Chapter 29

“You sly dog.”

Cole stiffened at the sound of Hank’s voice, then slowly looked up from the flank strap buckle he was checking. He didn’t have to ask what Hank was talking about. The grin said it all.

Cole took a breath, stared him straight in the eye, and asked, “Do you like fighting bulls?”

“Uh, yeah.” The grin faltered. “Why?”

“You’re not going to be very good at it if I have to bust more than your chops to get you to shut up.”

Hank’s eyes went wide. “Whoa. Dude. I was just kidding, but if you can’t take a joke—”

“Do you see me laughing?” Cole made an effort to turn his face to pure, ice-coated granite.

Hank gave a slow shake of his head.

“Have I ever joked about a woman I was dating?”

“I don’t know. I was only about ten years old the last time—” Hank broke off and threw up his hands when Cole took a step toward him. “Right. No jokes.” He was quiet for all of five seconds. “Is it okay to talk about other people’s girlfriends?”

“Is there some reason I would want to hear this?”

“Only if you’d like to know that Ace’s woman is here. That Cordelia from last weekend.”

Well, hell. While he contemplated how this could possibly become a problem for him, Cole hooked and tripped the quick-release on the flank strap a few times to be sure it worked properly. The woman was old enough to take care of herself. Maybe beyond? At what point did she fall into the vulnerable elderly woman category? And wasn’t that her family’s problem? Besides, if Ace’s track record was anything to go by, he would shoot himself in the foot long before he got his hands on her kin’s inheritance.

Still, Cole would have to keep an eye on them.

“Hey, Hank!” A trio of young bull riders paused, gear bags slung over their shoulders as they headed for the back of the chutes. “We’re gonna tear it up later at the dance. See you there?”

“Uh…maybe. I’ll see if I’m in the mood.”

One of the guys hooted. “That’ll be the day, when Hustlin’ Hank isn’t in the mood for hot girls and cold beer.”

“Yeah, well…” Hank turned abruptly to climb up into the truck. “Guess I’m gettin’ old. I gotta get my gear on.”

The bull riders passed a glance among them, then shrugged and moved on. Cole stared at the truck door as it thumped shut. Hank bowing out of a party? Maybe he was actually growing up. Bigger miracles had happened, though Cole was hard put to think of one offhand.

Shawnee came strolling over from the stock pens, leading Salty. She flashed Cole a smile so bland he almost wondered if he’d imagined…but that wasn’t possible. His imagination wasn’t that good. The heat of the day was beginning to wane and all around them, the activity level was slowly ramping up. Contestants clomped past, leading or riding horses, chatting about tonight’s draw or last night’s runs. Cars rolled into spectator parking, spilling out families with toddlers, packs of cocky teenaged boys, and pairs of sleek, long-legged women, their clothes cut low on the top and high on the thigh with plenty of flash and fringe—what they considered cowgirl style.

Cole glanced over at Shawnee, in her royal blue Jacobs Livestock shirt and plain jeans, a rope slung over her arm and her hair corralled into a bushy ponytail—and imagined the shiny purple toenails inside those scuffed boots. Now that was his kind of cowgirl.

He waited until she stepped into the tack room of the trailer to get her saddle, then moved to block the door. “Hank already knows,” he said quietly.

He braced himself for the explosion, but she only nodded. “I figured word would get back.”

“Get back?”

“From home.” She pulled Salty’s bridle off a hook and hung it on the saddle horn. “As soon I hung up with Violet, I’m sure she called Melanie, and of course she called or texted Hank to see if he had any juicy details.”

“You…Violet…what?”

Shawnee stacked blankets on top of the saddle. “I had to call her. It’s the code. You don’t sleep with a friend’s brother—well, practically brother—and let her find out from someone else. Oh yeah, and Lily was there, too.”

She hefted the saddle and turned, bumping him in the chest when he just stood there, gaping at her. She’d told Violet. And Lily. Which meant…

She bumped him again, harder. “This thing is kinda heavy, you know.”

Cole grabbed the saddle out of her hands and marched to where Salty was tied. Shawnee followed, propping one shoulder against the corner of the trailer while she watched him sling the blankets onto Salty’s back. “I should have known you’d be the chivalrous type. Does this mean you’re gonna saddle my horse for me every night now that you’re gettin’ to jump me? Because I’m all for emancipation but I’m also kinda lazy, so feel free.”

“You are not lazy.” Cole tossed the saddle on and straightened the cinches. “And I’m only doing this because I need to keep my hands busy so I don’t throttle you.”

“What? It’s not like they weren’t gonna find out. If I sneeze in my trailer, someone over here in the trucks yells ‘Bless you!’”

Cole strode around Salty’s butt and reached under his belly to grab the front cinch. “If that’s the case, then why leave me hanging until two thirty in the damn morning, when we both could’ve got a decent night’s sleep?”

“There’s a difference between knowing and bearing witness.” Her gaze went hot, sliding over him like melted caramel. “And if I’d let you in at eleven, we’d both be lucky to be standing upright right now.”

Cole fumbled the latigo he was trying to thread through the cinch. He had to take a breath to clear the fog of lust from his head before he could speak. “What about tonight? You said same time, same place.”

“I’ve reconsidered. You can show up after the rodeo, on one condition.”

“Which is?” he asked warily, wondering what she’d dreamed up to torture him with now.

“I’m craving pizza. You show up at my door packin’ a large artichoke and sun-dried tomato with extra cheese and a six-pack of Shiner, I’ll let you in no matter what time it is. I’ll even throw in a movie. It can be like date night.”

“A pizza.” He took a deep breath, identifying the distinct aromas of hamburgers, barbecue, tacos, and popcorn, overlaid with the scent of hot grease. The concession stands were dishing up every other kind of fast food ever invented—and some that never should’ve been—but she wanted weird-ass pizza. And beer.

But she could’ve insisted on dragging him to the after-party instead, where one of the best indie bands in Texas was playing.

“I can do that,” he said.

“Excellent.” She ducked under Salty’s neck and shouldered Cole out of the way, tugging the latigo from his hand. “And I can do this, unless it’s an insult to your manly pride.”

He braced one hand on the cantle of the saddle and the other on the side of the trailer, boxing her in against Salty, and leaned down so his breath ruffled the renegade curls escaping her barrette. “I think it’s safe to say my pride is big enough to handle it.”

Her breath hitched and he caught her slight quiver when he nipped the top of her ear.

As he sauntered back to get his own saddle, she called after him. “Hey, Cole? Exactly how long is that list of yours?”

At the rate he was finding new things to add? He smiled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t make any other plans for the rest of the rodeo season.”

* * *

After the rodeo that night, the crew set a land speed record for finishing up the chores, anxious to get to the concert. Or in Shawnee’s case, to have time to dive through the shower before Cole showed up on her doorstep. The first crashing notes of the opening act rang out across the rodeo grounds as she chained the gate on Roy’s pen and started for her trailer. She passed near the announcer’s stand in time to see Mariah throw her arms around her father’s neck.

“You are the best daddy in the whole world!”

Tyrell hugged her back, but his expression was pained. “Keep your cell phone turned on, don’t take candy from strangers, and meet me at Cole’s pickup no more than ten minutes after the last song ends.”

“Ugh!” Mariah injected a gallon of exasperation into the sound, and topped it off with a spectacular eye roll. “I’m not a child. I’ve been to concerts before.”

“Not with girls I don’t know.”

“You know their parents.”

“I’ve seen them in the arena. That’s not the same as actually knowing them.”

“I’ll be fine.” She rose up on tiptoe to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I’m spending time with kids my own age, just like you’re always nagging me to do. Go have a nice, quiet dinner with your grown-up friends. I’ll see you later.”

And she was off, achingly fresh and beautiful as she all but skipped over to join the three girls who waited a safe distance away. Moments like this made Shawnee glad she’d never have to watch her own kids grow up.

She forced down the lump in her throat. Nostalgia, that’s all. Remembering what it was like to be a teenager going unchaperoned to a concert. The definition of cool.

Tyrell sighed. “A year from now she’ll be waltzing off to college. It scares the hell out of me.”

“And rightly so.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Everyone else tells me how mature and driven she is, and I shouldn’t worry so much.”

“They have apparently forgotten their first year of college,” Shawnee said dryly. “And I didn’t look like that.”

Tyrell grunted a laugh. “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel better.”

“Just keepin’ it real.” She cocked her head toward the noise and lights. “You could spy on her.”

“Right. A tall black man wouldn’t stand out in that crowd at all. Besides…” He smiled, his dimples winking sheepishly. “I don’t like going out without my wife. It’s hard enough, being apart this long. She doesn’t need to hear I’ve been drinking or dancing or whatever the gossips will manufacture if I give them a chance.”

Shawnee slugged him in the arm. “You are a good man, Tyrell Swift. And you’ve raised a good kid. She’ll be okay.”

“That makes one of us.” He rubbed a hand over his heart, then shot her a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose, if you’re going, you’d keep an eye—”

“Sorry. I have other plans.”

Big ones. About six and half feet worth, in fact. She grinned at her own wit as she waved good night and made a dash for her trailer before anyone else could sidetrack her.

She was just stepping out of the shower when the knock came at her door. After a two-second debate, she wrapped a bath sheet around her and went to let Cole in.

He didn’t even blink. Just stared intently at where the towel was tucked between her breasts, then said, “Let me find a place to set this stuff down.”

“You can do that while I put some clothes on.”

His gaze finally made it up to her face. “Don’t bother on my account.”

“I’m not. Unlike the pizza, the sex will get hotter if we set it aside for a bit.”

Cole grinned, and her heart did a crazy boom-chicka-boom. His hair was damp and he’d opted for another of those soft, clingy T-shirts that made her want to rub her face against him like a cat. Heavenly aromas of garlic, tomato, and yeasty crust wafted from the two boxes he balanced on one hand. A six-pack of Shiner longnecks dangled from two fingers of the other.

A great big hunk of man on her doorstep, bearing pizza and beer. Welcome to her wildest dreams. Shawnee inhaled so deeply she had to clutch at the towel to keep it from falling. “Give me two minutes.”

She locked herself in the bathroom before she could change her mind about the order of events. Still, there was no sense putting on a whole lot of clothes, so she pulled on a black racer-back tank with a built-in bra, bikini underwear to match, and a pair of cuffed denim shorts. She took the time to smooth lotion on every inch of exposed skin, run a wide-toothed comb through her hair, and curse the fact that men looked sexier straight out of the shower, while she just looked pasty. Oh well. He wasn’t here to admire her eyeliner.

Cole was kicked back on the couch with a beer in his hand. She snagged a Shiner from the fridge, twisted off the top, and made herself comfortable. Cole retrieved a stack of napkins and the pizzas from the table and sat down right beside her, hip to hip.

“If I can’t have you in a towel, I’ll settle for this.” Balancing the pizzas on his lap, he reached up to trace the curving edge of the tank top across her upper back, trailing sparks. Then he pushed aside her hair to press a warm, lingering kiss at the base of her neck, putting a little tongue into it. “You have really great shoulders,” he breathed against her skin.

She gasped out a laugh. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

He drew back, some of the heat leaching out of his eyes as a crease formed between his brows. “I’m sorry. I guess that’s one of those things women don’t like to hear.”

“No! I mean…maybe some women would take it wrong, but I…” Cannot speak in full sentences because I’m on the verge of spontaneous combustion. But her lust was muted by how, in a blink, his pleasure had dissolved into uncertainty. What idiotic bitch—or series of them—had done this to a man who could convince a woman that she had the world’s sexiest kneecaps? She let loose an aggravated breath. “Do you hear me complaining?”

“You’re just being polite.”

“Hah!” She practically spit beer. “I realize the sex was mind-blowing last night, but have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

He blinked, stared at her for a beat, and then gave his head a shake. “Yeah. I guess I did.” Then his grin crept back. “Mind-blowing, huh?”

“Begging for compliments?” She poked him in the arm. “That is lame. Now tell me why we have two pizzas.”

“You didn’t expect me to eat pickled vegetables and shriveled up red leather?”

“Have you ever even tasted them?”

“Why would I do that, when there’s so much perfectly good pepperoni in the world?” He passed her the top box, then flipped his open and pulled out the first slice.

Shawnee did the same, and waved hers under his nose. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a bite?”

He squashed back into the couch and screwed up his face like a first grader threatened with a brussels sprout. “Yuck. I don’t know if I can even kiss you after seeing that stuff.”

She stuck out her tongue, then took a huge bite.

Cole gave her a sidelong look that strolled from her bare toes to the top of her head. Then he flicked her a smug grin. “Still leaves me plenty of room to work.”

All the available territory was hit by an instant heat wave at the thought of being invaded by Cole’s hands, and Cole’s mouth, and…

She took another swig of her beer, but it didn’t do a thing to bring her internal temperature down, especially when he slung his arm around her and started sketching circles on her upper arm. He had her tucked up against him, knee to hip to shoulder, as close as they could get without sharing molecules.

She frowned. “I thought autistic people didn’t like to be touched.”

He shrugged, unoffended. “We’re all different. And it seems to matter where you are on the spectrum. I was a real cuddler when I was kid. I wanted someone to hold my hand everywhere we walked and I used to beg my mom or dad to come and lay with me at night, when I went to bed, just for five minutes so we could whisper secrets about any silly thing. Which Ninja Turtle I wanted to be, or whether there was a Disneyland in heaven.” His hand went still, as if he’d been struck by the thought that they might be able to answer now. Then he shook his head. “And touching a girl you’re dating is different. Like, I can’t handle it with Violet or Lily. I never know where to put my hands so I don’t grab the wrong thing. But I figure you and I are to the point where you might not knee me in the nuts for an accidental butt squeeze.”

Shawnee had to swallow hard, tangled up in visions of Cole as a…well, smaller boy. She couldn’t imagine him ever being little. “So that’s why that miserable mutt is so spoiled. Nothing like a dog when you need a cuddle.”

“Or a baby.” His expression went soft. “There’s nothing like cuddling a baby.”

Shawnee dropped her pizza slice, then tried to pretend she’d tossed it down on purpose by grabbing for a napkin.

“The way they curl up on your shoulder…” He sighed wistfully. “I used to offer to watch Beni just so I could hold him, but he outgrew that a long time ago. It’s too bad Lily and her husband haven’t been able to have kids. But pretty soon we’ll have the new baby.”

Geezus. He really did need to find a wife who wanted to pop out half a dozen rug rats. Shawnee closed the lid on her pizza, her appetite destroyed. She should tell him. Right now. Just spit it out.

Sorry, darlin’, but this ol’ mare’s been spayed.

And ruin not only this night, but all of the others they might have. He’d start looking at her that way. The way people always looked at her when they found out. Oh, you poor thing. Bless your heart.

Worse, if they realized she’d had a choice.

Cole’s hand tightened on her shoulder as she moved to rise. “That’s all you’re eating?”

“I’ll save it to gross you out later.” She pushed to her feet and made a show of batting her eyes at him. “I just love pizza in bed after a good workout.”

He made another brussels sprout face. “Food in bed is just wrong.”

“Well, damn. Guess I bought that whipped cream for nothing.”

His eyes lit up. “Could we make strawberry waffles instead?”

Shawnee burst out laughing. Honest to Pete, he was such a goofball. She could see why Violet didn’t like turning him loose. She tossed the box on the counter, then went looking for the television remote.

“We have five movie channels, or…” She angled him a hopeful look. “NCIS marathon?”

“NCIS. Gibbs is my hero.”

“Somehow not surprising.” She flicked to the right channel and fetched another beer for each of them. The first scene that came on was in the lab, with the goth forensics chick, which reminded Shawnee. “I asked Analise if she was going to the concert tonight, but she made a face like you did at my pizza and said she had plans that didn’t include country music.”

Cole polished off his fourth slice and washed it down with the last of his beer. “Hank said he wasn’t going, either.”

“Really?” Shawnee drew out the word as her mind put two and two together…or should that be one and one? “They were dancing when I left the beer garden last weekend. I wonder…”

Cole’s eyebrows rose. “Might explain why Hank’s friends are bitching that he’s been making himself scarce. She wouldn’t be impressed by that bunch of yahoos.”

“And wouldn’t be afraid to tell them so.” It was one of the things Shawnee loved about the girl.

She settled in beside Cole again. He immediately wrapped his arm around her. She made a token effort to concentrate on the television while Cole plowed through the rest of his pizza, then tossed the empty box on the table without getting up. Her blood hummed, but for now it was only pleasant background noise, like the music echoing across the rodeo grounds from the concert. It must be like this for Violet and Joe or Tori and Delon at the end of a long rodeo day. Relaxed, comfortable, but with the ever-present potential for fireworks if either of them decided to strike a match. The reason people got married, she supposed.

And had babies.

“What?” Cole asked, when she stiffened.

“Nothing. I just…I had an itch.”

“Where?” He gave her a leering grin. “I’d be glad to scratch all of your itches.”

She forced an answering, suggestive smile. “How ’bout you try to guess, and I’ll let you know if you’re getting warmer or colder?”

“It may take me a while,” he warned, plucking the bottle out of her hand and then pressing her back on the couch. “I’ve always been a little slow when it comes to games.”

His mouth found the most tender spot on the underside of her jaw, and her blood went from humming to singing through her veins. She let her hands rove over his broad back, his arms, his shoulders, learning the contours she’d missed in their previous explosive encounter. Meanwhile, he continued his search, his mouth and fingers making her breath come in hitches and gasps as he worked his way south, and she kept mumbling, “Warmer. Warmer. Oh yeah, definitely warmer…”

He had just crossed the equator when they heard the first scream.