A Cowboy To Keep: A Contemporary Western Romance Collection

by Hebby Roman

  “What happened after your family lost the ranch?”

  “Nothing good to tell you the truth. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime. Let’s just say the only steady influence in my life at the time was the priest at our church. And their charity made sure none of us kids went hungry.”

  “Is that why you’re so religious?”

  He ducked his head in her direction, an amused look on his face. “What makes you think I’m religious?”

  “Only that you bought practically a whole roll of raffle tickets for something you didn’t want. That you take food to the church soup kitchen. Stuff like that.”

  “No, I’m not religious. I believe in giving back, is all.”

  Harper shifted nervously. “And I looked in your window the first day I was at your house. I wasn’t being nosy. I was just trying to work out if someone was home.”

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and grinned. “Naturally.”

  “I saw your wall covered with photos of churches—”

  “I took those, but only because I think the silhouettes against the sky are interesting. I take other pictures too but those went well with—”

  “The crosses.”

  “Crosses with milagros. I collect them.”

  She shifted in her seat. “I saw the tattoo...on your chest.” She felt her face go hot, thinking of his hard body, hidden now under his shirt.

  “I’m drawn to religious iconography,” he said in his slow drawl.

  Harper tried to keep a straight face but she burst into laughter. “I’m sorry! That’s the last thing I expected to come out of your mouth.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” he asked, but there was laughter in his voice.

  Now she got a case of the giggles. “It’s the way you said it. ‘I’m drawn to religious iconography.’” She imitated his voice. She looked up at him to see his face lit up with that great smile.

  Their eyes met and though she wasn’t sure who made the first move, in the next moment their lips came together. She felt his hands on her face, pulling her in closer. A feeling overcame her like nothing she ever experienced—a kind of hunger. It wasn’t enough to be close to him, she wanted to be part of him. Her hands dug into his hair, grabbing fistfuls of soft curls, making him groan. She tilted her head with lips parted, letting him deepen the kiss. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths, strengthening the connection. He ran one hand down her back while grasping the back of her head, pushing through her hair with the other.

  Acting on instruction from her body, Harper shifted and with lips still glued to his, she rose and threw her legs around his hips, straddling him. Giving an appreciative hum, which buzzed against her ear, he put his hands on her buttocks, pressing her body tighter to his. With her dress bunched over her thighs, she felt him already hard and pressing against the sensitive spot between her legs.

  She ground down harder, needy with the urge to have him. Oh, lord, I’m one move away from exploding. Her hips moved back and forth of their own accord, bringing her to the brink. When she felt his hands moving aside the fabric of her dress, his fingers seeking her nipples, she arched her neck back. That’s the move.

  Just when she started to feel herself going over the brink to oblivion, Flynn rolled them both over so they lay side by side, taking the building pressure back down. With greedy hands, she pulled open his shirt and explored his body. His fingers traveled down to her panties, teasing her by circling around the place she ached for him to touch. When he nudged aside the panties, she began to spiral out of control.

  “No, wait,” she managed in a breathy voice.

  He pulled back and looked at her. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

  “No, I mean I’m about to come.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s all right by me,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Too soon. I want to slow down,” she panted out the words.

  He smiled at her and moved his hand to the safer territory of her face. They kissed slowly, gently. He threw his leg over her. The sound of something hitting metal broke through her trance.

  “Ouch. That was my knee,” he said, his laughter bubbled against her mouth. Then he pulled away. “You know, I’m beginning to remember the discomforts of making out in the bed of a pickup truck. I think it’s time we go.”

  He pulled her up to a sitting position and, after one quick kiss, he jumped to the ground, easing her down next to him. Both feet on the ground, she stood before him. He was tall but so was she. Their bodies fit well together, she thought, as she fell into his arms again. They rocked back and forth caught in an embrace she didn’t want to end. Finally, he put his lips to her hairline and gave her a light kiss. “Let’s go.”

  They rode back in silence. Harper watched the dry, desert landscape roll past. She rolled down her window to feel the cooling night air on her fevered skin. Cooler too was her reasoning with mind once more in dominance over body. Her stomach clenched at the thought of how close she’d come to giving it up—in the back of a pickup truck, for heaven’s sake! What had come over her? She hadn’t been with a man since Justin, who had been the only one for years. Maybe it was the excitement of the unfamiliar. And what now? It’d been a long time since Harper found herself in this position. She supposed when they got back, she’d thank him and kiss him good night before heading back home—maybe with a dinner date set.

  A hand on her thigh sent her thoughts in a different direction, filling her with desire. Her skin ached with feverish heat. Without taking his eyes off the road, Flynn let his hand ride up her leg and under her dress with a touch so light, almost a tickle, glancing over her skin. The heat of desire washed over her again. I don’t think the evening is going to end with a simple goodnight kiss. In response, she put her hand over and dug her fingers in his thigh.

  He pulled into his yard with a squeal of brakes and a cloud of dust. When he turned off the engine, he turned toward her with eyes full of longing. She nodded to him once and jumped out of the cab, and somehow they were in each other’s arms again in front of the truck, mouths mashed together. She heard the cooling engine ticking as she melted deeper into his embrace.

  He broke away, breathing hard. “Want to see what my house looks like from the inside?”

  All she could manage was a quick nod. He took both her hands in his and walked backward toward the house.

  “Wait, Flynn. I want you to know I don’t usually—”

  “Oh, come on, Harper. Don’t use that old ‘I’m not usually this kind of girl’ line on me. We’re both adults now.” He stopped and pulled her into him again. “I think we both know what we want to happen. And I’d prefer you call me Frank under the circumstances.” With that, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his house.

  Chapter Ten

  Once they were inside the house, all the pent up sexual tension that had building up for weeks let loose. They barely made it up to the bedroom, and Harper didn’t even remember how they got there, except it couldn’t have been fast enough. They were on each other like two wild animals. She’d never experienced lovemaking as passionate as this. Wave upon wave of pleasure washed over her.

  Before she’d even recovered, they made love again—slow, taking their time to learn about each other’s bodies. Frank was a fast learner. She collapsed back onto the mattress, breathing hard and feeling a blessed, great release, lights flashing behind her eyelids. She wanted to stay like this forever.

  She came back to the present when she felt his fingertips grazing her cheek. “Hey, where’d you go? You’re kind of in a stupor.” She turned her head to see Flynn up on one elbow gazing at her with that gorgeous smile.

  She ran a finger around his shoulder. “I am in a stupor. Did you drug me?”

  He chuckled. “I guess good sex is a natural high. But now I’m starving. I don’t know about you, but something came up and I didn’t get my dinner. How about we head to the kitchen and see what we can rustle up. You’re a chef right?�
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  Hunger pangs gnawed at her stomach, but she felt so comfortable and relaxed laying here next to him, she didn’t want to move. The mattress sank as he sat up and then hopped out of bed. She turned on her side to admire his body again as he slid into jeans. He threw his shirt at her and pulled a pair of boxer shorts out of a drawer and tossed them her way. “Here. Let’s see how you look.”

  She slid out of bed and stood, stretching like a cat waking from a nap. He clicked his tongue in appreciation, as she slowly slid her arms into the shirt and put on the bottoms.

  “If that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen,” he said, holding out his hands. “Come on before I change my mind about food.”

  He led her out of the bedroom and down the stairs, passing a trail of her discarded clothes, which she picked up along the way. She’d been too preoccupied earlier to notice much. Walking through the living room to the kitchen, it struck her how sparsely the place was furnished. But what he did have was tasteful and artfully displayed.

  “I don’t want any second-hand, cast-off junk in my house. I’m not in a hurry to fill it up, but I always have my eye out for things I like,” he said, as if reading her mind.

  She had the feeling there was more to that statement than he was saying. The thudding of a tail drew her attention to the crate set up in a corner of the room.

  “Yeah, I’ll have to take him out one more time before it gets too late, but first food.”

  With a snap of a light switch the kitchen became illuminated. Still holding her hand, he went to the refrigerator and flung open the door. “Not much here. I haven’t had a chance to shop. What do you think?”

  She scanned the contents, tapping her lower lip with her fingertip. Suddenly he swung her into his arms. “Damn, if you aren’t the cutest….”

  He mashed his mouth to hers and put his arms around her. The feel of his bare skin flooded her with desire again.

  She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. “Are you trying to distract me from the meagre contents of your fridge. Let me look. I’m a professional.” She took a second look. “Okay, there’s not much, but you do have eggs, milk, butter and bacon. Do you have flour? I could make pancakes. How does breakfast for dinner sound?”

  “Like a good way to refuel.”

  “You might need to do that, partner. How about you get me a mixing bowl and the flour? Baking soda if you got it.” He unwound his arms from around her and opened a nearby cabinet. She watched the muscles in his shoulders dance as he pulled things out. Damn. After he deposited the flour and bowl on the counter, she handed him the bacon. “I’m putting you on bacon detail.”

  “You’re a bossy thing in the kitchen.”

  “I can be bossy in any room of the house when I need to be. Now, do you have a whisk for me?” She took out the milk, eggs, and butter and closed the door, coming face to face with a photo stuck there by a magnet. A group of children, aged toddler to teen, posed under a tree. “Who are these kids?”

  “My nieces and nephews.” He turned away to the cooktop.

  “Cute kids.”

  “Uh-huh.” Apparently, that was all he was giving up on the subject. “You’ll find a whisk in the drawer there. I’ll get the griddle out for you.”

  Her father’s words about Flynn keeping himself to himself came back to her. She got the same sense: this wasn’t a man you wanted to press. He seemed to have his own ways of disclosing information about himself in his own time. A sudden prick of anxiety threatened to break her bubble. What usually happened in these situations? Was she expected to go home or stay the night?

  She felt his hand run down her calf as he bent to pull the griddle out. A warm tingle ran up her spine. I don’t want to go home.

  They worked together in contented silence. A brush of a hand here, a stolen kiss there, amid the smell and sizzle of bacon. At last, they filled their plates with food and went out to the table on the back porch. He turned on the floor lamp, surrounding them in a soft glow.

  “Nice table, by the way.” She put down her plate.

  “Thanks. I got it at a flea market. Took me a while to find the chairs.”

  “Mid-century. Very ‘in’ now.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “I just like the way they look.” He put a bite of pancake in his mouth and chewed with a look of pleasure on his face. “You make a mean pancake, Harper.”

  “I wish I had some blueberries. They’d be even better.”

  A cloud passed over his features. “Sometimes you have to make do with what’s on offer.”

  She felt her cheeks redden. Had she offended him? They ate in silence for a few moments. “So, have you always lived alone out here? It’s so quiet.”

  “Yep. I like it just fine. When you have to spend part of the week in the company of loud men, you come to appreciate the silence. I suppose it must seem dull here to you after living in New York.”

  She pressed her knee against his. “I’m finding things far from dull.”

  He smiled and ducked his head. “Things did get unexpectedly exciting today. But, I mean in general. How is it for you settling back here?”

  She tilted her head and studied the darkened view out the window. “Too early to say. It’s nice to be close to my parents again—now I’m not sharing a house with them. For the moment I’m enjoying the slower pace of life.”

  He knit his brows, a flicker of uncertainty on his face, but then he shook his head and smiled up at her again. “For the moment, huh? Well, at this moment I need to take Dog out.”

  “I’ll come with you. Let me get dressed.”

  That little flicker of uncertainty again. “You don’t need to get dressed yet, do you? There’s nobody around for miles. I’ll get you a jacket.”

  He thinks if I get dressed I’ll leave. He wants me to stay.

  * * *

  This was the way to wake up. Harper didn’t want to open her eyes yet. She wanted to remain in this state of total relaxation—oblivion really, a smile on her face, curled in the crook of a strong arm, her back pressed against Frank’s side.

  Once back in the house, Dog back in crate, he gave her a tour of the house to show her the work he’d done on it. For a man living alone, he was very tidy. Nothing out of place. She saw some of his other photographs sprinkled here and there, but the only personal picture he had was the one in his kitchen of his nieces and nephews. He had a room he used as a study where he kept his computer. That room and the back porch seemed to be the rooms he used the most, judging by signs of human habitation. And the bedroom. They’d gotten a lot of use out of that room last night.

  She cracked open her eyelids at last. Empty condom wrappers lay on the nightstand where they’d been dropped—three of them. The fitted sheet had come undone on her side of the bed, exposing the bare mattress underneath.

  Feeling warm and affectionate, she flipped over to face him. Flynn lay on his back, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. Something about the look on his face, which wasn’t reflecting the joy and contentment she felt, made an alarm bell ring in her mind—muted but there.

  He turned to face her. “Good morning. I was thinking about starting some coffee, but I needed my arm and didn’t want to wake you.”

  She sat up to release his arm, leaning over to kiss him. Alarm bell shrilled louder in her head. That was a one-sided kiss if ever I felt one. She looked him in the eye and he gave her a weak smile before sitting up, breaking eye contact. “I have to be at the station in an hour. That’s where I’ll be the next 24 hours.” She detected a forced quality to his voice.

  “Yes, I’m aware of how long a shift is.”

  “Of course you are. Same shift as your dad.”

  Maybe that was the problem. “Will that be awkward for you? Since we….”

  “Not particularly. I don’t plan on announcing at the crew meeting that I slept with the Captain’s daughter. Now, how about some coffee? I’m also able to offer you a cinnamon roll to go with that.” More like the hos
t of a B and B looking after her well-being than someone she’d been intimate with. He swung his legs off the side of the bed, his back to her.

  “Flynn...Frank. What’s going on?”

  He looked over his shoulder at her. “Nothing’s going on.”

  “Well, I sense you have regrets. Do you think less of me?”

  He sighed, and with his back still to her, he spoke. “Harper, don’t think that. It’s not about you. It’s just been a while since I did this.”

  “Oh, well, I haven’t slept with anyone in a while either. Not since Justin broke up with me—”

  “I don’t mean that. Did I seem out of practice to you?” He winked at her over his shoulder. “No, I mean it’s been a long time since I had a woman spend the night with me...here. This has all been an unexpected event to me.”

  “I see. And do you usually spend the night at the lady’s house?”

  “Not generally. Look, I’m not very good at this. It’s not you. It’s me.”

  The numbness she felt gave way to anger. “Do NOT use that line with me!” She jumped out of bed, collecting the clothes she’d dropped on a chair last night when they went back to bed. “Did I force myself on you? I missed the part where you invited me to leave last night. In fact, I got the distinct impression you wanted me to stay.”

  “I did.”

  “Last night you did. This morning you seem to have other thoughts on the matter.” She slipped into her clothes as quickly as she could.

  He remained sitting on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair. “We don’t have time to talk about this now. I’ll call you later.”

  She threw him one look as she walked out the door. “You know, I don’t think that’s a good idea. What’s there to talk about? It’s all very clear to me. And don’t worry. Nobody needs to know about this. Did something happen here last night? I can’t recall.”

  She could see him out of the corner of her eye, sitting immobile on the bed—not making a move to stop her. She hurried out of the house before he could come after her—if that’s what he even planned to do, which didn’t seem likely. Felt more like he was relieved to get shot of her. Well, she was going to walk to her car with dignity and not further embarrass herself by showing how humiliated she felt. Before she drove away, she stole a glance at the house. Nope. Nobody coming after her, wanting her back.