One Hot Cowboy (3 page)

than just another one of his younger

brothers’ friends. He might yell, but he

wouldn’t hurt her. Anger and relief—and

some other unwelcome emotion—flooded

her. Before she could think it through, she

wound up and chucked the shampoo bottle

at him.

“You scared me half to death, Cabe!”

she yelled.

He fixed her with a hard stare as one

hand shot up effortlessly and caught the

plastic bottle, setting it down carefully by

her things.

She was different now, she reminded

herself. She didn’t need or want his

attention. Not anymore.

“Hell, Rose,” he drawled. “This is my

land. I’d ask what you’re doing here,

except it’s obvious. You shouldn’t be out

here, swimming all by yourself,” he

pointed out calmly. That calm voice was

the voice of reason. Logical. So damned

right
when she was always wrong. “It’s

dark. You’re alone. Does anyone know

you’re here?”

“I’m perfectly safe, Cabe.” She could

hear the tightness in her own voice, but the

adrenaline was subsiding, and no way

she’d admit he was right. She never had

before, and she sure as hell wasn’t starting

now. Let a man like Cabe Dawson know

he had the upper hand, and he’d walk all

over you. “I practically grew up here. Only

people likely to be out here are you and

your brothers.”

He shook his head. “
Likely
doesn’t

mean
certain,
Rose. Shit happens all the time.”

“Yeah.” She carefully slipped her head

backward, keeping her chest underwater.

There were stars overhead—how long had

it been since she’d watched the impossible

crispness of this black sky with its

countless pinpricks of light? Her fingers

worked through her hair, washing out the

last remnants of shampoo. “I know all

about shit happening, Cabe. I don’t need a

lesson from you there.”

He just kept on eyeing her, and she

would have paid the fortune she didn’t

have to know what the man was thinking,

because there was a hot lick of
something

in those dark eyes of his. The Dawson

brothers were all big, dark men with a

family tree rooted on their mother’s side in

the Spanish conquistadors who had

claimed vast swaths of California for their

own. There was an almost possessive

gleam in his eyes as he stood there.

Watching her.

She couldn’t be sure how much of her

was actually on display in the dark, but he

was standing next to her underwear. He

knew damned well that she was swimming

naked. Worse, her awareness of him

created, as it often had, a sweet, hot ache

in her that she knew she shouldn’t

welcome. The sensation had her pressing

her thighs together; thankfully, even
he

couldn’t see that well.

So, she still wanted Cabe Dawson.

Despite herself, then and now. She still

wanted a cowboy who’d often infuriated

her but never shown the slightest interest in

her. Had probably barely even noticed her

except as a neighboring nuisance. She’d

done her best to forget him, had stayed

away for years hoping to do so. Letting him

know she still wanted him would be a

mistake of monumental proportions.

He hadn’t wanted her eight years ago.

He wouldn’t want her now.

And yet, he leaned forward, hands

resting on his knees, and the sheer male

power of him stole her breath away.

Problem was, she’d always had a good

imagination. She’d imagined all too

clearly, before she left Lonesome the last

time, what it might be like to teach Cabe

Dawson a thing or two. On
her
terms.

“If you don’t want me to teach you a

lesson,” he said, as if reading her mind,

reaching down a hand to haul her out,

“don’t make me come in there after you,

Rose.”

She ignored that hand and got on with

washing the rest of the suds out of her hair.

“I mean it.” That rough growl of his

made her wetter than she already was, and

that just made her mad.

Yes, the Dawson brothers were all big

men, and she recognized the protective,

overbearing stance Cabe was taking now.

This man didn’t think she needed to be

where she was, and he’d decided to help

her out with a little redirect. His intentions

might be sweet, but she’d left “sweet”

behind her in the town where she’d grown

up.

“I know you won’t come in after me,

Cabe.” If he did, he’d lower himself to her

level, and that wasn’t like Cabe Dawson at

all. She’d never once seen him yield when

he’d decided to make a stand.

“You sure?” He tossed that hat of his

aside. For a moment, she thought she had

him.

“I’m naked,” she pointed out. Just in

case he’d missed that little fact.

She still couldn’t read him, but she’d

learned years ago how to rile him up. That

knowledge was bittersweet. She wasn’t the

same girl she’d been all those years ago,

but he hadn’t liked that girl anyhow.

“What you are is late,” he growled.

“You were supposed to be in that lawyer’s

office months ago to sign the papers to

settle Auntie Dee’s estate. And you never

showed for the appointment we finally

rescheduled for last week.”

Damn it, she didn’t want to have this

conversation. Not right now, not while she

was naked and he wasn’t. Cabe Dawson

didn’t need that kind of advantage.

“I . . . had things to do.” The excuse

sounded weak even to her own ears.

“Right.” He stared at her. “What kind of

things did you have to do, Rose, that were

more important than coming up here and

settling the estate of the woman who all but

raised you?”

She didn’t like the guilt or panic that

shot through her, an itchy, sickening coil of

unwelcome emotions. She couldn’t explain

why she hadn’t come, why she hadn’t been

ready. Why she couldn’t face the empty

house or Cabe Dawson or any of the

pieces of the life she’d had in Lonesome.

Fighting back a shiver, she crossed her

arms over her breasts as her legs treaded

water. If she’d started any one of those

tasks, she’d have been that much closer to

failing. To not getting it right. So she’d

waited. And then waited some more, until

she’d failed anyhow and could stop

worrying.

“Maybe I just wasn’t ready until now,”

she suggested, as if she hadn’t had lists of

tasks to check off and a timeline for doing

so. As if she hadn’t frozen in panic and

done nothing.
Sweet procrastinator,
she

could almost hear Auntie Dee whisper.

Someday, you’ll figure it out, get yourself

started
.

Cabe didn’t move from his crouch by the

side of the swimming hole, but that big

body of his screamed frustration. He

wasn’t buying the line she was selling.

Cabe Dawson always had been good at

recognizing bullshit.

“Not ready.” His voice was too quiet.

“Well, that’s a hell of a thing, Rose, when

you’ve been asked repeatedly to come on

up here, and you’ve never said why you

couldn’t. What did you think was going to

happen? We’ve all been cooling our heels

waiting for you.”

She stared straight ahead. There was the

quiet disappointment, the disapproval

she’d expected. She’d never pleased him,

had she?

“I should have explained,” she agreed.

She should have. Of course she should

have—and, instead, she’d procrastinated.

Waited, like always, until the last possible

moment.

When she didn’t explain now, he waited

her out, letting the silence stretch between

them.

“But I wasn’t ready, okay, Cabe?” She

wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she blinked

furiously, wanting to curse him while she

just kept right on bobbing in place.

“Hell, Rose.” His hand came up, then

fell back to his thigh. “We would have

been happy to wait for you to be ‘ready’—

you know that. But, darlin’, you have to

either show up or call.”

“You just want to tear down the house

and use the land,” she accused.

“I do.”

He didn’t bother sugarcoating his

intentions, just hit her low and hard with

the truth. A truth that wasn’t going to

become reality if she had her way.

“What if I don’t want to sell it?”

“Hell, what else are you going to do

with that piece of property? You’re

obviously not the settling-down type, Rose,

and it takes cash to run a place like that. A

steady income.”

“You don’t think I could do it? What if I

want to fix the place up, make a home for

myself here?” she said, her heart beating a

little faster at her own audacity.

He didn’t point out that she’d never

before showed any inclination to do so.

Then again, he’d had no way of knowing

that she’d been hoping to make a success

of herself, then come home to care for

Auntie Dee and carve out a better life for

both of them in Lonesome.

She’d just expected to do so before she

lost Auntie Dee.

“Time to get out, Rose.” He reached out

to her again, ignoring her question. For a

moment, temptation beckoned. One good

tug—he wouldn’t be expecting that—and

she’d have him in the water. He simply

waited there, so big and tough and

confident; she wanted to take him down a

notch or two. Put
him
at a disadvantage.

Before she could overthink it, she put

her hand into his. His fingers wrapped

around hers, the muscles tensing to pull her

out. Instead, she pulled, hard.

That large, hard, clothed body hit hers,

his rough curse filling her ears as they both

went under. The delicious coolness of the

water closed over her head, and she went

down, letting the weight of his body pull

her under.

Finally, she’d gotten to him. Same way

he always did to her.

Cabe hit the water hard, twisting to

spare Rose his full weight, because

damned if he had seen
this
coming. He

wasn’t a small man. And the impact had

her slender frame beneath his, both of them

going down deep beneath the surface.

The cold shock of the water felt good,

even if he hadn’t planned on swimming in

his clothes. Or his boots. Rose bucked,

pushing away from him instinctively,

fighting to come back up to the surface, and

his hands brushed her soft skin. It would be

so simple to let his fingers move of their

own accord, trace that slick channel

between her legs. Her body was warm and

supple, despite the chill of the water, and

he wanted to pull her close.

But she wasn’t his to touch. She wasn’t

a woman flirting with her lover. She

thought he was her former best friends’

older brother. Fuck. He didn’t feel the

least bit avuncular. Despite the cold water,

he was rock hard. If he was being honest

with himself, he had been since the moment

he’d seen Rose swimming nude.

Getting an arm beneath her breasts, he

kicked upward with powerful strokes,

bringing her with him toward the surface.

He wasn’t leaving her behind. Rose had

always been resilient, but this wasn’t a

thing to chance. Not in the dark, where it

would be impossible to find her

underwater if something went wrong.

Three hard kicks, and he broke the

surface, her back pressed to his front. She

squirmed desperately, her hands coming up

to push at the arm locking her against him.

“Be still,” he ordered. Damned if he

was going back under until they had a few

things straight, he and Rose. “Did you think

this one through, Rose?”

Her soft laughter was an unexpected

answer. He never had been able to read

her. “No, but you think too much, Cabe.”