5. Carl
Carl
There was something about Sierra I hadn’t been able to put my finger on. I was smitten, and it wasn’t just because of her ass.
We strolled through the summer grass at the edge of the fairgrounds, talking about anything and everything, the words tumbling out of us as day turned to dusk.
The bright, artificial glow of the arena lights in the distance cast long shadows across the field.
I slowed my pace, sliding my hands into my pockets. “You need to get back to taking photos?”
Sierra stopped and looked back over her shoulder toward the rodeo we’d left behind. She stared at the arena lights for a long couple of seconds.
Then she turned back to me. “I’m enjoying this. If you still want to hang out, I mean.”
Satisfaction settled in my chest. “Yeah,” I rumbled. “Let’s keep walking. I’m enjoying this too.”
We drifted further into the field. I could still hear the low rumble of the announcer’s voice and the cheers from the crowd as cowboy after cowboy gave it their best in the arena.
But out here, the steady hum of cicadas in the tall grass filled the quiet spaces between us, giving our time together a slower, easier rhythm.
“So,” I said, looking over at her as we walked, wondering if it would be too much to hold her hand. “What’s the best part of the job? You get to travel around and take pictures of a bunch of guys getting thrown in the mud. I know that. Anything else to love about it?”
She smiled, adjusting the camera on her chest. “I love photography. You catch a rider’s face right after the buzzer, when he’s first realizing he survived the ride.
Or a little kid hugging a barrel horse behind the chutes.
Sometimes I like to take pictures of families in the stands laughing.
I like catching the split-second expressions people make when they don’t know anyone’s watching. ”
I listened, keeping my eyes on her profile. She talked about her work with a grounded kind of respect. Sierra wasn’t just pointing a lens at the action. She was looking for the moments underneath it.
“That makes sense,” I rumbled. “Takes a good eye to see that kind of stuff. Any picture I ever take is blurry as hell. And I cut the tops of people’s heads off all the time.”
She laughed lightly.
“All right, Carl,” her tone shifted softer, a little playful. “Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“You keep asking about me, but you’re holding your cards close to your chest. Time to tell me about you.”
“Me? I’m a simple guy. Not much to tell. I wrangle wood for a living. I have good friends and deep roots. I spend too much money on my pickup truck. If I had a dog, I’d spoil him rotten.”
Her eyes lit up. “You’re still deflecting. So, what’s the catch with you?”
“The catch?”
“Big, charming, good with runaway livestock. There’s usually a catch.”
Oh. She wants to know why I’m single.
My boots came to a dead halt in the grass.
The warm night air suddenly felt thick, pressing tightly against my throat.
I stared down at the dirt for a long second, rubbing my thumb along my jawline.
I didn’t want to answer that. I wanted to keep it light.
But from the look on her face, I wasn’t sure she was going to let me.
“A man like you should have women lined up… unless there’s a catch.”
I barked out a laugh. “You caught me, hon. I’m an escaped prison con, running from the law. I’m a wanted man, Sierra. Not just by the ladies.”
Sierra laughed, but some of the light in her eyes dimmed. She’d asked me to be real. She deserved more than a joke in return.
“Look. It’s nothing too deep. I’m a likable guy,” I said, keeping my tone steady. “I buy the beers, tell the jokes, help out when a steer gets loose.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “And that’s a problem?”
“It isn’t. Not until Monday morning rolls around.” I scuffed the toe of my boot through a dry patch of earth. “I’m the guy women call to help move a sofa. Not the guy they keep.”
Sierra stopped walking. She turned to face me, her brown eyes locking onto mine.
“Is it because you don’t want to be caught? You can be honest with me. I’m used to rodeo life. Everything’s been temporary in my world for a long time now.”
Before I could process the words, she closed the distance between us and took my hand.
Temporary.
I both loved and hated the sound of that. Loved it because it left me with the distinct impression that this gorgeous woman was trying to get me out of my jeans. Hated it because it put an expiration date on whatever was starting between us.
And something was starting. I felt it clear down to my bones.
Her fingers wrapped firmly around mine. I looked down at our joined hands, then back up to her face.
My pulse kicked a heavy, uneven beat against my ribs.
“Sierra,” I said, my voice rough. “I’m not afraid of being caught.”
Her gaze held mine, searching for honesty. “No?”
“No. I think maybe I’ve been waiting a long damn time for the right woman to catch me.”
Her breath hitched.
“But you’re only here for a few weeks,” I continued. “And I’m not built for passing through. I’ve lived on this mountain my whole life. My friends are here. My work is here. My roots are dug in so deep, I don’t think they’d come loose if I tried.”
Something softened in her face.
“I know that probably sounds boring to a woman who’s spent her life chasing rodeos from town to town.”
“It doesn’t sound boring,” she said quietly.
“No?”
She shook her head. “It sounds steady.”
That word landed softly in my chest.
Steady.
I’d been called plenty of things in my life. Funny. Loud. Handy. Trouble when I wanted to be. But steady coming out of Sierra’s mouth felt different.
It felt like something a man could build a life on.
I swallowed hard, my thumb brushing over the back of her hand.
“Then I’ll be honest with you. I don’t want tonight to feel temporary.
I know that’s probably foolish, since we just met, but I’m feeling something here, Sierra.
Something I don’t want to laugh off or drink away or pretend is only about getting you out of those jeans. ”
Her lips parted.
“Although,” I added, my voice dropping, “I do want that too.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Good.”
For a second, neither of us moved. The rodeo sounds rolled faintly across the field behind us, where all the bright lights and cheering crowds still existed. But out here it felt like the world had narrowed down to the two of us.
Sierra stepped closer, her fingers tightening around mine.
“I don’t want tonight to feel temporary either,” she whispered.
My chest tightened.
“Then what do you want?”
Her eyes dropped to my mouth, then lifted back to mine.
“You,” she said. “For as long as I can have you.”
That should have scared me. But it didn’t.
“Then you’ve got me, hon,” I rasped. “For tonight. For tomorrow. For as long as you’re here.”
And God help me, I already wanted longer.
She grinned. “What about your friends? Will they be expecting you…”
“Naw. Shane and Penelope drove separately,” I rumbled. “They can find their own way back.”
I settled my hand on her cheek, my thumb tracing the soft line of her jaw. She had a delicate neck, and I wanted to see what it tasted like. In fact, I was desperate for it.
Sierra hitched a breath, tilting her face up toward mine. The distant, tinny sound of the rodeo music playing over the fairground speakers faded into nothing. All I could hear was the rush of blood in my own ears.
Getting tangled up with a woman who was just passing through was a terrible idea.
I knew better.
But I kissed her anyway.
She stood up on her tippy-toes and I covered her mouth with mine. It was a slow, hot drag of a kiss, testing the waters and finding them boiling.
Sierra made a quiet sound in the back of her throat, letting go of my hand to slide both of her arms up around my neck. The heavy camera bumped against my stomach, wedged between us, but I didn’t care. I slid my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest.
She opened her mouth to me, and I took my time, tasting the sweet, lingering hint of powdered sugar. She kissed me back with a heat that made me grip her waist tighter.
I pulled her in and let myself have this long, selfish moment on the edge of the rodeo.