Page 15 of My Cowboy Salvation
I don’t know what I expect him to say or confess here, and I’m not about to ask him how often he takes them up on their offers, despite how much I’m dying to know. Instead, I pop the cork off the bottle of wine and pour myself a glass. I take a sip before prepping the rest of the food as he sets the table.
When it’s ready, we fill our plates and sit down to eat. Compared to what Mariah showed up looking like, I’m suddenly acutely aware of how plain and non-sexy I look. Grabbing my bag of makeup wasn’t so much a priority as was saving my life when I left San Francisco. I would give anything for a bottle of mascara and a good eyelash curler to give my eyes some definition. Some good foundation would also be helpful to cover the trail of freckles that cross my nose and upper cheeks. Not to mention a dress that might show the delicate, more subtle size of my breasts, although my breasts will never be as luscious as Mariah’s. I know they are quite visible in the tee shirt I’m wearing, probably having something to do with the fact I opted to forgo wearing a bra this evening.
I might be a woman on the run, but I’m a woman with urges and a need to be desired, especially when the object of my own desire is sitting and enjoying a meal I prepared just for him.
I take a generous drink of my wine, enjoying the heat as it slips down my throat to my belly. There is something sensuous in seeing a man eat the food I lovingly prepared, particularly as he takes a bite and closes his eyes and groans. “This is amazing, Dylan. If I’d have known you could cook, I might have asked you to do it all week.”
“I can, if you want me to,” I say quickly. “I just don’t know your schedule or if you would want dinner here.”
“I’m joking, Dylan. You are not here to cook for me or take care of me. That’s what I’m here to do for you.”
Sheesh, he can’t say stuff like that or look at me like that with his baby blues because it’s making it hard to ignore the fluttering in my belly… and the increasing wetness between my legs.
I take another gulp of wine as he resumes his eating. “She mentioned something about drug dealers and murderers. Do you really see that kind of action up here?” I take a bite of my food, something necessary to slow the effect of the wine.
“Believe me, there are bad guys everywhere. And yes, that includes murderers and drug dealers. We had a big case last month when we raided the operation of a well-known local drug dealer. He didn’t take kindly to having his drug operation getting shut down and, as revenge, kidnapped and nearly murdered an innocent woman.”
I stop my chewing and stare at him. “Is she okay?”
“She’s safe, and the dealer won’t be hurting anyone. This isn’t said to scare you, Dylan,” he says gently, as if sensing this might be too close to home. “Just want to remind you that you have to be careful wherever you go. There will always be bad people doing bad things.”
I stare at this man who was out there putting his life in danger to get a drug dealer off the street, and I’m reminded once again what a hero he is. After his time in the Army, he could have retired to civilian life and done something safe and secure. But that isn’t Logan. He’s a man who will always fight to do what’s right, putting others first, no matter what.
“I think you’re amazing,” I say without thinking, and then immediately stare down in embarrassment. “I just mean, that you are a good man. Always putting everyone else before yourself. It says a lot about you.”
When he doesn’t comment, I sneak a look up to see him staring at me with an intensity that has my mouth drying. “I’m not anyone special,” he says finally. “I just do what I have to do.”
“You’re more than special. You’re a hero,” I say in almost a whisper. “Any woman would be lucky to have you in their life.”
“I’m looking for a hell of a lot more than just any woman, Dylan,” he breathes.
Okay. So he didn’t say anything about me being that woman, but the meaning seems clear, and I don’t know how to process that. Or if it’s true. Maybe I shouldn’t have any more wine…
We both stare at each other as the seconds tick on. The same heat and energy I felt the other night crackles in the air between us, and I can’t help but feel as if he were to touch me right now, I’d be instantly electrified. The silence continues, and I feel like I should fill the space with empty words to bring the temperature down, but I can’t.
I wish I were confident enough, sure enough, to stand up and walk over to him, to sit in his lap as I wrap my hands around his neck, and pull his mouth to mine, wiggle my ass over his crotch until I feel him stir against me, confirming his desire.
The sound of the house phone ringing startles us both, and Logan jumps up from the table and heads to the receiver. It’s strange to see a landline these days, but as Logan assured me that first morning, it can come in handy when the severe winter storms hit the area, sometimes knocking out the cell towers.
“Hello,” he says brusquely, facing away from me, but not before I get a brief glimpse of what I’m almost certain is an erection.
The prospect has me licking my lips and smiling to myself in nervous anticipation.
Maybe sleeping with Logan McCall isn’t just a girlish fantasy.
“Yeah. The package arrived safely.” He pauses, his face strained. “That’s probably not a good idea, Parker.”
Parker? It feels like someone has dropped a bucket of cold water over my head as I realize it’s my old boyfriend on the phone, calling to check on me. While I’m fantasizing about what it would feel like to make love to his dad.
Okay. Love isn’t exactly what I was thinking. It was fucking. Pure, animal fucking.
They share a few more words before Logan hangs up and returns to the table.
“What did he want?” I ask.
“He was talking about coming up to visit, but it’s too soon. I don’t know if Simon has anyone watching him, but it’s not something he can risk. Not right now, and I told him so.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Why would Parker want to come here now?”
