Page 27 of Revelry (Cowgirls Do It Better #2)

Gertie

Warmth encompassed my skin.

I kicked my legs, pushing to the surface and broke through the warm waves of water, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I gasped, the cool air attacking my skin and I could have sworn ice crystals formed on my flesh.

I never said I had smart ideas; I was just trying to have fun and make Tate have fun too and now, I was almost naked in a hot spring in winter.

I needed to style this out.

“Come on in, Tate, the water’s fine!” I shivered.

“Tell your chattering teeth that, I can hear them from here!” he bellowed, standing on the rocky surface, hands on his hips.

His silver eyes were molten but they had been since we’d sat down.

I’d needed to jump in the water to get some space to calm down.

Tate opening up to me was mind-blowing, I hadn’t expected it at all and after hearing everything he’d gone through, I just wanted to haul him to me and never let go.

And that was a dangerous feeling because not only was I trying to stay away from men, but this man wanted none of the same things I did. If I wasn’t careful to protect my heart, she might shatter all over again.

I’d needed a cold shower but the closest thing was the lake and well…we are where we are.

He stood, towering over the edge but kept looking behind him and around the trees.

“What are you doing?” I gasped; trying to smother another shiver that wracked me.

He scratched his head. “I feel like someone’s watching us!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I laughed, swimming closer. “We haven’t seen anyone since we set off. Now get in the hot spring!”

He snorted in derision. “You have to be joking.”

“Come on, Tatey, live a little!” I goaded.

For a brief moment, it actually looked like he was considering it before he shook his head. He bent down, stretching out his hand. “Come on Gertrude, let’s get you out of there.”

I kicked away, out of his reach, like a brat.

“Gertrude,” he warned. His formidable tone had a little sliver of warmth trickling through me. He was so stern, God I loved it. I kicked further, pushing myself past where my feet could touch, which wasn’t hard given how short I was.

Tate and I were locked in a stand-off, neither of us backing down. He folded his arms over his chest, glancing briefly over his shoulder before fixing his attention back on me.

I tried to lure him again. “Tate, it’s so warm in here, you should get in.”

“I’m not stripping off and getting in the water in DECEMBER!” He spread his arms wide for emphasis and it was the most animated I’d ever seen him.

“I think I’m getting a cramp,” I whined. His face changed immediately, doctor-mode kicking in.

“Really?” His hands went to the front of his black waterproof jacket.

“Really, Tate. I don’t think I can swim anymore.” I dipped slightly below the water.

Yes, I’m an asshole, I never said I wasn’t. But sometimes people needed to get out of their own way and it was down to chaos worshippers like me to help them, through fair means or foul.

I broke the surface again and saw him tugging his shoes off and fought back the grin trying to lift my lips. “Tate, quick!” I choked on some water, for real, all my own fault but it added to the drama of the situation.

“Hang on, I’m coming!” he cried, worry lining his voice that I would definitely feel guilty over later. He tugged his coat off and pulled his black sweater over his head and when I went under water again, it was purely to wash away the filthy thoughts I had.

He pulled his jeans down, leaving him standing there in black boxers which were holding back something very large.

“Oh damn,” I sighed.

“I’m coming Gertrude,” he declared, every inch my hero, and leapt into the water. He came up spluttering, gasping, “Fuck! That’s so warm!”

“I know, isn’t it great?”

He swam towards me in long strokes and was by my side in seconds, wrapping an arm around my waist and one under my knees.

“Great?” he asked, peering down at me, droplets on his lashes, trickling down his cheeks and landing in his Cupid’s bow.

“Hang on a minute.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you fake that to get me in the water?”

“Um, no?” I lied, unconvincingly.

He reared back. “Jesus, Gertrude, I thought you were drowning!”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “And you saved me, my hero!”

He shook his head, horror on his expression before I saw a playful gleam in his eye. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks.”

He laughed before lifting us up out of the water and tossing me further out. I shrieked as I landed none too gracefully, the water going over my head. I came up spluttering and swiping my hair out of my eyes.

“You asshole!”

“Oh yeah, I’m the asshole right now!” He swam over and then dunked me. I came up spluttering again and laughing as I pinched his side.

“Ow!” he cried and grabbed my feet, tickling them.

I shrieked loudly, “No Tate, not my feet please! I’ll scream, I’ll cry, I’ll potentially pee myself.”

“It’s fine, we’re already in warm water so no one will know,” he jeered comically and then mercilessly continued to tickle while I writhed and giggled.

I managed to link an arm around his neck and tug his hair.

He released my foot, and I pushed his shoulders down under water.

I held him down, not in a drowning you way but just for a second longer than needed.

I felt his fingers dance along my waist and then a gentle nibble at my side that had me moaning, not squealing.

I released his head, and he surfaced right in front of me, water sluicing down his face, before wrapping an arm around my hips to keep us locked together.

“You’re right, I feel so much more alert,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to my lips.

“Me too. So alert,” I said, my eyes dropping to his, wanting to trace a water droplet with my tongue.

Tension filled the wide-open space as he splayed his hand on my back and I felt tiny, delicate in his hands.

Again, I was struck by the contrast of how I felt with Tate than I had with any other man before.

My eyes lifted to his, his tongue ran over his lips and had me fighting another moan.

I was pressed against him, my arm slid around his shoulders and our bodies lined up.

His breath trekked over my face, and he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, lingering on the lobe.

I leaned forward, all my warnings and instincts screaming in my ears but I ignored them.

His lashes fluttered closed, and we were a second apart.

Then movement on the bank caught my eye.

I gasped, pushing away from Tate.

“No, Bert, no!” I shouted at the asshole bison who had just kicked the last of our clothes over the edge of the rocky platform.

He had such a smug expression on his stupid bison face, part of Tate’s sweater was dangling out of his mouth.

I started swimming back to the shoreline to give him a piece of my mind.

“I told you we were being watched!” Tate shouted as he swam after me. I had a head start but Tate, with his long, muscular arms, caught up in no time. When I was able to stand, I charged up the bank.

“Are you kidding me?” Tate yelled, sliding an arm around my waist and lifting me off my feet. “Are you going to confront a two-thousand-pound bison?”

I spun in Tate’s arms, my anger snapping out. “Bert’s not a bison, he’s an asshole! Kat was right.”

“He’s a wild animal who could flatten you! I know you’re a little feisty sometimes but surely you can see that you shouldn’t go over to him?” Tate reasoned, rubbing his free arm over mine to ward off the chill.

“He did it on purpose!”

“He did, did he?” Tate glanced over at Bert who was kicking a hoof in the leaves and ducked his head like a naughty dog.

“He knows what he’s doing. Kat warned me and I didn’t listen. We need to be vigilant around him!”

“You were the one who took your clothes off and left them where he could get them,” Tate replied.

“You can put me down now, I’m calm,” I sniffed.

“I don’t believe you.”

Tate carried me over and surprisingly Bert backed away, Tate’s sweater still in his mouth. I glanced over Tate’s shoulder and most of our clothes were floating nearby. Thank God Bert had left my boots alone. His skull would be mounted on my wall if he’d damaged my boots gifted from Charlie.

“Bert, we’re just going to get our stuff then get out of your territory,” Tate intoned calmly.

I snorted. “Don’t be nice to him, he’s an asshole.”

Bert shuffled backwards and my eyes widened when I saw he was almost the same height as Tate. He was a huge animal but he also radiated pesky childlike energy. Bert shuffled back far enough that it was safe to get our things. Our clothes were soaked, and we were freezing, and it was all my fault.

And partially Bert’s.

We put our boots on in silence, Tate glancing over at Bert who investigated some nearby bushes. “Where’s his herd?”

“They probably abandoned him because he’s a douchebag,” I grumbled, and Tate rolled his eyes.

“So he’s all alone? No wonder he’s getting into mischief, imagine how bored you’d be if you were meant to be around people and were all alone.”

I stared at Tate. “Yeah, imagine that,” I said pointedly. Interesting that he made that connection with Bert but not himself.

“We’ve got a long trek back to the truck, you gonna be okay?” Tate looked down at me, concern in his silver eyes.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh, it’s actually not that far. I took us in a loop, twice. We’re not far from Redemption Ranch.”

I expected anger, frustration, maybe even the silent treatment, but not the deep rumbling laugh that barreled its way out of Tate’s chest.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said again before taking my hand and heading the other way. “Sir,” he said, doffing his imaginary hat at Bert as we passed. I giggled at the silliness of it, loving this unseen version of Tate.

We trekked back in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts, our hands still clasped, and it wasn’t long before we found Tate’s truck parked on the road. We leapt inside, Tate firing up the seat warmers and we both shivered until our asses warmed.

As we drove past the trees, I thought I spotted Bert peering at us from the treeline but surely he wouldn’t have followed us all the way back?

I couldn’t be more grateful to pull into Tate’s driveway ten minutes later. He switched off the engine and shook his head, snorting.

“What?” I asked.

“You, with all those ridiculous directions. I drove for an hour and yet we only went ten minutes down the road.”

We got out and came around the front to face each other. “But did you have fun?”

He tipped his head back, his fingers tapping his chin. “You know what, I did. You’re two for two now.”

I pumped my fist. “Yes!”

He turned towards his door. “You coming in for a shower? Assuming yours isn’t fixed?”

I paused, I felt like if I went inside it was dangerous territory. I hadn’t had the shower fixed, because I purposely hadn’t called anyone out yet. I enjoyed our bathroom chats too much the last few days.

However, something was changing between us. There was a tension, a chemistry burning away. I didn’t know what it meant, other than I wanted to rip his clothes off and I was running low on willpower. Which meant I was vulnerable.

“Come on, you must be freezing. A hot shower will warm you up, I’ll even let you go first so you can use all the warm water,” he joked, and a smile split my lips.

“Sure, sounds great.”

I followed him inside, staring at his back as he shut the door, not just at the smooth skin covering perfect muscles but at the goosebumps dotting his flesh. He was shivering and cold and it was all my fault.

“You can join me,” I offered, shocking myself. He turned on the shower and opened the bathroom cabinet, pulling out a couple of towels. Then started to get out of his cold, damp clothes.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re freezing, I’m freezing. Let’s just share.”

His fiery stare met mine, his throat working in a slow swallow. “I’m not showering with you, Gertrude.”

“We’ll keep our underwear on, not a naked shower. It’ll be quicker and you won’t get hypothermic.”

He shook his head sharply and left a towel on the side before sitting down on the toilet lid and waiting.

I could see the goosebumps all across the arms he’d folded over his chest. Down his thick, toned thighs dusted with dark hair.

I sighed before I stepped into the bath, damning him for the gentleman he was.

The hot water hitting me felt like paradise. I lathered my hair with shampoo but I could hear a sound on the outside of the shower and sighed again, loudly.

“Tate, I can hear your teeth chattering. Just get in here, dammit!” I shouted and a moment later, the curtain was pulled back and he was crowding in behind me.

A sizzle of awareness shot between my thighs as he braced his arms on the wall over my head and dipped down, pushing his head under the shower and groaning.

I suddenly realized exactly why we shouldn’t have done this.

It was erotic as fuck. Watching the water run through his hair and trail down his neck and shoulders, over his chest, dripping off his small, brown nipples and getting lost in the maze of his abs.

I was awestruck, dumbstruck, hornystruck, is that a thing?

“Hands out,” he commanded in a rough voice. I cupped my hands as he squeezed some shower gel into them. His scent was all around me and I couldn’t get away from it. It shot up my nostrils, glided through my veins and I was practically panting.

He didn’t make eye contact with me as he washed himself, running his hands over his chest and I felt like there should be some kind of raunchy music playing as I watched him.

Cough… objectified him …cough.

“Gertrude, Christ, stop looking at me like that. I’m begging you,” Tate groaned.

I met his stare, his silver eyes swirling.

I was hypnotized, that’s the only reason I reached out and traced a line down his stomach, goosebumps erupting along the path.

His breath hitched and his grip circled my wrist, halting my progress.

He pushed me against the wall, pinning me with his rock-hard pelvis.

God, I wanted to feel that between my thighs.

He would be perfect, he would ruin me. I just knew it.

And I’d thank him for it after.

“Tate,” I breathed as his mouth inched closer to mine, closing the distance so achingly slowly. And then he was gone.

He spun us in the tub, rinsing himself off before I could even fathom what was happening and he was out of the shower, leaving me all alone.