Page 15 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)

A nsley ran the dishes into the house and then led Rye to the big, brown barn which Clyde had told her was easily one hundred years old, if not older.

It had room at one end for storing hay and alfalfa, and on the other side, room for livestock.

Her loft extended over the haybales rather than the livestock, which was good as the smell of manure on a hot day permeated the entire barn.

She turned on the light and climbed the ladder, waiting for Rye to follow. In the loft, Ansley shifted a few of the smaller stacked paintings, laying them flat out so he could see. “This size is really popular on Etsy. I price them so they’re affordable and relatively inexpensive to mail.

“They’re stretched canvases,” she added, as he picked up one, “and a thinner frame. When I first started, I painted on canvas board, but the boards would bend, and the paint would crack. Customers would be disappointed. So, these lightweight canvases are good for smaller projects.”

“I imagine the big canvases are expensive?”

“Yes, which is why I’d like to learn how to make them myself, but that’s a down-the-road project. Right now, I buy them in Bozeman at an art supply store.”

She watched as Rye continued to wander around her loft, examining everything, and spending considerable time looking at the painting on her easel, the one she’d worked on this morning of the Yellowstone River against the Absaroka Mountains.

“I like this,” he said, studying the painting closely, and then stepping back. “It’s wonderful. You can paint.”

Ansley blushed, touched by the praise. “I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

He glanced at her. “How long have you been doing this?”

“I took a couple art classes in high school, and then some at the local college in the evenings, but after a year, I realized school wasn’t going to help anymore. I just had to keep painting, and studying different techniques, and so I’ve kept at it.”

“Your parents must be proud.”

Ansley didn’t know how to answer. There wasn’t an easy answer. “Dad’s not a fan. Mom wants to be supportive. But they both think this is just a phase.”

“Until what?”

“I get married. Have kids.”

“Which you don’t want to do.”

“Not anytime soon, and even if I do marry one day, I’m not going to stop painting. This is who I am and what I love. It’s also how I pay my bills.”

He seemed surprised. “You can support yourself with your paintings?”

“I do support myself, and every month I earn a little more.” She gave him a challenging look.

“How do you think I supported myself? I’m not a trust-fund baby.

My parents don’t give me money. I am on my parents’ health insurance plan, but that’s only for one more year. When I turn twenty-six, that’s on me.”

“And you’ll be able to cover it?”

“Yes, and it might not be a lot, but I’m making money, and with me living here, I’ve been saving most of what I earn. Now when I have my own place, I’ll have to pay for rent and utilities, but I can swing it, especially living in Marietta. The cost of living is better here than in Last Stand.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that.”

“Last Stand is in the Texas Hill country, and it’s pricey. Lots of the little houses have been fixed up and turned into VRBOs.”

“And Paradise Valley is affordable?”

“I’m not looking to buy a ranch. I’d just rent a little house or apartment in town. I’ve been checking the ads and I’ll be able to swing it if I keep working.” She hesitated. “I know I’ve only been here a couple months, but I really like Marietta.”

“What makes it special?”

“Besides the fact that I met you here?” she teased, smiling at him.

“Well, it’s the perfect town, with a historical downtown and beautiful brick buildings and community spaces like the parks and the river walk.

And then there are so many trees, I love trees and we don’t have anything like this in Texas. ”

“Sounds like you’ve fallen under Montana’s spell.”

“I have, and not just Montana, but Marietta specifically. It has everything I need. Access to an airport, a charming main street, a thriving economy, with a steady influx of money from tourists. I can see myself opening my own gallery here one day.”

“Is that your plan?”

“Eventually.”

“You might want to get through a winter first. You’ve only been here during the best months.”

“I’ve heard, but it just makes me more excited to paint the valley during all the seasons. I’ve never painted snow before, and it’s going to be a challenge. The fall colors will be fun, but a frosty Paradise Valley? That’s going to be cool.”

“You mean cold.” He went to her, and pulled her against him, his lips grazing her cheek, the corner of her mouth and then low on her neck. “The snow and wind can be tough but seems like you’re up for the challenge.”

“I am.” She smiled into his eyes, feeling a little dizzy, a little dazed. She loved his arms around her, loved the tingle in her skin, particularly her neck, a tingle that made her shiver against him. “The weather here might be tough, but I’m tougher. Remember, I’m a Texan. We’re born strong.”

He kissed her then, the most lovely of kisses, so full of tenderness and hunger, heat and pleasure and she just melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck, pressing closer, savoring the hard muscular length of him.

He was strong, like she was, and it crossed her mind that she’d been waiting for him her entire life. She’d been waiting for this .

In the middle of the scorching kiss, her phone rang, vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. Rye’s hand covered the phone in her back pocket, his fingers warm on her butt. “You’ve got a call,” he said, against her mouth.

She laughed and drew back, but couldn’t let go of him completely, not when her head was spinning. “You do that too good.”

“As long as you like it.”

“Oh, I do.” She took another unsteady step back and drew the phone from her pocket. It was her mom. She sighed. “My mom. I’m going to need to call her right back,” she said, letting the call go to voice mail.

“I should go anyway. But I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“Me, too.” She moved in to press a kiss to his mouth. “Thank you for a wonderful dinner and even better conversation. You’re very good company.”

“I feel the same about you.”

She waited while he climbed down the ladder, and then she glanced around her loft, making sure everything was okay and then followed him down, and turned off the switch at the wall before securing the barn for the night.

Outside, the sky was very dark, a swath of purple black with faraway stars.

It looked as magical as she felt. Ansley’s throat ached, and she swallowed against the knot of emotion.

If only Rye lived closer. She hated to think that tomorrow after the rodeo he’d leave, and she didn’t know when she’d see him again.

“Thank you for driving here for dinner,” she said huskily.

He glanced at her, his gaze skimming her face. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“You say the nicest things.”

“You’re one of a kind, Ansley Campbell.”

She didn’t know what to say and wasn’t sure she could speak even if she had the words.

In just twenty-four hours he’d changed her world.

In just twenty-four hours he’d captured her heart, which wasn’t a simple thing.

She was independent, and ambitious. She had plans and a dream and love weren’t part of any of that.

“You know your way back?” she asked.

“I do.” He stepped forward and pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. “Good night, babe.”

Babe. No one had ever called her that, and she hadn’t thought she’d like it. But from him, it sounded perfect. “Good night, Rye. I’ll be there cheering you on tomorrow.”

She watched as he got into his truck. She waved goodbye as he pulled away, her heart having fallen somewhere between her knees and feet.

Once his taillights had vanished, she entered the old farmhouse and slowly locked the front door.

Her eyes burned and a whisper of fear pulsed through her veins.

Love had been the last thing on her mind and yet suddenly ruggedly handsome Rye Calhoun meant everything.

*

He’d made a mess of things.

Rye knew it from that smoldering kiss in the barn loft.

It was a different kiss than the night before.

It was a kiss with emotions, with intentions.

It was a kiss that told him things… like Ansley wanted him.

Not just in a physical, gratify-my-craving sort of way, but in the big-picture, real-world way, and it made him feel protective of her.

She was so open, so transparent. Her feelings were in her eyes, her face, her voice, her touch.

She liked him, and normally this wouldn’t be a problem, because he liked her.

But they weren’t in the same place, they had different pressures, she only had to worry about herself, while he still had his whole family looking to him to provide for them and make the right decisions for them.

Yet his admiration for her only grew. He respected her goals and dreams, respected her determination to be free…

autonomous. He respected her talent, and her drive.

She knew what she wanted, she knew what she wanted to be, and she knew where she wanted to live—but that vision left no room for him. Her future in no way resembled his.

He’d never live in Marietta. He could never afford to own something as extravagant as an art gallery. He’d never have the freedom to take the same risks.