The Trouble with Cowboys Page 22

  She would work on stopping tomorrow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. Well, he did know. He missed Lainey. He wanted Lainey. It was impossible for him to not want her. And he cared for her. He wasn’t going to let her go home from the bar alone, regardless of the fact that she wouldn’t sleep with him. They could be friends. Yes, that’s what they would be. He was helping a friend. So here they were. All alone.

  In a way, it was good she had declared some kind of life of celibacy. It would keep things platonic between them. That was good. Why didn’t it feel good?

  She unlocked her apartment door, and all he wanted to do was taste her again. He’d missed her so much. But he wasn’t going to. He was going to leave. He was going to be the good guy.

  “Ty?” she whispered.

  He stood in the doorway, telling himself not to close it, not to watch her as she took off her jacket. “Yeah?”

  “I missed you,” she whispered, her brown eyes shining with the emotion he understood, the emotion he hated in himself.

  All thoughts of celibacy and platonic relationships vanished, and he stepped forward, shutting the door with his foot and cupping her face and kissing her like she was his last breath. And just like in every dream he’d had about her, she made one of those little sounds and kissed him back, clutching his body for dear life. He backed them against the door. She was running her hands up his chest and then through his hair. He lifted her, his hands cupping her deliciously rounded butt. He turned them so that her back was against the door, her curves pressed against his chest.

  He had no idea what the hell they were going to do, because there was only one way he wanted this to end, and it was out of the question. He reminded himself of that as he unbuttoned her shirt, his knuckles grazing her breasts, feeling her trembling beneath his touch.

  “Oh Gosh, Ty,” she breathed against his mouth.

  “I know,” he said, kissing her as he cupped her breasts. They filled his hands and then some, and he knew he was going to have to keep his head screwed on straight and this would have to end very soon. She clutched fistfuls of his hair as he dipped his head and brought a nipple into his mouth. He moved his hands down to the tops of her thighs, keeping her braced against the door.

  She moaned his name, and he knew he had to stop. He had to stop the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  He slowly raised his head, and she looked at him, dazed, her lips full and red as a whimper escaped her mouth. He clenched his teeth tightly and slowly lowered her to the ground, holding on a minute longer as they regained their composure.

  “I’m sorry,” he said roughly.

  She shook her head. “It’s my fault.”

  “It’s not. I actually don’t think we can be in the same room together without combusting.”

  “I think I may need to reevaluate my position on having sex.”

  “Well, make sure I’m first to get the memo.” He almost laughed as he handed her the shirt that he’d tossed to the ground. She held it against herself.

  “Sure.”

  “Maybe we’ll just have to stay away from each other,” he said, backing up a step and watching her with a hunger he didn’t know how to hide.

  “Sure. That’s a plan. I have to get up early tomorrow anyway,” she said, turning her back and straightening her clothes. He didn’t want to talk, but it was the right thing to do.

  “Right. Church.”

  “Actually, no, it’s because of Sundays at the diner.”

  Shit. That didn’t sit right. “Right. How long are you going to be able to keep that up?”

  She crossed her arms and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure. It’s a good opportunity for some more business. There’s next to nothing open for brunch on a Sunday.”

  Tilly’s was always busy. He couldn’t believe she needed to stay open seven days a week. Unless she needed the money for her art. “That’s too many hours a week. How are you going to paint?”

  She shrugged and forced a smile that was so fake he wondered if she was hiding how bad her finances really were. “Ty, I have no life. I still have evenings.”

  “So, like, after nine and before six a.m. when you aren’t in the diner?”

  “I’m young, remember? I can work long hours without it affecting me.”

  He wasn’t buying the deflection. “Are you having problems with your roof? Can I help you? I’m not done with the books because the ranch has been keeping me so busy, but I’m sure there’s some money—”

  She held up her hand, and he caught the wobble of her chin. “I’m fine, thank you. I remember you and your mom at church,” she said, the drastic change in subject sending off alarm bells. Or she was just too damn proud to ask for help. He was going to get that check issued for the commission off the weekend with the bachelorette party ASAP. He should have already done that.

  “She’d always sit near the front,” she continued.

  He stared at her for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to pursue the money thing or let her deflect. But he knew what self-preservation looked like, and it was stamped on every gorgeous inch of her body. So who was he to deny her that dignity? He wasn’t her boyfriend.

  He cleared his throat and let her lead him down memory lane, curious to hear her stories about a past they were both a part of in different ways, from very different angles. He gave her a nod. “She was pretty faithful. She said sitting at the front was much more exciting. I didn’t really find any of it exciting,” he said.

  She laughed. “Yeah. That’s nice. My grandmother made me go, too.”

  He gave a nod, uncomfortable talking about this.

  “I used to go with her every Sunday.”

  “Yeah, I went to keep my mother company, too. I always felt guilty when I tried to get out of it and then think of her standing there alone.”

  “Me too!” She laughed. “My grandmother would lay it on really thick.”

  He smiled. “It’s a mom thing, I guess.”

  She nodded. “I stopped going for a while after my grandmother died.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “It hurt too much. I didn’t like being there alone, because it just reminded me of everything I’d lost and all the people who weren’t in my life anymore.”

  He was pretty selfish, he realized. Lainey was one of those people you just assumed had it all together all the time. She knew what she wanted out of life, and she stuck to it. But every now and then she’d throw pieces of her life into conversation, and he’d wonder how the hell she’d turned out so damn normal. No parents. Just one eccentric grandmother.

  He cleared his throat and continued speaking even though he didn’t really like talking about his mother. “I know what you mean. I haven’t stepped foot inside a church since my mother’s funeral.”

  “Really?”

  He gave a nod. “You…started going back?”

  She shrugged. “I go. Well, I guess I was until the Sunday diner thing. But it’s not the same. It’s lonely,” she whispered, breaking eye contact with him. “It still reminds me of the people who are gone. It’s like a double-edged sword. I go there and feel closer to them. I can light a candle and say a prayer, but those are just times gone by. I’ll never be able to get them back. Really, I shouldn’t say ‘them’…because I barely knew my mother. But I knew my grandmother.”

  He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Maybe that’s why he never went back. It was too painful to go to a place he associated with his mother without her. It hurt thinking about those days, about how everything was fine. He’d thought everything in his family was as it appeared. Hell, he’d been so wrong.

  “Sorry, this is boring conversation, isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s stuff we don’t always put into words.” He stopped talking for a moment and studied her, taking her in. “My mother would have liked you, Lainey.”

  Tears appeared in her eyes. “Tha
nk you,” she whispered. “I think Tilly would have liked you, too, despite her warning about cowboys.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Warning?”

  She nodded. “She was married for a bit—not long. But she was married to her own cowboy. Said he was more handsome than anyone she’d ever met. Almost charmed the underpants off her before marriage,” she said with a laugh.

  He smiled. “What happened?”

  “Apparently he tried to hit her.”

  “Man.”

  “Don’t worry. Tilly knocked him down the stairs.”

  He smiled. “Good for her.”

  “Yeah. She kicked him out, and that was the end. She ran her restaurant and raised my mother as a single parent. But she would always warn me about trusting cowboys. She’d say, ‘Lainey, I’m going to tell you something that you’re not going to be able to understand until you’re older, but I want you to remember this: Never fall for a cowboy, because the trouble with cowboys is that they’ll rope you in with their charm and you’ll forget who you are and what you stand for.’”

  Well thanks, Tilly. He didn’t say anything for a moment, wondering if he needed to defend himself. “I wouldn’t say we’re all that bad. I mean, I might have to agree with the charm, but I don’t think it’s a universal trait.”

  She burst out laughing, and he smiled at the sound, at the way her face lit up. “You know you’ve got it.”

  “Is that right?” he said, still smiling even though the mood shifted like the wind before a fast-moving storm.

  Her smile dipped, and her face flushed. “Well, I’m not sure, really, because I never actually noticed any charm or anything like that.”

  He took a step closer, hearing the audible catch of her breath. “No, I think you just admitted that I’ve got it, and I think Grandma Tilly might have actually been wrong.”

  She frowned. “How so?”

  “You managed to remember who you are and what you stand for,” he said.

  Her gaze darted from his eyes to his mouth, and her pulse was racing at the base of her throat, and he knew, he knew she felt the same. “Lainey,” he said, raising his hand to frame the one side of her face. So when he took that final step in to her, when her soft body made contact with his, when he lowered his head to inches from hers, when their mouths hovered so close together, he promised himself he’d walk away before things went too far.

  “Ty,” she whispered, one of her hands clutching a fistful of his shirt. At first, he didn’t know if she was going to push him away, but just as he was lowering his head, she held on tight and pulled him in. Lainey reeled him in, and he was a goner. When his mouth found hers, he knew, he knew there would never be enough Lainey for him.

  “Good night, Lainey,” he said, using every ounce of willpower to pull away.

  She bit her lower lip and quickly smoothed her hair. “Right. Thanks for bringing me home; it was really nice of you.”

  They were being way too polite. Like strangers. But maybe that would be the only way for them now. “Right. I’ll, uh, see you around. We’re both busy anyway.”

  She nodded, giving him a bright smile that seemed so forced. “For sure. Oh, but I need to follow up on that portrait you promised me.”

  He groaned. He’d forgotten all about that silly bargain.

  “See you tomorrow, Ty.” And she closed the door with a soft click.

  So much for his plan to stay away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lainey waited on the porch of the main house at the ranch for Tyler to come home. She could see him walking toward her in the distance. Goose bumps scattered along her arms at the sight, the barn behind him, the mountains in the distance. She grabbed her phone and started snapping pictures before he noticed. His battered hat was hanging low, and his strong body was showcased in muddy jeans and shirt. As he came closer, he lifted his head, and his blue eyes met hers.

  “I’m here for my picture.”

  He stopped walking and hung his head back on his shoulders. She tried to swallow her laugh. “I need a shower,” he said as he rounded the corner to the porch.

  “Nope, you’re absolutely perfect.”

  He gave her a grin that made her stomach flutter.

  “Seriously,” she said. “I need you to walk back out there. A few yards away from me, toward the barn.”

  “Lainey, I’m wiped. I want to take a shower.”

  “A deal’s a deal, Tyler. I’ll be quick. Five minutes.”

  She might have heard him mutter something about being a ball-breaker, but she wasn’t sure. He did as instructed but then turned around. “I don’t get what kind of a portrait this is, if I’m not even facing the camera.”

  “Well, walk out a bit farther, and then I want you to turn your head and look at me,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes and proceeded to walk.

  “Can you, like, find a piece of hay and put it in your mouth?” she yelled.

  He turned around slowly. “No.”

  She sighed. He was very difficult. “Fine. Walk. I’ll tell you when to stop and look at me.”

  He gave her a salute and started walking again. The sun was setting, and the sky was streaked with ribbons of purple and pink. As soon as Tyler stepped into its glow, she called out for him to stop. “Now look at me over your shoulder,” she yelled.

  He turned slowly, his blue eyes looking directly at her. She took her time focusing, then clicked in quick succession. Her breath caught at the beauty in his roughened, work-worn appearance, at the strong lines of his jaw. She wanted to catch the shades of blue in his eyes, the stubble on his face, the expression that she loved. She had been so right about him; he was so paintable. She stared at the stubble across the perfect jawline. Nope. Right into those stunning baby blues. Oh, she was such toast. She cleared her throat. She definitely had her inspiration and knew she’d start her sketch tonight. She put her camera down. “Okay, done,” she said, her voice coming out slightly strangled.

  He walked back toward her and stopped at the bottom porch step. “How are you?” he asked, his voice slightly impersonal. She tried not to take it personally. They had said they were going to steer clear of each other, that they didn’t know what they were. But as she stood there, she knew she was in love with him. She had known for a long time. The night in his cabin, the night at River’s, the night in her apartment. But he didn’t want what she wanted.

  “Good. I’m good. Just busy with the diner…and now my painting,” she said, forcing a bright smile.

  He gave her a nod. “That’s good. Uh, that reminds me—there’s an envelope on the kitchen table with your name on it. It’s the commission for the bachelorette weekend.”

  Thank goodness. “Great. I might have another group for next month. Hopefully we can start getting more regular business,” she said. The money she owed him was weighing heavily on her. She hated that she hadn’t told him, but she couldn’t, not until she had all the money repaid.

  “Sure. Don’t worry—I know you have a lot on your plate.”

  She nodded, fidgeting with the strap on her camera. “I think I’m going to go in and say hi to your dad before I leave. I have dinner for him…and I have some for you, too.”

  He nodded. “You don’t have to bring me dinner, but thanks. I’ll probably just eat with the guys from now on.”

  “Oh…oh, of course. Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Make yourself one of them. Sure, that makes sense.” She hated herself right now. He was turning her down in every which way.

  “I, uh, I’ll head out to my cabin, then, give you a chance to talk to my dad.”

  She kept her smile even though it ached. “Great. Have a good night.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, but she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. “You too.”

  She turned quickly, ready to go inside, to be away from him. She had no idea what the plan was. She needed to get to work on her own dreams. First was the picture. It was kind of unfortunate that the
subject of her picture was the man she was supposed to not be thinking about. Not the brightest plan. She opened the door.

  “Lainey,” he said.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. His eyes were shadowed beneath his hat. “Yes?”

  He opened his mouth. “Uh, just, thanks. See you around.”

  She nodded and walked into the house. She knew this wasn’t the end for her and Tyler, but she wasn’t going to force him into having a relationship with her. She had too much pride for that.

  Mrs. Busby came out to greet her. She was all smiles, and her cheeks were glowing.

  “Well hello, dear! Martin and I were just talking about you,” she said, grabbing the takeout tray from Lainey’s hands and walking into the kitchen.

  “You were?” Lainey asked, following her.

  She nodded. “Should I warm this up?” she asked, taking the lid off the roast beef special.

  “I think it’s still hot,” she said.

  Mrs. Busby arranged it nicely on a plate and handed it to her. “Here you go. You have a nice chat with Martin. I need to get back to town; I’m meeting my ladies for poker night.”

  Lainey swallowed her laugh. “Okay, you have fun.”

  “Will do, dear,” she said and hustled out of the kitchen. Lainey walked into the living room, pleased to see Martin with a healthier glow. She noticed the curtains and window were open, and a nice breeze floated through the room. It smelled fresh and clean. The furniture was dusted, and the dark wood gleamed. It was probably closer to how it had been when his wife was alive.

  “Hi, Lainey,” he said, slowly enunciating the words.

  “It’s so great to hear your voice again,” Lainey said, sitting down beside him.

  He smiled at her and accepted the plate. “It’s good to speak again,” he said. His voice was slurred and slow, but it was wonderful progress. He started eating, carefully bringing the food to his mouth. “Maybe no more rented hospital bed soon.”

  She squeezed his hand gently. “You’ll get there.”

  “Thank you for being so good to me,” he said in between forkfuls of food. She smiled at him, happy that his hand was steady as he ate.