My Cowboy Night (Lucky River Cowboys #6)

1. Melody

Melody

The early afternoon sunlight pours through the large window of the flower shop I co-own with my best friend. It warms the cozy space behind the counter, and I move away from the blinding brightness to the rows of containers filled with flowers.

Though there are many scents, what I notice most is the sweet scent of gardenias. These are my favorites because they infuse me with peace and I’ve worked hard for that.

Starting with moving to Lucky River years ago. I’m far from the expectations of my rich family and the countless blind dates that hoped for a marriage alignment with wealthy, blue blood generational money.

Those blind dates had wanted sweet, demure women like my sisters. Instead, they got set up with me. And as one of them had said with disappointment, “You’re nothing like your sisters,” right after I’d discovered his true colors.

No, I’m nothing like my sisters. They easily fit into the high-society circles my family lives in.

I’m a woman more at home in blue-collar settings.

A woman who loves hot, bad-ass cowboys and muscle cars.

A woman who’d rather chug a cold beer on a hot summer night sitting on a truck tailgate than hold a glass of champagne at yet another boring party for the well-connected.

I left that lifestyle behind and now I have peace.

Except for today. Peace is elusive and I’m filled with a stabbing discomfort like a sneak attack from a bra’s broken underwire.

And I’m guessing that discomfort will stick with me for an entire week because I’d promised my best friend Raven that I’d watch her kids while she went on a vacation-work trip with her husband, Marshall.

I adore the kids and had gladly agreed to stay with them, but in hindsight, I should have said no. Because I didn’t know Marshall’s brother Jonas would also be there. In the same house.

That cowboy has upended my life since our first meeting several years ago. I hate that he’s tall and ruggedly handsome. I hate that he sports six-pack abs as solid as a brick wall. I hate that looking at him makes me want to serve myself up like a warm all-he-can-eat breakfast buffet.

The day we met turned me inside out because of what I learned about him, and it still has the power to make me cringe and blush even after all this time. And I’m not someone who does either one of those easily.

What I learned is that man is seriously packing. And I’m a good girl thinking dirty thoughts about the things I’ve wanted to do with him since that encounter.

I had taken one look into his addictive dark eyes, and I’d known then I’d better be careful. He held the power to captivate my body.

He didn’t say it. He didn’t swagger. It was just in his eyes.

Together, we’d set a bed on fire. But when the high of orgasms faded, the only thing left would be my regret. And I’ve had too much of that in my life already.

I’d pay a magician every cent I have if he could rewind time and erase how I met Jonas. Maybe then, I wouldn’t feel this pull toward him, this pull that drives me nuts and that I have successfully hidden for years.

The day we met, he called me a thief. And he was right.

But it’s not what he was thinking. Before I could explain, his strong thighs had pressed into mine as he’d angrily pinned me to the front seat of his truck.

That below the belt contact has since given me a terminal case of horny.

I’d tried curing myself with a vibrator, but it hasn’t worked.

I let out a sigh and give myself a mental shake. It’s not like I’ll be stuck together with Jonas forever. It’s for one week. I can spend a week with him in the same house.

“It won’t be that hard,” I say out loud to myself.

Seven-year-old Kaden will be in elementary school and four-year-old Marianna will be in Pre-K during the day while I’m at work. Then there will be after school activities and homework to pass the time. That only leaves a few hours each evening to get through.

The shop door swings open and he’s here as if my thoughts conjured him from the hot, smoky underworld where he resides. Jonas Richford. His Stetson is pulled low shadowing his face, but he thumbs it up as he walks toward the counter.

My heart flutters. Why, why, why does he always have to look so yummy? Like a dessert tempting me to just taste one bite when I know from the start I’m going to eat the whole damn thing.

His dark gaze sweeps the interior of the shop while I focus on him. Neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Well-worn, snug denims. Silver rectangle belt buckle. White fitted T-shirt. Temptation, thy name is cowboy.

His gaze lands on me.

Hating that I was staring, I quickly pretend I’m arranging flowers that are already arranged in a vase. I’ve learned over the years that it’s always best to go on the offensive with him. “Are you here to buy flowers for your girlfriend to apologize for whatever you did wrong?”

His expression doesn’t change. He puts his left index finger up by his ear. I’ve noticed he has a habit of doing that. “You know I don’t have a girlfriend.”

I do know that. Like I know his voice is deep but smooth.

“I don’t know whether you have a girlfriend or not because I try to avoid you. I don’t know much about you at all,” I say but that’s a lie. I’ve mentally marked dozens of Jonas-is-here X’s so I could avoid the places where I knew he’d be.

“You don’t know much about me?” He lifts one eyebrow and puts his palms on the counter to lean closer. “Except you know I’ve got what it takes to make you writhe and claw my back.”

And there it is. Him dropping that embarrassing past between us. “You know damn well what really happened in your truck,” I snap. He’s the only one capable of pushing my buttons in seconds and making me so flustered it’s hard to think straight.

“I know what really happened,” he agrees with a nod. “In broad daylight too. You spread your legs wide and moaned and then left me high and dry.”

I press my hand to my chest. I’m going to have a fucking heart attack because of him. “You son of—” I choke off the rest of the words, desperately seeking my inner calm. He could make a monk want to drink himself into a stupor. “For the hundredth time, I never intended to steal your truck.”

“You were trying to hotwire it.”

“So I was, that’s true, but I was trying to help Butterfly Buck and I’ve explained that repeatedly since then.” I mentally curse the day the elderly man told me he’d lost his key and needed to get home urgently.

I have a soft spot for the elderly and thought I was doing a good deed when I broke into the truck that I thought Buck was pointing to. I was neck deep under the steering wheel when Jonas yelled and Butterfly Buck beat a hasty retreat. Everything went from bad to worse after that.

Especially when his elderly former school teacher who was prone to leaving her hearing aid at home had noticed what was going on and loudly said, “You should not for-NI-cate in public.”

“Buck never admitted he was there,” Jonas says skeptically.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I don’t know why Buck hasn’t come clean about it.

“You knew you were busted, so you slapped your kinky ass handcuffs on my wrist then hiked your dress up trying to get away.”

My inner calm goes on vacation. “I didn’t hike my dress up; it slid high when we fell backward onto the seat and you know you handcuffed me first!” I put my hands on the counter mimicking his stance. “And you nearly got me arrested though I was innocent.”

“Sure darlin’. If that’s how you want to rewrite our history, go ahead.”

“There are days when I really hate you, Jonas.”

“Your nipples don’t seem to agree with you.”

I immediately straighten and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m standing beneath the air vent. It’s not you.” At least not this time.

“We both know you’re lying. Just like we both know I have what it takes to give you the best sex of your life.”

I do, but I will swear off orgasms for life until I die and turn into a husk of unfulfilled need before he’ll get me to admit that. I smile and try not to look below his belt buckle. “You don’t even have what it takes to give me the best sixty seconds of my life.”

He adjusts his Stetson. “Darlin’, don’t challenge a cowboy. I ride for a living.”

“So?”

He bumps his thighs with his fists. “Strong thighs, all night rides.”

I press my teeth together and speak through them, “Your strong thighs and your dick won’t get that close to me.”

“Don’t act like your panties weren’t wet then and aren’t wet now.”

I close my eyes and count to three. Damn him and his knowing smile. Damn him and his hard body. Damn the wetness of panties past and present.

I need to regain control. Opening my eyes, I reach below the counter and snatch the sheet of paper I’d put there when I came in this morning. “Here. This is a schedule for you.”

He doesn’t move to take it. “Schedule?”

I shake the paper. “Schedule,” I repeat firmly.

He still doesn’t move.

“I’ve outlined all the sleeping, eating and showering arrangements to minimize our time together,” I explain.

His eyes widen. “Is this a joke?”

“No. I want to make sure you stay out of my way.”

“You were the one who started out in my way. First by putting your hand on my cock.”

My face burns. “That was an accident! I would never randomly grab your dick.”

“What about on purpose?” He has the gall to laugh.

I stare at him, recalling how he’d snapped the cuffs on me and how awareness had raced through my body. I hate that I’ve never been able to eradicate that awareness. That I can’t make my body find a way to ignore him.

I think the wisest move is to retreat and stay as far away as possible. I wave my hand in dismissal. “Us in the same house is clearly not going to work. I’ll take care of the kids on my own.”

“No. I made a promise to Marshall and I don’t break promises.”

“He’ll understand.”

“I said no, Melody.”

Why does the way he says my name send ripples across my skin? I reach for a batch of pink roses and a thorn pricks me. “Ouch.” I suck on my finger.

Jonas’s eyes darken.

“We’ll stay in the house together,” he says, deep voice going deeper. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“That’s exactly how I want it.” I turn my back on him and remain that way until he leaves. Then my knees sag and I sit down before I fall. For all my bravado I don’t know how in the hell to survive a week in the same house with that cowboy.