Cowboy, it's Christmas, page 5
“Well, it’s too late. I already told Beulah at church, and it worked. Everyone thinks we’re dating and they’re already looking for someone else to be Mr. Cowboy.” The words came out in a rush and, boy, did she feel stupid when his eyes grew wide, then narrowed. “So, you’re welcome.”
“I wish you hadn’t.”
But she wasn’t scared. Instead, she was gall-darned mad. Fury spiked through her and her heart raced as fast as a cornered rabbit’s.
“Really, Wade? I’m so awful that you can’t even pretend that you’re mine?”
He flinched, and she realized he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying.
“That’s…that’s not the problem.”
“Then, what is it? If it’s my family, I already told you we won’t lie to them.”
“I wish that were it, but that’s not it, either.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw.
“Are you going to tell me? Do you already have a girlfriend?”
“No, but I wish I’d thought of that.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not fast enough on my feet or I would have thought to tell you that I already have a girlfriend. Another fake girlfriend, so I can’t have you be my fake girlfriend as that might offend her. Maybe that would have worked.”
She felt dizzy with the lies. “Gosh, you lost me.”
“That makes two of us.”
He took several steps toward her, so close she could smell the leather of his boots and see the gold specks in his caramel-brown eyes. It didn’t escape her fondest memories that he’d only been a little closer than this the time he’d kissed her. He reached to tug on a lock of her hair, further enhancing that memory. Now she could almost smell the peaches that had been ripe that September. If she dared to close her eyes right now, she might also remember the taste of his lips on hers, his warm tongue exploring.
But she didn’t dare close her eyes because she didn’t want to miss a thing.
“This is playing with fire. If we spend too much time pretending, I’m going to fool myself. And then we’re going to wind up in bed. Which wouldn’t be a good idea.”
This sounded like a fine idea to her. It sounded like an adventure and she was ripe for one of those.
When his thumb lowered to trace her bottom lip, she nearly lost her balance. “Wh-why not?”
He took a step back, breaking the spell. “Because I’m too old for you.”
“No, you’re not. Maybe when I was eighteen you were, but not now. That age difference has a way of not being quite as important anymore.”
“I’m also a broke-down cowboy, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He held his left arm out.
“I don’t care about any of that.”
“Maybe I do.”
“I don’t think that’s fair. You should let me decide.”
His gaze slid appreciatively down her breasts, to her legs. “Damn, Peanut, you’re all grown up, aren’t you?”
She was glad she’d worn her new jeans tonight that were a size too small.
“Well, I’m glad you noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed.” He sent her a slow and easy smile. “Okay, look. If we’re going to do this, we’ll damn well do it my way.”
Chapter 5
Wade was already exhausted. Maybe it was the meds. They made his brain fuzzy while they simultaneously took care of the pain. He would need a full night’s sleep to find a way out of this mess.
Pretending to be anything more than friends would be playing with fire.
Daisy Carver was beautiful. To Wade, she always had been. He didn’t care that she dressed casually and never made an effort to look particularly feminine. No long and manicured nails on her. No hair extensions or false lashes. Just long, natural blond hair and equally long legs. She usually kept her hair in a high ponytail which gave her a perpetually girlish look. But tonight, the second time he’d seen her in as many days, she’d let her hair down. And he was a goner. He pictured fisting a handful of that hair while he kissed her until she begged him to stop. Or asked him to never stop.
A thick layer of sexual tension had always flickered between them, one that, try as Wade might want to deny, had never gone away. He could tell himself this heap of desire and lust was happening to him now because he hadn’t been with a woman in so long. But although accurate, that wasn’t the reason he now stared at Daisy like he wanted to take her to bed and keep her there for days.
The point was, he’d like to think he was a better man than that. She of all women deserved better than a dried-up rodeo cowboy with a practically lame arm. If he felt this way at thirty-three, what would he be like at fifty? He didn’t want to saddle her with an older man and his orthopedic problems, all due to his lifestyle choices. All due to wanting to be the best in the rodeo and to indulging an addiction to adrenaline rushes.
When he’d had to start over and pick a new career, ranching was his only option. Stone Ridge was home, even if he didn’t have quite the same attachment that some of the ranching families had to the land itself. Too many memories of his mother here. She’d held on to this land so tightly Wade wondered if in the end it had killed her. To Wade, land was just dirt, and he didn’t know why people were willing to die over it.
Daisy was a rancher’s daughter through and through and she loved this town with the same reverence that his mother had. She deserved a man who wouldn’t slowly die stuck in this small town.
He was off-limits, too old for her, too experienced. It didn’t matter that she made his heart switch like a kitten’s tail. They were never going to happen.
But he supposed, if she wanted to pretend for a while, it might help him out.
“Okay, Peanut.”
This is what he did with Daisy. He called her nicknames and tweaked her nose. Tousled her hair. Kept it affectionately tender and nonsexual. Safe. But his skills with women were sorely rusty as he hadn’t even been with a woman in one long year. He seemed to remember being a whole lot more charming than this.
“But if we’re going to do this, I have a few rules of my own.”
“Okay.” She took a seat on his living room couch, tucking one luscious leg under. “Tell me.”
Those jeans she wore were so tight he half wondered if she’d painted them on. He tried hard to focus. Parameters. Boundaries. He needed them before he lost his fool head. Again.
“Light PDA. Hand-holding, kisses on the cheek, that kind of thing.”
“Are you kiddin’ me? No one’s going to believe we’re for real. Not with your reputation.”
He used to be proud of that reputation, had been when he was younger, but now it stung to think even Daisy categorized him there.
“I’ll make it look real. Don’t you worry about that.”
“What about a light kiss on the lips? No tongue.”
“Tongue is out of the question.”
“In public, sure. I agree.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s all this is. In public fake dating.”
“Sure, but we should spend a little time in private practicing all this or it’s sure going to look ridiculous.”
He squinted. “Ridiculous?”
“Fake.”
“Uh-huh. Which it is.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you’re being this thick. Work with me here!”
The problem was he wanted to work her. He wanted to work her so good she’d have trouble walking the next day. Oh, crap. No. Those thoughts weren’t allowed in his head. Okay, maybe just in his head where they could do no harm.
He was enjoying the fantasy and didn’t realize Daisy was staring at him.
“Does that make sense?” she asked.
While indulging himself, he must have missed something. “Does what make sense?”
“The Riverwalk this weekend? Our first out-in-public date. Everyone will be there.”
He hadn’t planned on the Riverwalk. In fact, he hadn’t been out of the house much. Once in a while he dropped by the Shady Grind, but with Lincoln MIA these days, Wade had begun to grow sick of all the rodeo questions.
How many concussions have you had, in total?
How many bones have you broken?
What happened? Did you lose your focus?
Did you hear the bone crack?
How much blood?
He wished he could claim a lack of focus on the day he’d broken his arm. Instead, everything had gone perfectly that day. He’d been enjoying the attentions of a buckle bunny just minutes before, but no one took his focus off the ring. His focus had always been key in his success. The problem was his age, and a body breaking down from all the beating it took over the years. And unlike Lincoln, Wade had failed to quit while ahead. Now he was the focus of commentary on what could go wrong on the way to the top. How close one could come and still lose it all.
Yeah, that was him. A cautionary tale.
“Sure, yeah. The Riverwalk. That sounds okay.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You keep everyone away from me that wants to talk about the rodeo. Deal?”
“You don’t want to talk about the rodeo?”
“It’s all anyone ever asks me about. I’m sick of talking about the accident. Tired of talking about this arm.” He touched it lightly.
“Does it hurt much?”
“Only if I breathe.” When she winced, he chuckled. “Just kiddin’, Peanut. I’m good.”
“Also, stop calling me Peanut. I’m not twelve.”
He cleared his throat. “Alright. What other pet name is good?”
“It’s a pet name?”
“Sure, what else would it be?”
“I think it’s that name you call me when you want to put some distance between us.” She crossed her arms. “Like Squirt and Twerp.”
Okay, he was officially out of his league here. Daisy wasn’t just gorgeous, she was smart as a whip, and nobody’s fool. For years, he’d had a steady diet of women who wanted only one thing from him. He gave that away easily enough.
He tried a smile. “You might be right about that.”
“I know I am.” She sent him a conspiratorial wink. “Since I’m helping you with this, maybe you could help me with something, too.”
“Yeah, name it, Pe—uh, name it.”
“Well, here’s the thing. You might have noticed that I haven’t had a serious relationship. Like, ever.”
“Hadn’t noticed.”
“Of course you haven’t.” She untucked her leg and repositioned herself on the couch, knees pointed toward him. “It’s not like I have trouble finding men who are interested in me.”
“No doubt.”
“It’s just that most of them aren’t as brave as you are.”
He scratched his temple. “How’s that, now?”
“I have two big brothers who are overly protective.”
“And me. You’ve got me.” He thumped his chest.
“Right. But you’re not my brother, don’t forget.”
“I’ll still kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”
“Anyway, that’s why I’m not all that experienced, you know, at being someone’s girlfriend.”
“Okay. I understand.”
“You do?” She brightened.
Now he wasn’t sure that he did, because the fact that he understood seemed to greatly encourage her. He must have missed something. “Um, do I?”
“Geez, do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Apparently.”
She covered her face. “Don’t make me do that. It’s too embarrassing.”
“C’mon, you can tell me anything. I’ve kept all your secrets. I have no clue what—”
And then he stopped talking. Because he suddenly knew exactly what Daisy was referring to and it hit him square in the solar plexus. Nearly knocked all the air out of him, just like that time Satan threw him during practice and nearly impaled him on a post.
And he found himself wishing he was in that situation right now instead of this one.
“You figured it out,” she said quietly, lowering her gaze.
“Daisy, are you a virgin? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“Yeah, kind of. A little bit. Mostly.”
He ran a hand down his face. Poor Daisy. “Why are you telling me this?”
“First, I trust you. You won’t tattle, even if everybody probably already knows. But it’s nobody’s business.”
“I’ll take it to my grave, sweetheart.” He made a motion to sweep his finger across his heart.
“Second, because you should know why I might act a little awkward on our dates together. Why I might not know all the right moves.”
“What part of fake don’t you understand? Don’t worry about any of that.”
“And third, and this is the tough one. Because I thought you might help me with my moves.”
All the blood rushed out of his head. It was as if someone had hit him with a baseball bat.
“Moves?”
“How to turn a guy on, that kind of thing. I’ve waited too long for the right man and this is the year I have a little adventure.”
“Why do you want to do that? It’s nice…being a virgin.” He lowered his voice even if they could only be heard by Dante and Satan.
He could not believe they were having this conversation.
“Nice? Are you kiddin’ me? It makes me…weird. I’m too old to be a virgin.”
“Maybe you should get married. That will take care of it.”
“Right, because ‘nice girls’ get married first.” She held up air quotes. “Don’t give me that eighteenth-century stuff. I’m a modern woman. I have to be sure I don’t marry a man who likes to tie his wife up for sexy times.”
Oh, now there went an image he’d never be able to wash out of his brain.
He wanted to tear his hair out. “You are driving me nuts. Look, I don’t want to be the guy who ‘teaches’ you.” Now he held up air quotes.
This could get complicated. Playing with fire wasn’t the right term here. They were fooling around with a nuclear bomb.
Maybe he should have hightailed it out of town the day after Daisy appeared on his doorstep. Hell, he could still get out now while the gettin’ was good. He’d leave a note, escape the biddies, Mr. Cowboy, and the woman who was single-handedly trying to kill him.
Coward.
See? You won’t win, he told his arm. I’m still young. I can have a life and fool around with a beautiful woman.
No, this was Daisy, for crying out loud. Peanut. But his Peanut was all grown up, and when he wasn’t looking, she’d turned into a sexpot.
Gulp. He pulled at the neckline of his shirt. Was it hot in here?
“You did the right thing waiting. You should be in love your first time,” he said.
“Were you in love your first time?”
Hell no. In fact, someone older had initiated him, which made him wonder if he was playing the double-standard card. He’d been sixteen, and granted, tall for his age. She’d been twenty-five or so, visiting her cousins when she found him in the barn one night. Wade thought she’d been looking for Lincoln, whom she’d flirted with all night, but she shook her head and said “no.” She’d straddled him, lifted up her skirt, and that was all she wrote.
He didn’t even remember her name.
“Okay. I think it’s time for you to go home. My head hurts.”
She rose, a look of concern in her eyes that immediately made him sorry he’d said anything. “Not your arm?”
“My arm is fine compared to my brain. It’s about to explode.”
She blinked. “Are you mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad. Just very…”
Torn and confused.
Weary. Injured. You name it.
“It’s okay. I’ve given you a lot to think about.” She walked toward the front door. “But remember this weekend. The Riverwalk.”
Then she turned and sashayed her cute behind out of his home. Slowly, he closed the door. The framed photo of his mother on the fireplace mantel smiled back at him.
And if she could see him now from heaven, she was laughing and saying: “I told you so.”
* * *
Somehow, Wade made it through the rest of the week without seeing Daisy. Thank the sweet baby Jesus, the casseroles stopped coming every day, and he had few interruptions. No more mention of Mr. Cowboy or how important it was that he settle down with a good woman. Maybe he could actually get some work done around here.
Lincoln came by a few times, to check in, and yell at him to take care of his arm and do his physical therapy. Then he’d offer to do some of Wade’s chores and only leave when Wade kicked him out.
Wade’s arm hurt every day, but especially after a long day of ranch work. He found himself taking several pain pills a day, hating that he needed them. Someday this would get better. His arm would be fully healed and with any luck no residual pain. But the pain made him feel old, lame, and useless. Still, being permanently sidelined from the rodeo meant he had to find another way to make a living. For the rest of his life.
When he went into the barn for feed or equipment, he glared at the Model T that sat there like a relic of times gone by. An antique, a gift from his father. Mocking him.
On Tuesday and Wednesday, Wade worked on the fence line. He was so bored that he nearly fell asleep standing up. Safe to say, ranching was nothing like the rodeo. He imagined the only adrenaline shot he might have was if the barn fell down, which at this point looked like three to one odds. He’d take that bet.
Dante and Satan were the only animals left on a formerly large cattle ranch. Once, they’d had thirty head of cattle, two bulls, a stable of horses, pigs, and goats. He might not be much of a rancher, but his father had been, and his father before him. Wade might have been a rancher, too, but early on Jorge Cruz saw something special in Wade.
He noticed that his only son was fearless. When Wade was ten, he’d walked across the top of the wood pigpen fence, fallen in, and nearly been lunch. He’d tried to explain to his father that he thought he’d clear it and only missed it by an inch. He’d do better next time.
