Page 43 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
Harold didn’t intend for things to go the way they did for my mother. Hell, the minute he learned what had happened, he tried to be in my life, and my stubborn ass rejected him at every turn. My mother never held a grudge against him, knowing that somethings in life are just out of our control.
It was probably time I put my petty bullshit aside and follow Penelope’s example. I needed to finally own up to my own behavior and get to know my father.
Before it was too late.
While I was coming to these life altering conclusions, Penelope and I finished our meals. I gathered the empty containers while she shut down her computer.
“Ready to head out?” I asked, watching as she turned off the office light and closed the door.
“All set.”
We headed down and climbed in the truck, the silence only broken by the alternative rock station we had settled on as acceptable to both of us. I glanced out the corner of my eye, watching as Penelope rolled her head on her shoulders again.
“You should try the hot tub,” I said, trying not to picture her wet and warm in a bathing suit…or out of it.
“Hmmm,” she moaned, and the sound shot straight to my dick. “That sounds lovely, actually.”
“Tell you what,” I said, trying not to shift as my pants got tighter. “When we get to the house, I’ll grab the wine, you meet me out back.”
She looked my way, her eyes wide. “Together?” she murmured quietly.
“You bet your ass, together.”
She stared at me open mouthed for a minute longer, then nodded slightly. “Okay.”
Half an hour later I stood on the pool deck, two glasses of wine in hand, waiting for Penelope to come down and join me. The house was quiet, which was strange given that Daphne and Silas had been around almost constantly since I’d arrived in Las Vegas. But Daphne had moved back into her dorm room, and Silas was spending less and less time at the house, a fact that reminded me I needed to make things right with them both sooner rather than later.
My thoughts were cut off abruptly when the door to the house opened quietly and Penelope stepped on to the darkened patio, her bare feet silent on the tiles. She was wearing a robe, one of the plain white ones Harold kept in each bedroom, like the hotel kingpin he was, and her hair had gone from its tidy low bun to a messy knot on the top of her head. Her skin shone in the moonlight, looking like flawless porcelain, and I was struck again by just how beautiful she truly was.
She padded over to me, her hands gripping the knotted belt of the robe tightly, and smiled shyly when I passed her the glass of wine.
“I figured a nice cold white would be our best bet,” I told her, gesturing to the in-ground hot tub at the end of the deck. Setting my glass on the stone, I removed my shirt, standing in just the swim trunks I put on when we got back to the house. The jets were already going, but I still heard the small gasp Penelope made when I was undressing. Smirking to myself, I kept my face away from her as I entered the tub, sitting on the side by my drink and stretching my arms across the edge. I managed to get my face back to neutral by the time Penelope reached the stairs, still in the robe, hesitating at the entrance.
I watched her, one hand gripping the bulb of the wine glass, the other still clenching the knot of the bathrobe, as her eyes darted from me to the bubbling water and back again. After a few moments, I figured she needed a bit of a push. “You comin’ in or not, Blondie?” I said, watching as she jolted out of wherever her thoughts had taken her. Making a decision, she tipped the glass up, gulping down a hefty mouthful, before setting it beside mine on the slate tiles. Standing straight again, she quickly undid the robe, placing it on a nearby lounge chair, and moved as fast as she could to the stairs into the hot tub.
As she gingerly entered the water, blowing out a few breaths at the temperature, I couldn’t help but take a few breaths of my own. Penelope had the body of a goddess.
I had always had some idea, and after having her in my arms last night at the fountains, I was fairly certain she was gonna be a knock out. But actually seeing her standing in front of me in that tiny pink bikini, so delicately tied at the hips in small bows that just made me want to tug at them, I could hardly hear anything but the pounding of my heart in my ears. I shifted on the bench as my cock responded to the sight as well. Letting my eyes trail over her, from her slender calves disappearing into the illuminated water, up over her curvy hips with their pretty pink bows, and then along the dip of her waist, the narrow curve only accentuating the lusciousness of the rest of her. She finally settled on the bench seat across from me, her cheeks red, whether from the hot water, the wine, or the situation, I didn’t know, and met my eyes through her lashes. The look she delivered carried so much inside it; heat, desire, and a touch of fear. Not of me, I was almost positive, but of the place we found ourselves. Of the fact that we were here, after a month of conflict, me as her boss, her my employee, on the cusp of whatever this was. There were so many things that could go wrong; so many ways that this could blow up in both our faces.
And I didn’t care about a single one of them.
“You look incredible, Penelope.” I moved to the next bench over, sitting perpendicular to her so that our knees touched under the water.
“Thank you, Stone.”
I watched her, the light from the under-water bulb casting inverted shadows on her face as the steam rose around us. Penelope leaned back against the tub wall with a soft sigh, and cast her eyes up to the sky.
“I can’t get over how many stars there are here,” she said softly. “You hardly ever see stars in New York, obviously. This is…” she trailed off, raising one hand to gesture at the night sky.
“Beautiful,”I finished for her, not taking my eyes off of her face.
Penelope turned to me, catching me looking, and her blush deepened. “We should probably talk, Stone.”
“I disagree,” I murmured, reaching out so my fingertips trailed along the back of her neck. I watched, fascinated, as goosebumps rose in the wake of my fingers. “I think we communicate much better when we don’t talk at all.” My fingers increased their pressure, feeling the tense muscles she was stretching earlier. I worked my thumb and fingers in firm circles up and down the column of her neck, and Penelope’s head dropped forward, a soft moan escaping when I reached the junction of her neck and shoulder.
“That may be true,” she whispered, eyes closed as I stared at her, watching as her breaths started coming faster. “But it’s still the responsible thing to do. Talk, I mean.”
I could barely hear her words over the sound of the jets, so I moved closer, shifting myself on to her bench. Penelope twisted her body away from me, but only to grant me better access to her shoulders. I raised both hands, massaging her warm skin gently, even though every possessive instinct in me wanted to press her to me, wrap my arms around her, protect her and claim her. But I forced myself to go slow, knowing that she had so much more riding on this situation than I did.
