The Cattleman (7 page)

Beth tipped her head back. There were tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. Tears of laughter. She drew in several deep breaths, slowing down to talk. “Oh, wow, that was so funny.”

“I thought you were upset.”

“Oh, no. Pull over a horse? Ha ha. I crack myself up.” She hobbled to the edge of the path, bending at the waist and stretching.

He took the reins of both horses, enjoying the view. He liked that about her. She’d apologized while admitting she knew nothing about riding, but then laughed at herself without a second thought.

Joining her near the slippery rock slope, he stuck his free hand in his front pocket while the other kept the horses just behind him. He tried to back up with no luck. There was plenty of open space around them, but it sure felt snug.

“We better get moving and get to high ground before this weather turns on us.” If they stayed there, he’d kiss those soft luscious lips that tasted like a Chapstick version of cherry that he couldn’t get enough of. Then he’d fall into her, letting every curve she had press next to him. Pulling her closer until it wasn’t close enough.

“Nick? You okay?”

Stumbling backward, he startled the horses while slipping on loose pebbles under his boots. What the hell was the matter with him today? He’d practically had Beth’s clothes off in his vision. He could feel the blood rushing, the anticipation of taking her was already killing him. He swiped at his sweating brow and knocked off his hat.

Applewine spooked as if a rattlesnake were striking. She reared up, pulling his arm with it.

Beth’s fear didn’t keep her from rushing forward, latching on to her horse’s bridle and yanking down. Shoulder to shoulder with Nick again, she rubbed Applewine’s light tan forehead with her knuckles.

“Don’t you dare bite me, you old nag.”

“I got ’em.”

“Are you certain? You seem to be fading out somewhere.”

The first pings of sleet bounced off his hat that had fallen to the ground. “Time for talking later. Mount up. We’ve got to get shelter.”

“Are you sure we can’t just hug a tree trunk until this passes?”

“You’d be standing there quite a while.” He snatched his hat from the rocks.

“You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I did not mean that like you think.”

“Cover your face with your scarf, keep your head down and let Applewine do her job. Just relax. She’ll follow behind Rocket without questioning a thing. If you could do that, I’d appreciate it.”

A quiet harrumph and her lips tightened like she’d superglued them together. She clicked and cooed to her horse as she’d been taught, but was silent for the hour it took to get to the cabin.

They stabled the horses where she opened her mouth, looked at him, and then changed her mind. Warm, brushed and fed, the animals would be protected and comfortable in the lean-to.

Maybe he should have told her about the cabin earlier and that they’d have a bed—or couch—to sleep on. But he hadn’t made up his mind to head this direction until the sleet had begun.

Imagining the impossibly close quarters of a tent was what made him hightail it here.

He grabbed an armful of wood from the pile near the cabin. Beth did the same.

“What is this place? And don’t you dare say it’s a cabin. I can see that much.”

“Then why did you ask?”

She dropped the stack of wood, then placed her fisted hands on her hips and cracked her neck as if she was about to pull a trigger.

“We actually crossed over to Kate’s land. The place belongs to her, but I use it from time to time.”

“So no sleeping under the stars to clear your head tonight?”

“I thought this would be a little more comfortable for you.” He knelt to start the fire.

“Actually, I won’t lie. I appreciate it. I could do with some hot coffee and grub.”

He couldn’t help it, his head whipped around to look at the city girl who had just used the word
grub
.

“Isn’t that the word?”

“Sure it is, but since when do you talk like that?”

“I figured, when in Rome... Your dad says it like that all the time when he signs off from his chat rooms. I’ve also heard it in the movies.” She’d fallen asleep watching a Western almost every night. “Where’s the coffeemaker?”

“I’m building it.”

She let out a long sigh and collapsed on the bench seat next to the door.

“Dinner’s leftover turkey and biscuits. They’re in my saddlebags.” He knelt by the fireplace, stacking and breaking some homemade quick starters into the kindling.

Beth closed her eyes.

“Coffee’s there, too.”

“Sorry, I don’t think I can move.” But she did. She flipped open his gear and dug through the side with food, then shuffled her boots across the wooden floor before she plopped on the couch. Opening the ziplock bags, she dropped them on the coffee table.

He remembered all too late what he’d thrown in the top of the other bag. Condoms. How would she react if she knew he’d had no intention of leaving without her this morning?

Now that he was here, he had no intention of starting the generator for electricity. Yet. He had other ideas about how to keep warm.

“Is that a working potbellied stove?”

“They didn’t haul it up here for decoration. I’ll get it started after I get water on to boil.”

She pulled a pillow next to her and sort of slid sideways to get her head to it. She was asleep before he could get inside a cabinet and retrieve a blanket to cover her up. He tugged one of her purple rhinestone boots and then the other, dropping each. The loud noise when they hit the floor didn’t get a flinch. She was passed out like he’d slipped her a sleeping pill.

“There’s always tomorrow.”

He piled logs on the fire, closed up the food and toed his own boots off his feet. There was a comfortable mattress in the other room, but he’d get stiff from the cold. He took a step toward the rocker, but instead he lifted Beth’s head, deciding on the end of the couch.

She squirmed a little, settling comfortably in his lap. He draped another blanket over his legs, tucked her blanket up to her chin and closed his eyes, regretting the images of Mac holding a gun and a person with no face pulling the strings.

The fire had faded and the room had chilled so he must have gotten some sleep. Beth mumbled a couple of indiscernible words.

Glancing at his watch, he saw it was after midnight. The day he’d dreaded for weeks had arrived. A day to avoid. A day to make decisions. Funny thing was...all he wanted to do was lie down next to the woman who was already halfway in his arms.

If he could hold on to her, he had a feeling that everything would be fine—at least for a little while.

Chapter Eight

Beth woke with a blast of thunder. A bolt of lightning flashed, filling the room with a blinding white light, then another loud crash. At some point, Nick had carried her to bed. She was so tired she’d slept through it. Unfortunately. She would have enjoyed his arms around her.

“You okay?” Nick asked in a whisper of a whisper, so soft she wondered if he was a dream.

So soft was his voice that if she hadn’t been awake, he wouldn’t have interrupted her sleep. And he wasn’t interrupting it. Not from that far away in the stiff-backed chair. She’d given her word not to push a relationship, but he’d given his to take full advantage of having fun.

With all the hard work they’d been putting into learning to ride and self-defense, wasn’t it time for some of that fun?

Another lightning bolt struck. The thunder followed too quickly.

“That was a little close.”

“Always seems closer up here.” One of his arms was crooked behind his head, supporting it. He couldn’t be comfortable trying to sleep there. If he was trying to sleep at all.

Beth pushed into a sitting position, resting her back against the headboard. She was still fully clothed without her boots. “I must have been exhausted to have slept through dinner.”

“And moving you here. We both fell asleep. You warm enough? I could start another fire.”

The flash outside the window backlit him again. But she knew what his face looked like. She’d studied it all week and could tell when he was full of concern or teasing her by offering to do something with no real intention of following through. Their week had been full of polite comments and then a jerk of his thumb gesturing where an item was located so she’d get it herself.

He was lying about him getting any sleep. He rarely did. And she didn’t care about a fire. But she wanted warmth. His warmth.

“You’ll have a stiff neck in the morning if you stay like that.” The bright light from the storm illuminated her watch. “Oh, gosh, it’s only one o’clock? I feel like I’ve had ten hours of sleep.”

“Snored like it, too.”

“Take that back and I’ll let you share this mattress with me.” Great invitation. But she didn’t want to take her words back or lie that she’d misspoken. She actually meant it exactly the way it sounded.

Nick rubbed the stubble on his chin. She could hear his nails scrape lightly and shivered. She knew what his chin felt like against the softness of her skin.

“I was just teasing. You don’t snore.” He sat forward, leaning on his knees, hidden by the darkness. “If you’re cold, I guess I could keep you warm.”

She began to scoot to the opposite side of the bed, but the cold sheets—even through her clothes—brought her to an abrupt stop. “You’ll have to make do with me in the middle. I am not about to freeze my tush off over there. I’ll never get back to sleep.”

“Do you need more sleep?” He stood and pulled his tan shirt, then the black cold-weather shirt off, leaving the white undershirt in place.

“Do you?”

Memories from their night in the mountains made her fingers curl around the edge of the quilt. She kicked the covers away from her legs. Desire heating her skin made it ache for the coolness of the crisp air.

Light from the storm hung in the room long enough to see his jaw clench. “I don’t think sleep’s in the cards tonight.”

For a second she thought he referred to making love to her. Then she understood what day it was. Of course he wouldn’t be sleeping. It was the reason they’d come here. He’d been shot a year ago today.

Her body cooled in the mountain air. Then she saw Nick’s belt was unbuckled. She didn’t need any light to recognize the sound of a zipper slipping open or his jeans falling to the cabin floor. It wasn’t as far to the bed as when he’d been sitting in the old chair. She didn’t have long to wait.

She wasn’t cold any longer. The thought of how they’d warm each other was pushing everything else from her mind. She shimmied out of her own jeans, leaving the unattractive long underwear in sight.

Even unable to see Nick’s features she knew he laughed slightly at the sight. She didn’t care. She’d leave them on if it lightened his heart for a few minutes. Her fingers were at her waistband, ready to lift her legs awkwardly and pull them off before he took another step.

“Hold on,” he whispered again.

His hands covered hers, lifting them to her sides. He gently tugged and her leggings curled down her thighs, followed by two burning trails made by his knuckles. He rolled a wool sock to her toes, rubbing her ankle, then massaging her foot. She could have died and gone to heaven right then. But her experience with Nick let her know that dying wasn’t necessary... Heaven was just minutes away.

First one foot and then the other. He kneaded her sore muscles right up to her thighs. She gasped, not from embarrassment or shock... “Pure bliss. You must have a lot of practice massaging women to have honed your technique to perfection.”

He laughed from his chest that time. “The horses seem to like it. Roll over. I know what’s really sore.”

“That’s not—”

He crossed her ankles and began flipping her to her stomach. She allowed her body to follow and immediately received a deep kneading. His comfortable, knowing touch soon made her relax. And moan. Especially when he reached her back and shoulders.

“Stop tensing up.”

“Are you kidding?” she mumbled into the pillow. “You’ll need a bowl to scoop me into soon. I’m melting like ice cream.”

“Not yet you aren’t.” His tone changed, both in his voice and hands.

Instead of the deep massage her muscles had wanted, his strokes were long and feather soft, feeding a different craving. He no longer touched her through her clothing. His calloused fingers skimmed across her skin exciting her entire body. He leaned over her, nuzzling the base of her neck.

Barely touching her with his lips, he then dragged the tip of his tongue to her shoulder. She wanted to squeal with delight at the way he caused her body to react.

Since he leaned on the side of the bed, she turned onto her back again. But before she relaxed, she removed her shirts. Nick helped, tossing them on the chair behind him. She began to remove her bra, but his hands delayed her action, gently pushing her shoulders to the mattress.

All the while, the storm raged outside the thick-paned window. The lightning was more rapid followed by almost constant rolling thunder.

Rugged fingertips traced the outline of the top of her bra. She might have been wearing long underwear and working on a ranch, but the black lace made her feel at home. Much more herself. Even attractive. Almost as attractive as how Nick was making her feel at that moment.

“You are so dang beautiful.” He fingered an errant strand of hair from her face.

She was far from beautiful and parted her lips to protest, only to have Nick pull her quickly to him and slash his mouth across hers. She’d missed kissing him during the past two weeks. As close as their workouts had brought them, the temptation to taste him again had been there every day.

She stretched her arms around his back, wanting skin. But he was still in his undershirt. She knew he’d stay within the safety of the soft cotton to keep her from seeing his scars. No matter how much she tugged, he’d distract her by being extra generous with himself.

They fell to the soft mattress, his hard body stretched on top of hers. He ran a hand down her thigh, guiding her leg to bend and wrap around him and making her heart race at the intensity of his touch.

He traced her collarbone with his mouth. “I love your legs. Love the fit of you against me.” He emphasized his words by dropping his pelvis against hers.

Her mouth opened again and his tongue was there to pleasantly invade, dancing a dance that had stood the test of time. Without words he invited her to join him.

Or maybe she’d been inviting him all along? She didn’t care. She wanted him and it was evident he wanted her. She slid her arms higher along his back, under his shirt. He quickly pushed himself up, taking the pressure of his chest from hers and lifting his back out of her reach. She immediately missed his warmth, his weight...his everything.

She shoved her arms to unlock his elbows. He descended back on top of her, catching himself in a push-up at the last minute. She used his surprise to flip and roll him to his back. She pinned his shoulders, keeping his shocked, gorgeous eyes focused on her. They’d performed this move a hundred times in the hay with almost as little clothing separating their bodies.

But now...

Now they didn’t have to worry about someone walking in and discovering them. Close enough to know how the next part of this journey played out. Only a couple of heartbeats from heaven again.

“That’s a beginner move. You’re so past that. I can’t believe you let me get the best of you.” She spoke softly and close to his whiskered face.

“Babe, that is definitely not the best part of me.” He stretched. His mouth seized her nipple through the lace. “Come here...and I’ll show...you...” Between his words he scraped his teeth gently, then captured her sensitive skin again.

What could she say? She gasped. She could only remain motionless and absorb all the wonderful sensations pulling at her body. At every smidgen of her body. Luxuriate in the tingles pooling and building like a bottle of champagne that needed to be uncorked.

How could this man affect her so deeply? Attraction was one thing. This was so much more. Did she have the same effect on him? He’d sworn he wouldn’t succumb to sex, yet here they were. Had he taken her up on the fun she’d so bravely offered in retaliation to him recoiling at their fake engagement?

Why the debate? She could have fun. So much fun. And, oh, gracious, she could feel. His hands wrapped around her breasts, kneading them until her arms were wobbly and she collapsed on his chest.

His knuckle nudged her mouth to his once more then continued around to wrap his fingers at the back of her neck. He held her in place. His kiss was hard, excited, ready...along with the rest of him.

She gulped part of his air and forced her mouth away, letting the day’s scruff on his chin scrape her cheek. She hooked a finger on each side of his boxers and inched them down his legs.

His large hands framed her hips, but hers stopped their exploration of his chest. He quirked an eyebrow, questioning her. “Oh, yeah, sorry. It’s in my jeans.”

“You certainly were sure of yourself packing a condom on your mountain campout.”

He tried to move, but she remained sitting lightly across his thighs. The white of his shirt was easy to see, unlike his eyes. She was so excited she was breathing hard and way too fast. She needed to be daring, bold.

“I want to see you,” she finally got out.

A bright flash filled the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and when they did, he pointed to his body.

“That’s about all there is.” He grinned, the white of his teeth reflecting the little light from the other side of the window.

“You know what I’m talking about.” She lifted the bottom of his undershirt. “You don’t have to hide it. Or is there some reason you don’t want me to see you completely naked?”

He threaded his fingers through hers, bringing their fists together at his navel and removing them from the edge of his shirt. “I haven’t let anyone. Not since the hospital.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s not supposed to,” he whispered.

She didn’t understand why it was important to get his shirt off. Maybe she wanted more than just a meaningless bout of fun. But it was important. A step toward getting to know the real man and not just the guy who was part of her assignment.

A crack of thunder and shot of lightning made her jerk back, taking his hands with her. He followed. They sat awkwardly with their hands somewhat near his lap.

The moment of their passion had passed, but he hadn’t said he wouldn’t show his scar to her.

She slowly backed off his legs and tugged him to his feet. They might have looked silly, moving to a thick-paned window...her in black lace underwear and him wearing only a white shirt. She drew him closer to the window. The wood floor froze her feet. The cold air made her shiver.

Nick tried to pull her into his arms, but she refused. Her fingers went to the edge of his shirt as their eyes locked and she tried to be reassuring. It wasn’t her best characteristic. Her parents had reminded her several times.

Seconds later, Nick raised his arms and his shirt was off. He was breathing hard, as if he’d run the Lake Michigan shoreline. She flattened her palms over his chest. Compared to hers, his was fiery hot. Warmth shot through her arms.

Touching him was enough to fuel the fire between them. He closed his eyes, one hand on the windowsill, one across her shoulder. He looked petrified. She could feel his forearm muscles tense, attempting to get himself under control.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t be detoured by the desire to comfort him. This was important. Even without a proper term to describe it or a degree in counseling, she knew it was time he showed her.

Distant thunder. A gleam of distant light. More distance between them.

Keeping her eyes locked with his, her hand skimmed the light dusting of hair across his ruggedly hard chest. Again he stopped her. Was her hand trembling or was his?

“It’s okay,” she crooned, trying to convince them both. To convince them that everything would be fine for him and that she knew what she was doing. She dropped her gaze to the puckered, jagged scar. She gently touched the edges.

Nick threw his head back and closed his eyes, unable to watch the look he knew would be on her face. It had been bad enough with the nurses at the hospital.

Beth had a gentle touch. He wasn’t worried about that. The pain was in his head, not his shoulder, not his chest. The creased skin wasn’t so bad in his back. A smaller hole that hadn’t torn him apart like the exit wound.

Beth’s nails drew an outline around the top of the jagged marks, then came to an abrupt halt at what hardly anyone knew about. She looked at him, questioning the six- inch scar down his breastbone. Her hand flattened over his heart. She leaned forward, gently kissed his scar and rested her cheek against him.