Lavender Lake (Saddles & Spurs #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The Airport

“Hadley,” I wheezed. “Now isn’t a good time!”

“You’re running to your gate, aren’t you?” my twin demanded.

“Yes,” I admitted. “But it’s not my fault I’m about to miss my plane.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

“Take your pick. My plane out of New York was late taking off. There was a rogue spring snowstorm that grounded all the planes when I landed in Denver. The airport shuttle arrived late to the hotel this morning. Then there was traffic to the airport.”

“And you don’t think you might’ve brought this on yourself? A little self-sabotage, maybe?”

“You can lecture me when you pick me up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” I smiled despite the verbal lashing I was getting from my sister. “I’ll be held hostage in your car. Nowhere to run.”

She chuckled. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—”

“Later, gator.” I hung up on Hadley just as I made it to the gate. The sour-faced attendant shot me a maternal look of disappointment.

“I know,” I huffed. “I’m sorry. Am I too late? Did I miss the flight?”

“No.” She shook her head, sending her curtain of silver hair swooshing over her shoulders. “You made it just in time.”

I put my phone under the code reader. It beeped and turned green. Favoring my weak ankle, I made it down the flyway. A blonde flight attendant pursed her lacquered red lips as I approached the aircraft door.

“Sorry,” I said, wrestling my monogrammed suitcase onto the plane. I made it to my row and collapsed the handle of my luggage so I could stow it above me. I was getting ready to lift it above my head when a deep, masculine voice said, “Let me help you with that.”

Prickles of awareness and familiarity raced down my spine as I looked over my shoulder at the man I’d spent the previous night with.

My eyes and mouth widened in shock.

“I’ll take that as a ‘thank you.’” He grinned.

He took my bag in his large hands and hoisted it effortlessly into the overhead compartment.

I was standing there like a gaping moron when the flight attendant came toward us.

“Please take your seats,” she said, her left eye twitching as she stared at me. But then she looked at the man whose name I still didn’t know, and yet who I was intimately familiar with. She beamed. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Bowman?”

“No, thanks,” he said, a slight smile curving his generous, talented lips.

“Ma’am? Your seat,” the flight attendant said pointedly.

3A.

I scuttled into the row and hastily dropped into my window seat. I quickly turned off my phone and shoved my shoulder bag underneath the seat in front of me before buckling myself in.

Mr. Bowman took the aisle seat next to me. He settled his large frame into the oversized first-class seat, but he still looked like he was sitting in a sardine can.

“She knows your name,” I said as the flight attendant began walking through the cabin away from us.

“She does,” he agreed, looking at me. His steely gray eyes raked over me from head to toe, but then he paused and examined my neck. “Didn’t do a good enough job hiding that.”

His finger reached out to graze the hickey he’d left on my skin.

I batted his hand away, but couldn’t stop the shiver of want his touch elicited.

Glaring at him, I tightened the seat belt around my waist. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

He raised his brows. “Same thing you are, I’m guessing.”

I rubbed my third eye.

“You snuck out of my bed this morning,” he said, pitching his voice low. “While I was still sleeping.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry; my memories blazing with heat at the forefront of my mind.

“Look,” I began. “The flight to Spokane isn’t long. Let’s just be quiet and pretend not to know each other.”

He fell silent and I thought for sure that was the end of it.

But then he said, “No.”

I’d been looking out the window at the tarmac. His simple one-word reply had me whipping my head around to stare at him. “No?”

“No,” he repeated.

“Fine. I won’t talk to you.”

I was being childish. But I had never expected to see him again. He was a one-night stand, and yet, here he was sitting in the seat next to me wearing a pair of faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a red and black flannel shirt.

“You’re talking to me now,” he pointed out. “You can at least tell me your name.”

“Speaking of names, how does the flight attendant know yours?” I asked.

His lips twitched. “Jealous?”

“No,” I stated flatly.

“Tell me your name, and then I’ll tell you why she knows mine.”

“I know why she knows your name.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

I gestured to him. “You’re a country music star, aren’t you?”

That had him laughing. A deep, booming chuckle that softened the angles of his face.

His laugh made my insides quiver, and I hated myself for it.

“No. I’m not a country music star. Nice guess though.”

“Then what are you?”

A voice came over the intercom, effectively ending our conversation. I listened with one ear as they took us through the safety precautions.

When the intercom fell silent, my new companion said, “You’re really not going to tell me your name?”

The man had seen me naked.

My legs had been wrapped around him while still wearing my heels.

What was a name?

“Salem,” I said.

“Salem,” he repeated, his brows furrowing. “As in Salem Powell?”

My eyes widened. “How did—”

“You’re Hadley’s sister, aren’t you?”

I turned my body and my back hit the side of the plane as I tried in vain to put distance between us. “What is this? Are you stalking me?”

“Stalking? What the hell kind of a question is that?” He glared. “No, I’m not stalking you, but you’re Hadley’s sister. Hadley is marrying Declan. I’m Bowman.”

“Yeah, so the flight attendant said.”

“Bowman,” he repeated. “Cas Bowman. I’m Declan’s best man.”

My mouth dropped open in horror as the plane began rolling down the runway.

I closed my eyes and held in a groan.

I’d had sex with Declan’s best man.

Declan’s best man had seen me naked.

My throat was sore because Declan’s best man had made me scream into a pillow all last night.

“Hadley’s going to kill me,” I stated, flipping my eyes open. “She’s going to kill me dead, and then make Poet her maid of honor. She should’ve done that anyway. Poet never would’ve done this. Poet never would’ve done anything like this.”

I rubbed my temple.

Bowman took my hand.

“You’re panicking.”

“No shit.” I glared at him and tried to tug my hand from his, but he linked his fingers through mine to stop me. “The wedding isn’t for three weeks. Why are you flying up there now?”

“I had some time off from the circuit. I haven’t met Hadley yet and I wanted to get to know her a bit before the wedding.”

“The circuit.” My expression slackened. “Oh. Oh, no . . .”

“What?”

My eyes swept down his body and I finally wrenched my hand from his. “You’re a—”

“Bull rider.”

I groaned. “You’re an adrenaline junkie that likes danger.”

“I also like temperamental beasts.” He cocked his head to the side and grinned. “No wonder I like you.”

I snorted. “You don’t know me.”

He leaned closer. “After last night, I think I have a pretty good idea of who you are.”

I swallowed, but forced myself to hold his steely gaze. “Oh yeah? Go ahead then. Tell me who I am.”

“Bold. Bratty.” He grinned and tugged on a strand of my red hair. “And beautiful. And you’re not afraid to go to bed with a stranger.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But . . .” He let go of my hair and his eyes raked over me from head to toe again. “You’re clearly scared to wake up with one.”

Cold terror enveloped every part of my body. It rushed through my veins, turning my blood to ice.

He continued, “I wasn’t done with you. But lucky for me, I get another chance to get you into bed.”

I raised my brows. “Fat chance.”

His grin was slow.

I didn’t like that grin.

It was arrogant. Assured. As if I was a forgone conclusion.

Sure, I’d gone to bed with him last night and it had been incredible. Unlike any other experience of my life . . .

But that didn’t mean it was going to happen again.

“Even if I wanted a repeat performance, which I don’t—”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” he insisted. “You’re still trembling, aren’t you?”

“Shut. Up. There are other people on this plane.”

“They’re all wearing headphones. No one is paying any attention to us.”

The man across the aisle glanced at me before quickly turning his face forward again.

I pointed to him. “That guy, right there, is listening to our conversation.”

“I’m not,” the man lied. “I swear I’m not.”

“I’ll buy you a drink if you put in noise cancelling headphones,” Bowman said to him.

“I think I’d rather listen to this conversation,” he said. “I work in television. I’m a writer, and this is really good stuff.”

I cursed.

“Fine.” The man sighed. “Out of respect for the lady.”

Bowman waited until the man put his headphones on before he looked at me and winked. “You were hardly a lady last night.”

“I’m really starting to hate you.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Yeah? How much? So much you want to take it out on me?”

“Never. Going. To. Happen.”

“We’ll see.” He shrugged.