It’s amazing how lost in thought I can become when the right subject steals my attention. Cody used to accuse me of daydreaming—and he was right—although he usually benefited from my woolgathering. Over the years, I’d come up with some pretty wild stuff while my mind was elsewhere, things from which he seemed to derive tremendous enjoyment, so he probably shouldn’t have complained.
Dear, sweet, sexy Cody. I missed him more with each passing day. My hitchhiking cowboy could have no idea that such thoughts ever crossed my mind. I knew for a fact that my imaginings never showed themselves in my face, which meant that he could have no inkling that I might actually want to live out that fantasy. If he did, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have wanted to drive another yard with me.
I thought about all the cowboys—some quite young, some older, some cute and some not—who had worked for us on the ranch over the years, none of whom had shown the slightest romantic or sexual interest in me, either before or after Cody died. Not even the foreman, who was nearly sixty and was still a rather attractive man, seemed to consider me to be a female worth pursuing. To him, I was nothing more than a silly little woman who needed to be kept out of trouble.
Rufus had worked for us for a long time and had been a good foreman. Neither I nor my father—or Cody, for that matter—ever had any complaints about the way he managed the ranch, even though he’d always seemed to be somewhat lacking in personality. Far from being interested in me in the romantic sense, he seemed to disapprove of me. He was always considerate and respectful, but I couldn’t help feeling there was something about me he didn’t like. I could almost see it in his eyes.
Cody must not have told any of the other men about the fun things we’d indulged in while we were alone, for none of them had ever stepped forward to take his place. Dad had made no secret of the fact that he thought my marrying Rufus might not be a bad idea, but it didn’t look as though there was much chance of that ever happening. Besides, I didn’t love Rufus, and he sure as hell didn’t love me.
Cody had spoiled me. I knew what a marriage could be like with the right man, and I wasn’t about to settle for anything less. I had my memories and my fantasies, and for the rest, well, let’s just say I wasn’t willing to compromise. After Cody’s death, my friends had told me I couldn’t afford to be choosy—especially at my age—but we weren’t talking about their lives. This was my life and my decision. Just as it had been my decision to pick up a startlingly handsome cowboy who had gotten my mind working along erotic lines again, much the way Cody had when I’d first laid eyes on him as a junior in high school.
I glanced over at the cowboy, noting his anxious, wide-eyed expression. No doubt he expected that someone who could withdraw so completely wouldn’t be able to drive safely, but it had never been a problem for me, and it helped to pass the time I spent on the road.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking about something else. Jackson Hole is about two hundred miles from here.” With a fuck every twenty miles and two more when we got there, that made twelve times he would have to get it up. I doubted there was a man alive who could actually do that.
So much for fantasy.
He blew out a pent-up breath. “I was afraid of that. Like I said, I was asleep—I had no idea where I was when I started walking. I’m not sure I can walk that far.”
“Not in those boots, anyway,” I agreed. “Not made for walking, are they?”
With a rueful shake of his head, he glanced toward his boots, then back at me. “Not at all. I’ve probably got blisters on top of blisters by now. Would you mind if I took them off?”
No, dear, you can take off anything you like, starting with your boots and working up to your hat. The mere thought made my nipples tingle.
“No,” I said aloud. “But I should warn you we’re almost to the point where I have to let you out.”
He swore softly under his breath. “I was afraid of that, too.” He looked so miserable at the prospect of getting out and walking again that I had to think of something, some other alternative we hadn’t considered yet—or maybe I had, somewhere in the midst of my fantasy.
“Tell you what,” I said, doing my best to sound as though I were doing him a bigger favor than he would be doing for me. “Let me take you back to the ranch. You can rest for a while—take a shower, even spend the night if you like. Then you can call someone to come and get you. You must have some friends on the rodeo circuit who would do that for you.”
“I guess I could.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. I had to turn away from him for a moment as another wave of desire washed over me.
No, I wasn’t the one doing him any favors. The pleasure of his company would be all mine, and if he couldn’t find anyone else to give him a ride, I would do it myself. I just wouldn’t do it today—after all, I had supplies in the truck that were needed at home, and I’d have to at least unload them before I could make a run into Jackson Hole. It would, at the very earliest, be ten or so the next morning before I could start out.
In the meantime, I could wash him, feed him, and tuck him into bed.
Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be my bed he slept in—it would be one of my sons’, or more likely a bed in the bunkhouse—but, hey, it was better than nothing.
“If you can’t get a ride, I’ll take you there tomorrow myself. Would that be too late?”
“Oh, no,” he replied. “I just need to get there before the weekend. I don’t know where I’ll go after that. Maybe I can ride with some other guys. The trouble is I don’t have a horse.”
That could be a problem for a cowboy if he happened to be more into calf-roping and steer wrestling than he was bronc or bull riding. I glanced pointedly down at the belt buckle—noting that it was indeed a calf-roping medal.
“You’d be handy at the ranch,” I said with a nod at the buckle. “Our guys are all pretty good, but they’ve never won any competitions.” Of course, a working ranch hand was better all-around than most rodeo cowboys. There wasn’t much call for bull riding on a ranch, but roping required skill and practice as well as talent—and it was useful.
Tipping his head to one side, he studied me carefully. “Are you offering me a job?”
This was an even better excuse to keep him around, although if he worked for me, I’d be in continuous heat for the duration of his employment. I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands off him. As it was, my palms were itching for a chance to touch him. I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. “Maybe. We’re short a man right now. One of the guys has a broken leg and can’t do very much. It would only be temporary, but—”
“If you could give me a day or so for my feet to heal, I accept.” He said it so quickly I had to wonder just how much money he actually had stuffed in those jeans, if any. “Besides, I think I’d like working for you. I feel like I owe you something.”
Damn. I really was looking forward to that ride to Jackson Hole. With a fuck every twenty miles, it might turn out to be the high point of my life. Then I remembered he’d never promised me anything of the kind. That particular offer was merely a figment of my horny little imagination.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I assured him. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. In fact, you already have.”
“How’s that? I haven’t done anything for you at all.”
His quizzical expression nearly made me laugh out loud. “Oh, yes you have. Trust me on this one.”
I seriously doubted he understood what I meant by that, but he nodded as though he did. “How far did you say it was?”
“About another ten miles.” With two fucks at the end of the road, I added silently. Now, if only that were true…
“I’ll keep my boots on, then,” he said. “I might not be able to get them back on if I take them off.”
“Your feet might swell up,” I agreed, thinking that I’d like to see that third leg of his swell up a little. I chuckled to myself. Men really had no idea what women were thinking about most of the time, which was probably a good thing. My adorable cowboy would have run all the way to Jackson Hole if he’d known what had been going on in my head.
I realized then that I didn’t even know his name. “By the way, my name is Angela McClure. If you’re going to get a paycheck from me, you’d better tell me yours.”
“Troy.” He leaned forward and held out his hand. “Troy Whitmore.”
I placed my hand in his warm, firm grasp and was instantly lost. When he grinned, I nearly drove the truck into the cottonwood tree as I tried to take the turn too fast. Momentarily blinded by his smile, I’d almost missed it.
His response to sliding off the seat and onto the floorboards of the truck was to laugh. I liked that he could find the humor in that small accident, rather than cussing a blue streak as so many men would have done—not to mention the fact that his laughter sent a rush of tingles racing up and down my spine.
No doubt I would regret my impulsiveness eventually—tomorrow perhaps, or maybe even for the rest of my life.
But not today.
Troy didn’t have to know what I was thinking about, and if I didn’t tell him, he never would. It would remain my dirty little secret. Besides, I wouldn’t have to keep that secret for long. Dusty’s leg wouldn’t take more than a couple of months to heal, and in the meantime I could certainly enjoy my eye-candy cowboy.
“Guess I should be more careful. I don’t need two cowboys with broken legs.” Bringing the truck to a stop, I reached over to help him up. “Then again, you should’ve been wearing a seat belt, young man.” My firm, scolding tone was one sure way not to entice him into my bed. I might’ve been talking to one of my kids.
He shook his head. “I’ve had worse falls off a horse. That was nothing.”
“Put your seat belt on anyway,” I advised. “It gets pretty bumpy from here on. I try to avoid the potholes, but there are so many, I can’t miss them all. I was twelve years old the last time this road was actually paved, rather than patched. You’d think with all the property taxes we pay they could do better than that, but I’ve gone way past the point of expecting miracles.” A freshly paved road truly would be a miracle. Right up there with hell freezing over and handsome cowboys letting me suck them off.
Troy fastened his safety belt without protest and eyed me expectantly. His expression was so innocent, I nearly laughed again. By this time, if he’d had any idea what I’d been thinking, he would have been in a state of sheer panic.
I hesitated before continuing down the road. “You’re sure about this? Ever work on a ranch before?”
“I grew up on a ranch,” he replied with a nod. “I know it’s not as glamorous as the rodeo, but I think I can handle it.”
“I hope so.”
For more reasons than one.