Cowboy Heaven (4 page)

No, what I thought about was the maleness of him, the intoxicating combination of scents. His warmth, the strength of his arms, the tantalizing feel of his tongue as it teased its way into my mouth. He might have been wondering just how far he could go with a lonely widow, how much he could get. I didn't give a damn what he did as long as he didn't stop. Looking back on my fantasy, if I'd only known then what a great kisser he was, I would have added kissing to that scenario.
Lots
of kissing. I would have driven him to Timbuktu for one fabulously, deliciously enthralling kiss…

“I love your braids.” His murmur vibrated against my lips as he allowed one braid to slide through his fingers. “But I'd really like to get my hands in your hair when it's loose. So soft, so…” A deep sigh escaped him as he kissed me again. Shifting off the seat, he leaned into me, pushing me flat on my back, kissing me all the way down until he was on his knees straddling my hips. I felt him tugging on my braids, realizing after a moment that he'd pulled the bands off the ends and was unbraiding my hair, combing it out with his fingers. I kept waiting for it to end, waiting to come to my senses with him waving a hand in front of my glazed eyes, saying, “Earth to Angela!”

But it didn't happen. This was no fantasy playing through my mind. This was really happening. I was making out with the hottest, sexiest cowboy this world has ever seen, and it was real. It wasn't a fabrication of my love-starved mind.

Jesus, what a concept… What a totally mind-blowing concept!
I'd been virtually ignored for two years and now this. It's a wonder I didn't pass out from the shock.

Somewhere along the line I noticed his hat was missing, and I clutched at his head, reveling in the texture of his soft, springy curls between my fingers. After that, I figured, what the hell, anything was fair game, and I ran my hands down his back and slid my fingertips beneath the waistband of his jeans.

With that tiny scrap of encouragement, he reached down and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, then rocked forward on me, moving his hips higher up on my body, allowing me to reach them more easily. I shoved those jeans down as far as I could and went for his bare buns. I sucked in a breath as my hands made contact with his hot, smooth skin. Grabbing his cheeks with both hands, I squeezed hard enough to leave fingerprints.

“Angie likes ass, huh?” His whispered question tickled my ear.

All I could say was, “Mmm…”

“Well, Angie baby, you can grab my ass all you like,” he growled. “Do anything to it you want, although what you're doing now feels so damn good, I just might come all over you.”

“Guess I'd better stop, then.” I was surprised I could even form the words, let alone carry them out. “You know…save some for later?”

He groaned as though that thought might be the death of him. “No, don't stop. Keep going, Angie. Keep playing with my ass.”

“I could do it better if it was a little closer,” I said. “Let me scoot down some.”

As he released me and raised his right knee, I slid across the seat underneath him until I was in almost the same position I'd been in during my fantasy. A glistening droplet of fluid dripped onto my lips from his rock-hard penis. I was just about to suck that puppy into my mouth when we were rudely interrupted by the honking of a horn as another vehicle rattled past, reminding us that we were parked on the shoulder of a public road in broad daylight.

No one in a small car could've seen us, but Troy's bare butt may have been visible from another truck. Also, since my truck was fairly well-known in those parts, it was a safe bet that whoever had passed us probably knew I had to be there as well, whether they'd seen me or not.

So much for being discreet.

Troy burst out laughing. “Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. No, let me rephrase that, maybe this wasn't such a good
place
for it. The idea itself was excellent.”

Needless to say, I was in complete agreement. “No shit. Are they turning around to come back for another look?”

He rose up to peer through the windshield, giving me a full frontal view of him that was even more breathtaking than the one I'd imagined. His shirt was hanging open, completely unbuttoned, revealing black, curling hair on his chest that tapered down across his stomach only to flare out again to surround his stellar cock and balls. I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping out loud.

“Nope,” he replied. “All I see is a car driving on down the road. Don't see anything heading in this direction.”

“Great. Give me just one more second…”

“For what?”

“This.” Pushing up from the seat, I ran my tongue over the head of his engorged penis, lapping up the juice oozing from his slit. That endeavor got me more, but instead of the hot fudge on vanilla ice cream analogy, it was more like maple syrup from a squeeze bottle, although salty rather than sweet. I painted my lips with the slippery sauce before sucking him in like a Popsicle.

“Oh, Angie,” he groaned. “You wouldn't happen to need a slightly used boy toy, would you?”

I pushed his dick aside to reply. “I thought you said you wouldn't make a good boy toy. That you were too bullheaded. And you are, aren't you?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “But I'd try to be good.” He rubbed the tip of his cock on my cheek. “I'd be
very
good. No nasty diseases. No strings attached.”

“Troy the Boy Toy.” I couldn't help giggling. “I like the sound of that, but my dad probably wouldn't. We'd have to be sneaky.”

“Your dad?” he asked with surprise. “I thought you said you'd be the one writing my paycheck.”

“That's right, but technically, Dad owns the ranch. I just pay the bills.”

“Damn.”

I giggled again. “You'll probably end up actually having to do some work to earn your money. The boy toy thing would have to be a perk.”

“That would be quite a perk. Of course, if you work me too hard, I won't have enough energy for my boy toy duties.”

“Yes, but you're young. You'll adjust.” To demonstrate how much fun a job like that could be, I tickled his nuts and slid his cock into my mouth again, sucking him hard and deep. The surge of heat in my core served as a reminder of how good his fabulous dick would feel if he ever got around to actually fucking me with it.

“Well, yes, I probably
could
do both,” he agreed after a moment's reflection. “I've done it before for my, um, girlfriend.”

I paused in my efforts to comment. “Whose name you seem to have, um, forgotten?”

With a nod, he let out a groan of pure pleasure. “I don't think I even remember what she looks like. All I know is she never made me feel as good as you have in the past hour or so—not in the whole time I knew her.” He sighed deeply. “And not only by what you're doing right now—which she didn't like to do, by the way—but by making me feel like I can talk to you, tell you things about myself and you don't judge, you just accept me for who I am.”

Actually, it was the way anyone's mother might make them feel, but I chose not to mention that. Instead, I followed his comments with one of my own that put me clearly out of the mother category.

“Which is what? A tasty cowboy with a brain and a dick to die for?” I punctuated my sentence with a kiss on the end of said dick, and slid out from under him. Settling myself behind the wheel, I flipped my hair back over my shoulders. “What do you say we get you back to the ranch before someone else drives by?”

With a pained expression, he nodded his reluctant agreement and pushed up from the seat. After easing himself upright again, he looked down at his groin. “This is gonna be worse than if I'd taken off my boots. I don't know if I can get into my jeans.”

“Think of something that would make your dick shrivel up,” I advised. “Like going for a swim in the North Atlantic.”

“Or getting left behind on the highway in the middle of Wyoming.” The note of irony in his tone was impossible to miss.

“That might do it—or not. Hmm…” I reached over and cupped a hand beneath his cock, lifting it up for a closer inspection. “It doesn't seem to be getting any smaller. Maybe I need to suck you off, after all.”

Having said that, I was pleased to note that his penis didn't shrivel in the slightest, but turned to granite in a matter of seconds.

“I don't think you're helping matters any,” he gasped. “Do you think you could…?”

“Suck your dick? Tickle your balls? Play with your ass?” I stared at his stiff shaft, giggling. “Troy, this is amazing! It seems to grow a little more with everything I say.”

“Keep talking and it's gonna fire off all by itself.” He was moaning now. “Please, Angie. Help me.”

His pleading expression would have swayed a much stronger woman than I'd ever claimed to be. “Pretty pushy for a boy toy, aren't you?” Scooting closer, I took his cock in my hand and coated my palm with the slick fluid pouring from the head. “I think I'll do it like this the first time. That way I'll be able to tell whether you can shoot straight.”

“
Anything.
Just do it.”

I'd never seen a man look quite so desperate before. Grinning hugely at the effect I seemed to have on him, I put a stranglehold on his swollen member at its base and pumped up and down on the shaft with my other hand. It took longer than I thought it would, but suddenly…

“Wow, Troy! Looks like your first job is going to be cleaning my windshield—along with the dashboard, headliner, seat, floor mat, and”—I aimed the last shot in a different direction—“my mouth.” Licking my lips, I swallowed. “Never mind, I took care of that one. And, yes, you shoot pretty straight. Quite a range too.”

His head had snapped back against the headrest as he came, his mouth flying open and his eyes rolling back in his head, but he still managed a smile. “I can do better if I'm not dehydrated.”

“Well, then…” Lowering the console, I reached between the seat backs and flipped up the lid on the cooler. Grabbing a bottle of water, I slapped it into his hand. “Drink up. If you don't mind my asking—although since you're my boy toy, I feel I have the right to know—what's your turnaround time?”

Twisting off the bottle cap, he shrugged. “I dunno…twenty minutes, maybe?”

At sixty miles an hour, that was twenty miles.

Damn.
Maybe there really
was
at least one man alive who could actually fuck all the way to Jackson Hole—and out of all the people who must have passed by him as he trudged along the highway, lucky me,
I
had been the one to pick him up. For the first time in my life, I had an idea of how that girl in the flatbed Ford might have felt—and it was a very nice feeling—just as I'd always known it would be.

“Sounds good.” I patted his bare thigh. “Put your pants on and we'll head for home.”

“How much farther did you say it was to the ranch?” He took a long swig from the bottle before pulling up his jeans. I'll admit to being slightly disappointed when he zipped his fly and buckled his belt. I could hardly wait for his rampant penis to escape again.

“About twenty minutes.”

With
two
fucks
when
we
get
there.

Funny how things never seem to work out quite the way we think they should. For one thing, Troy didn't clean my truck—well, maybe he did, but it only took a quick hit with a Kleenex to remove the evidence. With no one at the house to question where my stray cowboy had come from, all I had to do was show him in and direct him to the nearest shower. I helped him undress, of course, but a thorough examination of his feet only uncovered a few small blisters. This discovery, while fortunate for him, made my plan to keep him in the house for a few days unnecessary—which was
un
fortunate for me.

While he was in the shower, I made use of the time to fabricate a better story to explain his sudden appearance. Although he wouldn't have been the first cowboy to show up at the barn door looking for work, I figured I could say a friend had recommended him for a job while I was in town—perhaps even dropping him off at the ranch. That way there would be no need to explain why I'd picked him up on the highway. Whoever had driven by and honked must have assumed there was no one in the truck when I didn't wave back. If asked, I could always say I'd dropped something and pulled over to the side of the road to retrieve it.

At any rate, by the time Dad came back to the house, I was in the office discussing employment with a freshly showered and perfectly respectable cowboy. That I had stolen a few more kisses from him wouldn't have been obvious to anyone. I'd wanted to watch him in the shower—perhaps even help him out. Unfortunately, I had no idea when Dad might be back, so I figured it was best not to get caught with him right off the bat. Alas, I was forced to let him shower alone.

Sitting across the desk from Troy while we went over the paperwork was an exercise in self-restraint the likes of which I hadn't experienced in quite some time. Knowing what he had hidden in those jeans and what thoughts lurked behind those fabulous blue eyes was enough to make me want to leap over the desk and do
something
.

Since I wasn't going to pay him any more than what the other hands were paid when they hired on, no one could accuse me of paying for sex. I only wished we'd had the opportunity to go over the ground rules more thoroughly. Beyond deciding that sex would be a perk rather than a requirement, the precise terms of our verbal agreement were never discussed in detail. Although they probably would have been if Dad hadn't arrived when he did.

The back door slammed, instantly altering what I was about to say as Dad stomped down the hallway.

“Angela! Where the hell are you?”

“In the office,” I yelled back.

Dad had gotten a bit hard of hearing in recent years, which meant our conversations took place at a fairly high volume. Even though lengthy discussions tended to give me a sore throat, he refused to admit to that weakness. God forbid I should ever mention he might need a hearing aid. I had toyed with the idea of using flash cards to make my point but decided it would only tick him off, which happened often enough without any encouragement from me. Warning him that his high blood pressure was going to make his head explode someday wasn't a good idea, either. Especially since I was pretty sure he didn't take his meds like he was supposed to.

Dad's face was purple when he stormed into the office, proving that this was one of those days when he'd conveniently forgotten to take his pills. “Where the hell did that saddle and duffel—? Oh, I see, it must be his.” He glared at Troy. “Who the hell are you?”

“This is Troy Whitmore,” I explained. “He's looking for work. I thought he could fill in while Dusty's leg heals up.”

Dad's bushy white brows knit together as he peered at Troy, almost as though he might have been able to tell by looking at him that I'd had my hands on his—

“Looks too clean for a ranch hand,” he announced after a moment or two of careful scrutiny. “But I guess he'll do. Any good at roping?”

“Yes, sir,” Troy replied. “I don't miss very often.”

“Well, just don't get your leg broke doing it,” Dad advised. “How that damned Dusty managed to fall off his horse and break his leg beats the hell outta me.”

Dad's memory wasn't much better than his hearing. “The girth on his saddle broke, remember?”

Actually, it was a wonder Dusty hadn't broken more than his leg. In one incredibly spectacular fall, both he and the saddle had soared into the air only to slam into the corral fence upon landing. I'd been one of the witnesses and nearly came unglued when I saw how badly he'd been hurt. I had already hopped the fence and was running toward him when Rufus grabbed me and insisted that I go up to the house to call an ambulance, saying that Dusty would rather I didn't “coddle” him.

I doubted Dusty would have said anything of the kind. He was such a sweetheart, not to mention being my personal favorite among the hands, and I'll admit to having had a few fantasies about him. He'd never seemed anything other than friendly and respectful—although I did catch the occasional smile that might have meant something more. For the most part, I dismissed those smiles as a figment of my overactive imagination. Still, he was very nice to look at, and a woman can always dream, which was all I'd been able to do for quite some time.

At least until Troy showed up.

I cleared my throat. “I'm sure Troy will take good care of his tack.”

“See that you do,” Dad told Troy in a stern tone. “Too many accidents around here and no one will work for us anymore.”

“It's not
that
bad,” I protested. “There are always accidents on a ranch.” I certainly didn't want Dad scaring Troy off, even though we
had
seen more than our fair share of mishaps in recent months.

“I'll be very conscientious,” Troy promised. “I don't much care for trouble myself.”

The meaningful glance he gave me from beneath his thick, dark lashes told me he would be very careful about more than the condition of his saddle. I had no desire to watch him fly through the air the way Dusty had, nor did I want Dad ripping his balls off if he caught us together.

The fact that I didn't subscribe to my father's antiquated notions of propriety didn't count for much as long as I lived under his roof. No doubt he was the reason none of the hands ever so much as tapped me on the shoulder, which was probably why I'd been so willing to be comforted by a stranger. Granted, Troy was nice and sweet and handsome, but I'd also been alone when I met him. We hadn't been introduced under the watchful eye of my father—or Rufus.

Rufus was almost as bad as Dad, and though he'd been very supportive after Cody died, he hadn't exactly encouraged me to go out and find another husband. I sometimes wondered if he wasn't interested in taking on the task himself. Although if he was, he was being damned subtle about it. Or maybe he'd needed two years to come up with the idea.

It made me feel
so
attractive to think it would take a man
years
to realize that if he could only stomach being married to me, he might actually inherit the ranch one day. I'd pretty much decided none of the men of my acquaintance wanted the responsibility of a ranch. Surely I wasn't
that
hard to take. Cody had never complained about the way I looked, but he'd actually loved me. I'd come to believe that bit about love being blind really was true. In which case, the rest of the men in the world all had perfect vision.

On the other hand, I didn't need to be blindly in love to be attracted to a man like Troy. Even someone who hated him would have to admit he was gorgeous. My only hope was that I wasn't getting into something I might regret.

“Trouble is something we try to avoid too,” I told Troy. “You won't be any trouble, will you?” For my father's benefit, I made it sound as though I meant fighting or getting drunk or stealing cattle.

Troy obviously knew exactly what I meant because another of his smiles nearly blinded me. “I'll be good, ma'am. I won't cause you any problems. I can promise you won't regret giving me a job. I'll give you my best.”

I'm sure he sounded very impressive to Dad, but he impressed me even more since I knew what he was actually talking about. No regrets and no trouble. Only his best.

Oh
yeah…

“That's good enough for me.” Dad held out his hand. “I'm Jack Kincaid. Welcome to the Circle Bar K. I presume you and Angela have already introduced yourselves.”

Troy aimed a subtle wink in my direction as he shook my father's hand. “Yeah, we've met. Thanks for the welcome, Mr. Kincaid. I'm sure I'll be happy here.”

“Okay, then,” I said with a nod. “If you'll gather up your gear, I'll show you to the bunkhouse.”

Unfortunately, I was already dreading the time when he would leave our employ. The job was, after all, a temporary one. In a few weeks, Dusty would be back to a full workload and we wouldn't need Troy anymore. At least, not as a ranch hand.

What if I fell in love with him before he went on his merry way? What then? I'd have to get over losing another one.

Shit.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Already, the thought of watching him ride off into the sunset was making me sick. How on earth would I feel when it actually happened?

My regrets must've shown in my face because Troy asked me about it on the way to the bunkhouse.

“Are you sure you're okay with this? You looked like you were having second thoughts back there.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “I was just thinking about this job being temporary—about how I might feel when you leave.”

A grimace marred his perfect features. “A week from now, you might
feel
like kicking me out. Did you ever think of that?”

“No,” I replied. “That was just about the last thing on my mind.”

What was actually running through my head was Kix Brooks singing about how I'd better kiss him because I was gonna miss him when he was gone. I was pretty sure I'd miss Troy—even if he made me mad enough to throw him out—because I was
already
missing him, and we'd only known each other for a few hours.

We crossed the driveway and started toward the stable yard in silence, and during that time I came to the conclusion that it might be best to let him off the hook. If our affair never got started, I wouldn't miss it so much when it was over.

“It might be tough for us to, um, get together,” I began. “I won't hold you to that boy toy thing. It was a silly idea, anyway.”

“You mean you don't even want me to try?” I thought he might've sounded sort of disappointed, but it was hard to tell.

“I don't know, Troy. It seemed like such fun when we talked about it on the drive home. But now…” I shrugged. “You know how it is—everything changes in the cold, clear light of day. What with Dad living here and so many other people around, it might not be as easy as we thought. I certainly don't want you catching any flack over it.”

“Wouldn't be first time I'd taken a little heat.”

“Maybe not.” I stopped as we neared the corral, chewing my thumbnail as I focused my thoughts. “Tell you what. I'll leave it up to you to decide what you want to do. It's your call. I honestly don't expect anything, and I'll understand if you figure it's not a good idea. Like I said, it has nothing to do with whether you work for us. That wouldn't be right. Do you know what I'm saying?”

“Yeah. You don't want to end up getting accused of sexual harassment.” Tipping up the brim of his hat, he aimed that mesmerizing blue-eyed gaze at me. “I wouldn't do that, Angie. Honest, I wouldn't.”

“It isn't so much the accusation as the feeling guilty—not to mention wondering how I could have sunk so low that I—” I broke off there, reluctant to put my painful thoughts into words.

“—was willing to pay for it?”

I nodded in reply—which was all I could do at the time because tears threatened to overcome me if I said anything more.

“Imagine how it would feel to be the one getting paid,” he said. “Which, by the way, you are
not
doing. You aren't paying me any extra, and I have to work for my wages just like the other guys. You are
not
hiring a prostitute, so you can get that idea out of your pretty little head right now.”

Pretty
little
head.
Did anyone actually
mean
that when they said it, or was it only a figure of speech?

I believe I nodded or smiled or something. Whatever I did, Troy must've taken it as acknowledgment because he kept right on talking.

“If I do anything it's because I
want
to. Nothing more. No gratitude for picking me up or giving me a job or anything like that. It's a free country, and you're fair game—and pretty enough not to have to coerce someone into paying you some attention. I don't understand why there hasn't been someone else before now. It seems sort of…unnatural. You're as lovable as anyone, Angie. You had me so hot back there in the truck I thought I was gonna spontaneously combust. But it left me wanting more—and believe me, I'm gonna take all I can get. You just be ready for me.”