Going Cowboy Crazy (6 page)

A snap popped open.

Intrigued, Faith tugged harder.
Pop—pop—pop
. The
rest of the snaps came apart. Hesitantly, she slipped her hand inside the opening, trailing her fingers down the deep hollow between his rib cage, over the rippled muscles of his stomach and back up. His skin was smooth and hot, his muscles tight and hard—his textures so vibrantly male they made her tremble. She slid her hand over the well-developed swell of his pectoral, cupped its sculptured perfection, then brushed a thumb over the tiny nipple.

A deep growl rumbled up in his throat, and he jerked the shirt off his shoulders to reveal what only her touch had known—ripples of hard muscle cast in the deep blues of twilight. As her gaze clung to the exposed skin, he reached down and released her seat belt, enfolding her in his waiting arms.

“Better,” Slate breathed as he settled back against the seat and pulled her onto his lap.

It seemed like an eternity since she’d been held by a man. She turned her head and burrowed into the spot where neck met collarbone, breathing in the scent of him. Smoke and soap collided with the strong foreign smells that wafted in through the open window, and unable to stop herself, she swept her tongue over his salty skin.

“Jesus, Faith.” His lips brushed the top of her head as she gently sucked. “You’re killin’ me, darlin’.”

The passion-thickened
darlin
’ made her stomach flutter, and her mouth went slack as his hand skated up her thigh and two fingers slipped between her legs. She’d been sexually active with two of her boyfriends, but not one had the ability to take her from steamy to sizzling in only two strokes. This redneck seemed to know exactly what to do and where to do it. He brushed and strummed over the wool of her pants until her head dropped back
on his shoulder and her breath pumped in and out of her lungs. Until her hips flexed against the hard knot of his fly and her legs dropped open in invitation.

An invitation he quickly accepted. Before a moan could work its way up her throat, her pants and panties were off, and she was lying on her back on the cool truck seat with her high heels hiked up on either side of the man who knelt between her legs. A tiny flicker of panic wiggled past the mental exhaustion and shots of tequila, but was quickly snuffed out when she lifted her gaze.

Kneeling before her, Slate was every woman’s cowboy fantasy all rolled up in one: James Dean’s swaggering sex appeal in
Giant—
Robert Redford’s squinty-eyed toughness in
Sundance—
Brad Pitt’s ripped boyish charm in
Thelma and Louise
. As an awkward adolescent who was allowed only two hours of television viewing a week, Faith had easily fallen prey to these sexy silver-screen studs and whiled away many hours fantasizing about them.

Which was probably why she was in no hurry to stop the scene that played out before her. It had all the markings of a really great daydream. This wasn’t reality. At least, not any reality she’d ever experienced. So she relaxed back against the cool leather seat and allowed her gaze to slither over the well-defined shoulders, the hard sculptured chest, and the flat, lean stomach.

Tipping his slim hips forward, he reached for the button on the fly of his worn jeans. All the moisture left her mouth as the gold teeth of the zipper eased apart to reveal something that looked an awful lot like naked skin. But before she could get her mind around the fact that her sexy stud didn’t wear underwear, bright lights flashed across the back window.

“Shit.” Slate’s head ducked down next to her.

“What? Ohmygod! Is it the cops?” Faith struggled beneath him, her legs flailing. The toe of one heel hit the steering wheel, and the horn blasted. Slate jumped up and bumped his shoulder on the gun rack at the same time that she pulled her foot back and dug her spiked heel into his side.

“Sonofabitch!”

“Sorry.” She jerked her foot back, only to honk the horn again, but this time he grabbed the heel before she could pull it back and knife something a little more sensitive than his side.

Feeling completely exposed to his gaze, she struggled to sit up, but it was difficult when his body was between her legs and her foot was in his hand.

“Sit still,” he ordered as he jerked her deadly shoe off and dropped it to the floor.

She flopped back down and glared up at him. He didn’t look so gorgeous now. In the light from the oncoming car, he looked mean and surly.

“Sit still?” she fumed. “I’m half naked.”

His gaze traveled over her lower body as he zipped and buttoned his jeans. “I can see that, but if you’ll sit still a minute, nobody else will.”

For some reason, she trusted him. Probably because she didn’t have much of a choice. Stretching her sweater down, she made a vain attempt to cover herself as he jerked on his shirt. He left it open and slipped back over to the driver’s side, pulling her legs across his lap just as the lights grew brighter. In a cacophony of rumbling engine and blaring country music, the vehicle pulled up next to them.

“Hey, Bubba!”

Slate cringed slightly before he leaned out the window. “Did you need something, Billy Ray?”

“Coach?” The boy’s voice hit a high note and was followed with another boy’s “shit.”

“What are you boys doing out here?” Slate’s deep authoritative tone surprised Faith. Probably because she’d already pegged him as a good old boy—a friendly cowboy with a killer smile who teased everyone he met. Although in the last few seconds, he hadn’t been so friendly.

“Nothin’, Coach. We was just gonna sit and talk.”

“You know the rules during the season. Curfew’s eight on the weeknights, ten on the weekends. No drinkin’ and no dates. Now you get those girls home before their mamas call Sheriff Winslow, and I decide to bench you the next game.”

“Right, Coach. Sorry.”

The vehicle left in a shower of gravel, the music fading in the distance.

Once they were gone, the awkwardness set in.

But it was hard not to feel awkward when you were half naked, with your legs sprawled all over a man’s lap. A complete stranger, no less. She tried to scramble up to a sitting position, but his hands slid up her thighs, trailing a line of fire that took her breath away.

“Hey, now.” The grinning cowboy was back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I really—” Faith squeaked and grabbed his hands in an attempt to stop the marauding fingers from getting any closer to the needy pulse between her legs. “I-I really need to get back to my car.”

His fingers froze against the tops of her thighs, and
there was a long, uncomfortable silence as he stared down at her. Thankfully, it was now dark enough that she couldn’t see his eyes. Those hazel peepers had some weird mind-altering effect on her.

“Excuse me?”

She swallowed. “I need to go.”

He removed his hands and shifted around in the seat. “You’re kidding?”

Refusing to look at him, she sat up. “Actually, no. I’m sorry, but…” She jerked her pants up from the floor and tried to locate her panties. “This was a mistake. I-I don’t even know you—I mean, I know who you are, but I don’t really know you… personally.”

Slate reached up and unhooked her panties from the rearview mirror. “And I was about to remedy that, darlin’.”

Her face heated up as she pulled the cotton panties from his hand. Now that she’d found her clothes, she couldn’t bring herself to put them on. Not when he watched her every move. So instead she held them over her lap and proceeded to do what she always did when she got nervous.

Ramble.

“Yes, well… I’ve got this goal to find my sister, and only a few weeks to do it in, and I really can’t be distracted by a good-looking cowboy who kisses really great. I need to stay focused until I find her. Then after I find her, I need to get back to my life in Chicago because with my mother’s illness and the funeral and this trip, I don’t think my boss is exactly thrilled by my productivity—and everyone knows how competitive technology is. And besides work, I need to sell my parents’ house. And I just
bought a new condo that still isn’t decorated—so getting involved with someone right now would be really stupid.” She turned to him. “I’m sure you can understand.”

“I’m not sure I can, darlin’. But I liked the part about a good-looking cowboy who’s a great kisser.”

“Oh.” Faith really liked that part, too, which made it hard to get the next words out. “I need for you to take me back to my car… please.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He studied her for a few seconds more before he opened the door and the cab filled with harsh light.

She gripped her pants tighter. “What are you doing?”

“I need a little air, sweetheart.” Slate lifted his eyebrows at her. “I don’t exactly cool down as fast as you do.”

Her gaze dropped down to the bulge in his blue jeans, then quickly back up to the smile that tipped one side of his mouth. If her face got any hotter, it would incinerate.

Faith watched as he jumped down and closed the door, then waited until his shadowy form disappeared into the darkness before she slipped on her panties and pants. She found her purse on the floor and searched through it for anything that might improve her appearance before he got back. It wasn’t hard to locate her brush, or her peach-scented hand lotion, or the small square container of dental floss. But after brushing, flossing, and moisturizing, she couldn’t find her tube of lip gloss.

It wasn’t a big deal. Up until this afternoon, she’d never concerned herself with makeup. Just a few swipes of mascara and a neutral-colored matte lipstick would do her. But for some reason, the gloss had become more than just makeup. She wasn’t sure what; all she knew was she wanted it on before Slate returned.

She had to click on the overhead light before she discovered it in one of the side pockets. Looking for a mirror to apply it with, she flipped down the visor, but all she found were two ticket stubs to an Alan Jackson concert and a condom. The condom was like a cold, hard slap of reality. She’d almost had sex with a complete stranger. A man she had known for only two hours. Three tops. A man who owned so many guns he needed a rack for them. Bragged about his penis size. And kept an extra large condom in his visor.

An arrogant redneck.

Her aunt Jillian would be horrified. And her mother was probably turning over in her grave, along with her dear old dad. And none of her friends at work would believe it.

Not Faith. Not sweet, rule-abiding Faith.

She screamed.

Not because she was so upset about what she’d done, but because Buster had returned and jumped up on the truck, his large front paws curved over the bottom edge of Slate’s open window. Blood dripped from his woolly muzzle.

“What the hell?!” Slate came charging around the front of the truck with his open shirt flapping.

“It’s Buster!” She jerked out the small package of disinfectant wipes she never left home without and pulled out three. “Something attacked him!” Sliding across the seat, she grabbed the dog’s head and stuffed the wipes into his mouth, searching for the source of the blood so she could apply pressure. But the dog jerked his head loose and hopped down, cowering behind Slate’s legs.

“For the love of Pete.” Slate took the wipes out of her
hand and tossed them into the bed of the truck. “Buster didn’t get attacked, he attacked something. More than likely a prairie dog.”

“A prairie dog?” She looked down at Buster, who was now pawing his nose. “Do you think the prairie dog is badly hurt? Maybe we should call someone.”

“Like who? The Prairie Dog Ambulance?” He walked to the back of the truck and pulled the tailgate down so Buster could hop in. By the time he jerked open the door, the grin was back.

“You’re sure a worryin’ little thing.”

Faith slid back over to her side of the seat as he climbed inside. The awkwardness was back, so she busied herself closing the wipes container and putting it in her purse. But when he didn’t start the engine, she glanced over at him.

His eyes twinkled in the overhead light. “You sure you don’t want to get to know me personally?”

Nodding her head was harder than she thought it would be.

“All right then.” The smile faded as he leaned forward to start the truck. “But if you’re ever in Bramble again, be sure to look me up.”

His words brought with them a sense of deep regret. With Hope in Hollywood, there would be no reason to return to Bramble. Which meant Faith would probably never again view the world from the high perch of a monster truck. Or do a nasty shot. Or watch a West Texas sunset paint the skies in vibrant shades. Or kiss a redneck with sparkling hazel eyes.

It was sad.

S
EXUAL ATTRACTION WAS A FUNNY THING,
Slate thought as he drove back to town. He had been around Hope for close to twelve years before she moved away and not once in that time had he wanted to have sex with her. Not even the couple months they’d dated in high school. Yet here was a woman who looked exactly like Hope, and he was so sexually attracted to her, he felt like he had the time that he ran a hundred and four temperature—all shaky and disoriented.

It was the darnedest thing. And hell if he could figure it out.

Damn Billy Ray. The kid was going to run at least twenty laps for his inopportune timing.