“Yes, ma’am.” Suddenly he wasn’t the least bit tired.

  “I guess you can also say yes, ma’am now and then, because that Southern drawl turns me on like you wouldn’t believe. No more being solicitous, though. I’ve been waiting to climb into bed with you for hours. Hay bales are fine once in a while, but I wouldn’t want a steady diet of having sex on them.”

  Neither would he, but he didn’t say so. He was saving his breath for all those gasps and moans of ecstasy she’d promised him. Apparently the switch Tracy had flipped to give herself a change of attitude had been permanently turned on. And he was loving it.

  “I will, however, let you feed the critters so I can sleep in. You make an excellent point about the shopping trip, and I need to be sharp for that. There’s an art to choosing the right hat, especially the first one. Eventually you’ll get a feel for how to choose them on your own.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s what I like. A Southern gentleman in an agreeable mood. I can’t wait to get you naked.”

  He was laughing, now, because he so enjoyed listening to her being sassy. But as they climbed the steps together and went into the house, he realized that he’d semicommitted to staying at least through tomorrow night. He doubted they’d come home from a hat-shopping trip and not want to celebrate the event appropriately, which would be in his bed.

  But if Dottie and Sprinkles continued to do well, he had no official reason to stay after that. The mare had foaled and Tracy was no longer afraid of her sexuality. If he stayed beyond tomorrow night, word would surely get out.

  After that, he could reasonably predict that someone, most likely Josie, would demand to know his intentions. After all, he’d told her he wouldn’t be getting involved with Tracy. Unfortunately, he had no idea what his intentions were.

  At least he had no idea for the future. The present was crystal clear, especially after Tracy drew him into the guest bedroom and clothes began flying everywhere. He couldn’t have talked, even if she hadn’t forbid him to. He was too busy kissing whatever wonders he uncovered.

  He was particularly focused on her plump breasts. He’d denied himself the pleasure of touching and licking them when he’d made love to her in the barn, but he planned to correct that omission now. Once they were both stripped down to nothing, he tumbled her back onto the bed, cupped that glorious bounty in both hands, and feasted.

  Moaning, she arched into his caress, which sent desire shooting through his veins. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. After putting up with a blanket tossed onto a hay bale, having her stretched out on the bed, where he had access to every bit of her, made him determined not to miss a single inch of soft, moist skin.

  She was delicious everywhere, but when he slid down between her thighs and tasted her essence, desire ripped through him with a tsunami-like force. She writhed beneath him as she responded to the lap of his tongue and the thrust of his fingers. She came, and then she came again, her cries filling the room.

  He loved hearing those lusty sounds, loved knowing she could make all the noise she wanted this time. He lingered in that sweet valley as she trembled in the aftermath. Her scent intoxicated him, and although his cock was stiff as granite, although his balls ached for release, he leaned forward and swiped his tongue over her pulsing center. Maybe once more.

  She gasped and clutched his head as she struggled for breath. “Come...here.” She tugged.

  He eased up her sweat-dampened body and hovered over her, his forearms taking most of his weight.

  She looked up at him, her dark eyes glazed with pleasure. “That was...” She smiled. “Good.”

  “I’m glad.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers so she could share the taste. Then he watched as she licked her lips. He had to clench his jaw against the urge to come. Once he had himself under control, he cleared his throat. “Can I talk, now?”

  “Uh-huh.” She dragged in air. “But first, get the box.”

  He didn’t have to ask what she meant. There was only one box that mattered, the one that had been sitting on the nightstand when they’d walked into the room. Fortunately he could reach it without much effort. He set it down between her breasts. “Here.”

  She pulled a packet out and handed it to him. “Here.”

  Grinning, he pushed himself to a sitting position straddling her thighs, ripped open the packet and handed her the unwrapped condom. “Here.” This was fun. He picked up the box and leaned slightly forward so he could return it to the nightstand while putting his cock within her reach.

  He’d thought he was being so clever, so cute. Then she fumbled the job. Not completely, because she got the thing on him, but in the process he had flashbacks to his teen years when he’d had the control of a gnat. Giggling hysterically might have been part of her problem. He didn’t think it was so damn funny, and neither would she if this condom application went bad.

  Finally she snapped it in place. “There.”

  He spoke through gritted teeth. “Thanks.”

  “Your face is all scrunched up.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Did I get it on right? Maybe I should adjust—”

  “Don’t touch.”

  “If you say so.” Laughter rippled through her voice. “Are we going to do this, then?”

  “In a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  Gradually the pounding in his groin let up enough that he unclenched his jaw and opened his eyes.

  She stared up at him, all innocence except for the sparkle of mischief lurking in her eyes.

  “Tracy, did you do that on purpose?”

  Her smile confirmed his suspicions. “You started it,” she said. “I just ended it.”

  “You almost did end it.” He moved between her soft thighs, grateful that he’d held on, in spite of her. His reward would be worth everything she’d put him through.

  “Just proving a point.”

  “What point?” He knew the territory well, now, and he found her slick heat without effort. After two orgasms, she was drenched. He held back, poised at her entrance, knowing that once he thrust deep, his brain would cease to function, and he wanted to hear this.

  “A cowboy only fires when ready. More evidence that you qualify.”

  “Damnation, woman! You’re makin’ this up as you go along.”

  “Ask any cowboy. They’ll say it’s true.”

  “I guarantee they would, sweetheart. No man would admit to anything less, cowboy or stockbroker.”

  She ran her hands down his back and bracketed his hips. “Just want to make sure you’re still getting that hat.”

  “I don’t know. You’d better check out my other qualifications before we go shopping.”

  “Such as?”

  He surged forward, burying himself in her hot channel as she gasped in surprise. Breathing hard, he gazed down at her. “Is that the cowboy way?”

  She gulped. “Yes.”

  “How about this?” He began a slow, deliberate rhythm and watched the fire build in her eyes. “Is that how cowboys do it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then what?” He shifted his angle and picked up the pace. “Like this?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She clutched his hips and held on as her breasts jiggled with the impact of each thrust. “Just like that.”

  He scooped one arm under her bottom and lifted her just enough to let him go deeper. “Then maybe this.”

  She didn’t answer him this time, but her body did. The first spasm rolled over his cock, then the second.

  “Come for me, Tracy.” He felt her give way. “That’s it, darlin’. Now.”

  She erupted in his arms, and he followed her right down that tumbling waterfall of sensation. His cries blended with hers as he surrendered to a climax that shook him to his soul. If this was the cowboy way, he was all for it.

  10

  TRACY FELL ASLEEP in Drake’s arms, his body still locked securely with hers. Obviously that situation had changed at some point, because when her phone alarm went off, she was by herself in his bed. She stretched and foolishly wished he’d been there beside her when she’d opened her eyes.

  That wouldn’t have worked out too well, though. She was still naked, and thoughts of him brought a rush of arousal to all the places he’d loved so energetically hours earlier. If he’d been there, she would have been tempted to replay some of those excellent moments.

  But she had to go to work. As she sat up, she noticed a note anchored by the box of condoms sitting on the nightstand. He’d scribbled it in haste and he wrote in cursive, not the neat block letters she’d noticed many men preferred. His handwriting was horrible, and she had to squint to figure out some of the words, but she managed it.

  Dottie and Sprinkles doing great. Critters all fed. Coffee in the carafe if you want it. Drove home for a few things. Back around noon. Will start feeding at five. See you after work. I just realized I don’t know where you live. I mean normally.

  He’d signed it D. No tender closing. The man had admitted to writing poetry, but there wasn’t anything poetic about this note. If she’d hoped for something sweet, something to let her know...what? That he was madly in love with her? That would be a little quick, now, wouldn’t it? She’d be suspicious of a love note this soon.

  Or so she told herself. Still, the utilitarian message he’d left, and the very fact he hadn’t waited until she woke up to drive away, didn’t make her feel all warm and fuzzy. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d signed his note Warmly or Fondly. He’d been both warm and fond in the barn and in this bed.

  He’d been one hot commodity, too. Whew. If he’d been popular with women in the past, and she believed that he had, then experience counted for something. He’d given her more pleasure in a few hours than her other two serious boyfriends had given her...ever. They’d never come close to making her yell. In this room, in this bed, with Drake, she’d yelled. Loudly.

  Maybe loud yelling didn’t translate into flowery love notes. If she had to choose, she’d take sex that prompted shouts of joy over those notes. No contest there. Plus he had asked where she lived, which had a promising ring to it, as if he might want to continue seeing her after the house-sitting gig ended.

  After all they’d shared, she found it odd that he didn’t know that simple fact about her. She rented a small apartment above Spirits and Spurs from Josie. Josie had lived there originally, and after she’d moved to the Last Chance, Caro Davis had stepped in to help run the bar. Caro had also rented the apartment because it was so close to work.

  Now married, Caro and former Chicago Cubs star Logan Carswell traveled the country, using Logan’s invested earnings to do good works. Logan ran baseball clinics for disadvantaged kids and Caro supervised quilting circles in senior centers.

  Tracy had grabbed the apartment the minute Caro had moved out. She loved living in the middle of the tiny town where she’d grown up. Before she started her shift, she’d check on her houseplants. She glanced at the digital clock on her phone. Time to get moving.

  She’d rather not have to explain being late. She wasn’t good at lying, and because of her caretaking chores at Peaceful Kingdom, she couldn’t use oversleeping as a legitimate excuse. That would imply she’d neglected the animals.

  After quickly making the bed, she returned to her own room to shower and dress. Lily and Regan’s bed was a king and more suited for wild sex, but Tracy had made a decision to keep the action in the guest room. That seemed more respectful. Drake hadn’t questioned her choice, and she’d bet that he’d agree with her. Southern manners and all that.

  Having him gone felt strange, which wasn’t the least bit logical. He hadn’t arrived to check on Dottie until late in the afternoon, so he’d been on the premises less than twenty-four hours. It seemed longer, no doubt because of all they’d experienced. And all they’d talked about.

  She hoped he wouldn’t back out of the shopping trip. She’d never known a man who loved to buy clothes, and a hat was an article of clothing. For Drake, though, it was far more than that. She’d stumbled into that discussion out of pure curiosity, and thank goodness she had. He’d helped her leap the boundaries of her comfort zone, and maybe she could help him forgive himself enough to buy a hat.

  Holding that thought, she hurried down to the barn to make sure Dottie and Sprinkles were doing fine. They were snuggled together, both sound asleep, so she hopped in her little white truck and drove to Spirits and Spurs. It wasn’t a muscular truck, but it ran well and people in Shoshone tended to drive pickups. She felt more a part of the community having a truck instead of a sedan.

  She adored this quaint town with its one stoplight and a typical main street lined with a few established businesses. Shoshone had a diner, a general store, a gas station, a real-estate office, an ice-cream parlor and the bar. Folks who needed to do serious shopping went to Jackson about an hour away, just as she and Drake planned to do tonight.

  Congratulating herself on coming up with a plan that would give them some anonymity on their outing, she pulled into the side parking lot next to Spirits and Spurs. Josie’s truck was there, so her employer must have decided to work on the books today. Maybe she’d brought Archie in. Tracy adored that little towhead. Archie was the only person in the world who could turn Jack Chance into mush. It was fun to watch.

  She entered the bar through the front door, which all the employees did except Josie. The building was old and the design was quirky. The only back door opened straight into Josie’s office. That meant at closing time all the garbage had to be taken through there, and all food supplies came in through her office, too.

  Josie kept talking about remodeling, but that would require some structural changes that would permanently alter the look and feel of the bar. Nobody wanted that.

  Some said that the “spirits” who’d inspired Josie to change the name of the bar would stage a revolt if she remodeled. It was said that the bar was haunted by the ghosts of miners and cowboys who’d patronized it during its century-long existence. Tracy had never seen a ghost, but she knew people who swore that they had, including Josie.

  The bar wasn’t busy at eleven in the morning, either with live guests or dearly departed ones. The lunch rush would start in another hour. Archie’s cheerful little voice piped up from the office and Tracy smiled. She’d take a minute to say hello before starting her shift.

  At age two and a half, Archie was speaking in complete sentences and getting into everything. Tracy admired Josie for bringing him to her office, where he could quickly create chaos if she turned her back on him for even a second. But Josie seemed to have a sixth sense about that.

  Peeking through the office door, Tracy discovered her boss wasn’t trying to work, after all. She sat at her desk with Archie on her lap while he colored enthusiastically on blank sheets of paper Josie had provided.

  “Looks like Rembrandt in training,” Tracy said.

  Josie glanced up. “Maybe. I’m thinking he’s more of an impressionist.”

  Archie finished drawing with a purple crayon and held up his picture. “I made a doggie.”

  Tracy gave him thumbs-up. “You totally did, Archie!”

  The little boy turned the paper around and nodded with satisfaction at what he saw. “Yup. I totally did.” He mimicked Tracy’s thumbs-up before grabbing another piece of paper so he could start his next masterpiece.

  Josie sent Tracy a look. “Does that attitude remind you of anybody?”

  “Yep.” Tracy smiled.

  “It’s as if Jack spit him right out of his mouth.”

  Archie looked up and giggled. “You’re silly, Mommy!”

  “I get it from you, you little munchkin.” Josie blew a raspberry against his cheek.

  He giggled some more. “Stop it, Mommy. I gotta work.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” Tracy said. “See you guys later.” She turned to leave.

  “Just a sec, Tracy. I wanted to ask you about something.”

  With a sense of foreboding, Tracy faced her boss. “What’s that?” But she knew.

  “I understand you have a pregnant mare out at Peaceful Kingdom.”

  Tracy gulped. Then she stammered. All in all, she reacted exactly like someone who had been doing something clandestine. And the whole story was about to come out.

  “I took her in yesterday. How did you know?”

  Something flickered in Josie’s blue eyes. “A guy named Jerry Rankin came into the bar last night to ask around and find out if anyone knew of a job.”

  “He came here? Do you have a contact number for him?” Maybe this wasn’t such a disaster, after all, if Josie had a number for Jerry.

  “He’s at the Last Chance. Jack put him on the payroll temporarily. He wasn’t happy that the guy dumped a mare about to foal on an unsuspecting house sitter. Jerry admitted he knew the foal could come any minute, which was one of the main reasons he brought her to you.”

  “He knew that? I wish he’d told me.”

  “He was afraid if he did, you wouldn’t take her. In his defense, he didn’t fully understand the awkward situation he was sticking you with. He just knew he didn’t have the resources to deal with it. Jack wanted me to ask you about the mare when you came in today.”

  “Well, she’s fine.” Tracy felt her cheeks warm. “She delivered her foal last night.”

  Josie swore, and then quickly covered Archie’s ears, as if she could keep him from hearing. “Sorry, munchkin.”

  “It’s okay, Mommy.”

  “So she foaled.” The sharpness in Josie’s blue eyes didn’t match her casual pose. “But surely you didn’t try to handle that yourself.”

  “No, but since I’d taken in an animal against Regan and Lily’s instructions, I didn’t want to call the vet in Jackson because that would cost a bunch of money.”

  “You called Drake Brewster.”

  “Yes.” Tracy took a shaky breath. “He did a terrific job, Josie. He’s a good guy who made a terrible mistake. I think maybe we should all—”

  “I agree with you.”

  “You do? I thought everybody at the Last Chance hated Drake.”