Cowboy Take Me Away (3 page)

“That’s the thing. I haven’t been lookin’.” He twisted a strand of blonde silk around his finger. “Then I saw you.”

“And…what? You thought I looked like I’d be good with cattle? Or that I’d be a good cook? Or I wouldn’t mind living hand to mouth? Or I had wide enough hips to birth a bunch of ranch hands? That makes no sense.”

“Now you’re getting it. It doesn’t make a lick of sense that when I saw you standing up at the bar I imagined wakin’ up to you every morning for the rest of my life.”

Her jaw nearly hit the ground. Then she managed, “You did?”

“Umm-hmm.” He tickled her lips with the end of her hair. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be nineteen this summer. How old are you?” she asked.

Old enough to know better.
“Twenty-four.” He dropped his hand and retreated.

Carolyn snatched his forearm, holding him in place. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me with regret.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.” Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Besides, I liked the way you were looking at me before you asked how old I was.”

Definitely a spark there. “And how was that?”

“Like it didn’t matter. Like you wanted to strip me bare and go wild on me.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

Carson angled his head closer to hers. “Ever been nekkid with a man, sugar?”

“No.” She paused. “I’ve thought about it.” Her wide blue eyes locked on his. “I’ve thought about it a lot more since I met you.”

Holy hell this woman was killing him. She had no idea how sexy the combination of bold, innocent and honest was to a man like him. “Oh yeah?” He slid his hand up her arm and across her shoulder to cup her neck. “You gonna take another swing at me if I take this pretty mouth the way I want to?”

She lowered her lashes and stared at his lips.

Enough answer for him.

Carson tipped her head back and fused his mouth to hers.

This time she parted her lips and her breath exploded in his mouth. Her tongue sought his, boldly stroking and twining around his. Giving him a complete taste of her. She used her teeth to nip, her tongue to explore. Her lips were soft and yielding, then firm and demanding.

The kiss blew his mind. While there was no denying their attraction, this immediate passion between them caught him off guard. As did her complete abandonment to it.

He lifted her off the tailgate and pressed her against the rear quarter panel, keeping one arm behind her back and the other hand curled at the nape of her neck.

Carolyn’s hands clutched his shirt as she tried to pull him closer.

Finally, he had to take a breath that wasn’t saturated with her taste and her scent. He moved his lips from the corner of her mouth down to the arch of her neck. “Damn,” he panted against her throat.

“Are you okay?”

He dragged an openmouthed kiss up the smooth section of skin, stopping at her ear. “No, I’m not okay. I’m wantin’ way more than a kiss, so I’m thinkin’ we should just go ahead, hop in the truck and find us someone who’ll marry us tonight.”

She laughed softly. Then she planted kisses along his jaw, her breath whispering across his damp flesh, eliciting his shiver.

He spun them and leaned his back against the truck, wanting her soft curves pressing into him, wanting his hands on her luscious ass.

A wolf whistle rent the air. “Take it inside the truck, McKay,” someone shouted.

Carson scowled at his drinking buddy. “Move along, Tucker.”

“Looks like you’re the one who’s movin’ pretty fast.”

Assholes.

“McKay?” she repeated. “Your last name is McKay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Carolyn stepped back. “I don’t believe this.”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I can explain—”

“You can’t.”

He followed her, hating the wariness that had replaced the heat in her eyes. “At least let me try.”

“Ask me my last name.”

Annoyed by the abrupt change in her, he said, “Fine, Carolyn, what’s your last name?”

“West.”

That stopped him. “What?”

“I’m Carolyn West.”

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

She shook her head. “My dad is Elijah—Eli—West.”

Carson had heard that name several times, always attached to a vile string of curses and a rant the likes of which he’d never heard from his closemouthed father. He’d warned his sons to stay far away from all members of the West family. He and his brothers tried to ask questions, but the old man had shut them down without explaining his reasons. Carson had put it out of his mind.

Then a few years ago he’d crossed paths with Harland West, proudly proclaiming himself Eli West’s oldest son. The loud mouth started talking shit about the “mighty McKays” in the feed store in Moorcroft. Most of what the man shouted at him made zero sense—he’d blathered on about lies, bribes, blood money and theft—but Carson wasn’t about to let it slide. They’d ended up in a knock-down, drag-out fight that left both of them bleeding and pissed off.

A year or so later, he’d run afoul of Darren West at Brass Tacks, a bar in the Wests’ neck of the woods. Words were exchanged, fists went flying and they were both arrested for drunk and disorderly.

That hadn’t gone over well with Jed McKay.

After the ass chewing on a whole new level, Carson became suspicious of why his father refused to talk about the past issues between the McKays and the Wests. He didn’t give a damn if his grandfather—who he’d never met—had wronged the West patriarch or vice versa. He suspected even his father wasn’t sure what’d gone down years ago, which made no sense as to why the man held a grudge.

But those West assholes held a grudge too.

Pissed him off that they used their family’s history of bad blood as an excuse to come after the McKays now. That changed Carson’s I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude. He’d jumped into the fray with both boots. So the mention of a younger West sister hadn’t come up when Carson had been trying to beat the fuck out of Harland and Darren West.

Carolyn’s brothers.

Fuck.

The fact Carson wanted Carolyn West with every breath in his body wouldn’t go over well with his father either.

And he didn’t give a damn.

Carolyn said, “I have to go.”

His gaze flipped to her. “Don’t leave. Let’s talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to say—”

“You really runnin’ away from me because my last name is McKay?”

“Why else would I…” That strong chin went up a notch and she crossed her arms over a pair of impressive breasts. “I’m not running away from you, Carson McKay.”

“Prove it.”

“How? By coming over there and kissing you?”

Carson grinned. “Not what I was gonna suggest, but sugar, I’ll take more of them sweet and hot kisses anytime you wanna give them to me.”

“What was your suggestion?”

“Meet me here tomorrow night.”

“I can’t.”

“See? Runnin’ from me.”

“No, I have family obligations.”

He raised an eyebrow. “On a Friday night?”

“Not everyone can go out and tear it up every night of the week like wild-living cowboys—excuse me—
ranchers
,” she retorted.

Carson started toward her. “Whatcha gonna be doin’ tomorrow night? Got a date?”

“None of your business.”

The thought of some other guy picking her up, touching her, talking to her, tasting her sweet lips made him growl, “Tell me.”

“Stop pestering me about this.”

“Not a chance.” By the time he reached her, she’d started studying her shoes. He tipped her chin up. “Talk to me. No bullshit.”

“I’m afraid you’ll laugh.”

“Never.”

“My dad gets paid on Fridays. He gives me money and I buy groceries for the week. So my Friday night is spent at the grocery store. Exciting, huh?”

“Your dad really is tryin’ to turn you into a nun, isn’t he?”

“Because I’m not out at the bars on a Friday night?”

“Because he’s got you believin’ that a beautiful, single woman shouldn’t mind grocery shopping alone on a Friday night.”

Carolyn closed her eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I do. You’re expected to take care of your family when you’re home. No shame in steppin’ up to your responsibilities and takin’ pride in what you do. But the fact you’re here tonight shows me you’ve carved out at least a little free time.” He stroked her cheek. “And I want you to spend that free time with me.”

“Carson—”

“Think on it. Please.”

He didn’t move until she gave him a grudging, “Okay.”

Then he forced himself to walk away from her. He’d give her a week to make a decision. After that, he was going after her.

“Mr. McKay?”

He’d been so deep in the memory he hadn’t heard Nurse Lissa approach. “Yes?”

“Let’s get you suited up.” As she helped him dress she detailed the protective outwear he’d have to put on every time, even for a five minute visit.

“You’ll have a few minutes alone with your wife before the twenty-four-hour isolation begins.”

Carson approached the bed, his stomach in knots, his heart so heavy he swore that it was what made his feet move so slowly and not this hazardous materials suit he wore.

He clasped her hand in both of his, hating how cold her skin was, hating the layer of latex between them. His gaze encompassed her beautiful face. He wanted to kiss her. Or at least put his lips on her forehead and bathe his lungs in her scent. Or press his mouth to the side of her throat, hoping to feel that familiar way her pulse leapt whenever he kissed her there—even after almost fifty years together.

But he settled for a light stroke on her cheek. “Sugar, don’t leave me. I can’t live without you—I ain’t even gonna try.” Emotion choked him so his words were barely above a whisper. But she needed to hear him, because he had no doubt she
could
hear him. The plastic face shield covering the lower half of his face required him to speak louder. “I’m here. Right here, right beside you where I’ve always been and where I’m always gonna be. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I love you. Come back to me. Please.”

He forced himself to move before his tears fell. Wouldn’t want to give her an infection. He probably had rust in his tear ducts.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried.

Chapter Three

Carolyn

Come back to me. Please.

God. The man sounded so forlorn.

Why? Carson McKay never sounded like that.

Carson, honey, I’m right here.

Wait. Where was here? Where was she?

And why couldn’t she see anything?

Wake up, wake up, wake up. You’re in a dream.

But her eyes wouldn’t open.

Come back to me. Please.

Come back…from this dream?

She listened but couldn’t hear his voice.

Carson?

A loud click echoed.

Was that the sound of a door closing? Where was it coming from?

Carolyn followed the sound and floated down the pathways of her mind. Doors of all sizes loomed before her.

One of these doors had to lead back to her current reality. She shouldn’t have retreated when they started jamming tubes in her nose and throat. But it was loud and painful—surely she wasn’t dead if she could still feel pain?—and she’d hidden in the shadows of her mind.

But now, the deeper into her mind she traveled, the lighter it’d become.

So many doors.

Then she noticed one door was ajar.

Maybe it was the exit? Could she escape her subconscious?

The door made no noise when she opened it.

She found herself in her mother’s bedroom, sucked back in time to early summer the year she’d graduated from high school.

The morning after the night she’d met Carson McKay…

“Don’t hover in the doorway, child, come in.” Her mother scooted over and patted the bed. “Sit. Tell me about the dance last night.”

Carolyn settled on the twin bed and reached for her mother’s hand. The arthritis had gotten so bad in the last couple of years her fingers were claw-like and almost useless. It killed her to see her mother bedridden, to see the listlessness in her eyes from the amount of medicine she took to deal with the pain.

But her stoic mother wouldn’t complain.

“
Liebchen
,” she said softly. “Talk to me.”

Liebchen
. Her mother had always called Carolyn her little sweetheart—it was one of the few German words her mother still used.

She forced a smile. “Beverly took off with Michael about half an hour after we got there.”

Her mother clucked her tongue. “That girl is fast. Michael will get what he wants from her and move on.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He leaves for basic training at the end of the summer and as soon as he’s done they’re getting married.”

“Ach. She’s too young.” She shifted on the bed. “Did Beverly introduce you to anyone?”

The image of Carson McKay’s perfect face flashed in her mind and she felt her cheeks heat. His good looks aside, he was so much…more than the boys she’d gone to school with. The only trace of boyishness in him was in that dimpled smile and the devilry twinkling in his dark blue eyes. The rest of him was all man—wide shoulders, broad chest, strong arms, rough-skinned hands. An earthy mix of sun and soil and soap emanated from him; an irresistible musk that tempted her to rest her face in the crook of his neck and just breathe him in.

“You did meet someone.”

Carolyn blushed.

“What’s his name?”

“Carson. He’s a little sure of himself, but that’s probably because he’s so good-looking.”

“Did he ask to see you again?”

She finally met her mother’s gaze. “Yes. But I kind of ran off after…”

Her mother’s brown eyes sharpened. “Did he try something with you?”

“No. We were outside just talking—”
you’ll go to hell for lying
, “—and someone shouted to get his attention. That’s when I learned his last name is McKay.”

Silence.

Carolyn looked down as she traced the frayed ends of the yarn ties holding the eyelet and satin quilt together.

The air seemed to stretch so thin she had a hard time breathing. Finally, she blurted, “But don’t worry. I’ll stay away from him.”

“He knows…?”

“That my father is Elijah West? Yes.”

“How were things between you before you learned each other’s last names?”

She smiled, remembering the man’s audacity. “Carson told me he was gonna marry me.”

Her mother raised both eyebrows. “You mean he asked to marry you?”

“No. He said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and we oughta skip all the dating stuff and get married.” She suspected he’d only been half kidding. Although Carson had seemed ready to run when she’d told him she was eighteen. But that kiss, that glorious kiss had changed his mind.

It’d changed everything.

She’d kissed a few boys over the years. Even if she’d made out with a hundred guys nothing could’ve prepared her for kissing a man like Carson McKay. Nothing. Carson was heat and passion. When he’d pressed his hard body against hers? She finally understood Beverly’s claim about need overtaking reason.

“
Liebchen
.”

Carolyn’s head snapped up guiltily. “Sorry. I know—”

“I think you’d like to get to know him better.”

“I can’t.”

“Nonsense.”

Shocked, she stammered, “B-but—”

“Whatever is between your father and Carson’s father is their issue. Not yours. Not Carson’s. You’re an adult. You’re allowed to make your own decisions. If you want to spend time with Carson? That is your business.”

“And what happens when Dad finds out? He might kick me out.”

“I won’t let that happen. I promise.”

Her mother had never stood up to her father. If Carolyn pursued something with Carson McKay she’d be totally on her own, with no support.

Like that’d be anything new.

Carolyn managed a fake smile. “I’ve found some patterns I’d like your opinion on.”

“Clothes for you?”

“Yes.”

“New clothes you can wear on your dates with Carson McKay?” her mom asked with a sly smile.

“Mom. Give it up.”

“Never. Now show me what you’re working with.”

Late Saturday afternoon, Marshall, Stuart and Thomas, Carolyn’s three brothers who still lived at home, traipsed into the kitchen.

“I love it when you’re home for the summer,” Thomas said, sniffing the air. “We get decent meals for a change.”

Marshall and Stuart each punched him in the arm.

“Ouch! I’m only telling the truth.”

“Truth is, you can’t cook worth shit, Thomas, so it’s worse for us when it’s
your
night to cook.” Marshall lifted the lid on the pot on the stove. “Sausage and cabbage smells good, sis.”

“It’s done. Wash up and we’ll eat.”

Stuart sidled up beside her. “Has Mom eaten yet?”

“She was hungry earlier so I sat with her while she ate. She’s resting.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Does she ever come to the table?”

“Nope. She eats in her room or she doesn’t eat. That’s her choice, not ours.”

Marshall snatched two slices of bread off the cutting board. “Ma especially doesn’t eat when Thomas cooks.”

“I told you guys I’d rather be on dish duty every night. But that is another bonus of having our sister home. She cooks
and
cleans up.”

None of them disputed Thomas’s statement. As much as she loved her brothers, the instant she’d stepped foot in the house, they’d abandoned their regular duties and she’d become cook, cleaner, gardener, laundress and parental caretaker.

Carolyn took her usual seat at the table and looked at each of her brothers until they set down their utensils and bowed their heads in prayer. “Thank you, Lord, for the bounty you’ve given us. Amen.”

After they crossed themselves and a chorus of
amens
, they dug in.

She dished herself a plate. “Where is Dad, anyway?”

“At Harland’s.”

Their oldest brother and his wife Sonia lived on the small parcel of land that used to be the West Ranch. Since her father had no interest in ranching—he’d worked in the coal mine in Gillette her entire life—he’d passed the land on to his oldest son as soon as Harland was of age.

Supper was a fairly silent affair as her brothers were too busy stuffing their faces to bother with conversation.

Thomas pushed his plate away first. “Good meal, sis.”

“You’re welcome.”

He grinned and said, “Thanks. So, got any plans for tonight?”

“Nothing after doing the dishes. Why?”

“There’s a ballgame in Hulett. I’m meeting my buddy Randy there and then we talked about hitting Dusty’s afterward. Guess there’s a decent band tonight.”

“Randy…is he your short friend with the big mouth?”

Thomas snorted. “That’s Andy. Randy went to college on a partial baseball scholarship. He’s home for the summer. He’d really like to meet you.”

Since she’d lived in Montana the last six school years, she’d only stayed in contact with Beverly and she didn’t know Thomas’s friends. “I’ll go as long as you promise you won’t ditch me.”

“I almost wish I was goin’ along tonight,” Marshall said. “But I’ll probably be heading to work about the time you two roll in.”

“Sneak in,” Stuart corrected. “Even when Dad will be pretty drunk after bein’ with Harland, you don’t want him to know what time you got home.”

“Not a problem for me since I’m sleeping in the sun porch. I can climb through the window,” Carolyn said. Sleeping in the sun porch didn’t bother her. The small space had been tacked on the back of the house as an afterthought, and the poor insulation meant the room stayed cool at night.

“How long will it take you to get ready?” Thomas asked.

Her gaze swept the plates and pots and pans. “Half an hour to do the dishes and fifteen minutes to change.”

“Leave the dishes tonight. I’ll help you do them in the morning.”

Carolyn snapped him with a dishtowel. “Now I know you’re meeting a girl if you make that promise to get me moving.”

Thomas blushed. “Just go get ready.”

She styled her hair in long blonde waves. She slipped on a sleeveless plain white button-up blouse and added a snug-fitting baby blue cardigan. Feeling daring, she tugged on the pair of blue jeans her friend Cathy had given her. Cathy’s wealthy grandparents lived in Chicago and owned a clothing company so Cathy had scads of fashionable clothing that she loved to share.

A quick brush of powder, thick black eyeliner and a couple of passes of mascara made her eyes look more dramatic. She finished off with a coat of red lipstick.

She tucked her money, lipstick and ID in her back pocket—how wonderful was it not to have to carry a purse?—before she slipped on her heels.

Thomas leaned against the Pontiac he’d inherited from Darren. His eyes went wide. “Jesus Christ, Carolyn, what the hell are you wearing?”

“Language,” she snapped. Her brothers cursed like sailors. It drove her crazy.

“You can’t wear pants. People will think you’re a guy.”

Carolyn tossed her hair and stuck out her chest. “Really?
I
look like a man? This Randy you’re introducing me to is into guys?”

“Jes—jeez, that’s disgusting and beside the point. Now go change.”

“No. This is perfectly acceptable, completely fashionable attire to wear to a ballgame. And besides, I wore clothing like this all the time in Montana,” she lied.

“Right. I can’t see the nuns or the priests being onboard letting you prance around in that get-up, let alone Aunt Hulda.” He shook his finger at her. “You get any shi—crap about that outfit? Don’t come crying to me, wanting to go home. You’re stuck.” He climbed in the car and slammed the door.

As soon as they hit the paved road, Carolyn cranked up the radio. She was switching back and forth between the county station and the rock and roll station, singing along, when Thomas reached over and turned the music down.

“If you didn’t like my singing you should’ve said so.”

Thomas shook his head. “You were born with an angel’s voice, sis. I turned it off because I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.” She had a warning flutter in her belly because Thomas was never serious.

“You’ve been back here for three weeks. Mom and Dad expect you to stay the summer but have you given any thought as to what you might do come September?”

She picked at the tiny balls of fuzz on her sweater and dropped them in the ashtray. “No. I mean yes, I’ve thought about it but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Mom needs someone to take care of her; she has for years, so I’ll probably—”

“No, Carolyn. I know you want to help, but you didn’t go away to school just to come back here and become Mom’s sole caretaker after you graduated.”

She turned sideways in her seat and gaped at him. Then why did he—and her brothers—expect her to do everything for their mother? “But—”

“I’ve decided to go to college,” Thomas blurted out. “I want a job where I don’t have dirt on my collar and under my fingernails every damn day. So I’m moving to Denver with Randy at the end of the summer.”

“How will you afford that?”

“I’ve been saving money since I scored that first job at Woolworth’s. You still considering taking up your friend’s offer to move to Chicago?”

She shouldn’t have mentioned that to her nosy brother. Now he’d nag her even more. “I’m not sure if Cathy was serious or just being nice. And I don’t know that I’m cut out for life in the big city.”

“Do me a favor—don’t tell Cathy no just yet. By the end of the summer you’ll probably be more than ready to get out of Wyoming.”

“Is that why you’re leaving here?”

Thomas didn’t speak until he’d parked in the lot behind the ball field. Even then he stared straight ahead instead of meeting her gaze. “There’s no place for me here. Harland is trying to run a ranch. Darren is helping his father-in-law in his sheep business. Marshall has a great job with the railroad. Stuart is happy as a carpenter. I only took the job at the coal mine after I graduated from high school because I didn’t have other options. Now I do.”

As much as she hated the thought of Thomas not being around every day to annoy her, she understood his need to set himself apart. “Have you said anything to anyone about your plans?”

He shook his head. “Not until I get the final application approval paperwork from the college.”