Page 11 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Seven

Beth

W HEN CHRISTOPHER WOULD DRINK, he would really, really drink, and I can’t tell you how much I hated that.

Not just because he was a mean drunk, but because he’d reach a tipping point of wanting to sleep together, every time he was drunk, and the smell of his whisky breath and the weight of him on top of me turns my stomach when I remember it.

So even though I’ve had three glasses of wine over dinner—a delicious pulled pork and cornbread—I’m aware that Cole has sat on his second beer all night, taking a sip here and there, but otherwise maintaining an air of easy authority and control.

It’s a very sexy, reassuring trait. It makes me glad I changed my mind and decided to join them.

I mean, I wasn’t going to. In fact, I was determined not to.

But then, seeing him walk in here, that tight ass and jeans, his sexy, confident swagger, had me staring at the sign for The Silver Spur while I screwed up my confidence to actually come inside.

“You wanna give it a go?” Mack asks, and I realize I’m staring at the mechanical bull across the tavern.

I shake my head quickly. I’ve seen people getting on that thing all night, laughing their heads off before being thrown to the ground. I can’t think of anything worse. “I’m good,” I reassure her.

“It’s nothing like the real thing, anyway.”

I stare at Mack. “You’ve been on an actual bull?”

She laughs then, in that way she has, and I’m glad Cole warned me about her, because if I hadn’t been prepared for her acerbic manner, I might have been offended tonight.

But it’s just Mackenzie. Like Cole said, she doesn’t mean anything by it.

In fact, if anything, I kind of like her no bullshit approach to conversation.

At least with Mackenzie, I know where I stand.

“We all have,” she says, and I hear the pride in her voice when she groups herself with these guys. The fact she’s one of them.

“No way,” I shake my head and shudder, looking around the table.

“It’s kind of a rite of passage in these parts,” Cole says, and my insides tighten.

When I arrived, there was one seat spare at their table.

I don’t know if he’d left it for me, or if it was just happenstance, but it wasn’t near him, and all night, I’ve had this growing, insatiable wish that we were sitting together.

I imagine our knees brushing underneath the table, and the fizz of warmth that would spread through me, or our hands bumping as we reached for drinks and ate our meals.

My throat does that weird constriction thing again.

I really need to stop looking at him like that.

Stop thinking of him like this. He’s my boss for the next three months, I’m living under his roof, and I want to keep it that way.

This place is my safe haven. They don’t realize it, but Coyote Creek Ranch is where I’ve come to put myself back together again.

It would be stupider than anything to get involved with some cowboy, just because he’s so drop dead gorgeous my body can’t get the memo that I’m not interested.

I haven’t even been out here a week. It’s the novelty, that’s all.

It caught me off guard. Seeing someone like Cole, his overpowering strength, and the fact he’s got something kind and gentle about him, too.

In fact, I bet that’s what this all boils down to.

I’ve spent the last few years fearing for my very survival, being terrified of the man I pledged my heart and life to, and now I’ve met someone who just makes me feel like he would keep me—and anyone—from harm’s way. Because it’s just who he is.

Like his father.

The thought makes my lips twist in a smile, and Cole quirks a brow.

Oh, crap. I’m still looking at him. And smiling.

Thankfully, Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) has started playing and everyone but Cole and me has gotten up to dance, so no one sees me looking like some love-struck teenager.

In fact, it feels like the whole bar has hit the floor, moving tables aside and shaking their asses.

I look around, mesmerized by the heaving bodies, the happiness, the way the air seems to zap with carefree joy.

“Everyone left,” I say, which is the point at which I realize I’m really feeling those glasses of wine.

“They’re dancing,” he says, with a small twist of his lips.

“Everyone’s dancing.” Okay, time to go. I’m sounding like a fourth grader—if that.

“It’s that kinda song. That kinda night.”

“Right.” I swish my finger through my necklace then stop when his eyes drop to the gesture. “You’re not dancing.” And then, because of the stupid wine, I swear, I get up and move down to the seat Beau was occupying a few minutes ago. It’s still warm from his cowboy butt.

If Cole’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. He stays right where he is, that big frame taking up too much space, his elbow resting on the table, his eyes fixed on me.

“Not tonight.”

“But you do dance?”

“When I feel like it.”

“Why don’t you feel like it?”

His eyes probe mine and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something profound and deep, but instead, he leans forward, so our faces are just an inch apart. “I just don’t.”

It’s not really funny, but I smile anyway, my heart flickering.

I wonder if carefree is contagious? The song switches to another upbeat country track but I only register it in the very back of my mind.

All of me is focused on the man sitting so close.

Who is my boss , sanity tries to barge in, but Chardonnay says ‘no’.

Right now, he’s just a hot cowboy with eyes I could get lost in, and I’m feeling something good in my belly, something I haven’t known in a really long time.

Something a little bit like contentment.

It’s these people, this music, this food.

It’s Cole, and the way he is, but it’s his family and friends, too.

I even like Mack. They’re just so different to the people I knew back home, and right now, anything different to home is where I want to be.

“Do you wanna dance?” He’s not asking me to dance. At least, I don’t think he is. I think he’s asking if I would rather be out there in the teaming mass of bodies than sitting here, beside him.

I glance at the crowd, and catch Austin and Mack locked in a deep conversation, which causes Mack to roll her eyes and shake her head. Austin laughs. Beau is dancing with a curvaceous red head, a wide grin on his handsome face.

Caleb’s at the bar, hat tipped low on his brow as he talks to the guy serving drinks.

I glance back at Cole. Thank goodness I don’t blab exactly what I’m thinking: that I’m right where I want to be. I shake my head, lips pressed together, and only when I can trust myself not to be completely honest do I say, “Too fast for me. I’m still recovering from my run.”

He laughs then, the sound low and husky. “The hills gotcha.”

“Yeah, I guess.” The truth is, I’m looking forward to my next session.

To getting back to running, period. I’ve got gear now; proper shoes and clothes and I’m planning on getting out and exploring the ranch at my own speed.

But an ingrained habit of keeping things close to my chest, for fear of whatever I love being taken away by Christopher, keeps me quiet.

Even when I think Cole isn’t like that—how can I really know?

When do you ever really know anyone?

My happiness dips a little. Is this all an illusion? Am I wrong to see him as a protector? After all, I fell hard and fast in love with Christopher and though I’ve wracked my brains over the years, there were no signs of what was to come when we were dating.

“I should go,” I say, and it’s abrupt even to my own ears. I scrape back the chair as I stand and look around for my bag, frowning a little. Swaying a little more as my eyes go blurry, before I see it hooked on the back of a chair and reach for it.

“Okay, sure,” Cole agrees, standing, hand in pocket. In that home-spun country manners way of his.

I turn to face him. “Thanks for inviting me. I…actually had fun.”

“You sound surprised.”

I pull a face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had fun.” I’m speaking without thinking. Saying whatever pops into my head. I can recognize it, but I don’t seem able to stop.

“Oh yeah?”

I nod slowly. Get out of here, girl. “I should go,” I repeat.

“You said that.” His grin makes my knees knock.

“Yeah.” I nod, and start to move.

“Beth.” His hand snakes out and wraps around my wrist. I jump halfway out of my skin, but not because of Christopher. This is all because of Cole, and the way he makes me feel. “You ain’t driving.”

I stare up at him, his words not computing.

“I’ll take you home.”

Home. The word almost threatens to bring tears to my eyes.

“I’m okay,” I lie. I’m definitely not okay. I would never get behind the wheel after having the better part of a bottle of wine. In the city, I have a driver. This is not something I usually need to think about.

“I—,”

He presses a finger to my lips, silencing me, and my heart rams so hard against my ribs I think it’s going to bounce right out and start honky tonking with the rest of the bar.

“Let’s get you home.” He says it again—just a throwaway line—without realizing that having a home is something he takes for granted and I really don’t.

I nod quickly, ignoring the threat of tears, spinning quickly so that if my eyes mist over he won’t see.

But the whole bar spins with me and I think I might have fallen over if Cole hadn’t wrapped a strong, muscled arm around my waist and pulled me close to his side, supporting my whole body as we make our way through the bar and to the wide saloon style doors.

“I’m okay,” I repeat, at some point, but he keeps his arm wrapped around me all the way to his pickup.

“My car…”

“Give me your keys. I’ll drive it back later.”

I frown. “But your car,” I say, trying to work out the logistics with a brain that’s not firing on all cylinders. He uses his free hand to open the front passenger door.