Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? (8 page)

“I’m no good at flirting.” Whoa, where had that come from? He cleared his throat. “The banter over the drinks before. I don’t know what to do.”

Cecelia closed the book with a thud and placed it on the table beside her. He caught the title—
Sociology and Civics
. What an odd book to take on a cruise. She leaned across the arm of her chair, bringing her lips just out of reach of his. “You know what I want you to do?”

Everything in his body swelled, including his throat. It made responding difficult. “What?”

“I want you to lose this stoic exterior and become the person you really are. The one that makes me laugh at our parents’ boring, polite holiday parties and used to go with me to see bawdy movies until you decided it would be bad for your career if someone saw you there. The person you show only to me because you know I won’t judge you. I want you to be YOU, Edward. Not what everyone else wants you to be.”

She was right. But he hadn’t been himself in a long time.

She leaned in closer. “What do you want to do?” Her gaze darted down and her tongue flicked out to moisten the corner of her mouth. “Do you want to kiss me?”

The coconut smell of her sunscreen filled his senses. She kissed his cheek, a soft feathery caress. “Do you want to take me back to your room?” She breathed in his ear, creating a roar that drowned out everything else on the deck. “Do you want—”

He grabbed her shoulders and held her away from him. Her clear green eyes bored into his, a small half-smile playing on her lips. Her lips formed one word, though she didn’t speak it.
Me
. He gave up.

The first touch of her mouth, warm, pliant against his, sent all thoughts of proper behavior and his life plan overboard. Her bikini-clad body joined his on the lounge chair and blocked everything from his senses.

He was completely losing his mind. And it felt good.

“Should we go back to the cabin?” she whispered. “And it won’t be to play Scrabble.”

Another roar. To have her with him, have his fantasies come true. If he had to be honest with himself, the reality was intimidating. What if he didn’t measure up to what she expected? She’d hop off the boat in the Bahamas and fly back to South Carolina. Better take it slow.

“I’m not ready,” he said.

A giggle escaped her lips and he stiffened. She laughed at him? Wounded, he extracted himself from underneath her while she buried her mouth in his chest.

“Don’t go,” she said, clinging to his arm. “I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just been so long since any guy wanted to take his time with me. This one gesture, and you make me feel amazing and desired.” She kissed him again, slow and lingering, making him doubt his resolve to move slowly. When she slid the lean length of her body off his, the lack of warmth left him bereft. She sat on her chair again and picked up her book while he wondered what in holy hell had possessed him to deny her.

R
iley poured some water from the blue pitcher in preparation for more of Molly’s version of speed dating, ranch-style. Beefy odors wafted up from the platters of food for dinner, but he ignored them and stared at the door of the study. Maybe if he willed it, it would stay closed and not let in any more women.

Three had come in to the small room already, one at a time. Tall, short, blonde, dark, some who could ride, some who could cook. He felt like he was interviewing possible employees. Wanted: one potential wife, needs to be comfortable on a ranch and in a saddle or be willing to learn. Cooking nice but not necessary. Must be able to lift grain or hay. References required. A sip of the cool liquid trailed down his throat and he crunched an ice cube, trying to ignore the futility and waste of his time. This whole marital rodeo was stupid. Love couldn’t be forced. That lesson he had learned when his mother left, when Molly tried desperately to hold on to her marriage. When his girlfriends tried to mold him into their idea of Mr. Right. Every relationship failed.

Especially ones that started out by ignoring the safety of his favorite mare. How could they think crowding around a sterile environment, moving the hay bales and sitting on horse stall walls, was a good idea? And they kept calling his name, diverting his attention from Scarlet and her foal, asking him questions that could have easily been answered afterward. Even when he was elbow-deep in birthing fluids. That kind of egocentric me-first attitude he did not need in a relationship.

Cookie had maintained crowd control, and the women shrank back and stopped talking under his steely glare. He had put Jewel in charge of clean water, since she did have some medical training, even if it was for humans. And Scarlet seemed calmer when she saw Meagan, so he let her sit closer than the others. But Meagan had stayed silent, her feet tucked neatly under her skirt, while she watched the horse and not the man.

He checked the list of names Molly had written. It wasn’t necessary, but his sister lived to make lists and he didn’t want to deprive her. A thrill rippled across his belly when he saw Ainsley was coming in next. Ainsley who had very obviously not been in the stables. Not that he had checked.

He had managed to be polite to the women who had already come in for the speed dating, even if he stayed stiff instead of relaxing, and he sat in the cushioned brown chair instead of sharing the sofa. Mary Ellen had seemed wary of him, but soon they were chatting about motorcycles. Then she got offended when he asked her if she could cook. Meagan spent the entire time talking about his ranch foreman and the birth of the foal, her bright blue eyes expressing joy in each conversation, and trying to make him see the plus side to being a vegetarian. Robin spent the entire time talking and tugging on her hair, twisthing the short strands around a finger and then releasing them.

Why hadn’t Ainsley been in the stables? It was either because she understood she would’ve been underfoot or she had already had her fill of pissed-off cowboy. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. His father would've been disappointed in the way Riley had treated her, first in the greenhouse, then again at breakfast. As usual, the anger over his father’s death battled with his own helplessness to stop it. And that made him think of Seth, whom he hadn’t seen all evening. He took a gulp of water and thrust the glass down on the table, cutting off his mind and the remaining sadness. Dealing with his brother would be easier if he could control his own emotions.

The doorknob clicked and he schooled his features into neutral. Ainsley entered the small room and stood by the open door.

There it was. That rush of heat from earlier when she stood so close to him at the buffet. Her vanilla scent, her humor-filled eyes at the greenhouse. Before they’d held a challenge, ready for him. Now they seemed wary, somehow. More reserved.

“Good evening,” he said, breaking the uncomfortable stillness.

She nodded in response and Riley gestured to the brown sofa, wondering if this was what people meant by an awkward silence. She shuffled across the carpet on pink high heels, showing off shapely curves and bared shoulders in a black dress. In this environment, he could take the time to look at her as a woman instead of as an annoyance. Her green eyes set off her thick, wavy hair and she had the appearance of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. Her nose was a shade longer than what he’d consider conventionally beautiful, but her mouth was enticing. Right now the full lips compressed in a straight line. She sat with her hands primly tucked into her lap, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Where was her spark? The flash when he had angered her? This meek, demure woman was in no way related to the spitfire with battle written all over her when they had locked horns last night. He took a swallow of water to wet his dry mouth, then stood with his feet set far apart, hand on his waist. Of course she’d show him a different side of her since the first one had failed to elicit the expected response. Women have the amazing ability to change personalities like he changed bedding in the horse stalls. How much could he push before she revealed her true self?

“Being my wife means preparing meals for me and my family every day. You’ll be expected to do my laundry and clean up after me. And I’m a very messy man.” He loomed above her, his mouth set in a scowl.

Ainsley’s lips cracked the barest of smiles when she finally gave him her attention. “Then I hope you’re a fan of take-out and dull whites. Can I still lasso you for my husband if I have no domestic skills to recommend me?”

There. That battle face. The prickle of satisfaction, like he had coaxed a frightened animal to safety, swept through his body.

“Oh, sit down, Cowboy. You don’t have to try to frighten me.” She waved to the chair.

He stood for a moment longer before settling in. He hoped this was the real her. It was better than the timid mouse that had walked into the room. “I wasn’t trying to frighten you.”

Again, that hint of a smile that sent his pulse on a gallop. “What would you call it, then?”

“Okay, maybe I was. But only a little.”

She laughed then, her grin making its way to her eyes and transforming the seriousness of her features. “I’ll make this easy on you. Meagan told me you need to know if I can cook and ride, and the answers are no and yes. I grew up around horses. My favorite Chinese restaurant is on speed dial and I have the number for the pizza place memorized. If there’s no delivery here, I’m in a lot of trouble.”

Her open, honest response caught his attention more than any attempt to impress him ever would. Riley relaxed for possibly the first time that night.

“I didn’t know about your father,” she blurted, inspecting her lap.

The relaxation turned into an icy shock that took over his body, his fingers curling into the arms of the chair. “What?” He’d been expecting manipulation, but her playfulness got him to lower his guard. Now she pulled the emotional card. Oh, she was good.

“Molly told some of us what happened. I’m—I’m sorry. I can’t image the pain you and your family must’ve gone through. Are going through. I didn’t want to sit here and pretend all light and happiness when you must still be so devastated.” Her perfect lean toward him and gentle touch on his arm displayed her amazing acting skills. He didn’t need her false compassion.

Maybe now he was supposed to get all sniffly at her pretend understanding and share his feelings. He kept his voice low. “And are you here to comfort me?”

“I don’t know what I can offer, but whatever I can do.”

His disgust grew so overpowering he ripped his arm from her grasp and stormed away from the chair before he turned and glowered at her. “Go home, Ainsley Fairfax. Go play your little games with someone else.” His cold tone left no room for explanations or arguments.

Her eyebrows drew down and she gave a small shake of her head. “Me? What are you talking about? I’m not playing games.”

“I know your type. Little Miss Sweetness until you get what you want, and then you do a personality shift so not even your mother would recognize you. Get out of here.”

“Oh, man, are you one heck of a psycho.” She jumped to her feet, her barely-there accent getting more prominent in her anger. “Tell me something, Cowboy. Are you such a misogynist that your idea of fun is having women travel across the country to make fools of themselves for you? Does that get your rocks off? You don’t want to be with any of us or get married anyway. You’re absolutely unreal.”

An ache started at his temples and a small nagging part of him insisted that maybe she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was only trying to show compassion, and he took it as manipulation. It may have been a little too much. Plus she had nailed him on the getting married part. “Wait.”

She stopped at the door with her hand on the knob. A sigh escaped her lips and she rested her forehead on the jamb, keeping her face away from him.

 “There’s a possibility—a small one—that I may have overreacted.”

She gave a breathy snort and tilted around to look at him without breaking contact with the door. “Yeah?”

He strode to her and touched her arm, her knotted muscles a clear indication of the tension surrounding her. “Yeah.”

A moment later she relaxed and slid around so her back was against the door, her guileless expression an easy read. “I wasn’t trying to play you.”

“I know.” He ran his hand through his hair. Trust had been an issue since his mother left. But he also had to learn not every woman he met was going to try to control him.

“I’m not even supposed to be here.” Her eyes drifted to the floor.

That caught his attention. “What do you mean?”

She lifted one smooth shoulder. “It’s no big deal. Only that my sister was going to come instead of me.”

Jeanne opened the door before Ainsley could explain further. “Time’s up!”

She darted a glance at the teen and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it before saying anything else and followed Jeanne out of the room. Before she stepped into the hall, though, she stopped with an arm on the door frame and paused for a brief moment before she waved good-bye.

Well, that was unexpected. He took a drink of water, this time not noticing its icy slide down his throat. Where was she supposed to be, if not here? Molly opened the door and ushered in the next woman.

“Riley, this is Daisy,” she said, then left them alone.

“Won’t you… uh…” His mind blanked as Daisy sashayed past him, her dark plaid skirt barely covering her well-shaped rear end. She trailed her fingers across his chest, displaying her plunging neckline as she passed him. Her cloying perfume assaulted his nostrils and he had to turn his head to get a good breath. When she sat, he had a suspicion he would become intimately acquainted with the color of her underwear. If she was wearing any.

Riley started back toward his chair but Daisy stopped him. “All the way over there, Tiger? Scared of little ol’ me?” Her assessing slant devoured him and she patted the cushion next to her. He paused, torn, afraid of what she’d do if he chose the chair. Maybe curl up in his lap. He sat on the couch as close to the arm as possible.

“How are you enjoying Wyoming so far?” he asked. Conversation was good. Then he could ignore her exposed cleavage that seemed to sparkle unnaturally. His eyes kept darting down, try as he might to keep them on her face. A well-pleased and seductive curve of her mouth told him he wasn’t fooling her at all.

Daisy curled her legs so she was on her knees and leaned toward him. “It’s getting better all the time.” Riley swore she purred, and she crawled across the small space between them. Surely she wouldn’t…

Her lips barely grazed his and he bolted to his feet. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, heading for the refreshments. The cozy room was too small to put much more space between them.

“You’re being the perfect gentleman. Stop it.” Daisy stalked him and raked her red nails from his shoulders down his chest, ending the seductive slide by hooking her fingers in his belt. He gripped the table to keep himself steady, nearly pulling off the decorative white cloth Molly had used to dress it up. He couldn’t move away without bodily touching her, so instead he tried to get her claws away from him. His thoughts left his mind altogether when Daisy started swaying her hips against his, dancing to her own music. She turned and took a few steps before showing him the practiced moves of an exotic dancer. He had answers to his questions. Yes, and pink with white daisies.

Riley slid to the side, hoping to put some furniture between them, but Daisy followed him. She ended her dance by jumping into his arms. His arms shot out to catch her before he realized he should have let her fall on her rump. Once secure in his hold, she wrapped her hands around his neck and tried to pull him down. Immediately he dropped one of his arms and guided her with the other to the floor so she didn’t fall, but pressed his head against the wall to avoid her searching, eager mouth.

Thankfully Jeanne approached the room like a herd of wild horses. Daisy curled her fingers into his shirt and tipped her chin up, her lips grazing his neck like a pesky moth. “Later, Tiger.”

She stepped away seconds before his sister entered. “Time’s up,” Jeanne said.

Daisy curled her fingers like a paw to wave and sashayed out the door. His sister’s stifled giggles filled the small room and she poked his neck with her finger and showed him smeared lipstick. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away while glaring at his little sister.

“Molly thought you could use a break,” Jeanne said. “And she wanted me to tell you to eat something.”

Riley had to remind himself his oldest sister had been mothering Seth and Jeanne for a long time. It was only natural to include Riley in the mix, too. He stuffed a meatball in his mouth and Molly walked into the small room.

“How’s it going so far?” she asked.

Patience
. He fortified himself with a deep breath.
They’re only doing this because they love me and want me happy.
“Pretty well. Though I think I upset Mary Ellen.”