Want Me, Cowboy

by Sinclair Jayne

  So why had he’d said yes to her casual invitation to the parade? He was playing with fire, much like Kane did, only Kane had a tendency to go through life in a fireproof suit. Luke? Not so much. He had the scars to show that karma burned.

  Tanner stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his ear, whispered something about the Marietta band, and almost reflexively his arm curved around her slim waist. He spread his fingers to feel more of her taut body and small swell of her hips. She was so slim, but strong. Not skinny, and a fantasy of her legs wrapped around his waist had him shifting positions, but not removing his hand.

  She leaned into him a little and it felt right. She felt right and the dismay hit him hard.

  “You’re not wearing one of your rodeo buckles,” she said, her fingers dancing along his belt, and he sucked in his breath.

  She could make him hard with a teasing comment and nonsexual touch that he wished would become sexual. Imagine the havoc she could wreck if he gave into his impulse to take her hand and… he stopped that train of thought with an imaginary left hook. Family spot.

  “Bit too show-off for me,” Luke said.

  “The Seventy-Eighth Copper Mountain Rodeo design is a real beauty,” Tanner said. “Maybe one of the board members will let you see it.”

  “They’ll be awarding it to me,” Luke said because what else could he say?

  Plus he loved the way her hazel eyes widened as her mouth slid into a sweet smile.

  “We’ll see, cowboy. You’ll need to model it for me later,” she said.

  “Maybe, if you play your cards right, I’ll even let you wear it.” He teased back, easy in her company.

  She nudged him with her body. “I’ll take you up on that because I love shiny and sparkle and I’ve always played a killer hand of poker.”

  “Figures,” he said, forgetting his self-regulatory lectures from last night.

  Tanner wasn’t a child. And if she wanted to play? Why the hell was he acting like spinster aunt? Tanner was a woman, not a girl. A businesswoman not a buckle bunny. Why not let loose a bit? Play with fire. Learn if her pale skin was as soft and warm as he imagined, and if she had freckles on more than her face. He really wanted to know that.

  “Have I tortured you enough, cowboy, with small-town festivities?”

  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone, and he found himself smiling into her upturned face.

  “Torture?” He bent down as if to kiss her lips and then thought maybe that was too presumptuous and public for a local girl, so he found her ear instead and graced the curved lines with his lips. “I think you’re enjoying the horses and their spangly riders and being pelted with candy as much as I am.”

  She laughed and swung her body around to face him.

  “I do love the parade and I used to be one of those spangled and sparkly riders with studded rhinestone chaps and a lot of fringe.”

  “And the curls with a gallon of hairspray making them slap instead of bounce on your shoulders.”

  “Nah, always a braid girl. My hair is a force of nature if I free it. Think tornado, class five.”

  “Now that I want to see.”

  And just like that her smile faded, her eyes were uncertain. “My sister has beautiful hair. It’s a deeper red, more auburn than mine, and it’s softer, less kinky, and she’s wicked with the products and wields a mean blow dryer and curling iron so she can make it tumble over her shoulders like a field of poppies.”

  Her voice was flat, but he heard the echo of an ache in it. Sibling rivalry, or the expectation of it, he could totally relate to, especially coming up on the short end himself most of the time, despite being the older brother. He found himself holding her closer, resting his chin on top of her head, the straw of her cowboy hat, dark blue today, teased his chin.

  “I’ve always been real partial to storms,” he said. “The wilder the better, no pun intended.”

  “I think the pun was definitely intentional.”

  “Caught.”

  Her breathing quickened and the slight movement he glimpsed in the narrow “V” of her shirt was all it took to jack him up from teasing to serious. On a street corner of a town he’d sworn never to visit. With hundreds of people lined up watching Marietta smile and wave and toss candy as they marched proudly by on a warm September midmorning. With a woman five minutes ago he was counseling himself to keep his hands and other body parts to himself with.

  Definite fail on that angle, and he was finding himself not really caring. Life was meant to be lived not watched on the sidelines like it was a damn parade and he was waiting for some small treat to be thrown his way.

  His hands slid up to her waist, loving how small she felt, and he spanned his fingers so his thumbs brushed against the small swell of her breasts. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  “You don’t have to sweet talk me, cowboy,” she whispered and then whimpered when he kissed along her slender, pale neck.

  “My timing sucks,” he said as the high school band blared by them. He brushed his hardening erection against her, loving the flare of heat in her eyes. “Think of something mundane to distract me.”

  “Ummm…” Her green-flecked eyes drifted down to his mouth and stayed there.

  “Not helping,” he said softly.

  Tanner’s body seemed to melt into his. “Not really sure I want to help,” she said softly, her fingers caught in the front of his shirt. “You mentioned candy last night. Red rope licorice, right?”

  He nearly choked. “That was not to eat so still not helping.” His mouth moved back and forth barely brushing across her lips.

  “I wonder what it was for?” She said thoughtfully and tipped his Stetson back and caught it in one hand while her other feathered through his hair. “Do you really want help, cowboy?”

  “Desperately.” He let his hands span a little higher. “Considering we’re on Main Street during the height of happy family time and my experiences yesterday all point to me being jailed or at least run out of town instead of just the best bar if I even think about what I’d like to do with you, cowgirl.”

  “I think I can get you reinstated”—she stood on tiptoe, her lips just a breath from his—“to Grey’s if you behave.”

  “Trying.” He anchored his hands on her hips.

  “That’s not what I meant by behaving.” She sighed as she leaned into him. “But your way is probably for the best.”

  “Aaah-huh.” He let go of her waist and intended to step away, but she made the mistake of looking up at him and the expression in her face, so warm and hungry booted his self-restraint. He cupped her cheeks. “I want to kiss you,” he said. “I really blew it last night and couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering how sweet you taste.”

  “Since most of the town is here, you’ll need to settle for cotton candy.” She snagged a bag from a passing vendor.

  She dug in her pocket for a few dollars. She opened the bag and tore off a piece of spun sugar and held it out to him.

  “Too pink?”

  “I like pink.”

  “That’s right. You’re a metrosexual, twenty-teens man.”

  “No idea what that means,” he said, closing his mouth around the treat.

  He held her gaze as the sugar dissolved in his mouth and he pretended it was her mouth he was tasting. Bad idea, because he became harder, but he didn’t care. Tanner made everything fun.

  “But if sexual is involved then I’m listening.” He tore off a bit of the cotton candy and held it out for her. “This pink isn’t nearly as pretty as your lips or as sweet.”

  “How would you know, cowboy?” She asked, but color swept over her cheeks leaving him comparing the sweet to a different pink, which it again came out on the losing end of distraction tactics.

  “I’d like to find out,” he whispered a fraction from her lips, which pouted a little as if they were already attuned to his desire.

  “Just to prove a point?” She challenged, her eyes alight with mischief and desire, a
nd damn near impossible to resist.

  “Just to kiss you.”

  The parade faded from his peripheral vision, the music and chatter and downhome sounding announcer faded.

  “What. Are. You. Waiting. For?” Each word was a little puff of air that mingled with his and somehow that was more arousing than actually kissing her, imagining that their breaths intermingled.

  “A smaller audience,” he said ruefully, his forefinger traced town the line of her slender neck and settled in the hollow of her throat.

  He wanted to kiss her there, along her collarbone. The way her bones were so prominent looked vulnerable and elegant. He wanted to taste her skin. Drink in her scent.

  “We could go back to the fairgrounds,” she said.

  He wanted to trace that line with his tongue.

  “To…to…” She blinked. “Check my bulls.” She finally managed.

  “Is that what they call it these days?”

  His conscience, which had been riding him so hard yesterday was apparently on strike today. He wouldn’t let it go too far. Just a little fun. And she had mentioned bulls.

  Yeah. Right.

  *

  They strolled back, arms around each other, not talking, but it felt so intimate, as if by being with Luke Wilder, she was sharing herself, and he was sharing back. The silence was peaceful yet hummed with expectation. What was she doing? Tanner demanded of her inner siren. She was supposed to be establishing a business relationship with Luke Wilder, not steamy sexual memories, which would most likely burn up her dreams for months to come. But her siren didn’t care. Yesterday he had been more reserved. Today he seemed less tense, and she had to seize the day, so to speak. Not just think about what she wanted but go for it. Much like she’d implemented all the changes at the ranch rather than waiting for her daddy to give her permission and admire her work ethic and ideas.

  Good Girl. Responsible Girl. Never-Complaining Girl. Hard-Working Girl. Why did that always have to be her? And had it really made her happy, blissfully happy?

  Hell, no!

  Luke’s hand was around her waist and she savored the contact. He stopped, tangled his fingers in hers. They walked across the bridge and she dug two pennies out of her jeans.

  “Make a wish?” She handed one to Luke.

  He looked a bit surprised and then tossed it in the river.

  “You better have made a wish.” She chided. “And that looked like a lame effort.”

  “Show me.”

  She turned around so her back was against the wooden railing. Closed her eyes, rubbed the penny between her palms, made a wish, yes about him, and then tossed it over her left shoulder.

  She opened her eyes and expected him to laugh at her or tease her about the childish ritual. Instead his golden eyes had darkened and the expression in them made it hard to breathe. He took her hand, looked at it a moment, and then linked fingers with her. They walked over the bridge and onto the grassy fair grounds.

  “Bulls?” he asked.

  “Jorge and a team are with them now,” she said, feeling like she was practically issuing him an invitation to strip her and take her right here in the no longer open field because it was teaming with people, probably many of them acquaintances, and packed with trailers and motorhomes of rodeo competitors and support staff.

  “In that case…” He looped the two long ropes of red licorice around her neck and let them dangle.

  Tanner’s heart galloped and her stomach dropped as the words hung, suspended in the air between them, drawn out, and she felt she was holding her breath.

  “Yes,” she said, nibbling on her lip nervously, not sure if she were making a statement or asking a question.

  She’d never wanted a man so much. It was unnerving. The want. It was alive, clawing through her body, and it put her in a very vulnerable position. The want made her so unequal because no way could Luke Wilder, All-around cowboy who rode broncos and bulls like other men rode bikes, be that into her. Even her fantasies weren’t that ambitious.

  Luke unlocked the door to his Airstream trailer. He swung it open and Tanner walked in her insides burbling with excitement, desire, and nerves.

  “Listen…” She grabbed his belt buckle. “I know women probably say this a lot to you, but I don’t do this often,” she said in a rush, trying to moisten suddenly dry lips.

  “Cowgirl”—he put his hands on her hips—“I’m not interested in what other women do or don’t do or say or don’t say. It’s just you and me here, and I don’t have any expectations so don’t worry and don’t drag any pasts in here.”

  She swallowed hard. God, she was so bad at this, and he was just so good. Kind in a way not a lot of men had been kind to her. It was ridiculous, really. He was so far out of her league he was a different sport, and she was going to blow it by chickening out and dumping all her insecurity in front of him. How had her friend Talon tossed aside every fear and jumped into bed with the Colt after a little more than twenty-four hours? Where could Tanner find some of that brashness?

  “This is more like something my sister, my twin would do,” she said staring at his shirtfront and tangling her fingers in the fabric between his western-style buttons.

  He captured her fingers and brought them to his mouth. He kissed each one slowly until she raised her eyes to his. She felt warm and reassured. The caramel of his eyes made her feel like she was melting.

  “Definitely not interested in your sister. It’s just us, Tanner,” he said, and she noticed he had kept the trailer door open. “Your sister’s not here. And if she were, I’d tell her to get the hell out except more politely if you wanted me to.”

  She smiled. “I’m being stupid.”

  “No.” He stepped in closer, pulled off her hat, and put it carefully on the counter by the small sink. “Just maybe jumping ahead of ourselves. There’s no rush.” He smiled, and her heart flipped over. “We can talk. Listen to music. I’ve seen some of your moves with a broom.” He turned her and did a gentle quickstep around the small area of the trailer’s living space.

  He pulled her hips in to tightly align with his. She could feel his hard length, and the longing that swept through her stole her breath. She was being stupid. She really, really liked him. And IBR business or not, Luke Wilder was a nice guy. He was kind and fun and beautiful and he wouldn’t have sex with her and then not look at her bulls objectively. She just knew it. He radiated respect and honesty in a way not a lot of people had in her life.

  “Smooth moves, cowboy.” She tugged him closer and found herself pressed up against the table. She plucked his hat off and put it on her head then stood on her tiptoes, spearing her fingers through his hair. “Widow’s peaks are totally genetic.” She mused, her eyes roving over his thick, springy hair and carved features. “Although it is a myth that it is controlled by one gene with two alleles, and I love how your hair grows back from your forehead,” she said lightly, pretending to be less affected than she was.

  She traced his widow’s peak and resisted the urge to wrap herself around him, hook her leg around his waist, and align her body with all that hard, hot masculinity. “I bet all the buckle bunnies say that.” She teased.

  He made a face, and she mentally kicked herself.

  “It doesn’t matter what other women have and haven’t said but, for the record, no one’s even mentioned the whatever that word was about my hairline.”

  Insecure much?

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been with a few guys in college and grad school. Just no one as innately masculine as Luke. And, to be honest, which she brutally was with herself all the time, no one she’d been this madly attracted to. And for so long. She’d done a summer college internship at a huge ranching operation well outside of Denver and part of her job had been traveling the Mountain circuit, and she’d first seen Luke hop off a bull after the buzzer, briefly grin at the crowd, and not even look at his score before he swung himself over the fence back into the staging area. He’d known he’d killed
. He’d known he’d jumped far out into first place. He’d gotten the job done and he walked by her with his smooth walk and a head nod that had made her weak-kneed. She’d seen him ride in other rodeos and each time he was a thing of beauty, and she’d been back stage after each ride, eating him up with her eyes, and yet he hadn’t remembered seeing her, even being briefly introduced to her during a meet and greet with the stock contractors.

  Well, she smiled up into those melting golden eyes. She was going to make sure he remembered her this time.

  “So, cowboy…” She let her thumb trace his bottom lip and he sucked it into his mouth.

  Desire shot straight through her. With her other hand, she tucked her finger between the snaps on his Western shirt and popped one open, let her finger brush against his warm chest before she slid lower and popped another snap open.

  He was beautiful. Honey golden, smooth chest, and lightly ripped. Nothing too bulgy like he sweated it out at a gym, but not an ounce of extra fat that she could see. And she was looking. She placed her palm on his tight, toned abs, wondered if she had the nerve to use the licorice, and decided maybe she should wait a bit on that. “You got any more moves you want to show me, cowboy?”

  Her voice had gone husky and her hand trembled.

  He covered her hand with his, and leaned forward, his golden eyes burning. A sound escaped from the back of her throat like he was unlocking her soul, she thought more than a little dramatically.

  He kicked the trailer door shut. Flipped the lock.

  “Tanner.” He cupped her jaw with one palm and his fingers tugged at her braid to pull her head back a bit. “I’ll show you anything you want.”

  Best answer ever.

  And that was the last gasp of her brain synapses as Luke’s lips parted hers, his tongue sliding in to tease the seam of her mouth. His hands trailed fire down her body and she tugged his shirt aside so she could run her palms over his chest, and his shoulders, and his back, and she still didn’t get enough. She eased the fabric away from his shoulders kissing him, loving the flex of his defined muscles.

  The heat from his skin. She pressed a line of kisses across his hammering heart before tonging his nipple. He groaned her name and pulled her hair out of its elastic and ran his fingers through her hair.