A Real Cowboy Always Trusts His Heart

by Stephanie Rowe

  "It's fine." She shrugged, tracing her fingers over the condensation on the bottle. "I was a little desperate, so Emma said I could stay here until I figure things out, because it was empty." She glanced at him, and cocked a sassy eyebrow at him. "She didn't realize, however, that Harlan had given you the keys. That phone call I just answered? That was Emma calling to warn me that you were already living here. Of course, being the intelligent woman that I am, I had already figured that out."

  "You were planning to stay here?" Guilt shot through Blue. There was no chance in hell he was stealing her safe house. He stood up. "No problem. It'll take me five minutes to pack, and the place is all yours." He set his beer on the counter of the kitchenette, and strode across the room to where his duffel was stashed. "I've already been here two days, and I told Harlan I wasn't staying any longer than that—"

  "Whoa." She stood up just as quickly, her hand going to his arm as he passed.

  He froze, his senses flashing to awareness at the feel of her touch. Her fingers were gentle, barely there, and yet he couldn't move away from her. He took a breath, and turned his head to look at her. "It's okay," he said softly. "The place is yours—"

  "No, I don't need it. Emma found another place, one that's in town, which I would prefer anyway." She rolled her eyes. "I was never a huge nature girl, but after tonight, I think I'd lie in bed all night waiting for the boogie man to get me if I stayed here. It's all good."

  "But you'll have to pay for that one, right?" He didn't move away from her touch, and she didn't take her hand away either.

  Her face softened. "It's very sweet of you to be concerned about that, but the answer is no, actually. You know how Harlan is a real estate agent in his spare time?" At his nod, she continued on. "He has a vacant listing that's for sale, but the owners said I could stay there for free while it's on the market. They figure it'll help sell if the windows are opened and the mustiness is aired out, so I'm good. That's where you're driving me tonight, unless you can work magic with my car."

  He grimaced. "I don't want to complicate things for you—"

  "It's not complicating anything," she interrupted. "Seriously, this works out better for me." She patted his arm. "But I appreciate your willingness to surrender the cabin to me." Her smile faded. "It's nice. Nice is good."

  He still didn't move. "I'm not nice."

  She raised her brows. "No?"

  "No." Her face was so close to his. Only inches away. Her mouth...it was insanely tempting. He imagined brushing a kiss over her forehead. Across her cheeks. Against the corner of her mouth.

  Her eyes widened, and she caught her breath. Suddenly, that same tension that had been strung so tight when they'd first walked in was back, only this time, it hummed with higher intensity, like the eerie silence when a night was too still, indicating that all hell was about to break loose.

  He brushed his fingers along her jaw, and she froze, not even breathing. "Would it be inappropriate to kiss you right now?"

  "Yes." She blurted out the answer before he'd finished asking the question. "Don't kiss me." But she didn't retreat, or even turn her head away from the brush of his fingers along her jaw. "Don't even think about it."

  He shrugged. "Can't help thinking about it."

  "Well, find a way." She swallowed hard.

  "Can't." Silently, he moved his hands so his fingers were resting on her throat. The frantic fluttering of her pulse was like a butterfly beneath his touch, delicate, untamed, and beautiful. "You could stay here instead of going into town tonight."

  Her eyes widened. "Stay here? With you?"

  "Yeah." He ran his fingers along her collarbone, tracing the delicate curve of her body.

  She closed her eyes, inhaling sharply at his touch, leaning into him ever so slightly. "Never."

  "Why not?" He wanted to kiss that fluttering pulse in her throat. He wanted to trace it with his lips, and his tongue. He wanted to taste her lips.

  "Because—" She stopped, her breath catching again as he bent his head and pressed a feather-light kiss to the delicate skin of her throat. "Oh, God. Really? You had to do that?"

  "Yeah, I did. Your throat was calling to me. Didn't you hear it? It was whispering my name. Blue, kiss me. Blue, kiss me now."

  She made a strangled noise that sounded like a cross between laughter and disgusted, skeptical scorn. "My body would never beg for a man's kiss. Ever. You're delusional."

  "Probably." He pressed another kiss to her collarbone, and her fingers tightened on his arm, where they were still resting from her initial contact. "But as delusions go, it's an extremely pleasant one, so I'm just going to go with it." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Can you hear it? Now it's your cheek whispering to me. Blue. Kiss me."

  "My cheek is not saying that—" He brushed a kiss over her left cheekbone. "Damn you," she whispered.

  He bent his head, so his lips were hovering over hers. "What about your lips? Can you hear them whispering?"

  "They're telling you to stop bugging me." But her fingers continued to grip his arm, and she didn't pull away.

  "What about the corner of your mouth? Right here?" He kissed the spot in question.

  She tightened her grip on his arm. "Oh, yeah, maybe there. That might have been saying something to you."

  "And this corner?" He tried the other.

  She made a small noise of pleasure that made him grin. "It's a distinct possibility," she muttered. "But only because that particular corner of my mouth is stupid, irresponsible, and a glutton for situations that would leave it strewn across the highway in a thousand shattered pieces."

  He slid his hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in the strands. "No need for shattered pieces," he said gently. "I can't have any of that when I'm around. I'm a sucker for picking up broken pieces and trying to glue them back together. I can't ever leave them scattered around. It's against my nature." His lips brushed hers, barely, just a whispered touch that made visceral longing course through him, tightening every muscle in his body. "I need to kiss you, Chloe. Like my life fucking depends on it."

  Her eyes snapped open, and she searched his face. He knew he'd sounded too desperate, but he didn't pull back. He let her see the raw, brokenness of his soul. He let her see it, because she'd already ripped away his shields, leaving him with no defenses.

  "Kiss me, Blue," she whispered. "Kiss me, now."

  "Chloe." With a low groan, he closed the distance between them, and claimed her mouth with his own.

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  Sneak Peek: Darkness Awakened

  Order of the Blade Series, Book 1

  "What a mesmerizing story." ~Voracious Reader (Amazon Review)

  When his blood brother goes missing, immortal warrior Quinn Masters will break every rule of his kind to save him, including teaming up with the sensuous, courageous woman destined to be his ultimate destruction.

  Quinn Masters raced soundlessly through the thick woods, his injuries long forgotten, urgency coursing through him as he neared his house. He covered the last thirty yards, leapt over a fallen tree, then reached the edge of the clearing by his cabin.

  There she was.

  He stopped dead, fading back into the trees as he stared at the woman he'd scented when he was still two hours away, a lure that had eviscerated all weakness from his body and fueled him into a dead sprint back to his house.

  His lungs heaving with the effort of pushing his severely damaged body so hard, Quinn stood rigidly as he studied the woman whose scent had called to him through the dark night. She'd yanked him out of his thoughts about Elijah and galvanized him with energy he hadn't been able to summon on his own.

  And now he'd found her.

  She'd wedged herself up against the back corner of his porch, barely protected from the cold rain and wet wind. Her knees were pulled up against her chest, her delicate arms wrapped tightly around them as if she could hold onto her body heat by sheer force of will. Her shoulders were hunched, her forehead pressed agai
nst her knees while damp tangles of dark brown hair tumbled over her arms.

  Her chest moved once. Twice. A trembling, aching breath into lungs that were too cold and too exhausted to work as well as they should.

  He took a step toward her, and another, then three more before he realized what he was doing. He froze, suddenly aware of his urgent need to get to her. To help her. To fill her with heat and breathe safety into her trembling body. To whisk her off his porch and into his cabin.

  Into his bed.

  Quinn stiffened at the thought. Into his bed? Since when? He didn't engage when it came to women. Not anymore. The risk was too high, for him, and for all Calydons. Any woman he met could be his mate, his fate, his doom. His sheva.

  He was never tempted.

  Until now.

  Until this cold, vulnerable stranger had appeared inexplicably on his doorstep. He should be pulling out his sword, not thinking that the fastest way to get her warm would be to run his hands over her bare skin and infuse her whole body with the heat from his.

  But his sword remained quiet. His instincts warned him of nothing.

  What the hell was going on? She had to be a threat. Nothing else made sense. Women didn't stumble onto his home, and he didn't get a hard-on from simply catching a whiff of one from miles away.

  His aching quads braced against the cold air, he inhaled her scent again, searching for answers to a thousand questions. She smelled delicate, with a hint of something sweet, and a flavoring of the bitterness of true desperation. He could practically taste her anguish, a cold, acrid weight in the air, and he knew she was in trouble.

  His hands flexed with the need to close the distance between them, to crouch by her side, to give her his protection. But he didn't move. He didn't dare. He had to figure out why he was so compelled by her, why he was responding like this, especially at a time when he couldn't afford any distraction.

  She moaned softly and curled into an even tighter ball. His muscles tightened, his entire soul burning with the need to help her. Quinn narrowed his eyes and pried his gaze off her to search the woods.

  With the life of his blood brother in his hands, an Order posse soon to be after him, and his own body still half in the grave, he should be so focused on business that a woman could dance naked on his chest and he still wouldn't notice. It shouldn't be possible for a woman he didn't even know, hadn't met and barely even seen to rock him on his ass like this simply because he'd caught a whiff of her scent.

  He was disciplined, dammit, and disciplined warriors didn't fall for that shit. It made no sense.

  His intense need for her felt too similar to the compulsion that had sent him to the river three nights ago. Another trap? He'd suspected it from the moment he'd first reacted to her scent, but he'd been unable to resist the temptation, and he'd hauled ass to get back to his house. Yeah, true, he'd also needed to get back to his cabin to retrieve his supplies to go after Elijah. The fact she'd imbued him with new strength had been a bonus he wasn't going to deny.

  But now he had to be sure. A trap or not? Quinn laughed softly. Shit. He hoped it was. If it wasn't, there was only one other reason he could think that could explain his reaction to her, and that would be if she was his mate. His sheva. His ticket to certain destruction.

  No chance.

  He wouldn't allow it.

  He had no time for dealing with that destiny right now. It was time to get in, get out, and go after Elijah. His amusement faded as he took a final survey of the woods. There was no lurking threat he could detect. Maybe he'd made it back before he'd been expected, or maybe an ambush had been aborted.

  Either way, he had to get into his house, get his stuff, and move on. His gaze returned to the woman, and he noticed a drop of water sliding down the side of her neck, trickling over her skin like the most seductive of caresses. He swore, realizing she wasn't going to leave. She'd freeze to death before she'd abandon her perch.

  He cursed again and knew he had to go to her. He couldn't let her die on his front step. Not this woman. Not her.

  He would make it fast, he would make it efficient, he would stay on target for his mission, but he would get her safe.

  Keeping alert for any indication that this was a setup, Quinn stepped out of the woods and into the clearing. He'd made no sound, not even a whisper of his clothing, and yet she sensed him.

  She sat up, her gaze finding him instantly in the dim light, despite his stealthy approach. They made eye contact, and the world seemed to stop for a split second. The moment he saw those silvery eyes, something thumped in his chest. Something visceral and male howled inside him, raging to be set free.

  As he strode up, she unfolded herself from her cramped position and pulled herself to her feet, her gaze never leaving his. Her face was wary, her body tense, but she lifted her chin ever so slightly and set her hands on her hips, telling him that she wasn't leaving.

  Her courage and determination, held together by that tiny, shivering frame, made satisfaction thud through him. There was a warrior in that slim, exhausted body.

  She said nothing as he approached, and neither of them spoke as he came to a stop in front of her.

  Up close, he was riveted. Her dark eyelashes were clumped from the rain. Her skin was pale, too pale. Her face was carrying the burden of a thousand weights. But beneath that pain, those nightmares, that hell, lay delicate femininity that called to him. The luminescent glow of her skin, the sensual curve of her mouth, the sheen of rain on her cheekbones, the simple silver hoops in her ears. It awoke in him something so male, so carnal, so primal he wanted to throw her up against the wall and consume her until their bodies were melted together in a single, scorching fire.

  She searched his face with the same intensity raging through him, and he felt like she was tearing through his shields, cataloguing everything about him, all the way down to his soul.

  He studied her carefully, and she let him, not flinching when his gaze traveled down her body. His blood pulsed as he noted the curve of her breasts under her rain-slicked jacket, the sensuous curve of her hips, and even the mud on her jeans and boots. He almost groaned at his need to palm her hips, drag her over to him, and mark her with his kiss. Loose strands of thick dark hair curled around her neck and shoulders like it was clinging to her for safety.

  Protectiveness surged from deep inside him and he clenched his fists against the urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her inside, away from whatever hardships had brought her to his doorstep.

  Double hell. He'd hoped his reaction would lessen when he got close to her, but it had intensified. He'd never felt like this before. Never had this response to a woman.

  What the hell was going on? Sheva. The word was like a demon, whispering through his mind. He shut it out. He would never allow himself to bond with his mate. If that was what was going on, she was out of there immediately, before they were both destroyed forever.

  Intent on sending her away, he looked again at her face, and then realized he was irrevocably ensnared. Her beautiful silver eyes were aching with a soul-deep pain that shattered what little defenses he had against her. He simply couldn't abandon her.

  It didn't matter what she wanted. It didn't matter why she was there. She was coming inside. He would make sure it didn't interfere with his mission. He would make dead sure it turned out right. No matter what.

  Without a word, he grabbed her backpack off the floor, surprised at how heavy it was. Either she had tossed her free weights in it, or she had packed her life into it.

  He had a bad feeling it wasn't a set of dumbbells.

  Quinn walked past her and unlocked his front door. He shoved it open, then stood back. Letting her decide. Hoping she would walk away and spare them both.

  She took a deep breath, glanced at his face one more time, then walked into the cabin.

  Hell.

  He paused to take one more survey of his woods, found nothing amiss, and then he followed her into his home and shut the door behind the
m.

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  A Quick Favor

  Hi! It’s Stephanie.

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  Thank you so much for allowing me to tell this story that means so much to me. I appreciate you taking the time out of your life and offering a piece of yourself to these words and these pages.

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  Love,

  Stephanie

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