Chapter Eleven – Cowboy Casanova
Chapter Eleven
Sadie
COWBOY CASANOVA
Performed by Carrie Underwood
Rafe’s face was cast in shadows with the light of the moon shining behind him. I wondered, if I could see them better, if his eyes would be full of the icy disdain he was so good at or if they’d hold the glimpse of hurt and anger I’d caught before he’d schooled his expression earlier. Either way, it disturbed my peace. The intense stare. The emotions—or lack of them—he tossed my way.
He’d been good at disturbing my peace since the moment I’d met him. I’d finally recovered some of it after the confrontation at the house by sitting here, watching the stars twinkle, and listening to the sounds of the wild rustling around me. Now, my emotions were in shambles again, simply because he was sitting a boulder away.
My desire was muddled with uncertainty. I didn’t understand why he thought I was working with Lorenzo to ruin him somehow, and I really didn’t understand how, even knowing he thought the worst of me, my body still craved him. Still wanted those firm, commanding lips to give me the heady rush I’d felt in his penthouse. Wanted the release he’d promised and not delivered.
I could do nothing about my body’s reaction to him, but I could try to change his mind about what was happening with me and my potential cousin.
“I have no idea what Lorenzo wants with you. I have no idea what’s gone on to make you hate each other just like I had no idea you were related to the Harringtons. I’m here for personal reasons that have nothing to do with you.”
He didn’t respond. Not a sound or a scoff or even a heavy inhale, and yet I could tell he still doubted me. After all, if I was working with Lorenzo to destroy him, I’d hardly admit it.
“Look. I don’t know what I’ve stumbled into, but that’s all I’ve done—stumbled into a situation I know nothing about. If I’d known I’d see you again, I certainly wouldn’t have come onto you in the bar or agreed to go with you to your penthouse. I was looking for one night of pleasure. That’s it.”
“I find it hard to believe,” he said, his voice low and deep but not angry. It sounded tired instead, as if he’d just waged a battle, and even though he’d been declared the victor, he’d taken no pleasure or relief in winning it.
“I don’t even understand how you’re here,” I told him. “You said it’s your property, but your name is Marquess not Harrington, right? And after Sunday, I knew you had a daughter, but I didn’t see her. I had no idea she was the girl I saw on the website with Lauren and Spencer. I thought she was their child.”
“Fallon is mine.” His tone brooked no argument, possessive in a way my body responded to all over again. I’d wanted to be his, even if only for one night. “It’s a complicated, long story. The short of it, my brother and I both loved the same woman. He won in the end, but we got my daughter out of it, which was the real prize.”
A love triangle, then. Brothers who’d battled over a woman. Romantic on the page and screen, painful to live with, especially if you were the loser. I couldn’t imagine Rafe losing anything, let alone a woman. I obviously hadn’t met Spencer before he died, but I couldn’t imagine anyone choosing another man over the overflowing power and splendor of Rafe. I was having trouble controlling my emotions and attraction even after he’d been cruel. What would it be like if he’d come at me with love? With the sole purpose of winning me?
It would be nothing I’d be able to resist.
Dangerous. Alluring. Tempting.
Maybe it was good he seemed to despise me suddenly. Maybe this was the only way I’d survive being in the same house with him for a few days. I swallowed hard before forcing myself to focus on the basics, the simple tasks of understanding why he was here and what I could do to make him trust me. “Did you have separate fathers? Is that why your last names are different?”
“We had the same parents. Legally, our last name is Marquess-Harrington, thanks to our mom’s desire to keep her surname. She was an artist at a commune near here, bent on taking the art world by storm and then leaving to travel the globe. But she fell in love with Dad and gave up all her dreams for him. Keeping her name was her way of retaining some piece of herself while losing others.” The words were torn out of him, as if he couldn’t believe he was telling me anything about himself. “But try writing an eighteen-letter, hyphenated last name on your papers in elementary school. It was ridiculous. Spence chose to use Harrington, and I did the opposite. At the time, I told myself it was because it had made Mom sad when he’d chosen Dad’s name over hers.”
There might have been many reasons she wasn’t around anymore, a simple divorce being one of them, but the grief I heard in his voice was the kind that came from real loss. Hearing it in this commanding man who’d seemed so sure, so strong, left compassion burning in its wake.
My voice was gentle when I asked, “What was the real reason you chose her name?”
“Even then, I bucked at following in my big brother’s footsteps.”
I wasn’t sure it was true. I thought the first reason he’d given me was more likely the real one.
Silence settled between us, allowing the rhythm of the night to take over. The water rushing and pounding down from the height. The chirp of the crickets. The whisper of the wind through the trees. I shivered. The combination of the mist from the waterfall dampening my skin and the breeze coasting over it chilled me.
After retreating from the library, I’d barely slipped back into my boots before leaving the house, determined to get air, to put distance between me and the emotions flooding the family. I hadn’t grabbed a flannel or a sweatshirt to put on over my tank. I hadn’t thought I’d need it with the night still warm and tomorrow’s forecast being for more heat.
“Why were you talking to Lorenzo Puzo?” he asked, a determination in his tone that said he’d find out one way or another.
Adam had asked me not to tell the family about the jewelry yet, and I understood his reasoning for not getting anyone’s hopes up. Although, the logic was muddied now with Rafe here, as he certainly had enough money to invest in the ranch if he wanted, so maybe it was simply all the unknowns that had me holding back some of the truth. Or maybe it was because I couldn’t stand the idea of giving Rafe the satisfaction of seeing my family as thieves when it was exactly what he’d already expected. So, I told him part of the truth but not all of it.
“I was researching our family history. No one knew my great-grandmother’s maiden name until I came across an old photograph of her that had Carolyn Puzo written on the back. I’ve been contacting any Puzo families I could find to see if they knew her.”
Even though I couldn’t see his expression in the shadows, I knew he was scrutinizing me to see how truthful I was being. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away. I just met his gaze with as steady of one as I could muster.
“You don’t want to be tied to Lorenzo,” he said with a certainty I didn’t necessarily disagree with. But I still wanted to know about Carolyn. Why had she left and never mentioned any of them again? Was it simply because she hadn’t agreed with their lifestyle? Or had they not approved of Harry McFlannigan, the son of Irish immigrants living in a tiny town in Tennessee, like Lorenzo had insinuated? Or was it because she was a thief?
“No matter how ugly, it’s always best to know the truth,” I said and meant it. No matter whether Carolyn had stolen the jewelry, or it had already been hers, or whatever else might have happened, knowing would help us to set it right.
“Careful what you wish for,” he said darkly.
I didn’t respond, couldn’t argue with that statement. I shivered again, both the night air and the conversation getting to me. Add in Rafe and his constant bombardment on my senses, and it was all almost too much to keep up with. I rose, sliding down off the rock, and it brought me momentarily closer to him. The heat and sizzle of the attraction that wafted between us sparked stronger. A promised flame that had to be squelched.
“I don’t normally believe in coincidences,” I told him. “But that’s all this is. I certainly had no idea you were tied to both Lorenzo and the Harringtons on Sunday night. You can believe that or not, but it’s the truth.”
He stepped off the boulder, and our toes touched. I was surprised to see he still had on his fancy dress shoes instead of something more appropriate for hiking through the woods.
“You’re going to have blisters tomorrow,” I said without thought.
He looked down, and a grunt of something that might have been acknowledgement drifted through him. The sound came from deep in his chest, a tantalizing lure that made me want to taste him. To see if I could make him rumble for all the reasons we’d planned the other night. To finally receive the satisfaction we’d both craved.
I stepped away and headed up the path the way I’d come instead. I heard him behind me, moving through the rocks and grass at the same pace as me, watching my every move. It kept the electricity drifting between us, a heady drug-like pull that left me craving more.
“How long are you staying?” he asked.
I briefly looked back over my shoulder. “The plan was to leave on Sunday after the wedding. You?”
“I’m here for the week.”
I couldn’t help the dart of something like hope that whisked through me. Maybe we’d get to finish what we’d started in Vegas. Would I risk it for a chance at putting to rest this damn desire he’d stoked, even when there was just as much of a chance of him embedding himself permanently under my skin? It didn’t matter, because if he’d all but tossed me out of his penthouse once his daughter had come home, he wasn’t going to sleep with me when Fallon and his ex were under the same roof.
A possibility hit me like a brick. Maybe he’d come to reignite whatever he’d once lost with Lauren. With his brother gone, no one was here to stop them from being together, right? Except, the way they’d talked to each other in the library hadn’t sounded like any kind of rekindling. It had sounded like loss and betrayal and disgust.
As we wound our way up along the smooth path at the cliff’s edge next to the falls, Rafe let out a startled rumble. I turned just in time to see him slide toward the cliff in those fancy shoes. As he fought to keep from going over, pure panic had me grabbing at him and hauling him back onto the path.
Our bodies collided, and he wrapped his arm around my waist, still trying to right himself. Those sparks I’d been fighting burst through me, every nerve ending happily remembering and rejoicing in the strength of him. The feel of him. The yearning for him.
We were both panting, from the sudden adrenaline rush of the near accident as much as from our bodies tucked together. When I glanced up, his face was now on display in the moonlight. Dark eyes sparkled with shock and passion. We stayed there, frozen, for several heartbeats. Stuck as if by a force we couldn’t see. Melded together.
I didn’t believe in coincidences, but I had enough Irish in me—I’d been around Uncle Phil enough in the last days of his life—to completely believe in fate and gods and otherworldly beings playing mischief. Or acting as matchmaker. Maybe all of this was always supposed to happen.
Maybe I was supposed to end up right here with my body almost grafted to Rafe’s.
Before I could even register he’d moved, Rafe’s mouth crashed into mine. Liquid flames ran through me at the touch, like the burn of alcohol going down, spiking through every nerve. Golden ambrosia that sent my head spinning. After a second of pure shock, I returned the kiss. Pushing harder. Desperate and needy in a way I’d never been. He groaned, fisting my hair and steadying me as his lips took command. Demanding I yield. Demanding I give entrance. And when I opened for him, he invaded. Caressing and driving. Dancing and exploring.
Every sound, every sight, every feel of the night air disappeared until there was nothing left but Rafe. His body. His strength. The taste of him. Vibrant and addicting.
Something I’d hunger for over and over again.
Something that made me think the fates were right. We belonged. Our bodies and souls were meant to be together just like this.
But just as the thought hit me, he was gone. Nothing but space and the rush of the mountain air between us as the warmth of his body disappeared.
He stared at me, lips tight, expression dark.
“You’re a damn siren. A temptress.” The words were a growl, unforgiving and harsh.
My hand found my lips. They tingled from the force of his, warm and delightfully bruised.
I was grateful for the night sky and that, with the moon behind me, it would be my face that was now cast in shadows so he couldn’t see my embarrassment. Humiliation at my ridiculous thoughts, and how easily I’d responded to his touch, and how he’d once again pushed me away as if I’d stolen the kiss from him.
“That’s twice you’ve started something you didn’t finish, Slick. Either do the job right or don’t bother to do it at all.” I whirled around and continued up the path at a much faster pace.
He kept up damn well for being in those stupid shoes, and we soon left the falls behind, the sound disappearing as the trees thinned and the fields around the house emerged. I sped up, almost jogging in my attempt to get away from him, to shut myself in my room and leave behind the fire burning in me. To forget the absolute want that had been replaced with humiliation.
Even if I wanted him, I couldn’t have him. So imagining fates or wee folk having brought us together was just ridiculousness. We had more reasons to not be together than simply him not trusting me. Our lives would never line up. I lived in Tennessee, not in Vegas or California or even on the West Coast. I may be scrambling to find my place in this world, but that didn’t mean I’d leave my home permanently in order to find it. I’d always want to keep the people I loved close. I wanted to leave a mark on my community, not run from it to follow a man.
So, whatever this was that burned between Rafe and me, it wasn’t a forever after. It wasn’t the gods sending me a sign. It wasn’t even close to that. It was meaningless. It was nothing.
“Sadie,” he called out to me as I reached the back door, and I ignored it. I swept into the mudroom that led into the laundry before racing into the sea of corridors running from the back to the front of the house. I’d almost reached the stairs before he grabbed me, hauling me to a stop. “Tennessee…”
I looked purposely from his face down to his hand with as much disdain as I could. “Let me go.”
“Nothing good can come of us finishing what we started.” Why did his words hurt even when I agreed with them? “But I won’t deny wanting to.” Astonishment drew my eyes back to his. When I didn’t say anything, couldn’t because I’d lost my voice, he continued in a controlled tone that took away the passion the words might have held. “We’ll both be here for the week. Maybe it’s what we both need. To finish what we started so we can leave it behind us.”
“What—” My voice cracked, and I hated it because I didn’t want to seem weak in front of him. “What are you suggesting?”
“A night. Maybe a few nights. And then you go back to Tennessee, and I go on with my life.”
“You don’t even trust me.”
“I don’t have to trust you to want you. I don’t have to trust you to quench this thirst. You stay out of my life, and I’ll stay out of yours, but we can at least walk away satisfied.”
Would doing what he suggested, spending a night or two wrapped in his arms, be any different than the one-night stand I’d originally planned? We’d have sex, get the relief we both sought, and then I’d, hopefully, leave him and the ranch behind. Was I willing to take the risk I wouldn’t be able to forget him?
“What about”—I waved my hand up the stairs—“the other people here?”
“I’m not staying in the house. There’s a cabin down past the stables that used to belong to our horse trainer. I practically lived there as a kid.” He clamped his lips together as if I’d drawn another truth from him, more revelations of his past, when I’d done nothing but ask a basic question.
He dropped his hand from my arm but didn’t move away, and the heat of him seared through me unrelentingly. My heart rate increased, pulse pounding out a rhythm that was hard to ignore. My body was clearly screaming, say yes , but my brain was telling me to run before things got even more complicated. Before the fae played havoc with my life.
He was the one to move first. He left me at the base of the stairs and strode toward the front door where he picked up a rolling suitcase. He shot me one departing look as he said, “Think about it.”
Then he was gone, leaving me spinning with turbulence. Head and heart and body all fighting to see who’d win.