Читать книгу Cowboy Proud - Kelli Ireland - Страница 11
ОглавлениеCADE HAD BEEN unanimously volunteered for the trip to Amarillo. His protests hadn’t made a bit of difference. Eli had argued as only a lawyer could, defending his ability to manage the contractors and keep them lined out. Reagan’s efforts were split between working with the installers on the placement of the commercial kitchen appliances in the new dining hall and assisting Tyson, whose favorite, and most valuable, mare had gone into labor.
The animal had been in hard labor for about an hour before Cade left, and Ty wasn’t about to let something as mundane a surprise visit from some public relations exec pull him from her side. Reagan might be an entirely capable large animal vet, but the horses were Ty’s life. He was there for every major event, beginning with their birth and ending with either their sale or their death.
Singing along with the radio, cruise set on seventy-five and air conditioner blowing hard to combat the afternoon heat, Cade adjusted his rearview mirror to keep the slowly sinking afternoon sun from blinding him. He crested a slight hill, and Amarillo spread out before him. The city sat ensconced beneath a gritty haze, the dust driven by winds he’d guess were easily thirty miles per hour and gusting higher. While there wasn’t much in the way of a traditional city skyline, the view still left him with the impression of people surrounding him on all sides. Compared to Roy, the tiny town closest to the ranch, he supposed it was more reality, less impression. Harding County, New Mexico, had a total population of less than seven hundred. Last he’d heard, Amarillo was pushing two hundred thousand residents.
He exited the interstate and took Highway 60 north to Airport Road. Despite wearing sunglasses, he still squinted in the bright light as he pulled out his cell and dialed Ms. Graystone’s number.
She answered on the third ring. “Emmaline Graystone.”
Her voice, now more cultivated than irritated, was sultry enough he couldn’t help but take notice. It warmed a body from the inside out, same as a good whiskey sipped on a cold night.
A small, internal voice reminded him that even the smoothest liquors could deliver a vicious bite. Worse, if a man let the drink go to his head, that same warmth could make him do things he’d regret come morning. Still, Cade couldn’t help but wonder how that rich voice would sound in the dark. It wasn’t hard to imagine her whispering against his skin, the whisper of her breath hot and moist over bared skin. To consider how she might—
“Hello?”
Cade shifted in the driver’s seat, irritably adjusting his fly and trying to stop the path his out-of-control imagination had barreled down. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in a fantasy about an unknown woman’s voice—a contractor’s voice, no less. That particular realization did little to cool the inexplicable lust flooding his system, but it was more than sufficient to clear his mind. “Hi.”
“Is...everything okay?” she asked, curiosity unchecked.
“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “This is Cade Covington. We spoke earlier when you called the ranch. The dude ranch. Lassos & Latigos.” He set the phone face down on his thigh and shook his head. Just how many dude ranches do you think she called from the Amarillo airport, idiot? He refocused before replacing the phone to his ear. “I’ll be in front of the airport in about five minutes. You want to meet me curbside, or should I come in and get your bags?”
“I’ll meet you outside.”
“Fair enough. What should I be watching for?”
“I’m about five foot nine, very short dark red hair that’s natural and highlights that aren’t, black sunglasses, sleeveless black dress. Luggage—two pieces—is also black. I have my messenger bag over my shoulder. You can guess the color. I’m a travel cliché and a pretty drab one at that—everything’s black.” Her heels clicked across the tiled floor as she began to walk. “My purse is bright red, though. That might help you pick me out of the crush of people.”
Her dry humor made him chuckle. “I take it you’re used to busier airports than our humble little Amarillo hub.”
“I’ve travelled the world over more than once, Mr. Covington. But an airport with six terminals where at least a dozen men volunteered to retrieve my luggage out of courtesy is a phenomenon I can’t even begin to make sense of. I suppose I sound jaded.” She laughed softly. In the background, he heard the sound of the doors whooshing open and then the mix of traffic and wind sweeping across her phone’s mic. “I’m at the curb. What are you driving?”
He pulled into the passenger drop-off/pickup lane and opened his mouth to answer, but that was as far as his side of the conversation got. He dropped his phone and it bounced off the rubber floor mat, but he made zero effort to retrieve it.
The woman who’d snared his attention pulled her phone from her ear and stared at it in confusion. She had to be Emmaline Graystone. She’d described herself as “drab” only moments before. She’d flat-assed lied.
The short, black dress she wore showcased toned arms, a trim waist and lean legs that, based on the gawking of other drivers, were long enough they should’ve come with a hazard warning. He’d never been a fan of short hair on a woman, but the way the sun lit up her red hair, it appeared almost burnished. And she did, indeed, carry a red purse. All of that was delicious. What she’d neglected to mention were the red lips and siren-red stiletto heels that would be the showcase of his totally inappropriate dreams tonight.
She spoke into the phone, glancing around. Her gaze passed over him, and then snapped back, an eerie recognition on her face. Thumbing her phone off, she dropped it in her bag before reaching up and pulling off her sunglasses.
Cade had dealt with beautiful women before. Emmaline Graystone put every one of them to shame. Her beauty was a quiet demand that he stare whether he wanted to or not. No wonder so many men had offered to help her with her luggage.
The thought made him want to growl. And that shocked him into action. He had no business thinking of her that way. As both a contractor and a ranch guest, she wasn’t some random woman at a bar angling to gain his attention or take him home for the night. That fast, his mind ran off with ideas of all the ways he’d want her if she had come onto him under those circumstances. He’d figure out what made her tick, discover her every desire, particularly the kind that required no clothes and a lot of one-on-one instruction. In the dark. He fought the urge to punch himself in the temple. Instead, he swallowed his pride and retrieved his phone.
Emmaline had already started toward him, and he inched his truck close to the curb before slamming it in Park. He hopped out and jogged around the front to meet her and take her bags, hoisting them into the crew cab’s backseat. The large bags took up the whole bench. Then, steeling himself, he faced her.
In heels, she was only a couple inches shorter than him. Her eyes were the palest green with a dark ring around them. Her nose was short and straight. And her lips... Those lips had been created specifically to go with the rest of her sultry voice and body.
“Since you’ve taken my bags and put them in your truck, I’m going to assume you’re Cade Covington.” She arched a brow, considering him. “That or I’m being abducted in broad daylight and allowing it, which I can’t imagine I would.”
Cade proffered his hand. “Ms. Graystone.” His heart skipped a beat. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Call me Emma. Please.” She took his hand in a firm shake. “We’d have gotten off to a far better start if you’d laid on the cowboy drawl and charm when you answered the phone.”
He shook her hand in return, but when it would have been polite to release her, he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead, he stood there like an idiot, staring at her through dark shades, memorizing her face as if there would be a quiz later.
Her breath stuttered, her hand tightened and then she pulled.
There was no option but to yield to her unspoken demand that he let go. Man, he didn’t want to, though. In fact, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, pull her into the line of his body, to discover the type of perfume she wore—and the brand of lingerie.
It was ridiculous in the extreme. Never had a woman affected him this way, and it left his mind entirely scattered. Opening her door, he handed her into the cab without a word and pulled her seat belt forward, settling the clip in her palm.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she crossed tanned bare legs that ended in those siren’s heels, the dichotomy of elegance and sheer wickedness not lost on him.
No, sir.
This was going to be longest trip to the ranch he’d made from anywhere.
Ever.
* * *
EMMA WASN’T SURE what to make of the man in the driver’s seat. He’d introduced himself, the deep timbre of his voice stealing the common courtesy of her response before it was halfway out. She wanted to listen to him talk. Didn’t matter what he said so long as that voice continued to fill the air around her.
A fine shiver raced over her skin.
That led her straight down the road to considering the way his brief touch had been electrifying, sending little shocks of awareness along her skin. Sure, the contact had been innocent. Her physical response? Not so much. When he’d held on to her, something inexplicable and almost electric had coursed through her. Then she’d tugged, privately engaged in an internal struggle between want and need. She’d desperately wanted him to hold on, to maintain the connection between them; she’d needed him to let go so she could get her bearings.
But the small gesture had left her craving more skin-to-skin contact, and by “more,” her mind was clearly envisioning fewer clothes. Inappropriate images had filled her brain—and that’s when her sanity abandoned her, leaving sparse breadcrumbs should she attempt to find her way back to it. There weren’t enough to follow, though. Not really. Even if she’d wanted to try. For the record? She hadn’t.
In the strangest way, she’d found herself anticipating their road trip. The time in the truck would give her a chance to discover more about both the man and the dude ranch.
Instead of launching into conversation, though, he’d silently put the truck in Drive and pulled away from the curb. That hadn’t set well with her, not as her mind raced over all the things she wanted to figure out about him.
Michael’s point of contact had been Eli Covington, Cade’s brother. Michael had made copious notes about the family’s desires for their new business venture, as well as on Eli’s experience in corporate law and his wife’s role as the ranch’s vet. But he’d included very little information on the two other brothers, save that Cade was the middle brother and Tyson the youngest. It would be up to her to fill in the blanks, not only to satisfy her curiosity but to afford her every opportunity to ensure she delivered a service the Covingtons would be satisfied with and be willing to broadly recommend. This trip provided the perfect starting point.
They left the airport via a two-lane highway. A glance out the window showed flat expanses of desert with occasional arroyos and ever-present, never-ending barbed wire fences that ran parallel to the highway only to be swallowed by the distant horizon. Cows were scattered far and wide. Some fields appeared vacant save for the intermittent pump jacks that pulled oil from Texas’s subterranean depths and sent it on to refineries’ holding tanks. The wind blew hard enough to push the pickup around a bit, sand peppering the windows like invisible bullets. Cade never faltered, was never forced to steady the truck with a second hand. No, he just left his right wrist draped over the top of the wheel and hid behind those dark glasses.
What color are his eyes?
The thought caught Emma off guard, all the more so when she blurted it out.
Cade’s brows winged down and mimicked the corners of his mouth. “My eyes?”
Heat skated across her cheeks. “That’s apparently how I decided to break the silence, yes,” she muttered.
His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Just stared wordlessly down the long road in front of them until she was sure she wasn’t going to get an answer.
Then he reached up, pushed the brim of his black Stetson up and slowly pulled his sunglasses off, shifting slightly to face her.
Her breath caught.
“They’re just blue.”
Definitely blue, but far, far from “just.” His medium brown hair and the darkening hint of what would become a five-o’clock shadow made his eyes appear the pale color of sunlight caught in arctic ice. A much deeper blue ringed the iris. Combined, the two colors created a startling contrast.
Cade rolled his shoulders before shoving his sunglasses on again. “They’re blue,” he said gruffly.
“And Ballyportry Castle could be called stacked stone. Oversimplifying it doesn’t make it any less impressive,” she bit out, both embarrassed and irritated.
His lips twitched again. “You comparing my eyes to some stone castle?”
“No.” She settled deeper into the captain’s chair. “Stone’s cold and gray, not blue.”
“Then why bring up...what was it? Bally-something?” At her silence, he shot her a quick glance. “Emma?”
The sound of her name on his lips made her stomach roll over like a lazy hound lying under the summer sun. “Ballyportry. And I brought it up because I was just there. It’s in Ireland. The place made an impression. For better or worse, so do you. The difference is that the impression you make is more frustrating than fascinating.” She kicked off her heels and tucked one foot under her. No better time than now to begin filling in those blanks. “How in the world did you ever end up winning your wife over?” she groused.
“I’m not married.” Amusement made the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiled. “So, I make an impression, do I?”
“Girlfriend?” she asked.
“No wife, no girlfriend and no friend with benefits.” His gaze shifted to her then returned to the road where late-afternoon heat was stirring up thunderheads on the horizon. “I’d rather talk about this impression I make.”
“First impression was on the phone. You and the castle are the same there—generally unwelcoming.” His smile slipped, but she pressed on. “On meeting, it’s clear both you and the castle are immovable. Now, traveling through what seems to be an almost alien landscape, it’s clear you each situate yourself in the midst of an irascible environment. And if the castle could express emotion, I’d say you both enjoy the fact that the majority of the visitors to your little corner of the world don’t speak the native language.”
He pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them on the dash again before cutting her a sharp look. “Almost sounds as if you don’t think much of me.”
“I don’t know you, and after spending a couple of weeks with you, I doubt I’ll either fall madly in love with you or run screaming from the sheer terror of ranch life. I’d quite prefer it if you’d tell me a little something about yourself, Mr. Covington.” He harrumphed, and one corner of her mouth curled up. “I’ll concede here...Cade.”
“Concede, is it?”
“Seems appropriate since this has evolved into a verbal joust.” A grin spread across her face, surprising her. The verbal sparring was actually fun. She found she enjoyed pricking his ego a bit, so she pressed on. “I don’t suppose cowboys joust, do they? Might be a fun diversion for guests at the dude ranch.”
He scowled, hands twisting the leather-wrapped steering wheel until it squeaked in protest. “Look. I ride. I rope. I wrangle. I do not freaking joust. And, above all, I should never be mistaken for some knight in shining armor. And before you ask, that also means I don’t have or want a damsel in distress. Clear enough?”
Emma pursed her lips and shifted to her hip to consider him full on. “Odd. I was under the impression cowboys were all about saving the day.”
“You’ve watched too much TV, Emma.” He retrieved his sunglasses and slid them on his face with practiced calm.
“Fair enough. If I’m not up to speed on the way cowboys really behave or what they seem to want, educate me.”
He choked, color climbing up from under the collar of his shirt and rising until it reached the band of his hat and disappeared. “Educate you? What do you want to know?” The skepticism in his voice made her laugh out loud. This was so much fun she’d have to add “baiting Cade Covington” to her list of hobbies.
Untucking her foot, she crossed her legs.
Cade’s eyes glazed over and the rough-around-the-edges cowboy was forced to overcorrect to get the truck back on the road.
She crossed her hands in her lap, the picture of innocence. “Educate me the cowboy way, I suppose.”
Cade slowed the truck and pulled it to the side of the empty road. He threw one arm around the headrest of her seat and shifted on his hip to face her. “You want an education?”
The undisguised, unapologetic heat in his voice paired with the sharp smell of rain and ozone from the brewing storm and caused her heart to race to a tattooing beat inside her chest.
“I don’t believe I stuttered,” she managed to get out without her voice shaking.
He traced the line of her jaw, his touch as heated as a branding iron. “This ought to be interesting, then. Want to wager on the results?”
“What?”
“You’ll end up loving or loathing me, darlin’. Which will it be?”
Caught up in the intensity of his pale blue stare, she stuttered. “L-love or loathing?”
“That’s right, Ms. Graystone,” he replied softly, pushing his black Stetson up, again revealing those just-blue eyes. “You’re stuck with me for the next two weeks by your own doing...Emma. So what do you want to bet you either love me or loathe me by the time it’s all over?”
Her wits had become veritable marbles rolling around all willy-nilly inside her. She mentally gathered what she could, forced herself to slow down and then smiled with enough heat to make the asphalt seem frosty. “You want to play? Then we’ll play. But there have to be mutually agreeable, and equally impressive, stakes.”
Now it was Cade who, licking his lips, only nodded.
“If I leave here loathing you, you’ll donate a week at the ranch to the charity of my choosing.”
“And if you end up loving me?” His words were strained, voice so dry it was almost dusty.
“‘Love’ is a little strong, don’t you think? That emotion requires time to grow and prosper, and two weeks won’t cut it.”
His eyes heated. “Ever been in love, Emma?”
Warmth suffused her cheeks. “Not really a believer in happily-ever-after endings.”
“No? What do you believe in, then?”
She shrugged.
“C’mon, Emma. There has to be something,” Cade pressed. “And why wouldn’t you believe in true love?”
“You can’t believe in something you’ve never seen, never experienced.”
His eyes widened. “Yeah, actually, you can. It’s called having faith in someone or something. It’s like sitting down in a chair. I know it’s a chair because, even if I personally have never sat in a chair, I’ve watched others do it. So when I go to sit down, I have faith the chair will do what it was supposed to do and hold me up because I’ve witnessed it do so for others. Faith.” He reached up and undid the collar button on his shirt. “You probably understand more about love than you realize you do, Emma. You’ve witnessed it, whether over dinner with friends or between a man and woman standing on a busy street corner, so caught up in each other they miss their bus and don’t care. That’s love, so you’ve got something to draw on.”
She shifted in her seat, her gaze roaming the grandeur of the plains, her mind trying to commit the smallest details to memories.
He pressed further. “So, what—you want me to believe you’ve never loved anyone and never seen someone in love?” He settled his black Stetson firmly before shaking his head. “I don’t buy it, Ms. Graystone. Someone who looks like you? She’s been loved before, even if from afar.”
“It’s pretty to think so, isn’t it? Regardless, appearances have no bearing on love, particularly true love. Have you never watched a Disney movie? Beauty and the Beast, for example. Beautiful woman falls in love with a man cursed to beastly form. But love changes everything, making her whole and him the handsome prince he’d been before.” Emma fought to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “A fantastic tale that creates false hope in girls.” She choked on a bitter laugh. “As a kid, I wasn’t given anything but the hard truth. No disillusionment. Ever.”
“My old man was a real piece of work, too. Mom? We all swore she was an angel, but we lost her way too early. I get the maladjusted family bit,” he said, resting his wrist across the steering wheel casually. “We’ve all got some kind of dysfunction that dogs our heels. Doesn’t mean we have to let it herd us where it will, though.”
“You think I let my history determine my future?” How could he judge her? “I grew up with nannies. Some were young and nubile and spent a great deal of time in my father’s office. Then there were the rigid hardliners who stayed just long enough to offend my mother before being dismissed.
“It didn’t matter which camp they were in, though. Affection was forbidden. They were there to raise me, not coddle me.” She forced a smile. “My parents hated each other, but it was a strategic financial match, a practical investment of individual strengths in order to achieve mutual goals. So tell, me, Cade. Where in all of that should I have found faith in love and family? Perhaps somewhere between courses at dinner when I was allowed to eat with my parents so long as I didn’t speak? Or maybe at school, where my parents were the repeat no-shows for everything from concerts to parent-teacher conferences? No? I’ve got it! How about when I thought I’d bank on love and entered into a joint business venture they approved of with a man they’d chosen and suggested I marry in order to forge a stronger connection between the family businesses?” Her mind flashed to Michael, her business partner, the same one she currently suspected might be sabotaging the business she’d started before she’d met him and allowed him to buy in. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t get totally on board with the whole ‘love saves the day’ mentality.”
Lines appeared at the corners of Cade’s mouth as his frown deepened, but he didn’t comment on her outburst. He simply drove on, only the radio and road noise cutting the silence.
The reference to Michael reminded Emma of her worries. She’d left him a voice mail this morning, asking him to call her as soon as possible. The only thing she’d received was a text. “Good luck in the Wild West, Annie Oakley! Send a picture of you on a horse. Thanks for taking over this account and assuming responsibility for the Covington’s new dude ranch.”
The last line had bothered her. Why had he laid responsibility for both the account and, in particular, his clients at her feet?
“I’m under no delusions about what I want,” Cade said. His words sounded louder in a truck cab that had been silent as they’d traveled across the flat grassland all the way to the base of a mountain range.
She shook off thoughts of Michael. “Want? For what?”
“For our wager. When I have you wrapped around my little finger with love in your eyes, I want you to refund the money we’ve paid you and do all the PR and marketing for the dude ranch pro bono for the next two years.”
“I’ll take those stakes.” And she would do it without regret. There was a better chance of her taking up competitive hurling—Ireland’s official “sport” that was more like sanctioned war with blunt objects and no armor—than fall in love.
She glanced at him to gauge his reaction and found herself nearly struck dumb by the unguarded thrill of challenge on his face. One corner of Cade’s mouth kicked up to reveal a deep dimple, then he winked at her. He shifted his attention to the long stretch of road before them that appeared, from her vantage point, as if it turned into the mountain and then was swallowed by it.
He’d winked at her.
There’d been nothing offensive at all in the flirtatious gesture, but her body’s response was positively traitorous. Heat bloomed between her thighs. She rubbed her legs together subtly, longing for his touch, absolutely craving the kind of heat a man like Cade could offer, the kind that would assuage her unanticipated, uncomplicated desires. Her heart beat a rock-hard rhythm inside her chest and a fine sweat decorated her upper lip.
Images of the two of them intertwined flashed through her brain. Her imagination had definitely missed the memo that she was a woman who did not have physical or emotional responses. But, client or not, she craved Cade’s touch like a hummingbird craved nectar—in a mandatory, had-to-have-it kind of way.
Forcing her attention to the quickly changing scenery, she watched as they traversed a bridge straddling a wide but shallow and very rocky creek.
She also noticed that the blue of the sky was slowly being eaten away by encroaching dark clouds that were tinged with the oddest shade of green. Gesturing to the clouds, she found her voice. “Is that going to be okay?”
Cade glanced at her. “You’re safe with me, Emma.”
She nodded and swallowed so loud he had to have heard it over the radio. “Sure.” Unbidden, a quote from Mark Twain wandered through her consciousness. The famous wordsmith had said, “There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it absolutely desirable.” And he’d been absolutely right.
She’d never been sexually attracted, let alone tempted, by a client. Cade had broken that track record. Shattered it, really. But he’d broken Twain’s theoretical “rule.” Cade had started out desirable—the kind of desirable that made a woman throw caution to the wind and go where chance led her. Whatever this thing was, she’d negotiate with regret later. For the first time, Emma wanted to set all the pressures of life and work aside and do nothing more than simply experience what it was to be alive.
She knew with inexplicable certainty that this man could give her that.
