Cowboy For Hire Read online

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m getting the pills,” he said, and she could hear him rummaging through her purse. He was back a minute later, sitting beside her on the bed. She forced herself to open her eyes, and he placed the pill in her hand and held the cup to her lips for her. She swallowed it and lay back down with a sigh. She was in so much pain, she couldn’t even be embarrassed. “Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “I’m going to close the curtains; will that help?”

  She nodded. “Please.”

  A moment later, the light was gone and the room was shrouded in darkness. She turned on her side, curling her legs up, praying that nausea wouldn’t hit before the medication could kick in.

  “I’m going to call Carl and get the room for another night,” Cade said, his voice sounding like he was speaking from a tunnel.

  She tried to reply, but she wasn’t sure he could hear.

  A moment later, his deep voice spoke in hushed tones, and the sound of him was reassuring. “Okay, just do what you need to do. We don’t have to go anywhere. I’m right here if you need anything. I won’t leave,” he said.

  The throbbing pain finally hit full force, and his words barely registered. “I’ll be okay. I just need to sleep it off,” she said, willing herself to speak. She kept her eyes closed, praying the medication would kick in, that she wouldn’t humiliate herself any further. She wasn’t going to think about how unfair this was, how embarrassed she was at being seen as so weak, and how this proved that Mrs. Casey had been right about her.

  …

  Cade stood by the bed, never feeling more useless than he did right now. The fact that Sarah was in a fetal position was making him downright nervous, even though she’d mumbled she was fine. He’d had a handful of headaches in his life, usually the kind after a night of too much drinking when he was young, but barely even remembered having to take something for one.

  He carefully pulled the sheet and blanket over her, relieved that she didn’t flinch. Maybe the medication was working.

  He stood there for what must have been ten minutes, his hands in his pockets, his mind drifting back to places and memories he hadn’t visited in years. It was the pulling the blankets over a sleeping form, a still form, and even though Sarah wasn’t drunk passed out, it triggered the memory of him pulling one of the dirty blankets off the ground and covering his mother at the age of four. He remembered the panic in his stomach when she’d pass out, the anxiety of not knowing how to function in the house alone. But he always found a way. Usually when she slept he’d go around and try and clean up; that made him feel useful, made him hopeful that maybe she’d keep him instead of give him away to the dealer on the corner like she always threatened when he’d be bad.

  Cade blinked, wishing the moment away, wishing that it wasn’t part of his past. He’d come so far, yet in an instant he could be taken back to when he was helpless.

  He crossed the room and grabbed the vinyl-backed chair and, after wiping it down with a towel from the bathroom, sat down. He carefully propped his feet on the end corner of the bed, vigilant so as not to disturb Sarah. Maybe he’d fall asleep. But the chair was pretty damn uncomfortable, and the thoughts wouldn’t stop; he didn’t know why. He was pissed that he was being plagued by them now, after a night with an incredible woman.

  He swore silently and crossed the room, deciding to make himself a cup of coffee. Luckily, the cups were disposable and new, so he didn’t have to clean them out. As the coffee brewed, the dark liquid pouring into the cup, he thought of the coffee he’d made for his grandfather. Even though his grandfather had been negligent, at least he’d never hit him or gotten drunk or high when Cade was there.

  But Cade knew by the age of ten that if he didn’t make himself useful, he might not have a bed the next night. He made his grandfather breakfast before he went to school, and he’d clean up the little house every day after school and give his grandfather dinner. His favorite nights were when they sat on the same couch and ate cheese sandwiches and watched Little House on the Prairie reruns.

  His grandfather had loved that show and so had Cade, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. He’d always wondered what his grandfather had liked about it, because he was so different than the dad. Cade liked to imagine that one day he’d wake up and his grandfather would start acting like Mr. Ingalls. Of course, that never happened, and before he turned thirteen, he noticed his grandfather having difficulty putting sentences together. Cade would have to help him walk and later wash and clean up. His grandfather refused to go to the doctor, and Cade had dropped out of school that year to take care of him. They finally ended up in a hospital when his grandfather had turned violent and tried to hurt Cade in his sleep.

  Cade blinked when the ready light glowed on the single-serve coffee maker and picked up the steaming hot coffee. He didn’t want to think about those days anymore. He didn’t know who that kid was; he didn’t want to know him anymore. He didn’t talk about it with anyone and he didn’t think about it. It served no purpose because he couldn’t go back and change anything, and wishing things had been different would do him no good. Except right now, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  Day bled into night, gently, eerily, as his past bled into his future, Sarah’s deep, even breathing blending with his as he sat in the motel chair. He didn’t know why all this stuff was surfacing now when he’d been so good at keeping that part of his life deeply buried.

  He’d learned as a child that dreams were wishes that other kids made, not him. As he grew up, he learned that dreams could actually be goals, and the only people who could make those come true were the ones who worked for them. That’s when he’d decided to turn his life around. But it stopped there. He’d been content in that place where his old dreams had been fulfilled—make enough money to never have to depend on anyone else, make enough that you had savings in the bank for a rainy day or could help a friend in need. Make enough for a roof over your head and clothes on your back.

  Then last year, it was like he’d outgrown those goals, and this longing in his gut had begun, that maybe there was more. Maybe there was more that the people he’d been raised by had never known or been sober enough to even imagine. Maybe there was a woman, a woman who could challenge him, who could make him a better man. Someone he would want more than just physically, who would stir something deep down inside him, who would inspire him into wanting to be a better version of himself, a woman he could see an entirely different future with…and that scared the living shit out of him. He’d held on to this good-enough life as though he’d hit the jackpot, because ten years ago, it was the jackpot, and who was he to ever want more than this? He’d already surpassed everyone in his family by miles.

  What was the kid cleaning up filth instead of going to school doing wishing for something with a woman like Sarah?

  Spending this weekend with her made him wish his past were different, that his parents were different. He wished he had someone to bring her home to, something to offer her, another story to tell her. As it was, his wasn’t a story he could share. He knew that the place he came from was nothing Sarah would have ever been exposed to. None of his friends would ever understand the dysfunction or the poverty.

  When Tyler had come back after leaving Wishing River for eight years, Cade had been the hardest on him. He knew that deep down, he had issues with people just taking off on him. He swore he’d never forgive Tyler for just leaving them all in the dark like they didn’t matter. It had happened too many times in his life.

  Crossing the room, he made sure he was as silent as possible and that Sarah was still sleeping soundly. He sat back down in his chair and put his feet up, taking a sip of coffee. He stayed there for what must have been an hour before he started dozing. Just as he was nodding off, a text came in from the bookkeeper at Joshua Ranch: I can meet with you next week when I’m back in town. Your suspi
cions were correct.

  Cade swore softly in the silent room. He didn’t want his suspicions to be correct. He stared at the woman sleeping soundly in the bed, listened to her soft, even breathing, and he knew—he wanted more for her.

  But even worse, he found himself wishing that he was the one who could give it to her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sarah slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times. It was dark, and it took a moment for her to figure out that she was still in the motel room. She turned to find Cade sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the bed, his eyes closed. The light on the alarm clock read eight o’clock. Panic filled her. She’d been asleep for almost ten hours?

  She scrambled off the bed to use the bathroom. A few minutes later, she splashed cold water across her face and finger-combed her hair. At least the migraine was gone. She took a deep breath and tried to squash the embarrassment as she remembered what had happened this morning.

  Slowly opening the door a few minutes later, she was surprised to see that Cade was now standing, the curtains open as he brewed coffee. “Feeling better?” he asked, looking rumpled, his voice slightly raspy.

  “Much. Sorry. I feel horrible that this happened and you were stuck here, sleeping in a chair.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just use the bathroom, and then we can get going,” he said, walking by her.

  When the door shut, Sarah looked around the room. This had been her attempt at a real life, and look what had happened. Why couldn’t she just be like a normal person and do what normal people did when alone in a hotel room with the hottest person in the world?

  She flop-sat on the edge of the bed. What had she done? Oh, she’d become helpless and had to be tucked into bed. She didn’t even have any friends to talk to about this. She groaned thinking about what Mrs. Casey would say when she returned. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to lie. Nothing had happened. Nothing ever happened to Sarah.

  “Ready to go?” Cade said, walking out of the bathroom.

  She bolted off the bed. “Yup. I feel great. Like nothing ever happened.”

  He grimaced. “You don’t have to lie. You were practically comatose for ten hours, and you don’t exactly look great.”

  She crossed her arms. “Okay, I’m totally fine now.”

  He gave her a slow nod and then proceeded to rumple her hair, like one would do to a dog, when passing by. Humiliation stung deep, and she kept her back turned to him as he opened the door. She should just turn around, follow him back to the truck, and pretend like nothing was wrong, that it was normal to have a weekend like they just did.

  “You look like you’re ready to bash your fist through a wall,” he said with a slight smile when she didn’t budge.

  Great. So now he thought she had anger management issues, too. “No, no. Everything’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. It was a great weekend.”

  She didn’t know if it was the slightly shrill tinge to her tone that made even her cringe or maybe the panic, but he stopped, shut the door, and turned around. She wasn’t going to lie to herself, but the man standing in front of her was probably the best thing she’d ever seen in her life; he was the best thing she’d ever experienced, and he was also the best listener and was funny and—

  Disgruntled.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked flatly.

  She tucked a few pieces of hair behind her ear and tried to look nonchalant. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Let’s go.” She took her purse from the chair and walked by him, angry with herself for not being able to articulate her frustration.

  He grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly holding on. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  His voice had softened slightly, but she stared straight ahead, reading the fire emergency plan on the back of the door because it was easier than facing him and telling him what she was feeling.

  “Are you still sick?”

  She shook her head and met his gaze. “No, I’m fine. I’m sorry, Cade. This was all so stupid. Thank you for putting up with this disaster of a weekend and basically sitting in the dark for the day. That was above and beyond, truly.”

  He dropped her hand and took a step so that he was standing directly in front of her. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. It’s not like I had wild plans this weekend anyway.”

  Wild plans. She wondered what kind of wild plans he had on other weekends. Her wild plans consisted of staying up until midnight. “Do you, um, normally have wild plans?”

  He grinned, his shoulders relaxing and the sparkle in his eyes returning. “Sometimes.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yep. I have access to the outside world via social media, you know.” The minute she said that, she regretted it. It made her sound even sadder than her questioning him about his wild plans. Who says they have access to the outside world via social media? She needed to leave this room and never see him again…until Monday morning. There was no escaping him.

  “Sarah, what’s going on?”

  “I didn’t expect our night to go like this.”

  “How did you expect our night to go?”

  Heat burned up her neck and flooded her face. “Well, I mean— I just… Not like this.”

  “I don’t think we can ever have more than this,” he said, his voice thick.

  Her gaze went to his mouth, and she wanted to kiss him again. Desperately. And then she wondered how many people he’d kissed, how many nights in motels he’d spent, how many women there had been. He hadn’t answered her last night, and she didn’t push because, really, it wasn’t her business.

  “Then why did you agree to come?” she asked.

  “Because you needed a friend. You needed to go somewhere other than that damn ranch. You haven’t lived a life, so as a friend, I thought I’d help.”

  Couldn’t be any clearer than that. But he’d said he wanted her, he’d acted like he wanted her. Everything about last night had been so real. She hadn’t been living in reality for so long. She’d been stuck in this place that avoided the harsh truth, and she never wanted to go back there. “What if no one knew? What if this was just our thing?”

  His jaw clenched for a moment. “I’m not going to hide. So that leaves us with no options.”

  “You can just…shut off your feelings? That easily?”

  He hung his head back for a moment. “No, I’m not shutting anything off, believe me. It takes a hell of a lot of self-control.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Really?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Not so obvious. Like, um, yesterday? When you were crying about the pillow that I might throw at you—”

  His lips twitched, but he stayed right where he was. “Yes?”

  “It looked like you had no problem lying on top of me and being really close to me and then rolling away. Is that what normally happens in motel rooms with you? You just…stop?”

  This time, he did close the distance between them, and her back was to the wall, and the wall of Cade was in front of her. His lips were still slightly curled into a smile but his eyes glittered with the same heat she’d seen yesterday, the one that made her limbs feel heavy, that made her heart race. “What do you think?”

  She quickly averted her gaze because, judging by the gleam in his eyes, he was torn between laughing at her and doing some kind of demo, which she wasn’t entirely opposed to at the moment. Who was she kidding? She’d welcome the demo with everything she had. How had she gotten herself into this mess? Her big mouth, her inability to have normal, adult conversations with the opposite sex. Maybe it wasn’t even the opposite sex; maybe it was just conversations with people in general.

  She shifted her gaze back to Cade’s and frantically tried to buy herself some time. “Did you, um, ask me something?”

  This time, he gave her a slow, lazy
grin, one that she was pretty sure must be illegal. “I believe you were asking me what I do in motel rooms, and then I asked you to tell me what you thought I did in motel rooms. Then your face went red, with a couple of white blotches here and here,” he said, lightly touching two spots on her face.

  She tried to swat him away, but he caught her hand, laughing, and kissed the inside of her palm. Her breath caught, words caught somewhere between her heart and her mouth. “So that’s, um, what you do?” she managed.

  “I don’t have a set of rehearsed moves.”

  She pursed her lips. “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do,” he said, his voice husky, the teasing tone slowly leaving, being replaced by one that made her desperate to learn more about him. “If you had reached out for me, I wouldn’t have been able to pull back. I wouldn’t have been able to resist you even though we can never happen.”

  Her heart raced uncontrollably in her chest, and she was torn between clinging to her pride and laying it all out there. She wanted him in every possible way, and she didn’t want to think about what that would mean for them tomorrow. She was tired of tomorrow. Tomorrow hadn’t served her in more than ten years. Every single tomorrow was the same—a lonely, sad place that was filled with the past. “Just tonight.”

  His face went still. “What are you talking about? Be clear.”

  She frowned at him, because she wasn’t thrilled with that tone or the demand. “I mean…I know you don’t want to hide anything long-term, but maybe we can be more than friends just once and no one would ever have to know?”

  He didn’t say anything for a long while, and her heart was racing. “Tell me exactly what you want,” he finally said.

  “I want you. I want you here, in this dingy motel room, on the questionable sheets, to make love to me.”

  He ran both hands down his face, and when he looked at her again, it seemed as though he was being ripped in two. “Have you ever slept with anyone before?”