Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? (12 page)

“So is Daisy a good kisser?” It was best to blurt it out. Oh, she hoped he denied it.

“Why do you ask?” Riley stalled. He flicked the reins and his horse trotted away, making conversation difficult. Her face got hot as she and Mystic followed. Of course he wouldn’t answer. Why should he? She had no claims on him. He glanced at her across the horse-length between them. “Fairfax. Why do you ask?”

Oh. He wasn’t avoiding her. She held up her hands and mimed a waltz the best she could while holding the reins. “According to her, you danced and held her in your arms, surrounded by magic, and would have kissed if Jeanne hadn’t interrupted you.”

“Really?” He shook his head. “She danced and I held her in my arms so she wouldn’t fall, and she tried to kiss me when I couldn’t escape.”

A snort of laughter escaped her lips and giddiness trickled through her body. “Hmmm…” She boldly looked him over. “Hard to imagine you as defenseless.”

He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, then turned his heated gaze on her again, making her insides turn to goo. “It seems I’m completely defenseless where you’re concerned.”

He galloped away, leaving Ainsley to follow him and wonder exactly what that meant.

The door to the cabin opened as soon as they arrived and Jewel stepped out. “We were beginning to wonder about you two,” she said, placing her hands on her hips in mock annoyance. “We weren’t quite sure what we were supposed to do here, but I think we managed to accomplish a few things. The cabinets are restocked. The cabin has been cleaned and we made lunch. Was there anything else?”

“No, it sounds like you got all of it.” Riley dismounted and lifted the animal off his saddle. “Want to get some water for the lamb?”

Jewel clapped her hands and practically squealed with delight. She ran inside and quickly returned with a bowl of water.

Ainsley forced herself to smile as Jewel cooed at the small animal. When her cheeks couldn’t take it anymore, she left them to it and went inside. Antiseptic odors were everywhere, the dirty pail of water stood abandoned while the group of women watched from the window.

“Geez, she made it seem like she thought of it all,” Leigh said, disgust filling her voice. She huffed to the sink and grabbed a sponge.

“Well, it was her idea to alphabetize the vegetables,” Meagan said judiciously.

Her roommate could find something nice in anyone, couldn’t she? Riley and Jewel came back, and Ainsley focused on the plate of roast beef sandwiches on the wooden table.

As soon as Riley sat, Jewel and Leigh scrambled to the chairs on either side of him, throwing smug looks in Ainsley’s direction as they claimed their places. The humor in Meagan’s eyes mirrored Ainsley’s own and she tried to keep from laughing at the desperate measures taken by the other women. With deliberate calm, she pulled out one of the remaining chairs and sat down.

“After lunch, ladies, we’re changing up. Steve and Dallas will take over here while I join the other riders.” He took a big bite of a sandwich and chewed while Jewel and Leigh protested the switch. When they fell silent, he shifted his gaze to Ainsley. She met his cool look with her own features neutral. “Would you mind taking Fluffy back to the barn? Find Cookie when you get back to the stables. He’ll tell you what to do.”

“Oh,” Meagan said, half-rising from her seat. All eyes focused on her and she blushed. “It’s just that I’d like to see what will happen, too,” she mumbled. “With Cookie. And the lamb.” Ainsley kicked her friend under the table, and Meagan’s cheeks flushed deeper. Something was definitely going on there.

“Sure,” Riley said after a brief pause. “I’ll get the lamb on your horse.”

Edward settled in on his lounge chair by the pool under the beating sun, listening to the reggae music sounding across the deck. He tried to concentrate on the financial magazine in his hands, but instead, he watched a small bead of sweat make its way down Cecelia’s bronze skin from her breast to her flat belly. She glanced at him over the top of her sunglasses and shifted a little, reaching for her bottle of water. The movement forced her breasts higher, and the bead continued its trail and disappeared at the waistband of her green bikini bottoms.
Dammit, Anders, you’re a grown man. You’ve been ignoring your emotions for years now. You can do it for two more days.
He thrust aside the aching desire to follow it with his tongue and swallowed against the tightness in his throat, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice low and husky and she knew perfectly well he wasn’t all right.

“Fine,” he ground out, leaning back in his chair and turning the page. He didn’t remember what he had just read, but that happened every time he was near this woman. After he had run away from the dinner, he had wandered around the ship, focusing on Ainsley, but when he thought he was under control, Cecelia slipped in unbidden. Like she’d been doing his entire life. “Can’t you cover yourself up?”

“I could. But why would I want to?” She flipped through her sociology book, a pink highlighter at the ready in her hand.

Why indeed. She was so very beautiful, her body exquisite, and he wanted to keep her a secret from the rest of the Y chromosomes on board. His mother’s soft, cultured voice crept into his mind: Cecelia should be more reserved, less obvious about her sexuality. Leave something to the imagination.

She frowned at her book before closing it with a heavy thud and flashed him a brilliant smile. “I’m supposed to be on break and I don’t want to study anymore. Let’s go to the casino.”

That seemed harmless. Not like staying in these chairs with her in that bikini. The desire to make her happy overrode his concerns about her attire and his mouth tugged up in response. “You know the odds of winning are horrendous. Gambling, casinos, the lottery. Think of it as a tax on people who are bad at math.”

“That’s me!” She bounced out of the chair and wrapped her sarong around her hips—finally—then grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the chair, leading him to the stairs. “Let’s go!”

Her fingers felt soft and cool against his palm and he wanted to hold on forever as they wound their way to the Queen of Hearts casino. The bright lights and clanging bells in the large room gave his senses a jolt but he followed her to a blackjack table while trying to filter out the distractions. It wasn’t hard, with her hips swaying as she walked in front of him.

“You know how to count up to twenty-one, right?” Cecelia teased as she slid into a padded chair. He sat next to her while she gave the dealer their ship’s plastic card. He slid her a pile of chips and she gave half of them to Edward while he propped her book and his magazine in the empty chair next to him.

Edward rarely gambled. Sure, he’d gone to Vegas two or three times, but if he was going to risk his money, he preferred it be in the stock market where he could research, follow trends, or start new ones. Still, Cecelia’s eyes sparkled with eager amusement and he didn’t want his conservative streak to bring her down. He stacked the red and white chips into neat piles before placing his first bet.

Her methods were incredibly reckless. “You just split fives,” he gasped. She was going to lose, and badly. “The dealer has an eight showing, and you’re splitting fives? On a one hundred dollar bet?”

“And?” She smiled at the dealer, who placed another five on the first one. She signaled she wanted to double down, and got an ace. Unbelievable. Her other card drew a nine, and she hit again, getting a four. Edward played it safe, staying on his hard seventeen, but the dealer flipped over a ten and swept away his bet, giving his chips and more to the woman by his side. She let it ride.

He could barely watch the next hand as she hit on seventeen. And got a two.

“You’re crazy,” he said. It sickened him a little, her cavalier attitude with money, but he added his chips to her pile. Watching her was more exciting than playing, even though it hurt his stomach.

“And it’s fun!” She giggled and waited for her next hand. She got two aces and asked for another card.

She played until it was time to get ready for dinner, the pile of chips growing to great proportions and then shrinking the next minute. Edward stifled his concern, fascinated with the way she laughed off her losses. Everyone else he knew would be hoarding their last chip, unwilling to risk it all on a bet. When she was done, she had gained a net of fifty dollars. “Totally worth it,” she said, holding his hand on their way to the cabin. Her fingers grazed his palm, sending spikes of lust straight to his groin. The woman was dangerous and wild. And he needed to think about that.

They separated to get dressed, with Edward a bit frazzled. He stood in the middle of his empty room, palms pressed against his temples. Watching her play blackjack had been exhilarating, but irresponsible. Ainsley never would have gambled like that. And she would never have worn that tiny green bikini, inviting every man on board to ogle her. He drew in a deep breath, trying to give this some rational thought. His heart sucker punched him, and he wanted to relieve the pain by rushing over to the woman he loved and propriety be damned. The future Mrs. Anders would need refinement and social graces, not a proclivity to act before she thought, to base her decisions on emotions and hunches. That kind of life would not—no, could not—work for him.

Spending this time with Cecelia, away from Ainsley and their mother and the pressures of his job and his life, had opened his eyes to the need for something more. He didn’t want to be the stodgy, boring accountant anymore. But no matter how much he yearned for it, how much his mind craved her vitality, how much his body thirsted for the woman in the next room, he couldn’t afford to indulge that dream. He was a coward. And he knew it.

“Cecelia?” he called from his room. “I’m not feeling well. You should go to dinner without me.”

Riley rode up to the stables, the energy of a hard day of labor still with him as he took in the land around him. Fifteen acres worth of sweat-streaked dirt covered him from his forehead to his neck, and his muscles were still tense from two hours ago when Robin fell while trying to get her horse to do tricks, but the work had finally been done. An hour and a half longer than it would have taken on his own or with a better-prepared group. Cookie met him at the stable door.

“Don’t go in there,” he warned, a toothpick jutting from the corner of his mouth. “Four of them women are waiting for you.” His gaze shifted to a point behind Riley and he jutted his chin. “And the rest of them behind.”

His stomach clenched. The canter to the stables to buy himself a moment of solitude had failed. These women were so desperate to get all they could out of this singles experience—namely, him. Something must be horribly wrong with the men in their hometowns if they were all so eager to uproot to Little Falls for a cowboy.

An overloud car muffler shook the air as it made its way to the house. Riley stood with his feet in the stirrups and followed the trail of dust to see if he could tell who it was. None of his neighbors would have driven, plus he didn’t recognize the station wagon. It pulled next to the barn and a lanky man got out, searching the women gathered near the stables. He wore light blue jeans ripped at the knee and a sleeveless white shirt. “Daisy!” he yelled. He cupped his mouth and shouted again. “Daisy!!” A dirty gray baseball cap covered his light brown hair.

There was movement to Riley’s right and Daisy planted her horse next to him. If she got any closer they’d be sharing a mount. “Clay, what are you doing here? I told you when I left that I didn’t want to see you anymore.”

“So you leave me to come here and marry a cowboy?” Clay shoved his hands into his pockets.

“At least he knows how to treat a woman!” Daisy’s hand trailed along Riley’s thigh. “His idea of a romantic evening is not watching the birds dive for garbage on the pier!”

How did she know he knew how to treat a woman? He gently tugged the reins and Westley stepped sideways. Okay, so he’d been called emotionally distant a few times. More than a few. But he rarely had any complaints on the first couple of dates. And, also granted, he doubted he would take a woman to watch birds fend for their dinner and call it a good time. He dismounted and the women closed in to get a better view of the proceedings. He searched for the now-familiar golden curls and found Ainsley with Molly at the edge of the crowd. The sight of her relaxed him.

“It’s because I don’t have any money, isn’t it.” Clay kicked the ground. “I can’t buy you your fancy clothes or new shoes or a horse. I didn’t even know you rode, Daisy.”

“Riley taught me.” She gazed at him in adoration before turning her attention back to the other man. “This is not about money. It’s about respect. You don’t respect me.”

“Daisy.” Clay’s voice was a plea. “Please, just talk to me.”

Riley cast a quick glimpse at Ainsley, who was watching with avid interest. His protests over his behavior with Daisy weren’t holding much weight about now. A little smile played about her lips and her eyes sparkled with suppressed amusement. That was a good sign.

Daisy held out her hands to him, and he helped her dismount. Instead of approaching Clay like he expected, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, a quick brushing of her lips against his. Muttering came from the women behind him and he berated himself for not remembering Daisy played by her own set of rules.

Movement caught his attention and he stepped in front of Daisy as Clay got closer, his fists clenched. The man’s hands ended up in his pockets again, his entire body slumping with defeat. “It’s obvious you two have something special going on. I know when I’m beaten.” He stretched out his hand. “You take good care of my woman.”

Accepting the handshake would make it seem like Riley was agreeing. He opened his mouth to speak, raising his hand at the same time. To shake or ward him off, Riley wasn’t sure. Clay grasped Riley’s hand, not giving him a choice.

“Clay, you ever ride around on a ranch?” he asked, his mind in a panic for inspiration.

“I’ve never even been on a horse.” The man’s long face radiated misery.