DONNA ALWARD

The Cowboy's Homecoming


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he pleased, when he pleased. He called the shots and made his own choices. It had been a long time since anyone had made them for him. His choices, his consequences. It was easier that way.

      He scooted past her and grabbed his shirt from the ground, gave it a shake and pulled it on. His shorts still dripped and there was no way he could put his jeans on over top. If she hadn’t been here, he would have simply stripped to the skin and gone for a dip. Now his only option was to stand here and be cold or to take them off and pull on his jeans commando.

      “Turn around,” he ordered.

      “What?”

      “Turn around.”

      He could tell the moment she understood his meaning because her cheeks flushed bright pink. Despite it, she lifted her chin a little. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

      He could mention that he’d pretty much seen everything of hers, too, through that wet underwear, but he didn’t. If she was determined to prove a point, he’d oblige. With a shrug he pushed down his shorts and stepped out of them, then reached for his jeans and tugged them on awkwardly. His skin was still wet and the fabric clung to his legs. He finally got them buttoned and carefully zipped.

      When he looked up her face was bright red, but she hadn’t looked away.

      It was better now that he was dressed, and he reached down and grabbed her T-shirt, handing it over. “Here. Get warm.”

      She dropped her towel and he caught a glimpse of her abdomen, lean and pale compared to the worker’s tan on her arms and face. Immediately the green shirt got dark, damp spots on her chest.

      What he really wanted to do was spread out his shirt or that towel and lay her down on it. That part hadn’t changed. He still found her beautiful, intriguing and sexy as hell. Probably because of her confidence. Or bullheadedness. Two sides of the same coin, he figured.

      And then she stripped off her panties and pulled on her jeans and he had to look away. Whatever point she was trying to prove, she’d done it.

      “Kailey, I don’t want things to be strained. I can’t apologize forever. I meant it when I said I was completely at fault. I don’t know how else to make amends. What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. The last thing I want is to disrupt anything here.”

      She wadded up her underwear and rolled them into the damp towel. “There’s nothing you can do. I don’t actually want to keep punishing you for it. I can’t seem to help myself.”

      “I’m not trying to push your buttons.”

      “I know that. You’ve gone out of your way to be nice. I just...don’t want you to be nice. I don’t know what I want, Rylan. I have too much pride for my own good.”

      He chuckled then. “No wonder we seem to butt heads. All that pride getting in the way.”

      “What can I say? I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder. I’ve had to.”

      He didn’t doubt it. He knew for a fact that Kailey was heavily involved in raising Brandt stock, and that took strength and a good amount of backbone. There were still some good old boys who didn’t appreciate a woman running ranch operations and didn’t like taking orders. It was a load of garbage, in his opinion.

      But he guessed that what had happened on Valentine’s Day probably also had gotten around town. He sat down on the grass and patted the spot beside him. “Sit for a minute, instead of looking like you’re ready to throttle me.”

      She hesitated but then sat, pulling her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The pose made her look almost childlike, especially with her tawny hair falling over her shoulders in wet ribbons.

      “Did what happened with us make things difficult for you?” he asked quietly.

      She frowned. “What do you mean?”

      “I mean, stiffing the guy for the room was unintentional, but Gibson is small. If what happened got around...” He let the thought hang for a few seconds before continuing. “I know you’re a woman operating in a male-dominated world. The last thing you need is rumors about your personal life undermining that.”

      “I’m not sure if I’m touched by your concern or infuriated that it’s even an issue. I’m sure your reputation wouldn’t suffer for such a thing. You’d be given atta boys. Am I right?”

      “It’s a stupid double standard, and I hope I didn’t play a part in it.”

      She met his gaze. “Rylan, I’m no angel. I’m in my late twenties and definitely not some delicate, virginal flower. But I certainly don’t make a habit of catting around, and I keep my personal life discreet.” She sighed. “Or at least I try to.”

      Rylan hadn’t considered this side of things before, and a pang of regret made his heart heavy. When was the last time he’d truly liked someone enough to care what happened the morning after? He honestly couldn’t remember. He moved around. Got used to the buckle bunnies who followed the circuit and were looking to put another notch on their belts. Up until this year, he’d obliged now and again.

      Not since February though. Not since he’d awakened in the dark to find Kailey sleeping beside him. Something had happened. Something that had made him feel wonderful and extremely uncomfortable at the same time.

      The urge to stay.

      He’d half figured that by leaving the way he did, she’d get a good old-fashioned hate on for him and that would be that. He’d come back to Crooked Valley expecting a cold shoulder. Over and done with, move on.

      He could see now his thinking had been flawed. Because Kailey was more hurt and embarrassed than angry, and knowing it brought out every single protective and possessive instinct he had. He wanted to fix it, explain. He wanted... Crap. He wanted to be able to forget about her the way he’d expected her to forget about him. And he couldn’t.

      That wouldn’t do anyone any good, and neither would sitting in the middle of a field in semi-darkness.

      “Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he suggested. “It’s getting dark.”

      “Newsflash, Duggan. You’re on Brandt land. I’m already home. Maybe I should walk you back, huh?”

      She was so quick, a little feisty, and he liked that about her. A lot. “If you want to kill my reputation with a single blow, sure. Big bad rodeo star needs an escort home in the dark.”

      Not that he couldn’t find a few things to do in the dark with her.

      He had to stop thinking that way.

      “I guess we’ll just part ways here then,” she replied and pushed to her feet.

      “I guess.” He got up and brushed the dirt from the seat of his jeans. “Um, I’ll see you around. I guess.”

      “Yup.”

      He’d taken maybe half a dozen steps back toward the horse trail that ran along the creek when she called out to him. “Hey, Rylan.”

      He turned and faced her, and the image of her standing in the twilight among the waving grass did something queer to his pulse.

      “It was good to say my piece. Clear the air, so to speak.”

      “Good. It’s probably better if we can be civil.”

      She nodded. “Well, see ya.”

      Kailey turned and started walking in the opposite direction, her hips swinging a little with each step, her towel and underwear balled up in her hand. Rylan looked down at the cotton in his hands and let out a huge breath before tucking his shorts half into his back pocket, the end trailing out like a handkerchief.

      Civil. Clearing the air.

      He was glad she was happy about it, because to his mind things just had gotten a whole lot more complicated.