Page 14 of Rogue Cowboy (Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys #3)
He followed, his determination to cement their marriage burned bright.
He’d initially felt he didn’t have much to offer her.
A serious man, often self-isolating, needing to forge a new career.
He hadn’t thought she’d need him but had hoped—rather stupidly—that she’d want him, that he hadn’t imagined the connection of that first weekend and what felt like intimacy—friendship—in their subsequent texts.
But he was no expert on relationships, and he feared he’d misread Riley.
He’d seesawed back and forth the whole drive north—let her go—find a way to keep her, but after today, he knew he wouldn’t drive home solo.
Riley hadn’t followed her dreams. She wasn’t thriving. She was existing, and though he was probably the last man who should consider stepping up to act as a guide as she faced her past and her fears and her feelings, he was what she had.
Leveled the playing field. He was no prize. But he was loyal. Strong. Determined. And hers if she wanted.
Riley sighed heavily, but she didn’t take her gaze from the dark sky.
Her sunflower-colored blouse with the embroidered daisies on it was soft, the fabric moving in the evening breeze and with each step she took.
And the low cut of the blouse that had little tassels toggling it shut was hella distracting.
Was she wearing a bra? He knew he shouldn’t be speculating about that now—plenty of time later when she got to know him and trust him.
But she was no longer a teen on the cusp of becoming a woman.
She was his wife. Legally. And a long way from where they’d need to be.
“I still love looking at the stars,” she said.
“The last few years, I’ve gone out to the barn to sit on the top bar of the outdoor arena and just stare at the sky.
I downloaded the app so I’d know what I was looking at, and sometimes when we’d text I wondered if you were able to carve out a moment to look at the sky and how different it must be.
It still seems strange that what we see is impacted by the seasons and location.
” She smiled, self-deprecatingly. “Science.”
“I downloaded the star gazing app you mentioned to me,” he admitted. “I’d look at what I was seeing when I could, but also what you were seeing in Montana.”
Her shy gaze skimmed his face, and she looked away.
He fought the urge to hold her hand. Was he a man who held a woman’s hand?
He never had before. Maybe during his high school prom, which his maw-maw had insisted was a rite of passage, and they’d told him to invite a friend’s granddaughter from Whiskey River who had been a social pariah for reasons not her fault.
It had been the most awkward night of his life, but the girl—Jeannie Dillon—had longed to go to a dance.
So he’d asked, and she’d said yes and while dinner had been a silent affair, she had wanted to dance every dance, which had made the rest of the night easier.
As they walked, he continuously scanned the street, noting the families.
The couples. The groups of cowboys—heading to the bar probably.
Many shops were still lit up, and a crew was setting up for something over at the large downtown park that was dominated by a very official-looking lit-up courthouse.
“This town sure gets decked out for the rodeo,” he noted.
He’d seen the Graff Hotel as they’d walked to dinner. He’d commissioned a special necklace for Riley from an artist who showed their work in a boutique there, but now wouldn’t be a good time to pick it up. He wanted to surprise her, but wanted to pick his moment carefully.
“Last Stand’s Rodeo is Fourth of July weekend. It’s a big deal too,” he said, to keep the conversation going, hoping he’d learn enough about her to follow the breadcrumbs to her heart. But that meant he too had to open up.
He pushed aside his dismay and soldiered on. “This year my paw-paw had some crazy scheme for my cousins, but he needed a knee replacement—two actually—so the disaster in the making is delayed until next rodeo.”
Would he and Riley be there helping and laughing at seeing his cousins manipulated into some foolish plan of paw-paw’s to stave off the inevitable trends of the future?
“What kind of a scheme?”
Ah shoot. He should have kept his mouth shut, but maybe if she knew him… He scratched his thumb along his jawline, feeling dumb.
“He’s a retired orthopedic surgeon and on the board of directors for the local hospital.
” No need to tell her his family name was the name of the hospital and that the orthopedic wing was named after his paw-paw whose father had been an orthopedic surgeon before him when the hospital had been little more than a clinic with one building and a few trailers and some Quonset huts that looked more like airplane hangars.
“It’s a great little historic town with a rich history—good place to raise a family.
” Yeah he added that in. “It’s nestled in the Hill Country between two big cities—San Antonio and Austin—so it’s hard to get young physicians to settle in Last Stand.
They want the bright lights and bigger money an urban hospital will offer. ”
“What’s your paw-paw’s plan?”
Her eyes shone bright with curiosity. “Don’t tell me he’s going to try his hand at matchmaking?”
Her smile charmed him, and her laugh made his evening.
“Pretty much,” he admitted, getting into his story himself.
“He and my maw-maw Marie are going to make up these challenges, sort of like a bingo card, and then at the pre rodeo parade and festivities, they are going to have a bachelor auction and the town matches some of my cousins and a few other single cowboys with the new single docs who arrive to work a three- or six-month stint and let the games begin.”
He wondered if it sounded as horrifyingly dumb to Riley as it did to him. She pressed her lush lips together, likely hiding a laugh, and her eyes shone like polished gems, making Cole happy he was sharing the stupid plan.
“I didn’t picture you as a coward, Cole.” She laughed. “Running to me for cover when you could be doing a good deed.”
“I’m not a bachelor,” he said.
“Only technically.”
“I’m not single here.” He touched his chest.
Her eyes widened, and she tripped a little. “Cole,” she whispered. “You have to stop.”
Then she turned on her heel and walked away.
Her cute ankle boots, a buttery caramel, clicked down the sidewalk of the historic town’s blocks.
Cole could have caught up. Though her stride was long, fast and determined, she was shorter than he was, and he liked this view.
Riley was small, very slim, and beautifully made.
The way she moved was sexy and compelling, though he knew she wasn’t trying to attract him.
He expected her to cut right past the courthouse and over the footbridge, but instead she turned left and started around the building.
The riverwalk through the park.
Another dip in the river to cool off? It was pretty chilly, and he began to shrug out of his Carhartt farm coat.
Cole cut around the stately courthouse and crossed the lush green lawn, clearly irrigated over the summer—tax dollars at work. He dodged around the crews stringing lights through the trees and setting up a stage and headed down toward the path, pulling up short when he saw her.
Riley had already kicked off her boots and peeled off her socks, which she tucked into the boots.
Then she rolled up her jeans and waded into the river, stretching her arms up to the sky and arching her back so that her beautiful platinum waves fell to the small of her back, shining like silver in the starlight.
He held still, not wanting to break the moment. Then he saw the tears, glittering, tracking down her cheeks.
Cole took off his own boots and socks and rolled up his own jeans and waded in.
He didn’t ask permission. He just wrapped his arms around her, and after wanting to hold her for so many years, protect her, cherish her, it felt more like home than he’d ever imagined.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I can’t be a wife.”
His heart clenched at the ache in her voice. “What is it you think a wife is?”
“I… This is going to sound dumb and old-fashioned. But I wanted to be a virgin when I got married.”
Cole nearly choked on his spit, but she had been young when he’d met her. A conservative, small-town, church-going ranch girl, and then she’d gotten stuck.
“And now I’m not, and I can’t…be with anyone ever…again.”
“Ahhh, baby.” He tightened his hold just a little and dragged in a deep breath.
Went with his gut. “You were never with anyone, not intimately, not ever. What happened to you was an assault. It was a power play meant to hurt, humiliate, demean. They wanted to feel strong because they aren’t.
They wanted to steal your power and your shine. ”
Don’t let them.
He wanted to scream it out to the sky, to God, who hadn’t answered his prayers when he’d been a kid, or when he’d been in a firefight somewhere and one of his team members had been hit, and he couldn’t stop the bleeding no matter how many pressure bandages he’d slapped on.
He kissed the top of her head, her hair like silk against his mouth. His lips lingered, and he held his breath, wondering how she’d respond. He didn’t want to scare her, but he needed her to reframe touch. Intimacy.
“It wasn’t sex,” he whispered, drawing the word out. “It wasn’t intimacy, and it was on the other side of the planet from love.”
She jerked in his arms and then settled as he brushed his lips against her temple, her cheek, and then he rested his chin on the top of her head, wanting her to feel safe. Cherished. Desired without expectations.
“It wasn’t a choice you made. You did nothing wrong.”