Chapter Four

The light drizzle that began when they left Roundup Days had morphed into a full-fledged downpour. Except for the large droplets hitting the windshield, silence reigned in the truck on the way back to Barrows.

Hollis assumed Stede still wrangled with his emotions, as in trying to get them under control, after the altercation with Ned and Jasper. Eli focused on the sudden onslaught of rain attacking the windshield and she expelled the long breath she'd been holding since they roared out of the parking lot. Erline's words rang in her ears, 'If things go south while you're with these misfits, get the hell out of Hades.' Of course, she hadn't gotten the hell out. How could she when trouble had found the two most important people in her world? Again.

It wouldn't do any good to tell Erline they didn't go looking for it, not when most of the clientele who frequented Mane Squeeze would be knocking her door down come Monday morning ready to tear her ear off. Damn, those women could spread gossip in an empty house.

Eli broke the prolonged silence. "I should get a point for that back there, don't ya think, Marrow?"

"What! For pulling me off Ned?"

"Yeah, saving your ass from jail ought to be worth at least one."

"Good try, Eli, but in order to earn a point, you have to actually beat me at something, not ride in on your white horse like fu . . . freaking Lancelot."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

Hollis rolled her eyes, although she doubted either man noticed. "Not that I care, but what's the tally this week anyway?"

Stede thumped his chest. "As of yesterday, Marrow ten, Trace five."

"Oh, that's low." Eli shook his head. "You're taking a point for that bronco bust yesterday?"

"Hell, yes. You hit the ground before me."

"By two seconds, if that. Don't see how you can claim a win on that one."

"Ask Curly. He said it was close but gave me the win."

"Come on, Curly's glasses are thicker than Coke bottles."

"All right . . . all right." Hollis put a hand in the air. "Sheesh, you two, is it really that important in light of what just happened?"

They leaned forward, exchanged glances, and answered simultaneously, "Yes."

"I don't know why either one of you are breaking horses anyway. Thought Eli's dad hired professionals for that after—after . . ."

"His accident?"

She nodded.

"He did, but once in a while Stede and I get a crazy notion to challenge fate."

"Like jumping off bridges, diving into shallow water holes, taunting bulls in a pasture. You're both idiots, but if seeing your dad in that wheelchair isn't enough to remind you what happens when you challenge fate, guess nothing will."

Eli eased up on the gas as they traveled down Barrows' Main Street and then turned left at the green sign, Hilltop Trailer Park. Hollis never did figure out why some moron named the trailer park Hilltop. There wasn't a hill, a knoll or even a raised berm in the entire park. In fact, she'd never seen a flatter parcel of land.

When the truck came to a stop, Stede opened the door, hopped down and then held out at hand for Hollis. "Thanks for the lift, man."

Eli lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

"You want to come in for a beer?" Hollis asked with a smile.

"Nah, we're branding tomorrow so I'm rising with the sun."

"Thanks . . . for everything, Eli. Maybe we'll drive out to the ranch Sunday."

"Look forward to it, girl. We could use Stede's help, and I'll tell Pervis to fire up the barbeque."

Inside the trailer, Hollis headed to her room to change into dry clothes while Stede made a beeline toward the fridge for a beer. After removing her boots, damp jeans, white blouse and leather vest, she reached into the top dresser drawer and yanked out a black, cotton camisole and matching pajama bottoms. Clutching them in her arms, she looked up and found Stede standing in the doorway. He had removed his wet shirt and now his heavy-lidded, dark eyes were fixed on her. Chiseled perfection.

"What?" she said, aware a flock of moths swirled and dipped in her belly.

"You're not mad after what happened, are you?"

"Does it matter one way or the other?"

His answer came fast. "Yes."

She exhaled hard. "No, I'm not mad, not at you. I'll never hear the end of this from Erline though."

He took a swig of his beer. "I don't give a shit what people in this backwoods town think or say about me."

"I know. You don't give a crap about much of anything."

Closing his eyes, he shook his head, opened them and studied her for a long time, as if memorizing every feature of her face.

'What are you thinking, Stede, right now, what's going through that secret mind of yours?"

"I'm thinking I should have kept going that day I found Eli drowning in that stream."

"But you didn't."

"No. Like a dumb ass I pulled my bike over and dove in. Stupid fool slipped between two boulders while crossing, catching his boot. The river pulling him under again and again and him, still clinging to that goddamned fishing rod."

"You saved his life."

"Yeah, guess so."

"You could have kept riding after that." She looked down at the floor. "Heading for wherever you were going."

"Nowhere in particular, and yes, I could have kept on riding. But then he talked me into bringing him here so he could dry off and get his truck."

She couldn't look at him; let him see the all-consuming hunger in her eyes. One day, he would ride out of her life, just as fast as he rode in two years ago. She didn't want to think about it, but somehow it was easier to bear if she didn't look at him.

"And then I saw you, and the rest is history. That town I was searching for down the highway no longer mattered, nothing mattered after that except you and Eli."

Her chin came up. Lightning flashed outside, casting him in an eerie light. The tattoos on his upper arms swam in her line of vision, a scorpion on his upper left arm, a tiger's face on the upper right.

"God you are a sight to behold . . . the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life."

"I-I am?"

He prowled toward her, all brooding, magnificent male. She clutched the pajamas close to her chest, and with her blood on fire, he backed her into the wall near the bed. He smelled like a perfect medley of sandalwood, rain and pure male. "You don't know you are, do you? You really don't know."

She shook her head. "I'm not—"

"Sshh." He set his beer down on the nightstand and placed a finger over her lips. "Let me tell you what I love about you." His hand moved from her lips to the hair at the side of her head. "Your hair is so blonde, it's almost white . . . long, thick and sexy." He kissed her eyes. "These amazing baby-blues?" His breath caressed her cheek; his lips hovering so close, an ache took flight between her thighs. "The first time I looked into them, ocean met sky for me. I thought I'd found Heaven." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "That lush, full mouth called to me, begged me to kiss it."

"Stede," she said on a half-breath.

He picked her up as if she tipped the scales at ten pounds and carried her to the bed. After laying her down, he crawled in beside her. "I couldn't keep riding, Hollis, not after I saw your face. I should have, damn it, for your sake, but I couldn't." He cradled the back of her head and pulled her close, toward that sensual mouth, until their faces were inches apart. Their breaths mingled, and she felt his heart pounding like a battering ram in sync with hers.

Her gaze held his. "I'm glad you didn't."

He trailed a series of scorching kisses down her neck and then, in a bold and demanding kiss, claimed her lips. Liquid warmth pedaled through her veins. When a moan escaped from her throat, he needed no further encouragement to continue his assault of her battered senses and body. She took what he offered and gave as much in return. He did love her; he did, as much as she loved him. He'd never said it but showed it in a thousand ways. God help her if he ever walked out of her life.

* * *

With the scent of their love rising from her skin, he tucked his arm under her waist and drew her close to him. She loved these moments. Spooned into his warmth and feeling like the most loved woman in the world, she felt emboldened enough to ask him questions she'd never ask otherwise. 'Course, he never revealed much, but one could always hope.

A clap of thunder outside drove her closer into his hard body. "Do you think you'll ever tell me where you're from?"

Humor laced his words. "I'd have to kill you then."

She made a face. "Oh, for once be serious."

"I am serious. It's better you don't know."

She groaned. "Just what does that mean, exactly? I'm better off or is that code for safer?"

He kissed her ear. "Both."

"Am I supposed to be shaking in my boots? Because I'm not, you know."

"You're not wearing boots." His hand skimmed down her hips. "In fact, you're not wearing anything."

With a playful sweep of her hand, she brushed his away, not because she didn't want him touching her, but she wanted him to stay on the subject. "If I guess where you're from, will you tell me?"

"No, but you seem to enjoy this game so take your best shot."

"The girls who work at Mane Squeeze—Viney, Adeline, Miranda—think you're from a big city, Chicago, Boston or maybe Helena."

"Viney." He blew a stuttered breath. "What the hell kind of a name is that?"

"Don't change the subject. Are you . . . from Boston or Chicago?"

"Here's how the people from Boston talk: 'Birds of a feathah flock togethah.' Hell, no, I'm not from there."

She couldn't stifle her laugh. "You're not from Idaho, are you? Because I've always wanted to visit Red Roan Mountain Ranch, and that's in Idaho." Releasing a contented sigh, she added, "I've looked at the pictures on the Internet a thousand times. It's so beautiful, so serene."

"We'll have to put that on our bucket list."

Our bucket list? Yes!

"You did it again, veered off topic." She reached behind her and pinched him in the ribs. "I asked if you were from Idaho."

"No."

"How about Oklahoma?"

"Are we gonna go through every state?" He covered his mouth with a yawn. "Cuz I'm about to crash."

"I think you are…from Oklahoma."

"Why?"

"Number one, you're hiding an accent. Most wouldn't notice but I do. Could be Texas, maybe Oklahoma. Number two, you're always humming that song, you know, You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma."

A laugh rumbled up from his gut. "Maybe I'm humming You're the Reason God Made Wyoming."

"There is no such song and the words don't fit. You're missing a syllable there, George Jones."

"No, I'm not," he said in the most serious tone she'd ever heard him utter. "Here, listen." His warm breath nuzzled her ear and then he sang the lyrics, low, and oh, so sexy. "You're the reason God made My Wyoming and I'm sure missing you."

Delicious shivers skittered down her spine.

"You are, Hollis, and that's what I think about when I hum that song. You're the only reason God made Wyoming, the only reason I'm still here."

She wiggled around to face him with tears in her eyes. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Good." He kissed her, short and sweet. "Can we go to sleep now?"

"Yes."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled into him again. He drifted off almost the moment he closed his eyes, but not her. She felt his heartbeat against her breasts, listened to his deep, steady breaths, and relived every minute of the passion they shared. And she repeated in her mind every treasured word he'd whispered in her ear. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring but with Stede beside her, she could handle anything thrown in her path.