Tempting the Cowboy (11 page)

He thrust into her in one easy motion, and Rylan shattered.

“Goddammit!” Cole bit his lip as the quake of Rylan’s orgasm rippled around his cock. He rode her through it in even, deep strokes. Erotic sounds filled his head, the sound of their bodies coming together, her fingers dragging across the bed, their moans blending into one. Cole grabbed big handfuls of her hair, pulling her head back gently as the pressure in his groin built, his thighs growing tight until his climax couldn’t be contained another second. He let himself go, pouring out in long, hard pulses. Rylan’s entire body shuddered, and she went boneless beneath him. Cole wrapped his arms around her hips, holding them together until the lightning in his brain faded.

Rylan’s skin was damp with sweat against him as he curled around her and lowered her to the sheets. She spooned into him with a breathy sigh. Cole listened to her breathing and the soft satiated moan that fell from her lips. The far-off cry of a coyote echoed in his ears. She turned in his arms, one hand resting against his jaw. Cole searched her eyes, wishing for just a moment that he’d see something in her eyes that told him she wanted to be more—that she could be the one for him. She smiled sleepily, her eyes closing as she rested her head beneath his chin.

Cole gathered her up and snuggled her close, his heart equally full and empty. He was already vulnerable, a place he hated to be.

“That was wonderful,” she whispered, her left arm tightening around him as she wiggled even closer against him.

Wonderful? It rocked him completely off-center. Cole threaded his fingers through her hair and took a big breath of her sweet scent. “Amazing.”

“I’m going to like blowing off steam with you,” she said, her left leg smoothing over the top of his thigh. A small heaviness plunked through the middle of his sated fog.
Blowing off steam. Absolutely. That’s all it could be.

“Oh, sweetheart, me too.”

Her narrow fingers traced a lazy path over his biceps as time ticked down. The coyotes sang, getting farther away until their sounds were replaced by an owl hooting near the tent. Rylan’s even breathing told him she was close to sleep, if she wasn’t already out. Reluctantly, he pulled back and gave her a gentle shake. He could stay here all night, but getting caught breaking his own rule wouldn’t look too good. The sun would be up soon and so would the ranch hands. If he was going to get her back unseen, they needed to go now.

“We have to get back, Rylan.”

She moaned and turned onto her back, pulling him with her. Cole’s body jumped to life as her breasts pressed into his chest.

“Do we have time for one more round?”

Cole chuckled, moving reluctantly away before he was tempted to say yes. He handed Rylan her shirt while he stood to dress and paused to watch her slip the shirt over her head, each flutter of the fabric covering her body and filling him with disappointment. His blood still hummed, his skin alive with her touch. As he led her to the horse, he knew that one more time wouldn’t be enough. A million times wouldn’t be enough.

Chapter Twelve

The sweet ache between her legs made it hard for Rylan to keep a ridiculous grin off her face the next morning. When Tucker approached her about taking Maeve into Missoula for her doctor’s appointments, Rylan happily agreed. She was riding an endorphin high and nothing was going to dampen it—not even knowing she’d have to watch Birdie while Maeve was in the clinic.

Missoula had all the amenities of a large city, most specifically, a Starbucks. The promise of an espresso-induced mouth orgasm was too good to pass up. The minute the coffee hit Rylan’s lips, she knew she’d be flying all day. Good. It was about damn time. Maeve’s appointments and testing would take a couple hours, too long for Birdie to sit and wait. Following Maeve’s directions to the mall, Rylan figured she’d find a way to keep Birdie busy until Maeve was done.

Rylan had a soft spot for the child, she had to admit. Taking care of Birdie’s injury the other day had touched her deeply. It felt good to be needed that way, and Birdie seemed happy to continue stomping on Rylan’s emotions by bouncing around in a tutu, curls flying, big blue eyes sparkling like rain. And then her heart would break all over again. Any other child? Well, other kids went home. Not Birdie. She lived under the same roof, subjecting Rylan to her girlish giggles and the patter of her fat little feet every single day. It was slow torture seeing, hearing, touching this child who reminded her so much of Rachel. Yet as the days passed, it started to feel less and less uncomfortable and more tolerable. Nice, even.

Rylan wasn’t sure what Birdie was more excited about, going to the mall now or her upcoming fifth birthday party. She nearly pulled Rylan’s pinky finger off with her strong little grip as she beelined for the ice cream kiosk, eagerly jumping into a ridiculously long line. As they waited, Birdie chattered nonstop about birthday cake and presents, her hand settling completely into Rylan’s. Memories of holding Rachel’s hand when she’d just learned to walk rubbed their way to the surface. The closer they got to their turn to order, the harder Birdie squeezed her hand. It didn’t take long for the little girl’s excitement to become contagious.

They sat at a bench after getting their treats. Birdie watched drips roll off her cone, rushing to catch a few with her tongue. “Uncle Levi has that,” Birdie said in between drip-chasing. Rylan followed her gaze across the hall to a store selling ready-to-stuff teddy bears.

“What does Levi have?”

Birdie pointed to the poster on one of the store windows that showed a bear with an American flag stitched on its chest, wearing military camouflage pants and a cap. Rylan lowered her cone. As far as she understood, Birdie had never met her uncle Levi. He’d left for the military before she’d been born and hadn’t been home since. That she recalled enough about him from what her family had told her was sweet and heartbreaking all at once.

“Levi wears those same clothes?”

Birdie nodded in agreement.

A thought popped into Rylan’s head. “Should we make one of those bears for Levi? You could send it to him in a care package, like when Grandma sends him things.”

Birdie jumped up from the bench, took a huge bite off the top of her cone, and threw the rest in the trash.
I guess that’s a yes.
Rylan laughed and grabbed Birdie’s sticky hand.

“Let’s go wash up first.” They headed through the crowded mall to the bathroom. On the way, Rylan noticed a well-dressed woman in a hot-pink sundress across the hall. Her glittery blond hair was smoothed in a perfect ponytail, golden necklaces and bangles completing the polish that made her stand out among the jeans-and-T-shirt-clad crowd. Rylan felt a moment of envy. Didn’t every woman want to look like that just once?

On their way back to the teddy bear store, Birdie pulled Rylan into a toy store and filled her arms with baby dolls. Then off to a clothing boutique where she fingered sunglasses and floppy hats and sparkly sandals. Rylan smiled when Birdie modeled for her, feeling an inkling of lightness creep through her inner walls at the sound of Birdie’s laughter. Unlike most kids on shopping trips, Birdie didn’t ask for anything. She perused the goods with joy and put them back when she was done. They made a teddy bear for Levi, complete with camo pants, a jacket, and cap they had embroidered with his name. By the time they were done, more than two hours had passed and Rylan had barely noticed.

“It’s time to pick up Grandma and get back to Paint River, Birdie. Are you ready?” Rylan helped Birdie put the bear in a bag. They stepped out of the store, nearly colliding with the woman in pink by the exit. Rylan stopped short to avoid running into her, pulling Birdie back with her.

Rylan gasped. “I’m sorry. We didn’t see you.”

The woman had a collected smile and her light-blue eyes clung to Birdie with a ferocity that Rylan found a little alarming. Maybe it was her cop Spidey-sense going off again, but the look had “opportune kidnapper” written all over it. Rylan strengthened her grip on Birdie’s wrist.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, crossing her hands in front of her. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re going to Paint River Ranch?”

Rylan nodded. “Yes.”

“Is Cole Haywood there?” she asked. “I just… He hasn’t returned my calls, so I was wondering if he was home.” An image of Cole’s lips came to mind. How they’d tasted on hers. The feel of his body sliding in and out of hers.

“Um, yes, he’s there,” Rylan replied with tension squeezing her gut.

“Cole is my daddy!” Birdie’s possessive voice came from behind Rylan’s legs. The woman smiled and gave Birdie a little wave.

“I know, sweetie. I know your daddy
real
well.” She turned back to Rylan, the cool smile gone. “And you are?”

Rylan tipped her chin up at the woman’s haughty tone. Her endorphins were still running smooth and high. Fine, she’d play nice. She extended a hand. The woman didn’t take it.

“I’m Rylan,”

“She’s the housekeeper!” Birdie chimed in again, climbing both her hands up Rylan’s forearm. Rylan grimaced. The woman cleared her throat with a small smile on her pouty lips.

Rylan stomped down the flicker of self-consciousness welling inside her. What the hell did it matter if this magazine Barbie knew that she was the housekeeper? “Shall I give Cole a message?”

The woman shook her head, an amused glint in her frosty eyes. “No.” And she spun on one nude heel and left. Rylan riffled through the possibilities of who Barbie might be as the woman walked away. Cole’s lover? Business associate? Family friend? Right, she was going with lover. Jealousy wanted to snake in, but Rylan refused. They had a no-commitment agreement, and Cole had been with
her
last night. No one else. That was all that mattered. Even as she tried to rationalize it, her brain growled out one word:
mine!

Rylan refocused. Cole certainly wasn’t hers, and she needed to stop reading into it right now, take what he could give, and enjoy the hell out of it. Rylan reached her hand to Birdie.

“Ready, Birdie?” The little girl grabbed on to Rylan’s pinky and started swinging their connected hands.

“Can we go home and see my daddy?”

Rylan’s chest flushed with warmth. That was the best idea they’d had all day.

…

The big house took on an unusual hush that night. Rylan was accustomed to the sound of Cole or Tucker coming and going, or Birdie’s nightly fracas to put off going to sleep. Sitting on the middle of her bed, Rylan focused on her breathing and relished the quiet. Their long day in town had likely pooped Birdie right out. Rylan was certainly tired. She lay back on the mattress, recognizing how much she’d enjoyed spending time with Birdie today. Watching her eat ice cream, the way one finger made little trails in the drips over the waffle cone, tipped the whole thing off. After that, Rylan had found herself observing all the little nuances—facial expressions, the way she said certain words, how her tongue stuck out when she concentrated—that made Birdie, Birdie.

Rylan frowned a little and closed her eyes tighter. An image materialized in her mind’s eye. A pair of huge brown eyes with long, curling lashes over almond-shaped eyes. A small rosebud mouth, hair the color of morning sun. The lips smiled and then the image was gone.

Rachel.

Rylan snapped back from the image. Where the hell had that come from? She burst shakily to her feet. Memories of her afternoon with Birdie morphed into an instant image of her daughter. The guilt grew, pulling at her with sharp hands. Ashamed, and not entirely sure why, Rylan slapped her hand on the night table, looking for her iPad. Moments like this called for a little therapist-friend e-mail connection.

Was it possible her subconscious was afraid Rachel’s memory would be pushed out? Replaced? Rylan froze. She could never replace her daughter’s memory. Yet if she continued to allow herself to get close to Birdie, maybe the moments she had with Birdie in the present would override the memory of those she’d had in the past with Rachel.

She would be replaced… Was that even possible? And if it was…

The bedside table where she kept the tablet was empty. With a groan, Rylan remembered she’d left it on the dining room table earlier. Human company was the last thing she wanted right now, but considering how quiet the house was, Rylan figured everyone had likely retired for the night. She padded down the hall barefoot, stopping dead when the living room came into view.

Cole was on the leather couch, Birdie tucked into his arm while he read to her. Rylan’s chest swelled when she saw them there. Tucker lounged sideways in a chair in the corner, hat pulled low over his face, soft snores rumbling off him. The Haywoods were rarely in the house together, and when they were, it was never this quiet. The simplicity of the moment was warmth and disconcertment rolled into one prickly ball. She preferred the chaos of daytime. It helped her remember that family was just what she was trying to forget.

Discomfort made her tiptoe as stealthily as possible to the table to grab her iPad. As much as she craved Cole’s touch, she didn’t want his attention right now. Not when her mind was racing and her heart was being pulled in different directions. Relieved no one seemed to notice, Rylan turned covertly on one socked foot, ready to slink back down the hall, when the leather couch squeaked and Birdie’s blond head appeared over the back.

“Ry, will you read?” Birdie climbed on her knees to stare. Cole sat up straighter. An appreciative smile crossed his lips, making her tingle everywhere but doing nothing to stop her fear.

Rylan shook her head and started to scoot back to the hall. “No, no. You read with your daddy.”

“Read about the puppies!” Birdie patted the back of the couch, her braid flopping over one shoulder.

The tablet felt heavy in Rylan’s hands, her socks itchy and tight. It was just one story. Mouth dry, she tried to smile, but her lips went hard and thin. She’d rather scrub the toilets with her own toothbrush than read to the round-faced, blond imp sucking on the back of the couch with pleading turquoise eyes. She’d had Birdie time today, and it was threatening to undo her.

Cole gently tugged Birdie’s braid. “Come on, squirt. Let’s finish this book.”

“Ry, do it.” The sharp protest stabbed Rylan in the throat. “Ry” didn’t want to do it. Cole groaned and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“Birdie, baby, it’s late. Daddy’s tired. Can we—”

Birdie swiveled on the couch, slapping the cushion. “C’mon, Ry.”

A nugget of longing poked through the hesitation and made her take a step to the couch. Chest tight, hands tingly, Rylan found herself next to Birdie. She set the tablet down and took a seat a good foot away. Birdie bounced on her butt twice, her gauzy pink nightdress fluttering around her legs. A thumb in her mouth, Birdie edged a little closer.

Rylan’s back was painfully straight. She cleared her throat, hoping Birdie wouldn’t decide to flop into her lap. Cole tossed the book with a wink, and it landed on her tightly knit hands. Rylan jumped.

“Daddy, you lost the page!”

“Sorry, baby.”

Birdie wiggled on the couch again, the ruffle of her nightgown touching Rylan’s thigh. Rylan held her breath, watching from the corner of her eye as Birdie leaned over to look at the book. When Rylan still didn’t read, Birdie leaned closer, her hair brushing Rylan’s forearms. Her skin prickled from the contact. Freshly washed little-girl scent paralyzed her. Lavender soap, baby lotion—all that was missing was the sweet dust of baby powder.

“There!” Birdie punched the page with one finger before folding her hands patiently in her lap. Rylan looked at the page. Shallow breathing made it hard to get the words out. She tried. Her voice cracked. She tried again but no sound would come.

Rylan glanced at Birdie. Blond hair, big blue eyes. Not blond hair and big brown eyes. Long, almost-a-preschooler legs, not pudgy baby legs. Cole’s scent reached her, sun-warmed skin, sweat, and crisp, sporty deodorant. No day-old-alcohol or fresh-scotch smell anywhere. The room squeezed around her, and suddenly she was on another couch with another man, another child. In another lifetime.

“Read,” Birdie encouraged, kicking the couch with her legs.

“Okay, Rachel.” Pressure pounded her head as the name slipped out. Maybe it was quiet enough that no one noticed. Tears bit Rylan’s eyes and filled her voice as she began to read about a puppy with a lost collar. The room was still, save the sound of her shaking voice.

Once she started reading, she couldn’t stop. The words absorbed in her brain, came out her mouth in robotic, choppy tones. Birdie was staring at her.

“Jesus,” Cole whispered. He leaned over and touched Rylan’s hand. “I’ve got this.” He plucked the book from her grip.

Rylan looked at him in question, realizing the pages were puckered from her tears. Horrified, Rylan wiped her wet cheeks. Spine burning, she grabbed the tablet and hurried from the room. The mattress came up to her face as she plowed onto the bed, chest heaving, pulling her into memories she’d never fully live again.