The Cowboy Takes a Bride (19 page)

“Eww.”

“Boys will be boys. But look at it this way, we’ve got something in common now, we’ve both been bitten by a rat snake.”

“Be still my heart.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

“No, what does it mean?”

“It means you’re a bona fide Texan now. You can’t claim to be a bona fide Texan until you’ve had some kind of run-in with a snake.”

For some reason, the thought of being a bona fide Texan made her ridiculously proud. “I assume we’re talking about the reptile species.”

He grinned. “For the most part.”

“Sorry for getting all theatrical on you,” she said, feeling sheepish.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. There are plenty of rattlesnakes around here. It’s not something to take lightly. And while a rat snake bite isn’t serious, it can get infected. Hang on,” he said. “Dutch keeps a first aid kit in the barn. I’ll get you fixed right up.”

He disappeared into the barn and returned a few minutes later. That’s when she got her first good look at his face. His left eye sported a vividly purple bruise from his fight with Lee Turpin.

“Does it hurt?”

He looked startled. “What? Oh, the eye.” He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“You get into fistfights often?”

“Not in years.”

“What was different about last night?”

Joe’s face clouded. “Turpin grabbed your ass.”

“How was that your problem? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute,” he said. “It was just my misguided chivalry kicking in.”

“There’s old history between you and Turpin.”

“Nothing worth talking about.”

“That shiner tells a different story.

“Sit down on that rock.” He indicated a large, flat river rock rising up from the ground.

“You’re bossy.”

“And?”

“It’s rude.”

“I’m a boss. I run a ranch. I’m supposed to be bossy. It’s an admirable trait in the self-employed. Now sit.”

She sat.

He knelt in front of her, opened the first aid kit. “Put your foot here.” He patted his lower thigh.

“Would it kill you to say please?”

“Quite possibly.”

She stared at him a long moment.

He patted his leg again, turned on the charm with a killer smile. Combined with the black eye, it made him look like a raggedy tomcat dragging home after a long night as king of the alley.

“C’mon,” he drawled, “pretty please with sugar on it.”

She tried not to smile at his cajoling, but she couldn’t help herself, relented, and eased her bare foot down on his blue-jeaned knee. His thigh muscles were as tight and corded as his biceps.

“You said you have brothers,” she said while he took a package of antiseptic swabs from the first aid kit. She tried not to notice how warm his leg was. “How many?”

“Two brothers and two sisters.”

“Big family.”

“Yep.”

“Where did you fall in the birth order?”

“Second. My oldest brother, Chase, is a trauma surgeon. He lives in Dallas. There’s me, then Kimber, my sister. We’re just eighteen months apart. She’s an attorney in Houston. Then there’s Rick, he’s in grad school at the University of Oklahoma. He’s studying meteorology. He’s one of those crazy storm chasers. Then there’s my baby sister, Meg. She’s finishing her last year at TCU in the nursing program.”

“Did you go to college?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“No college courses on how to be a cowboy. It’s in your blood. The only preparation is on-the-job training. Every one of my siblings went against the ranching life. I’m the only one who took to it.”

“Do your parents own a ranch?”

“That’s where we all grew up. Right here on this ranch. Green Ridge’s been in the Daniels family for five generations. I bought it from my parents when I won my last rodeo purse. My dad has arthritis and he just couldn’t do the physical labor anymore. He and Mom bought a place on Lake Twilight in Hood County. They run a little antique store in town just to keep busy.”

Joe tore open a package of the antiseptic wipes and with his head bent over her foot, swiped the brown Betadine solution over the bite marks. Suddenly, he laughed.

“What is it?”

“Will you look at that.” He looked up from his handiwork.

“What is it?”

She peered at her ankle. He’d connected the teeth patterns and it formed the letter D.

“That rat snake marked you with my brand.” His dark eyes met hers. “D for Daniels.”

Mariah gulped. There was something so utterly compelling about this man, so sexy and elemental. That’s when she knew she was toeing a highline wire of pure trouble. He was a cowboy. The antithesis of the kind of man she wanted, the kind of life she wanted to lead.

His head was so close to hers and all she could do was stare at his full, angular mouth. She saw what was in his eyes, felt a corresponding desire grab hold of her.

It was strange, this casual intimacy. Partially, it was an emotion she’d never experienced before, at least not quite in this way. An awed closeness that made her diffidently aware of the fact that they were, for the most part, strangers. Another part of her felt a heedless sense of ease. Why did she feel so comfortable here? She should feel awkward, displaced, but she did not.

Autumn leaves flurried on the breeze, scattered and clattered dryly across the ground. A solitary red oak leaf landed on Joe’s shoulder, adding vibrant weight to his right side. He tilted his head in the same direction, unaware of how the gesture furthered the illusion of lopsidedness. He studied her as if he was trying to guess the contents of a brightly colored envelope addressed to someone else.

I’m not that much of an enigma. I just know how to put on a good show.

“Still scared?” he asked, nodding toward where the rat snake had once coiled.

“Kind of,” she admitted, but only if she looked down. If she kept her gaze on his face, she forgot about the butterflies in her stomach. Forgot about most everything but the expression in his eyes, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was something about the way he looked at her that calmed Mariah, slowed her down, made her feel . . .
welcomed
.

She caught a whiff of his fragrance. Delicious. Spicy. All man. She had a sudden urge to lick him to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

His smile drew her closer.

“You are not going to kiss me,” Mariah declared, and leaned forward.

“Who me?” Joe murmured.

“We make about as much sense as a pair of three-legged jeans.”

“Not even that much sense.” His voice went husky.

“We’re not that stupid.”

He moved closed. “Too smart to get involved.”

“We barely know each other.”

“Even though we’re neighbors.”

“But only for a couple of months. I’ll be leaving before Christmas.”

“Hardly worth the effort,” he murmured, his hand on her shoulder.

“The timing is off.”

“Yep.”

“So nothing is happening.” She dared to inch closer.

“Nada, zip, zero.”

“Kissing would be disastrous.”

“Mistake of the highest order.” Joe twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger.

“I mean it’s not like we can take this anywhere.”

“Nope.”

“We’re certainly not going to bed together.”

“Not even just to sleep.”

“We’ll forget all about this sexual chemistry.”

“What sexual chemistry?” His palm cradled the back of her head.

Get up, move, cool off. Put some distance between you and this so-sexy-he-should-be-outlawed cowboy.

It sounded good. She should listen to her own advice, but Joe was so damn enticing all she could think about was
I wonder what he tastes like.

Why was she suddenly so hot? Like a Maine lobster in a cooking pot, hot.

Their noses were almost touching. Their gazes cemented. Her body thermostat was completely out of whack, blazing, boiling, burning. Joe’s pupils dilated, his cheeks pinked. Mariah knew hers did too.

“You’re going to get up and walk away,” she said. “Like you’d just come across a grizzly bear cub.”

“I am.”

He didn’t flinch.

Neither did she.

Her bare foot was on his thigh. He was on his knees before her. One of his hands was pressed against the nape of her neck, the other around her ankle.

Mariah’s nipples hardened. “I thought you were backing off.”

“I’m gone.”

“You’re not moving.”

“I’m vapor.” He stayed put.

Her breath whistled faintly as it slipped over her teeth. She’d been waiting so long to exhale. “Thanks for the first aid.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So long.”

“See ya around.”

“Bye.”

The next thing Mariah knew, Joe was pulling her savagely into his arms.

Chapter Eleven

There are three ways to argue with a woman. None of them work.

—Dutch Callahan

K
issing Mariah felt meant to be. Right there in the pasture just outside the horse paddock, behind her father’s cabin, he cradled either side of her face in his palms and looked deeply into her eyes.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t glance away.

In his years as a professional bull rider, Joe had kissed a lot of women, and each had held her own special thrill. Becca had been the best kisser of the bunch, but this kiss, ah, this kiss with Mariah . . .
well
. . . there was just something about it that transcended any other kiss he’d ever experienced. Something about Mariah that transcended any other woman.

Even Becca.

And that thought made Joe feel disloyal and guilty as sin, but it didn’t stop him from following his instincts and he despised himself for his weakness.

She tasted like honeyed mead, thick and sweet and potent. Kissing her made him think of golden sunsets and sleepy sunrises. Of long, hot, steamy nights.

Mariah sank against him, her hands knotted into fists at his shoulders, her head tilted back, her mouth slack and willing. Her body language showed her conflict. Closed-off hands, open lips.

Joe kissed her harder than he should have, branding her mouth with his. Damn, he was lost, and for a man who prided himself on being in control, it unhinged him.

She chose that moment to dart her sly little tongue between his teeth. Delighted, he laughed out loud and she laughed with him. Mariah. The daughter of his best friend. It was scary, yep, but he wanted more.

With a start, Joe realized he was ready to heal.

But Mariah? She was leery of men. Leery of
him
. If he pushed too hard too soon for more than she was ready to give, the whole thing could blow up in his face. Honestly, he was still pretty damn shaky himself.

Mariah pulled away and broke the kiss and he didn’t try to stop her. She blinked at him, her full lips still parted. “What,” she whispered, “was that all about?”

“Impulse.”

“A bad one!”

“So the kiss was no good, huh?” he teased.

Her eyes widened and she drew in a deep breath. “It was way more than good. It was over-the-top awesome.
That’s
the problem. There’s always a catch when something is too good to be true.”

“It was special for me too,” he murmured. His hand was on her ankle again, her foot still on his thigh. She was squirming like a trap-snared critter. “So where do we go from here?”

Mariah held up both palms like a stop sign. “There’s no ‘we.’ There’s you and there’s me, but there is definitely no ‘we’
.
It was just a kiss. One that shouldn’t have happened. But it did, and the best thing is to put it behind us and forget it ever happened.”

“Best thing, huh?”

“Yes.” She tugged her foot from his grasp, hopped off the rock, backed away.

His gaze drifted to her ankle. To the D etched in Betadine. D for Daniels. He grinned and let his eyes track a path up her compact, curvy figure to her face. A golden spiral of soft curls fell across slender shoulders. In the early morning sunlight, the grass spiked with dew, she looked like a Druid princess rooted in nature. She’d laugh if he told her that. She considered herself thoroughly cosmopolitan.

He enjoyed looking at her, sheet creases on her cheek, sans makeup and with glasses on.