The Rodeo Cowboy’s Baby Page 6

  “Hey, stop right there.” Flynn held up his hand, looking perplexed now as he glanced her way then turned back to the road.

  She knew how he felt.

  “That orgasm was my treat,” he continued. “No payback required. The way I see it, it’s the lady’s privilege to say no at any time…” He tapped his thumb on the wheel. She could hear the edge in his tone now, but she was fairly sure it was not directed at her.

  “Really?” She glanced down at his erection. And got momentarily fixated again trying to assess his proportions. Because he looked huge…

  Not the fecking point, Evie. Focus.

  He let out a rough chuckle and she realized he’d caught her looking. And assessing.

  Again, she ought to be mortified. But the little thrill in her panties was kind of contradicting that.

  “Yeah, really,” he said, the edge gone. “Although I hope you won’t get pissed with me if I picture you going off like a rocket in my truck when I take care of my business in the shower later tonight.”

  The little thrill got bigger. And even less appropriate. But feck it, why was she even worrying about appropriate anymore? Appropriate had gotten busted the minute she’d begged him to undo her bra and suck her tits.

  “On the contrary,” she said, refusing to be a hypocrite a moment longer. “I think I’d be honored.”

  He laughed again, the sound raw and more than a little strained but no less enchanting for it. “Good to know.”

  And she found herself choking out a laugh, too.

  He switched the radio back on, and his gruff chuckle drifted away into the night. The song changed from Kings of Leon’s hot raw melody into Eminem’s vintage “Slim Shady” rap, but the hum of sexual tension remained, buzzing and pulsing between them all the way back to the ranch.

  She bid him a hasty goodbye on the back porch, still mindful that she needed to take a time-out, to explore her options here. To figure out if she really wanted to go the full monty with this hotter than hell rodeo cowboy who had mad skills in the sack.

  But she couldn’t resist peeking at him through the ranch house’s kitchen curtains as his tall figure disappeared into the barn on the other side of the farm.

  An hour later she heard his heavy tread on the stairs, still wide awake in her room staring at the ceiling.

  Then the rush of water came on in the bathroom.

  Giddy joy shot through her tired body, as she imagined him taking that impressive erection in hand and thinking of her. She found the hot spot between her thighs and stroked herself in the darkness to relieve the ache that had been building ever since her last spontaneous orgasm.

  After she had reached her peak and lay in the warm pool of afterglow, listening to him switch off the water, then pad back down the hallway to his room, it occurred to her how long it had been since she’d felt the urge to masturbate.

  Too long. Way too long.

  And since she’d felt the urge to masturbate without feeling remotely guilty about it.

  Like never.

  As she finally drifted into sleep, feeling young and wicked for the first time in well, forever, one thought kept echoing inside her skull.

  The sad, sexless, somewhat pathetic woman who had arrived in Montana that morning locked in a comfort zone of guilt and blame and grudging animosity was gone, at least for tonight.

  And whatever happened tomorrow, the person she had to thank for that was a dirty, flirty, far too tempting rodeo cowboy called Flynn O’Connell.

  Chapter Three

  “Ready for your first rodeo?” Charlie threw a far too perky smile over her shoulder as she flipped something on the stove.

  The sharp scent of chicory made Evie’s fragile stomach weep with joy as she sat gingerly on one of the kitchen chairs. “No, but I’m ready for my first cup of coffee,” she murmured.

  Scooping an old-fashioned metal coffee pot off the stove, Charlie proceeded to pour Evie a generous mug. She slid it onto the table in front of her. “Want a pancake to go with that?” she asked, jauntily.

  “No,” Evie said. Her stomach rebelled at the buttery scent coming from the stove as she dosed the black brew with cream and sugar and took a life-saving gulp.

  She was normally a tea drinker, but when you were nursing a hangover the size of Connemara and had been forced to get up at the ungodly hour of six on a Saturday morning, coffee was required.

  Those World-Famous Vaquero Margaritas had been even more lethal than she assumed. But it wasn’t the margaritas that had disturbed her sleep. It had been Flynn O’Connell and the erotic visions that had plagued her most of the night, in which he had been a star player.

  “And since when are you so perky and domesticated at this hour of the morning?” Evie asked, feeling a lot older and more jaded than she had when she’d gone to sleep.

  Had she actually let Flynn O’Connell suck her tits last night in his truck? Then masturbated like a teenager while he showered in the room next to hers? And thought that was a good thing?

  “Since I started shagging a rancher,” Charlie answered, her Pollyanna perkiness taking a smutty turn.

  Charlie added the pancake she’d been flipping to a stack she had warming under the grill, dumped the plate on the table then plopped down in the seat next to Evie.

  “So, how did things go with Flynn last night?” she said, helping herself to the stack and squeezing half a bottle of syrup onto her pancake. “Any action on the ride home?”

  Evie’s cheeks got hot, and her stomach turned over. She took another fortifying gulp of coffee. She should have guessed she’d get the inquisition from Charlie this morning. Why hadn’t she been better prepared? And armed herself with a believable lie?

  “Ha, I knew it.” Charlie grinned, not even waiting for the lie. “Told you he was a sex god.”

  “Who’s a sex god?” Logan arrived in the kitchen, his deep voice making both her and Charlie jump.

  Evie groaned and grabbed her head. She would have been more thrilled about being saved by Charlie’s studly rancher dude, if thinking about Flynn hadn’t already set off unfortunate reminders all over her body.

  “You are,” Charlie shot back at her boyfriend, lying much more convincingly than Evie had ever been capable of. “Wanna pancake?” she asked, and Logan’s eyes went all dark and intense.

  It occurred to Evie, Charlie hadn’t been lying. To her, Logan was clearly a sex god of epic proportions. Then she flinched, feeling even more awkward than she had a minute ago under Charlie’s inquisition.

  Yeah, do not need to think about Charlie and her rancher dude shagging while I’m nursing the hangover from hell.

  “Sure,” Logan sat down next to Charlie and helped himself to a pancake.

  Evie concentrated on finishing her coffee. “What time does the first event start?” she asked, trying to sound professional.

  She needed to concentrate on finding an angle for her column today. Which meant getting to the rodeo on time and observing the events. Not dwelling on Flynn, or her total loss of control last night, or her well-deserved hangover this morning.

  “The grand entry kicks off at eleven,” Logan said. “Flynn said he could give you ladies a ride into town if you want to get in early to soak up the atmosphere. He’s got to feed and water his horse two hours before the warm-up, but he’s not competing till near the end of the roster. Tie-down roping is always third from last.”

  “That’s terrific,” Charlie said, wriggling her eyebrows not at all subtly at Evie.

  Evie’s face flamed on cue.

  Thanks so much, Irish skin.

  She resisted the knee-jerk reaction to reject Flynn’s offer, though. She was going to have to face him again sooner or later. And this was her job. Plus Charlie would be there to defuse any sexual tension from last night.

  She soon realized the error of that supposition, though, when she cornered Charlie on the porch ten minutes later while they waited for Flynn to arrive.

  “Listen, Charlie,” she began. �
��I know this is going to be impossible for you, but could you do me a favor and keep your innuendos to yourself during this ride into town?”

  “Of course.” Charlie smiled, her eyes surprisingly direct.

  Evie wasn’t buying it.

  “But only if you give me the low-down about what happened last night?” Charlie added.

  “That’s blackmail,” Evie said.

  “And your point would be…?” Charlie said, not remotely repentant.

  Evie noticed Flynn’s tall figure appearing out of the barn. He wore jeans and a checked shirt, and was carrying a saddle over his shoulder.

  Her heart flip-flopped in her chest and her breasts throbbed, still sore from last night’s mauling.

  “Fine, things got a little hot and heavy,” she said, hastily. Just give Charlie her pound of flesh—or should that be meat—then you can move on. “It was dark. I was drunk. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to…” Come like a freight train with virtually no stimulation whatsoever… She swallowed down the hot lump in her throat. “To have some fun,” she added limply. “And as you pointed out, he’s a total ride.”

  “Hot and heavy, how?” Charlie said, zeroing in on the one part of Evie’s excuse she did not want to elaborate on. “Are we talking first base? Second?”

  “Baseball metaphors are not my forte,” Evie said, stalling. Not easy when her cheeks and most of her torso were now on fire.

  “A penalty, a try, or a drop goal then?” Charlie said, smoothly switching to rugby terminology.

  “A drop goal for me,” Evie blurted out, the memory of his hand working her clit against the seam in her jeans too good to deny. “And a missed conversion for him. So I very much doubt he’s going to want to repeat the experience.” Why that should make her feel vaguely regretful was neither here nor there.

  She’d made the decision when she’d woken up with a throbbing head and tender nipples an hour ago she was going to draw a line under last night. It had been hot and heated and memorable. But not exactly smart, emotionally speaking.

  She wasn’t ready for rebound sex yet. Especially not rebound sex with a guy who turned her on with a single hot look more than her husband had during all the years of her marriage… And intrigued her more, too.

  Orgasmic foreplay was as far as she needed to go with this.

  Luckily they would both be busy today and tomorrow at the rodeo and she was booked on the morning flight from Bozeman on Monday—so if she could just get Charlie to act like a decent gooseberry, instead of an indecent one, everything would be grand.

  She doubted fending Flynn off would be a problem, though. Any guy who looked like he did would have lots of other options tonight. And after her poor showing last night he was unlikely to want to go there again. She hadn’t even lied about that.

  The pulse of regret hit her tonsils as her gaze lingered on the bulge and flex of Flynn’s shoulder muscles as he dumped his saddle into the back of the truck.

  “Stop selling yourself short,” Charlie whispered in her ear, and Evie’s heart jiggled on cue. “You’re a beautiful woman. Flynn’s not going to turn you down. You should go for the grand slam.”

  Evie forced her gaze off Flynn and glared at Charlie. “Shut up, you promised,” she hissed.

  “Hey there, Charlie…” Flynn stepped on to the porch and tipped his cowboy hat, forcing Evie to end her glare-off with Charlie. “Irish…” he added in that low confidential tone that did funny things to her insides. “You ladies ready to head out?”

  “Evie’s ready,” Charlie said with a naughty smile, forgetting her promise without a qualm. “But I’ve just realized I need to check out something. I’ll grab a lift with Logan, and make sure we get there before eleven. You guys go ahead without me.”

  So saying, Charlie hightailed it back into the house, leaving Evie standing in front of Flynn like a dummy, neatly maneuvered into riding into town alone with him.

  I’m going to fecking kill her.

  Flynn helped her back into his truck. The memories settled around her like hot darts. And her head started to ache.

  Even the worst gooseberry ever, it turned out, was better than no gooseberry at all.

  *

  “You sleep okay?” Flynn asked, keeping his eyes on the road and off the woman next to him, who couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if she were sitting on a cactus.

  “Yes, thank you,” she answered, her soft Irish accent so prim and proper he almost smiled. If she’d had a better night’s sleep than him he’d eat his own Stetson.

  “That makes one of us,” he murmured under his breath.

  It was only when she stiffened up like a poker that he realized she’d heard him. Damn, he hadn’t intended to make her more uncomfortable.

  It would probably be a good idea now to switch on KMCM, Marietta’s community-led local radio station. He liked the mix of tunes they played and it had been a useful way to drown out the awkward last night.

  He needed to get his head in the game for the long round today. The calf roping was one of the last events in the roster, but he had to clock a good time today if he was going to make the short round tomorrow—which meant preparing properly. He had his eyes on the top prize money of one thousand, eight hundred and fifty eight dollars and change. After taking off the cost of the entry fee and renewing his PRCA permit, he needed to hit the top spot to make enough to cover the final payment on the thirty-acre parcel of pastureland Logan was selling him on the banks of the Marietta River at the edge of The Double T spread. He had plans for that land. So getting that calf roped in double-quick time was important. He’d been practicing for weeks to get back up to the speed he’d had when he’d dropped off the professional circuit a year ago to settle in Marietta and take a job at The Double T.

  After the restless night he’d just had, though, in which he’d woken up several times to service a hard-on the size of Copper Mountain, with Evie Donnelly’s sultry scent filling his lungs and the sound of her sobs echoing in his groin, he was not currently in the best condition to get on a horse and rope a calf in under eight seconds.

  But somehow the urge to address the elephant in the room, which was currently sitting in Evie’s lap, got the better of him. And he resisted the easy option to switch the radio on.

  As he turned the truck onto the highway, and headed toward town, though, the silence intensified, as he tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say to her.

  The funny, confident, snarky woman he’d glimpsed last night had disappeared, to be replaced by the uptight girl he’d heard trash-talking farm boys earlier in the day. That he found both of those women equally captivating only made this whole situation more freaky. And fraught with possible screw-ups.

  This was a new experience for him. He’d never once had a problem making conversation with women. And especially not a woman whose nipples he’d felt hardening against his tongue like ripe…

  Whoa, fella.

  He shifted in his seat, as the blood rushed into his crotch.

  Get your head out of your pants, man. Trying to rope a calf with a hard-on will cripple you.

  He risked a glance across the cab.

  She was staring out of the windscreen at the open road, determinedly avoiding eye contact, but the splash of color on her pale cheeks was hard to miss.

  Something she’d said the night before, right after things had gotten hot, whispered inside his head.

  It’s been a very long time since I…

  Her almost confession had been one of the other things that had been tormenting him during his sleepless night. A very long time since what? Since she’d dated? Since she’d come? Since she’d had any fun at all? Because the way she looked now—so tense and rigid and miserable—was making him think it might be all three. Which was just a crying shame. And something he had the unprecedented urge to help her out with. Which was weird, too. Because of his hookup rule.

  Charlie was wrong. He didn’t have a hard and fast rule abou
t his hookups when it came to length. It was true, most of them didn’t last longer than a night, but sometimes he’d stretch to two nights or three. Why limit yourself to one night if you were both having a good time? But one thing he did have a rule about was complications. He didn’t lead women on, because he would be forever tainted by the biology of the bastard who had fathered him, which meant he wasn’t a good bet for the long term. So if a woman was sending out vibes that suggested she might need something deeper than a booty call, he would be giving that lady’s bed a wide berth.

  But that was until right here, right now. Because Evie and her half-confession had complication written all over it—but instead of wanting to cut and run, he wanted to know more. In fact he was practically eaten up with curiosity about those halting words. She’d looked so confused and wary straight after she had her orgasm. It wasn’t a normal response. But where had it come from?

  “Why did you freak out last night?” he asked, finally blurting out the damn question. He was through second-guessing why Evie Donnelly tugged at more than just his libido.

  “Would it be okay if we didn’t talk about it?” she said.

  He should leave it at that. He knew he should. He was trying to put her at her ease here, not freak her out more. But something about the way she said it, as if the conversation gave her pain, felt all wrong. Sex was supposed to be fun and uncomplicated, especially with a guy like him. Why that should make him feel kind of shallow all of a sudden he had no idea.

  Going with instinct, he reached across the seat and squeezed her hand.

  Her head swung around and she looked at him directly for the first time since he’d greeted her on Charlie’s porch. But she didn’t pull her hand away.

  He took that as a good sign.

  “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “But just so we’re clear. I had fun last night. And if you wanted to hang out tonight, after the rodeo, that would be cool. They host a steak dinner in Crawford Park—it’s more formal than the event last night, and there’ll be dancing and stuff. You’ll be able to suck up more of the atmosphere with a date.”