Cowboy Up (Coming Home #3)

“Hey,” I grunt with a harshness that even makes Dell pause slightly before continuing his lazy trot toward the stable.

“I wouldn’t have looked for you either,” she continues as if I hadn’t spoken, unaware of the intense emotion she’s igniting in me.

“Why’s that?” I ask thickly.

“Because while I might think I’m not the kind of woman you want, I know I’m not the woman you need.”

This girl. She can’t be serious. Even if I didn’t know deep in my bones she’s worth the effort of trying to figure out her riddles, I’d still keep trying to get the answers if it meant I get to keep feeling like something I’ve been missing for a long damn time was just found.

“Oh, Linney, it’s gonna be fun provin’ you wrong.” Her body jolts in my arms and I smile. “First things first, how about you tighten those sweet legs of yours around my body and hold on while I get us down from Dell. Then, if you don’t have anywhere else you need me to take you, you let me start showin’ you who I am now and not who you think I might be?”

“ ‘Linney’?” she questions, one brow arched.

“Really, darlin’, that’s all you heard?”

“My name is Caroline.”

“I know your name, Caroline Lynn Michaels.”

Her eyes widen and she clears her throat. “Well, then you know Linney isn’t it.”

“I know you’re sweet as pie when you’re all heated. Anyway, I can get you that way. That woman isn’t prim and proper Caroline. That woman is wild-as-hell Linney.”

“I’m not sleepin’ with you,” she sputters after I get us down and hand Dell off to one of the stableboys, not an easy feat, but she hardly weighs anything, as tiny as she is. Her face gets red the second she realizes we aren’t alone anymore and, with a squeak, drops her head back to my shoulder.

“Jorge doesn’t speak English, sweetness, but even if he did, he’s paid to work, not to worry about what kind of sleepin’ is goin’ on between his boss and the beautiful woman wrapped tightly around him.” I mean to put her out of her misery, but I can’t help but tease her a little. It’s way too satisfying to see her embarrassment painting her cheeks.

She mumbles something against my skin, her position muffling her words so badly I can’t understand her. Her legs loosen around me next, and I regretfully release my hold and help her stand. I look down at the top of her head, noticing for the first time just how tiny she is now that she isn’t wearing boots. Not just her height, but her build too. Without her boots, I’m guessing she’s got to be close to a foot shorter than my six foot three. Every delicate inch of her makes me want to do nothing but wrap my arms around her, protect and worship her until she makes me stop.

Not once in my life have I felt this way about a woman who wasn’t my sister or Leigh. My family. If I feel this strong of a pull to Caroline without really knowing a thing about her besides us being compatible, I imagine it could swallow me whole when I finally do get to know her.

“Dinner, Caroline. Let me cook us some dinner tonight and we can get to know each other a little better. Then maybe you’ll listen to why I wouldn’t have gone lookin’ for you and you can fill me in on why you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’m not sleepin’ with you,” she repeats.

“Didn’t invite you to,” I joke, bending down to her eye level when she gasps. “But when I finally do get the privilege to have you again, there ain’t gonna be any sleepin’ then either, sweetness.”

I press a swift kiss to her shocked lips before taking her hand and guiding her toward my house. The same house that makes me feel like I’m drowning in my solitude is looking a lot better now that I’m picturing her inside it with me.

- -

I flip one of the two steaks on the cutting board and rub my own mixture of seasoning on the meat while Caroline shifts nervously on the barstool in front of me. She hasn’t said much since we got inside. Every time I catch her looking at me, she ducks her head and blushes. It’s cute as hell how shy she is. It’s been thirty minutes of us playing this game while I prepare our dinner, and so far the only thing she’s willingly asked me about is the ranch.

Safe topic, I reckon. Nothing that requires much input from her and not something that leaves the door open for me to press for more on her.

Not that I don’t mind talking about how well the Davis ranch does breeding horses, especially if, by doing so, I make her more comfortable with me. But I’m not a patient man when it comes to something I want, and make no mistake, I want this woman.

“Tell me why you were runnin’ back at the party,” I ask her softly, continuing to handle the steaks. Hopefully by keeping my attention off her while I probe, I won’t freak her out with the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue since she collided with Dell and me.

She sucks in a harsh pull of air. The sound makes my hands freeze before I look up from my task to study her. She doesn’t like attention, something I don’t need to know her better to figure out, but with that pained sound, I want her to see the sincerity behind my asking so she can’t doubt that I genuinely want to know what upset her. When she doesn’t answer, I give her what I hope to hell is a reassuring expression of compassion before I turn and walk the four feet to the large farm-style sink to wash off my hands. I feel her stare follow me the whole time I clean my hands, dry them off, and walk back to the island. This time I stand next to the food I was prepping so I can press my hands down on the counter and wait. I keep my face calm, and I hope she senses she can trust me and open up.

“You aren’t going to finish gettin’ the food ready until I talk about what happened, are you?”

My lips twitch.

“I probably should just tell you all the ugly parts of me so you’ll understand what a waste of time pursuing this would be. Save you from gettin’ upset when you realize you’re wastin’ your time on someone broken,” she mumbles.

“Darlin’, you’re not broken. You’re still standin’, which means you’re just a little dinged up, maybe even a little bit bent, but you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who isn’t.”

She frowns a little, her eyes searching mine rapidly. “You really believe that?”

“Sure do. You aren’t ever truly broken until you can no longer keep movin’ forward and they’re lowerin’ you into the ground. It’s what you call the ugly parts of someone that prove to others just how strong they really are.”