Smooth-Talking Cowboy Read online

  He lay back, closing his eyes. “You can’t make someone walk a path they don’t want to be on. You can’t even make them breathe if they don’t want to anymore. That is their choice. And it’s their life. You can’t make your whole existence a fucking monument to that. Otherwise, what’s the point in your good behavior? What’s the point in continuing to be alive if you’re not really living? You were going to marry some guy you weren’t even tempted to jump into bed with because... Why?”

  “Because I thought that it would make me safe,” she said. Her throat had gone unbearably tight, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Because deep down I’m afraid that if I put one step out of line I’ll end up like her. We’re twins. What separates the two of us from each other? Genetically, almost nothing. I know my parents were worried about that. It’s why they were so hard on me. I’m not sorry about it, either. It was that hardness that gave me the life I have, and it’s better than the life Vanessa has, let me tell you.”

  “You thought marriage would protect you?”

  “I don’t know if I’d put it that way. But I knew it would...make my life settled. For me. For my parents. Then I can have all those things, and in the right place. I can have sex, and I could have it with commitment. And if I got pregnant, then at least I would have a husband.”

  “That’s a lot of flawed reasoning there, darlin’,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “And when I say it out loud I can see that. But when I felt it inside of me, when it was just a whole lot of pressure crushing down on my brain, it seemed reasonable enough. Bennett was safe. That was the beginning and end of it. I never really thought of it in all those different terms until just now.”

  “And what about me?” He brushed her hair back away from her eyes. “What am I?”

  “I don’t know. The first thing I’ve ever let myself have that I just wanted. The first time I’ve ever indulged.”

  “I can do that. I can be that.”

  “Okay,” she said, her lips feeling numb.

  He was the first person she had ever said all of these things to. She had admitted it to herself at the same moment she had admitted it to him.

  And she had already committed one of those grave sins she had tried to keep herself from committing. Had already dropped her guard, released her hold on her control, let herself feel, instead of think.

  Luke was... He was safe. As rebellions went. She knew him. He would never hurt her, not on purpose. He certainly wasn’t going to marry her, and she didn’t want to marry him, either.

  They had chemistry. It might be fun to chase that for a while.

  To hold it. To have this small, reckless thing that she could claim as her own, and then set aside when they were finished.

  “Okay?”

  “I mean... Please,” she said. “Please be my reckless thing.”

  He smiled slowly, and for just one second it looked to her like the smile didn’t reach his eyes. But then it arrived, and she didn’t ponder that anymore.

  “With pleasure.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LUKE THOUGHT HE deserved a damned medal for the restraint he showed early the next morning, when he woke up with Olivia’s soft body curled around him, her breath fanning across his chest. The medal for not rolling her onto her back and having her again.

  Once. He had only taken her the one time.

  She had fallen asleep, and he had spent the rest of the night lying next to her, hard and aching and feeling extraordinarily benevolent.

  She had been a virgin, and he had to be sensitive about that.

  He didn’t know how to be sensitive. He didn’t know how to be protective. Apparently, when it came to Olivia it was just natural.

  It was early, and the sun hadn’t quite come up yet, but he had to get over to the ranch right about the time the first rays of morning light crested the top of the mountains. And he had a feeling Olivia would have to be getting to work, as well, though not anywhere near as early as him.

  He also had a feeling that Olivia wouldn’t want to go straight from his place over to the winery.

  He paused at the coffeepot in the kitchen, which ran on a predictable, extremely necessary timer that meant he didn’t have to spend more than a couple of minutes uncaffeinated when he rolled out of bed in the morning and poured himself a generous mug.

  Then he walked quietly back into the bedroom.

  He could see her feet. Sticking out the bottom of the comforter, her toes curled in. And he could see the top of her head, her dark brown hair resembling a bird’s nest, covering her face.

  He didn’t wake up with women. One had never spent the night at his house. And, since he by and large tended to hook up at the woman’s house, he had total control over whether or not he spent the night there. He did not.

  He preferred to get his and get gone.

  But after having Olivia, after he had discovered that he was the first man she had ever been with, after she had told him all about Vanessa and the weight that she carried on her petite little shoulders, there had been no turfing her out.

  Not that he wanted to. But in an ideal world, spending the night in bed with her would have meant trying to make a dent in the hunger that he felt for her.

  No such luck.

  That brought him back to pondering his own innate goodness, which he had never thought existed. At the moment he was considering launching a campaign for sainthood.

  “Olivia,” he said, pushing away from the door and walking into the bedroom.

  She let out a muffled sound and her feet disappeared beneath the covers as she curled into a ball.

  He walked over to her side of the bed—which was technically his side, but she had colonized it and he wasn’t about to argue with her—and set his mug down on his nightstand, crouching down low so that he was eye level with her. Or rather, tangled hair level, since he still couldn’t see her face. “Olivia, you need to wake up, kiddo.”

  She nuzzled her face into the pillow, and then one eye appeared, looking sleepy and cloudy. Then, that eye widened.

  She rolled over and sat up, holding on to the blankets. “What time is it?”

  “It’s five-thirty. It’s early. But, I didn’t know what your schedule was today, and I have to take off soon.”

  She blinked, looking around the room, a bit bewildered. “I... I slept here.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said.

  “In your bed.”

  “Yeah,” Luke said. “But only after we had sex.”

  Olivia made a sound that put him in mind of a distressed vole and covered her face with her hands. “Right.”

  “It’s a bit late for regrets, honey,” he said.

  She popped back up. “I don’t have regrets.” She sounded defiant. Mutinous.

  “Good,” he said. “Because it’s too late.”

  “I know that,” she snapped, climbing out of bed and taking the blanket with her, trailing it behind her as she marched over to where he had discarded her panties last night, and then into the living room, where the rest of her clothes still were.

  That, he supposed would impact his candidacy for sainthood. If he were truly a good man, he would have brought her clothing to her, left it folded neatly on the foot of the bed. And he certainly wouldn’t have stood behind her, living for that little glimpse of her ass that he caught when the fabric fell and exposed her.

  Too bad. He was fine with not being commemorated in stained glass as long as he had the chance to stare at Olivia Logan’s bare behind for a while.

  Sacrifices had to be made. And if his choices fell somewhere between good and Olivia’s naked body, he knew which one he was going to pick.

  She bent down, retrieving the clothing, and marched back into his bedroom. He followed.

  “A little privacy?” she asked.

  “I
t’s a bit late for that, too.”

  Her face turned a particularly attractive shade of scarlet. “That’s not fair.”

  “I didn’t say I was fair, honey. You know what’s not fair.” He sat down on his bed and reclined. Then, he grabbed hold of his coffee mug, keeping his eyes fixed on her. “You stayed at my place for free last night. Now you have to pay up.”

  “I think I did pay up already,” she said, muted.

  “No. That was mutual pleasure. Wasn’t any kind of transaction. This,” he said, “might be somewhat transactional. But, if you drop the blanket I will give you a cup of coffee.”

  “Then I’ll be back to owing you.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “I’m not sure I am.”

  He frowned. “You don’t want to be in my debt?”

  “Not especially.” But she slowly released her hold on the plaid comforter and let it fall to a downy heap on the floor. Then she slowly took her white lace panties and stepped into them gingerly, pulling them up her legs and covering up that delicious triangle between her thighs. His breath hissed out through his teeth and he took a sip of his coffee, the warm liquid settling with regret in his stomach. Regret, because what he really wanted to do was push her back down onto the bed and make better use of the morning.

  But he had a feeling she was not here for that, and also he really did have to get to work.

  He watched with avid interest as she put on the rest of her clothes—a little reverse striptease that was as hot as it was disappointing—and neither of them said anything.

  When she was dressed completely, he decided to initiate conversation.

  “So, I don’t know where this leaves things,” he said. “Bennett. The land. All of that.”

  “I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Well, I know some. I don’t want Bennett. I know that. I was...naive to think that I did. To think that what I felt for him was the right kind of thing to feel for a guy you were going to marry. As for the land... Offer for it. I’ll tell my dad that I think you would do good things with it.”

  “And probably shouldn’t mention that I took your virginity?”

  “Probably not.”

  She frowned. “It would probably be best if no one knew.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but we kind of already made a spectacle about town.”

  She looked regretful and filled with distress. “But that was when it was fake.”

  “You mess with the bull, sometimes you get the horns.”

  Olivia scrunched up her face. “Who’s the bull in this scenario?”

  “It’s more about what. We figured we could tempt this thing between us. We lost.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I didn’t realize there was a thing between us.”

  “Sorry,” he said, “I would have warned you if I would have known that you were a virgin who didn’t recognize that kind of thing.”

  She treated him to a very cranky expression and stomped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

  “Typically,” he said, following her and keeping the relentlessly perky tone in his voice, “people are in a better mood after sex.”

  “I don’t know what mood I’m in. I don’t know what I am at all.”

  “You don’t need to answer that question,” he said.

  “But I do,” she said plaintively. “I don’t know how to not have a plan. I don’t understand uncertainty.”

  He chuckled. “Welcome to life for the rest of us.”

  “It sucks,” she said.

  “Sure. No one said it didn’t.”

  “I have to go,” he said.

  “Of course you do,” she responded.

  “I’m not abandoning you,” he said, his tone careful. “If I had wanted to do that I would have left last night. I have to go to work.”

  “I know,” she said. “And even if you were abandoning me it would be fine. Because I’m busy, too. I have to go to work in a few hours.”

  “I figured you probably did. And that you would probably want to get ready at home. Unless you want to go in last night’s clothes.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not especially.”

  “I didn’t think so. Plus, I don’t have an extra eyelash curler or anything for you to use.”

  “I don’t use eyelash curlers. How do you even know what those are?”

  He simply looked at her, arching his brow until her cheeks turned pink. Then she sniffed. “I don’t need to hear about your past escapades.”

  “I have zero escapades that specifically involve an eyelash curler, I have just been in many a female bathroom. Never had an eyelash curler on my bathroom counter. So you know.”

  She frowned, then nodded slowly. “Okay. Good to know.”

  “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “Kind of.” She clasped her hands and looked up at him, her expression searching. “But maybe be specific.”

  “I’ve never had a woman spend the night here. And, I don’t do relationships.”

  “Well, the relationship thing I observed, having known you for about twenty years. But, I will take the assurance on the other thing. Since, you know... You’re a first for me. And I can’t pretend otherwise. It’s nice to be a little bit of something special to you.”

  Luke’s chest seized up tight. “You’re special to me, Olivia.” He took hold of her chin, which he was developing a real fondness for, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Just a brief one, because anything more and he was going to lose control, say to hell with their mutual schedules and drag her back into the bedroom.

  Her eyes fluttered open, then she looked at him sleepily. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t know quite what she was thanking him for. And he wasn’t going to ask. Instead, he just nodded and grabbed his hat off the hook by the door and made his way out to his truck.

  Olivia’s little car was parked in his driveway next to his old clunker, and there was something strange and intimate about that, seeing it there in the early morning hour. He chose not to examine that terribly closely.

  He jerked open the truck door and got in, keeping his eye on her little car and the light in the kitchen window as long as he could before he turned around and headed out of the driveway.

  He wondered how long she would stay. If she would drink his coffee. Use one of the mugs. If she would sit on the couch for a while, or if she would just leave right away, anxious to get back to her own space, rather than inhabiting his.

  It was a strange line of thinking, and one he couldn’t quite see the point of. And yet, even as he pulled into Get Out of Dodge, he was still imagining her in his house. Maybe even wrapped back up in the blanket.

  He parked out back by the heavy equipment barn and got out, the cold morning air a welcome slap in the face.

  He breathed in deep. The smell of dirt and animals as soothing as he imagined potpourri was for other people. This was the mark of a good life to him. Not dried rose petals and scented candles.

  The fresh air, infused with pine and wood. Horse sweat and manure.

  Worked for him.

  He made his way across the property and over to the main house. He stood in front of the place, staring up at the massive porch, the green sheet metal roof and the heavy, natural wood beams that extended down from the gutters to the ground.

  He had lived on this property, but never in this house.

  Part of the family, but not.

  Bennett had said it himself. Luke wasn’t one of them. And truthfully, it was time he had a talk with Wyatt about it.

  He walked up the steps and paused at the door, then decided that he would knock. He didn’t usually, but it seemed like today’s conversation called for it.

  When Wyatt jerked the door open, his expression was surprised. “Why the hell are you knoc
king?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Well, hell. That’s awfully formal.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “It kind of is.”

  He waited for Wyatt to invite him in. And it seemed to take Wyatt a moment to realize that’s what was happening. Finally, he stepped to the side, allowing Luke entry. “If we’re going to be formal, we might as well go into the living room,” he said.

  Luke followed Wyatt through the entryway and into the living room area. The ceiling was high, pointed into an A with windows that ran from floor to ceiling and a large fireplace that went down the middle of them. There was a loft floor that overlooked part of the room, with Pendleton blankets draped over the railing, a holdover from when Quinn had lived here.

  Luke had a feeling that Wyatt kept it the same because his father and his new wife, Freda, did come back from time to time, and Wyatt didn’t want it to look too much like he had overhauled the place the moment his father had left. He was doing it slowly. Incrementally. But the blankets were still in the same spot.

  “Have a seat,” Wyatt said, gesturing to one of the leather couches with the big brass nails on the armrests.

  “I’ll stand,” Luke said.

  “Okay,” Wyatt said, remaining standing himself, rocking back on his boot heels.

  Luke looked out past Wyatt, to the windows, to the sky that was turning a blush color, illuminating the evergreen trees that grew thick along the mountains.

  “I’m thinking of leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Wyatt asked. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “The ranch,” Luke clarified.

  “You’re leaving the ranch?” Wyatt looked incredulous. “Right now? Right when we’re undergoing all these changes? Luke, I didn’t plan on doing this without you. I need you for this. Get Out of Dodge needs you. You can’t just abandon the ranch.”