Chapter Six
Urban helped Presley up the stairs to the porch, although she’d made it clear that she was independent. He leaned against one of the white pillars as she fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door. He didn’t mind since it gave him some time to watch her, something he found he liked.
Her long hair was piled high on her head with soft tendrils falling around her flushed cheeks. She wasn’t wearing makeup, nor did she need any. She was beautiful without any help.
She pushed open the door and looked back at him. “That took some time, but I got it finally.”
“Vision still blurry?” he asked.
“Some.”
“Why don’t you lie down and I’ll take Pixie out. Then I’ll make you some dinner. I think we both could use some nourishment,” he offered, picking up the dog who had her tail wagging happily.
“I haven’t thought much about it, but I am hungry. I could use another pain pill also and the nurse told me it’s best to take them with food.”
“Then so be it. Lay down on the couch and let me handle everything. I can’t promise the food’ll be good, but it’ll be edible.”
She smiled and yawned. “I could use a little nap.”
He watched her slowly walk into the living room that was now shadowed from the setting sun. He took Pixie out, let her do her business, and when he brought her back in, fed and watered her even though she wasn’t interested. She went in to lie down with Presley.
The kitchen was large with modern appliances. He wasn’t the best cook, but he could wing it—he didn’t have a choice. Inside the fridge he found eggs, shredded cheese, and bread in the bin. Nothing easier than eggs and toast.
Figuring she was probably passed out, he took his time and when he came back out in the living room, it was now drowned in darkness. Placing the tray of food on the coffee table, he switched on the lamp and smiled. She was curled up on the couch, her hands pressed together in prayer and her face laying against them. She looked peaceful. And beautiful.
He wanted to stare longer, but also wanted her to eat before the food got cold. He lightly shook her shoulder. “Presley? Wake up.”
She moaned and muttered something inaudible, a second before her eyes came open and she sat up quickly as if she was running from a bad dream.
“You okay?”
“I fell into a deep sleep.” She scanned the table. “You made that? Everything looks delicious.”
“I can manage a few things and eggs are on that short list.”
She smiled and he could have easily groaned aloud, but he didn’t. He was a goner without a doubt. She tugged at his heartstrings and made his body ache. Shifting, he hoped to give his aching crotch a little more room, but it wasn’t enough.
Presley adjusted her shirt, tugged it down her hips, and dropped her feet to the floor. “I bet they’re scrumptious.” She dug in and filled her mouth with egg. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she said around a mouthful.
“Sure.” He couldn’t tell her that he was having way too much fun watching her.
Reaching for his plate, he sat down next to her and nibbled, not tasting anything because he was too focused on the lovely woman who was sitting beside him.
“They’re good. Thank you. I was starving.”
Her soft voice did funny things to his heart. “Glad I could be of assistance.”
“So, tell me more about this documentary that’s worth fifty grand.” She used the knife, dipped the tip into the butter and modestly buttered her toast triangle.
Forcing his brain to work, he cleared his throat. “Some filmmaker wants to document a rodeo star’s life. Rules are that he must be married. In other words, they want to prove that not all bull riders are in it just to sleep with the buckle bunnies.”
“Fifty grand is a lot of money.” She bit into her toast, leaving a dab of butter on her top lip. He unknowingly leaned forward, ready to wipe it away when he realized what he was doing. He had no right to touch her as he pleased. What was he thinking? Hell, he wasn’t.
“Yeah, it is. Obtaining the deed to this property and the business is too.” He bit into his dry toast and it went down like sawdust.
She nodded. “I question whether dad means it, but knowing how stubborn he is, I don’t wish to find out.” She dropped the remining toast and turned to him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “When do you need an answer?”
Well, at least she didn’t come out and turn him down flat. “I need to contact the filmmaker by the end of the week.” He swiped his hand down his cheek. “Look, I know that’s soon and the opportunity is there for both of us, but it’s not the end of the world. The last thing I want is to make you feel pressure.” What was he saying?
Her tongue came out to roll across the swell of her bottom lip and his zipper stretched to capacity. “I’m not saying yes, and I’m not saying no.” She picked at the corner of the napkin.
*****
Sitting there, looking into his amazing blue eyes made her dizzy. An adrenaline rush had her in its clutches, making her want to faint—right into his arms. What was she going to do? What he offered could change her life forever, but at the same time, it was quite ridiculous. Who was forced to marry these days? And yet, people married for less reasons. She and Urban both could have everything they wanted…but could they? Didn’t she want love? Children? Someone to grow old with? Deep down she guessed she did and those weren’t the promises he was making her. They would marry and, after an appropriate length of time, they would divorce. Not very romantic and yet, why didn’t she hate the thought of marrying him?
In fact, once upon a time marrying him would have been like winning a jackpot.
She was a child then. Now, she had responsibility.
He was staring at her and she rubbed her hands down her thighs, her stomach turning in a good way.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Presley.”
A little laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Urban Jericho is telling me that I’m beautiful? Wow,” she teased.
“Stop. You know you are.”
“You called me Red and I didn’t take it as a compliment. You also said I had a big nose.”
He blinked and she swore he lost some of his color. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” She stared him down.
“I was an idiot. What was wrong with me?”
“You were five and a brat.” She laughed, but when he took her hand into his she couldn’t breathe. There was no chance she could pull away either.
“There’s definitely nothing wrong with you. I love the color of your hair.” He lifted a strand, rolled it around his wide finger and let it fall back to her shoulder. “Love your nose too. You’re the true meaning of perfect.” He moved the thick mass of her hair and ran his finger from the side of her neck around to her nape. The only thing that would have felt sweeter was if he followed the same path with his tongue.
She forced air into her lungs and exhaled with a hiss. She was on fire. “Why are you doing this?”
He slipped his fingers under the scoop neck of her blouse and ever so slowly he pulled it down one shoulder. She trembled as he leaned forward, his warm breath sweeping across her goosebumped flesh. Stuck somewhere between desire and fantasy, she waited for his touch on her sensitive skin, but it didn’t come…at least not yet. He cursed. “You’re hurt. The spot where the needle went in is all bruised.” The sincerity of his voice could have moved mountains—it certainly moved all the locks off her gates. “This just isn’t fair,” he whispered. He ran the tips of his fingers over her shoulder. “Does it hurt very bad?”
Her tongue thickened. “Uh…yes…I mean…not really. I guess some. I’ll live.” Did he realize his touch made everything better?
“When are you due for another pain pill and antibiotic?”
“Right now,” her voice trembled. “But I’m okay. Just tired,” she spoke softly.
He reached for the bottles on the table, uncapped them, shook out the right number of pills and placed them on the table in front of her. “Take them before you feel worse.”
“Are you trying to get me loopy?” Her laughter sounded more like a squeak.
“I’m trying to keep you from feeling pain. Remember the nurse said you’ll feel worse tonight.”
“Getting me loopy wouldn’t work anyway. The pain pill is very low dosage.”
His kindness was like a rope lassoing her heart and tugging her in. Logic told her to resist, but her body wanted to throw off the mask and gloves and go for it. There were risks involved, but what in life that’s worthwhile didn’t come with a gamut of perils?
Taking her dose of pills, she swallowed them with water and had the urgency to stick out her tongue to show him she was a good girl, but she snapped her lips closed. “I guess I should go upstairs so I don’t fall down them.”
“Yes, you should.” He stood and before she could mutter a word of resistance, he swept her up into his arms and held her closely. Lying against his hard chest, inhaling leather and musk, she collapsed against him.
“Urban? What are you doing? Put me down.” She pushed against his chest, but it was more like a chance to touch him to see if he was as hard as he looked. He sure was!
“I’m carrying you so be still. I’m not taking the chance that you’ll fall down and hurt yourself again,” he murmured near her ear.
“You’re treating me like a child. I’m fine.”
“No. You’re still weak. Behave yourself and let me do what anyone would do in this circumstance.”
She wanted to struggle, but all resistance faded. He carried her so easily up the stairs while she listened to the beating of his heart. Strong. Powerful. Just like everything about him.
Once upstairs, she pointed him in the direction of her bedroom and he carried her in, placing her in the middle of the thick, white blanket and she sunk into the soft cotton, but it didn’t compare to Urban’s arms. He started to back up and she caught his hand, holding it and staring at him. Seconds passed. “Where are you sleeping?” she asked.
“The sofa sure did look comfortable.” He winked.
“It’s not as comfortable as it might look. If you’re staying I can’t have you waking up with a kink in your neck. This is a queen size bed and big enough for both of us.” She slid over in silent invitation, forgetting all hurdles involved.
He stood next to the bed and she could see his thoughts swirling in the brightness of his blue eyes. “Presley…”
“Don’t think I can keep my hands to myself?” She smiled.
“Hell, you keeping your hands to yourself is the least of my worries.”
“Suit yourself. The couch it is then.” She rolled over, a minute later she heard him kick off his boots and felt the springs lower. Looking over, she smiled. “Close your eyes, cowboy.”
“Why?” One corner of his mouth lifted.
“I’m taking off my clothes.” With a growl, he shifted and turned. Removing her shirt and pants, keeping on her bra and panties, she climbed back into bed and covered with the sheet. “Goodnight, Urban.”
“Goodnight,” he said in a tight voice.
“Wait, I have a question.” She sat up, holding the sheet against her breasts.
“Sure.” He rolled over, one brow lifted.
“Let’s say for theories sake that we were married. Would we share the same bed?”
He rubbed his chin. “That would be up to you.”
“Hmm. So, what you’re saying is, I decide whether we have sex or not?”
He chuckled. “The ball would definitely be in your court, sweetheart. I can’t say I would mind, but then again, I’m a man, but I would never pressure you into anything.”
How could she tell him that he wouldn’t have to pressure her, not in the slightest? “How about living arrangements? Have you thought about that?”
Realizing this was going to be more than a question, he propped up on his elbow, his eyes dazzling in the lamp light. “I guess that would be up to you too.”
“Don’t you care about anything?” She leaned against the headboard.
“Yeah. If you and I were married, real or not, I wouldn’t want you dating anyone else.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m single and don’t date.” Presley blew out a long breath. “You’re the one who would have an issue.”
“Turnabout is fair play. I wouldn’t expect you to give up dating if I planned to continue.” He punched his pillow. “Anyway, it’s not like my planner’s full.”
“Ha!” She slid down the bed and tucked the sheet up to her chin. “I would have every single woman in Colton envious.” She laughed. “You’re a catch, Urban Jericho.” She yawned loudly. “A woman would be lucky to ha—”
She fell fast asleep.