Cowboy Tough (17 page)

She eased herself down, letting him slide inside. Her gaze heated and her resistance seemed to melt as he reached up and framed her breasts with his big hands, moving his thumbs over the nipples as she moved with a sinuous grace. The two of them dipped and floated, rose to the sparkling surface and then dove into deep water, clinging together in a vast, blurry darkness where there was nothing but them, the two of them together, sharing breath and time and sensation.

Arching his back, he savored the sweet bliss of it, rocking slowly, then faster, feeling her clench in another climax as his heart lifted to join the stars that swirled in a dark perfect sky inside him.

When they'd finished, he held her, resting her head on his chest, and was thankful that she couldn't see his face. There was no way to hide what he was feeling. Who'd ever think two people so different could touch each other so deeply in such a short time? He felt like this woman was forever and everything. His life was in turmoil, and she was the knot at its center, the one thing in the world that held it together. The one thing he had to hold onto.

He knew the knot probably wouldn't hold. She'd leave, and he'd lose her. But he'd always want her, and always remember. His world had shifted forever onto a new axis, one that had him slipping and sliding and hanging on for dear life.

He looked up at the slanted rafters above the bed and thought back to that roadside attraction with its crazy angles and angled beams. The Wonder Spot.

Cat buried her face in his shoulder and smothered a laugh. “I never heard it called
that
before.”

“What?”

She looked up at him with a playful smile. “You were talking in your sleep. I think you said ‘Wonder Spot.'”

“Oh. Yeah.” He thought about explaining it, but he didn't feel like he had to. He'd never had this kind of deep-down harmony with a woman—never wanted it, actually. But right now he felt like he could stay here forever, holding her in the quiet night.

“We're in the right place,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “Right here. Right now.”

She snuggled closer. “Yeah,” she said. “I know what you mean.”

Cat woke to the clatter of morning birdsong and a nasty grating noise. Lifting her head off the pillow, she rubbed her eyes. She was back in the Heifer House, in her own small bunkhouse bed. She could barely remember how she'd gotten there. It had been almost dawn before she and Mack parted ways. She'd tiptoed like a sneak-thief past the girls' room, slipping into the bunkhouse with her clothes rumpled and her hair in a bed-head tangle.

Dressing hastily in a pair of jeans and the wrinkled shirt from the day before, she shoved her feet into her shoes and staggered outside. Madeleine was rummaging around in the chuckwagon while Mack scraped out a black iron Dutch oven with an old tin spatula.

“Biscuits didn't rise,” he grunted. “Have some dough. There's coffee, too.”

Madeleine nudged another pot closer to the fire. “That's what you get for trying to cook without me. Don't know why you had to start so early.”

Cat watched her students spill from the two bunkhouses in various states of grogginess. “Dora,” she said. “Where's Dora?”

Mack cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “Ah, she's back at the barn. Vivian's showing her some stuff about the horses.” He handed her an enamel cup of dark, hot coffee and a golden blob of heated dough.

She bit into the biscuit and washed it down with coffee. Mack didn't seem to want to look at her, or talk. She'd expected some shared smiles, the heady feeling of a secret kept. But he kept shifting his weight, clearing his throat, busying himself with the fire.

Great. She'd thought last night was something special. Obviously, he was embarrassed about it.

Not that it mattered. It was nothing but a fling.

He stopped fooling with the fire mid-poke and his gaze zeroed in on hers so strongly she wondered if she'd spoken aloud. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking and brought his finger to his lips and smiled.

Shh.

Her heart lifted, suddenly light as dandelion fluff with the small joy of sharing a secret. He went back to poking at the fire, and she went back to her biscuit, but the day had taken on a new shine.

“Sleep okay?” she asked Ed, doing her best to sound casual.

“Not really. Charles snores like a soldier,” the old man said.

“That's right.” Mack grinned across the fire at Ed. “He had the elk bugling, and it's only May.” He made a whooping sound that was somewhere between a hollow cough and a yodel. Cat had never heard elk bugling, but she suspected it was a good imitation.

Charles shrugged off the joke with a laugh. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he looked like a good-natured Buddha. “Where we headed today, trail boss?”

“Back to the canyon.” Mack eyed the other students, who were lowering themselves onto the benches with varying degrees of stiffness. “You all up for it?”

“You bet,” Ed grunted.

“We're rarin' to go,” Emma said, almost falling onto the bench in her effort to sit down without bending her knees.

The girls finally turned up, providing a sprightly contrast to the old folks, and raced through breakfast. To Cat's surprise, the two of them deliberately chose to share her bench, and though they were too intent on eating to talk much, she felt as if she and Dora had somehow cleared the air.

Maybe her niece had just needed to get her anger out of her system. Cat resolved to listen today, to give her a sounding board. She wouldn't take anything personally or get defensive. She'd try to accept Dora for Dora, instead of trying to change her.

Both girls helped Maddie gather up the dirty dishes and load them into the chuckwagon, but the woman waved them away. “You go on and help with the horses,” she said to Dora. “I've got all day to take care of this stuff.”

Dora trotted over to Mack, who soon had her checking the knots that lashed their equipment to the pack horses while he tested cinches and adjusted bits on the riding horses.

“Ms. Crandall?” Viv was standing in front of Cat, looking uncertain. “Can I, um, talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure. I've been wanting to talk to you.”

“Dora and I were talking yesterday.”

Cat smiled. “I know. And I'm so glad. She needs a friend right now.”

“She's really enjoying working with my dad on the horses.”

“Yes, she is. Your father's a good guy.” Cat hoped the warmth that rushed to her face didn't show.

“Yeah. But the horse thing—it doesn't really work for me.”

Cat nodded. It was clear Viv was no cowgirl. She wore jeans, as they all did, but they were low-rise designer models sporting artful rips in the fabric and a splashy acid wash. Her top was a complicated, drapey knit number that emphasized her cute, youthful figure without looking slutty, and she wore a crystal-studded headband in her carefully-styled hair.

“I really like art. Drawing and stuff.” The girl was a little motormouth, talking fast as if she was trying to make it through a long script in her allotted time with Cat. “I was wondering if I could work with you—with the other students, I mean. You wouldn't have to help me much or anything. I'd just kind of watch. Like auditing a class.”

Cat paused. This was awkward. The price for the workshops was high, and she'd been cautioned to let the company know if any tagalongs joined the group. It was a money-making operation, after all, and they didn't want to let her services go for free.

But how could she turn down a teenager who was interested in what she had to offer? Viv looked so excited, twisting her body from side to side with her hands clasped in front of her as she waited for Cat's answer.

If only Dora was that eager to please.

“I guess we could find some equipment for you to use,” Cat said. “I'm sure the others would be happy to loan you some materials.” She was sure this was true. Paint and watercolor paper were expensive, but the older people would probably fall over each other in their eagerness to help a young person.

She eyed the horses, who were stamping and blowing in a long line along the fence. “The problem is the easels. Everybody brought their own, so there's no extra.”

“Oh, that's okay.” Viv's pretty face lit up in a smile. “Dora said I could use hers.”

“But then what's she going to do?”

“She'll help my dad with the horses.” Viv's grin widened. “We're trading places! Isn't that perfect? I mean, she loves horses and I love to paint, and we were each stuck doing the wrong job. This way we'll both have fun and my dad'll still have help.”

Cat drew back. Dora wasn't going to paint?

She wasn't surprised at that decision. What surprised her was the sharp sense of loss she felt when she thought of the two of them working apart, rather than working together on their paintings. She wanted to help Dora. Teach her something. It wasn't about the painting; it was the togetherness she wanted.

“You'd better talk to your dad,” she told Viv. Mack knew how she felt. He'd bail her out on this.

“Oh, he says it's okay.” The girl danced in place. “He says I'm a whiner anyway.” She grinned, as if her father had said she was beautiful or smart. “He seemed pretty happy about trading me for Dora. We decided last night.”

“You and your dad cooked this up last night?” Cat narrowed her eyes. When would they have talked about it last night? He hadn't said anything to her about it when they were together.

“Well, Dora and I cooked it up. But Dad said okay.”

“
When
last night?”

“After dinner.”

The stab of loss was joined by an equally sharp jab of betrayal. Mack knew what this trip with Dora meant to her. How could he so carelessly take away the one bond she had with the girl, and then conveniently forget to mention it when they were together? It wasn't like they hadn't had time.

She shot him a dirty look but recovered when she realized Viv was still standing in front of her with a pleading expression on her face.

“Okay,” she said. “Fine. But if Dora changes her mind, we'll find a way for both of you to paint.” She smiled as a thought occurred to her. “You two are getting to be such good friends, you might want her to help you. Then your dad'll just have to handle everything on his own.” She slid her eyes toward Mack, who seemed absorbed in the horses. She wondered if he was faking it, avoiding her gaze. “I'm sure he can manage. He's such a tough, self-sufficient guy.”

He was going to be self-sufficient now, that was for sure. He'd messed with her relationship with her niece, then conveniently forgotten about it when he got a chance to get happy with her.

She shot him a glare and he turned as if he'd felt it burning into his back. Once again his eyes met hers, but this time there was no smile, no secret—just guilt. He knew damn well what he'd done.

She felt the bond between them snap, sharply as a broken stick, and just like that the day lost its shine.

Mack followed the riders as they headed into the home stretch. They were strung out in single file, tipping and sagging in the saddle like a row of crooked fence posts. The day at the canyon had been long, and the route was the rockiest one on the ranch.

The horses lightened their step as they approached the corral, no doubt looking forward to burying their muzzles in the watering tank. Everybody was beat, including him, but the day had gone surprisingly well despite the tension between him and Cat.

She had a right to be angry. He should have talked to her before he approved the plan. And once he'd approved it, he probably should have told her about it before he'd—whatever they'd done last night. But he'd honestly forgotten. She'd looked so beautiful, and he'd felt—
bonded
to her somehow. He still did, in spite of her stony silence. It was impossible to explain, even to himself.

He'd worked all day to find a peace offering, knowing the one thing she wanted was a key to Dora's thoughts. He was pretty sure he'd succeeded in easing open at least a small break in the barrier the girl so resolutely kept closed. There were no easy answers, but at least they'd have an idea of where to start.

They
. He needed to stop thinking that way. A week ago, he'd wondered if he was capable of real love for a woman. Now he knew that not only could he fall in love, but he could fall so hard his heart would shatter when this woman walked away.

A picture of Cat lying naked in his bed crossed his mind—her slim hips, the small but perfect breasts, the hair tumbled on the pillow. She might walk away, but that memory would stay with him for a lifetime.

Which meant he had no regrets.

“You going to help me with this or just stand there mooning over my aunt?” Dora asked. She was brushing Spanky, holding out his tail to one side as she detangled it.

“I'm helping.”

“Go see her if you want.” She combed through the tail with her fingers one last time and led the horse to his stall. “I can take care of the grooming.”

“Nope. We're a team.”

She grinned, and they worked in quiet unison for a while, grooming the horses and getting them fed and stabled. She was a good little horsewoman. He'd have to tell Cat how well she'd done.

She'd been cheerful, too. He was willing to bet her grief hadn't touched her all afternoon. Horses were good therapy, and the landscape here was healing. He knew that from experience.

“You can go relax a while, hon,” he said as he shut the last stall. The horses were settled for the night, chewing their evening ration. He just needed to coil some rope and stow some saddles and he'd be done, too.

“Aunt Cat's probably already at the campfire,” Dora said. “I could finish up.”

“No, you go,” he said. “I doubt she's speaking to me. She wasn't too happy about our arrangement.”

Dora's brow creased in concern. “Viv said she was okay with it.”

“Viv sees what she wants to see,” he said. “Optimism runs in the family.”

“Must be nice.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and strolled off. It seemed like the day had transformed her. She'd changed from a sulky city girl to a bona fide cowgirl somewhere on the trail. As far as he was concerned, it was a change for the better.

“Come talk to her soon, though,” she called over her shoulder. “You've got to make up before the barn dance. I
so
want to see you make her do the two-step.”

He groaned. Tomorrow was mostly a day off for him. The students would be evaluating and reviewing the work they'd done so far, and then splitting up to paint scenes around the ranch—the barn, the horses, the ranch house itself.

He was looking forward to a day immersed in the real business of ranching—checking the herd in the north pasture, riding fence, taking care of a few small repairs around the place. What he wasn't looking forward to was the barn dance scheduled for the evening. Madeleine had hired some country band from town, and they were going to string chili pepper lights between the two bunkhouses and have a hoedown. A good time would be had by all—as long as you liked to dance.

“Come on, you said you know how to two-step,” Dora urged.

“Yeah. My mom made me learn when I was six. Trust me, it's not going to be pretty.”

As a matter-of-fact, it was going to be hell. His mother had invited half the county to join them, including the Humboldts from out past Two Shot. Emily Humboldt had been his best girl all through high school. He could still picture the look of betrayal on her face when he'd announced at a graduation party that he'd filled his PRCA card and was going pro on the rodeo circuit. Evidently, she'd expected a diamond to go with her graduation tassel.

He'd run into her a few times since, and she'd seemed friendly enough. But the barn dance setting reminded him too much of the past, and there was a good chance it would remind Emily, too.

He pitched the last saddle onto a sawhorse in the tack room and headed for the fire pit. He'd planned on going up to bed, avoiding a likely conflict with Cat. He'd discovered during his marriage that it was best to let tempers on both sides cool before revisiting an issue.

But Dora was right; they'd be thrown together at the barn dance whether Cat wanted to see him or not, so he might as well make nice now.

If she'd let him.

It didn't look promising. She was sitting alone on the far side of the fire, hugging herself and staring moodily into the flames. He ought to leave her to it and count himself lucky for escaping another difficult relationship—along with inevitable heartbreak. But something about her dedication to Dora touched him. How had she put it?
I
love
her
like
crazy—probably too much
. That was something he could understand.

As he approached, Cat jerked to her feet and stalked over to where the Delaneys were chatting about the day's adventures. Okay, she didn't want to talk to him. But he could talk to the Delaneys too, and she could hardly be rude in front of her clients.

He joined the small knot of artists and gave Cat a casual grin. “How'd my daughter do?”

He knew the answer. Viv had done great. She'd stayed on the fringes of the group at first, being careful not to take time away from the paying students, but her work was good enough to attract attention and the others had noticed. Cat had, too. She'd spent some time with Viv, explaining some of those art terms she was always dropping like small, incomprehensible verbal bombs into her lessons.

“She did well,” Cat said.

He kept grinning and rolled one hand in a “keep going” gesture.

“Really well. You have a very talented daughter.” She turned back to Abby and Emma, obviously hoping to resume their previous conversation and shut him out, but the women weren't playing her game.

“She's a sweet girl,” Emma said, patting Mack's arm. “You did a good job raising her.”

Abby nodded. “You sure did. Don't you think so, Cat?”

Cat nodded, her eyes darting around in search of an escape route.

“In fact, you probably want to talk to Cat about her future. Maybe Viv would like a career in art someday.”

The two ladies wandered off, giving each other congratulatory winks. Mack wondered why they didn't just quit faking casual and high-five each other on their matchmaking success.