Mystic Cowboy(69)

She slammed her hips down onto his and, in a white-hot moment, he emptied everything he ever had into her. Her head whipped back as she ground down even harder, and then she collapsed against his heaving chest. He’d won, but she hadn’t lost. Everyone was the big winner here.

“Better?” she murmured into his neck as she kissed his still-hot skin.

“Mad-e-line.” It was all he had left, and even that wasn’t much.

“I love you too.”

Good. She knew. That was all that mattered.



Sunday was nearly perfect, Madeline decided. Rebel made something that looked like biscuits but tasted a whole lot better in a big, cast-iron pot over the fire. Even the coffee seemed to be a little more special. After that, they went on a long ride, winding through parts of the High Plains that seemed still untouched by human hands. Rebel showed her where he camped in the spring and fall and then took her down a deep valley to see a herd of pronghorn grazing in the tall grass. After they got back, they went for a dip in the river and then made love under the shade of trees. Sated, they dozed through the hot part of the afternoon.

Hell, if she’d known how much fun camping was, she’d have done it years ago.

Her wheels began to turn. The cabin would be cramped for a while, sure, but maybe between the two of them, they could find enough money for a new place. And on the weekends, they could head out to the open range and rough it. It could work. They could be together. It was insane, she knew. She’d only been here for two months. But after staring down the throat of a life of Darrin-based boredom, she wanted to hold on to all the honest-to-goodness excitement that was being with Rebel. She didn’t want to let go, either.

Still, by the time they mounted up to head back to the cabin, she could tell something had changed about him. He was quiet again, and he kept looking at her not like she was going home for the night, but like she was leaving. Like she was leaving him. Like he’d looked at her that first morning.

He was making her nervous. But she refused to give into some sort of hysterical, feminine panic. Last time, it hadn’t even been about her. It had been about Albert. And he’d already come back for her, right? Right. Focus on the positive. “I had a good time camping,” she started, breaking the silence as they walked the horses back to her house.

“Yeah?” Did he sound a little hopeful?

“Yeah. I think that would be fun on the weekends—at least when the weather’s nice.”

“Yeah.” The hope was gone, and he sounded dangerously close to something like depressed.

Did he not want her to go camping with him? Lord, this man drove her crazy. But she resolved not to get ahead of herself and ruin the day. “How about you? Do you like the cabin?”

His answer was a long time coming. “It’s pretty nice. I could maybe stay with you a night or two a week.”

A night? Or two? She swallowed. That sounded ominous. “Oh. I thought...” She caught herself before she got her foot too far into her mouth. She thought he couldn’t let her go. She thought she took care of him, and she knew exactly how well he took care of her. She sort of thought he might be able to love her, crazy white woman and all.

Perhaps she’d thought wrong.

They rode the rest of the way back to the cabin in a tense silence as she tried to figure out what was going on exactly. This wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of thing. He’d gone way out of his way to make her a part of his family and to explain his customs—especially the ones that made the least amount of sense. He’d made her moccasins—moccasins she was wearing right now. He’d made breakfast, for God’s sake.

So what the hell was it?

She half expected him to just tip his hat and ride off into the late afternoon sun, but he dismounted with her and then took her hand as they walked up onto her porch. She let him, because holding hands was holding onto something. For all she knew, it might be the only thing, but it was something.

He stopped in front of her door, like this was the end of the first date and he was nervous about the kiss. “My Madeline.” His voice said it all. He wasn’t coming in. He was leaving.

“Stay,” she said, surprising even herself. So much for that foot in the mouth. Well, hell. Since she’d already shoved it in there, she might as well keep on going. “Why won’t you stay here with me?”

He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers. “A piece of me will always be here with you.”

“I don’t want a piece of you, Rebel. I want all of you. Even the parts that make me crazy.”

“I...” He tightened his arms around her, like she’d said what he wanted to hear and didn’t want to hear at the same time. “I can only give you the one piece.” He found her hand and pressed it to his chest. She could feel his heart strumming along beneath the skin. “I don’t have anything else left to give.”