How to Kiss a Cowboy (24 page)

Brady jammed his hat down onto his head and steadied the ladder he'd leaned against Suze's big red barn. It wasn't ideal roof-repairing weather, but the job needed to be done. He'd discovered mildewed hay bales and rotting wood in a corner of the loft a week earlier, and he couldn't let the damage continue another day.

The damage he'd done to his relationship with Suze was piling up though. He'd continued to take care of the barn and the horses, and he'd done dishes whenever he could sneak in the house without being seen, but he hadn't gone upstairs and she hadn't come down for the past few days.

It was just as well. A relationship built on deception was no relationship at all. It was better to stay away.

The trouble was, she didn't know he'd deceived her. So she didn't know why he'd suddenly deserted her, either. He had a feeling he'd gone and hurt her again.

Hard work wouldn't make up for that, but he had to do something. He planned to get up on the barn roof before the heat of the sun became unbearable, but the wind was whipping up into the kind of tempest that swept up every dead leaf and loose bit of litter and carried them off to Nebraska. Brady knew he'd be okay when he was crouched down nailing shingles, but if he wasn't careful when he stood up, a gust could easily topple him over and send him skidding down the slope to his doom. He wouldn't do Suze much good if he broke his own legs trying to help her.

He watched an enormous tumbleweed bound past and shook off a smaller one that danced across the tips of the grass and clung to his leg. He laughed as Dooley rose from his sentry position on the front porch and took off after the tumbleweed with great leaps, barking as he ran.

With one hand pressing his old straw hat to his head, he started up the ladder. The wind was no friend to broad-brimmed cowboy hats, but in the thin air of the high plains, he'd get one heck of a sunburn if he didn't wear one, and this particular one was a tight enough fit to stick.

Dooley had returned from his hunt, carrying his head high as he pranced home with his prize. Settling at the bottom of the ladder, he began to eat the newly subdued tumbleweed.

“I don't think you're supposed to do that, buddy,” Brady called down, but the dog ignored him. With all that fur in his ears, it was a wonder he heard anything.

By eight o'clock, Brady had torn off a big patch of old shingles and felt like his skin was dry as an old corn husk from the wind. He sat down on the sloping roof and wiped his brow.

Demolition was the fun part of a job. Now it was time for the real work.

He reached for a box of nails, but his clumsy work gloves made him bobble it, putting on a brief juggling act before it opened up and spilled. Half the nails fell down into the mess of weeds below.

“Dooley, no.” Tumbleweeds were one thing. Brady was sure the dog shouldn't eat roofing nails. “Leave it. Leave it.”

Dooley surprised him by dropping the nail he'd caught and lying down with his head between his paws, his back legs sprawled behind him so he looked like a very small, very hairy bearskin rug.

“Good job, Dooley,” Brady said. “You're acting almost like a good dog.”

Brady reached up and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, accidentally tipping his hat back. The wind whipped up as if it had been waiting for that very moment and flipped the hat into the air.

Cursing, Brady watched his second-best straw hat tumble across the grass and join the tumbleweeds lodged against the fencerow. Well, at least it wasn't going anywhere.

But like the wind, Dooley had been waiting for just this opportunity. Yipping happily, he raced across the grass, seizing the hat in his teeth and giving it a good shake, as if it were a rat that needed killing. Trotting back to the bottom of the ladder, he lay down with the hat between his front feet.

Just then the wind whipped up again and the hat spun out of the dog's grip, sailing toward the fence again. Dooley chased after it.

Brady just watched. Heck, it was an old hat, anyway. It might be wearable at the end of the day, or it might not, but Dooley would be a happy dog.

He fished in his front pocket and took out a bandanna, which he wrapped around his head do-rag style as a stopgap sun block. Then he got to work, sliding the first shingle into place.

He paused with his hammer suspended above the first nail. Suze was probably sleeping, but what was he supposed to do? She probably slept all the time.

He was fixing her barn and entertaining her dog. She couldn't complain too much if he woke her up. Besides, he had a feeling her annoyance would help her heal. Being mad seemed to give her energy.

But he wasn't ready to face her, and he needed a break anyway. Settling down on the roof, he took a can of Coke out of his toolbox and swallowed half of it in one go, then ran the chilled can across his forehead.

Man, that was good. Nothing like a cold drink on a hot, blue-sky day.

Looking out over the Carlyle place from this vantage point, it looked almost idyllic. Speedo and Bucket grazed in the pasture. The area around the house was cleaned up, and he'd mown the lawn too. It looked nice. He'd fixed a lot of problems for Suze.

Did it really matter that he'd had to fix a terrible mistake of his own with that late-night raid on Cooter's place? He'd fixed the Speedo problem just like he'd fixed the lawn problem and like he was fixing the barn problem now.

Maybe he wasn't such a terrible person after all.

He was finishing off the Coke when the corner window on the second floor screeched open and hit the top of the window frame with a resounding
bang.

“Brady Caine, I always knew you were a pervert!”

It was Suze in all her rumpled glory. A bad case of bed head failed to spoil the effect of a barely there nightie that was worn to sheer transparency and revealed her black lace panties every time she lifted her arms.

Brady almost fell off the roof. How was he supposed to do the right thing when she wore
that
?

“I can't believe you'd go that far,” she said.

He started to speak, but she kept right on going.

“I don't care if it's just a joke. It's not funny. People expect privacy in their own homes. And you're not fooling anybody with that toolbox.”

As a matter of fact, his tool wasn't fooling anybody either. He wasn't sure how he was going to get down the ladder.

“I can
see
you up there, doing nothing,” she said. “Just like
you
can see
me
!”

She lifted her arms to shut the window, revealing that the panties showed plenty of skin in the spaces between their lacy daisies. The sash jammed and she continued to fume while she struggled with it. Brady wished he could take home the work of art framed by the window trim and hang it in his bedroom.

She caught him looking and lowered her arms. “Pervert.”

“If I wasn't one before, I am now.” Brady winked and pointed the hammer her way. “Nice panties.”

She gave the sash a final, useless tug and spun around, covering herself with her hands. Grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed, she tossed it around her shoulders and reached for the top of the window again. Naturally, the blanket slipped to the floor.

Brady wasn't one for strip clubs, but he'd been to a couple bachelor parties for cowboys who went for that kind of thing, and he'd never seen a strip show that came close to this one.

She scooped up the blanket and clutched it to her chest. “You could at least have the decency to get down now that I caught you.”

“Caught me doing what?”

“Playing Peeping Tom.” She gestured wildly toward the barn. “Why else would you be up there, unless you're trying to get a look at me in my skivvies?”

He held up the hammer and the box of nails. “I'm doing roof repairs. Thought I'd get it done before the sun got too hot, but I figured you were sleeping, so I was waiting a bit.” He couldn't help grinning. “The skivvies are an unexpected bonus.”

“Oh!” She made a sound that was a cross between rage and surprise, and he swallowed a smile as she tugged at the window again.

“I could fix that window too.”

“No! I told you. I don't. Want. Any. Help.” Each word was punctuated with a tug at the window sash. On the last word, her hand slipped and she toppled sideways. A loud crash and a smothered yelp told Brady she'd taken a serious fall, but she reappeared at the window seconds later, smoothing her hair as if nothing had happened.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Fine. Just slipped.” She stroked her hair again—a dead giveaway that she was lying. Ditto for the flirtatious fluttering of her lashes. Suze didn't know how to flirt.

She was probably struggling to stay conscious.

Suze leaned against the wall beside the window, cussing under her breath. She had been so shocked to see Brady up on the barn roof that she hadn't used her crutches to get to the window. In fact, she'd rocketed out of bed with no regard for her injuries
or
her outfit. She'd probably set back her recovery by two weeks in the process.

Besides that, she'd made an absolute ass of herself. It hadn't even occurred to her that Brady might be repairing the barn roof. Sure, it needed it, but it was the middle of July. Between the high temperatures, the unrelenting sunshine, and the high winds, he'd probably shortened his life just by climbing the ladder. And here she was, worrying about her recovery and her modesty.

She still hadn't managed to pull the window down. She shot the stubborn sash a dirty look and decided to blame it for all her troubles. She leaned over to peek out the window.

Brady's truck was still in the drive, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. He was probably in the barn or out back with the horses.

Good. She'd teach that danged window a lesson. Reaching up, she pulled with all her might, practically hanging on the darn thing. It slammed shut so hard it shocked her and sent her stumbling backward. Fortunately, something stopped her from falling down. Something warm, that felt suspiciously like a man's muscular chest.

“I knew you were going to do that.”

Before she could splutter out the cuss words she had locked and loaded, strong hands began kneading her shoulders right where they hurt. She felt the hair on the nape of her neck flutter. He was close. Too close.

She whirled, nearly falling again, but caught herself quickly enough to hang on to her dignity. Unfortunately, what she caught herself on was the cowboy in question.

“You should have warned me that you were going to be up there.”

He looked completely unrepentant. Had Brady ever repented anything in his life?

That
morning
at
your
trailer. He regretted oversleeping. He regretted having to make nice when he just wanted to go…

“If I'd warned you, you would've told me not to do it.” He calmly reached over and braced his thumbs on her collarbone so he could dig his fingers into the sore spots on either side of her spine. “I'm not going to warn you about every move I make. That would be exhausting.”

“It sure would. You've got more moves than Casanova.”

She meant it as an insult, but of course Brady didn't take it that way.

“That good, huh? Thanks.” He changed his grip, working muscles she didn't even know she had, and she couldn't help moaning at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“You've got some moves of your own,” he said. “Like climbing out of bed and walking to the window without your crutches. You okay?”

She nodded, but then Brady looked her in the eye and she shook her head.

“Was that a yes or a no?”

“It was an
I
don't know
,” she said. “It hurts, but it always hurts. I don't think it's any worse than usual.”

“What hurts?”

“My ankle.”

“It shouldn't hurt that much if you stay off it. It's in a cast.”

“I know, but the cast feels too small. It's like it's swollen in there. It aches and throbs. Sometimes it really, really hurts.”

Somehow, Brady had managed to steer her over to the bed with his impromptu massage. She sat down gratefully.

“Maybe you're right, and it's too small,” he said. “Let's see.”

She expected him to look down at her toes, but instead he bent and hoisted her foot into his lap, nearly pushing her over backward. Resting her elbows on the bed behind her, she thanked the boredom gods for the pedicure she'd given herself the day before. Then she thanked the panty gods that her black lace panties were solid where it mattered.

Brady noticed the pedicure. “Pretty toes.” He gently touched each one in turn. “They don't look swollen. But it's hard to tell what's going on in there. When did you have it checked last?”

She felt the flush starting at the toes he held in his hand, rushing up her body to warm her chest, her throat, her face, her ears.

Brady shook his head, still with that gentle smile. Why had she never seen that smile before? It was sweet. Caring.

“You haven't been to the doctor, have you?”

She shook her head.

“Wasn't there an appointment?”

She shrugged.

“Your dad picked you up at the hospital. He'd know when your follow-up visit was scheduled.”

“Probably. But he hasn't mentioned it.” She shrugged and looked away. “You know how he is.”

She knew the appointment was probably a week ago. Now Brady would insist on tossing her in his pickup and driving like a demon, dragging her into the doctor's office, making a scene in the waiting room, embarrassing her in front of all the nurses, who'd fall in love with him and think he was all chivalrous and everything and she was an ungrateful witch.

“Earth to Suze,” he said. “You should go to the doctor, you know.”

“I will,” she said. “I'll ask my dad to take me.”

“
Tell
him. Tell him I'll do it if he doesn't. He'll hate that.”

“Okay.” She couldn't believe she was getting off this easy. She was almost disappointed.

Maybe Brady was learning that she'd listen if he offered advice, but resist him till the cows turned blue if he tried to control her. “Thanks, Brady. And, um, I'm sorry about…” She waved vaguely out the window. “You know, before.”

He grinned. “Before what?”

“Before you came up here. When you were on the roof, and I was screaming at you.”

“Aw, that was nothing. Besides, it worked out just fine.”

Only then did she remember she was still wearing the outfit she'd been so upset about him seeing. And only then did she notice that he'd leaned back on the bed too, resting one arm behind her head.

And only then did she realize he was going to kiss her.

* * *

Brady couldn't help himself. He and Suze were practically in bed together, and she was darn near naked. If she had any problem with that, she didn't act like it. Lies or no lies, he couldn't look at those bruised-cherry lips another second without kissing her.

Besides, it wasn't like his lies had hurt her. Speedo was back, and he didn't seem to have been affected by his brief stay at Cooter's. So Brady might not have told her about Speedo's little adventure, but he'd found him, hadn't he? So it was like it had never happened.

He touched his lips to hers and felt white-hot power shoot from the contact, lighting up every nerve ending in his body. She seemed shocked at first, tensing under his touch, but he put one hand on the bare skin at her waist—the skimpy nightie had gotten hiked up somehow—and did his best to kiss her right.

All thoughts of Speedo, all memory of his deceit, faded away. All he could think of was Suze, warm and sweet and right there. Right there, kissing him back.

He went slow and easy, with moves soft enough to soothe a spooked filly. First he slid his lips across hers in a chaste, caring sort of caress. When that didn't make her mad, he dared to trace the bottom of that full, bee-stung upper lip with his tongue. Loving Suze was kind of like loving a beautiful but temperamental mare that was eating out of your hand one minute and kicking you in the head the next.

Brady didn't mind. Heck, he rode wild horses for a living. He liked a little excitement in the bedroom—and in the kitchen and the hallway, and every other room of the house, for that matter. He believed life should be lived, not merely survived. And he was sure Suze felt the same way. You could tell by the way she rode.

“I just about went crazy this past week,” he said. “Being here. Knowing you were just upstairs.”

“You should have come,” she whispered in his ear.

The unintentional double entendre stoked the fire raging inside him.

Careful, careful.

He'd nearly lost it with Suze last time he was here. She lit him up like no other woman ever had, and he'd been teetering on the edge of a cliff when he'd pulled back last time.

So this time, he wasn't pulling back.

Problem solved.