Cowboy Take Me Away Part 8

"I'm sure you can." But his focus was already on a black bull, lying down away from the other bulls. "Was 729 acting sickly yesterday mornin'?"

"We didn't check yesterday; it's been two days. But no, he was fine."

"Don't look like he's fine now. Come on, let's go check it out."

The bull was dead. Which meant they needed to move the bulls out of that pasture now. Normally he and Cal would've just taken care of it, but Cal insisted he get cleaned up and head to Gillette.

Poor Cal was still arguing on the phone with Casper about getting his lazy a.s.s out of bed and helping him deal with the dead animal when Carson took off.

Casper. His younger brother had had a vindictive streak since they were kids. Had a big d.a.m.n chip on his shoulder too, where Carson and Cal were concerned, claiming they got preferential treatment from their father. Well, yeah, they did. Because they actually worked.

Thinking about Casper was sure to put him in a foul mood so he shoved it aside. He turned up the radio and hauled a.s.s to Gillette.

He pulled into the church parking lot at twenty-five after eleven. His worry she'd be gone evaporated when she climbed out of a 1955 Oldsmobile 88. Seeing her in a slim skirt, a floral blouse, a tight short sweater and a pair of high heels that did amazing things for her calves, had him bailing out of the truck to meet her halfway.

She smiled at him. That beautiful I'm-happy-to-see-you smile that lit up her entire face. "Hi."

"Hey. Sorry I'm runnin' a little late." Rather than haul her into his arms and lay a big wet kiss on her, he reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth for a soft kiss. "Sugar, you are pretty as a picture in your Sunday mornin' finery."

"Thank you."

Carson noticed she'd pulled her hair back and piled it up into some fancy hair-do. She wore just enough makeup to make her look polished, but not plastic. Instead of the vivid red lipstick she usually wore, her lips were a soft pink. Innocent looking but he knew the power of what that mouth could do to him.

"Umm, Carson?"

His eyes connected with hers. "Yeah?"

"Do you realize you made a...growling noise when you were staring at my lips?"

He grinned. "Nope. But it's only because your mouth looks so tasty and I can't wait to take a bite."

Carolyn stepped closer and placed her hand on his chest. "Maybe it'd be best if we left the church parking lot before you start chewing on my lips."

"That works for me. Are you hungry? The truck stop is a dive, but the food is good and I doubt you'll run into anyone you know."

She c.o.c.ked her head. "The truck stop is fine. But I'll remind you that you're the local, not me, if you're concerned about anyone you know seeing us together."

"I could give a d.a.m.n who sees us together, Caro."

"One of these days very soon, McKay, I'll expect you to prove that."

He stole one quick kiss. "And I'll be happy to." He opened the pa.s.senger door for her and helped her inside. The sleeve of her sweater snagged on a wire sticking out of the seat. "Hang on a second. You're caught." Carson gently pulled the metal free and smoothed the section of yarn back in place. He said, "All fixed," but kept running his fingertips over the back of her arm.

"Carson?"

His glanced up at her. "Did you buy this sweater because it's the exact shade of your beautiful eyes? Or because it's as soft as your skin?"

Something dark glittered in her eyes before she grabbed onto his chin. "Give me a taste of that silver tongue." She fit her mouth to his and kissed the holy h.e.l.l out of him. Right there in the church parking lot.

And her lips formed a very sneaky, self-satisfied smile when she released him. "Drive, cowboy."

At the truck stop they chose a seat at the back of the restaurant.

"So what'd you tell your family you were doin' today after church?"

"They didn't ask. I put a roast in the oven and told them when it'd be done. As long as they're fed, they probably won't even notice I'm not there."

Carson reached for her hand. "I'm sad to hear that. I imagine bein' the oldest girl in a family of boys and your mama bein' sickly that most the household stuff fell on you."

Carolyn squirmed and sipped her c.o.ke. Then she said, "It wasn't all bad."

But that didn't convince him. "How old were you when you started doin' all the cookin'?"

"Ten. But I didn't do it all. My brothers sort of helped and my mother supervised. She taught me how to do everything. I didn't look at it as a ch.o.r.e until a couple of years ago when I came home and my father expected me to do everything around the house." She disentangled her fingers from his. "What about you? How much work does your father do on the ranch?"

He pretended not to notice her physical retreat when his question hit too close to home. "He still runs everything. Me'n my brothers are just pups to him, as he reminds us every day. But he does listen to us. At least he did when two parcels of land came up for sale in the last year and he bought 'em up. With the extra grazing areas we added more cattle to our herd."

"I know I'm not supposed to ask a rancher how many heads he runs, but I'm asking you."

"Between us? Three hundred."

"Oh. That's a lot."

"Keeps us busy. We've had a couple of neighbors approach us about buyin' them out too, but we gotta wait to see how our finances are when we start selling cattle in October." He reached for her hand again. "I get plenty of ranch talk. I don't want that with you."

"Can I say something, and I hope you don't take it the wrong way?"

Hard not to bristle at that question. "I reckon."

"You seem a lot older than twenty-four. Not with the way you look, because heaven knows you've been blessed there, but how you act."

"My mother said G.o.d took an old soul and split it between me'n Cal in the womb. My dad..." Last week's conversation with his old man pushed front and center. Jesus, son, what is wrong with you? You gonna be chasin' skirts, getting drunk, starting fights and driving that truck like an idiot until you kill yourself with your own stupidity? Grow up. And get your d.a.m.n ch.o.r.es done. I swear lately you've been worse than Casper.

"Your dad what?"

Carson refocused on her. "My dad and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things."

"I know how that goes."

"And he's been a miserable jacka.s.s to everyone since Mom pa.s.sed on."

She squeezed his hand. "How long ago was that?"

"Six years. Me'n Cal had just turned eighteen. She had a stroke. Standin' in the kitchen cookin' bacon and eggs one minute and layin' dead on the floor the next."

The waitress served their meals and he was grateful for the interruption. He'd ordered biscuits and gravy with a side of sausage and pancakes. Carolyn ordered chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy. He hid his smile. The woman could eat.

Probably because she's the last to eat in her household.

"How long do I have you today?"

"I should be home by four to start supper."

"Can I say something and hope you don't take it the wrong way?"

Her blue gaze narrowed. "What?"

Carson wanted to follow the edge of her stubborn jaw with his fingertips, but he refrained. He'd never been into that touchy feely stuff in public. "You seem older than eighteen. Not with the way you look, although, sugar, you are the prettiest woman I've ever seen, but because you inherited all these responsibilities and you just accept them without question and you're not bitter about it."

She delicately wiped her mouth with the napkin and set it aside. "Some people tell me that just accepting those responsibilities means I have no backbone."

"You're too kind and too Christian to tell those folks to f.u.c.k off, aren't you?"

She whapped his forearm. "Language."

He laughed. "Come on. Let's get outta here and blow off all responsibilities for a few hours."

Once they were in the truck, he said, "Where to?"

"Cut through town and head south on county road 19. I want to show you one of my favorite places."

The day wasn't too hot and the recent rain kept the dust on the gravel road down.

"Turn here."

Carson thought he knew all the nooks and crannies of Campbell County, but he'd never been here before. A wide meadow stretched to a line of trees. Given the healthy state of the trees he suspected a stream lay on the other side. "What is this place?"

"A picnic area."

"How'd you find it?"

"On accident. I took a wrong turn and ended up here. I've been here half a dozen times and never seen anyone else around."

He faced her. "You want to be alone with me, Caro?"

Her cheeks didn't flush like he'd expected. Her direct gaze and bold statement, "More than anything," burrowed right into the heart of him.

"Let's go."

"Grab the blanket," she said and hopped out of the truck on her own. She paused at the edge of the clearing and glanced down at her clothing and shoes. "I didn't think this through."

"Gimme a moment." Carson tromped out in the field, searching for a flat place with no rocks. He kicked a couple of small ones away and spread out the blanket. Then he returned to her and lifted her into his arms.

Carolyn didn't shriek a protest; she just curled her body into his and held on.

He gently lowered her onto the blanket. When he looked at her, she wore the oddest expression. "What?"

"That was the most romantic thing that's ever happened to me."

Carson McKay should've just handed his heart over right then.

Instead he leaned over and kissed her. When he finally released her mouth to take a breath, he stretched out beside her, his head propped on his elbow.

She'd slipped her shoes off and sat in a tight ball with her arms wrapped around her legs.

"Something wrong?"

"Do you think this is weird?"

"Us bein' together?"

"Us being together on a blanket in a field out in the middle of nowhere?"

"I don't know if it's weird, but I can say it's the first time I've ever done something like this."

Her head turned so fast he wondered if she'd given herself whiplash. "It is? I mean, which part of it?"

"All of it. After I've been working outside all day I tend to stay indoors if I have free time."

"So the last thing you'd ever want to do is lie on the hard ground, surrounded by weeds and bugs while the sun beats down on you?"

Carson pushed up and sat on his haunches. "No, the last thing I want is to see that pinched look on your pretty face. Tell me what you want from me, Carolyn. And don't be shy."

She blurted, "I want to roll around on the blanket with you and make out. But I have these stupid stockings on and I don't want to snag them and this sweater is scratchy, and it was really forward of me to ask-"

He put his fingers over her lips. "Problems that are easily fixed. Nothin' is gonna happen out here that you don't want to happen. Okay?"

"What if I don't know what I want? You have so much experience with this-"

"Whoa. Hold on. Is that why you're with me? Because you want me to give you some experience?"

"No, I'm here because I like being with you. When you kiss me...I feel things I never have before and I don't know what to do or how to act on those feelings."

Sweet Jesus she was killing him. Killing him. He'd never been interested in virgins. He preferred women with experience-that way there was no misunderstanding that a quick f.u.c.k wasn't a relations.h.i.+p.

But when he looked at her? Kissed her? Thought about touching her? He had the fierce need to be the only man who ever put his hands on her. The only man who'd put his mouth on her. The only c.o.c.k that she'd ever know would be his. And he'd be the only man who'd ever hear the noises she made when she came.

"Carson? Say something."

He took her hands and removed her arms from around her knees. "Do you trust me?"

"I-I think so."

"Yes or no, sugar. No in between."

"You're so intense right now. The way you're looking at me..."

"Am I scaring you?"