The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes: Take Me, Cowboy / Hold Me, Cowboy / Seduce Me, Cowboy / Claim Me, Cowboy / The Rancher's Baby
not trying to be.” He was getting ready to punch his brother in the face anyway.
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re just saying,” he muttered. “Go just say somewhere else. A guy whose only friends are his younger brother and that brother’s friend maybe shouldn’t stand there and make commentary on relationships.”
“I’m quiet. I’m perceptive. As you mentioned, I am an artist.”
“You can’t pull that out when it suits you and put it away when it doesn’t.”
“Sure I can. Artists are temperamental.”
“Stop beating around the bush. Say what you want to say.”
Sam sighed. “If she offers you more than friendship, take it, dumbass.”
“Why would you think that she would ever offer that? Why would you think that I want it?”
He felt defensive. And more than a little bit annoyed. “She will. I’m not blind. Actually, being antisocial has its benefits. It means that I get to sit back and watch other people interact. She likes you. She always has. And she’s the kind of good... Chase, we don’t get good like that. We don’t deserve it.”
“Gee. Thanks, Sam.”
“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m just saying that she’s better than either of us. Figure out how to make it work if she wants to.”
Everything in Chase recoiled. “She doesn’t want to. And neither do I.” He turned away from Sam, heading toward the door.
“Are you sleeping with her yet?”
Chase froze. “That isn’t any of your business.”
“Right. You are.”
“Still not your business.”
“Chase, we both have a lot of crap to wade through. Which is pretty obvious. But if she’s standing there willing to pull you out, I’m just saying you need to take her up on her offer.”
“She has enough crap of her own that she’s hip deep in, Sam. I don’t need her taking on mine.”
Sam rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Yeah, that’s always the thing.”
“Anyway, she doesn’t want me. Not like that. I mean, not forever. This is just a...physical thing.” Which was way more information than his brother deserved.
“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.”
“I sleep like a baby, Sam.” He continued out the door, heading toward his truck. He had to get back to the house and get showered and dressed so that he could pick up Anna. And he was not going to think about anything his brother had said.
Anna didn’t want forever with him.
That thought immobilized him, forced him to imagine a future with Anna, stretching on and on into the distance. Holding her, kissing her. Sleeping beside her every night and waking up with her every morning.
Seeing her grow round with his child.
He shut it down immediately. That was a fantasy. One he didn’t want. One he couldn’t have.
He would have Anna as a friend forever, but the “benefits” portion of their relationship was finite.
So, he would just enjoy this while it lasted.
She looked like a cliché. A really slutty one. She wasn’t sure she cared. But in her very short denim skirt and plaid shirt knotted above the waistline she painted quite the picture.
One of a woman looking to get lucky.
“Well,” she said to her reflection—her made-up reflection, compliments of her trip to the store in Tolowa today, as was everything else. “You are looking to get lucky.”
Fair. That was fair.
She heard the sound of a truck engine and tires on the gravel in her short little driveway. She was renting a house in an older neighborhood in town—not right in the armpit of town where she’d grown up, but still sort of on the fringe—and the yard was a little bit...rustic.
She wondered if Chase would honk. Or if he would come to the door.
Him coming to the door would feel much more like a date. A real date.
A date date.
Oh, Lord, what were they doing?
She had flirted with him on the phone, and she’d enjoyed it. Had wanted—very much—to push him even harder. Trading innuendo with him was...well, it was a lot more fun than she’d imagined.
There was a heavy knock on the door and she squeaked, hopping a little bit before catching her breath. Then she grabbed her purse and started to walk to the entry, trying to calm her nerves. He’d come to the door. That felt like A Thing.
You’re being crazy. Friends with benefits. Not boyfriend.
The word boyfriend made her stomach lurch, and she did her best to ignore it. She jerked the door open, watching his face intently for his response to her new look. And she was not disappointed.
“Damn,” he said, leaning forward, resting his forearm on the doorjamb. “I didn’t realize you would be showing up dressed as Country Girl from My Dirtiest Dreams.”
She shouldn’t feel flattered by that. But she positively glowed. “It seemed fair, since you’re basically the centerfold of Blacksmith Magazine.”
He laughed. “Really? How would that photo shoot go?”
“You posing strategically in front of the forge with a bellows over your junk.”
“I am not getting my junk near the forge. The last thing I need is sensitive body parts going up in flames.”
“I know I don’t want them going up in flames.” She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of a thick blanket of awkwardness settling over them. She didn’t know what to do with him now. Did she...not touch him unless they were going to have sex? Did she kiss him if she wanted to or did she need permission?
She needed a friends-with-benefits handbook.
“Um,” she began, rather unsuccessfully. “What exactly are my benefits?”
“Meaning?”
“My benefits additional to this friendship. Do I...kiss you when I see you? Or...”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
She looked up at him, all sexy and delicious looking in his tight black T-shirt, cowboy hat and late-in-the-day stubble. “Is that a trick question? Because the only answer to ‘Do I want to kiss a very hot guy?’ is yes. But not if you don’t want to kiss me.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her up against him before bending down to kiss her slowly, thoroughly. “Does that help?”
She let out a long, slow breath, the tension that had been strangling her since he’d arrived at her house leaving her body slowly. “Yes,” she said, sighing. “It does.”
“All right,” he said, extending his hand. “Let’s go.”
She took hold of his hand, the warmth of his touch flooding her, making her stomach flip. She let him lead her to the truck, open her door for her. All manner of date-type stuff. The additional benefits were getting bound up in the dating lessons and at the moment she wasn’t sure what was for her and what was for the Making Her Datable mission.
Then she decided it didn’t matter.
She just clung to the good feelings the whole drive to