Page 17 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Ten

Beth

H ONESTLY, UNTIL THIS VERY moment, I really wasn’t even sure I was going to come. The note I found from Cole on my desk this morning—the morning after he rode up and lost his temper at me for the sin of going for a run—was direct, and to the point:

Beth,

Running gear on, 6pm. Meet me near the roses.

C.

I spend most of the day downing coffee after coffee and fuming, imagining not meeting him at all. But then, after last night, I’m pretty sure he’d just come stomping in here and pick another fight with me.

Not that I hate that idea.

How weird that I spent my entire marriage trying to keep my head down and avoid arguing with Christopher but with Cole, there’s something about seeing his passion rise to the surface that sparks everything good inside me. It sets me half on fire and I love it.

I’ll admit it; I’m intrigued. So, just before six, I change into my running gear, grab my water pack and head out of the house and around to the rose garden.

He’s standing there, but not like I’ve ever seen him before.

I actually do a double take, because this version of Cole could easily be part of a Central Park early morning running club.

He’s wearing black shorts and a grey shirt with a white tick on the right pec, and dark grey joggers.

He raises his brows as I approach, like he also wasn’t expecting me to come. and is showing his surprise.

“I wanted to go for a run, anyway,” I say defensively, not greeting him or offering any other pleasantries. “What’s this about, Cole?”

“I’m coming with you.”

My lips pull to the side. Well, that explains the outfit. “You really don’t have to.”

“I think we established yesterday that I do.”

I shake my head. “I run alone.”

“Not anymore you don’t.”

“Being alone is part of what I like about running.”

“I’ll run behind you. You won’t know I’m there.”

I roll my eyes but just manage to stop saying that he’s delusional if he thinks he can so much take a breath without me realizing it. Cole has infused all of me with hypersensitivity when it comes to him.

“This is not optional.”

I stare at him, that last sentence really getting on my nerves, for obvious reasons. “If you want me to agree to something, you’re better off not bullying me into it. Nothing triggers me more than being told what to do.”

His jaw throbs. “Then start listening the first time I say something.”

“You really are an arrogant?—,”

He steps forward then, pressing a finger to my lips. The gesture sends a thousand darts of heat flying through my body, totally blotting out my anger and irritation.

“Don’t say it,” he suggests, then, softer. “I don’t wanna fight with you, Beth.” His hand drops away and I have to bite back a groan. I like it when he touches me. I really like it.

This is a serious problem.

“I’ve been keeping people ‘round here safe all my life, and I don’t know how to stop. So would you just let me run along behind you?”

Would I let him? Now, that was better. Being asked makes all the difference.

“Fine,” I say, taking a step back, because if I stay where I am, I’m afraid my body’s going to do something really stupid like sway forward. Or my lips are going to move without my approval, begging him to kiss me all over again. Disaster.

“Try to keep up, cowboy,” I call over my shoulder, as I turn and begin to run.

Like last night, I hear him behind me. Not the pounding of horse hooves but the reliable thud of his footsteps. It doesn’t matter how fast I go, he’s there, and it’s a special kind of incentive to keep up my pace.

I’ve been running for maybe a mile or so when his hand reaches out and catches my wrist, jerking me to a stop, so suddenly that I back right up into him.

“Wait,” he says, unnecessarily. His body is so warm and musky, so strong and broad.

I close my eyes and inhale, forgetting to be indignant, or even surprised, because the feeling of being here, pressed against him, is so incredibly intoxicating.

“Now, look,” he says, his voice husky. I blink at him, and realize he’s pointing at the ground.

Thank God. Maybe he didn’t notice my traitorous, tell-tale response.

“That there’s a rattlesnake trail,” he points to a nondescript squiggle on the path. He gestures to the longer grass besides us. “My guess is there’s a nest over there, in those rocks.”

“A nest,” I repeat.

“And at this time of day, they’ll be out, lookin’ for food. One’s probably just come through here.”

I shiver.

“Now, they’re probably not gonna kill you,” he says, like that makes me feel any better. “But they’ll hurt like the devil, and if you’re this far from the house, with no one knowing where you are, you could be in real trouble.”

Any hint of sass has been swallowed by the realization that he really is just trying to keep me safe.

That yesterday, when he accused me of not knowing squat about the predators out here, he was right.

I’m way out of my comfort zone and it’s dumb of me to presume that I’ll be fine, just because I want to be.

And here I was thinking I’d supercharged my survival skills since marrying Christopher.

“You just gotta learn what to look out for,” he says, stepping back and letting his grip on my hand go, so I shiver all over. At the prospect of what he’s saying, as well as the desolation at the distance he’s put between us.

“Okay.” I bite down on my lip. It’s not an apology but I hope he takes my contrition as acceptance, at the very least.

“Good.” He nods once. “Let’s keep moving, City Girl,” and he winks at me in a way that makes my whole body tremble. I run, just to escape that feeling—or at least, to hide it from him.

I didn’t intentionally go back to the abandoned house, but somehow, we end up here anyway. I glance up at him as we approach, and slow to a walk. He matches my pace, his stride long.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“You came here yesterday?”

I nod.

“You went inside?”

Another nod.

“Jesus, Beth. Do you have any idea what could be in there?”

I do now. After he showed me how to spot coyotes, bears, and about a million other predators. Frankly, I think I’m about done with ranch exploring now. The view from the office seems like a pretty good way to soak all this up.

Maybe he sees that on my face because he softens visibly.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll give it a rest.”

I glance up at him. “It’s okay,” I say. “You were right. I should have thought about what’s out here. I’m not used to any of this.”

“I should have prepared you better.”

“I’m not your responsibility,” I reiterate. “I should have known to ask.”

His jaw tightens and I can tell this is something he’s never going to give way on. He sees everyone as his responsibility—which much be completely exhausting.

“It was a guest house,” he says, turning his attention. “A few years back, a pine tree came down and cracked through the roof. We got as far as repairing the back wall, but that’s about it.”

“What a shame,” I say. “It’s so lovely inside.”

“You think?”

“Oh, God, yes. It’s so old and charming. I can just imagine it all set up.”

He grunts.

“Why not fix it now? You could rent it out.”

“To tourists? Who might go try becoming coyote bait?” he teases.

I roll my eyes. “I mean, why not? It’s a shame to have it sit empty.”

He makes a noise that I think could be agreement, but maybe he’s just trying to close down the conversation.

“It’d cost too much,” he says.

I consider that, imagining what the repair bill would be. Even if he and his family did a lot of the manual labor, there’s still materials to buy. But surely the ranch could support that?

“And we’re all too busy,” he adds. “It’s pretty low down on my list, to be honest.”

“But isn’t there a risk that in leaving it like this, it will gradually just fall further and further apart?”

His lips form a grim line and when he looks at me, there are emotions in his face I don’t understand. “Yeah, that’s a risk. You ready to get back?”

The sun has started to set, and the beauty of this landscape catches in my throat. I take a moment to enjoy it, to really soak it in, and then nod.

“You know, you’re pretty fit,” I say, starting to jog toward the house.

He keeps pace easily, not behind me this time, but right at my side, and I don’t mind one bit.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’ve always loved running,” I say, though I’ve told him that already. “I got out of the habit of it for a while.”

“Why?”

I open my mouth to say something, but how can I answer that? “Just lifestyle,” I say, finally. “I couldn’t make it work.”

“That’s a shame. You look damn fine doing it.”

I realize he regrets it as soon as he says it, by the way he turns away from me and his body goes taut, but I don’t care. I will take that compliment—that admission that he looks at me as a man looks at a woman—and keep it wrapped tight in my chest, to examine later.

At least, that’s my plan. But with every step I take, every footstep of mine that his matches, something sparks inside of me. Curiosity. Confusion. Anger. Disappointment.

He does like me. He is attracted to me. I’m damn sure of it. So why didn’t he kiss me back the other night? Why did he walk away from me?

I know I should let it drop. The last thing I want is a repeat of that particular experience.

And yet, there is something about Cole that emboldens me, that makes me feel like I can say anything I want to with him.

Even when I’m embarrassed afterwards, it still seems better to be honest and open with him than to box myself away like I did with Christopher.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” I say, as we reach the edges of the rose garden and begin to walk, side by side, up to the house. The kitchen light is on, and I wonder if it’s Beau or Austin inside, or maybe Mackenzie?

“The other night, why didn’t you kiss me back?”

Wow. I really just got that right out there. He looks as surprised as I feel, but he covers it quickly.

“Don’t do this.”

“What’s the matter, Cowboy? Are you afraid to talk to me?”

He puts a hand in his pocket and looks beyond me, to the mountains in the distance, brow furrowed. “You work for me, Beth.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“So, I don’t make a habit of going around kissing my staff.”

“I’m sure Caleb appreciates that,” I quip.

His lip quirks for the briefest second, but his body remains tense. “You need to drop it.”

“Then don’t say things like how good I look running,” I mutter.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Damn straight.”

“Look, haven’t you ever wanted something you knew you couldn’t have?”

I stare at him, letting the words sink in. “So…you’re saying you do want me?”

His eyes slip back to mine, but they’re glaring at me, like he’s frustrated as hell. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Come on. You’re as pretty as all get out. Any man with blood in his body would want you. But I reckon it’s been about a decade at least since I’ve just done whatever I feel like. This,” he points to me, then toward his own broad chest, “can’t happen.”

He’s right. This is a bad idea. A really stupid idea.

I’d put it down to the Chardonnay the other night, but it turns out, the way I felt was all wrapped up in me, and Cole, because even as we’re standing here, acknowledging the stupidity of this, my body is still tingling and aching with a need for him to wrap his arms around me and kiss me, good and proper.

“I’ll tell you what,” I say, tapping a finger to the side of my lips. “Kiss me, once, and I’ll let it drop.”

His eyes narrow at the challenge.

“Just once,” I promise. “Unless you’re scared that if you start you won’t be able to stop.”

He swears softly, dropping his head, staring at the ground.

“Cole?” I say, after several moments have passed.

He lifts his head, his eyes burning. “Don’t you get it?” he demands, as he steps forward, closing the distance, nostrils flaring, brow beaded with sweat. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

The last few words are lost in the meshing of our mouths, as he kisses me, finally, just like I’d begged him to.