Should've Been A Cowboy & Cowboy Up: Should've Been a Cowboy / Cowboy Up. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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put his hat on the shelf by the door. “I’m warning you, you’ll get wet.”
She muttered something that sounded like I already am.
If that was an admission of how he’d affected her, he wanted to hear it again. “What was that?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
“Okay.” He doused the lights, and once they were both out the door, he turned and shoved it closed.
She yelped, and he swung around in time to see her land on her backside in the mud. He was beside her in three strides and leaned down to help her up. Except it didn’t work out that way. She managed to upset his balance just enough on the mud-slick ground that he went down, too. By throwing himself sideways, he avoided landing on top of her, but he had mud splattered all over his clothes.
“I’m sorry!” She scrambled to her knees, rain dripping from her hair into her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, other than the mud. Are you?”
“Yes, but...I don’t want to track all this into that beautiful house.”
There was a back way into the house for exactly this reason. It opened into the utility room adjoining the kitchen. There was even a narrow, seldom-used staircase that led from the kitchen to the second floor, an addition made when three growing, often dirty, boys had needed to get upstairs without making too big a mess.
But at the moment Tyler looked as if she’d entered a wet T-shirt contest. Surely any red-blooded male would forgive him for neglecting to tell her about the back entrance into the ranch’s utility room and the staircase to the second floor.
“There’s a cleanup sink in the barn,” he said. “We can go back and get the worst of it off there.”
“All right.”
He felt a little bit guilty for leading her back into the barn, but not much. When he’d kissed her a few minutes ago, she’d kissed him back. Vigorously. Vows of chastity were all well and good for some people, but he and Tyler weren’t those people. They needed each other too desperately.
Maybe they’d clean off the mud and go back to the house without anything happening. It was possible. But he couldn’t imagine four more days of nothing happening. To his way of thinking, they might as well get started now.
This time he didn’t turn on the overhead lamps. Low lights mounted near the floor were on a dusk-to-dawn sensor, and they glowed softly, illuminating the floor so they wouldn’t trip over anything and creating an ambience that suited the mood Alex hoped for. Rain hitting the tin roof added another romantic touch.
“Thanks for not turning on the lights,” Tyler said. “I’m a mess.”
“Not in my book.” Even in low light, he had a good view of her yellow shirt plastered to her body. Her nipples made dents in the soaked material, and it was all he could do not to reach for her, mud and all. But the next move needed to be hers, not his.
She slicked her wet hair back and squeezed some water out of the ends as she glanced upward. “I like the sound of rain on a tin roof.”
“Me, too.”
She met his gaze briefly and looked away. “Where’s the sink?”
“At the far end, beyond the last stall.”
Her running shoes squished as she walked down the aisle between the rows of stalls. “Is there a goat in here, too? I seem to remember something about a goat.”
“Yep, there’s a goat.” He followed her toward the back of the barn. “His name is Hornswaggled, and he shares a stall with a mare named Doozie. They’re inseparable.”
“Which stall?”
“Third from the end on the left.”
Tyler detoured over to that stall and looked in. “Sure enough. Hi, there, Doozie and Hornswaggled. How do you like this weather we’re having?”
Doozie stuck her nose over the stall door and the goat’s front hooves clacked against the wooden door as he propped himself against it to beg for his share of attention.
“They’re so friendly.” Tyler stroked Doozie’s nose with one hand and scratched the top of the goat’s head with the other.
Alex came to stand beside her. “The Last Chance prides itself on being a friendly place.”
“I’ve noticed.” She concentrated on the two animals instead of looking at him, but the color rose in her cheeks. “This horse isn’t a paint like all the others.”
“Nope. She was injured and needed a safe haven. Now she’s fine, but nobody’s willing to sell her, even if they can’t breed her.”
Dislodging Tyler’s hand, Doozie moved closer to Alex, gazing at him expectantly.
He reached out and rubbed her silky neck. “Sorry, Dooz. I don’t have any treats.”
Hornswaggled bleated softly.
“Nothing for you, either, Horny.”
Tyler groaned. “That nickname is so bad, Alex.”
“Don’t blame me. That’s what all the hands call him. He came to the ranch with that name, and nobody’s going to take the time to say all of it. Cowboys appreciate brevity.”
Tyler glanced sideways at Alex as she continued to scratch the goat’s head. “So how much of a cowboy are you these days? Do you ride the range and stuff?”
“I ride.” He liked being able to say that. “Mostly I ride Dooz. Why?”
“Just wondered. Last summer you were still a city boy. You even told me you weren’t the cowboy type, but you’re...different now.”
He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe she preferred city boys to cowboys. “How am I different?”
“Well, you dress differently, and your hair’s a little longer. Your face seems a little more chiseled, but maybe that’s because of your hair. Also, there’s something else, something harder to define, an attitude...”
“Are you saying I have an attitude?”
“Not in a bad way. It’s more like a quiet confidence.”
He was flattered, but still he had to laugh. “I just admitted a while ago that I have all kinds of doubts about this event tomorrow. That doesn’t seem like quiet confidence to me.”
“This isn’t about your job, it’s about...your...” She took a deep breath. “It’s about your sex appeal, okay? I have no business talking about it, because it will only make me want to do things I shouldn’t do.” She moved away from the stall door. “Where’s that sink?” She started toward the end of the barn. “We need to get cleaned up and go back to the house. Dinner is probably ready, and I—”
He spun her around and pulled her into his arms, mud and all. “Let’s do those things.” Then he kissed her, knowing that she would kiss him back, knowing that this time he would take that kiss where he wanted it to go, and she would let him.
Her mouth tasted of rain and desire, and he knew the rest of her would, too. Heart pounding with anticipation, he began to strip her down, peeling her T-shirt over her head, unhooking her soaked bra, unbuttoning her jeans. He encouraged her to help him in a voice hoarse with need.
She did, nudging off her shoes, kicking away her wet jeans, shimmying out of her panties. He warmed her chilled skin with his mouth and his hands—stroking, licking, kissing every fondly remembered inch of her. She moaned and quivered in his grasp.
Her moan of delight was the music he’d yearned to hear for ten long months. One night was all they’d had together, and yet his feelings for her were so damn strong. She seemed to be as caught up in the whirlwind as he was. When he closed his mouth over her taut nipple,