Rebecca or Will for some reason known only to the stalker.

  Ben brought his truck to a smooth stop outside the hardware store. “How late do you work tonight?”

  Rebecca paused before climbing from Ben’s truck. “We’re planning on closing early, since the town is filling up with ranchers for the start of the Autumn Festival. The high school plans a kickoff relay race at noon.”

  “Why don’t I pick you up whenever I can get away? If it’s early enough, we could grab something at the Hitching Post and still find a spot along Main Street to watch the race.”

  “All right.” She reached over to squeeze his hand. “Last night was…amazing.”

  He shot her a devilish grin. “This morning wasn’t bad, either, ma’am.”

  They were both laughing as she stepped down from his truck and stood watching as he pulled away.

  “Ben.” Will Theisen seemed surprised to see him when he opened the front door.

  “Will. Sheriff Kerr asked me to sit in on the interview as his representative. I’ll be meeting with him at his office afterward.”

  “I see.”

  “Whatever is disclosed here will remain confidential, except for law enforcement.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Will stood aside and indicated the parlor, where Detective Russ Godfrey was seated.

  After Ben and the detective shook hands, Ben chose a seat some distance from Will, giving the young minister some space.

  Ben glanced around the old-fashioned parlor of Will’s family home. Will’s parents had passed away several years earlier, and the house had been through a succession of tenants, none of whom had made any improvements. Now the walls showed faded imprints where old photos had once hung. Most of the furniture had been arranged in clusters awaiting pickup by a local charity before the house was put on the market. The rooms looked old and faded.

  Detective Russ Godfrey began by mentioning Will’s mentor, Reverend Palmer, the dean of the divinity school.

  “Reverend Palmer told me about a…situation between you and a woman named Mercy Martino.”

  Will blanched. “I’d hoped to move on from that.”

  Detective Godfrey continued smoothly. “I understand you were counseling the lady, who was a member of the inner-city church you’d been assigned to.”

  Will nodded.

  His hands, Ben noted, were clasped tightly in his lap, as though holding himself together by sheer force of will.

  “Tell me about Mercy Martino.”

  Will swallowed. “She’s young. Barely eighteen, and already the mother of a two-year-old and another on the way.”

  “The father of her child?”

  “Ranaldo Rider. Also eighteen. He runs with an unsavory bunch. He boasted to her that his friends don’t marry their women.”

  “How did you feel when she told you that?”

  Will frowned. “I told her that’s not love. If he loved her, he would make a commitment to be her husband and a loving, caring father to their children.”

  “How did that sit with the young woman?”

  Will’s tone lowered with undisguised disgust. “She said that’s just the way things are. She would have to accept it because she loved him but could never change him.”

  “And you were okay with that?”

  “How could I be?” Agitated, Will stood and began to pace. “That goes against everything I believe as a minister. I told Mercy that if she wanted respect from Ranaldo, she would first have to r
espect herself.”

  “And how should she do that?”

  “By laying down the law to him. When she told me how much Ranaldo loved their two-year-old son, Hunter, I told her to use that as leverage to get what she needed. If she should refuse to allow Ranaldo to see his son and let him know that he would never get to see the baby girl she was carrying, Ranaldo would come around and realize that he needed to do the right thing, if not out of consideration for her, then at least so he could have what he wanted from their relationship.”

  “Did you discuss this with Reverend Palmer before counseling Mercy?”

  Will stopped his pacing. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Will sighed. “I knew what his advice would be.”

  “And that is?”

  “He would have told me to step away. The rule of counseling is to never get too emotionally involved with the people you’re trying to help. But that rule makes no sense. If I’m going to help someone, I need to get close enough to learn the whole truth of their situation.”

  “Even if it means violating a rule?”

  Will sat down heavily in the chair. “She was so young. And she looked tired and beat. She lives with her widowed mother, who works two jobs just to keep ahead of their bills. A two-year-old, another on the way, and little or no help from the father of those children. It isn’t right.”

  “It may not be right, but that was her choice.”

  “I know that. But don’t you see? I was showing her a life she could have if she made better choices.”

  “And if your advice backfired? Were you going to be there for her if Ranaldo left her? Would you be there to rush her to the hospital, or to comfort her if Ranaldo and his friends decided to ‘teach her a lesson’?”

  Sweating now, Will pressed the back of his hand to his brow. “Obviously I can’t be there physically for her. But I firmly believe it’s my duty to show her the right way.”

  “While she’s left alone to pay the piper.”

  Will lowered his head. “I didn’t think about that.” He looked over. “Is she…all right?”

  “As far as I know.”