Page 12 of Take Me Away, Cowboy

“Your folks?”

“And Brad. We’ve always been close, and even though I know he’d be happy for me if I found a way to keep practicing medicine abroad, I know he loves catching up face-to-face. To be honest, I love that, too. He’s always been my rock.”

So, this stunning, sprightly woman sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, filling the cab with the scent of the islands and making it impossible to think, was a physician? Jesus.

“I liked him,” Owen said, referring to her brother.

He risked a glance over at her, her legs tucked up under her, her chin on her knees. The warm smile on her face made his erection sneak back. He moved his right leg to cover it from her line of sight. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away with his half-hard penis that came to life anytime he looked at her. It was like a bad horror movie.

“Me, too,” she echoed.

“So, what do you practice?”

“I’m in pediatrics. I was working as the chief of a small pediatric clinic in Caicos, and before that wherever I was needed. West Africa most recently.”

“Sounds like they were lucky to have you,” he said.

“Thanks. I like to think the same thing about the islands. I was lucky to be there, to have been all the places I’ve been able to call home, to serve. Now it’s just a matter of finding the next place I’ll be fortunate enough to go.”

“Is it the place that calls you, or is it here that pushes you away?” he asked.

He almost stopped the truck, pulled over to the side of the road when he heard her sharp intake of breath. A quick glance said she was okay, but the smile on her face was gone, replaced instead with pulled-together brows and teeth that bit her bottom lip.

Blood flowed to his groin and he groaned inaudibly. Was there nothing this woman could do that his body wouldn’t react to?

“That’s a question I haven’t heard before,” she whispered. He couldn’t be sure she wasn’t talking to herself just then. “I don’t know, to be honest. I hadn’t considered the possibility that it could be more than the world calling to me.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Owen told her. She nodded, but her gaze remained locked on the land in front of them.

“You didn’t, but you did give me some things to think about,” she said. She put down her legs, and straightened her back, her breasts pushing out as she stretched.

He was glad he was driving and had the distraction of keeping them safe so he didn’t ogle her, his now-pulsing member behaving like a horny teenager. He was acting like an asshole. As they pulled up to her driveway he found himself a little bummed she didn’t live farther from her brother so he could spend more time with her.

“We’re here,” he announced, immediately wanting to smack himself for pointing out the obvious. She knew where she lived.

“I see that,” she said, nudging his shoulder with her fist. He pretended it moved him more than it did, swaying towards his door.

“Don’t get out,” she said. “I’ve got this. But thanks. For the ride and the conversation. I’m glad you’ll be next door while I’m here.”

Now his arms erupted in goose bumps, and he was thankful he’d chosen a long-sleeved flannel and jeans despite the heat. At least she wouldn’t see how much each word she said mattered to him. He was glad she was close, too, earlier promises to forgo women and distractions forgotten completely.

“It was nice to meet you, Paige,” he told her, whispering the sentiment in her ear when he leaned over to open her door for her. Her breath hitched and he got chills on more than just his arms as he realized he had the power to do that to her.

He held in a chuckle when she stammered a “You, too,” before sprinting out of the cab. Just before she got to her door, she turned and looked back at him with wide eyes and those damned parted lips he wished he could explore.

Maybe, even if it took a while to figure out the business of farming, he’d made the right decision in coming here.

That, or it would be the death of him.

CHAPTER FOUR

Perspective

Paige sat witha stale bagel and instant coffee at the open window of her parents’ apartment. Never mind the fact that it was almost two in the afternoon; a rocks glass filled to the brim with Caribbean rum and ice was on deck for when she finished her coffee.

Her eyes wandered over the land her folks owned, at what they had built over three decades. They’d bought the place from her grandparents, who’d bought it from their parents, but it wasn’t the epic property it was now when her folks had first purchased it. The barn had been missing the siding on the north-facing exterior wall from a storm that had come through in the late seventies, cracks lined the farmhouse roof, as well as a patch of shingles that had to be replaced. The plumbing had included the original pipes from the rebuild in the 1920s, when the old farmhouse, the homesteading property, had been torn down to make way for something more modern.

She didn’t know what it looked like back then, only that it resulted in an impressive marriage of wilderness and manicured land borne of hard work and loyalty.

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