The Curvy Astronomer and the Cowboy (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) (6 page)

I opened my mouth to speak. And then froze.

This was only going to be a one night stand. I’d be stupid to think it would be anything else, given the circumstances. Part of me thought that really wouldn’t be so bad--the thought of it had me hot as hell, in fact. But what about tomorrow? What about when we woke up and had to face each other, and he went back to his life in town and I went back to my life on the road. Wouldn’t I feel even colder, for having temporarily felt warm?

“The water’s all yours,” I said. And grabbed my clothes and ran for the cabin.

Inside, I stood there cursing myself for a moment for passing up what was inarguably the best offer I’d ever had. I pulled on fresh clothes and then stood wondering what the hell to do now. I couldn’t go out there while he was naked….

“Emily!” His voice, from outside.

I went to the back door, stopping just before the bath came into sight. “Um. Yep?”

“You should come see the moon.”

I looked up and caught my breath. A break had opened up in the clouds and we had a full, uninterrupted view of the moon. It really would be pretty cool to gaze at it for a while...but to get to the stool, I was going to have to get closer to him. I took a hesitant step outside. Yes, he was in the bath, stark naked. I could see his whole upper body and some of his knees from where I was standing. If I took another step, I’d be able to see
everything.

“Take a seat,” he said, nodding to the stool.

If he’d
asked
me, there’s no way I would have done it. But this was different to when it had been me in the bath. Now, his tone was firmer--he was
telling
me and his voice left no room for disobedience. I’d had gentle; now I was getting firm. And, weirdly, I kind of liked it.

He was giving me one of those smiles. His soft, dark hair was catching glimmers of starlight. His broad chest, shining with water, reflected the moon, a brilliant white glow against the tan perfection of his skin. God, his shoulders were enormous, and his biceps looked like ripe melons--what did he do with the horses, wrestle them into submission? And beneath the strong chest, his waist tightened into gleaming, tightly-banded muscle--

I realized I was unconsciously leaning forward. I snapped myself back and looked away, flushing. “Um...you’re very...
naked,”
I told him.

“Didn’t want to get my hat wet,” he deadpanned.

I cautiously turned to face him again and we locked eyes. God, that teasing, sexy smirk. It felt like it was connected to a wire that ran straight to my heart, and from there right down to my groin.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If you want to look.”

My eyes bugged out. “What? I don’t want to look! I wasn’t--” And I quickly walked forward, through the danger zone where I could see him and over to the stool and within a few seconds I was sitting there serenely, listening to his soft chuckle. And my cheeks were flaming hot, because--

I’d looked.

Just a glance. Just for a split second as I drew near to him, I’d looked down and seen strongly muscled thighs, the sort that could drive a man into a girl for hours at a time. A perfect Adonis belt, pointing like a signpost towards--

I closed my eyes for a second, remembering.
God.
I’d never seen one that long before, or quite that thick.
Big.
Not scary big, but catch-your-breath big. Hot-ripple-in-your-groin big. Not-sure-if-I-could-take-him-but-I’d-sure-as-hell-love-to-try big.

I sat there brooding for a moment. Was getting me out here again his way of giving me another chance? Letting me nudge this towards sex if I wanted to? Why didn’t
he
just make a move? Was it because he knew I’d say no...could he somehow know, instinctively, that if it was going to happen between us, it had to come from me?
How could he possibly know that?!

I looked up at the moon, letting its silver light soak my face. “Thank you,” I said. “For getting me to come out here. I mean, a lot of guys wouldn’t...you know. Admit to finding the moon beautiful.”

He let out a sudden laugh and it was a rich, rolling sound--the sort of laugh that makes you smile when you hear it. “That how the guys are in the city? Scared of saying they like something beautiful, ‘cause then they might not be a man?”

I nodded carefully. “Some of them.”

He chuckled. “I like the moon, but I’m pretty sure I’m still a guy.” Then I heard him sniff. “Although....Emily, what did you put in the bath water?”

“Oh! Shower gel. Honeysuckle and jasmine.”

He sniffed again. “I smell like a damn flower garden.” And then there was the roar of falling water as he stood up. “But I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

I flushed again and swallowed. “No,” I said tightly.

I heard him towel off and then stand there naked. “I’m going to head inside now,” he told me.

“Okay.”
I will not turn around, I will not turn around, I will not--

My last view of him, as he walked back into the cabin, was of his perfect naked butt, muscular and ripe, framed between wide shoulders and strong thighs. He’d put his hat back on, the rest of his clothes dangling from one big hand.

I took a deep breath, waited until I heard him bed down on the couch, and went inside.

***

Between all the hours I’d spent driving, the late hour and the soak in the tub, I should have fallen asleep in seconds. But instead, I found myself lying there on the ancient--but supremely comfortable--iron bed, too aroused to sleep but too warm and relaxed to do anything about it.

My body felt...different. Just as curvy as before but, somehow, not quite so awful. And I realized that the way I’d felt about him had changed, too. I’d seen him naked. He’d become somehow less of a fantasy figure and more real. I was even more turned on by him and yet also more comfortable around him. Maybe that’s what he’d been intending--he’d known all along that nothing would happen tonight, but that I’d come out of it a little less skittish.

Was it possible that he was...
taming
me?

After a while, I started to lazily trace the shape of one breast with my fingertips. And then the curve of my hip and then...inwards.

By the time I came, I was back in the stagecoach with Troy making slow, languorous love to me. It wasn’t a bite-your-fist, aching muscles orgasm. It was more like a gentle wave breaking over me, warm and almost healing.

Chapter 5

When I sleepily emerged the next morning, Troy had coffee ready. There were no filter papers, just an old enamel jug full of steaming water and grounds. I frowned as he poured it through a metal strainer into my mug.

“That’s how we make it, out here,” he told me. “It’s better, this way.”

When I tasted it, I had to agree. It was as rich and warming and slap-you-across-the-face powerful as the stuff in the diner.
Maybe I’ll get one of those strainers,
I thought.
For when I’m on the road.

My stomach flipped over. Tonight was our last night. Once I’d got the photos, I’d be on my way.

Troy was fiddling with a radio that looked as if it’d been in the cabin since before he was born. He listened carefully to a weather forecast. Between the crackly reception and the announcer’s heavy local accent, I couldn’t decipher much of it, but apparently Troy could because he said, “Snow’s coming. It’ll be here by midnight.”

“Which direction?” I asked instantly.

“From the mountains.”

I grabbed my coffee and ran outside. Just as I’d hoped, it was a beautifully clear day and--I held a finger up--yep, the wind was blowing in from the peaks. I squinted and could just see clouds on the horizon, beyond the mountains. “It’s okay,” I said. “As long as it doesn’t reach us until midnight, I’ll still have a clear view of the sky over towards--”

I broke off. Troy was standing in the doorway, staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Just--stay where you are,” he told me. He took a step towards me, very slowly, as if he was trying not to spook me. There was something in the way he did it that told me something huge was about to happen. My heart jumped and swelled in my chest. Everything was suddenly very quiet. The wind in my ears and my own breathing was deafening.

Troy was nearly to me, now, and he looked scared. Scared that he was about to make a mistake, if he tried to kiss me?!
You’re not!
I thought desperately, trying to send the idea by telepathy.
Do it!

He grabbed my hand. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, tilting my head up towards him.

“Very slowly, without looking at him, walk towards the house,” said Troy

I frowned, my eyes still closed. It wasn’t what I’d expected to hear. ”Without looking at who?” I asked.

“There’s a bear behind you,” he whispered.

Forgetting what he’d told me, I looked over my shoulder, mainly so that I could say,
Of course there isn’t a bear behind me.

There was a bear behind me. A bear the size of a small car, its heavy body rolling from side to side as it lumbered forward out of the trees. It was no more than thirty feet away from us and coming closer. As I watched, it opened its mouth in what might have been a silent snarl or might have been a yawn. Its jaws were big enough to go around my head.

Troy tugged on my arm. I let him tow me back towards the cabin, my feet slipping and skittering under me as I did my best to get my numb legs to walk. A moment later, we were inside in the warm and the door was closed.

We watched through the window as the bear ambled up to the trailer and sniffed it suspiciously. It nudged against it, which rocked the whole thing on its wheels. The power of the thing was breathtaking. It turned and gave us a baleful glare through the window, then padded back into the forest.

“There are really bears,” I said in a small voice.

“Yeah,” said Troy. “There are really bears.” He let out a long breath. “I haven’t seen one that close, though, not in years. I guess I haven’t been up here, much. He must have gotten bold.” He frowned. “He seemed very interested in your trailer. You don’t have any food in there, do you?”

I thought guiltily of the bacon.
Yeah, I gorge on bacon sandwiches when I’m sitting out there all alone.
“Nope,” I said firmly. “Nothing but star charts. Shouldn’t bears be hibernating?”

Troy shook his head. “They don’t always sleep right through the winter. Maybe this one didn’t get enough food in him before the snow hit, or something woke him up. We should be okay in here. I’m surprised he even came toward us when you were out there--normally, they avoid people. At least he knew you were there, though. The most dangerous thing you can do is surprise them.”

I nodded, still shaken. A moment later, I felt an arm slip around my shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said, and his voice instantly made me believe that it was. “No one got hurt. It’s all good.” His arm was warm and heavy and supremely comforting. I was a little scared at how badly I wanted to grab hold of it.

When he moved away from me, it was like a physical loss. He gently took my empty coffee mug from my fingers--I’d spilled it, sometime during my escape from the bear--and began to make me a fresh one. I loved that about him--that he knew what I needed even before I did.

I looked out of the window. The bear had disappeared into the trees, but I could still see his tracks in the snow. I shook my head. “I can’t imagine living out here...it’s like everything’s trying to kill you. The roads, the weather, the wildlife.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather raise kids here than in a city. Do you know what the last crime was we had in Mustang Falls?”

I waited.

“A kidnapping.”

My eyes went wide. “That’s
awful!”

“Of a mule. Two farmers had a disagreement over whose animal was the father. Eventually, the sheriff gave them joint custody of the mule.” He passed me my coffee and sat down at the table with me. He looked incongruous in such a domestic scene, hulking there across the table from me. If the bear had been sitting there, it would scarcely have been weirder.

And yet...even if he looked like a man who should be outdoors, felling trees by pushing on them, he
fitted.
It felt comfortable, sitting there with him. Back in San Fran, Rick--just thinking the name made me tense up--had always given the impression that he felt trapped, sitting indoors--he wanted to be out making his next deal, hustling for money. But I’d noticed that Troy was strangely domesticated. He could cook, which was more than a lot of men in San Fran could do. The men here were self-sufficient, I realized. They didn’t have laundry service or maids or cooks or home grocery delivery--they did it all themselves because they had to. A
cowboys darn their own socks,
sort of a thing. In a way, the guys you’d expect to be the least suited to home life were maybe the most.

“And you’d want...kids?” I asked slowly. It
did
seem like a nice place to raise children. If you were that sort of woman, I mean. The sort men wanted as the mother of their children, all slim and pretty and able to bake cupcakes.