Page 22 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)

A nsley painted every free moment, staying up late in the loft on Thursday, but the cold snap made it too cold to paint in the barn.

She dragged everything down from the loft and turned an unused bedroom, the one that used to be her aunt Sandy’s sewing room, into a studio.

The room faced the north and didn’t have the good light of the loft, but it was a lot warmer, and her paint dried faster, and she was able to keep a closer eye on her uncle and respond more quickly to his needs.

But as she worked through the weekend, her thoughts frequently, constantly, turned to Rye and the Pendleton Rodeo. How was he doing? Had it been a good Saturday? Would he be competing Sunday?

Saturday night she finally reached out, texting him to ask how he’d done. Are you competing tomorrow?

He took just a few minutes to text back. Yes. It’s not my best weekend, but not by worst, either.

Good , she answered. I know how you like to cover your gas money.

You’re ruthless , he texted.

No more ruthless than you , she replied.

Touche.

She hearted his message and then chewed her lip, uncertain what to say now.

When they were together in person it had felt right.

When she’d been with him, she’d felt complete.

No one had ever made her feel that way, and she couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else now that she’d met Rye.

He was by no means perfect. He wasn’t the gentlest of men.

He wasn’t the funniest or the most laid-back, and yet he was right for her…

he just fit. Her and her heart. He was familiar in the best sort of way, as if something deep inside of her recognized him, recognizing who he was and his importance in the world. As well as his importance in her world.

She hesitated then quickly texted, I miss you.

He replied, It will get easier with time. You’ll meet someone else.

Ansley ground her teeth together. But I don’t want to meet someone else. I don’t actually want to meet anyone. I didn’t want to meet you. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or relationship but then I did meet you and… it changed everything.

He didn’t answer.

Ansley held her breath, heart beating unsteadily. I want to see you.

He took a long time to text in reply. We already talked about that.

Furiously she typed back. I don’t think I really agreed with you. I think you decided that we wouldn’t see each other and I just went along with it.

Every time we see each other it will just make it harder to say goodbye , he texted.

She glared at her phone, answering, Then we don’t have to say goodbye, right? We can just say see you soon or see you later. Why does it have to be so final?

Ansley. It was just the one word, and it spoke volumes. He was frustrated with her.

Well, fine. She was frustrated with him. Rye.

He didn’t answer her text. Seconds passed. Seconds turned to minutes. Ansley clutched her phone, wanting him to reply. She wanted to understand this.

And then her phone rang, and it was him. She answered quickly. “Oh, hello, Rye.”

She felt his smile over the phone, it was a reluctant smile, but he wasn’t angry. “Why are you so stubborn?” he asked.

“Do you want a serious answer, or a smart-ass answer?”

“I’d prefer the serious answer.”

“Great. So here it is. You’re special, and I’m not going to let you disappear into the universe as if you don’t matter.”

“We’ve only just met.”

“I can’t speak for you, but I know me, and no one has ever turned my world inside out in such a short period of time.

I don’t fall for guys easily. I’m not a romantic.

I don’t love love. I love—” She broke off, holding the last word in.

But it hung there between them, teasing, tempting, full of aching nuance and meaning. You.

“I’ll be better about calling,” Rye said gruffly.

“That would be nice.”

And this time the silence was warm, almost comforting, the silence of understanding and it gave her much needed peace.

She loved him. How it had happened, how a weekend could become love, she didn’t know but at the same time she didn’t question it.

“I don’t want to keep you up. You’ve a big day tomorrow. But I’ll be cheering you on from afar.”

“Thanks, babe.”

Babe. He’d said that to her the day he was leaving, and he just said it again, and her heart turned over. She wanted him and wanted to be his.

Hanging up, Ansley leaned against the brass bedframe.

She was glad she’d texted, and glad he’d called her.

She felt… better. Not necessarily calmer, but better.

She was being true to herself and standing for what she could.

She’d put herself out there. Only time would tell if he would stay in touch.

*

Rye rode better than he expected on Sunday, once again taking first in steer wrestling, second in saddle bronc, and fourth in bareback, which meant he was returning to Eureka with good money.

If only he’d enjoyed the weekend more. He hadn’t attended any of the social events as he had in Marietta with Ansley.

He’d kept to himself except for the cowboy autograph session at the local feed store, and then stayed after for a half an hour visiting with some of the local sponsors.

Rye understood the importance of creating goodwill on the circuit, and he always made sure to thank the sponsors, because without them there wouldn’t be the prize money and he wouldn’t have the career.

He would have had a good time if Ansley had been there.

He would have felt like a million dollars sitting across from her at dinner or walking with her through the fairgrounds.

She brought light into his world, light and warmth and a sense of possibility, as if she was like Tinker Bell and could wave a magic wand and cover everything with pixie dust.

His life could use some pixie dust.

He could use Ansley’s sunshine and magic.

He talked to her during the drive back to Eureka. They spoke for over an hour and would have kept talking but he’d hit a section of a mountain pass and lost her. He’d warned her that he might lose her, and if that happened, he’d just talk to her tomorrow.

He half hoped she’d try to call him back, but she didn’t, and he refrained from calling her because he couldn’t appear needy. Needy wasn’t a good look and yet she made him feel needs he didn’t know how to handle—not just physical needs, but emotional ones.

He did need connection.

He was alone far too much.

He didn’t share his worries as he tried to protect others.

Just talking to her made him feel better, closer, even though they hadn’t talked about anything particularly deep.

It was the kind of call where you talked about nothing and everything, where you talked just to hear the other person’s voice, and then wait for the laugh.

Ansley had an amazing laugh, too—sexy, warm, generous.

Hearing her voice made him ache for her.

Her laugh made him crave her mouth and softness.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to taste her and draw her close, wrapping his arms around her delicious, addictive warmth.

Rye reached home just at midnight. After taking care of the horses and unhooking his rig, he showered in his trailer and collapsed into bed. As he closed his eyes, his phone vibrated and he glanced at it. Ansley.

Tell me you’re home , she said.

Ansley’s text made him smile. I’m home , he answered.

Good. I couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe.

You’re a hard woman to resist.

The three little dots danced as she typed her response. I don’t know about that. You’ve done a pretty good job of resisting me so far.

That’s because you’ve done a good job of wearing my resistance down, he answered quickly.

She sent him a laughing emoji. Good , she added. Life is too short not to enjoy it. She hesitated and then typed, I want to see you. I want to meet you somewhere.

You keep asking for trouble.

I guess you like trouble , she wrote.

For a long moment there was no reply, and then he replied, I like you.

*

Ansley held her phone to her chest, holding Rye’s words close to her heart.

They had to find a way to make this work, and they would. Once all my pieces are ready for the exhibit, I’m going to find a way to see you , she told him.

Ansley held her breath as she waited for his answer, and then it came. Maybe we can meet in the middle , he answered.

She smiled. Perfect.

The next week passed far more quickly for Ansley now that she and Rye were talking.

She felt more optimistic, which lifted her spirits and helped her concentration while painting, allowing her to work longer.

Every night she and Rye talked for ten or fifteen minutes before bed, and in the morning, he usually texted her a good morning when he was on his way to work.

He’d be leaving for the rodeo in Idaho Falls after work.

It would be another seven-and-a-half-hour drive for him.

She knew, because she’d mapped it, and he’d be driving I-15 south, straight through Butte, which was only an hour and thirty-five minutes from Marietta.

Two hours from the Campbell ranch. She didn’t think it’d be a good idea to try to see him on the way down, but maybe on the return drive Sunday?

They could meet for dinner in Butte and he could continue home, and she’d return to Paradise Valley.

She hadn’t told him her idea yet, but she would when they talked tonight, when he was on the road heading to Idaho.

All day, she felt butterflies, and that electric nervous energy of wanting something so bad she could taste it.

She was dying to see Rye. It had been almost two weeks since they’d said goodbye, and on Sunday it would be two weeks exactly.

She hoped he’d be receptive to her idea.

It didn’t even have to be a long dinner.

An hour would be perfect. Please, please let him say yes.

But that night Rye didn’t call her. There was no checking in from the road.