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A silver underbelly flashed beneath the surface of the stream. Carter’s rod dipped then straightened as the elusive trout slipped free. Undaunted, he reeled in his line and recast, clearly determined to turn their evening meal into a surf and turf.
Allie gave a contented sigh and took another sip of coffee. There were no worries about food on this camping trip. Carter had made sure their glamping tent was stocked with all the best things, including steak, coffee and marshmallows. He’d even remembered to include her favorite trail bars. She couldn’t wait to slip into the luxurious bed with the fluffy comforter and feather pillows. The tent was better appointed than most hotel rooms.
Not that she’d been in many five-star hotels. At least not until last fall when Carter, sponsored by the Mustang River Ranch, had roared back onto the circuit with a small but enthusiastic contingent of co-workers cheering him on. Allie and Nikki had even competed in the novice roping with their coaches, Carter and Kate, filling them with just the right amount of confidence. Allie loved everything about the rodeo, from the corn dogs and camaraderie to the cool clothes. But she especially loved the light it put in Carter’s eyes, and the passion it injected into their nights.
It had taken some juggling to find time to return to the backwoods. But this spring weekend was perfect. The only thing that would make the afternoon any better would be if Carter took off his shirt.
“It’s a little hot, isn’t it,” she called.
He smiled over his shoulder, his lazy grin making her melt. “Nice and cool out here,” he drawled. “Come join me.”
Standing in the water wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. But she’d made the mistake of saying she loved grilled trout, and Carter was a natural born provider...if sometimes a little stubborn.
“I’ll check on the horses first,” she said, setting down her coffee and heading toward Tucker and Hawk.
Tucker lifted his head from the grass, giving a soft nicker at her approach. Her riding had greatly improved, but patient Tucker was still her favorite trail horse. He was the only one she’d trusted when she first tried to throw a lariat from a horse’s back. He always took good care of her, although he’d never be speedy enough to chase a calf.
She checked their hobbles, gave both horses an affectionate pat, then stooped by the saddles and unfastened her lariat, a 4-strand Rattler, the same brand as the one she’d borrowed from Carter to rope her way home. Janet had sent the company a video clip of Allie staggering across the bridge with the life-saving lariat coiled over her shoulder. It had resulted in an immediate endorsement offer. “Tuff enough for a cowgirl,” was their current slogan.
Janet had turned into a solid friend despite her idiosyncrasies. At first, she’d been rather irritated that Allie was earning endorsements then mollified to learn that the company wanted Carter with Allie in most of the photos. And quite delighted to remind everyone that it was her initiative that had landed Allie the contract. Carter, of course, remained resistant to the attention. Just like his cat, he was unapologetically aloof with strangers, but loyal to trusted friends.
And to her.
She gave a happy bounce as she headed back toward the stream, her lariat coiled in her hand. She had boxes of Rattler ropes home at the chalet, ranging in color from yellow to pink and purple, but the aged white nylon remained her favorite. And it would be perfect for today’s photo.
Carter was still in the water, concentrating on his fly fishing, his back to her. She’d never realized a man could look so sexy in a cowboy hat and hip waders. He always warned students never to rope a person, but he was far more appealing than any roping dummy, and he would look even better gift wrapped in her lasso.
She inched to the side of the stream, careful to keep the toes of her purple boots out of the water. Then she twirled her lariat in the air, once, twice, three times, and let the rope fly. It was a beautiful throw and she watched it shoot forward, admiring her perfect aim and the lovely loop that settled below his hat and shoulders.
In fact, there’d been no risk to him at all. Her rope circled him perfectly, not touching his neck, but lying benignly around his chest. She smiled in satisfaction. Understandably, beginners shouldn’t rope people but she was way beyond hurting someone’s neck, at least when she wasn’t mounted.
She was raising her phone to take the photo when Carter moved, so unbelievably fast she couldn’t understand how he did it. But in three smooth motions, he flipped the rope off, yanked the end from her hands and whipped the lasso back toward her. She saw the spinning rope, but it was too late to run. And then the phone tumbled from her hand onto the ground and her arms were pinned against her sides.
She was still gaping as Carter pulled her toward him.
“You’re getting a little too cocky with that rope, sweetheart.”
“And you’ve been holding out on me,” she said, chagrined he was still so much better than her. “You’ll have to teach me that trick when we go home. Now let go before my boots get wet.”
She placed her hand expectantly on the lariat. It didn’t loosen. In fact, the rope tightened, forcing her to take another step or else tumble forward. Water soaked her boots, chilling her toes.
“Okay,” she said, rather alarmed now. “Sorry. You’re the master. And from now on I’ll follow all the rules. Now stop pulling.”
But he kept tension on the rope, forcing her further into the stream. Water lapped over her feet, drenching her socks and the bottom of her jeans. She gave an indignant sputter. “Stop it now, Carter. These are my only clothes.”
“Good,” he said.
She wasn’t sure how he moved his wrist—he truly was the master—but with a deft flick the rope moved and she toppled headfirst into the water.
She rose, soaked and sputtering. Seconds later, he was there to scoop her up.
She opened her mouth to complain then saw his granite jaw and slowly closed it. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to grumble about her wet clothes. And she had been flouting ranch rules. She just felt so alive.
She peeked up, studying his stern expression. No wonder guests were respectful around him. He looked like the type of cowboy who galloped in on a spirited black horse, shot up the town then scooped up a helpless young woman and carried her away.
And as long as she was that woman, she really didn’t mind. In fact, it made her think of all sorts of delightful activities.
“Are you going to loosen the rope?” she asked, her voice rather husky.
“Eventually.” His eyes lowered from her face to her chest. Slowly and very purposely, he opened her top button. Then three more. Or rather, he flicked them open. It was amazing the things he could do with his hands.
He slid his hand beneath the wet cotton, his warm palm cupping her breast. Both the cold water and the resulting sensations left her shivering. It was odd how her legs were chilled from the stream while some of her other parts were quickly heating up.
“If you want to team rope with me,” he said, “you’re going to have to follow the rules.”
“I did apologize,” she said primly.
She shifted, leaning her head higher against his shoulder. Her movement left water dripping over his chest, outlining his ridged muscles. It was some consolation that he was almost as wet as her. And the movement gave him easier access to her breasts, something he was taking full advantage of.
His expression remained stern though, every bit as forbidding as when he’d first sauntered into her dance hall.
She stuck her nose a little higher, determined to match his grim expression. “I just wanted a picture of a cowboy fishing.”
But Carter was fingering her nipple now, leaving her breathing a little uneven. She didn’t know how much longer she could hide her smile. He, of course, could play this game much longer than her. She was always the first to break.
“You have to remember,” she said, trying for an officious tone that would fit her new job as Public Relations Manager. “The ranch needs updated photos of Mr. July. Sharon said your picture would boost calendar sales.”
Carter just stared. “To which you said?”
“That I didn’t want to share my fiancé with the guests,” she said. “And also that we’d like your signed photo waiver back... Could you move your hand a little lower, please?”
“Like this?”
“Yes,” she breathed as his hand shifted. “Sharon also insisted she give me away at the wedding and that she be godmother to our first child.”
“So negotiations were tough.” A smile started in the corner of Carter’s mouth.
“Very tough,” she said. “But I took one for the team. So I feel I deserve better treatment than this river dunking. And to be trussed up like this, you know, so helpless...”
“Helpless isn’t a word that comes to mind.”
But he was chuckling, his eyes that delicious caramel color that always made her pulse race. And she could only smile back, wordless, because sometimes her emotions were too tangled with love and gratitude and disbelief. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve such a life, such a family. Such a man. She only knew she’d do anything to protect it.
“You’re so difficult to please,” Carter said. “I already promised you a hot bath and a foot rub. And all the steak and s’mores you can eat.” His beautiful mouth moved closer, his warm hand dipping even lower. “I really don’t know what else a woman can expect from a camping trip.”
Her sigh was one of utter contentment. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
***
