Catching Calhoun (3 page)

“I’m not interested in being mysterious for you,” she snapped. “Kenny, Minnie, go sit in the stands, please.”

“’Kay, Mom. See ya, cowboy,” Minnie said.

“Now it’s just the two of us,” he said. “Clever of you to think of a way for us to be alone.”

She ripped off her mask, ready to dispel his over-enthusiastic appeal, when the huge grin on his face stopped her.

He winked, slowly and sexily.

Her breath caught inside her chest.

No, no, no,
she’d told the kids about cowboys. And
no
she’d told herself. This man might be the best reason she’d ever met for saying no to cowboys.

“Your kids said I shouldn’t miss the show,” he told her, his husky voice sending chills down her spine. “My name’s Calhoun Jefferson, of the Union Junction ranch. Better known as Malfunction Junction,” he said with a grin.

“Why do I find that easy to believe?”

“Because you can tell I’m a man of my word.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Cowboy, you are full of yourself.”

“And you find it strangely appealing.” He patted Gypsy under her mane, right along her neck where she liked it best.

“Is that what all the ladies tell you?”

He grinned. “What ladies?”

She rolled her eyes and snapped her mask back on.

“Oh, come on,” he said softly, “unbend a little. A little mama like yourself ought to enjoy some harmless flirting. It’s nothing more than keeping a lonely cowboy company. And you’re not exactly hard on the eyes, you know.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Jefferson. And please refrain from buttering up my kids.”

“On the contrary. They buttered me up, put me on a plate and brought me to you for a friendly snack.”

She flicked Gypsy’s reins. “Friendly snacks have a way of putting weight on a woman, cowboy, and I’m on a special snackless diet. Goodbye.”

Olivia moved Gypsy forward, away from Calhoun. Calhoun! She might have known he’d possess
an unusual name. He’d said he was harmless, but they all said that.

After tomorrow night’s show, she would round up Minnie and Kenny and head out of Lonely Hearts Station. Time was not on her side. That darn cowboy was reading her mind like a newspaper, and he knew full well she was attracted to him.

It wouldn’t hurt to take that bold confidence down a peg. Turning, she lifted her mask. “Mr. Jefferson.”

He grinned, obviously thinking his charm had won her over. “Call me Calhoun.”

She nodded. “Calhoun, did you beat the buzzer?”

“No, ma’am. I must admit I did not.”

“Ah.” She pretended great interest in her mask before looking back at him. Her voice sexy, she said, “How long did you last?”

He grinned. “Three seconds. Generally, I last as long as I need to, though.”

Her lips flattened out as she realized he was on to her wordplay, and his confidence wasn’t dented a bit.

“Yes,” he said expansively, “they call me Countin’ Calhoun. Three is usually my minimum. I’m disappointed cuz it’ll bring down my average of nine.”

“Nine seconds?” She blinked.

“Oh, no, ma’am. Nine…well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

She felt the blush hit her cheeks like summer’s heat. Her hands snapped Gypsy’s reins of their own accord, and she rode stiffly away from his laughter.

Blast him. Now her mind was racing! Nine hours,
nine orgasms, nine what? “I would
love
to know,” she grumbled to herself. “Braggart!”

She hadn’t enjoyed making love with her husband. Truthfully, she had been no proper wife, because if there had been a night she could avoid even kissing him, she did. Maybe she’d only gotten married to have children.

As much as she loved her father, his stranglehold on her younger self had been too much for her. In her heart, she’d made peace with the fact that most likely her teenage rebellion had blossomed into two children. It didn’t matter now, but she knew well enough from her marital experience that she was not a good wife.

So it really didn’t matter what Calhoun was counting—though she’d never before heard a man so proud of his numerals.

Calhoun was impressed with Olivia’s act—the one where she pretended she wasn’t interested in him even more than the one with Gypsy, Grandpa and the barrels. He left the show, heading to his truck.

Olivia’s no-sizzle charade intrigued him. Never had he seen a lady with more sex appeal trying so hard to hide her light under a bushel basket, as the old-timers used to say. She wouldn’t even let loose with a smile for him—and that told him a lot.

It told him Olivia was chicken. He’d caught her checking him out, and she didn’t mind dueling with wordplay, so the passion was there. She’d simply turned her sex switch to the Off position.

A better man might find a way to flip that switch back on.

It would be a fun chase, and he had no doubt she’d give him the run of his life, which he would enjoy thoroughly. Yet it seemed to him that was probably how his brothers had ended up at the altar—thinking with their Sex Switch Fix-It Kits.

He had his nudes to keep him company, and he’d have to be satisfied with that.

“Calhoun?”

The voice stopped him before he took the tarp off the truck bed. He turned. “Olivia?”

She blushed. “Can I talk to you?”

She could talk to him. She could walk with him. She could— “Sure. What’s up?”

Glancing around, she said, “It’s a private matter.”

Oh, yeah. His favorite kind. “Well, we could sit in my truck, or we could walk to the tearoom, or—”

“Your truck is fine. Thanks.”

She hopped into the driver’s side and slid across the seat before he could open the door for her. Dang, he’d never had a woman so eager to spend time alone with him. He shut his door and waited expectantly.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” she began. “I must ask you to stay away from my children as much as possible. I know they’ve been seeking you out, and I’m going to talk to them about that, but in any case, I’d appreciate your help with this.”

Now that wasn’t the prelude he’d been hoping for. His spirit dimmed a bit. “Why? Have I upset you somehow?”

“No. It’s complicated, actually, and forgive me for not wanting to explain more, but it would just be best.”

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “For you, for me or for them?”

“For everyone.”

Hmm. This lady was more afraid of her switch
than he’d thought. Tapping the steering wheel, he said, “Of course I will do whatever you ask.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, sensing her relief. “Can I ask one question?”

“Yes.”

“If we weren’t attracted to each other, would I be getting this No-Kids-Zone request?”

She looked at him. “Cowboy, I never said I was attracted to you.”

“You wouldn’t say it, even if it were the truth.”

Her lips formed a rosebud of disapproval. He made a mental note that this woman was darling even when she was annoyed, which was important. Some women were downright scary when they were annoyed. A man factored in facial expressions when he was getting to know a woman. An artist such as himself was particularly attuned to the range of expressions each female possessed.

She might be affecting his barometer of sexual attraction, but this female’s needle gauge was hovering right around the Back-Off-Buddy range.

“Thank you for understanding about the children,” Olivia said, opening the truck door. “They are always scouting for men. Although I will say that they’re a little more enthusiastic about pitching you.”

“Thanks. I think.” He let her get out of the truck, though he was sorely tempted to take her fragile little wrist and pull her back inside for a goodbye kiss
that would make her think ten times before she shut that door in his face.

However, the combination of her switch turned off and her lips budded with displeasure signaled he should keep his tendencies to himself for the moment. He also sensed sweet talk was not the way to crack her defenses.

Damn, she was a puzzle.

“I’m good with puzzles,” he murmured out loud.

“I beg your pardon?” She halted before shutting the door.

“Oh. Never mind. Sorry.”

“It sounded like you said ‘I’m good with puzzles.’”

“No.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Have a good afternoon.”

“Goodbye,” he said, his meaning clear. Might as well join the game of hard-to-get since that seemed to be her seduction of choice.

But she closed the truck door without even a moment of regret or coyness, and Calhoun realized she really wasn’t up to anything more than what she’d said: asking him not to buddy up with her kids.

The whole thing hurt his feelings a helluva lot more than it should have.

So it startled him when she tapped on the driver’s side window a few minutes later. It rattled him, he admitted, because he’d figured she was long gone with dust trails behind her. He opened the door. “Did you forget to spoon out the last chunk of my feelings?
Come back to play the last song as the lights dim at the bar and Calhoun goes home somewhat annoyed and depressed?”

Olivia blinked. “Why would you be depressed? You don’t even know us.”

He shifted, pushing his back against the seat cushion. “What am I supposed to do, Olivia, if I see your kids again? Walk on by?”

Her eyes opened. “The rodeo’s only going on for one more night. After that, it won’t matter.”

“No, it won’t—but, to be honest, I’ve never had a woman ask me to stop being friendly to her kids. And I will admit that it kind of sucks.” He frowned. “I don’t see what harm I’ve done.”

“You haven’t. It’s very difficult to explain, Calhoun, but my children are sort of…thinkers. Worriers, if you will. And they try to manipulate their environment. In this case, the environment is you.”

He really didn’t know what to say to that much honesty.

She looked at him, and he could tell she was embarrassed.

“So you’re saying I’m just a target for their attention?”

“Right. One in a long line.”

Ouch. He didn’t like to be in long lines anywhere, unless it was a cattle parade at the rodeo.

With a sigh, she said, “This isn’t easy to say about my children. But I’m sure you can appreciate my position as a single parent.”

“Sure. You don’t want your kids scoping out potential fathers.”

She frowned. “Fathers? I don’t think that thought ever entered their mind. They have my dad as a father figure.”

Hmm. He hadn’t considered that. They did have a version of the classic nuclear family. “So what do they want from me?”

“The question is better posed as ‘What do you want from us?’ Because I think that’s where the problem comes in.”

He ran his hand through his hair and put his hat back on. “Look, I think my M.O. is pretty simple. I just want to kiss you. And if being friendly to your kids comes along with the package, I’m cool with that. They’re a different sort of crew, but what you don’t know, because you don’t know me well enough, is that I’m kind of at home with strange characters.”

“Kiss me?”

Her eyes were open with something like shock, or maybe alarm. Calhoun considered that. Clearly, kissing him had not crossed her mind. Pow! One more sock to the ole ego. Man, this woman had her sex switch permanently lodged in the Off position, and it would take a god of Herculean enterprises to move the damn thing.

“A kiss is not exactly asking you to jump off a bridge, you know,” he said sourly. “Pardon me if I thought you might, you know, find me attractive.
Like I do you. Although you are getting on my nerves with your lack of response to my manly attributes.”

She started to laugh. He thought it sounded more like nerves than amusement, though, so he decided to go with it. “Share the joke.”

“I can’t. There’s no joke. Really. It’s just that…you don’t want to kiss me, cowboy. Trust me.”

“I think I will be the judge of my sexual desire, thank you very much,” he said. “But let me find out for myself so I can be honest with both of us.”

Calhoun swept Olivia into his lap, just the way he’d been dying to do since meeting her, and he planted a kiss right on her lips. Olivia didn’t move, probably from surprise, so he cradled her face in his hands and began a more gentle assault on her locked-down security position. Softly, he moved his lips against hers, then lightly ran his tongue across her lips before pressing his mouth against hers over and over again.

And everything in his jeans went straight to attention. He might have burst a seam somewhere. Yowza, this little mama smelled good, she felt great, and her mouth was made for his.

He could spend a lifetime kissing her.

Calhoun shoved her out of his lap. “You’re right. I didn’t want to kiss you.”

She gasped, and then, to his everlasting surprise, she slapped him one across the face before whirling off.

Now, granted he’d been hit harder in his life, and
goodness knows, it had been more a whisk than a smack that she’d landed—but it was the intention that startled him.

The little minx. And he still had an erection—blast her curvy little rump that had heated his zipper as she’d sat in his lap. “I’m pretty certain she’s annoying me,” he muttered. “She tried to slap me, and I still have the itch to go after her. Where I come from, I know that would be considered a bad omen!”

Especially since he’d been fibbing to save his soul.

He
had
wanted to kiss her. And he wanted to do it again—soon.

T
HE WORST THING
a man could tell a woman, Olivia decided, was that he didn’t want to kiss her—after he’d insisted upon it. The arrogant cowboy! Once again, her theory about cowboys was proved true. The Elusive Sexy Cowboy was the most devastating thing that could happen to a woman.

He’d managed to tear apart the first budding of her heart without even trying.

Maybe not actual budding, she thought. Maybe just a scratching of new growth hidden beneath a winterized girdle of dormant seed, but she’d felt the stirring. Like a new plant turning toward the sun, she’d felt herself warming to Calhoun. A surprising ray of hope had lit inside her when he’d put his mouth against hers, touching her kindly and gently, awakening feelings she’d never known she could possess.

It had felt so wonderful to kiss him. He had no idea how much she’d delighted in finding that a man’s kiss could give her pleasure instead of revulsion.

And then, he’d crushed her new growth.

He’d think twice before he tried to steal another kiss from her—and then insult her inexperience.

Crawling into the bed inside the trailer, Olivia slipped between her kids. They curled up next to her, as they always did, making her relax with contentment. Here was what mattered to her heart. Kenny and Minnie: the best part of her life.

At the other end of the trailer, she could hear her father snoring as he took his nap. Everything was in its place. In a little while, she’d take the kids to see tonight’s fun. There would be face painting and art exhibits and other exciting things for them to do—and she was going to forget all about Calhoun and his effect on her.

She was going to forget everything except his kiss. That had been a surprise, making her tingle all over. Even if Calhoun was a bad thing for her, his kiss had been very good.

He need not ever know exactly how one simple kiss had changed her awareness of herself. Today, she felt as if life was starting all over again.

She was glad she’d slapped him for being a horse’s ass, though.

“I
SHOULD KISS HER AGAIN
,” Calhoun told himself when he saw Olivia and her kids wander into the ex
hibit pavilion that evening. “And then tell her I’d been tweaking the truth just a wee bit.”

But she’d asked him to stay away from her kids because they were seekers of some kind. He frowned, wondering what they needed so bad that they had a habit of trolling for men. It didn’t matter. Olivia was with her kids, and she’d asked him not to be friendly with them, so no kissie-kissie, duck-the-slappie for him tonight.

“Nice paintings,” a man said.

“Thanks.” Calhoun nodded. “Been painting all my life.”

“You’ve done some beautiful work.” The short cowboy had a little daughter with him, Calhoun noticed, and he hoped the child wasn’t affected by all the nudes. She was pretty young, and she was busy with the cotton candy that was smudging her face with pink webs of sugar. Calhoun exercised his right to be friendly with the child. “Hey,” he said, lifting the girl onto a barrel so that she could sit and eat her cotton candy—and be out of range of the paintings while her father shopped. “Keep my chair warm for me, would you, princess?” he asked.

She giggled and smiled at him, and Calhoun felt momentarily sad that he couldn’t enjoy the company of Kenny and Minnie this way. They’d had a good repartee going—something he didn’t expect to have with young children—and he was surprised to find that he missed them.

“D
ID YOU SEE THAT
?” Kenny asked Minnie as they spied on Calhoun across the pavilion. “That little girl is shopping for Calhoun.”

“I don’t think so,” Minnie said, making certain their mother’s attention was on merchandise in one of the makeshift booths. “She has a father with her. Now if she had her mother with her, I’d say she might be shopping for him—”

“I don’t see why we can’t talk to him,” Kenny grumbled. “He’s nice.”

“Yeah.” Minnie certainly agreed that the cowboy was nice. So she understood Kenny’s concern. They’d sort of chosen Calhoun for themselves. And they didn’t like sharing, especially not with a little girl who was younger and cuter, who wore a pretty pink dress and white ankle socks with lacy edges, and who had blond ringlets and cotton candy.

Minnie’s lips pressed together as she looked down at her overalls and scuffed shoes. Did she remember to use her hairbrush today? Momma always said she should, and usually Momma made sure of it, but tonight her mind had been elsewhere, and Minnie had taken advantage of that to slip out without brushing. Self-consciously, she ran her hand over her long hair, smoothing it, then spit on her hand to flatten down Kenny’s hair.

“She’s already got a father,” Kenny said. “I want to go push her off that barrel.”

Minnie stopped her spit adjustment of Kenny’s bristly head. “She does seem to have everything.”
Feeling badly for her jealousy, she glanced toward her mother, who had moved to the next booth. “Sometimes life doesn’t feel quite fair.”