The Cattleman

by Angi Morgan

  “Sun’s coming up,” she whispered, breathless and sounding wanton. “You ready for a shower?”

  For a long second, she saw the invitation in his eyes. The one he purposely had teased her with all week in front of every person on the ranch. The same suggestive invite that he stealthily secured then hid behind a blank look and a shrug.

  She reached for the towel she’d brought from the house, and then her feet flew over her head. Flat on her back in a pile of hay, Nick towered over her, laughing.

  “My feet?”

  “Spread not staggered.” He winked.

  Beth stayed put, waiting for the right moment to bring Nick to her side on the ground. Gone was the desire to share an intimate moment. The adrenaline pumping through her veins was about winning, about the teacher not being outshined by her pupil. “Oh, man, I don’t think I can move again.”

  He took a step closer, lowered his hand ready to help her to her feet. She closed her eyes to keep from giving herself away. She played her feminine card, breathing harder, knowing that her chest was propelling her thinly-covered breasts closer to him. Knowing that no matter what was or wasn’t between them, under it all...he was just a guy. His stance weakened as he bent to check on her and she struck.

  Lightning fast she whipped her hand behind his ankle and yanked. With a resounding whack, he joined her on the hay pile. The moaning next to her was a positive indication she’d succeeded in her mission.

  “I’m thinking that move isn’t totally fair.”

  She twisted her face toward his, almost as close as when his back had pressed against her. “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t have that weapon in my arsenal. Never will.” He rose on an elbow, his eyes cutting to the cleavage at the top of her tight sports bra.

  It was her turn to laugh. “No, I guess you don’t.”

  “We should head to our respective corners before we break something.” His fingertips skimmed the top seam of her tank.

  It was worse torture than if he’d pinned her shoulders to the ground. She couldn’t move. Her pulse raced in anticipation. She craved more. Another stroke. A single kiss. Shoot, just holding his hand when they were alone would be nice.

  “What could we...um...break out here?”

  “The rules.”

  He rolled away and stood, leaving her to fend for herself. If he hadn’t, she would have been all over him. It was better this way. Much better. She’d be heading home in another week. Sooner if she didn’t conquer her fear of those four-legged monsters at rest in the stalls.

  She’d never caught herself wishing for things to be different, but...

  She really wished their situation was different.

  “Meet you back here after breakfast.”

  “Not today.” He swiped at the straw stuck to his loose jeans.

  The man really did need new clothes that fit him after all the workouts he’d done this year to get strong. Of course, then everyone else would see what was hidden. Beth sort of liked the idea that she was the only woman who knew about the hidden muscles.

  She swallowed hard, trying to hide her excitement. Nick might mistake it as excitement for the horse. “I thought I had to saddle Applewine all by my lonesome today.”

  “You do, but dad can supervise.” He began walking out the door, swinging his arms into his jacket.

  The weather had turned much colder in the past couple of days. She’d already mentioned to Juliet she was thankful for the thicker coat she’d purchased in Alpine.

  “Wait. Why can’t you walk me through it?” He was hiding something from her. “Are you driving to Fort Davis? Marfa? Abilene?” She watched him shake his head as she ran through the town names. “But you are going somewhere.”

  “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  “You are not going into those mountains without me, and there’s no use arguing about it.”

  He slammed his hand against the wall and then dropped his forehead against the painted wood. “You can’t. I need to be on my own tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow was the anniversary of the day he’d been shot. Everybody was worried about him. Honestly, she’d expected to find him gone today instead of sparring with her. Her change of clothes and toothbrush were already in saddlebags his father had provided.

  She comforted Nick—as much as she could someone in his situation—by placing her hand on his shoulder. It was his only body part she trusted herself to touch. “I’ll go with you. It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

  “It would be a lot simpler if you just let me handle this.”

  “We both know that’s not a good idea.”

  He pivoted and her hand slid across his rigid chest. She recognized the angst, the worry that he’d lose it. The tick in his jaw was as pronounced as the worry wrinkle between his eyes. Gorgeous eyes that excited her with each glance. They warmed her just by looking at her, as if she’d swallowed a shot of whiskey instead of sinking into the depths of his gaze. But she had to set her attraction aside. What little advice she could give, he needed it. Soon.

  He covered her hand still at the base of his throat. She could see his rapid pulse, feel the anxiety pumping with every beat of his all-American heart. His lips flattened tight with anger, his grip was the tiniest bit too tight, his eyes were narrowed slits. Whatever he was about to say would be brutal so she’d be angry. So he could leave without her.

  Or at least try.

  Then it was gone. He looked totally relaxed, waiting for her to overreact. Two could play that game and she was much better practiced at it than he. She’d been fooling her parents and DEA personnel for months.

  “You still aren’t going without me,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t say a word.” He quirked an eyebrow high and dropped her hand.

  “Oh...you shouted volumes.”

  * * *

  NICK RUBBED JUST under his shoulder. Probably out of habit instead of it hurting. He almost couldn’t tell anymore. They’d been riding a couple of hours and Beth had been handling her horse well, listening to his instructions without complaint. So what was bugging him?

  What wasn’t bugging him?

  A week ago he’d had every intention of taking Beth up on her offer to have some “fun” during her stay on the ranch. Every day the objective should have been plain. She looked more than willing, yet he went to bed alone. He liked her. The most surprising thing was that he respected the effort she put into learning ranch life.

  Conversation around the dinner table flowed easily about her life in Chicago, shopping or adjusting to West Texas. She’d missed Thanksgiving with her family the week before, so his mom had made a second turkey dinner with all the trimmings. The only thing missing had been a Dallas Cowboys football game.

  Not bad on the eyes. He hadn’t known he liked tall women until her horse had thrown her in that water cistern. Her hair was much more than just black. The sun bounced through the strands like blue flames.

  She caught him staring at her, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t have to.

  “Why in the world do you call this poor beast Applewine? That’s not even a real word,” Beth asked, picking a twig from her horse’s mane near her gloved hands.

  “Mom wouldn’t let us call her Apple Vinegar.”

  “Now that was just mean, wasn’t it, girl?” She patted the bay’s neck, then sat straight. “Your dad said we should have snow soon. Are you really planning on spending two nights out here in the open?” Beth twisted in her saddle, then stretched in the stirrups. She was clearly uncomfortable.

  “You seem kind of...fidgety.” Her movements made him laugh and wince at her discomfort at the same time. “I could radio for one of the men to come get you. I’m not going to get into any trouble up here on my own.”

  “Famous last words. How in the world do you keep...um...things from going numb?”

  “You’ll get used to it.” He laughed, keeping it low so she wouldn’t get mad. He’d probably laughed more in the past week tha
n during the entire past year.

  But then it hit him again, a wave of “nothing in life mattered.” Whatever he did, he wouldn’t stop smugglers from using his land. It was a hopeless dream to try. Maybe he should get out, sell, move. He’d thought about it many times while staring into the mountains. He’d suffocate in a city.

  That was the crux of his problem.

  Afraid to stay because of his unknown enemies. Afraid to leave because he’d just die a slow death making a living somewhere else.

  “I could enjoy this ride a lot more if this were a cool gel saddle.” She stood in her stirrups again, giving Applewine a looser rein, which encouraged the horse to trot. “Whoa, sister.”

  “Sit and pull back a little.” Watching Beth’s antics, he should be enjoying the ride a lot more.

  His body grew too heavy to move. He couldn’t get the image of the corral out of his head. The feeling of icy cold continued to seep into his veins no matter where he was. He could search the storm clouds building over the ridge, but the white pipe fence built itself piece by piece. The last thing he’d seen as he formed the last thought he should have while dying.

  “You, um...okay?”

  Beth had stopped her horse and his had stopped next to her. He hadn’t noticed. He’d gotten completely lost reliving the moment he’d been shot.

  “Want to talk about it? You said you would, you know.”

  Yeah, he’d promised. He searched the opposite horizon to avoid her concerned eyes. At the time he’d given his word, he’d meant it. This week had been okay. The nightmares had been replaced with dreams of tossing Beth into the hay—for different reasons than practicing self-defense.

  “Nick?”

  “Tomorrow. That’s when it happened.” He answered without wanting to.

  “Right.”

  “I couldn’t be there. Looking at the corral. Wondering... Thinking it would all happen again.” The slow motion fall to the frozen ground replayed in his mind. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t not see it. He felt his flesh tear. Felt the hot searing and ultimate pain—

  “Nick!” Beth shook his shoulder.

  How had she gotten so close? Damn. He was falling for real. Almost on top of her.

  “Should we pull over for a while?”

  “What?” He swallowed hard, almost choking, holding back a roar of laughter. “We don’t really pull over our horses.”

  Potential anger or not, he couldn’t hold it in. He laughed at her mistake so hard he bent forward over his saddle horn, rubbing Rocket’s thick neck while he was there.

  Beth dismounted. He couldn’t see her face and would probably need to smooth over his inconsiderate treatment of her ignorance. Oh, God, he could see her shoulders shaking. She leaned into the side of her saddle, crying.

  Nick swung his leg and jumped off the right side, next to Beth. He dropped an arm around her shoulder thinking of something positive to say. Anything that could make up for belittling her. “I didn’t mean to laugh—”

  Beth tipped her head back. There were tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. Tears of laughter. She drew in several deep breaths, slowing down to talk. “Oh, wow, that was so funny.”

  “I thought you were upset.”

  “Oh, no. Pull over a horse? Ha ha. I crack myself up.” She hobbled to the edge of the path, bending at the waist and stretching.

  He took the reins of both horses, enjoying the view. He liked that about her. She’d apologized while admitting she knew nothing about riding, but then laughed at herself without a second thought.

  Joining her near the slippery rock slope, he stuck his free hand in his front pocket while the other kept the horses just behind him. He tried to back up with no luck. There was plenty of open space around them, but it sure felt snug.

  “We better get moving and get to high ground before this weather turns on us.” If they stayed there, he’d kiss those soft luscious lips that tasted like a Chapstick version of cherry that he couldn’t get enough of. Then he’d fall into her, letting every curve she had press next to him. Pulling her closer until it wasn’t close enough.

  “Nick? You okay?”

  Stumbling backward, he startled the horses while slipping on loose pebbles under his boots. What the hell was the matter with him today? He’d practically had Beth’s clothes off in his vision. He could feel the blood rushing, the anticipation of taking her was already killing him. He swiped at his sweating brow and knocked off his hat.

  Applewine spooked as if a rattlesnake were striking. She reared up, pulling his arm with it.

  Beth’s fear didn’t keep her from rushing forward, latching on to her horse’s bridle and yanking down. Shoulder to shoulder with Nick again, she rubbed Applewine’s light tan forehead with her knuckles.

  “Don’t you dare bite me, you old nag.”

  “I got ’em.”

  “Are you certain? You seem to be fading out somewhere.”

  The first pings of sleet bounced off his hat that had fallen to the ground. “Time for talking later. Mount up. We’ve got to get shelter.”

  “Are you sure we can’t just hug a tree trunk until this passes?”

  “You’d be standing there quite a while.” He snatched his hat from the rocks.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I did not mean that like you think.”

  “Cover your face with your scarf, keep your head down and let Applewine do her job. Just relax. She’ll follow behind Rocket without questioning a thing. If you could do that, I’d appreciate it.”

  A quiet harrumph and her lips tightened like she’d superglued them together. She clicked and cooed to her horse as she’d been taught, but was silent for the hour it took to get to the cabin.

  They stabled the horses where she opened her mouth, looked at him, and then changed her mind. Warm, brushed and fed, the animals would be protected and comfortable in the lean-to.

  Maybe he should have told her about the cabin earlier and that they’d have a bed—or couch—to sleep on. But he hadn’t made up his mind to head this direction until the sleet had begun.

  Imagining the impossibly close quarters of a tent was what made him hightail it here.

  He grabbed an armful of wood from the pile near the cabin. Beth did the same.

  “What is this place? And don’t you dare say it’s a cabin. I can see that much.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  She dropped the stack of wood, then placed her fisted hands on her hips and cracked her neck as if she was about to pull a trigger.

  “We actually crossed over to Kate’s land. The place belongs to her, but I use it from time to time.”

  “So no sleeping under the stars to clear your head tonight?”

  “I thought this would be a little more comfortable for you.” He knelt to start the fire.

  “Actually, I won’t lie. I appreciate it. I could do with some hot coffee and grub.”

  He couldn’t help it, his head whipped around to look at the city girl who had just used the word grub.

  “Isn’t that the word?”

  “Sure it is, but since when do you talk like that?”

  “I figured, when in Rome... Your dad says it like that all the time when he signs off from his chat rooms. I’ve also heard it in the movies.” She’d fallen asleep watching a Western almost every night. “Where’s the coffeemaker?”

  “I’m building it.”

  She let out a long sigh and collapsed on the bench seat next to the door.

  “Dinner’s leftover turkey and biscuits. They’re in my saddlebags.” He knelt by the fireplace, stacking and breaking some homemade quick starters into the kindling.

  Beth closed her eyes.

  “Coffee’s there, too.”

  “Sorry, I don’t think I can move.” But she did. She flipped open his gear and dug through the side with food, then shuffled her boots across the wooden floor before she plopped on the couch. Opening the ziplock bags, she drop
ped them on the coffee table.

  He remembered all too late what he’d thrown in the top of the other bag. Condoms. How would she react if she knew he’d had no intention of leaving without her this morning?

  Now that he was here, he had no intention of starting the generator for electricity. Yet. He had other ideas about how to keep warm.

  “Is that a working potbellied stove?”

  “They didn’t haul it up here for decoration. I’ll get it started after I get water on to boil.”

  She pulled a pillow next to her and sort of slid sideways to get her head to it. She was asleep before he could get inside a cabinet and retrieve a blanket to cover her up. He tugged one of her purple rhinestone boots and then the other, dropping each. The loud noise when they hit the floor didn’t get a flinch. She was passed out like he’d slipped her a sleeping pill.

  “There’s always tomorrow.”

  He piled logs on the fire, closed up the food and toed his own boots off his feet. There was a comfortable mattress in the other room, but he’d get stiff from the cold. He took a step toward the rocker, but instead he lifted Beth’s head, deciding on the end of the couch.

  She squirmed a little, settling comfortably in his lap. He draped another blanket over his legs, tucked her blanket up to her chin and closed his eyes, regretting the images of Mac holding a gun and a person with no face pulling the strings.

  The fire had faded and the room had chilled so he must have gotten some sleep. Beth mumbled a couple of indiscernible words.

  Glancing at his watch, he saw it was after midnight. The day he’d dreaded for weeks had arrived. A day to avoid. A day to make decisions. Funny thing was...all he wanted to do was lie down next to the woman who was already halfway in his arms.

  If he could hold on to her, he had a feeling that everything would be fine—at least for a little while.

  Chapter Eight

  Beth woke with a blast of thunder. A bolt of lightning flashed, filling the room with a blinding white light, then another loud crash. At some point, Nick had carried her to bed. She was so tired she’d slept through it. Unfortunately. She would have enjoyed his arms around her.