Page 22 of Wild, Wild Cowboy

We settled lengthwise on the couch so I could stretch my legs. I grabbed one of those embroidered pillows for my head and then did a double take. Roses, lilies, and violets twisted and bloomed, forming the wordsoh, for fuck’s sake. I couldn’t recall ever hearing Hannah swear before, but somehow I didn’t have any trouble imagining her saying those exact words with dry exasperation, pushing her glasses up her nose.

I burst out laughing.

“Your mom is something, isn’t she?” I murmured to Evie. So prim and proper on the outside. But on the inside? She was fuckingfunny. A little filthy, in the best possible way. And she was kind. I liked her. I liked her a lot.

Evie didn’t answer, being too busy making biscuits on my abdomen. Trying to, anyway. My six-pack didn’t offer a whole lot of give. Finally, with a look of deep disapproval that rivaled her owner’s, she settled into the crook of my elbow instead. Within seconds, her eyes were closed and she was purring like a motorboat.

“You don’t care that I’m not a duke, do you, darlin’?” I rubbed her little head, and her brown ears drooped to give me more space. “Of course you don’t. Because you know cowboys do it better.”

8

HANNAH

Everything was fine until I walked into the living room.

I had woken up to sharp sunlight cracking through the curtain. Zack was gone but I hadn’t really expected him to stay, so after the smallest, silliest sinking of my stomach, I very firmly told myself that was fine. I would have to see him soon anyway to talk about the rodeo. Andthatwas not going to be awkward at all, even though he had shot cum all over my chest. It would be perfectly fine. Really and truly.

Today was Sunday, my day off, and that was better than fine, and I had the whole day planned precisely to my liking, so it absolutely did not matter that Zack had rolled out of bed afterthatand left without saying a single solitary word. I didn’t care in the least. That hollow feeling in my stomach was simply a lack of food. I wrapped myself up in my thick, cozy robe and headed for the kitchen to make tea and breakfast.

And that’s when I realized everything was not fine.

Because Zack had not left. He was still here, naked except his boxers, his bare feet dangling off one end of my sofa, reading one of my books while he usurped the affections of four of my cats. And I did not feel fine about any of it. The sight of his barechest and little Evie snuggled beneath his chin knocked me off kilter. Even St. Vincent, who was actually quite large and had been mistaken for a fox on more than one occasion, looked small curled up under one of Zack’s knees. Lillian and Daisy had made a black-and-white cuddle pile on his stomach.

A gorgeously made, mostly naked man was sprawled out on my couch, covered in cats and reading a romance book. It was as though a fantasy I’d never even known I’d possessed suddenly came to life in my living room.

How was I supposed to function? Form coherent sentences, have intelligent thoughts, be a contributing member of society? All I wanted to do was lick him like an ice cream cone.

“You’re awake,” he remarked in the exact same voice he had used to tell meI’ll be such a good boy, soft and rough all at the same time.

Honestly, howdarehe.

I draped over the back of the couch, leaning on my elbow with my chin propped on my palm, and looked down at him in all his naked, cat-covered glory. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you, Hannah Bell.” His voice was still rough-soft, his smile slow and teasing. My stomach swooped. I was in danger of being very silly about this man. “Your cats were kind enough to keep me company. Except for that one.” He jerked his head in the direction of my gray tabby, Annabelle, who sat two feet away, her back turned to us and her tail flicking back and forth in high outrage. His eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t like me.”

He said it like he was annoyed about it, and I smothered a grin. “That’s Annabelle. I told you, she doesn’t like anyone.”

“Hmm. Now that’s a shame.”

He cupped his large hand over Evie’s small body in a long stroke down her back. She arched into his touch like a wave and I moved too, like I could feel his calloused fingers against my own spine.

“I’m not used to pussies giving me the cold shoulder. You think I can win her over someday?” He all but winked when he said it. His hand kept stroking, Evie kept purring, but suddenly I felt a lot less silly.

My spine snapped straight and I full onvibrated. “I am not frigid.”

Shock replaced all the teasing humor in his eyes. “I didn’t say?—”

“I know what youmeant, Zack,” I said crisply. I spun on my toes and marched into the kitchen. “I have an English degree. I know a metaphor when I hear it. You weren’t talking about cats. You were talking about my vagina.”

I banged open a cabinet, grabbed a frying pan, and banged that onto the stove. I reached for a bowl so I could bang that too but instead found myself hauled backward against Zack’s hard, broad chest, his arms wrapped around my belly. His low laugh rumbled in my ear.

“Idon’t have an English degree. I don’t have a degree at all. Fuck, darlin’, I’ve had two concussions and if you ask either of my brothers, I didn’t start out with a whole lot of brain cells to begin with.” He laughed again, but I heard it this time. The anxiety that skirted along the edges. He used humor like a shield, but if he truly didn’t care, he wouldn’t have trapped me against his body so he could whisper every word into my ear.

“I was talking about your vagina, you’re right about that, but I wasn’t talking about its temperature. Hell, I don’t even believe in frigid, as it applies to women, and it damn sure doesn’t apply to you, either. I watched you come from fucking yourself with your fingers. I watched you spit on my cock. Frigid is the last thing I would call you. You’re a goddamn volcano.”

I wanted to believe him, to see myself the way he saw me, but his words couldn’t drown out all the voices in my head, of the men who had been personally offended that my body didn’twork the way they thought it should. “All right,” I said, mortified to be having this conversation at all, much less in the bright light of day before breakfast. “I’m going to make us omelets.”

I pressed forward and his arms gave way. I didn’t have to turn around to know he was still standing there, watching me. I could feel the heat of him against my back. The man was a self-sustaining furnace.

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