Page 4 of Curvy Girl for the Cowboy

Lost in thought, a tear slips down my cheek before I even realize I'm crying. Memories of cooking with Dad flood my mind—his booming laugh, strong hands guiding mine, the way he'd sneak bites when he thought I wasn't looking. God I miss him, an ache so deep in my chest I can hardly breathe.

The creak of a floorboard startles me, and I turn to find Colton frozen in the doorway, hat in hand, an unreadable expression on his rugged face. "You alright there darlin'?" His deep gravelly drawl sends a shiver through me.

Hastily, I wipe at my cheeks. "I'm fine, I just...I recently lost my dad…" My voice cracks and I swallow hard.

Two strides and he's in front of me, calloused thumb tentatively brushing away a tear. "It's okay, I understand." His blue eyes are soft, almost tender. "Grief has a way of sneaking up on you."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Slowly, giving me time to pull away, he folds me into his strong arms. I stiffen for a heartbeat before melting into his solid warmth, breathing in the scent of him—leather, horses, and something uniquely Colton.

"When I lost my Pa, felt like the ground dropped out from under me. Still does some days." His deep rumble vibrates through me where my cheek presses to his chest. My arms tighten around his waist. "You're not alone Sam. I'm here."

Hope blooms fragile and bright in my chest, his quiet words wrapping around my bruised heart like a balm. Maybe, just maybe, I've found a safe harbor after the storms. In the shelter of Colton's embrace, for the first time since Dad died, I feel the tiniest spark of something that might be home.

A shuddering breath escapes me as I cling to Colton, this man who is still a stranger yet feels like a lifeline in the tempest of my grief. His hand rubs soothing circles on my back, calluses catching on the worn fabric of my dress. Time seems to still, narrowing down to the two of us, the golden late-day light, the hush of our mingled breathing.

Slowly, reluctantly, I lift my head from the solid strength of his chest, my eyes finding his. The blue depths hold understanding, empathy, and a flicker of something heated that sends a flush crawling up my neck. Awareness prickles over my skin, the air suddenly thick, charged with a tension I can't name.

Colton's gaze drops to my mouth, his own parting slightly. Rough thumbs brush my cheekbones, tilting my face up to his. I feel the ghost of his breath on my lips, the rasp of his stubble. My pulse kicks into a gallop. The look on his face…I don’t know what it means, but it has me tied all up in knots.

His scent intoxicates me—leather, sweat, and something wild and untamed that speaks to a primal part of me. The rough pads of his thumbs caress my tear-stained cheeks with a gentleness that belies their strength. I'm drowning in the fathomless blue of his eyes, falling into their stormy depths.

Time stretches taut between us, the very air seeming to hold its breath. Colton's callused palm slides to the nape of my neck, his touch igniting sparks beneath my skin. He leans in, his lips so close to mine.

Oh my god. He’s going to kiss me.

I let out a shaky breath, and then as quickly as it almost happened, it stops.

Colton releases me, takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it as he looks down, mumbles something about having to get back to work and turns swiftly on his heel and leaves.

Only when he’s gone do I realize I’m trembling, though with what I don’t know.

four

?. . .?

Colton

The sun'sjust cresting over the horizon when I spot Sam striding across the ranch yard, her auburn hair glinting in the early morning light. She's wearing faded jeans that hug her curves and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, ready for work. It catches me off guard.

"Mornin' darlin'," I call out, trying to hide my surprise. "You're up awful early."

She flashes me a smile that makes something stir deep in my chest. "Thought I'd lend a hand with the chores today. If that's alright with you?"

I hesitate, not wanting to burden her with the hard labor of ranch life. But there's a determined gleam in her green eyes that tells me she won't take no for an answer. And isn’t that part of why I got a wife? For help? Still, I want to baby her and don’t want her working herself too hard. Not that I don’t think she can handle it. Just I have this innate urge to take care of her.

Because in my mind, she’smine.

"Alright then," I concede, tipping my hat. "Reckon I could use the help."

We set to work, side by side, the silence broken only by the lowing of cattle and the creak of leather. I steal glances at her as she hefts hay bales, admiring the sheen of sweat on her brow and the strength in her arms. She meets my gaze and I quickly look away, feeling like a schoolboy caught staring.

As the day wears on, we find ourselves in the corrals, wrangling calves for branding. I watch as Sam picks up a lasso, a look of concentration on her face as she tries to rope a particularly feisty calf. She swings and misses, the rope falling short.

"Here, let me show you," I offer, coming up behind her. I cover her hands with mine, feeling the softness of her skin, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. Together we swing the lasso, letting it fly. It lands true, catching the calf around the neck.

"I did it!" she exclaims, turning to face me, her eyes shining with pride.

Suddenly I'm acutely aware of how close we are, our bodies nearly touching. I feel a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the Texas sun. She must feel it too because her breath catches and her cheeks flush pink.

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