Going Cowboy Crazy (24 page)

“Nice truck,” she commented. “Is it yours? Or just another borrowed vehicle?”

Slate shot her a grin, and she smiled back before she could stop herself. “Mine. Why, are you missing Bubba’s?” He glanced down at the console. “I sure am.”

It wasn’t right that she should be so pleased that his thoughts ran along the same lines as hers. It wasn’t right, but it was true. For the last week, she’d been miserable. Now suddenly she didn’t feel miserable at all. She felt… giddy. And she had no right to feel giddy with a man who
hadn’t been truthful about his relationship with her sister. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to help it. Which was why she’d only shown token resistance when he wanted to take her back to Shirlene’s.

“You were a little tough with Austin, don’t you think?” Faith tugged his jacket closer around her, enjoying the deep, rich smell of man and spicy cologne.

“Tough? The kid didn’t exactly make it easy.”

She laughed at the thought of Austin staring down Slate. “He was just trying to make sure I wanted to go with you.”

“I guess he had a right to be concerned. You didn’t look exactly overjoyed with the prospect.”

“I’m not,” she sniffed. “But I made a deal. So the sooner we get it over with, the better.” She turned to him. “So talk.”

He shot a glance over at her. “Here?”

“You have a better idea? It’s a good ten minutes before we get to Shirlene’s.”

“Ten minutes!” He stared at her in disbelief. “Not likely. I didn’t give that belligerent kid a second chance for ten lousy minutes.”

She crossed her arms beneath the jacket. “You didn’t specify how long the conversation needed to be, and Austin isn’t belligerent. He’s just scared.”

“Scared? Yeah, like a cornered badger.”

“Fine. How long did you want to talk? Fifteen? Twenty? If the bathroom at Bootlegger’s was any example, you don’t seem to have a whole lot to say.”

His gaze sizzled down her body. “I got sidetracked at Bootlegger’s.”

Faith tightened her arms and tried to control the
tremble that welled up inside her. “Okay, so where did you want to talk?”

In the red glow from the dash instruments, his eyes gleamed devilishly. “Sutter Springs?”

“Not a chance.”

Slate nodded. “I guess you’re right. With this damned console, it wouldn’t be any fun anyway.” He flipped on the blinker and turned off on a small paved road. It wasn’t the road to Sutter Springs but it looked as secluded.

“So you mind telling me where you’re taking me?”

“My house.”

“Let me guess, you’re building a mansion bigger than Shirlene’s.”

He laughed. “Not even close.”

Slate’s house
wasn’t
even close to being as big as Shirlene’s. But, to Faith, the southwestern ranch-style home they pulled up to was much prettier. Its smooth sand-colored walls and flagstone accents blended perfectly with the mesquite, cedar, and sage-filled landscape, giving it a homeyness that Shirlene’s big mansion lacked.

“I’ve got a lot of work left to do,” Slate said, his voice suddenly hesitant as the headlights shone on the small courtyard that led to the double doors. “Of course, with football season in full swing, I haven’t had a chance to do much. But once the play-offs are over, I plan on spending every weekend working on it.”

“You built this?” Faith knew Slate was building a house, but she had assumed he’d hired professional builders to do the actual work.

It was too dark in the car to tell for sure, but she could’ve sworn he blushed before he ducked his head away. “Well, I had a lot of help from Kenny and a few of the guys.”

Shy uncertainty was so unlike Slate that she couldn’t help but be completely honest. “It’s beautiful.”

His gaze snapped over to her. “You want to see the inside?”

Faith wasn’t sure it was such a good idea—the console was a security blanket she wasn’t ready to give up—but his sudden vulnerability caused her to ignore the warning. “I’d love to.”

Before she could remove her seat belt, he’d grabbed a flashlight and was on her side of the truck. He helped her out, his hand on her elbow as she wobbled across the uneven ground in her heels. It seemed there were certain benefits to dating an older, more experienced man. Austin had left the door opening to her. Of course, the poor kid had been a nervous wreck for most of the night, no doubt wondering why an older woman had asked him to the dance.

“Watch your step. I still need to clean up a little bit.” Slate led her along the flagstone path and under the archway of the courtyard.

The double doors had no hardware, and it took only a shove to get one open. The inside was more unfinished than the outside. The beam of Slate’s flashlight swept over sawdust-covered cement floors and exposed insulation and electrical wires.

“As you can see I’ve got a ways to go.” He highlighted the different accents in the room. “Kiva fireplace.” He flashed the light up. “Tongue-and-groove ceiling.” He guided her toward the kitchen that had light wood cabinets but no appliances or countertops.

“Bar.” Slate waved the light at a large piece of plywood on top of the cabinets between the living space and the
kitchen before tracking it over to the center of the floor. “An island will be here with countertop burners.”

“Gas or electric?”

“I was thinking the electric kind with the smooth glass top. What do you think?”

“Electric’s okay, but most people who love to cook prefer gas.”

“Do you like to cook?”

“Yes. Although I haven’t done a lot of it in the last few years. I’ve been too busy working.”

There was a long pause. “Funny,” he said. “But I don’t even know what you do.”

She smiled and moved over to the large window. “I’m a programmer for a computer software registration company.”

Slate set the flashlight down in an exposed cabinet drawer, the beam aimed at the ceiling. “That’s something I couldn’t do—sit behind a computer all day. Do you like it?”

“No.” It was a truth she’d shared with few people.

“All the time or only occasionally?”

“All the time.” Faith looked out at the night sky with its blanket of stars. “My parents thought computer programming would be a good career.”

“And what did you think?”

“I wanted to be a teacher.”

“But weren’t your parents teachers? I would think they’d have wanted you to follow in their footsteps.”

She shrugged. “You’re right; they probably would’ve been just as happy if I’d told them I wanted to teach.”

“It’s not too late, you know.” His voice held a seriousness she rarely heard. “You could still be a teacher.”

“Who knows; maybe I’ll look into it when I get back.”

“After California?”

“Yes. After that.”

“So did you get Hope’s address?”

She heaved a sigh. “No, but hopefully I’ll get it tomorrow when she calls Jenna. Of course, even if I find out where she lives, I won’t be going anywhere without a car.”

Suddenly he was right behind her, his face and broad shoulders reflected in the glass. “Yes you will. If Winslow doesn’t return your car, you can take my truck.”

The offer surprised her, and she turned around. He was too close for comfort. With the window behind her and the cabinets on either side, there was nowhere to go. So she hugged the jacket closer and stared at the second button of his shirt.

“Yours or Bubba’s?”

He laughed. “Mine. I don’t want to be responsible for any hit-and-runs on the way.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, but refused to look up.

“Look, Faith, there are some things I need to explain.” Slate released a low sigh, and his breath brushed over her face, sweetly scented with alcohol. “Things I should’ve cleared up a long time ago.”

“There’s nothing to clear up, Slate.” She swallowed. “I made a mistake, and I don’t intend to repeat it.”

“A mistake? I didn’t see it that way.”

“That’s because I’ve never been in a relationship with one of your family members.”

“Okay.” Slate stepped back to lean on the edge of a counter. “Let’s get this straight once and for all. Hope and I were never in a relationship. Yes, we hung out together in high school, but so did a lot of kids. That’s how a small
town works—everyone hangs out with everyone else. And I guess people got used to seeing us together so they just assumed we were a couple.”

Faith desperately wanted to believe him, but there were too many things that didn’t add up. “But you dated… kissed.”

“Yes, we dated, if that’s what you could call it.” He looked away. “And every couple months we’d try it again. I guess we both wanted to see if there were any feelings between us. But it never went further than a few kisses, and we never wanted it to.”

“So why does the town still think you’re a couple?”

“Probably because neither one of us ever set them straight.” He paused before he continued. “Actually, I was the one that never set them straight. I liked having an invisible girlfriend, someone I could pull out when other women got too close.”

Confused, she stared at him. “So you had other relationships?”

A grin tipped the corners of his mouth. “Do you want a number, darlin’?”

“No,” Faith blurted out. “I just wondered how they could go on thinking you were together if you both dated other people.”

“How can they still think you’re Hope? It’s just a bizarre phenomenon of the small-town psyche.”

Even in the dimly lit room, she could read the truth in his hazel eyes. While she felt relief, she also felt scared. And she wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t been scared of him a week ago. Of course, a week ago, he’d been nothing more than a handsome stranger who had appeared in her life at a time when she wanted to rebel—someone she could live out her fantasies with and never see again.

But now, he was no longer a stranger. He was Slate Calhoun, a handsome cowboy with a ready smile and kind word for everyone he met. A bigger-than-life football hero who loved country music, his dog, and the people of his town. A man who had invaded her thoughts and her dreams, and who could so easily end up breaking her heart when it came time to leave.

Which was probably why it had been better when Hope was between them. Without Hope as an excuse, her heart was too exposed. Too vulnerable.

A blast of static broke the silence, and she turned to discover Slate bent over a radio that sat on a piece of plywood. He dialed through the stations until he landed on a slow country ballad, then adjusted the volume to a soft but audible level before he turned to her and held out a hand.

“Can I have this dance?” he asked. She started to shake her head, but he stopped her. “Just a dance, Faith.”

“I don’t think—”

He reached over and clicked the flashlight off, plunging the room into darkness.

“Come on.” His voice was too close. “I have to be better than a young whelp.” Slate slipped the jacket off her shoulders and set it down on the plywood.

She shivered, but not from the cold, as he stepped closer and encircled her waist with one hand while the other linked their fingers.

Faith had never been much of a dancer, probably because the men she’d dated preferred quiet dinners and nonparticipatory activities—the opera, ballet, or movies—to activities that involved physical skill. So the line dancing at Bootlegger’s and the silliness with Austin had been the first time she’d danced in years. Which
would explain her stiff limbs and awkwardness. What it didn’t explain was the wild knocking of her heart or the heat that infused her body when Slate’s hips casually brushed against her.

“Relax,” he whispered. “I won’t try anything too complicated.”

Slate stayed true to his word, barely lifting his feet off the floor as he moved in a slow circle to the song that played softly in the background. Trying to keep some space between her and the pressed cotton of his shirt, Faith’s body remained rigid as her feet shuffled next to his.

“I missed you.” His breath tickled the top of her ear.

It didn’t seem right that such simple words could cause such havoc in her mind and body. Her heart seized up, and her knees felt like they could give out at any second, as one part of her brain tried to rationalize while the other held on to the words like a lifeline.

“I know it’s crazy,” he said as he dipped his head closer. “Especially since we’ve only known each other for a week, but I can’t seem to help it.” His hand slipped from hers and joined the other one at her waist, pulling her so close there wasn’t more than a whisper of space between them. “I can’t seem to control this need I have to be with you….” His lips brushed her earlobe, and her world tipped dangerously. “To touch you.”

“Slate,” she breathed as her head dropped back. “We can’t do this.”

“Do what?” He kissed a fiery path down her neck.

“This.” Faith tried to push him away, but it was a weak effort.

“Dancing?” He opened his mouth and sucked in the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, sending goose
bumps skittering over her skin. “Because that’s all we’re doing, darlin’.” He breathed on the wet spot. “Just a little dancing in the dark.”