One Hot Cowboy (16 page)
because she couldn’t stay here as his guest.
She couldn’t be his plaything or his part-
time lover, either. She needed more than
that. Twenty yards, and this was over. She
reached into her bag for the car keys.
“But that’s not what I’m here about,” he
repeated. “There’s something else. Us.”
His words had her heart leaping, and,
damn it, this was just what she didn’t want.
She didn’t need a conversation about how
the sex had been great, thank you, but there
wasn’t a future for them.
“Unless you’re breaking up with me,” he
said, and she sucked in air. Hard.
“I didn’t realize we were even dating.”
She kept her voice light, hating the sudden
pounding of her heart, the prickle of sweat
icing her spine.
“Damn it, Rose,” he growled. “This
isn’t a game. Not to me.”
“I know,” she said.
Screw being
mature
. She broke into a run, picking up
her pace until she’d put that handful of
yards between them. Dumping her purse on
the car hood, she fished blindly for the
keys.
Behind her she heard the steady up-and-
down of horse hooves, and then a hard arm
banded around her waist, lifting her off her
feet. She shrieked before she could stop
herself.
“Don’t scare the horse, darlin’.”
Effortlessly, he pulled her up and over his
saddle. It was all too easy to imagine him a
hundred years ago, driving cattle with
maybe a little rustling and thieving on the
side. He didn’t take his eyes off the road,
but his face was fierce.
“Damn it, Rose,” he cursed, when she
continued to wriggle in his hold, “you’re
going to listen to me.”
Wrapping both arms around her tightly,
he guided the horse with his knees. Their
departure was accompanied by a whole lot
of whooping from the handful of cowboys
parked outside Lonesome’s solitary bar.
She thought she saw Seth disappearing
inside with a grin on his face. The traitor.
“This is kidnapping, Cabe Dawson. You
don’t get to do this.”
“I figured,” he said, his hold tightening
as he nudged the horse into a trot, “that I
owed you one for that little swim in the
pond the other night. Now we’re even. I
brought you flowers,” he continued, as if
they were two friends having coffee. As if
the papers and the mortgage and the fight
over the house didn’t matter. “I figured
maybe you could put them on the front
porch.”
Keeping one arm firmly around her, he
fished in his saddlebag and produced a
little plastic-wrapped potted rose. Tiny
and delicate, its miniature pink buds shook
with each step the horse took.
She eyed the small pot as if it was a
snake. Hell, he should be glad she didn’t
have a gun on her. She was suddenly in the
mood to shoot his ass. He’d taken away
her home, and he wanted to bring her
flowers
?
She shoved at his forearm. “Let me
down, Cabe. You can’t ride into town and
kidnap me. Wrong century.”
“I can do whatever I want,” he claimed,
not bothering to point out he’d already
done just that.
Her fingers pried at his hold, but there
wasn’t an inch of give in him.
“You don’t want to fall off, darlin’. Sit
tight, hear me out, and then I’ll let you go.”
“I didn’t take you for a roses kind of a
man, Cabe,” she mocked. “And here it is,
not even Valentine’s Day.”
“You liked the roses on your porch.
Those yellow ones. I’ve been thinking,” he
continued. “You can plant this rose
somewhere new, get it started right. Or, if
you really have your heart set on that
particular house,” he growled, “I’ll give it
to you. I still need the water for the ranch,
but I don’t think you wanted that water.
You want the house. So, you tell me where
to put it, and I’ll see it done.”
“Excuse me?”
“You pick out a new spot, and I’ll put in
a foundation, get a house mover out here,
and we’ll make it happen. You can keep
Auntie Dee’s house.”
“I don’t want your gifts,” she growled
right back. “I wanted to do this on my own,
Cabe.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair.
“Well, that horse is out of the barn, Rose. I
can’t turn back the clock. Auntie Dee
needed that money, and pride wouldn’t let
her take it from me any other way. She
signed. I signed. That’s not something I can
be undoing now.”
“I have my pride, too.”
“Yeah. And you have plenty of reasons
to be proud. You’re strong—I get that.
Hell, I don’t want to change that, and I
couldn’t, even if did. But I still want to fix
some things for you, if I can. Is it so
damned hard to take something from me,
Rose? Let me give this to you.”
“What do you get out of this? I’m not
going to play the beggar here, Cabe.”
“We don’t have to be square,” he
growled. “All you have to do is say yes.”
“This isn’t about being square.” She
stared ahead stubbornly. “I’m not coming
to the table empty-handed, Cabe.”
He cursed, but she was holding out for it
all. Why didn’t he want to give her the
words? The house, cash—those were the
easy things. The words, though—those felt
like they were being pulled from him.
“You’re not coming empty-handed.”
Cupping her head he exhaled roughly.
Clearly, if he had to say this . . . this
thing
he felt out loud, she wasn’t moving until he
was done. “You want to know why?
Because I love you, Rose Jordan.
You’re
everything I want.”
His mouth moved against her head, a
smile tugging at his lips. “Put me out of my
damned misery?” he asked.
“I should make you wait,” she
whispered raggedly.
“I have waited,” he pointed out roughly.
“Too long, Rose. Seems like I’ve been
waiting a lifetime for you. Marry me.
Spend the rest of our lifetime together.”
His thumb rubbed along her jaw, tracing
her bottom lip. This felt so right.
This
was
where she belonged, was what she had
been looking for all along. Cabe Dawson
was home.
“All right, then,” she finally said firmly.
She twisted in his arms so she could look
up at him as she pulled his familiar face
down toward her. “I love you, too, Cabe. I
love you more than words can say.”
“Kisses,” he growled. “I’ll take your
kisses, then, Rose. I’ve been told that
actions speak louder than words anyhow.”
“Kisses it is.”
She pushed his Stetson back, threading
her fingers through his dark hair, her mouth
reaching up to meet his halfway. She
opened up for him as his lips parted hers,
her tongue licking along his in a delicious
tangle. No fleeting sensation, this. Her
cowboy packed a punch, the sensual heat
and taste of him filling her full with the
promise that she’d come home.
After ten years of graduate school and too
many degrees, Anne Marsh escaped to
become a technical writer. When not
planted firmly in front of the laptop
translating Engineer into English, Anne
enjoys gardening, running (even if it’s just
to the 7-Eleven for slurpees), and reading
books curled up with her kids. The best
part of writing romance, however, is
finally being able to answer the question:
“So . . . what do you do with a PhD in
Slavic Languages and Literatures?”
She lives in Northern California with her
husband, two kids, and five cats.
You can visit her online at www.anne-
marsh.com.
eKENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2012 Anne Marsh
All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced in any form or by any
means without the prior written consent of
the publisher, excepting brief quotes used
in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, businesses, organizations,
places, events, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.
eKENSINGTON is a trademark of
Kensington Publishing Corp.
KENSINGTON is Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM
Off.
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3042-5
First edition: October 2012
