Once Upon a Cowboy (18 page)

“I’m so sorry, Cole.”

“I am, too. I just wish you could…
trust
me. Really trust me.”

She nodded slowly as she watched a couple of last embers fizzle out, then catch again. She stood up and stepped closer to him, placing a careful hand on his arm. “I want to,” she whispered. “I really want to.”

“Okay.” He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. “Then let’s start with some wings. I’ll warn you,
though. I go hot. Way hot.”

Her eyes flew open wide and he laughed.

“The wings, cowgirl. Hot
wings
.”

Five minutes later, as Cole gathered up the rest of their supplies and checked on the horses, Jess watched the kids running around. It looked like the game had dissolved, but some of the boys were playing tag, while two girls did cartwheels and another picked flowers. Then, apparently on some
invisible signal, all ten of the kids stopped what they were doing and made a beeline for Cole.

He sensed them coming—or heard them—and at the last second, he turned around with a ginormous roar, his hands up in the air. They all screeched and ran the other way, and he took off after them, scooping up one after another, then letting each one go when he reached the next.

As Jess watched, her
smile fell slowly. He was so natural with the kids. They loved him from the moment they arrived at the ranch, and they cried when they left. Whether he was teaching horseback lessons or leading a trail ride or cheating in a scavenger hunt, he just had some sort of aura around him that drew them close. She’d seen it in the reviews on the Whisper Creek website, but seeing it in person made her stomach
ache with longing.

She wondered if he really envisioned himself having his own children someday, and then kicked herself for wondering. Of course he did. Why would he not? Whisper Creek was a family operation handed down through generations. Surely he and Decker planned to pass it along to their own children someday as well. And that would mean—having some to pass it down to.

She put her fingers
to her mouth, feeling again the soft brush of his lips on hers, feeling his whispers in her ears, his fingertips on her face. Then she looked down at the loose shirt she’d chosen to wear today.

If only her scars were just on the outside.

“Red or white?” Cole pulled two goblets from the rack above his granite counter.

Jess slid onto a cushioned barstool across from him, trying not to notice how good he looked in a crisp oxford shirt and dress pants—trying not to notice how good he
smelled,
fresh from the shower.

She cleared her throat carefully. “Hmm. Which goes better with wings?”

“I don’t know. White meat, red sauce.
Could go either way.”

“Let’s go with the white.” She smiled as he expertly popped the cork and poured the wine. Clearly this was an old routine for him, entertaining women at his counter. “So do you have an old family recipe for—wings?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Decker and I’ve been perfecting it over the years. Salty’s tried to buy it from us, but we keep holding out. If this whole ranching
thing doesn’t work out, we can always go into the wings business, right?”

“Absolutely. Huge money in wings.” She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her wine. “So”—she looked around the cabin, which was homey, comfortable, and incredibly tidy for a bachelor pad—“is this place always so neat?”

“Yup. Just me living here, after all. No one to mess it up.”

She narrowed her eyes and put her index
finger on her nose. “I call bull.”

He laughed out loud. “Fine. I spent the last half hour running around pushing beer cans and damp towels into closets.”

“Bull on that, too, but it
is
freakishly neat in here for someone who barely has time to tie his own shoes, let alone vacuum.”

He put his hands in the air. “Okay. I confess. Belinda comes down once a week after she’s done with the guest cabins.”

“Aha.” She took another sip of wine as she looked around. “I’ve always loved log cabins. There’s just something—I don’t know—so cozy about them.”

Cole’s cabin looked like a mini version of the main lodge up the hill, with polished countertops, maple cabinets, and braided rugs over plank flooring that looked rustic, but had probably cost a mint somewhere back in time.

The kitchen and living room
were all one big space, separated only by an island with a little prep sink on top and wine fridge below. The kitchen window looked up the hill toward the stables and lodge, but the big windows in the living room looked out onto just trees.

She slid off her barstool and walked toward the windows, drawn by the sound of water coming through the screens. “Is that Whisper Creek I can hear?”

“Yep.
Still running a little high because of the snowpack this year.” He walked over to the window, stopping behind her and pointing over her shoulder. “See that set of three pines right there?”

“I think I might have used one of them to help haul myself
out
of the creek, yes.”

“That’s where the snappers nest.”

“Fantastic.” She turned toward him, catching her breath when she found him closer than
she expected. “You know, I get that you don’t want guests to think this place is anything but sunshine and pretty horses, but could you guys maybe come up with a warning manual for friends and family?”

“Not a bad idea.” He stepped back toward the kitchen, then pulled a big pot out of a lower cupboard. “Might save us a lot of trouble in the end, especially with the three of you gals.”

She followed
him. “So do I get to see the secret wing sauce recipe? Since—y’know—I’m family and all?”

“I don’t know if I can trust you with it.” He winked. “ ’Course, you’re from Boston, so I guess you wouldn’t have much use for it back east.”

“Are you kidding? Have you
been
to Boston on a Red Sox or Patriots weekend? There are a
lot
of chickens who give their lives for New England sports.”

Cole laughed.
“Okay, then. I definitely can’t share the recipe. You’d have it up for sale in three seconds flat.”

“Better than calendars, right? Maybe you could convince Kyla to look into bottling your secret sauce instead.”

He adjusted a dial on the stove. “Now that, cowgirl, is an idea. Except it takes about three days and way too many hours to cook it up just right. I actually made it ahead. We just have
to reheat it.” He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two enormous bags of red sauce, handing one to her as he closed the door.

Just then there was a scrabbling noise at the front door, and then an enormous pile of fur flew through it like there were demons on his tail.

“Oh, no.” Cole barely had time to get the words out before a dog the size of a small pony spun into the kitchen area,
claws trying to get traction, but losing to momentum. Without thinking, Jess ducked toward Cole, raising the bag of sauce in front of her for protection.

“Moose! No!” Cole put out a hand, but it was too late. The dog flew toward them both, putting up his paws at the last second to brace himself.

And then there was a horrible popping sound as Moose’s claws met bulging bags of fresh barbecue sauce,
and then there was a splatting sound as said sauce sprayed the entire kitchen bright red. Jess heard the sound of her own squeaking as the cold sauce seeped through her dress and down her neck and into her shoes, but her squeals were no match for the deep growl that came out of Cole one second later.

“Moose, you big oaf. Bad dog!” He pushed the Saint Bernard firmly down off his chest, laughing.
Moose complied, sitting down with a loopy dog-grin, wagging his furry tail through the barbecue sauce he’d just slopped all over the floor.

Cole grabbed his collar and guided him out the door, then locked it behind him. He turned around, and Jess had to cover her mouth as she watched him survey the damage. He shook his head. “Oh. My. God.”

Jess tried to keep a giggle at bay, but looking at Cole
with a huge red stain on his previously white oxford was making it almost impossible. Then she looked down at the aqua sundress she’d put on after their ride, and sputtered out a laugh as she realized she looked like the first one to die in a cheesy horror flick.

“So that was Moose.” Cole growled, wincing as he stepped gingerly back toward the kitchen.

She nodded. “We’ve met. Maybe not quite
so elegantly last time, though.”

“I can’t believe he just ruined my wings. And your dress.” Cole looked down at her feet. “Ah, hell. And your shoes. Please tell me you’re not supposed to wear those for the wedding tomorrow.”

“No.” Jess bent to take them off, tipping them over the sink to dump the sauce out. “I have other shoes.”

Cole looked at her, shaking his head. “We have to get you out
of that dress.”

Jess felt her cheeks redden at his words. “I’ll help you clean up first.”

“No.” He shook his head firmly. “You don’t want that sauce on your skin. If you don’t shower, like, now, you’ll look like you got attacked by a herd of jalapeños by morning.”

“So that’d be the burning sensation that followed the freezing cold slop sensation?” She tried to scoop more sauce off from her
dress.

“Yeah.” He grimaced again. “I am
so
sorry.” He opened a door just off from the kitchen. “Come on. You need to get that stuff off you.”

Jess followed, but stopped short when she realized he was showing her into the bathroom. “Oh. Wow. Gosh. I can just head up to my cabin and shower.”

“No, you can’t. One, your skin will fry by the time you get there. And two, you look like I just tried
to murder you in here. Not great for business.”

Jess laughed, looking down. He was right. It didn’t look good.

“Towels are right there. There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door you can put on afterward.”

Jess glanced at the navy blue robe, imagining him in it—and nothing else. She closed her eyes firmly.

“And before you say it, no. I’m not really a robe guy, but Ma bought them for me
and Decker after the third time she caught guests sneaking down to our cabins to peek in the windows. Said she didn’t need
naked
cowboys getting posted up on the Internet.”

Jess laughed. “Might be good for business.”

“Kyla’s calendar will be bad enough, thank you.” He pointed toward the glassed-in shower. “Everything you need should be in there, though you’ll have to put up with basic soap and
shampoo, not the fancy stuff you probably use.”

“Basic is perfect. Thank you.”

“Okay. I’ll just be out in the kitchen cleaning up that colossal mess.” He pulled the door almost closed, then leaned back in. “And trying not to think of you in here.”

The door closed firmly behind him, and Jess stared at the lock, her stomach feeling suddenly jittery inside. Could she really just strip down to
nothing in Cole’s bathroom and step into that shower?

She reached for the lock, started to turn it like she’d done every time she’d entered a bathroom since she was ten.

But she pulled her hand away. Watching the doorknob, she slowly slid her sticky dress from her shoulders. She peeled off her underclothing, stepped into the shower, closed the glass door, and turned on the water.

When streams
of water hit her from both sides, she exhaled slowly, reveling in the sensation of the pounding water on her skin. She tore her eyes from the door, reached for the soap, and held it to her nose, inhaling Cole’s scent.

Then she rubbed it down her arms, over her chest, down her legs, trying not to think about Cole in the kitchen. Trying not to think about how it might feel to have him right here
with her, sliding the bar of soap over her body. Trying not to think about how it might feel for them to step out of this shower together and head into his bedroom.

Cole swore as he opened up yet another package of paper towels and tried to sop up more of Moose’s mess. Not only had the damn dog ruined his sauce—now Cole had to hang around in his kitchen while the most beautiful woman he’d
ever met was naked in his shower. Alone.

He growled as he wiped down the cupboard fronts. He’d give just about anything to open that door right now, give anything to touch her, to kiss her, to take her to bed.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. Maybe not ever, at this rate.

Stupid dog.

Kyla knocked lightly on the front door, then poked her head in. “Hotel laundry service. Heard
we had a hot wings accident?”

He rolled his eyes as he took a bag from her and set it just inside the door. “That dog is going to be the death of me. Or you, since you’re the one who actually adopted him. Has it occurred to you that he’s almost bigger than the Shetlands?”

“I’m sorry. Really. I was really looking forward to those wings.” She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “But you should
be thanking me, don’t you think? I mean, seriously. Jess? Your shower? And here you are, shirtless?”

Cole motioned her back out the door. “Go. I’m shirtless because your dog ruined my shirt, and I need a shower before my skin burns off. Thank you for bringing down some clothes for Jess.”

“Sure. If you guys are a little late to the rehearsal dinner, I’ll make excuses, okay?”

He rolled his eyes.
He
wished
. “Go.”

“Love you, Cole!” She hopped down his porch steps and he couldn’t help but smile.

Just then he heard the water shut off, and he knew he should knock on the bathroom door and hand in Jess’s clothes. Yes, he should definitely do that. But if he did, then he wouldn’t get the chance to see her come out of the bathroom all clean and glistening, her long hair down her back, wearing
his robe.

And that was a sight he sorely wanted to see right now.

Jess took another swipe at the counter, trying to catch the last drops of sauce. After Cole had headed in to shower, she’d gotten dressed as quickly as possible and was now in the kitchen, trying to finish cleaning up. She moved a pile of papers and lifted an envelope to wipe drops of sauce from the top, then stopped short
as she saw what was under it.

She knew she shouldn’t look. She knew she was invading Cole’s privacy by looking, but she couldn’t
not
look. As she read the piece of paper, she felt her jaw dropping a little further with each paragraph.

Five minutes later, Cole emerged from the bathroom, all adorably fresh and rumpled at the same time. From the leather couch where she was sitting, she took in
his clean khakis and blue oxford, and a crazy part of her longed to jump up from the couch and into his arms. He was that gorgeous. And hot.

She sighed.

And apparently completely, utterly dissatisfied with his current life.

“Want some more wine?” He picked up the bottle, wiping a couple of drops of sauce from the bottom.

“Umm—”

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “When you don’t chase it with Jell-O
shots, this wine’s pretty benign. I promise I won’t let you get tipsy-stupid.”

“That’s a relief. Thank you.” Jess rolled her eyes.

“So.” He brought the wine bottle over and refilled her glass, then set it on the coffee table as he sat down on the other end of the couch. “Did you snoop around and uncover all my deep, dark secrets while I was in the shower?”

“Absolutely. You have a serious pickle
problem.”

Cole laughed. “You went through my cupboards? Seriously?”

“No. I went to put away the bottle of hot sauce, and the first cupboard I opened had ten jars of pickles in it.”

“What can I say? I eat a lot of sandwiches. And pickles go with sandwiches. So, pickles. And if that’s the deepest, darkest thing you found, I guess I’m doing pretty well.”

“You also have a rather impressive collection
of eighties hair band CDs, which I’m not sure whether to respect or laugh at.”

“Says the woman with six eighties playlists on her phone.”

“I know. Touché. But my songs are the
good
ones.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You were seriously born outside your dream decade, cowgirl.”

“That is not the first time you’ve told me that, and you’re right. I totally could have rocked the eighties.” She pushed
her hair playfully high on top. “With enough hair spray, anyway.”

She took a deep breath. “So, speaking of dreams deferred and all—”

“Were we speaking of dreams deferred?”