Not My 1st Rodeo (10 page)

“It is. Looking back now, I'm not sure he was ever faithful to me, but I didn't catch on for a couple of years. We went through a few years of counseling but…”

She paused. Staring at her wine, she gently spun the glass in her hands.

Mack felt a surge of anger. “He didn't deserve you,” he announced. “He was an idiot. When a man promises to love and honor a woman, he should stand by that promise.”

Karen held his gaze. He might have been imagining things, but he thought he saw her sigh in satisfaction “Yes, that's exactly why I was on a website called NotMy1stRodeo.com.”

“What is?”

“That sense of honor.” She leaned forward. “I understand that this is not exactly comfortable for you, but you made me a promise and you kept it. I grew up in the Chicago suburbs, which was a great place, but there wasn't that sense of obligation. People gamed the system, the buck stopped somewhere else and people judged you on every single thing you did.”

“I've heard the big cities can be rough,” he agreed. “I've never been anyplace bigger than Billings, except for Cheyenne, Wyoming.” That was where he'd spent his honeymoon, because that was as far as they'd gotten before they run out of gas.

He felt a little stupid, because that statement made him sound like some yokel from the sticks. He knew that Cheyenne and Billings combined wouldn't even come close to Chicago. Dammit, he was not making the best of impressions here.

But Karen just smiled encouragingly at him. “My dad always liked watching old Gunsmoke and Maverick reruns, where a man's word was his bond.” She looked up at him through thick lashes. “I guess I was curious…to see if cowboys really were like that—truth, justice, the American Way—all of it.”

She reached over and rested her hand on top of his right one—the one that was still spinning his wedding ring. Mack forced himself to be still. Her palm was warm and light against his skin. “I'm not looking to get married either. I just want to know if…if there are men still worth believing in.”

In that moment, Mack forgot about his nerves. He forgot about being too old or being out of practice. Even Sue's death—well, it's not like he could forget that. But the sting of it seemed to fade to the background.

Maybe he was old-fashioned, and maybe he was stretching here, but there was something in her tone that made him want to shelter her from the rest of the world full of weaselly ex-husbands and people who game the system. He wanted to prove to her that he, at least, was someone she
could
believe in.

He flipped his hand underneath her palm and curled his calloused fingers around hers. It was a small touch, but he felt a connection between them—a heat that went beyond a handshake.

“Karen,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, “you have my word, when I make you a promise, I
will
keep it.”

Chapter Two

“Oh.” Karen exhaled as every single thing about her responded to Mack Tucker. Her nipples tightened—hell, her clit tightened—as his rough hands stroked hers and his words reverberated through her. This strong, silent cowboy was
exactly
what she'd wanted when she'd joined that ridiculous dating site. “That's…that's good to know.”

At her breathy response, something changed in his face. The worry lines that creased his forehead softened at the same time his eyes deepened. Suddenly, Mack looked less like a man being audited and more like a man who might like to go up with her to the king suite she'd gotten for the night and spend the next several hours proving all the different ways he'd keep his promises.

“So,” Mack went on, “tell me about you.” He moved his thumb over her skin again, strong and sure. “Tell me about your store.”

God, she wanted to swoon right here. But she'd just gotten him to open up a little bit and she didn't want to scare him off. There was still a difference between keeping the promise for dinner because of a sense of honor and a night in this cowboy's arms. So she forced herself to pull it together. “After my divorce, I decided I wanted to get away from Chicago. I needed a fresh start someplace new. I'd been working at my husband's law firm, and I didn't want to do that anymore. I wanted…” She sighed. “I know this sounds silly, but I wanted to make something with my hands. I wanted to make people feel like there was still hope in the world.”

He gave her a confused look. “So you became a
florist
?”

“Well, yeah.” She laughed. “I looked back at my marriage, my life, trying to find the thing that would make me happy. And the thing that kept coming back to me was when I got flowers. I think that's why I fell for Roger. I remember him sending me a dozen roses after that first date and feeling…”

“Hope,” Mack said, nodding. “I get that. Even before Sue died, people were sending flowers so she could see them. It was…” He lowered his head, like he couldn't bring himself to look at her. “It was like this little bit of life that went on, a little bit of beauty and grace in a dark time.”

She squeezed his hand. “I couldn't have said it better myself.” They sat there for a moment, their hands linked.

This wasn't exactly how she'd thought this date would go. She knew Mack was a widower—his profile had said so. But on the other dates Karen had been on since she'd moved to Billings, they'd studiously avoided discussing past relationships as if they were Kryptonite. Apparently, one simply did not acknowledge one's past on a first date, which had always felt a little dishonest to her. It wasn't as if she wanted to rehash all the myriad ways Roger had done her wrong with someone who was essentially a stranger, but she had trouble pretending that part of her hadn't happened. Being divorced was a central part of her identity now, just as Mack being a widower was part of his. There wasn't any way to ignore the facts.

Their food arrived, and she was forced to remove her hand from his grip. She shivered at the loss of his warmth. No, this dress wasn't exactly rated for this time of year, but it wasn't like she was going to walk outside in the driving winter wind. She had no plans to leave this hotel.

Besides, it'd been worth it to see the look on Mack's face when she'd crossed the bar to greet him. The way his eyes had lit up—
yes
. That's what she wanted. To feel desirable again, to feel wanted. For too darned long, she'd felt unattractive, unwanted. Roger hadn't looked at her like he wanted her. He'd looked at her like she was just there. No love—no lust. She'd felt like an obligation he had to meet most of the time, if he remembered she existed at all.

She didn't want feel forgotten anymore. She'd lost a part of herself to a failed marriage and she wanted that part back. She wanted to walk into a room and know that her date couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She wanted to know that he was thinking about what was underneath the dress—that he was thinking about her.

It wasn't wrong to need that. She was a grown woman with a sex drive and she was tired of being invisible.

So this was her being highly visible. Going braless helped. Given the way Mack was looking at her, it helped a lot. He hadn't stopped staring at her and he did not look at her as if she were nothing more than an item on his to-do list that couldn't be avoided. He'd made her a promise and he was going to keep it.

She couldn't think of a bigger turn-on.

After they started eating, Mack waited a bit for her to finish her bite. “So you bought a floral shop in the middle of Montana, huh?”

“I did.” She laughed. “I found it for sale online and thought, why not? I had my divorce settlement and the cost of living here is a fifth of what it is in Chicago. It's a fresh start, that's for sure. It was a turnkey operation and most of the staff stayed on. For the first year, I was more of an apprentice than the owner. Flo—that's one of the older ladies who works for me—taught me a lot.” She shot Mack a funny look. “She tried to set me up with her son. It did
not
work out.”

Mack grinned, which took another five years off his face. “Lucky for me.”

Oh, yeah. He was loosening up a little bit. He was a wildly handsome man, the salt in his salt-and-pepper hair starting to come in at his temples. He wore a beard, probably because it was the dead of winter. His face had the weathered look of a man who spent most of his times outdoors, but when he smiled?

When he smiled at
her
? When his gaze drifted over her body and his pupils dilated with desire? God, how she wanted his calloused hands to move over so much more than just her hand.

She hadn't lied. She was not looking for another husband. But she wanted to feel more alive than just arranging roses for weddings and funerals could make her feel. She wanted to take the next step to putting her divorce behind her, and that meant something physical—on
her
terms this time.

“So how long have you been in Billings?”

“Almost three years now. I moved out after the divorce was finalized.”

Mack thought that over. “When did you join NotMy1stRodeo.com?”

“A few months ago. I had another bad blind date that one of my best clients claimed would be perfect for me.” She couldn't help it—she shuddered at the memory of Ryan. “He offered to cook me dinner at his place, which turned out to be eating pizza in his filthy apartment while he watched a World War II documentary. I'll spare you the rest of the details.” No one else needed to know about how he'd taken off his socks and picked at his toenails while she was still eating. No one.

“He didn't even cook? That's not right,” Mack said as he finished his beer.

“Trust me, the pizza was the best part of that evening. But after that, I decided I couldn't do much worse on my own, you know? And there's something about a cowboy…”

She let her gaze drift over him again. He was a solid six feet tall—hell, everything about him was solid. He filled out his sport jacket and she was dying to know what he looked like under that bolo tie.

“You didn't go out with that one again, did you?”

“No. I haven't had a second date yet.” She sighed. “Half of them barely qualified as a first date, you know? I mean, I'm not repulsive. I own my own business. I'm easy to get along with and reasonably intelligent. Who would have thought it'd be so hard to find a decent man?”

“Actually,” he cut in, his gaze taking in the full magnitude of her cleavage, “you're gorgeous. But continue.”

The way he said it—like it was just a fact that they had to acknowledge, much like they'd acknowledged his wife and her ex—warmed her from the inside out, because honestly? She hadn't felt gorgeous in a really long time. After all, people who knew her—or thought they knew her—were setting her up with the likes of Ryan the Toe-Picker, as if that were as good as a middle-aged divorced woman like herself could possibly hope things to get.

“I…” She took a deep breath, attempting to sound like the self-confident woman she was trying so very hard to be. “Thank you.”

He looked confused. “For what?”

“For the compliment. When you realize that your husband cheated on you with younger, prettier women for basically the entire time you were married…well, I felt like I wasn't
enough
. Pretty enough, good enough. Not enough for him.”

Mack looked at her as if she'd started speaking in a foreign language. For a second, he looked mad, like he wanted to punch someone—Ryan, Roger, all of them. Then he set his knife and fork down and put both hands on the table. “That man was a fool—all of them were.” He leaned forward as he spoke, his voice strong. The air between them almost hummed with tension. “Anyone can see that you're…” His words trailed off again and he seemed to remember where he was. Doubt pulled him away from her.

Oh, no
, Karen thought. She wasn't going to let him leave
that
thought hanging. “Yes?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. She waited. He took a deep breath and pushed back from the table a little. “You have to understand, I met my wife when I was fifteen, and that was it. We married young and I had three sons by the time I was twenty-six. I haven't even looked at another woman much in the last six years, much less complimented them. I don't always remember how to talk to a woman.”

“Just talk to me,” she said. Her voice came out low. “I'm not sitting over here grading you on style and poise or anything.”

“You're beautiful,” he said, but he couldn't look her in the eye when he said it. “What do you want with an old man like me, anyway?”

It was a fair question. “First off, you're how old?”

“Forty-six.”

“You are far from an old man. Here's what I want from you, Mack. I want you to be real. I want to spend some time with a real man, someone who makes me feel like I'm still a real woman. Like I'm good enough. I can't offer perfection and I'm not asking for it.” His eyebrows jumped up as he took that in, but she didn't stop. She was afraid if she did, she'd start to overthink it. So she pressed on. “And you? You already said you're not looking for another wife. What do you want from me?”

His cheeks shot bright red at that question, as if she'd asked him for sex even before the dessert menu had come. But he said, “My youngest is in college now. All three of my boys are grown men, out on their own. I can go a whole week without talking to another person, especially in the winter. It can be a lonely life.” He sighed, as if the truth were something best not spoken of. “I guess…I guess I got tired of being lonely.” He smirked. “Or Tommy got tired of it for me.”

“You came out tonight.” A three-hour drive in the darkness of winter. That was quite a commitment for a woman he didn't know. “You didn't have to. You could have said no.”

“Could have,” he agreed. Then he looked her in the eye. “But I'm glad I didn't.”

Karen's heart began to pound. For a moment, she'd thought she'd lost him. The tension between them had receded and she hadn't been sure it'd come back.

But he was sitting over there, one corner of his mouth curved into half of a smile and he was glad to be here. “Me too,” she said. Which left only one other question. “So now what?”