Cowboy Crush(20)

“Why you selling this place, anyway?” Wyatt asked, lugging the bucket of water over to his brother. The lanky kid had hair that flopped into his face. Cal handed him a bandanna, inclining his head toward the sweaty mess.

“Because I don’t live here.” Maggie slid a little closer to the cat, hoping it might accept her presence better if she didn’t look at it.

“But it would be a good place to live,” Wyatt said, securing the bandanna and starting the slow pour into the dusty cement Cal had poured into the hole. “I’d love it out here.”

“It’s nice,” Maggie agreed, taking a few more steps. The cat stayed put but looked wary. “But I’m not the kind of gal to live on a ranch.”

“Oh, a city girl, huh?” Wyatt said, watching his brother’s hand for the stop motion. “Hannah’s like that. I mean, she wants to go to college in Houston. Says she’s tired of staring at the same ol’ people. Me? I’m happy here. I mean, I’m going to college and all, but I like living in a small town. Coyote Creek’s kinda boring, but it’s nice. Right, Cal?”

Cal shrugged.

Wyatt looked up. “You’re going to move back here, aren’t you? I mean, when you quit riding and stuff.”

Cal looked up. “I don’t know. Never thought about it.”

Maggie could hear the aggravation in his voice. The man didn’t want to talk about his future. But the future weighed heavy on her mind. She needed to get a plan together for a consulting business, but first she’d have to sell the ranch. If she had to get a job in between she would.

Should she stay in Philly or move to where her mother and aunt lived? It sounded lonely. But she’d find somebody. At least a roommate or something. She didn’t have a lot of friends. So many of her college roommates had already married or advanced in their careers. They’d moved on. Her job at Edelman Enterprises had kept her in a pickle as far as making friends. She didn’t necessarily have seniority over everyone, but she’d had Bud’s ear and respect. She’d been like the teacher’s pet. Or Bud’s mole. No one trusted her enough to invite her for drinks or chat her up at the cooler.

“You should come back here. You’re not too old to start a new job or something,” Wyatt said, grabbing the shovel and patting down the slimy-looking mixture.

“Thanks, kid,” Cal said, catching Maggie’s eye.

Maggie smiled. “He’s right. You’re not that old.”

Cal sighed. “You two are bustin’ my balls over this.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Maggie said, stifling her smile. “I’m merely stressing that you’re not old. I almost bought you Geritol the other day, but then I thought, he’s not even forty years old yet.”

Cal gave her a flat look. “Thanks, Mags.”

Wyatt grinned. “You two are good together.”

And that statement made her feel like she’d tipped over the summit of a roller coaster and plunged down. Because they weren’t supposed to be a couple. Not really.

Cal glanced up, his gaze meeting hers. Something flashed between them. Maybe it was an acceptance. Or maybe it was a desire for things to be different. For them to be more than a right now. A start to something that would last longer than a month more. Maybe it was acknowledgment of what they shared in spite of their preset rules of engagement. Or maybe Maggie had started wanting him to feel the way she felt.

Thing was, she wasn’t sure exactly how she felt.

The future was a tricky thing and that old saying about the best laid plan of mice and men echoed in her mind.

“Help me unwrap the barrel and then I’ll show you how to tie the rope. There are a couple of ways to do it. Some cowboys prefer it tight. Others don’t like the idea of getting stuck and unable to dismount.”

“Think I’ll go with tight. I’ve been watching Chris Henry and he said it gives better results.”

“Every cowboy has to decide for himself, but what you will do is wear a helmet. Mom will have a shit fit if you don’t. And you don’t want to see that,” Cal said.

Maggie moved a little closer to the cat. It flinched and then leaped from the pile onto the barn floor, jetting out the open door quick as lightning. “Dang it.”

Cal laughed. “Did you say ‘dang it’?”

“Yes. I want to get that cat to trust me. She’s stubborn as you are.”

“Takes time,” Cal remarked, walking over to the tarp and unhooking the bungee cords covering it. “But I like the way you talk Texan.”

“When in Coyote Creek...” Maggie started for the open door, following the wary feline. “I’m going to leave you boys to talk rodeo. I have to clean up some paint rollers and then fix something to eat. Wyatt, did you have supper?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mom and I went by the Barbwire Grill before we went to the Co-op. I’m good.”

Yes, ma’am. So she was that old now. Or maybe ma’am was Wyatt’s natural response. She’d noted Texans, young or old, were abnormally respectful of women. She’d been yes, ma’am’d and no, ma’am’d to death. “Then I’ll say good night.”

“I’ll be in later,” Cal said, giving her a wink.

He said it so easily. Like it was a given they were together. That they had something more than mere hot sex.

Misleading.

Her heart tore a little at the thought of this fabricated life they’d built over the past several weeks. Which was not good.

She glanced back at Cal’s head bent next to his brother as they tamped and double-checked the position of the pole, and her insides went soft.

In spite of herself, she was falling for a cowboy.

And it would lead nowhere.





11


CAL LEANED BACK against the headboard. “Baby, you were made for wearing cowboy boots.”

Maggie’s smile had the devil in it. She walked back and forth, strutting in her new boots, wearing nothing but a lacy bra and thong panties. Every fantasy a man could ever have sashayed in front of him.

She grabbed his cowboy hat off the bedpost and jabbed it on her head. “There. Now I’m a real cowgirl.”

“Damn, girl. Come over here and let me see what kinda cowgirl you are.” Cal leaned up and reached for her, but she scooted away.

“Oh, no, bull rider. I’m here for the lessons.”

He gave her a slow smile. “Oh, are you? Well, thing is, I expect payment up front.”

She turned and stuck her hands on her hip bones. “That doesn’t seem fair. I’ve always demanded service rendered before I open my checkbook.”

“Is that right?” he asked, reaching for his belt buckle.

Wyatt had left an hour ago, and Cal had come inside to find Maggie eating popcorn and drinking wine. A weird combination, but he’d joined her. One bottle led to tequila after she said she’d never done tequila shots. Like he could let her leave Texas without shooting authentic Mexican tequila. They’d both gotten a little sloppy and then turned on when he brought up giving her private lessons on riding a bull.

“Mmm-hmm. I must stand firm on these negotiations,” she said, sliding her gaze down to the zipper he was in the process of lowering.

“Speaking of firm,” he said, shucking his worn Levi’s and tossing them toward the old rocker in the corner. He was left clad in his tented boxers and a pair of black socks. He looked like a turned-on nerd. But whatever. He couldn’t think about what he was or wasn’t wearing when Maggie pranced around, bouncing in all the right places.

“Now that’s a look,” she said, eyeing the erection standing tall beneath the material.

“No, that’s good preparation. The first thing you want to do is rosin up your hands. Here, use this.” He tossed her the lube she’d left sitting on the nightstand. Not that she’d needed it yet. He made damn sure she didn’t need any lubricant in bed.

“This isn’t rosin.”

“Well, darling, you aren’t going to be holding on to a scratchy rope now, are you?”

Maggie smiled and flipped the cap open. “But my bull doesn’t look ready to ride.”

Cal glanced down at his cock saluting her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Take those boxers off. The socks, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Those words again. You Texans love to call everyone ma’am.”

Cal grinned and slid his boxers off. Socks joined them on the floor. Then he stacked some pillows behind his head and lay back. “Minding one’s manners around here is a necessity. Not doing so can land a kid an ass whuppin’, so we learn early.”

Maggie squirted some lube in her hand and strolled over. “Mmm-hmm. We’ll talk about manners later. Right now your role is to teach me how to hang on to a big, throbbing...uh, bull.”

He would have laughed, but she chose that moment to wrap her slick fingers around his...bull. “Sweet mother of—”

“Am I doing it right?” she asked, looking innocent and wicked at the same time. She started moving her hand up and down. “I guess I should find a good spot to hang on. Here? Or right here?”

He gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t come right there in her hand. The slick lube combined with the friction felt ten times more pleasurable than a normal hand job. “You’re doing fine,” he managed.