Page 47 of Last Chance Cowboy
It seemed reasonable that this was actually some kind of rebellion against the version of herself that had been so responsible for so long. The version of herself that had been continually tuned to the needs of her mother. Rather than her own needs. While her peers had been going out and sleeping with the wrong guys, Cara had been resolute in sleeping with no one.
At twenty-four, she was beginning to feel that gap, feel that lack of experience. Maybe that was why she felt so electrified over him. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was just what it was like when you were a twenty-four-year-old virgin who needed to get dickmatized. Thinking about that, standing in front of him, standing right on his porch, was a very poor idea. But she was full of nothing but poor ideas at the moment.
Poor ideas and ill-advised lust.
She really was having some kind of inverted teenage experience.
“Almost ready,” he said.
“Oh. Can I come in?”
She practically held her breath. He was going to say no. There’s no way he was going to let her into his inner sanctum. No way he was going to do anything quite so hospitable.
Except then, he shocked her.
He inclined his head, gesturing for her to come into the cabin.
She did it quickly. Before he could change his mind. Then there she was. In Zane’s inner sanctum. Which was as surprising as it was illicitly thrilling.
The cabin was dark. But it was organized. It looked like it belonged to a military man. Neat and Spartan, but a log cabin could only besosparse. There was a hominess to it because of the materials. Because of all the natural wood.
There were shelves all along the back, and they contained bins full of mysterious items. There was a small collection ofbooks. They looked like children’s books. There were also a few thicker volumes, though she couldn’t make out what they were.
There was also a rifle hanging on the back wall. Not for decoration, she had a feeling.
There were boots by the door, but they were lined up neatly. Clean but rustic was the best description for it, and she found that she was hungry to take in every detail. To see if it would teach her more about him.
Because yes, her fascination was physical, but part of the allure was the mystery of him. The inaccessibility. She had wondered a little bit when she first got here if she might be into Walker. When she had let herself get talked into going to visit Zane and ask for access to his land, part of her had wondered if it was because Walker thrilled her just a little bit.
But the trouble with Walker was that he wasn’t a puzzle.
Walker wasn’t an open book. Easy. She had mused earlier if part of her fascination with Zane was her wanting to not be satisfied. Her wanting to not get exactly what she wanted.
Because she was in a pattern of withholding.
She didn’t think that was it, though. There was something about the special secret that was Zane. But that was weird and complicated and not something she was sure she could even make herself fully understand. There was something about the fact that she had been in his cabin now, and how many people had been? That she had gotten him to tell her that dad joke, and she knew that he had helped with equine therapy. That he was considering doing something with horses on his ranch.
Each little piece of lore felt like a trinket she wanted to hoard, take to bed with her and turn it over and over.
Maybe that was the issue. Nothing had ever been hers.
Her life had been about other people for a very long time. When she was a child, of course, her life had been about herfamily. Her life had centered around her wonderful parents, and why wouldn’t it? Around the family.
Then her father had died while her mother’s health had declined, and things had become about that pain. Her mom’s grief.
How it was affecting her.
Even when there were happy things, like Cody and Marlowe, then it was about their relationship, about them finding love and getting married, which gave her mom some joy while Cara did nothing of the kind, but cared as much as she could.
She wasn’t bitter.
She wasn’t.
It was all circumstantial. It had been her age versus their age. Even though they ultimately hadn’t had kids, her mom had, of course, been hoping that Marlowe and Cody would give her a grandchild, and while she had been lucid, just the hope of that had been something lovely for her.
And that was great.
It was.
