Should’ve Been a Cowboy (Sons of Chance #4)(21)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

“That’s for damn sure.” Squaring up in the seat, he released the emergency and put the truck in gear. They drove the rest of the way in silence, and he used the time to plan how he’d get through the next few days without being able to touch her.

He’d known that once she left, he’d miss her like crazy, and he hadn’t been looking forward to that. But somehow this prospect seemed worse. He could see the logic of it, but in practice it would be sheer torture.

One thing he knew without a shadow of a doubt. If he heard the intro to ‘Annie’s Song’ tomorrow, he would get the hell out of there.

Chapter 12

TYLER WOKE EARLY to the sound of rain on the cedar roof. Climbing out of the four-poster, she tugged at the hem of her short nightgown and padded over to the pair of double-hung windows. Blue bandanna-print curtains that hung on either side of the windows were obviously for decorative purposes only.

How freeing to have so much property that privacy wasn’t an issue. Tyler peered out through the raindrops sliding down the glass. She assumed the Tetons were visible from the front bedrooms, but the back ones like hers looked out on pastureland that sloped gently down to a line of trees that appeared ghostly in the mist. She wondered if Archie Chance had cleared that pasture for his cattle back in the forties.

A few head grazed there this morning, but they were only rented cattle for the cutting-horse demonstrations Gabe and Jack had planned for the open house. She glanced at the small alarm clock sitting on an antique bedside table. She’d set the alarm for six-thirty, but it was only a little past six. She walked over, shut off the alarm and crawled back under sheets that had been hand-embroidered and a quilt that also looked handmade.

She thought about Alex across the hall and wondered if he’d slept. Probably. Men seemed to be able to sleep no matter what anxieties plagued them. She’d slept, too, but not straight through.

She’d woken up several times, and each time she’d fought the urge to go across the hall and climb into bed with Alex. Keeping her hands off him would be a challenge, but she’d do it.

Part of her restlessness had to do with Alex, but part of it had to do with a bed that didn’t rock. Most of her nights were spent on the move as the Sea Goddess sailed from port to port. She’d always told herself that she liked that gentle movement and that it lulled her to sleep at night.

And she did like it, but…there was something really nice about a big log home set firmly on a foundation. The view out her window wasn’t the vast ocean, but from the second story she had a wide vista, and in some ways it was more interesting than the unbroken horizon of the open sea.

Lying snuggled under covers that carried the scent of lavender and cedar, she allowed herself to admit things that would have been unthinkable a few weeks ago, maybe even a few days ago. She was beginning to question how much longer she wanted to be in the cruise business, how much longer she was willing to live in a tiny efficiency apartment in the middle of L.A.

Thanks to Morgan, she was seeing what a real home might feel like. Even sleeping in this bed, which quite possibly belonged to the couple who’d built this ranch, had contributed to her sense of a solid, enduring legacy. Of ownership. She didn’t own anything but a few sticks of basic furniture and her clothes. Suddenly that seemed uncomfortably rootless.

Thoughts of Alex were tied in there somewhere, too, but she’d be a fool to imagine settling down with him. In the first place, he hadn’t asked her to. In the second place, she’d need a way to earn a living, and the Last Chance didn’t require the services of a cruise director.

Although she had savings that would carry her a little while if she left the cruise company, she’d have to find a new job. She’d made up her mind at an early age that she’d always have a job and never be dependent on someone else the way her mother was. Her father had earned whatever money they had and her mother had spent all her time economizing and taking care of children, which weren’t highly marketable skills.

Tyler had marketable skills, but she wasn’t sure if or how they’d translate from sea to land. Maybe they would and maybe they wouldn’t. She’d definitely have to start over with whatever career she dreamed up for herself. In the meantime, she had a good chance at a wonderful promotion that would give her a nice salary increase. She couldn’t afford to turn her back on that. Could she?

The aroma of coffee brewing and bacon frying brought her back to the present. A quick glance at the clock told her she needed to leave this cozy bed and start her day. She’d promised to help put on this party, and she was a person who delivered on her promises. She had arrangements to supervise and a quick practice session to schedule with Watkins, the guitar-playing ranch hand.

Pulling on the same terry robe Sarah had loaned her the night before, she gathered up her toiletries and opened her bedroom door. Whoops. She had either bad timing or good timing, depending on how she wanted to look at it.

Or how she wanted to look at him. Alex stood in the bathroom doorway, his hair damp, his jaw freshly shaven, and his gaze resting firmly on her. He wore only a towel.

He’d wrapped it casually around his hips, and it was all she could do not to step forward, slip a finger between towel and damp male skin, and pull. From the way his gray eyes smoldered and the towel twitched, she had a good idea what would happen after that.

His broad chest, lightly covered with dark blond hair, lifted as he took a deep breath. “Good morning.” His sexy DJ’s voice reached out to her, tempting her to move closer.

With great effort, she stayed where she was. But even from here she could smell soap, shaving cream and his citrusy aftershave. The longer they stood there staring at each other, the more those man-made scents mingled with the heady fragrance of good old-fashioned desire, both his and hers. Just like in “Annie’s Song,” he filled up her senses.

She swallowed. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Sleep well?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine.” His hot glance traveled slowly down her body to her toes, before making a leisurely journey back up to her face again.

Her body warmed and moistened as if he’d caressed every inch of her and paid special attention to all the secret places that longed for his touch. Her breathing grew shallow. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Why? You just did it to me.”

“I did not!” But she flushed, knowing that she probably had done exactly that, starting with his shaven jaw, moving to his bare chest, and sliding down his taut stomach to the knotted towel. She’d imagined that he was aroused beneath it. Her once-over had been as sexual as his.

“Okay, maybe I did,” she admitted. “But you caught me by surprise.”

“You forgot we were sharing a bathroom?”

“No, not really. I just didn’t expect to come out of my room and find you standing there…practically nak*d.”

“Do you want to establish rules for hallway attire?”

“No.”

“I’m glad to hear it, because I put on the towel in deference to you. When I’m up here by myself I don’t even bother.”

“I see.” She wanted him so much she was starting to shake. She clenched her hands around the toiletries bag.

“In fact, if we’d continued the way we’d planned yesterday, I wouldn’t be wearing a towel even if you were here. But then, you wouldn’t be wearing a bathrobe, plus whatever nightgown you have on.”

“How do you know I’m wearing a nightgown?”

“I looked you over very carefully a moment ago, and there’s a piece of lace sticking out where your robe isn’t closed all the way.”

“Oh.” She clutched the lapels of her robe in one hand, not sure whether she wanted to hold it together or rip it open. Actually, she did know what she wanted, but she’d made a decision and she would abide by it.

“I wondered if you slept nak*d. We’ve never actually been in the same bed together, so I was curious about that.”

She was curious about how he slept, too, but she wasn’t going to ask. Besides, she already suspected what the answer would be. The thought of him lying nak*d in a king-size bed fanned the flames that licked at her body, tightened her n**ples and dampened the bikini panties that went with her short nightgown.

“The bathroom’s all yours.” He stepped out of the doorway and started down the hall.

She’d taken two steps forward when he turned, and she froze in place, not sure what he might do, not sure what her response would be. She wanted to be strong, but if he came back and pulled her into his arms…

“I’ll share a tip with you,” he said, “because I have to say, you look as if you’re feeling as horny as I am.”

“You’re wrong. I’m—”

“Be that as it may, the shower’s a great place to work off some of your frustration. You might even want to detach the showerhead. It has several settings.”

She longed for a snappy comeback, but her brain had been pickled by a flood of hormones. She managed a choked “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy.” He continued to his room and walked inside. He didn’t bother closing the door.

And why should he? They’d agreed not to have sex anymore, so closed doors shouldn’t be necessary any more than she should have to bunk down with her sister, Morgan, to avoid climbing into bed with Alex again. They were adults who should be able to control themselves.

And she was hanging on by a thread. Once she was in the bathroom with the door closed, she thought about his suggestion. If he hadn’t been standing in the hall wearing only a towel, she might not be in this condition. Even then, if he hadn’t given her that look, she might still have been okay. All the talk about what she wore or didn’t wear to bed had been the final straw.

Stripping down, she turned on the shower, stepped inside and unhooked the showerhead. Sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

ALEX WONDERED why he tortured himself, and decided he did it because she was torturing herself, too. He’d been doing his best to maintain control. He’d thought of her all through the long night, but he’d stayed in his room. This morning, while passing her door, he’d resisted the strong compulsion to go climb in bed with her.

But, oh, how he’d wanted to. Instead he’d taken a right turn into the bathroom where he’d sought release under the shower spray. Some time later, shaved, showered and mellow, he’d exited the bathroom feeling proud for staying away from her. Then she’d come out of her bedroom and looked at him as if she wanted to eat him up.

She’d even had the nerve to protest when he returned the favor. Irritated by how quickly she got under his skin, he’d delivered that stupid parting shot about the showerhead. But the last laugh was on him. The image of her taking his suggestion was burned into his brain, and his c*ck was so hard he couldn’t fasten the fly of his jeans.

Damn it, he was not having solo sex again. He was stronger than that. He would distract himself…somehow. Pulling off his boots and stripping off his jeans, he paced the length of his bedroom while counting backward from a hundred. When that didn’t work, he did it by threes.