Page 19 of Risking it for the Cowboy

“What did a screwup like me do to get so damn lucky?” He dusted a kiss there. “I think … I gotta see you again. One night ain’t enough.”

She froze as a knuckle smoothed down her cheek. He had been fishing.

So reverent. She dare not break the spell with her fears and insecurities. Right now, this man was still perfect. It felt good to just … exhale. To just … feel wanted. To feel like the most important object in a man’s eye, instead of disdained.

How could a womanizing one-night fling feel so genuine?

They’re always perfect in the beginning. But the shine wears off and guys turn into monsters. Don’t forget it.

The caress continued. Roughened knuckles smoothing. Her skin pebbled. She wrapped her arms around his torso, his scent so sharp and masculine. Nestled her face against that chest covered in a tattoo that spanned his left pectoral and down his arm, tapering off unfinished. Inspected the nuances of the stylized guitar inked into his flesh amid horses and mechanics tools and the words Charity, Temperance, Patience, Faith, in script in the shape of a heart upon his heart. Some mantra he lived by? Morals he tried to espouse?

She could feel his breath on her forehead, lips grazing her skin, his palms now cupping her cheek, down her shoulders and breasts as his undulating increased, zinging electricity through her blood with renewing vigor as if he could feel her desire growing for … round five? Six? What number would this be? She’d lost count and instead pressed her forehead into his chest.

He fumbled blindly on her nightstand for his wallet, knocking into her lamp.

They laughed as he rolled his lust-thickened shaft between her folds, frowning when he realized his whole strip of condoms were spent.

“You got more?” He fumbled open her drawer, paused, then pulled out a wadded, pastel … sash?

No! She snatched it from his fingertip as her phone began to buzz with an incoming call. This early? Oh God, the call she’d feared all night like an anvil ready to drop! What was wrong? Daisy?

She patted for her phone as the wind outside whipped louder. Knocked it off the bedside as McClintock lifted off her, and retrieved it, noticing a text notice from Heart saying she was, already off to get coffee before my survey job and holy cow you and that singer blew the roof off this house. I could hardly sleep downstairs…

5:02 a.m.

Incoming call from Jason Thompson.

She wriggled out from beneath him, hurrying to swipe the call and answer.

“Hello?”

“What’s this shit on social media, Charlie?” Jason growled without preamble.

Chapter Seven

All happiness and floating in protective bubbles vanished.

“Throwin’ yourself around on stage with that prick last night? You still that beauty queen you always used to be? Your picture’s all over, seducing that Disclaimers asshole.”

What was Jason talking about?

“Who is it this blazing early?” McClintock’s deep voice grumbled still scratchy with sleep.

“Who the hell was that?” Jason rumbled through the cell.

Charlie bolted to her feet, tripping over her banjo and barely hopping aside before stepping on it. She dashed to her window, peering up the road. Wind whistled through the gap in the sash, smelling of impending rain, licking across her skin.

“What’s wrong?” McClintock’s baritone resonated at her back.

She glanced over her shoulder to see he was taking in her rigid stance and not liking it.

“Jesus, Charlie, you playing your same old tricks on Thaddeus McClintock?” His real name was Thaddeus? “You’re dumber than I thought. Gonna let him knock you up too? Fuck, he just uses girls up and spits ’em out. Now you got him in my daughter’s house?” Jason fumed in her ear. “You think you got a chance at him? You divorce me and hop into bed with him to replace me?”

Oh God. She couldn’t deal with this on two hours of sleep. Why did Jason always insist on sabotaging her private life? She’d done everything to shrink away and, still, it was never enough.

“Is Daisy all right?” she asked, pacing away, trying hard to ignore the hateful barbs.

She hated this knot of dread tightening in her belly, this knot that torqued tighter with each passing month.