Rebel Cowboy (Big Sky Cowboys, #1)

And then what?

Her drooping eyes popped open. Yeah, she was not dozing the night away in Dan’s bed. Geez, what was wrong with her? She scrambled out of the bed to find her clothes, except he had piles of crap everywhere, and she didn’t see them in the dim light.

She had to get out of here. This was… Oh, damn it, it had been so much bigger than anything she had begun to anticipate.

She wanted to chalk that up to orgasm, but it was more than that. Some warm, gooey emotion centering in her chest. The kind of emotion that wanted to snuggle into his bed, and breathe the smell of him, and all the things she couldn’t allow herself, because that was not what this was about.

Forgetting not wanting. Doing something irresponsible. Certainly not letting herself dwell.

She’d gotten what she’d come for, no pun intended, and now it was time to get the heck out.

When he returned, unabashedly naked and just so damn gorgeous, it was not fair. Not fair that he could look like that and her brain would grind to a halt.

“Clothes. I can’t find my…clothes,” she said lamely. He might stand there having no qualms about his nakedness, but she felt…weird. Exposed. Like he could see through to that gooey center.

He wrinkled his nose and looked around, then grabbed a lump of fabric from one of his half-opened drawers. “Here, this’ll do for bed.”

He pulled the T-shirt over her head, dressing her as though she were incapable. It should be insulting, but all it did was make the warmth spread, a completely nonsexual ache centering in her chest. It was such a sweet gesture. Why did he have to go and be sweet?

She looked down at the logo on the shirt. Some athletic company in Chicago. So far away. The place he’d return to.

She had no doubts about that.

He pulled the band that had already lost half her hair all the way out, raking his fingers through released strands.

“Oh, don’t,” she said, pushing his hands away. “It’s all crinkly from my braid earlier.”

He chuckled, smiling down at her like…something special. “I like it.”

She needed to get out. There were all kinds of alarm bells going off in her head, but they were drowned out by that special feeling.

Had she ever felt special? You’re not.

Before she could begin to analyze the complications that went along with that thought, he was cupping her face—he did that a lot here, so easily, like his palms belonged on her cheeks, his fingertips belonged in her hair.

He kissed her, light and sweet. No deep, dark meaning, no demanding—it was just nice and comfortable.

Every kiss from Tyler had come to mean something, weighted with something. Always like he was searching for something, and she could never find whatever it was within herself to give to him.

It had become smothering, something to avoid or soldier through because he was a stable partner—and that was what she’d wanted. Kissing had become a chore.

But kissing Dan was like a treat, and maybe that meant affection was okay. Light and easy couldn’t be a sign of something more. Relationships were hard and painful, so the weird feelings weren’t something to worry about, probably, because they came with ease and felt good.

Maybe this meant nothing. Wouldn’t that be nice? Something light and fun and, overall, meaningless. Nothing in her life was all of those things.

So she kissed him back and let him lead her to bed. If this was her rebellion, why not rebel to the fullest?

*

He couldn’t imagine any scenario in which Mel would be happy with him for letting her sleep in. After all her lecturing about ranching being something you didn’t get a break from, et cetera, et cetera, she’d probably be pretty pissed he let her sleep while he went to feed and water Mystery Llama.

But he also remembered how desperately she’d said she needed a sleep in, how that would be so damn nice.

So he’d give it to her and incur whatever wrath that provoked. He was pretty sure that was taking care of someone, and it kind of shocked the hell out of him how good that felt. How much more he wanted to do for her. It didn’t feel weighty or complicated, like everything with his family. It felt right.

She deserved that, someone to take care. Lord knew she didn’t let anyone do that if she could help it, so he’d press his advantage while he could.

He jogged up the hill to the llama enclosure—his strange morning routine that he was beginning to enjoy. It wasn’t all that different than getting up and going to the gym, the rink, or for a run.

Prettier view. Fresher air. He missed the ice, the smell of it, the feel of that cool air on his face, but even late June mornings in Montana weren’t too hot.

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