Page 16 of The Cowboy's Downfall
Good to know. Because that was not how it had looked. “Out of morbid curiosity, what did she do?”
“Why don’t we focus on what’s important?” he said. He changed the subject too quickly, meaning whatever it was, it had to be good. Taryn knew how to hit weak spots. “A group of moron boys, out to impress her, and her egging them on… Factor in a thousand or so pounds of lean and mean grade-A beef. Think about it. She’s going to cause me nothing but trouble. Can’t you withdraw your consent?”
“If I did that, then I’d be the one with the problem,” she pointed out. “Come on. Tell me. What did she do? Should I be worried?”
“Not as worried as me.” Embarrassment clung to him like the grease stains on his hands. “She thanked me for being s-sweet. Then she said I could g-g-give her…” He cleared his throat and shifted his feet. “Private lessons.”
That was what had him so spooked? A shaft of pity pierced through her amusement. His discomfort really was sweet. He’d never survive a few months of Taryn if that was all it took for her to unnerve him. If she’d sensed weakness in him, he was already done for.
Shauna couldn’t resist teasing him either. “That’s it?”
His eyes locked on hers. Then, they narrowed. “She did this, too.” He reached out and ran his fingertips over the back of her hand.
Every pulse point in her body responded in a manner she hadn’t expected. Fire shot from the tops of her thighs and tracked up her spine to ignite the base of her skull. Her knees lost their purpose in life. Yes, she could see how that might prove unsettling. Especially if he’d reacted to Taryn the way she was reacting to him.
Her brain gnawed on that. He’d caught her by surprise. Why not see how he responded to one? “Yes, but did she also do this?”
She made a move she didn’t put a whole lot of thought into, but rather ran with her instincts, and put her hands on his hips, above his belt, then pressed her body to his for full frontal contact. They were close to the same height. She tipped her chin so she could see his face, then wondered how she could extract herself with her dignity intact, because things were now happening below both of their beltlines that she hadn’t predicted. The half-lowered lids of his eyes didn’t indicate indifference on his part either.
They gazed at each other. He had to feel her heart pounding, because there was a good chance it was going to beat its way out of her chest.
Then his hands were on her, and so was his mouth. He smelled of grease, which wasn’t unpleasant, and he tasted of caramel, a flavor she loved. The tip of his tongue tested the line of her lips, which parted, all on their own, because her brain had given her up as hopeless and left. She gasped a little, taking hold of his belt in both hands and hanging on for dear life while one of his palms eased under her blouse and made its way to her breast. The cup of her demi-bra—not its most useful feature—slid aside, leaving her nipple exposed to his thumb’s administrations. Traitorous flesh vibrated with joy.
She’d never been shy, and since her body was already along for the ride, she might as well enjoy it. She pried her fingers off the worn leather belt and tugged the hem of his T-shirt free of his jeans. The hard abs she found underneath were well worth the journey. His mouth, however, was creating a further diversion, as well as the knee that parted her thighs. When this cowboy kissed, he went all in.
She almost missed the sound of footsteps on gravel, but her brain hadn’t left the building entirely, because it began boxing her ears, trying to get her attention. Nix, too, must have heard something, because they had six feet of air between them in less than a second, and without any help on her part, because her voluntary muscle control was on a picket line somewhere.
The footsteps approached the open shed doorway. An inky silhouette manifested against a backdrop of dwindling twilight and peered into the shed.
“Hey, Nix,” the shadow said. “Your wife’s on the phone.”
*
Nix
Nix might beinclined to wonder if Handy was deliberately trying to sabotage him, except he already knew the guy didn’t have to work very hard at being destructive—it came naturally to him.
“Ex-wife,” he said, although the distinction appeared not to matter.
Why should it when he couldn’t figure it out for himself? Peggy insisted on treating him as if they were still married, and he had years of bad habits yet to break, because he honest to God felt as if he’d just been caught cheating on her. Having Shauna look at him with that same suspicion in mind ranked up there with her thinking he’d be interested in a seventeen-year-old girl.
Why he cared about her opinion—why he liked her enough to forget she was out of his league—were questions best saved for the therapy he so obviously needed. She’d been joking around, just yanking his chain, and he’d dived in with less self-restraint than that teenaged, hormone-addled, idiot Remi possessed.
Handy shrugged. “Wife, ex, whatever. She said it’s urgent and for me to get you on the line asap.”
Everything was urgent with Peggy. And while Nix knew—heknew—that he was under no obligation to run when she called, he’d been programmed to respond.
“Taryn seems to have her mind made up about bull riding,” Shauna said to Nix. Frost coated her tone. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to find some way to deal with her on your own.”
Great. Perfect. Now that he’d proved exactly how much he preferred women, right down to cheating on his wife—ex-wife—Too Good planned to dump Trouble on him without giving him a chance to explain. To top it off, he had a woody the size of a fencepost and no hope for relief.
Not that he would have gotten any relief on that last part from Too Good. Not in a machine shed. She was better than that. Unlike himself, because in his head he’d already had her undressed and braced against the tractor tire sidewall before Handy walked in.
“She said she’s calling long distance,” Handy added helpfully, not being helpful at all.
Nix had to take the phone call. They’d been married ten years. There’d been good times along with the bad, and his conscience gave him no choice.
After he spoke to her though, it might be time for him to return to discovering America and living out of his backpack and duffel and showering at truck stops. This job at the Endeavour Ranch was never meant to be permanent. Trouble and Too Good—Peggy, too—simply sped up his plans.
