Page 6 of My Match with the Cowboy (Sterling Brothers Ranch #4)

FIVE

CALDER

I don’t sleep at all after dropping Imogen off at her run down little cabin. My thoughts are racing, a total mess because I can’t believe I actually told her my suspicions.

And I can’t believe she didn’t shut them down immediately.

Maybe she’s not a total stick in the mud after all.

Or maybe I’m just an idiot overthinking things.

I sigh as I pull into her driveway. It’s pitch black outside, the rain not stopping any time soon.

The thought of her walking in this makes me…

angry. It’s a strange feeling, the swell of emotion rising within me.

It takes a lot to get me angry, but here I am.

Angered over the thought that she could have gotten hurt walking to work or worse, all because her car shit itself.

I’m barely idling in the driveway for a second before she darts out from the cabin.

Imogen holds something above her head as she rushes down a path cutting through the front yard.

I half expect her to dodge the truck and try her luck walking.

I should never have brought up Iris playing matchmaker. It was dumb as hell.

And yet, Imogen throws the passenger door open and slides in with a huff, dropping her bag and sitting back. Cold air rushes through the truck, the smell of rain heavy on the wind.

“Morning, trouble,” I say, cranking the heat as soon as the door closes. She shudders, arms crossed.

Dark eyes flicker to mine. “Morning,” she mutters.

I smirk. “Don’t tell me: you haven’t had your morning coffee.”

If looks could kill, I’d be bones drying in the desert.

Now, I understand better than most the importance of coffee.

Unlike my twin, who rolls out of bed grumpy and remains it the whole day—coffee or not—I need a good cup of it before I start the day.

I’m not my charming self without it. And the ladies of the family rely on it, too.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, watching Imogen closely. Her lips purse, forming a firm line. I don’t flinch, and I certainly don’t back off. I could just pull out and drive her to work without another word, but my heart races with the anticipation of getting under her skin.

After a moment, Imogen sighs and buckles herself in. “My coffee maker died,” she mutters, leaning her head back against the seat. “So, no, I have not had my morning cup. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

I chuckle lightly to myself and finally pull away from her cabin. In the darkness, the building is even more eery. It gives me a bad feeling, knowing she’s here alone.

I know better than to voice it, though.

“Tomorrow, I’ll make you one,” I promise. “Nothing ‘round here will be open now.”

I can feel her stare burning the side of my head. “Who said you were picking me up tomorrow?”

I glance at her, smiling. “Sorry, trouble. But until this funeral is planned, you’re stuck with me.”

That promise shouldn’t have me so excited. I can’t help but love the way her eyes narrow, the crinkle of her nose as she watches me. It’s too damn easy. And I know, I’m going to have fun with this one.

The day drags on, each chore taking longer than the last. I know Casper senses something is off, but like the good brother he is, he doesn’t question it.

When my cell pings with the alarm to go pick Imogen up after her shift, my heart skips a beat. I barely look at Casper when I leave, jumping in my truck and heading into town.

Her perfume clings to the passenger seat. I hadn’t noticed it over the rain, but it’s so subtle now. Light. Not overwhelming like a lot of perfume can be. It’s sweet like vanilla, but there’s a hint of something richer in there. Like tobacco.

I shake my head, pulling into the parking lot.

It doesn’t take long for Imogen to appear, her hair no longer in the neat bun she had it in when I picked her up.

It falls in long, loose waves down to her collarbone, thick and dark.

She runs a hand through it as she approaches the truck, her eyes shifting between me and the dark sky.

When she opens the door, she says, “I could have gotten home on my own.”

I glance out the windshield at the oncoming storm. “Sure, trouble,” I reply, smirking as she slides into the truck. “But after what happened last night? I doubt you’d try.”

A flush darkens her already rosy cheeks. Sweat dampens her hairline, strands of dark hair framing her face. Her scrubs today are a deep purple with little moons all over them.

After a moment, Imogen shakes her head. “Any reason why we’re still idling here?” She looks at me, her own lips twisting into a smirk. “I have places to be.”

I raise a brow as I pull out of my parking space and head towards open road. “Do you, now?”

“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ as she settles in her seat.

“I have a microwave dinner calling my name. And my bed.” She moans, eyes closing.

The sound goes right to my cock. For a hot moment, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have her under me, writhing on my dick, panting my name, coming undone to my ministrations.

I want to know what her lips taste like, how she sounds when she comes.

I shift uncomfortably as I turn down her street. “How about I take you out?” I blurt, keeping my eyes on the road. “Or, better yet, I take you to the ranch?”

“What makes you think I want to see your ranch?” she shoots back, arms crossed.

The burn of her stare should not be turning me on the way it does. And yet, I’m still rock hard. “Don’t you want to see the place Iris wants to be laid to rest?”

From the corner of my eye, I catch the narrowing of her stare. The purse of her lips. I can tell she’s considering my words despite the fact I shouldn’t be able to read her like that.

But she sighs, shaking her head. Those dark eyes flicker from me to the dark sky. “Fine,” she says, hands dropping to her lap. “But you should buy me dinner first.”

I can’t help the relief that floods through me at her words. “You got it, trouble,” I reply.

I bypass her shitty little cabin and take her into town.

Lights flood the main road, twinkling and bright against the darkness of the sky.

If there’s one way to describe Willow Ridge, it’d be picturesque.

There’s something sweet about the town, especially at night with the way strings of fairy lights line the street to illuminate the sidewalk, that makes for a great date night.

Which is not what this is , I tell myself as I pull into Dawson’s Diner. I shut the truck off, and without looking at her, I say, “Wait here. I’ll grab something for you.”

Imogen leans her head back against the headrest, eyes fluttering. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Don’t be too long.”

For the first time since she got into the truck, I notice how exhausted she is. Part of me feels bad for bringing her here instead of taking her home, but she also needs more than just a microwave dinner for all the work she does.

I release a breath when I leave the truck and the sky opens up.

Thankfully, the diner isn’t too busy, and it doesn’t take too long for them to whip up something good.

The smell of delicious diner food is strong when the bag of food is handed to me.

The waitress, an older woman I’ve pretty much known my whole life, smiles warmly when I take it.

“That’s not your usual, Calder,” she says.

I shake my head, taking a step back. “Because this isn’t for my brother,” I reply, winking. “Have a good night.”

When I get back to the truck, Imogen’s eyes are closed like she’s sleeping. But as soon as I close the door, she makes a sound in the back of her throat, head lulling to the side. Her eyes flicker open, taking in the bag of hot food sitting on my lap.

“Oh.” She sits up. “Gimme.”

I chuckle and hand her the bag. “How’re you feeling?” I ask, starting the engine. As I back out, I pass her quick glances, waiting for her response.

Imogen shrugs but clutches the bag in her lap. “Tired.” She barely holds back a yawn, making me chuckle again. “Thanks for the food.”

My heart warms at her words. The usual bite is gone, probably because she’s too tired to fight me.

Which means I might be able to convince her to stay with me tonight.

I’m not sure why the idea makes my belly flutter the way it does, but I like the idea of spending more time with her.

I don’t want to drop her off and wait to see her again.

I’m not used to feeling this way. I usually don’t mind saying goodbye. I’m not in a position for anything real , so all the relationships I’ve had before were short lived.

Except you aren’t in a relationship with Imogen , I tell myself, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. She stares out the passenger window as we take the road leading out of Willow Ridge towards the miles of open farmland.

“Since moving here, I haven’t actually explored,” Imogen admits, her eyes meeting mine briefly. “I didn’t even know there was a diner in town. I just knew about the cafe near work because it’s the only place I ever had time to see.”

I lean back, following the silent road. The rain isn’t as heavy anymore, just…there.

“How long have you been here?” I ask.

“Two weeks.” Imogen ducks her head. “I went straight into work. All my free time is spent trying to fix my house.”

I don’t really know how to respond to that as I turn onto the ranch. The lights are out in the main house, and I can’t see my older brother’s cabins from here. I bypass them towards the barn, though I’m not even sure if I should take her there with the other guys in the bunks.

Instead, I drive her to a part of the ranch that overlooks everything. Quiet, peaceful, a place that might give me a chance to understand her better.

Imogen sighs when the engine shuts off. “Alright, I can understand why she likes this place,” she says, sitting back. “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought you weren’t a ranch person?” I tease, grabbing the bag from her.

Trouble just shakes her head. “I can admit when I’m wrong.” She grins tiredly. The sight of her in the dark of my truck does something to me. Creates a hunger that I won’t be able to quench.

I want to lean over and kiss her. Even if it’s only once.

I set the bag down, eyes locked on hers. Imogen’s lips part on a breath. “Calder?”

My gaze flickers to her lips, then back to her eyes. “There’s something I want to do, trouble. You going to give me grief about it?”

Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Depends,” she murmurs, “on what it is.”

I chuckle, heart racing, and lean towards her. Soon, the space between us disappears. I capture her chin lightly between my fingers, waiting for her to pull away. When she doesn’t, I inch closer, closing the gap.

Imogen’s eyes widen. “Calder…” Her voice is breathy, and yet she still doesn’t pull away.

“One minute,” I murmur.

I brush my lips against hers lightly, a featherlight kiss to test the waters. Imogen sucks in a breath, leaning into my touch, and it’s all I need to claim her mouth completely.

And for the first time in too long, I feel like I’m finally where I’m meant to be.