Shoulda Been A Cowboy (20 page)

Or so she'd thought.

“
I'm sorry too. Anton likes coming here. You
spoil him.”

Spending time with Anton didn't equal spoiled in
her book.

Anton raced into the kitchen. “Any cookies left?”

“
No. You ate them all.”

“
It's time to go home anyway. Get your
stuff,” Nadia said.

“
But we just got here!”

“
Domini has a life, Anton, don't whine.”

His chin fell to his chest.

“
Hey.” Domini tugged him until he was
sitting on her lap. “You are part of my life too. You'll
see me again soon.”

“
Promise?”

She smooched his head and laughed when he made a face.
“I promise. Now vamoose, both of you. I need to get beautified
for my date.”

 

An hour later Domini fussed in front of the mirror. Why
bother pinning her hair up? Cam would just undo it at the first
chance.

She tidied the kitchen, setting the plates in the dish
rack to dry as she waited for Cam to arrive.

Three distinctive raps echoed…forty-five minutes
later.

Domini opened the door.

Oh yum. Look at the sexy man on her doorstep. Double
yum. The spicy scent of aftershave drifted from the open collar of
his white button-down shirt. He wore dark blue jeans, combat boots
and a wolfish grin.

“
Excuse me?”

Domini's eyes met his. “Um. What?”

“
You said double yum and I'm wondering if
that's some kind of Ukrainian slang for ‘dumb ass you're
late'.”

“
No. That's American slang for you look and
smell yummy.”

Cam actually blushed. The man could fuck her like an
animal and demand all sorts of kinky things from her, but a
compliment caused him to blush? She bit back a grin. “Come in.
We must've been on the same wavelength because we even dressed
alike tonight.”

“
I've often thought about how you'd
look wearing my shirt…and nothin' else.”

“
Maybe later.” She kissed his smoothly
shaven cheek. “You want a beer?”

He groaned. “Shit. I was probably supposed to
bring you wine or flowers or something.”

“
You're fine.” In the kitchen she
passed a bottle to him. “Need a glass?”

“
Nope.” He rested his backside against the
counter and sipped.

She sipped.

Drip drip drip
echoed in the
silence.

“
What's wrong with that faucet?”

“
I don't know.”

“
How long's it been leaking?”

“
Since I moved in.”

Cam walked over and inspected it. “Just needs to
be tightened. Checked for corrosion. Your landlord oughta be able to
fix it pretty fast.”

“
Which would mean something if I'd ever seen
the landlord. I send rent checks to a post-office box in Denver.”

“
Huh.” Cam set down his beer. “I don't
suppose you have a toolbox around here?”

“
I think Colt or Blake left one in the utility
room.”

He left the kitchen and returned a couple minutes later
with a rusty-looking toolbox.

“
What are you doing?”

“
Fixing it.”

“
Cam. You don't have to do this.”

“
I want to. It'll just take a minute and
then we'll go, okay?”

“
Okay.”

He rummaged in the toolbox and fit the mouth of several
wrenches to the base, discarding each one with a loud clank until he
found the one that worked.

Cam muttered under his breath as he cranked the metal.
Once the handle was off, he took a small steel bristled brush and
scrubbed the inside. Domini couldn't see exactly what Cam was
doing, but it gave her an odd feeling of domesticity to see him with
his sleeves rolled up. She'd never had a guy around to do manly
things for her.

She sipped her beer as he reassembled the parts and
wrenched it all back together.

He grinned as he tested the handle. “See? No
leaks.”

“
You didn't have to do that, but thank you.”
She frowned at his chest. “Now you've got grease on that
shirt.”

Cam attempted to rub the spot away.

“
No! Don't do that. Take if off and I'll
get the stain out.”

“
Domini, you don't have to—”

“
I want to.” She began unbuttoning his
shirt. “After spending my life working in a restaurant, I know
a thing or two about removing grease stains.”

“
Or you just wanna get my shirt off,” he
drawled.

“
That's a side benefit. Or it would be if
you didn't always wear a T-shirt underneath everything. Maybe
you could skip it next time.” She waited while he peeled the
shirt off and handed it to her. “Be right back.”

Domini treated the stain and tossed it in the washer.
Cam casually leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest
defensively, not looking particularly happy.

“
What?”

“
I ain't exactly dressed for a night out.
Not that I was Mr. GQ before but…” He sighed. “I
always seem to fuck up.”

“
You haven't screwed up anything.” She
stopped in front of him and debated. If she ran her hands up his arms
would he see it as a sexual advance? Or the reassuring gesture she
intended?

Only one way to find out.

Domini set her palms on his biceps and perused the thick
muscles to the wide curve of his shoulder. When he didn't
flinch, she kept going until she reached his neck. With her hands at
the base of his jaw, she feathered her thumbs over his jawline. Every
inch of him was utterly masculine. Body. Face. Stance.

Cam didn't budge. He appeared to have quit
breathing. But he watched her, very closely, with those dark, hooded
eyes.

Her left thumb arced over his plump lower lip, and the
dip in his full upper lip. Then both together until Cam's damp
lips parted and she could feel the heat drifting from his mouth.

She shifted her hand to trace the hollowed shadow of his
cheek beneath his cheekbone. She caressed his temple with her
fingertips. His eyebrow. His hairline. That tender section of skin in
front of his ear.

Before Domini touched the other side of his face, she
locked her gaze to his. “Trust me. Let me.”

His long, dark lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes in
silent consent.

“
No. Open your eyes. I want you to look at me,
Cam. I want you to see it as I see it. I want you to watch me
touching you.”

Maybe she was a little surprised he'd obeyed.

Using a light touch, Domini followed the scar on the
left side of his face. She smoothed the jagged edges from the corner
of his mouth up to the ridged section where the scar hooked sharply.
Then she slowly tracked the bump where it cut back and the gouge was
deeper, the scar was thicker. She mapped every inch of his warrior's
mark until it ended at the apex of his eye socket.

Before Cam could speak, or before she lost her nerve,
Domini repeated the process with her mouth, scattering kisses from
top to bottom and finally pressing her lips to his.

As she kissed him, she reveled in the sweetness of his
surrender. Domini dropped her cheek to his chest, listening to the
strong, steady beat of Cam's heart.

After a bit, he said, “I really don't
want to go anywhere. But I imagine you're hungry since I was
damn near an hour late.”

“
I have a casserole in the freezer I could pop in
the oven.”

Cam tipped her chin up to look in her eyes. “You
sure?”

“
Yes. If you don't mind tuna casserole.”

“
I love homemade tuna casserole.”

If the domestic scene made Cam uncomfortable, he hid it
well. They ate. They cuddled up on the couch and watched TV. She
didn't attempt to wrestle the remote from his grasp. She didn't
attempt to turn his closeness into something sexual.

The DVD clock flashed eleven o'clock. Cam kissed
the top of her head and pushed to his feet. “I've gotta
go. My buddy Brock is gonna swing through on his way to Seattle
tomorrow.”

“
Thanks for a great date.”

He snorted. “Some date. You washed my shirt,
cooked me dinner, cleaned up and you didn't even get lucky.”

She felt very lucky to have him in her life, even
temporarily, but she'd never say it out loud.

Chapter Twelve

Gracie's barks forced Cam out of his easy chair.
He opened the sliding glass, allowing her to check out the visitor
from behind the safety of the fence in the backyard. Some guard dog.
Gracie would lick him to death.

Cam watched as Brock's bright red Audi TT putted
up the gravel driveway. Idiot babied that damn car. Although he
probably rodded the piss out of it as he zipped across the country.
Out here in the Wild West, where the paved roads were long and empty,
law enforcement officers had better things to do than issue speeding
tickets.

Didn't mean Cam wouldn't have enjoyed the
hell out of writing him a ticket just because he could.

Brock's six-foot two-inch frame unfolded from the
sports car. He wore his usual aviator shades, jungle print camo
pants, and combat boots. The difference between this uniform and his
official army uniform was the dark green tank top with “That's
MISTER Asshole to you” emblazoned on the front.

“
McKay, you ever gonna pave that goat path you
call a driveway?”

Cam grinned. “Nope. It wouldn't be an issue
if you drove a truck and not a wussy foreign car.”

“
Fuck off.” Brock scaled the stairs in two
giant steps. He dropped his duffel bag, threw his arms open. “What?
Ain't you gonna show me the love, bro?”

“
You're a scrawny thing, I didn't
wanna crush you.” Brock didn't allow one of those awkward
male hugs, where they barely touched, beat each other on the
back—hard—and then stepped away quickly. No. The bastard
actually hugged him.

“
I'm deeply touched by that sentiment,
Hop-along.” Brock pushed the shades on top of his closely
shaved head. His gaze swept Cam from crew cut to boots. “Seriously,
man, how you doing?”

“
Good.”

“
No issues with the new leg?”

Brock was one of the few people who'd seen Cam
right after the amputation surgery in Iraq. He was also one of the
few people Cam let visit him in Cheyenne during his rehab. Brock and
Keely were the only ones besides hospital personnel who'd seen
him without his prosthesis.

And now Domini was on that very short list.

Her tenderness and penchant for pleasing him was
disconcerting because it had nothing to do with sex. Things had
changed. Scary thing was, he wasn't sure if either of them were
ready for those changes so soon.

“
Cam? Buddy?”

Cam refocused. Although Domini was in the forefront of
his mind, he'd make a concentrated effort to keep her out of
any discussions with Brock today.

“
Yeah, sorry, I spaced out. The leg is good.”

“
You still running?”

“
Ten miles, every day.”

“
But you haven't tried one of those carbon
fiber legs with the funky S-shaped foot yet? Man, I saw a guy who'd
had both legs blown off in Afghanistan, and he could haul serious ass
when he had those babies strapped on. He was a regular bionic man.”

Cam snorted. “He'd have to be the six
million dollar man to pay for it, because those super high tech
prostheses are serious bank.”

Brock looked at him quizzically. “You telling me
the VA isn't ponying up cash for the latest advances in
prosthetics for our injured war veterans?”

“
That's exactly what I'm telling you.
And since I'm a low-paid public servant, I ain't rolling
in dough neither, so I'll be wearin' the leg I've
got for a long damn time.” Cam changed the subject. “Anything
you're burning to do today?”

“
Since a tumble in the hay with your sexy cowgirl
sister ain't in the cards, I'm up for other suggestions.”

“
You hungry?”

“
Nah.”

“
Been a while since I've taken the
four-wheelers out.”

“
Sounds good.” Brock hefted the strap of the
duffel bag over his shoulder. “Lemme dump my gear.”

They grabbed jackets before loading up. Gracie hopped on
her usual place on Cam's ATV and Brock shook his head.