A Real Cowboy Knows How to Kiss (5 page)

She felt heat rise in her cheeks. "I don't—"

"No." He shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's incredible. I never want you to look at me any other way. It needs to stay that way. I need it to stay that way." He raised her hand to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "I'll freeze the expression on your face right now for the rest of my life, so that it's imprinted in my mind forever. Thank you for that. I wish you every last bit of good luck and good fortune with your life, wherever it takes you when you leave here."

For a moment, she forgot to breathe, stunned by the feel of his kiss. He smiled faintly, a smile of lost time and old memories, as he brushed his fingers over her cheek. Then, abruptly, he dropped his hand, turned, and walked back to the trailer and out of her life.

Again.

Steen leaned back against the chimney of the bunkhouse, clasping his hands behind his head as he watched the sun set over the hills. The roof was cool and hard, and it felt good, just uncomfortable enough to remind him he was alive.

So…Erin Chambers was a vet. He smiled, a deep sense of satisfaction pulsing through him. He'd always figured she'd succumb to her potential and run a billion dollar company somewhere. It had pissed him off to think of her selling out, and now he didn't have to have that on his list of things to hate about the world anymore. Erin had somehow stayed true to herself and had become a vet.

Damn.

Seeing her today had made things feel right in his world, even if it was just for a minute. His smile faded as he thought of the way she'd looked. Those jeans had fit her like pure sin, and the mud on her shirt had been sexy as hell. Her eyes had been vulnerable and honest when she'd watched him. Shit. He could still feel the heat from her gaze as she'd stared at him, the hunger in her eyes so obvious that it had taken all his willpower not to slide his finger along her jaw and take her mouth with his. She was all female, awakening every possessive and predatory male instinct he owned. He'd never reacted so strongly to a woman as he had today.

He'd wanted to pin her against that rusted truck with his body and sink his hips against hers. He'd burned to feel the softness of her body against his, to feel the curve of her hips beneath his palms. He'd wanted nothing more than to angle his head and kiss her. Not just a kiss. He'd wanted to breathe her soul into his, and wrap his entire being around hers, protecting her from how shitty the world really was.

He'd always felt protective of her, but today? Today had been about her as a woman, and him as a man. It had been pure desire, the kind of need that wound up with nakedness and endless nights of loving. He grinned, clasping his hands behind his head as he stretched his legs out on the shingled roof and thought about Erin. For four years in prison, he'd never had a moment like this. A moment of simply being still, without looking over his shoulder, thinking about something that made him smile.

Hell, there hadn't been anything to think about that would make him smile.

Not that he cared about the void that had been his life for so long.

It had been worth it to wait for this moment. He hadn't been lying when he said he'd remember the expression on her face for the rest of his life. He wasn't a prince, and he wasn't a good guy, but hell, to have Erin looking at him as if he was…it made him feel like maybe there was a chance there was something good left inside him.

He looked out across the ranch, his vantage point giving him a good view across the acreage. A few horses were grazing in a distant field, beside a massive rock he remembered sitting on as a kid, when he'd gotten pissed at Chase for dragging him out here to work on the ranch. He'd used the rock as a place to go when he was mad, but the truth was, he'd liked being on that rock. He liked being where no one could lay a hand on him or get in his face. Like now. On this roof, no one was in his space, and he hadn't had that for a long time. Four long years, to be exact.

"Steen?" A voice that felt distantly familiar caught his attention.

He looked down to see a woman standing in the dirt outside the bunk house, her belly sticking out so far it looked like she'd shoved a bowling ball under her shirt. She was wearing black leggings and sneakers, as if she were about to head off to a yoga class, not traipse around a ranch dodging dung. "Yeah?"

"I'm Mira Cabot, Chase's fiancée. He asked me to come out and tell you dinner's ready, if you want to come up to the main house and eat with us."

He sat up abruptly, studying her. So, this was Mira Cabot, the woman who had dragged him back from the edge of death? He didn't recognize her at all…except her voice. It seemed to settle around him like something soft and warm, and he knew he'd heard her talking to him that day in the hospital. He'd been consumed by the urgent need to find her and ask her what she'd said, but now that he could see her, he wasn't sure he wanted to. She looked like a normal person, not some soothsayer who had gifted him with some deep wisdom. He'd waited so long to ask her…and now…something in his gut knew that whatever she had to say wasn't going to live up to what was in his mind. So he shrugged casually, dismissing her invitation to dinner. "Thanks, but I'm all set. I don't need anything."

"Really?" She set her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "You're way too thin, your face is pale, and your cheeks are sunken. You look suspiciously like someone who almost died from a stab wound not too long ago, who bailed from the hospital before he was supposed to. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that eating is a basic requirement to healing."

He stared at her, dread leaping through him at her comment. How much did she know? Yeah, he'd been in the prison hospital for a while, and then back in his cell, but recovery was slow in prison, especially since he'd been in bad shape before the injury, surgery, and then the complications had knocked him further on his ass. But before the panic could set in, he realized that she couldn't know his secrets. She was just being herself, irreverent and irritating…and perfectly her. He grinned, despite his crankiness. "You talk to Chase like that?"

"Only when he's pulling some manly crap that warrants it." She grinned back, her face creasing into a genuinely warm and welcoming smile. "Get down here, Steen. I didn't give you my best advice on your deathbed just to have you rot away out here on your roof."

Steen's smile vanished at her reference to their deathbed chat, which stirred up his curiosity again. He decided that maybe he did want to know. "Hang on a sec." He carefully inched down the roof, and then swung himself to the ground, successfully managing not to flinch or grimace at the stab of pain in his side. He landed beside her, surprised by how short she was. She'd seemed bigger when she was giving him attitude. "I have a question for you."

A question that had been gnawing at him for months. It was time to get it answered. He needed to know.

She smiled. "Of course." She tucked her arm through his. "You can ask me as we walk to the ranch house."

Steen grimaced. "I'm really not feeling social—"

"No problem." She began to propel him toward the house. "You can be sullen and quiet the whole time, but as long as you eat, it's all good. Chase made some sort of beef stew he said was your favorite, so you better eat it."

Steen glanced toward the house that had once belonged to Old Skip Johnson, who'd owned the ranch when they were kids. Steen had been invited inside the main house only once, unlike Chase, who'd been buddies with the old man. Chase had really made him Old Skip's beef stew? He loved that shit. Guilt hammered through him. He knew Chase was reaching out, but he just couldn't meet his brother halfway. He didn't know how to bridge the gap he'd erected between him and his brother. "I'm not staying long," he said. "I won't be in your way."

"Not staying long?" Mira stopped and put her hands on her hips. "You have to stay. Who's going to watch the ranch while we're gone?"

"Watch the ranch?" Suspicion flared in Steen's mind. "What are you talking about?"

"I need to go back home to get the rest of my belongings and sort through my parents' stuff. I can't fly now." She patted her big belly. "So we're taking a road trip. Chase said you'd run the ranch while we're gone."

Steen narrowed his eyes and glanced at the house again. "I haven't been around horses since I was sixteen—"

Mira laughed, a laugh that was so genuine he almost felt confused. Who had a reason to be that happy? "I wasn't a horse person either, but I took care of things when Chase ran off to call you back from the dead." She poked his chest. "I think the least you can do is run the ranch for your brother. He was really worried about you, you know." Her brow furrowed. "He loves you, Steen. You know that, don't you?"

Hell, she was talking about love to him? He didn't want to have this kind of conversation. "Fine, I'll eat," he said gruffly, hoping that would get her to lighten up. He started stalking toward the front door, then gritted his teeth when Mira tucked her hands around his arm again, like they were best friends.

He didn't have best friends, and it made him feel trapped the way she was holding his arm. He didn't know how to respond to it, so he did nothing. He just walked, trying to focus on not accidentally bumping into her whenever the pain made him list to the side.

"What did you want to ask me?" she asked.

He glanced at her. She looked so happy, and so sweet. He was cynical as hell when it came to women, but there was something about Mira that he liked, and even trusted. He could see why she'd won Chase over.

She smiled encouragingly. "Chase is going to come out on the porch in a couple seconds, so ask me now if you want it to be private."

"Yeah, okay." He tipped his hat back and rubbed his forehead as he stopped. "So, yeah, when I was unconscious, Chase said he brought you to talk to me." He didn't want to say that he sort of remembered her being there. That felt too corny. He'd been dancing with death when she'd shown up, and everyone knew it. How could he possibly have heard what she said to him? But he had. He just couldn't remember what it was, but he knew it was important.

She nodded. "Yes. He thought I might be able to reach you. They were afraid you'd given up trying to live."

He didn't answer her unspoken question, knowing full well that she was right. That was exactly what he'd done. He'd used the injury as an excuse to pack it in, but his brothers had had other ideas.

She peered at him. "It's okay if you did give up for a bit, you know. Sometimes it's hard to keep going when you don't see hope."

"Yeah, well, sure." He cleared his throat, and then rubbed the back of his neck restlessly. He so wasn't used to these kinds of discussions, and he'd rather shove a pitchfork in his foot than talk personal with anyone, let alone a woman, but he couldn't walk away until he got his answer. "What did you say to me? Chase said you were the one who brought me back. What'd you say?"

She smiled, her eyes softening. "I told you that there was a woman out there who was waiting for you, someone who needed you, someone who only you could save. If you died, you'd leave her alone."

He was startled by her answer. She'd called him back by waxing on about a
woman
? "Really?"

She nodded. "Really."

That wasn't what he'd expected at all, on any level. Women had betrayed him so many times, so deeply, that the last thing he would ever do is stay alive for one. "Are you sure? Was there anything else?" This couldn't be what had been driving him to survive. It was impossible.

Mira's dark brows went up. "Of course I'm sure. I was there, and I was definitely paying attention to the words coming out of my mouth." She sighed. "I know that the men in your family have issues when it comes to women. I thought your brothers were going to shoot me when I told you to keep on living because a woman needed you. They all thought I was going to drive you over the edge." She beamed at him. "They were wrong."

He shook his head, feeling even crankier. "I'm not like my brothers." Although he'd come to live in the Stockton hellhole for good when he was twelve, he'd never felt that much of a bond with the other boys who'd lived in that shack and shared his last name. His mother had never been married to their dad. She'd been knocked up and gone on with life, dropping him off occasionally when she needed childcare. When he was twelve, she'd finally told him she couldn't deal with caring for him, so she was turning him over to his dad, an alcoholic bastard who took his rage out on his sons, who all bore the scars of his abuse. Steen had gotten lucky, because he hadn't moved in until later. The problem was that moving in so late in life, he'd never developed the same bond with the others. He didn't belong with them then, and he didn't belong with them now. He certainly didn't warrant a free handout of a hundred acres.

Mira was watching him, an expectant look on her face, as if she were waiting for him to tell her what woman he'd come back to life to rescue.

"Well, I appreciate your help," he said, somehow managing to be polite. There was something about Mira that made him want to be nicer than he actually was.

He was feeling strangely desolate after her answer. He'd been building so much into her answer, hoping that it would somehow shed light into the darkness that had no exit. Instead, she'd talked of women? "I'm done with women, though."

"Obviously not, since that's what woke you up." She tapped his chest, right over his heart. "You were meant to survive for a reason. Don't run away from it."

His head began to ache, and his side started throbbing. After years of never having any space to himself, all he wanted was to be alone. Away from people, away from conversation, away from those who thought they knew what was right for him. He was done with this, with all of it. "I'm going back to the bunk house. I'm beat. Long day."

"A long four years, more like," she said.