I am Not Your Melody: (steamy cowboy romance) (8 page)

Bill’s body was immovable, a tree trunk against her palm. She wouldn’t have been able to turn him if she had tried. But she got what she wanted anyway when Bill snapped his head back toward her and faced her full on.

“Is this what you want?” he growled, stepping in closer to her. “You’re tellin’ me you ain’t
done
with me yet?”

“Don’t pull that ‘my house, my rules’ bullshit,” she said. “You’re the one who sold me an uninhabitable apartment. It’s your fault I’m here in the first place.”

“And you’re the one that showed up two weeks early.”

“Forget it,” she said.

He was right about that. And, she’d chosen to completely ignore everything he’d told her about needing to fix the apartment up first, because she’d thought it would be fine to rough it. Still, Bill needed to learn to talk to her nicely if they were going to be working together.

He couldn’t just be mean one moment, and then kiss her the next. There had to be an in between. A cordial business partner type of relationship.

“I’m too exhausted to fight,” Allie said. It wasn’t an apology or admission of being wrong, but it was her way of putting up a white flag, at least for now. “I think I need to take a nap and charge my phone before I can go back to start cleaning up the bar,” she admitted. “Is that…okay?”

“Are you asking my permission to fall asleep?” The anger faded from his face, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Allie laughed at the absurdity of it. “I guess I was,” she said. “I thought you’d like that…” Ooh, that sounded a touch too flirty. She tamped it down a notch. “I need to get out of the heels.”

Not much better. What was it about the heat of an argument that made Bill seem so…sexy to her? It must be his testosterone rising — she could sense it. Hormones, nothing more. She kicked off her heels right where she stood, and picked them up to bring into her room.

Bill looked at her. “Now you’re even tinier,” he mused. “You’re gonna get a crick in your neck starin’ up at me all the time like that, you know.”

He was too handsome for his own good. Thank goodness he was an asshole as well — that made it easier not to want to mix business with pleasure. Though Allie couldn’t ignore the tiny voice inside that suggested a little fling after the painful separation from her former husband would be nice. As long as she didn’t let her heart get involved. And as long as they kept the business out of it.

No. Bill was clearly still tortured by memories of Melody. He probably had no desire to start up a “friends with benefits” sort of deal. But were they ever friends at all? Or had they gone from emailing about business to flirting online? But he sure looked like he’d be amazing in bed.

Stop that.

She turned and walked into her room and shut the door. As long as she could actually sleep in this stranger’s house (that’s what he was, no need to think otherwise), in his dead wife’s bed, then she’d be ready to tackle cleaning up the mess she could now proudly call fifty percent her own. And no matter what, she absolutely wouldn’t let herself dream about how amazing working with Bill would be, if only they could both avoid either killing each other, or sleeping with each other.

Either one seemed like a real possibility at this point.

***

Bill sat heavily on the couch in the living room, his hand automatically running across the cracks in the leather along the back. The leather was seriously beat up, with worn spots and scratches. The nice thing about it, though, was at least no one was afraid of messing it up. When the guys came ‘round to visit and fill him in on the goings-on at the ranch, they were glad to have a place to kick up their cowboy boots after a long day on the mountain or working with the cattle.

It was a bit early in the season for the fireplace, but staring into the dancing flames always soothed his soul. It was better than TV (at least he thought so, but then again he didn’t have a TV). The only problem with sitting on his couch was the vantage point: looking straight at the room where Allie slept.

How many nights had he done the same thing, over two years ago? Just staring at that shut door, wishing his wife would come out and simply… sit on that busted couch with him. It wasn’t fair to expect her to love him the way he did her — how do you match something so strong that the loss of it nearly killed him now?

Melody had never truly loved Bill, she’d even admitted it herself. Their shotgun wedding after she got pregnant from a one night stand resulted in a miscarriage less than three months later. She was different after that, she pulled away, and any talk of their future together was gone. At least when they had the idea of a baby to keep them together, she’d been able to hold onto that hope that she might learn to love her husband. As for Bill, he’d fallen fast. She’d been so kind, so tall, so beautiful. And knowing that she had his child growing inside of her had made him fiercely protective of her.

It’s not Melody in there anyway
. Forget about it.

No, it certainly wasn’t Melody — silent, depressed Melody. She’d hated living on the ranch with him, hated collecting the eggs from the chickens, tending to the garden. She wouldn’t even go near even his most gentle horses. Zach, Eric, Jay, and Chris had done everything in their power to make her feel at home on the ranch as well, but nothing worked. She’d retreated further and further into her shell.

On the night she’d left him to go stay at her mother’s house — even her own separate bedroom wasn’t far enough from Bill for her — the fateful night she swerved in front of some poor trucker on his way home, and died. When Bill heard the devastating news, he’d wondered if she’d done it on purpose.

He still wondered.

Melody was the closest thing he’d had to a relationship with a woman that went beyond the few dates and sex. But could it truly have been love when the other person didn’t love you back?

It was strange to have another woman in the house, especially since Allie was the exact opposite of Melody. She was feisty and loud where Melody was not, even short when Melody was tall. Allie had kissed him with such passion, but Melody had stopped even pretending to want or desire him, her own husband.

So he needed to stop looking at that door and imagining that Melody was behind it.

Allie was her own woman — the kind of woman Bill had never imagined himself feeling attracted to, despite the fact that seeing her name in his inbox had been the highlight of his day for the past several months. Yet here he was, interrupting himself when he was with her just to look at her, to hear her shout or whisper or feel her brush up against him…

No, Allie was no longer just an unseen confidant, no longer solely the woman he’d befriended online sight-unseen. She was
here
, right behind that door, in person.

What would happen between them, now that their relationship had been brought into real life?

Chapter Seven

When Allie woke up, it was to a rooster crow at dawn.

She shot up in bed. What the heck had happened? She’d only meant to take a little nap.

That was a whole half-day wasted last night, when she could have been cleaning up the bar. Apparently Bill had let her just sleep all the way through till morning, She must’ve really needed the sleep after all that driving, so it was probably a good thing.

And she wouldn’t have wanted him waking her up, right? That would’ve involved him coming into her room while she slept, seeing her so vulnerable like that. She didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of Bill. He needed to learn as fast as possible that having half-ownership with her meant she was also the boss. Not only him — in
addition
to him.

Two bosses; that could work, why not?

She peered her head out the guest room door, but didn’t see him. The cabin was small enough that if he was there, she’d know.

“Bill? Are you here?” she called, just to be sure.

No reply.

Allie grabbed her toiletry bag and went into the bathroom, with its river-rock floor and shower stall. No tub.

When she was all showered, dressed (sensibly this time, in jeans and a tank-top with a sweater for the early-morning chill), and ready to get to work, Allie walked down the driveway that would eventually lead her to the gravel road to the farmhouse.

It felt good to walk. In Miami, she’d been afraid of the very real threat of getting mugged… or worse. There had been too many stories on the news about crimes against early-morning female joggers (and in one recent instance, a woman just waiting for her bus). That and the sticky, humid heat of Florida had always kept Allie from exercising outdoors.

But here in Bear Creek Saddle, the air was crisp and smelled of cows, grass, and manure, (which wasn’t nearly as disgusting as she’d have imagined it would be). Maybe she was just getting used to it? Either way, the walking helped clear her mind.

By the time she’d reached the farmhouse, she was glowing with excitement and ready to start fixing up her bar.

“Good mornin’, Allie.”

She turned at the voice and saw Bill, walking slowly in front of Pirate, leading his wild stallion that had nearly killed her the day before. Pirate had blinders on, so he couldn’t see her, she imagined. They were behind a post-and-rail fence, but if Pirate decided to crash through it to escape, nothing would stop him. Just like that moose — Pirate had a lot of unbridled, pure power. He could do anything before Bill would be able to stop him.

Allie’s stomach flipped at the thought.

“Good morning,” she said. “Thanks for letting me sleep all night — I needed it.”

Pirate tried to look at her, but Bill gave him some big lumpy sugar cubes and kept him moving.

“I could tell,” Bill said with a laugh. “By the time you went to lay down, I couldn’t tell if you were going to kill me, kiss me again, or collapse.”

“It’s like you read minds,” she said. “Those were all options on the table, definitely.”

The fact that he’d said that though… that meant he could see that she’d been flirting with him shamelessly. That was horrible.

Or was it? He was laughing about it now, after all.

“When I’m super-tired, I may as well be super-drunk,” she said, shrugging. “I say silly things, so don’t think I meant anything by it.”

Bill offered more sugar to Pirate to keep him following his lead. It was a simple task, to walk around, but the trust involved was staggering. How long had he been working with Pirate?

“Don’t worry about me,” she offered. “I haven’t killed a single person yet, and I haven’t kissed a man since my husband ran off with his secretary.”

“I’m honored to be your first, then,” he said.

She flushed and covered her mouth with her hand. She hadn’t meant to bring up all that about her ex again, and yet the words had just escaped her as if of their own accord.

“Forget I mentioned that,” she mumbled.

It was embarrassing to talk about her former husband’s infidelity. It made her feel like maybe it was her fault. That if she’d been a better wife, he never would have strayed in the first place.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said. “I know what it’s like to have a long dry spell.”

Allie laughed nervously. If there were a convenient cave to hide in, she’d like to find it.

Bill kept walking, slowly, the huge black horse like a chained giant behind him, able to break free of his bonds at any time, but choosing not to. Why? Just for a lump of sugar?

“I told you yesterday that we couldn’t start over,” Bill said, not looking at her. He was focused on working with Pirate. “But you can forget I said that, too.”

“Thank you,” Allie said. “That means a lot.”

Bill glanced over at her and tipped his hat in acknowledgement.

His black cowboy hat. The same hat that he’d left on her dresser top when he first showed her the room — the hat she’d fallen asleep staring at, thinking of him.

Wait a minute…

Allie took a deep breath. “You went into my room while I was sleeping.”

Bill stopped, letting Pirate walk without him. While Pirate picked up the pace, getting some of his energy out, Bill walked over to the wooden fence.

“I didn’t touch you,” he said, taking off his hat and wiping his brow.

A lock of dark hair dropped into his gray eyes, and Allie had to fight the urge to smooth it away for him.

“But you looked at me. For how long? Did you watch me sleep?”

A muscle in Bill’s jaw flexed. “I went in, grabbed my hat, and left. I may have taken a peek at you, just to make sure you were still breathin’, that’s all.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t be breathing?”

Bill shrugged. “Just a stupid habit from when I’d check on Melody, that’s all. I’d poke my head in to check on her. I did the same to you by accident.”

“Okay,” Allie whispered. “I’m not mad. But…I’m not Melody.”

Bill’s gaze faltered. “Hang on.”

He jumped up onto and then over the fence, landing at her feet. Still looking at her, he pulled out his phone.

“Zach, Pirate’s done for the morning.” Bill paused and held up his finger to Allie, as if to say “one sec.”

Bill hung up and pocketed his cell. His long, muscular legs seemed to have grown right out of the earth, like he’d been working on that ranch for so long, he wouldn’t know what else to do if he tried.

And yet now he was going to work side by side with her to get the bar open. Allie was the one with five years of experience both as a bartender and a manager. She should be the one in charge. But when he’d said they could start over, that probably didn’t mean forgetting her admit she had no clue how to renovate a building.

It was Bill who knew how to build houses by hand, how to raise barns and construct chicken coops, and repair everything on his sprawling ranch. She needed him.

They needed each other.

“I wanted to go to the bar and get to work,” Allie said. “But I need access to the business checking account first.” She held her breath, hoping she wouldn’t have to pull out the big guns again (her wrath and the contract) to get him to hand her his check book.