Page 22 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

“I slept in,” she laughs. “I hadn’t had a proper bed to lie in for a while.

I woke up to the smell of bacon and biscuits, fresh squeezed juice, too.

He really laid it on thick,” she says, shaking her head.

“After I’d eaten—so much food—he asked if I could stick around another day or so.

Help him mend some fences. By then, I’d met this lot,” she nods at the table, generally, “so I was pretty sure he wasn’t an axe murderer. ”

“And so, you’ve stayed since then?”

“Yeah. Turns out, I liked working on the ranch. I liked being busy, using my hands. I like these guys, you know? They say what they think. And most of the time, what they think is pretty simple. There’s no second guessing myself.

If I mess up, they tell me, but they’re never cross.

I’m safe here,” she says, and it’s such a perfect echo of how I’ve been feeling, almost since the moment I arrived, that tears claw at the back of my throat.

“Yeah, I think this place has that effect on people.”

“The place, the people. It’s home.” She looks around the bar, and I see it in her face: contentment. She’s wary—Cole’s right—but when she lets you in, she lets her guard down. Like she’s doing with me now.

“You must miss him.”

She glances at me and nods, but her eyes quickly flit to Cole’s, across the table, then lowers her voices. “It’s worst of all for Cole, you know.”

I can’t help it. I look toward him, and this time, when our eyes meet, I just know we both feel the same electrical charge. My heart jams against my ribs. I quickly turn back to Mackenzie but the echo of that shared glance warms me right through.

“Why?”

But Mackenzie is standing up. “You’d have to ask him that. Wanna dance?”

I look at the writhing mass of bodies, all forming a line.

“Ah, I’ll sit this one out, thanks.”

“You sure? I can show you.”

“You go ahead. I’ll watch.”

“She likes you,” Cole says, when it’s just the two of us, at the table. Everyone else has gotten out on the floor. I watch as Beau uses his hip to nudge Mackenzie and she laughs, then pushes him right back.

“Mackenzie?”

He nods. “Doesn’t make the time to talk to everyone, you know.”

“I was surprised,” I admit. “But pleased. She’s sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s a good kid.”

“You know, she warned me off you,” I say, then regret it, like I’ve broken a confidence.

But his eyes zing to mine and my stomach swirls. “Serious?” His lips quirk in a grin. “She thinks she has to look out for me.”

“Does she have to look out for you?”

“Do I look like I need looking out for?”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

He huffs out a sigh. “I think I can handle you, Beth.”

I sip my drink, then realize it’s empty.

“Allow me,” he says, standing, but I shake my head.

“It’s okay, it’s my turn.”

“Nah, that doesn’t seem right.”

“Cole, please. I can buy a round of drinks.”

He seems ambivalent but I leave the table before he can say another word. It’s only when I reach the bar, I realize I haven’t asked what he wants. For that matter, I haven’t paid attention to what anyone else is drinking.

“Hey,” I say, when the bartender approaches. “I don’t suppose you know what that table over there had?”

He looks over his shoulder and grins. “Sure do. Another round?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I say. As he sets about opening bottles and pouring drinks, I glance down at the bar.

It’s glass topped and beneath the glass there are dozens of photographs, some faded, some newer looking.

One shows a little boy sitting on top of the bar, and I can tell it’s this guy who’s serving me drinks.

The photo beside it makes me pause. “Who’s this?” I ask, tapping the picture, because it’s so familiar to me.

“That there’s Cole Donovan. Junior’s dad.”

“Junior?” I almost choke.

The bartender grins. “Don’t let him hear you call him that, though. No one’s been game since he was about six.”

“Good to know.”

“You’re working out there?”

I nod. “Just temporarily. I’m taking over for Reagan.”

“She had another kid, that’s right.”

He rings up the drinks and I tap my credit card to pay for them.

“You good with those?” he asks, eyeing the tray full of drinks skeptically.

“I’ve got it,” I say. But before I can so much as lift the tray, Beau’s there, taking it with a wink and a ‘thanks, ma’am’.

“Watch that one,” the bartender warns me of Beau.

“Oh, I will, don’t worry.”

Cole

It’s late and the crowd’s thinned out. Usually, I’d have left by now, too—I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow, to check the herd, before we move them.

The rest of the guys have headed back to Coyote Creek, but for some reason, Beth and I are still here, sharing a bowl of nachos, watching the last of the dancers shuffle around the floor.

Across the room, the mic is deserted, after a vigorous work out during karaoke.

It won’t be long before Randy wants to close up.

“This place is great,” she says on a sigh. “I really like it.”

“I bet it’s different to where you usually spend time.”

“You could say that.”

I wonder about her life in New York for about the millionth time. What her husband was like, what their life was like. What she liked to do back home. If she’s missing it. I know for sure she must be missing him. Losing your husband’s not the sort of thing you just get over.

“Beth—,” Maybe she knows I’m going to say something about her grief. To try to get her to open up a bit, to understand that if she wants to talk, I’m here.

Because she cuts me off, before I can finish the sentence. “Do you wanna dance, Cowboy?”

I’m so surprised you could knock me over with a feather.

“I mean, that line dancing looked hard, but I think I can manage this.” She gestures to the dance floor, where people are shuffling around in pairs to a slow, country song.

The problem is, I don’t know if I can manage this. Dancing with Beth feels like playing with fire…and yet, a gentleman doesn’t say no to a lady. At least, this gentleman doesn’t. I stand up and hold out my hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheeks flush pink as she places hers in mine and I lead her away from the table. In the middle of the remaining people, we stop, and she hesitates a moment before lifting her hands and clasping them together, behind my neck. “Is this okay?”

She’s asking because she knows that I’m like a lit fuse. But I nod, anyway, and put my hands lightly on her hips.

“Mackenzie was telling me about her childhood,” she says, frowning a little.

I’d heard enough snippets to know that’s what they were discussing.

“I don’t know the details,” I say. “She doesn’t really tell us what it was like before she ran away. Or what it was like on the streets. But sometimes, when she’s feeling sweet, she tells us that we saved her life. I reckon it was pretty bad for her.”

Beth’s eyes lift to mine. “She told me she feels safe here.”

“That’s what my dad would have wanted.”

“He had a soft spot for her, huh?”

“He had a soft spot for strays, generally. But even then, Mack was special. Sometimes I think it’s because she reminded him of mom.”

“Are they alike?”

“Not like I remember my mom,” I say, quickly. “She was all lady, by the time we came along. But she was a runaway, too. Dad found her hiding out in the barn. Started feeding her, earning her trust, got her moved into the main house. She was fifteen—same age as Mack when she ran away.”

“Oh, wow. That’s so romantic.”

“I guess so.”

“So, your dad made your mom feel safe, too.”

“I guess he did, yeah.”

“Why did she run away?”

“Mom?”

She nods.

“Her mom remarried some guy who wasn’t very nice to her. That’s all I know. She decided anything would be better than that, so she got out.”

Beth stops dancing for a second, her features shifting to an expression I don’t recognize. I stare down at her. She’s so beautiful, but so enigmatic. Half the time, I’ve got no idea what she’s thinking, and I reckon that’s the way she wants it.

“That was very brave of her.”

“I don’t know if she felt she had much choice.”

Her lips tug sideways and my gut rolls. My own lips tingle with a physical ache to kiss her.

“Still, it takes courage…”

“I guess.”

And damn it, if my hand doesn’t find its way from her hip to her cheek, to rest there a second, before my thumb steals across her lower lip, slowly, smudging it like I want to with my tongue.

She shivers a little, and closes her eyes.

“Cole,” she murmurs, blinking up at me. “The other night?—,”

I bring my hand back to her hip, but then, clasp them behind her back, drawing her closer to me.

“Shouldn’t have happened. It’s okay.” Nor should this dance, I remind myself. Everything we’re doing is wrong.

“No, I was going to say?—,”

“Beth, I know. Your husband died, and you miss him like hell. I know a thing or two about that. You’re sad and confused and there’s no way on earth I’m going to be the guy who takes advantage of you right now.

I’m not denying I want to,” I mutter. “Or that thoughts of it don’t keep me up at night.

But it’s not right—it ain’t gonna happen.

You putting a stop to it—it was good. The best thing you could have done. ”

She shakes her head, frustration in her features.

“Will you let me talk?”

“Okay, y’all! Get going, we’re closin’ up.” Randy’s voice is loud across the bar, and the lights flicker on in a disconcerting display of fluorescence. I’ve never seen it like this, because I’ve never been here at closing time.

Beth drops her hands, looking up at me with that same expression of frustration, but I’m glad for the interruption, because the whole playing with fire thing was starting to get seriously out of hand. Again.

We head back to the table where she grabs her handbag. I catch a glimpse of her profile; she’s lost in thought.

Feeling like I’ve bungled something, and I don’t really know what, when we get to the car, I hold the door open for her.

“If you ever want to talk about it, about him, I’m here,” I say. It’s something I heard a lot after dad died, though I never took anyone up on it.

“Talking about Christopher is the last thing I want to do, believe me,” she says, with a shiver. “Especially with you.”