Come Closer, Cowboy. Debbi Rawlins

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Come Closer, Cowboy - Debbi  Rawlins


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felt so good against him, warm and soft and real. He’d imagined this every night he’d been stuck in Argentina. Every night except one. After the sixth day of unreturned calls, he’d gotten stinking drunk and blotted out the world. And paid for it the next day.

      Mallory stirred in his arms and parted her lips. Their tongues touched. A soft helpless moan came from the back of her throat, lighting a fire in his belly that tested his self-control.

      Mallory moved against him. All her sweet womanly curves hit him in all the right places. If he got any harder he was going to explode.

      A firm shove to the chest sent him back a step. He lowered his arms to his side and met her dark green eyes.

      “What’s wrong with you?” She glared back. “We just agreed to be friends, no sex.”

      “Kissing isn’t sex.”

      She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling. Gunner tried not to stare. Or think about the velvety texture of her skin. Or how sweet she’d tasted.

      God, he wanted her.

      “Mallory...”

      “Don’t say another word.” She patted her pockets, glanced around until she found her keys behind the bar. “You need to leave. I have things to do.”

      “I can help you move.”

      “No.” She rushed past him and unlocked the door. “Thank you.”

      Trust him to ruin things. He grabbed his Stetson off the bar and set it on his head. “Have I totally screwed up?”

      With a warning glare, she held the door open. “No. But you probably should leave before you do.”

      “Copy that,” he said, and walked out without looking back.

      * * *

      GUNNER HAD ARRIVED late yesterday afternoon and hadn’t seen much of Ben’s ranch yet. But it was clear a lot of hard work had gone into the Silver Spur even before Gunner had gotten the lowdown from the kid hired to help feed and water the animals and do odd jobs.

      While Ben wrapped up a business call, Gunner waited outside the small barn office and talked to the boy. Billy, with his friendly face and jug ears, looked to be about seventeen and took pride in his work. Bales of hay were stacked in two corners, an entire wall of orderly tack looked well-maintained and he’d been cleaning saddles while he described the poor condition of the ranch before Ben had bought it.

      “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Ben closed the office door behind him.

      Gunner saw the frustration in his face. “If this is a bad time I can get lost for a while.”

      “No. Now’s good.” Ben plowed a hand through his long dark hair and tugged on his hat. “Man, I hate turning down business.”

      “Better than burning yourself out or doing a half-assed job. You don’t need that kind of rep in Hollywood.”

      “True.” Ben glanced at the boy. “I might be out of service for a while. We’re heading to the north pasture.”

      Billy jumped to his feet and almost tripped over his stool. “You want me to saddle the horses?”

      Ben hesitated. “Sure. But take your time. I’m showing Gunner around here first.”

      Gunner followed Ben’s lead and moved to the barn’s entrance. Staying out of the blazing sun, they watched the long, lanky kid head for the stables.

      “He seems like a good worker.”

      “Yep.” Ben nodded. “But a little accident-prone. I know it kills him that I don’t let him work with the horses.”

      “Maybe he’ll grow out of it.” Gunner shrugged. “I was on the clumsy side in my teens.”

      Ben eyed him. “You serious?”

      “And hungry enough to get over it.”

      With a faint smile, Ben nodded. He’d also lived on the streets as a kid and understood what it took to get enough food in your belly. In order to survive, Gunner had learned how to steal and not get caught. Making restitution later had helped, but he hated remembering those bleak days.

      Ben turned and glanced around the inside of the barn. “The loft has been reinforced. And I had the worse half of the roof repaired but the whole thing needs new shingles. That’s coming from the walls,” he said, gesturing to the cracks of sunlight that streaked the shadows. “I’m still working on that, but so far it’s stayed fairly dry in here.”

      “I’m pretty good with a hammer,” Gunner said. “I can work on it tomorrow.”

      “I thought you’d be helping Mallory move into her new place.”

      “Who told you that?”

      “Grace.” Ben laughed. “Who else?”

      “Well, then she knows more than I do.”

      “Grace saw her parking the U-Haul in front of the house she rented. It’s just off Main.” Ben frowned. “Grace offered our help, but Mallory said she had it covered. I figured that was you.”

      “I saw her at the bar earlier,” Gunner said evenly, hoping Ben wouldn’t ask any questions. “She had something going on so we’re supposed to talk later.”

      “I meant to ask, how long are you staying?”

      “A week. Ten days maybe.” It had a lot to do with Mallory. “Unless you kick me out sooner.”

      “Not if you’re fixing my barn, I won’t.”

      Gunner smiled and moved toward the entrance. “The stable looks new.”

      “It is. That’s where I’ve sunk the most money so far,” Ben said as they walked out under the hot July sun. “The place was a steal but I knew it would take a lot of work. It came with some equipment, though again, none of it in great shape, but good enough to float me for a couple of years.”

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