The Cowboy Claims His Lady. Meagan McKinney
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how can that be?” she murmured stumped. “Does everybody here have cell phones I can’t see?”
“Don’t need ’em. We’ve got Hazel McCallum—and everyone reports to Hazel the goings on ’round here. That’s twice true if it concerns one of her own.”
He smiled that carnivore’s smile and said, “So are you ready?”
She looked at him in the dark. Suddenly she wanted to get out and run.
“I guess,” she whispered, all the while wondering what madness had gotten hold of her.
“I’m only doing this because Hazel trusts you. Otherwise, let me tell you, I never go off with strangers.” Lyndie rambled on while the pickup negotiated the unpaved mountain road.
“I’m no stranger,” Bruce said. “Ask Hazel.”
“She says you used to be a tomcat. And even this city girl can figure out what that means.”
“Haven’t been tomcatting in a while,” he almost whispered.
“She told me that, too.”
A silence permeated the truck’s cab. It was so deep and oppressive, Lyndie was glad when the silhouette of the mill appeared over the hill.
“Here we are.”
He pulled next to the fieldstone building. A small river emptied alongside the building and drove the wheel. Beneath it all was a large inviting pool of river water that shimmered in the opalescent moonlight.
She opened her door and got out.
The creaking wheel and the splash of water suddenly set her nerves on edge. As did the tall dark man next to her.
“So, what do you do here?” she asked in a tough voice.
“Swim. I’ll show you.”
He tugged his shirt out of his jeans and peeled it over his head.
In the moonlight, she could see the ripple of muscle on his chest. There was also a light sprinkling of dark hair that narrowed where his abdominal muscles tightened into a grid. It formed a trail that disappeared into the waist of his jeans.
When he reached for the button on his jeans, she held up her hand.
“If I’m giving a lingerie show, then, so are you. Keep ’em on,” she instructed, gesturing to his white boxers that showed through his fly.
“You sure you’ve never done this before?” He grinned.
She nodded. “I’m sure.”
Tossing off his hat and scuffing out of his boots, he finally stood in his boxers, arms crossed as if impatiently waiting for her to follow suit.
A lump of anxiety caught in her throat, but the whiskey told her she wasn’t out of her mind—that it was perfectly acceptable to go swimming with a man she’d only met that afternoon.
“Hell, it’s the country, isn’t it? What’s wrong with getting back to nature when I’m on vacation?” she muttered, pulling off her hat.
“That’s the spirit,” he coaxed.
“But I’m keeping my T-shirt on,” she told him.
He seemed only too compliant. “Sure. Go right ahead.”
She looked down at herself.
The sheer white T-shirt would be worse—or better, depending on the perspective—than being naked. Still, her sense of modesty wouldn’t allow her to fling it off.
“You know, I think you’re setting me up,” she added warily.
“For what?” he whispered in her ear before he took her hand and pulled her on top of him into the swimming hole.
“You j-j-jerk!” she stammered, gasping at the frigid chill of Rocky Mountain melt water.
“Best to keep moving” was all he offered.
Enraged, she tried to dunk his head.
Laughing, he even let her a few times, as if it would be good for her to get her anger out.
“Bet you can’t do this.” He swam over to the wheel and held on to it for a few feet. Then he dove into the pool as if from a diving board.
“Oh, yeah?” she taunted, answering the challenge. She was shivering and acting like a child, but she had to admit, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so free.
She held on to the churning wheel. After a couple of seconds, she pushed herself off and plunged into the dark, frigid pool.
When she came up for air, she screeched with laughter. “My God, it’s c-c-cold!”
He went to her. Unbidden, his arms encircled her waist. His torso was like a branding iron against her, but she couldn’t deny herself the welcome warmth.
“Is this how you’ve gotten all your girls? Through hypothermia?” she jabbed.
“Nope,” he answered, looking down at her while they treaded water. “Whiskey always worked just fine. But I figured you’d be a tough pony to tame.”
“Ha!” She pushed his head into the water and swam away.
To prove her point, she held on to the wheel, this time longer, then cannonballed him.
“You know,” she said blithely, swimming on her back, “this is fun. I’m actually getting used to the temperature of the water.”
“Unfortunately, once you get out, you freeze all over again.” His gaze followed her.
“Can’t wait.” She splashed him, he nearly splashed back.
She laughed and was almost grateful when he took her waist again and warmed her.
“I have a confession,” she sputtered, wiping the water from her eyes. “You wouldn’t know it from what I do for a living, but I was a tomboy as a child. I always wanted an older brother, too. To do stuff like this. Now I kinda feel like I have one.”
He pressed her closer. “I hate to tell you this, but I have no intention of being your older brother.”
She looked at him. The moonlight sparkled across the water and upon the droplets that clung to his chest hair. He seemed sexier by the minute, and yet, no warning bells went off in her head.
She feared it might still be the whiskey.
“No, really,” she insisted. “That was a compliment. I always wanted some guy friends to pal around with. I thought after five years of marriage that I’d get some companionship from my husband, but, boy, was I wrong!” She smiled and gave him a little splash. “This has been just what the doctor ordered.”
“Good,” he answered in a husky tone, just staring at her.
“What?” she asked, her words lazy and maybe even more inviting than she had intended.
“How’d you meet him?”
“Who?” she asked, suddenly blank.
“Your husband.”
She almost laughed. “At a book reading. Can you imagine anything more dull? That should have been the first warning, huh?” She treaded water. “Then, after that, he decided to write the Great American Novel, and like the infatuated fool, I did everything I could to support him. Even when he took all the money I had to give with my little business, I still believed he deserved more. I always thought he needed to travel more, to prop up his surroundings so he could write. I had to be the perfect helpmate, and that meant to give and give and give ’till I and everything else was spent. But I wasn’t going to end up alone and poor like my mom.” She released a wry smile. “So since I’m alone now, I work 24/7, so I won’t be poor, too.”
A long pause reigned when the only sounds were the creak of the wheel