Cowboy Wilde (Cooper's Hawke Landing Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “Is that what happened to you and your husband? Your heart changed?”

  “I’d say our lives were like a puzzle and when it shifted we lost our way.” Her smile looked forced. “We should probably get the rest of the bags.”

  They strolled together to grab the last of the load, but he grabbed them before she could.

  “Do you miss your wife?” she asked. She must have sensed his trepidation. “Come on, I revealed a little of myself.”

  Don’t tell her. Keep it locked inside. But he couldn’t. “I caught her cheating with my best buddy.” There, the words were out, and he was still standing on his feet. Saying them aloud didn’t hurt as much as he thought they would.

  “I know you’ve probably heard this a time or two, but she didn’t deserve you, and neither did your friend.”

  He didn’t want anyone’s sympathy, but when he locked gazes with Grace, he could see the sincerity there and it hooked him in the chest. He hadn’t talked with anyone, not even his mother. What everyone else knew was what they’d heard through the grapevine. “I lost my wife. My buddy. And later my dad. Sometimes it’s easy to believe that everything I care about eventually leaves.” Wanting—no, needing—to change the subject, he asked, “So, you think this place needs color?”

  “As much as a newborn kitten needs milk. Trust me, after it’s all done, you’re going to thank me.” The genuine smile returned some. “I know you said there’s no time for a day off, but Chynna mentioned the Cooper’s Hawk annual festival. I thought, if possible, I’d like to go.”

  “Sure.” He chuckled when her eyes widened. “We can’t miss the festival. It’s a hallmark of the town.”

  “I haven’t been to a festival in years. I love cotton candy and you know those brats that are piled high with peppers and onions. I’d love to try fried cookies too.”

  His stomach growled. Would it be rude of him to ask about dinner? His ma would tar and feather him if he did anything offensive. She wouldn’t care that he was an adult. “I should be getting back to work.” He tipped his worn hat. “See you later for dinner.” He started for the house when he heard her say…

  “I have plans this evening.”

  He turned and lifted a brow. “Plans?”

  “With a friend.” She clasped her hands. “I’ll make you dinner, but I won’t be here.”

  He wanted to pry, ask questions, but he couldn’t as much as he wanted to. Forcing a smile, he turned and headed toward work.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “THANK YOU FOR joining me.”

  “I’m glad I did. You were right, it was the best pizza I’ve ever had.” She looked across the seat at Mug.

  “I hope the company wasn’t too bad either.”

  “The company was splendid.” And she meant it. He was funny, intelligent and had many stories of his life adventures. She also appreciated that he hadn’t made a single move that would have made things awkward between them. “Have a safe trip home.” She climbed out of the passenger seat of his truck, closed the door, and waved.

  The truck pulled away and she naturally glanced across the yard to the guest house. A light was still on. She turned to start for the porch, but something tugged her to take the path that could change things between her and Ruger. She didn’t owe him an explanation, but she wanted to give him one.

  Dew had settled on the grass and by the time she made it to the guest house her sandaled feet were soaked. At the door, she hesitated, rethinking the next step a dozen times before she finally gave in and knocked softly.

  The door came open and her breath held. Ruger was shirtless, his jeans were left unbuttoned like he’d heard the knock and dragged them on. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she said back. “Were you asleep?”

  “Almost. Come in?” His brow lifted.

  “I shouldn’t. I just wanted to say…” Suddenly the words jammed in her throat. She hadn’t planned this out very far.

  “Yeah?” He chuckled.

  “I guess I just wanted to let you know that I was home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She quickly turned and practically ran up the path to the main house. What had she been thinking? She’d almost made it when she heard a noise behind her, gave a slight squeal as she felt a grip on her wrist…

  ~~~~~

  Ruger paced the floor for the hundredth time since he’d watched Grace being picked up by Mug. He stopped and glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed. It wasn’t late but it sure felt like months since she left.

  He was driving himself insane. Over what?

  Tearing a hand through his hair, he gritted his teeth.

  What was the driving feeling in his gut? Like someone had wound barbed wire around his heart.

  Going over to the bed, he dragged his jeans off and climbed under the sheet. He stared at the ceiling, feeling wide awake.

  Headlights flashed through the window and he pulled back the curtain to look out. He couldn’t see anything but a silhouette of a truck.

  Rubbing his forehead, he stepped back, feeling some of the tension ease from his muscles. At least she was back.

  Now maybe he could get some shut eye.

  A soft knock came on his door.

  It had to be Grace.

  Grabbing his jeans off the floor, he slammed his feet inside the holes and hurried to pull them up, not bothering with the zipper or button. Strolling to the door, he swung it open and his breath stilled in his tight lungs. Grace stood on his porch and she was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. She was a heavenly vision to his weary eyes. He had a strong urge to wrap his arms around her and kiss her, but would she reject him? Why was she here?

  They exchanged some words that he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around because his attention was on how silky her hair looked. The pale pink of her plush lips and the subtle quiver of her bottom lip. The neck of the gauzy top swept across her chest, exposing a sliver of the tops of her breasts. Something changed in him. A link of the chain he’d used to protect himself broke.

  Grace turned and he watched her disappear into the darkness.

  Why was he allowing his past to dictate his future?

  Before he thought over his next action, he hurried after her. He reached out, took her wrist and pulled her around to face him. The moon offered a sliver of light and he could see the shock on her expression. It matched the uprooted feeling inside his chest. He didn’t say a word but bent and kissed her, sipping at the erotic taste of her.

  He pulled back, smiling. “Good night.” He left her there while he went back into the guest house.

  Sometimes words weren’t enough…

  CHAPTER TEN

  THERE WAS SOMETHING about a pretty sundress that could make a woman feel feminine—and a stolen kiss under the moonlight. She touched her lips where warmth remained from the night before.

  Grace moved around the kitchen while the thin maxi skirt she’d purchased at Shay’s boutique floated about her bare ankles. She stopped in front of the open window above the sink and the fresh air cooled her skin as the breeze caught tendrils of her hair that had fallen from her messy top knot. There was a break in the storms and the cooler temperature gave a nice change to the heat. She scrubbed the last potato and dropped it with the others for another meal, turned off the water, and took a sip of the wine she’d poured herself.

  Stepping over to drain the spaghetti she then added it to the sauce.

  For the last few hours she’d listened to the whirring of power drills, the pounding of hammers, and Ruger singing along with the music playing from the radio while he worked in the house and she painted.

  She’d showered, applied a light lotion to her bronzed skin, and dressed.

  Grace rinsed the lettuce while watching the tomcat, Fritz, sitting on a fence hunting his supper. Roscoe was sitting on the back step watching Grace through the window. She left her task, grabbed one of the dog treats she bought at the market and took it out to him, giving him a scratch behind the ears.

  “It’s a beautiful evening
, isn’t it, boy?” She inhaled the fresh scent of rain. She loved the thunderstorms and how it washed away everything, making it new again.

  Roscoe’s ears perked as he munched the crunchy treat.

  The cat pounced on something, caught it in his jaws and scurried away to eat in peace.

  Grace went back inside the kitchen to finish the salad and realized Ruger was no longer in the house. He must have gone to get cleaned up for dinner. While the lettuce drained, she peeled and sliced vegetables, then started on a cucumber, occupied with her thoughts until she heard a clearing of a throat behind her. She looked up to find Ruger casually leaning against the doorframe. His hat was missing and he’d changed into a clean button-down shirt. His peppered whiskers remained.

  “Am I too early?” he asked in a husky, warm tone.

  “Give me ten more minutes.” She noticed that he scanned the table set for one.

  “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I’ll eat something after you’re finished.” After the kiss last night the lines were blurred, and she needed to understand where he stood.

  “That won’t do.” He covered the kitchen in three strides, took down another plate and set it on the table. “What sense would it make for us to eat alone?”

  There was something intimate about seeing the two plates on the table, but not as intimate as the memory of his soft lips on hers. Picking up her glass, she emptied it one gulp, feeling a pool of warmth in the center of her stomach. His presence spread the scorching heat deeper south, to a part of her that needed attention. “Would you like a glass of wine?” she offered, wanting another for herself.

  “It’s been a long day. I need something stronger.” He stepped near her and for a second she thought he might kiss her. The hair stood on her neck. Their gazes met and her nipples tingled in anticipation. He stood so close…then he said, “Excuse me. I need to get into that cabinet.”

  Feeling a flush of humiliation and disappointment, she stepped to the left as he took down a full, unlabeled bottle from the top shelf.

  He swirled the amber contents and grinned. “Want some?”

  “Whiskey?”

  “The last of Pa’s stash.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but why not? What would it hurt? Maybe the whiskey would relax her a little. “Sure.”

  A moment later he handed her a mason jar with a small amount of whiskey. She sipped the smooth liquor. “Wow. That’s good.”

  “Only the best will do.” He emptied his glass and poured himself another.

  She placed her jar next to the cutting board and focused on finishing slicing the cucumber into even pieces. He made her nervous—or rather let loose the butterflies inside her stomach. “How about you stir the spaghetti for me.”

  “I can do that.” His shoulder brushed her as he took his place in front of the stove.

  Finally getting to the end of the vegetable, she tossed the slices into a bowl and turned, staring at his broad back. “How’s it coming?”

  “I’m getting hungrier by the minute.”

  “Let’s find out if it needs anything more.” She took a fork from the drawer and swirled the spaghetti around the tines. “Will you taste for me.”

  “Sure.”

  She fed him the sample. “Well? Be honest. I won’t get my feelings hurt.”

  “Here. You try.” He took the fork, grabbed some of the pasta and blew on it.

  Her nipples blossomed into buds as she took his offering. Sharing the fork with him was such an innocent act, and yet caused an upheaval inside her. Then she realized the pasta was terrible. “Oh my. That’s awful.” Her shoulders slumped as she forced the pasta down her throat. She swallowed a gulp of the whiskey.

  “Don’t give up just yet. Watching Ma cook I learned a few things.” Searching through the variety of spices she’d bought, he found the bottles he was looking for and sprinkled the pasta liberally. Then he grabbed the bowl of butter, scooped out a generous helping and dropped it in as well. He stirred and winked. “Now try.”

  Fearing there was no hope, she gave it another taste. “That’s good. Exceptionally good.”

  “We make a good team. Here. You have a little bit of sauce on your lip.”

  Before she could clean it herself, he swept his wide thumb across her bottom lip. Desire as well as a primal feeling filled her.

  A tug of something powerful made her stand on her tiptoes and, without overthinking something for once, she kissed him. It was a quick kiss, a sample of his plush, warm lips that were amazingly soft for such a rugged cowboy. “That tastes good too,” she whispered.

  A growl rolled from deep inside his throat and she let out a surprised squeal when he grabbed her hips, pulling her against the hard plane of his iron-hard body. His mouth descended upon hers in a powerful taking. His tongue slipped inside and she whimpered in need. Burying her hands in his thick hair, she loved the feel of the satin, loved feeling his large hands cradling her bottom.

  Popping sounds followed by a stinging sensation on her arm made her jerk away. The sauce was bubbling and splashing onto the stove and her skin. “Oh no!” She took the pan off the heat and set it on a cold burner. “I don’t want to ruin dinner.”

  The tip of his tongue came out to sweep across his thick lower lip. “Trust me, it’s not ruined.”

  His words made her heart skip a beat or two…or three or four.

  She went back to focus on the salad, adding a handful of cheese. “I’ve been wondering, am I cramping your style by being here?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Hesitating, she finally said, “A man like you must date. What will all the single ladies think with the two of us living alone out here on the ranch?” Why did this matter? Because it did and she couldn’t deny it. What was she hoping for?

  “I don’t date.”

  Tossing the salad, she breathed in an ounce of bravery. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but that’s the first kiss I’ve shared since my husband—my ex-husband and I divorced.”

  “I’m flattered.” The rich raspiness of his tone caused a rippling of longing she hadn’t felt in so long.

  “Grace,” he blew out a low, ragged breath. “I think it’s important that we’re careful. I have to get this place up and running soon and I can’t allow anything to sidetrack me.”

  “Careful?” the word escaped on a moan.

  “We barely know one another…”

  If he’d smacked her it wouldn’t have hurt any worse. A man couldn’t kiss a woman and then deny her.

  Lifting her chin, she planted a smile on her face and pushed down the constriction in her throat. “I wasn’t sure if you prefer ranch or Italian dressing, so I set them both out,” she said in a surprising even tone.

  “Either is fine.”

  Sprinkling freshly grated parmesan on top of the salad, she set the bowl in the center of the table. “If you’ll go ahead and spoon out some of the salad, I’ll grab the spaghetti.” She did a great job at hiding her hurt. In fact, she was probably a pro at hiding her sore feelings.

  Taking a seat across from him, she crossed her legs under the table and kept her attention on filling her plate. She smiled when he sprinkled his spaghetti liberally with cheese.

  When he saw her watching him, he added, “It’s a habit since I was a kid. I like cheese.”

  “It hides the fact that the pasta is overdone. I can’t even prepare eggs without messing them up.” She twirled pasta around her fork.

  “Really? And yet you took a job as a cook.” There was no animosity in his tone.

  “I have a confession.” She laid her fork down. “I’m not—”

  “A good cook?” He forked some salad and shoved it into his mouth. “This isn’t bad.”

  She missed her chance to blurt the truth. “No one can screw up a salad.” Her shoulders automatically slumped some.

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.” He stabbed a tomato and popped it into his mouth. Then he reached for the dr
essing bottle and poured it over the top of the salad in his bowl.

  “I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” She quickly realized this wasn’t about the food. She sipped the whiskey, liking how it made her feel. Some of the demons in her head were drunk.

  “Good thing I’m not too particular.” He must have realized what he said, because he winced. “I didn’t mean that this isn’t good. Truly I didn’t. I’m only saying, I’ve been on my own for a while now and if I can stomach freezer meals, I can handle just about anything.” He didn’t make things any better.

  Running the tip of her finger around the rim of her jar, she met his gaze, feeling confident under the seduction of the alcohol. “So, here’s a personal question.” Seeing his frown, she laughed. “Relax. It’s not too personal. I’m simply curious if your family and friends try to fix you up at every turn? Mine certainly do. It’s as if we wear a badge with our relationship status.”

  Some relief came to his expression. “Yeah, why does anyone give a hoot what I’m doing? It’s as if they think a new relationship can fix everything.” He blew out a long breath.

  “There are some things about a new relationship that can take away the pain. Of course, how would I know?” She laughed, realizing she might be a little drunk. “My sister has taken it upon herself to be my own personal cupid.”

  “So…that’s the reason why you decided to come all the way out here to Montana, to get away from an overbearing sister? After all, it wasn’t for the job, right?”

  A nice smile that he should show off more often appeared on his handsome face. There was so much about him that left her curious, like a fascinating book she couldn’t put down. She knew about his failed marriage, his betrayal from his best friend, and the loss of his father, but what made him tick? What was underneath all the brawn and good looks? “Honestly, part of the reason, yes. Since we were kids, Emily has always thought she needed to take care of me and after….” The words stalled on her tongue. She danced with the desire to tell him the truth. Once she did would he feel sorry for her? Look at her like a pathetic case? As if sorrow had made her fragile.