Last of the Red-Hot Cowboys (28 page)

“Me,” Harper said. “It's my last night to touch alcohol. Once Michael's here, it will never pass my lips.”

Ava handed Cameron her bottle, and they all raised their new ones to each other. “To another Saturday night in Hell.”

“It doesn't get better than this!” Cameron exclaimed.

“So did you never have a steady boyfriend, Cameron?” Ava asked. Of the three of them, Cameron was by far the toughest, and seemed the wildest. Ava could hardly imagine that Cameron had never had a serious boyfriend.

“I've never been in love.” Cameron looked up at the sky. “I think that's why the Horsemen tempted me. I knew there was nothing there but wild times.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” Harper said.

Ava stared at the stars. She'd never had eyes for anyone but Trace from the day she'd come to Hell.

“What about your two steadies?” Cameron asked her. “Never a temptation to get married?”

“No.” Now that she'd met Trace, she knew why she'd never before wanted to get married. Even as impossible as a relationship between them was, she was head over heels for the sexy cowboy. He maddened her, he drove her nuts—but he was the sweetest, most tender, considerate man she'd ever known. “I was never really in love before.”

“Not like you are with Trace,” Cameron said. “Totally understandable.”

“And did you notice,” Harper said, rolling on her float to look at them, “how he suddenly showed up at Hattie's tonight? Like he's ever sat around and made pies on a Saturday night before!”

Cameron and Harper laughed. “He's been asking us about you all week,” Cameron said, “as discreetly as possible, of course. Between you and his brothers ditching him, he's been like a sad teddy bear.”

“I didn't ditch him,” Ava said. “We're just in different places.” That was true. Life was like that, she thought: You think you'll never meet the man of your dreams, and then you do, but it turns out his dreams don't fit yours. “We just have different goals.”

“I think,” Cameron said, “that those three Outlaws are so scarred from serving in the war that they may never settle down.”

“That might be.” Harper let her toes trail in the water. “I like Declan, but he might not like Michael. I don't even know if he knows I have a son. So I never really took him seriously when he said he'd marry me in a heartbeat.”

“Marry you?” Ava and Cameron both sat up to stare at Harper.

“Well, he wasn't serious.” Harper looked at the moon, her pretty face serene. “That one talks a good game. But he's harmless.”

Ava closed her eyes. They floated in silence for a while, lost in their thoughts.

A huge splash rained water droplets over all of them. Prince had launched himself
off the pier, and was dog-paddling toward them with a huge, pleased doggie smile on his face. He went from Harper to Cameron to Ava, currying favor, and Ava smiled as she petted Prince's wet head.

I'm going to have to remember how much pleasure you can get just from diving in
.

* * *

Trace halted among the pines when he realized Prince had spied the three naiads before he had. Damn, they all had bikinis on, and he wasn't sure at this distance but he was almost certain the cool water and the light breeze had Ava's nipples puckered like beads.

Girls' night out. He didn't dare intrude. Prince was down there sucking up all the attention, and he heard
ohs
and
aws
from the girls as they fell for the dog's conniving, can't-resist-me seduction. Trace sighed. Lucky dog.

They were safe enough here. Prince wouldn't allow anybody near the pond who didn't belong on the property without setting up a ferocious barkfest that would raise the dead. Trace reluctantly gave up his spying, returning to his lonely house.

He looked out the window, curious to see where the girls had parked. How had he missed three beautiful women pulling up in his drive?

Sure enough, her truck was out there. They'd slipped up on him somehow, probably while he was napping on the sofa with Prince.

A shadow crawled out of Ava's truck bed, and Trace tensed. Eli Larson. The man glanced around, looking toward the house, then headed down the road.

Trace's gut tightened. So that's how Eli always managed to get from point A to point B. He opened his door.

“Eli!”

The man took off running, faster than Trace would have imagined. He'd catch him the next time he saw him in town, ask him what the hell he'd been doing in Ava's truck bed. It was a little eerie, more so than he wanted to admit.

Enough to make him slip his gun into his holster, grab a beer, and head back down to the pond to keep an eye on the girls from a distance. Not to keep an eye on
Ava's sweet, firm body—no. Not at all.

Well, maybe a little.

Prince was diving off the pier and the girls were egging him on, praising him like he was one of the Flying Wallendas. The dog was a greedy attention suck, but Trace had to admire how successful he was at it. He sank onto the ground and opened his beer.

It was a beautiful night to swim, not to mention a great night to snag a ride in a truck bed. He had to tell Ava that she'd had a stowaway, though it would probably freak her out a little. Eli was harmless, but no woman was going to be comfortable learning that a man had stolen a ride in her truck.

He wasn't comfortable with it, either. Maybe he'd also mention the matter to Steel.

“What are you doing?” Ava demanded, and Trace realized she'd spotted him sitting in the pines. “Why are you spying on us?”

“I'm not spying,” he called back. “I'm … standing guard.”

“There's nothing to guard.” Ava got out of the water, walked toward him, her skin glistening and dripping in the moonlight. He sucked in a breath, warning himself not to stare at any part of her body that would get him into trouble. Big trouble.

Suddenly, he understood exactly how Steel had felt when he was in the doghouse with Judy.

She stopped in front of him, and he looked up at her.

“You can't spy on us. Just because we're using your pond doesn't give you the right to be a creeper.”

He nodded. “True enough.”

“So why are you doing it?” She glared at him.

“I was keeping an eye on my dog. Making sure he's not making a nuisance of himself.”

Oh, sure
, he reprimanded himself.
Blame the dog
.

“Blaming poor Prince is hardly honorable. What if we'd been skinny-dipping?”

His throat went tight. “Well, the honorable answer is that I wouldn't have looked. The truth is probably less heroic.”

“Well, can you go away? This is our last night to be able to do this.”

His gut tightened. “Why? My pond is always available.”

“Look. I don't want to argue with you. Just go away, all right?” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Not to be ungrateful or anything, because we're really enjoying your place and your drinks and your dog.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Are you going to keep sitting there?”

“Will it help if I sit ten feet back?”

She sighed. “Okay. Why are you sitting here? It can't be any fun for you.”

“I'm just looking at the pretty girls in their bikinis. Not many men have this view.”

She made a face that, thanks to the moonlight, he could see clearly, a cross between disgust and disappointment. “You're kind of lost since your brothers left, aren't you?” she asked softly.

She thought he was lonely, a pity case. Maybe it was a good idea to lean on that. He didn't want to tell her right now about Eli; later, when she wasn't enjoying an innocent night with her friends. “I'm a little lost, maybe. Do me a favor and don't skinny-dip tonight, all right?”

“That's bad, Trace.”

“What?” He looked up at her. “Oh, I didn't mean because of me. You can skinny-dip all you want, if you don't mind me watching.”

“Pathetic,” she said.

“A bit,” he said cheerfully.

“Go.” She pointed at the house. “Please.”

“Fine.” He rose. “Deny a man a good time.”

She shook her head. “Again, pathetic.”

“Yeah, well. What can I tell you.” He leaned toward her, capturing those sassy lips with his. Waited to see what she would do, was so rocked when she kissed him back. It was over much too fast. “Now go away.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He backed up. “I'm going. But do me a favor.”

“Maybe. Doubtfully.”

“When you get ready to call it a night, let me know.”

“Why?”

He let his gaze skim over the tiny bikini bottoms and the top which stretched across breasts he knew too well, reminded himself he wasn't supposed to look. “I'll walk you to your truck.”

“We'll be fine. You can turn off your inner bodyguard for the night.”

“Humor me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don't want a Saturday Night Special.”

He looked at her warily. “You mean like what Steel is to Judy?”

“Exactly.”

“Good. I don't either. Get me when you leave.” He headed back to the house before he looked—hell, before he touched. No mortal man could easily resist tugging those tiny bottoms off Ava's sexy buns and kissing them, plus every other inch of her soft skin.

“Wait.” She stomped after him, tapped the holster at his back. “What the hell is that?”

“A gun.”

“Since when do you wear one of those?”

“When I need to.” He turned to walk away, and she grabbed him again.

“What's going on, Trace?”

He was going to drown in those big eyes. He certainly never seemed to retain a plan around her. “I saw Eli Larson get out of your truck bed a while ago.”

She stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. He's harmless, but you want to check before you drive your truck from now on.”

“So you weren't spying on us,” she said slowly. “You really were trying to protect us.”

“I'm not a hero,” he said quietly. “You're right to think the worst of me a lot of times. I let you down, Ava.”

“I know.” She didn't seem surprised by his admission. “I know you can be a rat, but I also know you're one of the kindest men I've ever known. Thanks for trying to keep an eye on us without spoiling our fun. I'm sorry I hopped all over you.”

“It's all right. Like I said, I'm not really hero material.”

She looked at him a long moment, then turned and walked down to the water, jumped in to join her friends. Prince circled in the water, barking joyously.

And Trace went back to sit in his den with an erection that wasn't going away anytime soon.

Obviously.

Because Ava had clearly decided that last Saturday night had been their last.

At three o'clock in the morning, according to the clock radio beside his bed, Trace was awakened by giggling. He peered into his den, seeing three wet women and an uber-wet dog crawling onto his sofas. Three of them appeared to be tipsy. Prince the traitor dog was clearly happy as hell to have been part of the late-night swimfest.

“Trace!” Ava said, attempting a whisper.

“Right here.” He walked out in his blue jeans, sans shirt, and the women's eyes widened.

“We're leaving now,” Cameron said.

“No you're not. There's two showers down the hall if you want to use them. You'll find a couple of guest bedrooms, or if you prefer, those sofas are really great for sleeping. Nobody's leaving here tonight.” He whistled, and Ava stared at him. Prince ran to his side.

“Come on, you wet, conniving animal. You're getting a rinse and a towel-off. Goodnight, ladies.”

He put Prince in his shower, rinsing him with tepid water, then drying him. “You lie on this towel, and do not move. And quit smiling,” he told Prince. “You're not the only one who likes it when she's around.”

He cleaned out the shower and climbed back into bed, stunned when he came into contact with a warm, soft, naked body.

Ava.
Thank God
. “I thought you said you weren't looking for a Saturday Night Special.”

Ava placed a cool hand around the hard-on he'd been carrying for the past week. “It's Sunday morning.”

“True.” He closed his eyes as she began a pleasing tugging, massaging motion. “You're driving me mad.”

“I don't mean to.”

“Yeah, you do.” He groaned, feeling his balls tightening. “Where's the rest of the
team?”

“They showered and grabbed the other two beds. I didn't shower. You were busy with Prince, so I got in your bed to get warm.”

He was going to come in her hands any second. She kissed his neck, tantalizing him, and it would have taken more hero than he possessed to remind her that she'd told him not three hours ago that this wasn't what she wanted, or that she was maybe a little tipsy and might regret this tomorrow.

But her hands were driving him absolutely insane, and besides, he'd warned her he was no Prince Charming. “Come here,” he said, glad as hell to discover that she was buck naked when he dragged her into his arms. He crushed her butt against him, holding her against the erection she'd tweaked into red-hot heat, slipped a finger inside her sexy, wet warmth. She moaned, and he felt her muscles quiver against his hand.

No, he was no hero.

Grabbing a condom from his nightstand, he rolled on top of her, pressing her into the sheets with his weight, aching to get rid of the need she aroused in him. “You're sure you want this?”

She gazed up at him, pulled his hips toward her, fitted him to her. “Yes.”

She didn't sound tipsy at all now. She sounded breathless and wanting.

“God, Ava.” Holding her butt cheeks hard, he entered the soft hotness she offered him. Felt himself right at the edge of mind-bending pleasure. “I can't stay away from you.”