Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? (29 page)

He held out his hand and she shook it, but he didn’t let her go. He gave a gentle tug and her body fell flush against his. “Let’s work out the arrangements of this deal in the bedroom.”

R
iley stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom he shared with Seth and finished shaving the last bit of scruff from his chin. He grinned as he pulled on his white dress shirt, imagining his toughened foreman in a top hat and tails. Thankfully Cookie wasn’t a tuxedo kind of guy. Riley hoped the man knew what he was getting into. Meagan was sweet on the surface, but who knew if she was showing Cookie her true self? She was, after all, a woman, and friends with…He shook his head in an attempt to clear all thoughts of
her
.

She
had arrived last night while Riley was out with Cookie, Seth, and Meagan’s brothers. When they’d gotten back from the low-key bachelor party, vanilla pervaded the kitchen, like she’d marked her territory. One whiff and blood had rushed to his groin. His fingers ached to caress the softness of her hair and his mouth craved the taste of hers. He’d focused on remembering the chaos she’d made of his life and told his body to quit its treacherous reaction.

A high-pitched squeal echoed from somewhere downstairs. He’d been listening to that sound all week as wedding gifts were opened or friends and family arrived. Flinging his light sport coat over one shoulder, he left the house and headed toward Cookie’s cabin, surrounded by the welcoming earthy aroma of fresh-cut grass on the trimmed path.

“It’s open!” Cookie hollered in response to Riley’s knock. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

The sweet odor of hay that normally pervaded Cookie’s cabin had been replaced by lemon and traces of Meagan’s fresh, clean scent. While Riley waited on his friend, he paced the cabin’s sitting area, hiding a smile at the overt signs of a female’s touch that had crept into every little corner of the formerly masculine residence. Flowers in vases lined the living room, another reminder of
her
. New matching cushions decorated the sofa, and crisp dishtowels lay next to the stove in a neat stack. To Meagan’s credit, the pillow and towel designs were artsy swirls of browns and blues and abstract patterns of greens and yellows. They suited Cookie just fine.

The bedroom door opened and the older man entered the small room, his usual jeans and work shirt replaced by a sharp black suit, though spit-shined boots poked out from under his trousers. A pang resonated deep in Riley’s chest. Cookie’s lined face reflected a happiness that Riley had never seen, and it gave the foreman the youthful look of a man in love.

“You’re here early,” Cookie said.

Riley clasped the other man’s hand in a mixed gesture of good luck and congratulations and gave him a hearty slap on the back. “Women are streaming out from all over the house. I figured I should stay out of their way. Besides, as best man, it’s my duty to keep you company.” And provide him with an escape route in case he changed his mind. Not to mention
she
would be crawling around his home and land, claiming to be doing something with the damn flowers.

A brisk knock sounded and sent a rush through his blood. He stopped denying his hunger for her, but seeing her again would give him the chance to tell her how perverse her coming here was. She must think him really gullible, buying this bull about helping Meagan with the flowers. He answered the door, ready to demand she return to South Carolina and away from his craving for her.

“
Go maire tu!
Congratulations!” Meagan’s brother Quinn stepped into the cabin, dressed in a sport coat like Riley and with a bottle of Clontarf Irish Whiskey raised high above his head. Not who Riley had expected. The muscles in his body stayed clenched as he stood back from the door, letting Quinn in. There would be no relaxing until he saw her.

Meagan’s oldest brother Merrick followed, carrying some glasses. “To the groom!”

The entire Donnelly clan had the same clear blue eyes and dark hair. They had welcomed Cookie without any sort of protest at the age difference between him and their sister, treating him like a brother and a friend: Cookie had found a second family.

Setting aside the mess of hell his feelings had become, Riley joined the brothers as they herded Cookie into the small yellow kitchen. Merrick poured everyone a shot of the amber liquid. Cookie tossed his back and smacked the glass on the table, then held out his hand to his soon-to-be brothers.

When another knock sounded at the door, Quinn left to answer it and Riley gulped his drink. A feminine voice floated to the kitchen and twisted his gut with its slight southern accent. Cookie threw him an assessing glance he ignored. This was not the day or the time to embrace his feminine side and share his conflicted emotions. Instead, he dragged one of the wooden chairs away from the table and settled himself into it. She could do what she needed to do and he could stay corralled in the kitchen.

“Boutonnières, gentlemen!” Quinn called from the living room. Cookie and Merrick left to get their damn flowers, leaving him alone, fightingh the desire to rush to her and see if she could still turn him on with only a look of her green eyes. Letting her go had been hard, but he was right. Sex was one thing. Turning it into a game of manipulation was another.

“Riley, you coming?” Quinn shouted.

No. The kitchen was safe. He sighed in resignation and entered the sitting area. Quinn held a small cardboard box with one hand and Ainsley’s arm with the other. The tendrils of betrayal curled around him.

Her beautiful features held an unreadable expression as Riley raked his hardened gaze over her, though her eyes narrowed slightly. The long waves of her hair were tied up in a ponytail, but a few locks had escaped and brushed against her cheeks. Stray leaves and flower petals clung to her work shirt and spots of water dotted her jeans. A white-hot streak of lust blazed through him and he leaned against the nearest wall, holding himself in place.

“Okay, great. Thanks, Quinn.” Ainsley’s words came too fast. A meaningless smile graced her lips, but her eyes reflected the lust in his own. “The larger boutonnière is for Riley.”

“Why does Riley get the larger one?” Merrick asked, peering into the box.

Heat suffused her face, turning her pale cheeks bright pink. “No, I mean the larger one is for Cookie. I’ll see everybody at the wedding.” She spun to leave, but Meagan’s brother kept his hold on her. Riley fought the urge to intervene. She could handle herself fine; he knew that from experience.

“Just a minute, Flower Girl,” Quinn said. “Promise to dance with me.”

“I have to go,” she protested, raising and lowering her hand in an overdone handshake in a futile attempt to extract it from Quinn’s.

“Say you’ll dance with me.”

Silence followed as she turned and shot Riley a pointed stare. His lips compressed with the unspoken challenge.
Let’s see what she does
. If she spoke to him, or turned her seductive smile on him, he'd only take a second to whisk her out of there and into his room to use her the same way she’d used him.

“Fine. A dance, fine,” she said, giving her attention back to the younger man and leaving Riley with an ache in his gut. Quinn kissed her knuckles before he let her go and she fled the cabin.

Her absence left a roaring silence in Riley’s head and he followed her outside, his body moving of its own volition. He matched her pace as she headed toward the white rented van but didn’t speak. Palpable tension made her movements quick and sharp as she took a key out of her pocket and unlocked the hatch. He slapped his hand down to prevent her from opening it. She froze.

“What do you want?” A cutting glare accompanied her words and her eyes flashed in anger, making them darker, more sexy.

You
. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“You followed me to ask me that? I don’t believe this.” She hoisted the door up despite his attempt to stop her. Heavy floral scents surrounded them even though the van was empty except for her garment bag. She grabbed the bag and slammed the back hatch shut. He had to jerk his hand out of the way. He shifted to block her path.

“You didn’t answer my question.” If she wanted to get past him, she’d have to knock him over like a bad fence post.

Ainsley bared her teeth. “Meagan and I are friends. She invited me.”

“You expect me to believe that? You haven’t known her that long. Maybe two months?”

“How long did I know you before I fell in love? Way less time than that.” She barreled past him, her shoulder pushing into his chest, shoving him out of her way.

He drew in a quick breath to stop the growl rising in his throat. She was lying. It was the only justification for the words he could come up with. Still, his body yearned to feel hers against him. To devour her until she succumbed to the hunger between them. To bury himself within her while she moaned beneath him. She hadn’t felt love. She had felt the same consuming, intense, raw lust he did. He caught up to her as she reached her rented cabin.

“Hey!” He grasped her shoulder and she whirled around, her body spinning into his. The dress bag fell in the dirt and he wound his hand around the back of her neck. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her nails stinging his muscles. He captured her lips, the pressure forcing her mouth open. His tongue danced with hers, stroking its velvety softness. “This is right,” he muttered, eager to consume the rest of her. Ainsley’s warmth enveloped him and he breathed her in.The scent of vanilla filled his nose, blocking awareness of everything else around him except the woman in his arms.

Her breathing hitched and she took a step back. He followed, unwilling to let go, until she shoved him, hard. His footing slipped and he stumbled a bit before regaining his balance. Barely veiled anguish shone in her eyes. A misstep from him here would send her galloping away.

Ainsley’s slap stung against his cheek. “Bastard,” she spit out, then leapt into the cabin and slammed the door.

The saner part of him recognized this was not the time to pursue her, but his testosterone-fueled blood urged him to destroy the wooden barrier between them. Seconds later the cabin door creaked open and Ainsley glided back outside, her back stiff, chin raised and lips compressed, her eyes darting anywhere but at him and wet with unshed tears.

“Excuse me,” she said, then picked up her garment bag and slid back into her cabin.

Ainsley leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Hot tears slid down her face. Completely unfair. Unfair that his powerful masculinity called to every feminine part of her. Unfair that she had to be so close to him and know that he only wanted her in his bed—not in his heart. Unfair that even now, his pure earthy maleness clung to her clothes, taunting her. She sank to the floor and drew her knees to her chin, closing her eyes as she gave in to the sobs that wracked her shaking body.

No one would miss her if she hid. Meagan would be too involved with her own plans to notice if Ainsley concealed herself in her cabin until the wedding was over. Molly and Jeanne would probably be thrilled if she stayed away. She could go see if the flowers in the greenhouse had thrived and avoid everyone and everything that screamed
Riley
.

What about not letting anyone else rule your life?
her suppressed rebel challenged.
You’re going to miss your friend’s wedding because you’re being a weenie.
Dammit.

She pushed up off the floor and dried her cheeks with shaking palms. She grabbed the fallen garment bag and hung it on the hook in the bathroom, then scrubbed her face and hands. Her nose glowed red and blotches covered her skin, but the color would fade once she got herself back under control. Meanwhile, she’d shower and do her pre-wedding flower check after getting dressed. She’d sit in the front row and ignore that damned cowboy while supporting her friend at the start of her new life.

Tears of happiness smarted behind Ainsley’s eyes. Meagan and Cookie had timed everything perfectly, reciting their vows as the sun set over the mountains. Even Ainsley’s internal turmoil couldn’t keep her from smiling for her friend, whose love for her new husband radiated from her vibrant blue eyes. After the ceremony, Ainsley made sure Meagan’s flowers hadn’t slipped from their tightly fitted bouquet before she ducked away from the picture taking and hopped on a hayride to the reception. The men could fix their own flowers.

She grabbed the wagon sides to keep herself from jostling around and figured out how long she needed to stay at the reception to be polite before she ran back to her cabin. Again.

“Ainsley!” Jeanne’s voice cast a net of unease over her but she pasted on a smile for the girl. Jeanne squealed and bounded out of her seat to envelop Ainsley in an exuberant hug. Molly didn't move to greet her and sat with her arms crossed, a small frown fixed on her mouth as she assessed Ainsley with hooded hazel eyes.

“I’m so glad you came back.” Jeanne plopped down next to her. Her hair had been curled and she wore a little makeup, making her look older than her fourteen years. “Riley’s been so grumpy ever since everyone left. He won't even play poker with me. I had no idea Cookie and Meagan had something going on, but I knew the two of you belonged together. Isn’t it funny how this singles research all worked out? Maybe you can move here now and get married, too.”

Ainsley’s tightened throat and a rough bounce prevented her from answering right away, giving her a chance to think of a way to let the girl down easy. “I’m not here for Riley, Jeanne.”

Jeanne’s eyebrows drew down and her lip stuck out. “Then why are you here? You guys were so cute together, trying to hide when everyone knew what was going on anyway.”

“Yes, why are you here?” Molly asked. Her closed-off features destroyed any flicker of hope Ainsley might have entertained of resuming a friendship. “Why did you even come the first time?”

No more justifying her life decisions to anyone. “Don’t tell me you believed the ridiculous rumors, Molly.” Ainsley didn’t care if her curt response hurt the woman’s feelings. “You never struck me as the type to listen to jealous gossip.”

“What rumors?” Jeanne asked, sitting up straight.

“You didn’t bring a date?” Molly asked before Ainsley could say anything else.