Cowboy Rough_A Steamy, Contemporary Romance Novella Read online

  Now I remember why I gave up dating.

  Still, though . . . those eyes, those lips, those legs. A groan starts in my chest, and I push it back down. It’s a damn shame that I’m so attracted to Sloane Gentry. When you’ve gone as long as I have without the touch of a woman, seeing a sexy as sin one bent over in your horse stable is near enough to make you rock hard.

  But it doesn’t matter. I’ve dated the know-it-all girls. I’ve done the shallow ones and the uptight ones. It doesn’t matter how beautiful a woman is. If her personality doesn’t match the physical goods, there’s no point in trying.

  I just wish my dick felt the same way.

  3

  Sloane

  The ruckus from the dining room carries through the heavy front door. I go to touch the handle then pause. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.

  When I stepped onto that train everything seemed so right. But the further I got from Connecticut, the more I questioned myself. Even that sense of purpose I had, that flicker of hope, began to lessen. When I saw Cord, it unexpectedly came back. His piercing green eyes drew me in and held me tight. And then, just as quickly, the tide turned. I said or did something wrong, and he huffed off.

  I don’t know what I’m doing here. That’s just the simple, painful truth. I’m trying to discover myself, to figure out who I am away from school and my parents, yes. But maybe I’m going about it the wrong way.

  Just as I’m wondering when the next train out of Gramsby is, the door flies open. A short, blond woman stands there drying one of her hands on her apron. She has to be close to Uncle Daniel’s age, but the smile she gives me has a childlike quality to it.

  “There you are!” she squeals. Before I can respond, her hands are on my shoulders, and she’s ushering me into the living room.

  The ceiling is vaulted, with exposed beams and tall windows running the length of the back wall. Braided rugs cover the floor and protect the wood from the leather couches and chairs. To the right is a fireplace so large that I could probably walk straight into it without having to bend over. Above it, a stuffed buck’s head gazes down at me. The place is a hunting cabin on steroids.

  “Dinner’s already up,” the woman says, steering me across the living room and toward the hall.

  “You’re Miranda?” I question.

  “The one and only. Now get in here and have a seat.”

  I let her take me across the hallway and into a massive dining room. There’s one table, but it’s so long it looks like it came out of a king’s court. Over a dozen ranch hands, plus Uncle Daniel, sit around it talking and eating. Miranda briefly introduces me, and then I plop down into one of the available chairs while numerous greetings are thrown my way.

  “You didn’t happen to see that nephew of mine out there, did you?” Miranda asks, taking the seat next to me. She takes my plate and begins loading it with potatoes and ham. It’s a good thing I’m not vegetarian, because it doesn’t look like I’d get far forgoing meat at this ranch.

  “Who?” I dumbly question.

  “Cord. Have you met him yet?”

  “Oh. No. I mean, yes, I met him. And I did see him, but he said he wasn’t hungry.”

  “He’s about to worry himself to death,” Uncle Daniel says from across the table.

  I can’t help myself. “About what? What’s wrong?”

  “Cattle,” the dark-haired cowboy next to me answers. “They’ve been going missing. Not from here, yet, but from the other ranches.”

  “That sucks.”

  Miranda interrupts the conversation. “Let’s hear about your trip, Sloane. How was it?”

  I give a condensed version of the journey. Luckily, hardly anyone other than Uncle Daniel and Miranda are listening. Public speaking has never been my forte, and talking to a group of what I’ve counted to be eighteen men is basically the same as giving a speech.

  Once dinner’s over I offer to help clean up, but Miranda turns me down. “You need to get settled. Come on, now. I’ll show you your room.”

  She takes me down the hallway and past several closed doors. “That’s where your uncle sleeps,” she says, pointing to one of them.

  “And where’s your room?”

  “I live in town with my husband.”

  “And Cord?” I ask innocently. Just because he left me alone in the middle of the yard earlier doesn’t mean those deep-green eyes and disheveled, dirty-blond hair haven’t been on my mind nonstop. When it comes to experience with men, I have close to zero. My track record basically begins and ends with my first kiss at a party sophomore year of high school. That itself wasn’t particularly meaningful. It’s hard to get excited about men when you realize most of them are just boys pretending to be adults.

  Then again, I’ve never met a boy like Cord. Scratch that. A man. I’ve never met anyone who has the effect Cord McPherson has on me. Feeling his eyes on my skin made my legs turn to jelly and the muscles between my thighs clench up in a dirty, so-wrong way.

  “Cord sleeps in the guest house,” Miranda explains.

  “But this place is so big. Do the ranch hands live here, too?”

  “They sleep in the cabins over past the stables.” She stops at a door at the end of the hallway and pushes it open. The room spread out in front of us is small but perfect. With a slanted ceiling, a queen-sized bed, and a big window overlooking the backyard, it definitely has the dorm I shared at Bexley beat.

  “I’m here for another hour or so,” Miranda says. “Holler if you need anything.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  She goes, and I sit down on the end of the bed. My suitcase is here, resting against the wall. Seeing it makes a sudden wave of sadness rush through me. I feel so far from home.

  But where is my home, really? It’s definitely not Howe. And I no longer feel like it’s Los Angeles. If I were to return there, I know what I would be facing. It would be an endless barrage of questions and accusations. My parents would want to know why I left school, just what I was thinking, and what my plans are. And I don’t have answers to any of those questions.

  In my back pocket, my phone begins to ring. I pull the cell from my shorts and inspect the screen. It’s my father, calling right on cue, as if he’d read my mind over hundreds of miles and known I was thinking about him.

  “Not right now,” I groan, dropping the phone on the bed without answering it. I’ll have to talk to my parents eventually, but at this very moment, I just can’t stomach the thought. They know where I am, and, for now, that’s good enough for me.

  I unpack my bag and carefully tuck the clothes and books I brought into the empty wardrobe. Aside from my laptop and my journal, that’s all I have. I left almost everything else behind in Howe, either giving things to my dorm mate or dropping them off at the thrift store. Leaving school meant I was starting a new life, and I didn’t want to bring too many remnants of the old one with me.

  Finished unpacking, I mill around the room. I’m restless, but not in the mood to socialize anymore. Opening the door just the slightest bit, I listen for noises. There are still some voices coming from the direction of the dining room. I open the door further and find just what I thought I saw earlier—a back door at the end of the hallway.

  Closing my bedroom door quietly behind myself, I make my way out the second door and into the backyard. It’s fully dark out, but the stars do a decent job of lighting up the ranch. What ground I can’t see I take slowly, feeling out each new step with my slip-on sneakers.

  I make my way down a slope and along the edge of what might be a garden. As I walk, I intermittently peek up at the blanket of stars above me. They glow in a way I’ve never seen before, unhindered by the congestion of city lights.

  For the first time in the last hour, I smile. Maybe I don’t know what the heck I’m doing or where I’m going with my life, but at least I have this amazing view to enjoy.

  The sound of heavy breathing cuts into my thoughts. I freeze midstep and cock my head. The breathing stops. In
stead, my increasingly loud heartbeat takes up the empty space.

  Maybe I imagined it. I swallow hard and begin walking again. Even louder breathing fills the air.

  In an instant, adrenaline shoots through my body. I’m not imagining things. I’m being followed by someone . . . or something.

  Keep calm, Sloane. Just keep calm.

  The breathing is getting closer, though. It’s coming from right behind me, too thick and heavy to belong to a human. Visions of every wild creature imaginable fill my head. I was an idiot to leave the house all by myself at night. I can see it in the papers now: Bexley Dropout Eaten by Wolves in Colorado.

  I weigh my options. I could run for it, but I can’t see more than a yard in front of me. For all I know, I could run into an electric fence or fall off a cliff. Going back to the house doesn’t seem like a good bet, either, seeing as whatever is following me is standing between me and the back door.

  I tiptoe as quietly as I can to the side. Maybe if I make a sort of curve back toward the house, I’ll be able to throw whatever is stalking me off my trail. I hold my breath as I take a couple steps, terrified to even exhale. The huffing behind me gets louder, and a poorly outlined shape emerges from the dark. It’s massive, bigger than I could ever imagine.

  Before I know it’s happening, I’m running. My arms pump at my sides, and my calves scream as they stretch farther than they were made to. The thing is behind me, its heavy paws pounding into the earth. For each step I take, it takes four. I’ll never escape it.

  A light shines ahead of me, a beacon of hope. I push my muscles harder and send up a silent prayer. Please just let me make it there. Please.

  I’m close, so close . . . The building emerges from the dark. It’s a barn. Throwing my hands out in front of myself, I collide with the door. It gives under my weight, and I half run, half tumble through the doorway.

  Spinning on my heel, I turn to face the open door. There’s nothing there.

  “Sloane.”

  I jerk at the unexpected voice. Cord appears out of seemingly nowhere, his eyes wide. “Are you all right?”

  He reaches a hand out as if he’s going to touch me, then seems to think better of it and pulls back.

  “There’s . . . there’s a . . .” I gasp between words, both too exhausted and too terrified to form a full sentence. I settle for pointing at the doorway. As I do, a large white dog lumbers in, its pink tongue hanging from its mouth.

  The animal hustles over to Cord and rubs its side along his legs. Cord pats the dog’s head. “Hey, Baby.”

  I finally get in a full breath. “A dog.”

  Cord looks at me in interest. “You haven’t met Baby?” Just as he’s finishing asking the question, a knowing look surfaces on his face. “Ah. I see.” Cord throws his head back in laughter.

  My face burns. Crossing my arms, I give Cord what I hope is my best angry stare. “It’s not funny. She came up to me in the dark and started chasing me. I thought she was a wolf or something.”

  Cord scratches Baby’s ear. “A wolf killer, maybe. She’s a Great Pyrenees. They’re bred to keep wild animals away from the livestock. It sounds like you fell victim to her favorite game. No one loves playing tag as much as Baby does.”

  The dog happily looks up at Cord, her tongue still lolling across her teeth. I would think she was cute if my heart weren’t currently threatening to explode from the aftershocks of pure terror.

  “What were you doing out there, anyway?” Cord looks at me with new interest, the intensity in his green eyes making my temperature climb.

  “I was just . . . just taking a walk.”

  “Huh.”

  I blink, at a loss for words. How can this guy be so rude? What did I do to him, anyway? He was so polite the first few minutes after we met, but now . . . now he’s looking at me like he wishes he’d never said yes to allowing my visit.

  He stops petting the dog and turns around, lifting up a saddle and depositing it on an old, wooden table. A snort fills the barn, and for the first time, I notice that we’re in the stable where we met earlier today.

  Nearby, a black horse pushes its nose against the slabs of its stall. As ridiculous as Cord is being, I’m not ready to just walk out of the stable. The black horse is one I haven’t met yet, and it’s obviously friendly.

  Holding out my hand to it, I step forward. The animal’s lips scrape across my palm.

  “She wants a treat.”

  Cord’s voice is hard. Saying nothing, I rub the white streak of fur running down the middle of the horse’s head.

  “Here.” He steps up next to me and offers a sugar cube. “Just be warned: once you feed one, they’ll all be asking for some.”

  I hesitate. His face is almost bored looking, a sharp contrast to the gesture he’s displaying.

  “Thanks,” I slowly answer, taking the sugar cube from between his fingers. My stomach curls in on itself, and I look back at the horse.

  Was that a good feeling or a bad one I just had? Both?

  Cord turns away, busying himself with the saddle once more. I lay the sugar cube on my palm, and the horse sucks it up right away, its fat lips tickling my skin in the process. Cord is still at the table, not looking at me, instead rubbing some kind of oil all over the saddle.

  The smell of leather fills the barn, and I breathe it in. Even though it’s not a familiar scent, there’s something comforting about it.

  Cord cocks an eyebrow at me. “You don’t seem like someone who would want to come all the way out here.”

  The way he says it, it sounds like an accusation.

  “Okay.”

  He shrugs, even though I didn’t ask anything. “You’re just a . . .”

  “City girl?” I cross my arms.

  “Something like that.”

  Gone is the twisty, giddy feeling he gave me a moment ago. There’s a fire raging in my stomach, a roaring, brimstone-infused one that I would like to toss this smart-mouthed, pretty boy right into.

  Before I can say a word, though, there’s a noise at the stable’s door and Uncle Daniel walks in. He’s dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, his hair wet, and he smiles as he sees me.

  “You two hitting it off?”

  I glance at Cord, but he looks away, busy with his precious saddle once more.

  “I was just taking a walk,” I explain.

  “Hm.” Uncle Daniel comes over to pat the black horse. “Bella here is one of the sweetest mares you’ve ever met. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. You could even start out little kids riding on her.”

  “She seems wonderful,” I agree. Bella noses my shoulder, probably looking for more sugar. No way am I asking Cord for another cube, though. Not even for a sweet girl like Bella.

  “You know how to ride?” Uncle Daniel asks.

  “I—”

  With Cord’s eyes on me, I don’t want to answer that. He probably thinks any life not half spent on a horse is a life spent in abominable sin.

  “Cord can teach you.”

  A sharp inhale comes from across the stable. “She didn’t say she doesn’t know how.”

  I fold my arms, still not looking at Cord. “That’s okay, Uncle Daniel.”

  “No, no. You need to learn. Trust me, if you’re going to be here all summer, it’ll come in handy.”

  He looks over at Cord, whose jaw is twitching. And then, just because I want to show this man he can’t intimidate me, I smile big and wide.

  “I would love to learn how to ride.”

  Cord’s gaze flicks my way, daggers flying straight at me.

  “Great,” Uncle Daniel says. “I can’t wait to see you up there.”

  I keep on smiling sweetly at Cord. “How about tomorrow morning?”

  “I’m busy,” he barks.

  “You’re not that busy,” Uncle Daniel interjects. “Dane and I can take care of the rounds on the fences. Teach this girl what it means to live it up in Colorado.”

  Cord looks like he’d rather dig a deep grave and bury me some
where in Colorado.

  With a clap on my shoulder, Uncle Daniel says good night and leaves the stable. Cord stays where he is, shoulders square, face hard. The oil-covered rag stretches between his hands, victim of his vicious twists.

  “You’ll teach me, right?” I ask, only because I can’t bear the silence.

  “Do you actually want to learn?”

  My mouth falls open. “Is that rhetorical?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  And I’m not going to now. Folding my arms, I give him a cool look. “Good night. See you in the morning.”

  With that, I walk for the door. The weight of his gaze presses between my shoulder blades, making me shiver. As I go through the doorway, I swear I feel that gaze slide down as Cord drinks in my whole body.

  4

  Cord

  I stare at the wooden ceiling, the marks in the grain twisting and taking on new shapes. The first gray notes of morning enter the room, and on the other side of the ranch the roosters are crowing.

  That girl.

  I shouldn’t even be thinking about her. Not with a dozen other worries on my mind. I have a ranch to run, a team to lead . . . I have . . .

  The most rock-hard boner I’ve had in months. Shit, years.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. Difficult as it is, I force myself out of bed and into the shower. I need to take care of this problem so I can haul my ass out of the cabin and up the hill to work.

  Turning the shower on hot as I can take it, I turn my back to the spray and let it hit my neck. The sore muscles there soak the heat up, releasing tension as beads of water roll down my back.

  My dick twitches, shaft and balls engorged with a kind of need I haven’t felt in years. Eyes sealed shut, I seize it at the base and lethargically stroke it. I don’t want to think about her, shouldn’t be thinking about her.

  One, she’s a little too young for me.