Caught Up in a Cowboy, page 10
“What are you talking about? You never came back.”
“Yes, I did. I knew I’d made a mistake, but I was too pigheaded and stubborn to admit it. And the first chance I had to come home, I did. I was planning to show up at your house and grovel until you took me back. It wasn’t until I got back to town that I heard about you and Hill. And that I was too late. That I’d screwed up and missed my chance.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Why would I? As far as I was concerned, you’d made your decision, and you’d moved on. Without me. I went back to Denver and threw myself into school and my career and tried to forget about you.”
“Did you?” Her voice softened, almost to a whisper. “Forget about me?”
“Never.” He rubbed his fingertips across the side of her hand. “Not for a single day.”
She pulled her hand away. “Then why didn’t you ever come tell me? What the hell took you so long to apologize?”
He winced at the anger and resentment in her tone, but a grin slowly crept across his face. “I do love it when you get fired up,” he answered in a slow, sexy drawl.
She narrowed her eyes, trying to keep a straight face, but the corners of her mouth tipped up, and she let out an exasperated chuckle. “You’re still the only person who can tease me out of a good mad.”
“That’s because I don’t want you to be mad anymore.” The teasing tone was gone, replaced with a more serious one. “I meant it when I said I was looking to put the past behind us. I’ve missed you.”
She stared at him, her eyes searching his face. “I can’t tell if you’re being for real.”
Funny enough, it was the realest he’d been with a woman—hell, with himself—in a long time. After he’d lost Quinn, he’d set himself on a course of selfishness, taking what he wanted, when he wanted, and not thinking about who he hurt or how his actions were affecting others.
The only people he cared about were his brothers, his mother, and his teammates. With them, he gave his all. With everyone else, he could care less.
Until now.
Until the last few days, when he’d run into Quinn and the past had smacked him in the face. He’d thought he might have a chance to win back some of himself and win back the friendship of the only girl he’d ever truly loved.
“Ya know, it’s funny we’re talking about Monty tonight,” she said, smoothing her napkin across her lap. “Max brought him up last night, and he doesn’t usually talk about him. Like hardly ever.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me what kind of books he liked to read. It was totally random and out of the blue.”
Uh-oh. Maybe not totally random.
“The only thing I can think is that maybe reading books with you the other day might have brought up some feelings about wanting to read books with his own dad.”
He had a feeling that was exactly what happened. Damn it, he should have kept his stupid mouth shut. “So what did you say?”
“I didn’t know what to say. I try not to say anything bad about his dad. Heck, I try not to say anything about him at all. I try to act like the man doesn’t even exist. And I think that’s how he acts about us too.”
“Idiot. Him, not you.”
“I know what you meant. And he is an idiot. He’s a jerk and an asshole that’s missing out on having a relationship with one of the best kids ever.”
“It’s his loss.”
“I know that. And I don’t really care about him or what he’s feeling. But I care about Max. I worry sometimes. I worry about him not having a normal family.”
“What the heck is a normal family?”
“You know what I mean. I hate that he doesn’t have that steady, whole family unit.”
“Well, you didn’t have that steady, whole family unit.”
“My point exactly.”
“Stop beating yourself up. He’s got you, and Ham, and Logan. And you’re doing a dang fine job with him. He’s smart and funny and seems like a perfectly well-adjusted kid. Kids are resilient. They take stuff in stride.”
“I hope that’s true. I want to believe that’s true.”
“Believe it,” he assured her.
Although what the heck did he know about it? He didn’t have kids, didn’t really even know that many kids. For all he knew, Max could turn out to be a serial killer. But he didn’t think so. Not in his gut.
In his gut and in his heart, he knew Max was a sweet boy. A good kid.
The kind of kid he’d like to have some day. He and Quinn were just the kind of family Rock had always imagined he would have.
A wave of guilt washed through him. What was he doing getting mixed up in their lives? He wasn’t their family, and he wasn’t going to be. He had a life, in a different city, in a different world. A world of professional hockey, where he traveled and spent the majority of his time in ice rinks and locker rooms and gyms.
He was only in town for a short time. It wasn’t fair to give her or Max the impression that he was sticking around. Did he think he could just drop in, play the hero for a little bit, then take off again?
Was he doing that with Quinn? Was he leading her on—setting her up to think he was back when he knew he’d be going to Denver as soon as his coach gave him the all clear?
After all that stuff he’d just told her—about how he’d changed, was more responsible—was he still just being selfish? Was he still thinking only of his own needs and not of the needs of a little boy? Or of the little boy’s mother, who had been through enough, as his own mother had recently reminded him.
He opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what, but he was saved from having to speak by the arrival of the waitress, who set steaming-hot plates covered in thick slabs of steak onto the table. A plump baked potato sat next to each steak, a rounded scoop of butter melting down the outside of the crispy skin.
“Anything else I can get you folks?” the waitress asked.
Rock cleared his throat. “We’re good,” he said, finally finding his voice. “Thanks.”
Quinn looked down at her plate. “This looks delicious.”
“What are you waiting for? Dig in,” he told her, thankful for the distraction. This he could handle. Talking about food was easy. Talking about the past, not so much.
He just needed to keep the conversation light. They’d dredged up enough history for the night. Time to focus on something else.
He watched her cut a piece from the steak and stick the bite into her mouth.
Her lips sealed around the tines of the fork, and she closed her eyes and let out a moan as she chewed.
Holy crap. It wasn’t enough that her laugh had funny, tingling sensations running down his spine, or that the way her thick hair curled against her slender neck made his hands itch to run his fingers through it, now she was going to destroy him with the way she ate. Everything about Quinn was beautiful to him, but now this woman even made eating steak look sexy.
Rock’s mouth had suddenly gone dry at the sound of her soft moan of pleasure, and he took a sip of water and focused on his own steak. Taking a bite, he realized why she’d made that incredibly sexy sound. “Dang. This is good.”
“So good,” she said, sticking another bite in her mouth.
He liked to watch her eat. Liked to watch the way she dug into and enjoyed her food, gaining pleasure from each bite.
They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, prepping their food and eating.
“So, tell me about your job,” he said, setting his fork down.
“Oh gosh, I don’t think we have enough time. There’s so much to say. So much excitement happening in the ever-changing world of preparing fancy, overpriced coffee drinks.”
He chuckled. “Do you enjoy it?”
“It’s a job. And some days it’s fun. I like getting out of the house and talking to people. I only work part-time, and Sarah tries to schedule me when Max is in school, so that’s good. Plus it gives me some money of my own and makes me feel like I’m not so dependent on my dad.”
“I was surprised to hear that my mom babysits him sometimes.”
“Yeah, your mom is amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Especially when Max was little. She’s the closest thing he will ever get to having a grandma.”
He must really have been out of touch. “I had no idea that my mom helped you so much. Even back then.”
Quinn’s shoulders went up in an off-hand shrug. “You weren’t around. You were gone all the time, either at school or traveling with the team. I used to hope that I would run into you, when I was at your house. Then I stopped, and hoped that I wouldn’t. Because you hardly ever came home. And once you went pro, it seemed like you never came home at all.”
Was that true? He thought back over the last few years. It wasn’t like he didn’t see his family. They came to Denver often enough, and he’d bought season tickets for them to attend games whenever they could make it down.
He saw them, but it was usually in between the things he had going on. And they made the trip to the city more often than he made it back to the ranch. He tried to get home, at Christmastime and always for a few weeks in the summer, during the off-season. But something was always going on, something that demanded his attention, which kept him away from the ranch. Something that was always more important.
His shoulders sagged as shame filled him. Vivi never complained, never hassled him or made him feel guilty for not making it home more. She’d only ever acted proud of him.
He didn’t feel very proud of himself right now. Had he neglected her and his family?
“You’re right. I haven’t made it back home much. The team keeps me pretty busy.”
“It’s a big commitment. And maybe if I were all famous, like you, I wouldn’t come home as much either.”
But she would. Not that he was “all famous,” but he knew Quinn would always make time for her family.
The waitress approached with the check. “You want dessert? We make a pretty mean peach cobbler.”
“Oh, that’s Max’s favorite,” Quinn said.
Rock handed over his debit card. “We’ll take three peach cobblers, to go.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow as the waitress walked away. “Three?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you say it’s Max’s favorite?”
“You do surprise me, Rockford James.”
“Good.” He offered her a wink and a smile, trying not to think about all of the ways he would like to surprise her. Like with flowers, or diamonds, or by taking her mouth in a passionate kiss.
He looked out over the rushing water of the stream. A path wound along the side of the creek. “You want to take a walk? We can put the dessert in the car and then see if we can work off a little of those baked potatoes?” And get his mind on something besides thoughts of kissing her.
Although from the way his mind had been working all night, it was going to take more than a stream-side stroll to accomplish that.
* * *
Quinn paused at the edge of the stream and stooped to pick up a flat, smooth stone. She held it up to Rock. “Remember how we used to have stone-skipping competitions down at the pond?”
“Of course.”
“Everything was a challenge to you. You were always so competitive.”
“I still am,” he said with a chuckle as he searched the ground for a rock to skip.
They had spent hours at the pond that sat between their two ranches, she and Logan, and Rock and his brothers. It was where they’d learned to swim in the summer and where they’d all learned to ice skate in the winter. Rock had been smitten with hockey from the first time he’d donned skates, and he’d convinced them all to learn so he’d always have someone to practice with.
Being the oldest, he could talk them all into doing just about anything. But his love for the game of hockey was a singular and passionate desire. Enough that he talked his mom into signing him up for a league in the closest town that offered one, and they spent hours driving to weekly practices and games.
Both of his brothers played, and even Logan played for a season or two, but none of them had wanted it, had needed it, the way Rock did. Even as a kid, hockey was in his blood. She could see it in every game he played, in the hours he spent practicing skating on the pond in the winter, and shooting pucks in the barn all year round.
She always knew that he would try for a career in hockey, and she’d always supported him in that dream. Always believed in him, and had assumed she would join him in following that dream. That was until he left her behind to follow it on his own.
Remnants of that heartbreak snuck into her thoughts, and her chest tightened as emotion filled her throat.
What was she doing out on a date—or out to dinner or whatever the heck this was—with him? Why was she letting his stupid, crooked smile and his stupid, gorgeous blue eyes get to her?
This was the guy who’d taken her heart and smashed it into a million pieces, who’d left her broken and ruined, who’d walked away and never looked back.
Except, apparently, he had looked back—he’d come back to get her. But it had been too late.
It was too late then, and it was too late now.
It didn’t matter how many sparkles of heat shot through her or how ridiculously muscled his arms were or how his offer of peace between them filled her heart with a secret longing of hope, the cold, hard truth was that he wasn’t back. Not really. He was back only for now.
She knew that as soon as he recovered, he would be hightailing it back to Denver as fast as his speedy little convertible could take him. So why was she letting herself fall under his spell?
Why was she laughing and—for cripes’ sakes—blushing every time he’d teased her or offered her a compliment tonight?
She sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t let herself fall victim to him again, couldn’t let him back into her heart—couldn’t let him hurt her again.
He’d broken her heart and ruined her for any other man, but he hadn’t broken her spirit.
Old wounds fought their way to the surface, and she tried to push them back down, tried with the only weapon she had against them. Flickers of anger seeped through her, like a den of snakes waking up, uncoiling and slithering outward, like a starburst of poison radiating from her heart and out through her chest.
Gripping the stone tightly in her hand, she turned away from him and flung it at the water. The stone skipped across the stream, bouncing across the water several times before disappearing.
“Wow. You’ve gotten better,” Rock teased.
Yes, she had. She had gotten better. Not just with skipping stones, but in life. She’d gotten over him and put the past behind her.
Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, sister.
She whipped around, anger fueling her, ready to tell him what she thought of him, of what he’d done to her.
But her footing slipped on the slick rocks of the bank, twisting her ankle and throwing off her balance. She cartwheeled her arms, letting out a sharp cry and stumbling as she fell toward the stream.
Chapter 9
Strong hands grabbed her arms, pulling her back and saving Quinn from falling into the creek.
“I’ve got you,” Rock said as he pulled her against his hard, muscled chest.
She gripped his shirt, clutching the fabric between her fingers as she struggled to catch her breath.
“You’re okay,” he assured her, but still held her tightly against him.
She let herself melt into him, just for a moment, letting her defenses down to relish in his embrace, to savor the feel of his sturdy arms around her as her soft body molded into his hard one.
As if it had a power of its own, her cheek pressed into his chest, and she inhaled his scent—a heady combination of laundry detergent and expensive musky cologne.
He held on to her, not moving, not pulling away, just standing on the bank, the sound of the creek rushing in the background, and holding her in his arms.
She didn’t move either—didn’t slide her arms around his waist, but also didn’t break away. She just stood in the circle of his arms, letting herself take comfort in his embrace, feeling the angry snakes in her chest settle and curl back into slumber.
Maybe they could be friends.
Maybe she could let Rock back into her life. He had been a foundation of her childhood and her time in school. He had always been there, and she had felt the absence of him in her life, not just in the romantic aspect, but in the simplest moments of something happening and having her first thought be of wanting to tell him about it.
They had shared everything. And he had always been there for her to talk to. To confide in. To share the details of their lives.
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly into her hair, mirroring her thoughts just as he used to. Sometimes she swore she couldn’t have an original thought because Rock seemed to always be thinking the same thing or knowing just what was on her mind.
She tipped her head back, gazing up at him and swallowing back the emotions filling her throat. “I’ve missed you too. I was just thinking about how we used to share everything, even the smallest details of our lives, and now it’s like we don’t know anything about each other. I really only know what’s going on with you from the media reports and the few things I’ve heard from your mom.”
He grinned. “My mom is like a news station herself. She always knows what’s going on.”
“Yeah, but regardless of how big your ego is, we don’t talk about you very much. Even though you’re still like the six-foot-four, blond-headed elephant in the room. I think she’s always worried that it would hurt me more to talk about you, so we usually avoid the subject altogether.”
He blinked. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
