The Cowboy and the Angel (11 page)

He glanced up as she neared. “It’s about time.” He rose and took the reins from her hand, careful not to touch her, and tied the horse to a branch near his own, slipping a small pack from where it hung over the back of her saddle.

“What’s that?”

“This?” He held up the pack. “This is lunch.”

She frowned at him. “If I’d known I had it, I would have headed back to the ranch.”

He handed her a bottle of water, tipping his toward her before twisting the cap and taking a long drink. “You’re welcome.”

“For what, being a jerk?”

He held a sandwich out to her. “What did I do?”

She arched a brow and snatched the sandwich from his hand. “Oh, absolutely nothing at all,” she answered dryly. She was certain he knew exactly what he’d done.

He sat on the ground in front of her and took a bite from his own food. “Fine, why don’t you tell me how you want me to act. Should I follow your every move like a puppy on a leash? Or maybe I should act more like a tour guide?” He waved his hand elaborately to the side. “Everything you see around you is our north pasture. This is where we keep most of the cattle that are used in the calf and team roping. We have about three hundred head of cattle we choose from so that we don’t overwork any of the animals.” He took another swig from the water bottle. “Is that what you want?”

She shook her head at him. “It helps, smart aleck.” She sipped the water. “You know, you could have warned me that the horse might take off running toward the water—or at least reminded me how to stop her when she did.”

“I showed you in the corral.” His eyes softened as he glanced her way. “But, you’re right,” he conceded, “I probably should have reminded you how to stop her. This
is
your first ride. I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but it wasn’t an apology. It immediately diffused her irritation.

“Thank you.” She looked back toward the water and the birds still twittering at the edge. It was a perfect location for a relaxing picnic, if she could calm the nervous flutter of her stomach.

He bumped her foot with the toe of his boot. “How are your legs doing?” His voice held a note of concern it hadn’t a few moments ago, and she wondered at the change in him.

“How’d you know?” She smiled in spite of herself.

Derek shrugged. “You’re not the first person I’ve taught to ride.”

A stab of jealousy caught her by surprise as she envisioned him teaching women far prettier and less troublesome. She wondered if the entire routine in the corral, feeding her horse and being pushed into his arms, hadn’t happened hundreds of times before. Did he always finish his riding lessons here with a picnic? She frowned, eyeing him warily.

“I’m sure I’m not. I’ll bet you’re in high demand as an
instructor.
”

She caught the glimmer of humor in his eye as he didn’t even bother to conceal his cocky grin. “Everyone goes through it. We’ll walk part of the way back. That should help alleviate some of the soreness.”

She noticed he didn’t deny her accusation. She refused to let him think that she’d be envious of any bimbo he might have hooked up with. Why should she care who he took riding? Her gaze slid over his broad shoulders to his narrow hips, changing the direction her thoughts had taken. She instantly regretted the new course they’d taken.

“Like you’ve ever been sore,” she muttered.

Derek laughed. “You’d be surprised. Up until about six months ago, I was pretty scrawny.” She tilted her head and gave him a disbelieving look. “I swear,” he said, holding up one hand.

“How is that even possible?” She didn’t intend to stroke his ego, but she couldn’t believe his admission. The man was a mass of bulging muscle, a magnificent specimen of manhood with broad shoulders tapering to a six-pack most men would kill for. His thighs stretched his jeans as much as his t-shirts strained to fit around his biceps. Even his hands were manly, calloused and work-roughened. There was nothing about this man that didn’t speak of masculinity. He was a woman’s dream of sculpted perfection with only one flaw she could see: a tiny scar over his right eye. “You’re so . . .”

She blushed, unsure of how to finish without sounding like a lovesick teenager. He leaned back on his elbow, basking in her praise, and arched an eyebrow, waiting to see what she might say next. He certainly didn’t need her to feed his ego.

“Well, look at you.”

He laughed again. “It’s funny what a few months of hard work out here will do for you. Taking care of cattle, tossing hay bales—all of it makes weightlifting look like child’s play. Although Clay and I do have a makeshift gym at his place.”

“I knew it. You’re a gym-junkie,” she teased. “All brawn and no brains.” She was finding it difficult to stay angry at him when he stopped giving her his death-glare and began to relax around her. She could glimpse the mischievous boy Silvie talked about.

“Hardly.” He frowned and she detected a note of bitterness in his voice. “Now that Scott stays here at the ranch and I’m arena director, I’m on the road far more than I’m ever here.”

“You don’t like it?” He shrugged but she could see it was meant to redirect their conversation and didn’t take his bait. “Are you and your brother close?”

“We’re closer now than we have been in the past.” She could see him shutting off as he rose and made his way to the horses. “You finished?”

She arched a brow, not distracted so easily. “Changing the subject? What happened to that ‘open book’?” He looked back at her, and she could see he was trying to decide whether or not to answer her questions. “Why weren’t you close before?”

Derek sighed and turned back toward the horses. “When our parents died, Scott decided he had to be the one in charge. He wasn’t very old but he’s always been the serious one and he tried to act like my father. I didn’t like it. It caused friction.”

She rose and made her way toward him, wincing with every step but intent on seeing his expression. She knew what he left unsaid was just as important as anything he admitted. “Friction?” She edged closer.

He kept his attention focused on his horse. “Up until this past year, I haven’t exactly stepped up to help with the family business the way I should have.”

She moved to stand in front of him, placing her hand on the rump of the horse beside her. “Why not?”

He shrugged again, but she wasn’t about to be deterred and remained in his way. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I guess because I didn’t have to. Scott was always right there to take the lead or pick up whatever I let slide.”

She could see the shadow of disappointment flicker in his eyes and the tension bunching his shoulders even as he was trying to maintain his usual blasé attitude. The reporter in her wanted to press him with more questions, to delve further into the family dynamic and see what secrets might be hidden, but she could see him closing himself off to further discussion. She needed to earn his trust before he’d reveal much more, which just didn’t seem possible with their current circumstances.

She glanced at the water over her shoulder and Angela saw him stiffen slightly in preparation for her next question. “So, how many other girls have you brought here?”

She saw his relief at the change of subject. “One or two.” He winked at her as she twisted her mouth in disbelief.

“Right. I’d bet that between you and your brother, there isn’t a girl on this side of the state who hasn’t been to this lake.”

He laughed out loud. “Maybe it was a few more than that. You know, Scott used to call it ‘Make-Out Creek.’” He arched a brow and a playful grin spread slowly over his lips, making her nervous. “Come on.”

He reached for her hand and pulled her toward the water. She tried to ignore the electric jolt of pleasure that shot up her arm, sending needles of desire into her chest. “Where are we going? Slow down,” she groaned, running behind him stiffly.

Derek stopped at the edge of the water and pulled his boots off, dropping his socks inside, and reached for the hem of his t-shirt.

“What in the world are you doing?” She felt her cheeks burn, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the bronze expanse of skin he revealed.

“Going for a swim. Coming?”

She spread her hands in front of her indicating her clothing. “In jeans?”

“Or not,” he suggested, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he unlatched his belt, sliding it through the loops and dropping it on his boots. He popped the button on his jeans and her eyes widened.

“Are you serious?”

His eyes darkened as her gaze slid over his chest and back to his face. She forced herself to keep her eyes above his neck when he slid his pants down his thighs. Even as she tried to catch her breath, her imagination ran wild with images of what he would look like without his pants.

Derek shrugged, unabashed, and tossed his baseball cap on top of the pile of clothing. “Suit yourself, Angel.” He turned and headed for the inviting water.

She couldn’t help but break her vow, allowing her gaze to wander down his chiseled back to take in the dark boxer briefs that cradled his firm round butt as strong thighs flexed with his every step. He walked until the water hit his knees before diving in, surfacing and swiping water away from his face and through his dark hair.

“You’re really not coming in?” He was teasing her but he almost sounded disappointed.

She forced herself to walk away from the edge of the water. She spotted a large rock along the shore and sat down. “No, I’m really not.”

Removing her boots and socks, she rolled up her pants to her knees and dipped her toe into the water. It wasn’t as cold as she’d expected, so she slid both feet in, letting the weeds underwater tickle the bottom of her feet. Derek swam toward her slowly and she narrowed her eyes at him, pointing a finger his direction.

“Don’t,” she warned.

“You should probably take off anything you want to stay dry.” His eyes gleamed, and he shot her an impish grin. “Riding in wet clothes sucks,” he pointed out.

She tried to remember what sort of underwear she’d put on in her rush to get dressed this morning, praying that she’d opted for something at least somewhat substantial. She jumped up from the rock as he reached for her ankle.

“Fine, but you go over there, cowboy.” She pointed toward the middle of the lake and glared at him, trying to stay angry at him and finding it increasingly difficult when he turned on the charm. “Why do I get the feeling it wasn’t your brother who named this place?”

Derek laughed as she unbuttoned her pants and slipped them to her hip, relieved when she saw her striped bikini underwear.

They cover as much as bathing suit bottoms
.

She stalled for time, sliding her jeans over her thighs and folding her pants, laying them on her borrowed boots. She refused to look at him as she edged closer to the water and walked into it up to her waist, the hem of her tank top getting wet.

“Leaving your shirt on?” She glanced his way in time to see him standing in waist deep water, his eyes glittering with desire and something she hadn’t seen yet. He was completely relaxed. She’d seen him playful and teasing, but this was the first time she’d seen him without the shadow of worry and doubt that seemed to dog every conversation.

“Yes, I am.”

“Party pooper,” he whispered, moving closer and reaching for her wrist.

“I prefer ‘cautious.’” His fingers closed over her hand while his other arm found her waist, pulling her against his chest, stealing the breath from her lungs as he moved farther into the center of the lake.

“Chicken?”

“Guarded,” she admitted.

“I promised you earlier, I won’t ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Derek wound his other arm around her waist and let his hands knead the tense muscles of her lower back, sending spirals of longing along the length of her spine. Water swirled around their shoulders, her toes no longer touching the bottom of the lake as he held her to him. She could feel his arousal pressing against her through the thin barrier of their undergarments and she trembled, wishing for the first time that she could follow her desires instead of common sense. Letting him touch her, gripping the slick muscles of his forearms, feeling her nipples tighten in her bra, she would give anything to give in to her hunger for this man. But she knew giving in would be a mistake. Maybe not tomorrow but next week, or the week after, when the story aired, when his family was forced to suffer the repercussions from protestors and possible investigations, he would hate her.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, lifting one of her arms to his shoulder. “Relax. Trust me.”

“That’s a lot more dangerous than it sounds.”

“Angel, I think I have more to lose here than you do.” Derek gave her a lopsided grin and brushed a lock of hair from her face.

“You might be surprised,” she whispered at his chest, unable to meet his eyes.

He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Open book?”

She couldn’t admit to him why this story was so important. He couldn’t possibly understand the need to escape with her father, especially when it would jeopardize his future. Everything in her wanted to open up, to allow his broad shoulders to bear some of the weight she carried each day. She’d been caring for her father and hiding his problems since she was a child. She would have given anything for someone to tell her it was no longer necessary. And if Derek wanted her to trust him . . . What was she thinking? She barely knew him. With his arms around her, sapping at her will to remain distant, she almost gave in to this fantasy he created. She pushed away from his shoulders and swam away, trying to get some distance from him to help her think clearly.

She turned to face him from the bank, wishing she didn’t feel the dull hopelessness creeping over her. “I never claimed to be an open book.” Angela sat on the rock and drew her knees to her chest, ignoring the water coursing down her legs and back and puddling on the ground.

“Fair enough,” he agreed, still watching her intently. “Then where does that leave us? What can we talk about?”

She rested her chin on her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, creating a barrier between them. “Rodeo, I guess. It’s why I’m here.” She shrugged, wishing that they could have met under different circumstances. “According to you, I have a lot to learn in a very short time. So teach me.”