Page 3 of Her Grumpy Cowboy (Courage County Standalones #1)

Jenna

By the time I arrive back at Walker’s barn, the rain is coming so quickly that I can barely see, and my heart feels like it’s in my throat. My knuckles are white from where I’m gripping the steering wheel. It’s getting harder to draw in a deep breath.

I stop in front of the barn just as Walker is shoving the doors shut. He hurries to the truck but I’m barely able to focus. All I can see is the white lights of the truck that should have swerved. Why didn’t he swerve?

He calls my name in a panicked tone and I finally blink at him. He must have opened the door at some point. “What the hell happened?”

“Bridge. Out,” I manage through chattering teeth.

He swears. “Scoot over.”

I slide across the bench seat, and he joins me in the cab. Instantly, it feels smaller in here but instead of freaking me out, his presence comforts me. I’m not alone anymore.

“Are you OK?” He flicks the heat on high. He’s soaked from the rain, but he’s not focused on himself. Instead, he’s staring at me with those brown eyes so filled with concern.

Black spots float in front of my vision.

“Hey, hey. Breathe with me,” he instructs as he starts a familiar slow-breathing process.

I mimic his pattern until my own breathing starts to even out and the black spots recede. The familiar panic slowly leaves. In its place, there’s only relief. And embarrassment. A lot of embarrassment.

Walker doesn’t ask me any questions. He doesn’t even look at me. He’s just staring out the windshield at the driving rain and giving me time to collect myself.

When I look down, I realize he’s holding my hand. I don’t even remember reaching for him. I should probably move but his big one is so warm. It’s dotted with callouses from his years of hard work on the ranch.

“I’m OK now,” I tell him.

He doesn’t stop holding my hand. The only indication he even heard me is the slightest nod.

“It’s not normally like that,” I explain. Normally, I can at least function during a thunderstorm. I don’t enjoy them. But it doesn’t usually lead to a panic attack.

He still says nothing, and I’ve never talked to anyone about this. It doesn’t seem like Walker is the type to gossip so I continue, “About two years ago, I was driving during a thunderstorm and a truck crossed the center line.”

He squeezes my hand gently and just that tiny bit of reassurance makes me feel safer than I have in years.

“I mean, I was lucky. I only got minor cuts and bruises. The other driver was fine too. But driving is different now.” I’m hyperaware of other drivers and every move they make. I’m constantly scanning for oncoming traffic, and I never quite feel like I can relax when I’m behind the wheel.

“I never told my dad what happened. I was too afraid to call him. Too worried that he wouldn’t show up at the hospital or worse, be disappointed that I survived.” I swallow around the lump in my throat.

I know he regrets my birth. My mom, the woman who was the love of his life, died in labor. Since I was a kid, he’s looked at me like he wishes I would have died with her. I’m the burden he got saddled with, the constant reminder of the worst day of his life.

“Jenna…” Walker calls my name and it’s such a sweet sound on his lips. He doesn’t call it in annoyance or irritation. There’s no pity in his tone either. Instead, there’s something else there. Longing and tenderness.

I force myself not to think like that. I’m imagining what I want to hear. Instead, I manage a weak chuckle. “Now you know my deep, dark secret.”

I wish I’d never opened my mouth. I wish I hadn’t been so vulnerable with him. Why couldn’t I have gotten there before the bridge washed away? If I’d only been ten minutes earlier, I could be safely back at the Feed and Seed.

“When I was a kid, I was with my older brother when a chainsaw got him. He didn’t make it and…I still can’t stand the sound of one of them starting up.” He blows out a breath. “Some things stick with you more than others.”

He’s opened himself up to me and I hold the piece close.

Walker turns, finally looking at me. the compassion in his gaze overwhelms me. “We’re even. One of my deep, dark secrets for one of yours. Now, let’s get back to my place while this is still slacking off.”

I nod along because I’d follow Walker anywhere. Maybe he’s not the guy I thought he was. Maybe this grumpy cowboy has a softer, sweeter side that he doesn’t show anyone.

The drive to Walker’s place takes nearly thirty minutes and the rain continues to pound on the roof. Still, the inside of the cab is warm and cozy.

Walker doesn’t say anything, but he keeps holding my hand.

He has it tucked against his thigh like he doesn’t want me to take it back.

It sends tingles down my arm to feel his skin against mine.

Part of me wants to pull my hand away just so I can trace the inside of his thigh.

Would he like it if I touched him there?

Would he sigh in pleasure and encourage me to go higher and higher until I cupped his manhood?

I squeeze my own thighs together at the images. Walker has always been hot but after the way he was kind to me earlier, I want him even more now. Would he be like that if we were making love? Would he be kind and sweet or rough and demanding? I want more than anything to find out.

He finally pulls the truck to a stop in front of a white two-story cottage house with three dormer windows and a wraparound porch.

There’s a bench swing on one end and I wonder what it would be like to sit on it with Walker.

Would he tell me about his day and listen as I told him about mine?

Would he give me that compassionate look he gave me when we were trading secrets?

Could I finally be somewhere that my presence is more than a bother, where I could be more than just tolerated?

“It’s so pretty. I had a dollhouse like this when I was young.” I blow out a breath, a strange feeling in my chest. Almost like I belong here. But that’s crazy. Walker is so much older than me. He’s experienced and hot. He wouldn’t be interested in a curvy virgin who’s never been kissed…would he?

“It’d be prettier if I had someone to come home to,” he admits in a quiet voice. “My parents passed away a few years back and now it’s just me alone in the big house.”

He’s lonely. The thought makes me ache for him and even though he’ll probably push me away, I crawl into his lap. I don’t know why I do it, only that it feels right. The moment his hands go to my hips, everything is perfect.

I settle against him, feeling the tell-tale ridge in his pants. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s been sitting here with dirty thoughts. The idea makes my heart beat faster.

“Jenna.” He sounds as if he’s in pain but not the bad kind.

I put my hands on his shoulders, feeling how strong and solid he is. My man is used to hard work. “Kiss me.”

Walker

I stare at my house, feeling pride when she calls it pretty. She makes it sound almost as if she wants to live here with me. The idea appeals to me more than she’ll ever know. I imagine filling the house with our babies. We’d have half a dozen or more because I’d breed her every chance I get.

“It’d be prettier if I had someone to come home to.”

Someone like you.

Jenna unbuckles her seatbelt and the next thing I know she’s crawling into my lap.

My hands slip around her thick hips, and she plants a knee on either side of my thighs.

It’s a tight fit in the cab of this truck which is fine by me since her pretty little tits are pressed right up against my chest.

When she settles right over my straining dick, I swear this is heaven. I haven’t taken a stitch of clothing off of her and it’s still so damn sexy.

“Jenna.” I meant to put a warning in my tone, to let her know that she’s only one second away from being devoured by this insatiable cowboy.

But instead, my voice comes out strangled.

She has to know I’m on the edge, and the thing about it is that I don’t care about going over. Not if she’s the reason that I do.

“Kiss me,” she breathes the words out softly, like a prayer she’s afraid won’t be heard. But I’ll always be the one to listen to her. It made me feel sick when she talked about being worried that her father would be disappointed she survived.

What kind of man lets his daughter grow up feeling anything less than treasured and adored? If Jenna were with me, I’d never let her doubt it for a second. She’d know every minute of every day just how much I cherish her.

Since I’m not the kind of cowboy that’s good at talking, I’ll have to show her what I’m feeling. I cup her face in my hand. Her skin is so delicate and soft. Her plump lips part and her cheeks pinken. In this moment, I’m suddenly sure of one thing: this woman is mine.