This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12)

by Debbi Rawlins

  “Yep. I heard the same thing.” Ethan’s jaw clenched again, then he smiled and moved back a little. “I sure hope all you folks are generous to Safe Haven. They take in a lot of animals who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance of surviving. Any donation you’d like to add to the price of the ticket would be appreciated.”

  Unable to listen anymore, she shouldered her way to the door. No, she told herself. Uh-uh. She could not, and would not, feel sympathy for Ethan. As he’d said, Safe Haven was a good cause. He’d volunteered to ride. Great. Good for him. He wasn’t letting superstition spook him. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t drag his ass back to Wyoming. He’d broken the condition of his bail by taking off. And clearly he didn’t care at all about screwing her and Lola out of the money they’d posted for his bond. Sure, they had his motor coach as collateral. But until they could sell it, they were on the hook for a lot of cash.

  Finally she made it outside. The biting cold November air nipped at her heated cheeks. She drew in a deep breath and immediately started coughing from all the cigarette smoke.

  She turned to go the other way. Great. Smokers overran the sidewalk. She refused to stray too far from the door in case Ethan left, so she ducked behind a silver truck. No doubt he was anxious to get away from the stupid questions. And who could blame him?

  The lighting was poor. She dug out her phone but could barely make out the number on the crumpled paper. Using the Bic app on her cell to see, she memorized the seven digits, then called. And promptly got the no she’d expected. Disconnecting, she sighed.

  “No luck, huh?”

  Sophie knew that voice. She slanted a look at Ethan, who stood on the sidewalk, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

  He wore a tan Western-style shirt, no jacket. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, against the cold, she imagined.

  “You must have me mixed up with someone else,” she said, reminding herself to breathe. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “No?” He studied her a beat longer than she could manage to keep still. Thankfully he stepped back when she slipped between him and the truck to return to the sidewalk. “I thought maybe we had,” he said, shrugging.

  She shook her head, held her breath. “Nope.”

  Jeez. Of course he didn’t recognize her. Or really think they’d met before. It was a pickup line guys used all the time.

  “You’re looking for a place to stay tonight,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

  That stopped her again. “How do you know that?”

  “The waitress.” His intense stare wasn’t helping her nerves, so she moved into the shadows. “I asked her.”

  Sophie huffed a laugh. “And of course she told you, because...” She closed her mouth. Because of that damn sexy smile of his, that was why, but this was what Sophie wanted, to get him alone, so she’d better lose the attitude.

  “Because she’s my buddy Matt’s sister-in-law,” he said, and glanced over his shoulder when the door opened and raucous laughter spilled out into the moonlit night. “Hey, how about we go someplace else? Get away from the bar.”

  “Sure.” She tried not to seem too eager. Or irritated. Picking up a woman was this easy for a guy like Ethan. Just a look, a smile, and he was all set. She moved closer to him. The Boarding House Inn, where she knew he was staying, was within walking distance. “What did you have in mind?”

  He looked both ways down Main Street. “How about the diner? Shouldn’t be too crowded.”

  “The diner?”

  “Is that all right? We can cross after this next truck.”

  “Um, sure. I guess.”

  Glancing at her, he asked, “You have somewhere else in mind?”

  A diner? Okay, she was officially insulted. “I was thinking someplace more private,” she whispered, linking arms with him.

  Surprise flashed across his face. His eyes found hers, then he lowered his gaze to her lips. “I’m Ethan.”

  “I know who you are.”

  “And you’re Sophie?”

  So stupid. She nodded, promising herself that after this, she’d stick to her desk job. At least her name hadn’t triggered his memory. If he were to remember anything, it would probably be the pesky twerp who’d kept popping up in the weirdest places half his senior year.

  The door to the bar opened again and they both turned. A tall brunette and her blonde sidekick walked out, scanning the groups of smokers.

  The moment their gazes lit on Ethan, he tensed. “Let’s go,” he said, and draped his arm across the back of her shoulders. “Mind walking? It’s not far.”

  “Fine.” She huddled close, soaking in the warmth of his body and trying to decide if it would be too much to slide her arm around his waist.

  He walked at a fast clip, and with her shorter legs she had some trouble keeping up. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll slow down.”

  She saw her green Jeep parked at the curb just ahead, and two things flashed through her mind. She needed the handcuffs she’d left in her glove compartment, but she couldn’t stop for them because of her Wyoming plates. If he knew the Jeep was hers, he could easily put two and two together.

  “Cold?” he asked, pulling her closer.

  “What?” She realized she’d tensed. “A little.” Checking random plates, she saw a variety of out-of-state vehicles from Colorado, Utah, even an SUV from Wyoming. It was worth taking the chance. She really, really needed the cuffs. “Could we stop a minute?”

  Ethan frowned and glanced back at the Watering Hole. “Am I still walking too fast?”

  “No. We just passed my car and I wanted to grab my jacket.”

  He started to follow her, but she shook her head while inching backward and digging for the key in her pocket.

  “It’s kind of a mess,” she said, relieved that he only smiled and stayed put.

  She unlocked the driver’s door. And kept an eye on him while she quickly transferred the handcuffs from the glove box to a deep pocket in the puffy down jacket she’d left on the passenger seat. Pausing, she considered scooping up her purse hidden on the floorboard.

  Couldn’t hurt. She probably could use some lip gloss about now. Jeez. This is not a date.

  The door was closed and locked, her purse in hand before she considered the incriminating ID and bail piece authorizing her to arrest him inside her bag. It didn’t matter, since she was going to do this thing quickly. Preferably the minute they were inside his room.

  Instead of continuing to walk when she rejoined him, he studied her car. “I’ve always liked Jeeps. Looks new. Have you had it long?”

  “I bought it last year.” She drew in a breath. He was staring at her plates.

  “You from Wyoming?”

  “Not originally, but I’ve lived there for a few years now.”

  “What part?”

  “Sheridan,” she lied, purposely choosing the farthest town from Wattsville that she could think of.

  “I’m from outside Casper myself.” Either he was a very good actor or the Wyoming coincidence didn’t bother him.

  “Really? We’re not exactly neighbors, but still...”

  “Here, let me help you with your jacket.”

  Sophie thought she heard the handcuffs clink and clutched the jacket to her chest. Giving him a come-hither smile, she said, “I’d rather have your arm around me.”

  “Always happy to oblige a beautiful woman.” Ethan took her free hand and drew her close. The jacket served as an unwanted buffer. “You aren’t a rodeo fan, are you, Sophie?”

  “Um, a little...”

  He smiled. “It’s okay. My ego isn’t that fragile.”

  “I know who you are. That should count for something.”

  His puzzled frown sent up a warning flag. It lasted only a moment before the smile returned
, and he started them walking again. “So you aren’t here for the rodeo.”

  “No.” Wrong answer. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt wrong. She was missing something. “Well, yes, sort of. Does it matter?”

  “I suppose not.” He checked for traffic and guided her across the street, his arm tightening around her shoulders.

  The Boarding House Inn was just up ahead. They had another half a block to go and she hoped the men standing on the porch steps deep in conversation would hurry up and leave. If she did her job well, by tomorrow morning it would appear that Ethan Styles had disappeared into thin air. And she preferred not to be identified as the last person seen with him.

  That was where the wig came in handy. As a blonde, she barely recognized herself.

  Luckily the porch cleared just as they approached. The silence that had fallen between her and Ethan was beginning to feel awkward. She slanted him a glance and caught him watching her. The porch light shone in both of their faces and he stopped, right there, several feet from the steps. Turning to face her, he nudged up her chin and studied her mouth.

  She held her breath, certain he was about to kiss her.

  “I have one question,” he said. “Are you a reporter?”

  “What? No.”

  Something in her expression must have made him doubt her. His gaze narrowed, he seemed to be trying hard to remember...

  “Why on earth would you think I’m a reporter?” It hit her then that everything would have been so much easier if she’d just pretended to be one of his buckle bunny fans. The wariness in his face convinced her to fix that situation right now.

  “Okay, I lied,” she blurted, the words rushing out of her mouth before she could think. “I’m a huge rodeo fan. The biggest. I go to rodeos all the time. I’m a buckle bunny. I didn’t want to admit it and I—” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to stand out to get your attention, and that’s why I lied. About not being a fan.” She held in a sigh. “Does that make sense?”

  Ethan looked as if he was going to laugh.

  So she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a blazing kiss.

  3

  ETHAN RECOVERED FROM her sudden burst of enthusiasm, thankful he hadn’t landed on his ass. Sophie was small but strong, too. Strong enough that she’d forced him back a step. He put his arms around her and slowed down the kiss, taking the time to explore and sample the sweet taste of her mouth.

  They were standing on the porch, under the light, in full view of Main Street where anyone passing the inn could see them. That didn’t bother him. He just couldn’t figure out what had caused her unexpected display of passion.

  Way before he was finished with the kiss she stepped back, only to stare up at him with dazed eyes, and was that regret? Probably not. He wasn’t seeing so clearly himself.

  Damn, he should’ve moved them to his room before now. “How about we go inside where it’s warm?” he asked.

  She jerked a nod, clutched the jacket to her chest and inched farther away from him, as if she was afraid he was going to grab her.

  Wondering if she’d ever picked up a guy before, Ethan was careful to give her some space. More practiced women who followed the circuit had a completely different air about them. He opened the door and motioned for her to go inside. The lobby was tiny, furnished with a desk and two wing chairs, a small oak table on which rolls and coffee would be set out in the morning, or so he’d been told.

  “Turn right,” he said, and she did so without a word or a backward glance. “I’m near the end.”

  He watched her as she led the way, admiring the view. Sophie claimed they’d never met, but he wasn’t so sure that was true. Once he’d seen her up close, he was even more convinced they’d met before. The shape of her pouty lips had given him the first inkling that he knew her from somewhere. Even now, watching the slight sway of her hips tugged at his memory. It wasn’t a particularly distinctive walk, so he didn’t get it.

  Hell, he could’ve seen her in the crowd at a rodeo. She’d admitted she was a fan. But that didn’t feel right, either. If it turned out she’d lied and really was a reporter, man, he was going to be pissed. So far he’d been lucky. The public didn’t know about his arrest. But one more media question about the black cloud that seemed to follow him to the finals every year and he’d shut them all out. No more interviews. No more sound bites. Screw ’em.

  Sophie stopped to examine the baseboards and then looked up at the ceiling. “I think this place really was a boardinghouse at one time.”

  “Yep,” Ethan said, glad she seemed more relaxed. “It was built around the 1920s. The new owner bought the place last year and kept the renovations as close to the original structure as possible. She even tried to replicate the detail in the moldings.”

  Sophie grinned at him. “I like that you know all that stuff.”

  With a laugh, he pulled the key out of his pocket. “It was on the website.”

  “The halls are awfully narrow. Men couldn’t have had very broad shoulders back in the twenties...” Her voice trailed off, her gaze flickering away from his chest.

  “Two doors down,” he said, staying right where he was, waiting for her to start walking again so he wouldn’t crowd her.

  He had to decide what to tell her. That kiss kind of ruined his plan. He hadn’t actually been hitting on her. Blackfoot Falls was small, and with all the fans in town, he’d been rethinking Matt’s offer to stay at his ranch. Ethan knew some of the guys had parked their motor coaches there instead of at the RV park outside of Kalispell.

  Still, it would be quiet out there. He could help Sophie out by giving her his room. And staying at Matt’s meant less chance for Ethan to get in any trouble.

  He stuck the key in the lock and glanced at Sophie. With those soft brown eyes and that generous mouth, she looked like big trouble to him, tasted like it, too.

  Who was he kidding? If he’d really wanted to just give her his room, he would have said something when they were outside. By her Jeep. Now, though, it would be awkward as hell to pack up and leave. He pushed the door open and she went right on inside.

  After glancing around at the antique chair and the old armoire, she focused on the queen-size four-poster bed that took up most of the small room. She moved closer to it, stopping a moment to check out the patchwork quilt, and then ran her hand down the oak post close to the wall.

  His cock pulsed.

  When she wrapped her fingers around the smooth wood and stroked up, Ethan had to turn away. Yeah, he needed to erase that image real fast.

  Between her obvious interest in the bed and his dick’s growing interest in her, he decided it was time to offer the room as he’d intended, even if it would make him look like an ass.

  “It’s nice,” she said, smiling, walking close enough he could inhale her sweet scent. “Quaint. Too bad the furniture is so small. I bet you can’t even sit on the chair.”

  She laid her jacket over the back of it, sat on the edge and pulled off a boot.

  And there went his last good intention. Ethan sighed. If even her red-striped sock turned him on, he wasn’t going anywhere. She was already here. He was here. They were consenting adults. So he couldn’t see a reason to deny himself a little recreation before heading to the Lone Wolf. Matt had left the invitation open.

  “Need help with your boots?” she asked, mesmerizing him with those eyes the color of melted chocolate.

  He pulled both his boots off before she’d finished removing her second one. “Tell me you’re over twenty-one,” he said, straightening and pausing at the first snap on his shirt.

  Sophie laughed. “Are you serious? I don’t look that young.”

  “I just like to be sure.”

  “Well, you can relax. I’m twenty-six. Anyway, I think the age of consent is sixteen in Mon
tana.”

  The same as in Wyoming, not that he paid it any mind. Twenty-one was his personal cutoff.

  Getting to her feet, she pulled her shirt from her jeans, then stopped and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  His snaps were still intact. “I have one last question.”

  “Okay,” she said, taking a step closer, her sultry smile designed to scramble his brain.

  “Are you married?”

  Her eyebrows arched and her lips parted. She looked startled, and maybe confused. “No. Of course not.” She shook her head, her eyebrows lowering into a delicate frown. “No, I’m not married, nor have I ever been married.” She drew in a breath, seemed to calm herself and took over unsnapping his shirt. “Would it really matter?”

  “If you have to ask, damn good thing you’re still single.” He could see he’d irritated her. Too bad. He wasn’t about to get into another scrape like the mess he’d narrowly escaped in Wyoming. After discovering Wendy was married, he’d refused to sleep with her. To get back at him, she’d filed a false charge that he’d stolen some jewelry.

  Sophie looked torn for a moment and then unfastened his next snap.

  He caught her hand and inspected her ring finger. No mark, not even a faded one. “Sorry, but I’m touchy about the issue,” he said, staring into her wary eyes and lifting her hand to his lips for a brief kiss before releasing her. “It’s nothing personal.”

  Without another word, she finished unsnapping him, her eyes cast downward, until she parted the front of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Her preoccupation with his bare chest was flattering but somewhat awkward. He finished shrugging out of the shirt, impatient to see what was under hers.

  Uncertainty betrayed itself in the soft, hesitant palms she skimmed over his ribs and then his pecs. Her touch was almost reverent, her expression dreamlike. A few buckle bunnies he’d been with had tried to use their phones to sneak pictures of him shirtless, and even buck naked. But this was different. This seemed more...personal.

  Jesus, he hoped it didn’t turn out she was one of those crazy stalkers.