Cowboy Up. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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or his water glass in case somebody noticed how he was trembling.
Good God, he wasn’t some inexperienced teenager anymore. In the time since he and Emily had first met he’d had two serious girlfriends and several who would’ve liked to become serious. These days he knew his way around a bedroom and understood a thing or two about pleasing a woman once he got her in there.
And yet, one brilliant smile from this California girl had reduced him to the hormonal kid he’d been ten years ago. She hadn’t wanted him then, but he had a strong suspicion she wanted him now. He wasn’t sure why, because she sure as hell wasn’t interested in sticking around Jackson Hole, and he was here for the duration.
Curiosity, maybe. She’d never indulged herself with somebody like him and had decided now was as good a time as any.
But none of that mattered, because no matter what she had in mind, nothing would happen between them. Emmett’s trust guaranteed that. Clay would sooner cut off his right arm than betray the man who’d encouraged him to be the person he was today.
EMILY WASN’T SURE HOW she managed to eat anything at all as the meal progressed, and several times she almost dumped food on herself. Sitting next to Clay was like surfing in a storm—exhilarating but dangerous. He’d showered and changed before coming to lunch, and she almost wished he hadn’t. His pine-scented cologne was nice, but she preferred the raw energy of his sweat-soaked body.
She wasn’t sure who was generating the most sexual heat as they sat side by side eating lunch, but she sensed that he was as turned on by her as she was by him. He was nervous about that, though, and she didn’t blame him. He clearly idolized her father, and anyone with half a brain would be able to tell that Clay was a principled guy. He wouldn’t want to do anything that would upset Emmett.
She didn’t want to upset Emmett, either, so her fascination with Clay was a tricky business. As much as her dad wouldn’t want Clay seducing her, conversely he wouldn’t want her seducing Clay, especially if she didn’t have any intention of sticking around. And she didn’t.
Maybe on this visit she liked the ranch better than she had before, but that only meant she considered it a good vacation spot. There was really nothing for her to do here. She didn’t possess the particular skill set that would make her a…what had her dad called Clay? A top hand.
No, she was a far cry from being a top hand. She still hadn’t figured out what she was good at. She loved to surf, but not enough to make a pro career out of it. Fashion design was out, and retail sales bored her to tears.
But she wouldn’t solve her career dilemma hanging around the Last Chance. Once her visit was over, she’d return to her receptionist position at a medical complex in Santa Barbara. Maybe she’d go out with the cute doctor who kept asking her for a date. She hadn’t been seriously involved with anyone since last year, when a surfing buddy had proposed.
She’d realized he was far more emotionally invested than she was and had gently turned him down. Besides, she had no business marrying someone when she didn’t know where her life was headed. She wished she could be more focused, like Clay. Spending time with him this afternoon might give her some insights. At the very least, she’d be able to enjoy the sexual buzz they had going on.
As the meal ended and everybody stood to leave, Clay helped her from her chair—a gallant gesture she wasn’t used to from the men she knew. “Thanks.” She turned to him. “Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I thought you could call me when you’re ready for me to help you.”
He grinned. “How about if I just come up to the house and get you?”
Oooh. Great smile. She curled her toes into the leather soles of her boots. “That works.”
Emmett put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. “If you go riding later on, see if somebody will loan you a hat.”
She glanced up at him. “Why do I need one?”
“For the most part, to keep you from being sunburned.”
“Dad, I surf every weekend, and nobody wears a hat while they’re on a surfboard. I have a good base tan and I have sunglasses. That’s enough.”
Her father looked over at Clay. “Would you see that she puts on a hat before she goes out? I know we have extras lying around somewhere.”
“Excuse me.” Emily inserted herself between the two men. “I will not be treated like an obstinate female who needs to be managed by the men who know more than she does.”
Clay laughed. “Then don’t be obstinate. Wear a hat.”
“Why should I?” She was intrigued by the fact that he was joking with her instead of getting irritated. She liked that kind of easygoing attitude.
“Because you’re at a higher altitude here than you’re used to, so the ozone layer’s thinner and you could still burn. Besides that, if you’re going to help me this afternoon, you’re going to sweat, and the hat will keep the sweat from running in your eyes. I suppose you could wear a do-rag, instead, but personally I think the hat would look better on you.”
Well, then. She hadn’t thought about the value of a hat as an accessory. She should have, after being conditioned in that direction for most of her twenty-seven years by her fashion-conscious mother. If Clay thought she’d look better in a hat, no further argument was needed.
She turned to Sarah, who had been standing to one side watching the action with obvious amusement. “Got a hat I might be able to borrow?”
Sarah nodded. “Come with me.”
3
EMMETT GLANCED AT Clay. “Look, I hope she won’t be in your way this afternoon. I didn’t ask what you had on your agenda.”
And Clay wasn’t at liberty to discuss that. “It’ll be fine.” He would make it so, regardless of his strong attraction to the golden California girl.
“I invited her to come with me so she could do some shopping—my treat, of course. To my surprise, she wanted to stay here, instead.”
“Huh.” That surprised Clay, too.
“I know. I thought she loved to shop. Three years ago when she came to the ranch, we made a couple of trips into Shoshone, but the stores there aren’t what she’s used to. So when I took her back to the airport, we built in extra time for her to browse through those fancy places in Jackson.”
“She was here three years ago, then. I wondered how often she’d made it over.”
Emmett looked sad. “Not often enough, but I can’t blame her for that. It works both ways. Like I told her this morning, I could have made more trips to Santa Barbara.”
“Yeah, but …” Clay thought of the freeways and the traffic snarls and grimaced.
“I don’t relish that area, either. But until this time, I didn’t think she relished staying on the ranch—yet she comes to see me, even so.”
“What do you mean until this time?”
Emmett rubbed the back of his neck. “I took her on a tour of the barn, like always. In the past, she acted like that was no big deal. I could tell she liked the horses, but she wouldn’t let herself really get into it. I figured her mother had brainwashed her pretty damned well. But this morning was different. Apparently she’s starting to think for herself.”
“That’s great.” Clay hoped the foreman wasn’t making too much of a passing fancy on Emily’s part. He didn’t want the guy to get his hopes up that Emily would suddenly turn into a cowgirl.
“I know what you’re thinking, son.”
Clay’s chest tightened with emotion. He loved having Emmett call him son, even though he knew that cowboys used that