This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) (6 page)

Just as she accepted the call, Ethan opened the door.

With his damp hair slicked back, it looked darker, more like the dusting of hair visible above the waistband of his jeans. Which she could swear now rode even lower on his hips than before.

“Sophie? You there?”

“Yeah. What’s up?” She started to turn, then decided she’d rather keep an eye on him. He really needed to put his shirt on.

“I thought I’d hear from you by now,” Lola said. “Where are you?”

“Blackfoot Falls. I texted you when I arrived.”

“Yeah, two hours ago. Have you seen him yet?”

“Yes.” She watched him open the closet and pull out a duffel bag. He appeared to be ignoring her, but she wasn’t stupid. He was listening, hoping to hear something he could use to his advantage. Fine. As long as he stayed quiet.

“And?” Lola’s impatience came through.

“I’ll have to call you later.”

“Got it. Just tell me this,” Lola said. “Will you be able to pick him up tonight?”

She swallowed. “No.”

Ethan turned in time to see her wince. Or maybe her voice had given away her guilt over the lie. He studied her a moment before swinging his bag onto the bed and sorting through his clothes.

Lola was still there—Sophie could hear the police scanner her cousin liked to keep on low volume in the background—but she hadn’t said boo.

“Okay.” Sophie swallowed. “Give me an hour.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Lola’s voice had softened. “This turning out harder than you thought it would?”

Sophie sighed. Her head hurt, as did every lying bone in her body. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I can do this.” She realized what she’d said and spun to face the window. It was too late. Ethan had heard. “Gotta go.”

She disconnected, then stared out at Main Street until she was satisfied no telltale blush stained her cheeks.

Ethan was watching her when she turned to him. He gave her a small crooked smile that didn’t help at all.

“I have to move my car and get my bag,” she said with deliberate gruffness. “You going to be here when I get back?”

“I gave you my word.”

“Okay.” She glanced around, pretending to search for the keys she knew were sitting under her jacket. “Guess I’ll just have to hope that means something to you.”

“I expect so,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t like his integrity questioned. “Mind picking up a six-pack? There’s a market at the other end of Main.” He dug deep in his pocket, pushing the jeans down another inch before producing a twenty.

It occurred to her that he was trying to buy time by sending her to the store. Not likely. She believed his word did matter to him. And even if she was wrong, he knew he’d be a sitting duck tomorrow, so why bother disappearing now?

She grabbed her jacket and keys. “What kind?”

“Your choice.”

Sophie laughed. “You’re not getting me drunk.”

“Sharing a six-pack? I didn’t think so.”

Funny, she didn’t remember him having such an intense stare. It made her jumpy. She spotted the room key and scooped it up as she passed him.

He caught her arm. “You forgot this,” he said, trying to give her the money.

“My treat.” She pulled away. His touch had given her goose bumps she didn’t want him to see. “A condemned man always gets a last meal.”

Ethan’s slow smile wasn’t altogether pleasant. “I was going to be a gentleman and sleep on the floor. Not anymore. We’re sharing the bed.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said with a toss of her hair, and then fled the room before she hyperventilated.

6

F
UZZY
WITH
SLEEP
, Ethan opened his eyes to slits, just enough to see if the room was dark or if morning was trying to sneak in. He wasn’t a big believer in alarm clocks and only used them if he had to.

Still black as night. Good.

Yawning, he changed positions and tried to get comfortable. The mattress wasn’t bad, but not great, either. He lifted his lids again, trying to remember where he was...

Not Sioux City. That was last month.

Ah, Blackfoot Falls.

That’s right...the Safe Haven Rodeo.

The shock of seeing the steel handcuffs dangling from the bedpost jerked him awake. Memories of a dark-haired beauty teased him. Not just any beauty, but the girl he remembered from Wattsville High.

He looked over his shoulder at Sophie. Her long brown hair was everywhere, and so was the rest of her. One arm was thrown out clear to his pillow while she slept partially on her side, her body slightly curled away from him. Her left leg was straight, but her right leg bent at the knee, bringing her foot up near his ass.

How could someone her size take up most of the bed?

No wonder he felt cramped and achy. He needed more room to stretch out.

He rolled over to give her a gentle nudge but stopped. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but he couldn’t see much with her other arm plopped over her face. Her chin was visible, and so were those damn pouty lips that had distracted him as a teenager and were doing a number on him now.

Ethan had a feeling she underestimated how sexy she was. More so now that she was in her twenties and had filled out. He smiled at the oversize U of Wyoming T-shirt and men’s plaid pajama pants that couldn’t hide her curvy body. Sophie had insisted on sleeping on top of the covers while he stayed cozy under the sheet and blanket. As if that would’ve stopped them from doing anything if the mood had struck.

Hell, the mood had struck plenty. At least for him. He just refused to do anything about it.

Sophie was the sort of trouble he needed to avoid. Not because she wanted to drag him back to Wyoming, although the phony accusation bullshit was something he had to straighten out. Sophie herself was the problem. That nice toned body and gorgeous face would turn any man’s head, so, yeah, the packaging didn’t hurt, but half the women following the tour fit that description.

But he couldn’t think of a single one who had Sophie’s keen curious brown eyes. The kind a man could stare into and know he was in for a real interesting ride. Hell, he knew he’d get thrown before it was all over, maybe even stomped on. But for as long as he managed to stay in the saddle, he sure wouldn’t be bored.

He liked that she wore her hair longer now, past her shoulders and kind of messy. What he liked most was that she didn’t seem to give a shit how it looked. Which had been pretty bad when she pulled the wig off. Any other woman he knew, including his grandmother, would’ve fixed it until it was just so. But not Sophie, and when she tossed back all that long hair, it was with impatience. She sure wasn’t flirting.

Another thing that struck him as sexy was the way she walked. Slow and easy. And with that almost-smile teasing her lips. That was why he’d noticed her in the bar. He hadn’t recognized her then. But it was the same understated sexiness that had gotten her bullied in school.

Unfortunately Ethan might’ve had something to do with the bullying, too.

She shifted in her sleep, making a soft throaty sound that got his cock’s attention.

God, he wanted to touch her.

The thought had barely flickered when she pulled her arm from his pillow, effectively removing his best excuse. And then she turned completely over on her side, her body curling away from him so that he couldn’t see her face.

Well, shit.

No, he was better off staying away. This close to the finals he needed her cooperation more than he needed anything else she could offer. Because he still wasn’t convinced that he shouldn’t head straight to Vegas while his agent figured things out.

Statistically the odds were against him winning another championship title. At twenty-nine he was getting too old. He had to compete against younger riders. The guys who made it to the top ten were mostly in their mid-twenties. Very few guys close to his age had claimed the title in the past fifteen years. And lately, each time he strained his left shoulder, it took longer to heal.

Damn, he wanted that second title. He wished he could say winning was strictly about funding the rodeo camp he was eager to build. But his pride was equally invested in getting that buckle for the family trophy case. His sister had a good chance of claiming another title this year. The little shit wouldn’t let him forget that she’d shown him up. He knew Cara didn’t really mean anything with all the jabs. In their family, competitiveness was a sport unto itself.

He stared at the back of Sophie’s head, then followed the line of her body, the dip at her waist, the narrow strip of exposed skin where her shirt had ridden up, the curve of her hip.

Her hair had spread to his pillow and he picked up a lock. Rubbed the silkiness between his thumb and forefinger. He hadn’t expected it to be this soft. Or to smell faintly of roses. He figured she’d be into something more edgy, spicier. But the floral scent was nice, too.

This wasn’t doing him any favors. His heart started pumping faster. He should be trying to go back to sleep, not letting himself get worked up. Had to be close to sunrise. Turning his head, he searched for the time. The small bedside clock reflected the old boardinghouse feel. It was useless in the dark.

He could flip on the lamp. Instead he rolled back to face Sophie. She hadn’t moved. He didn’t think she was faking sleep, either. She would’ve tugged down her shirt and covered herself.

Hell. She was just too tempting.

Ethan inched closer. He listened to her steady even breathing before sliding in to spoon her. She didn’t move, not one tiny muscle. He’d half expected a startled jerk, or an elbow to his ribs. Was she used to sleeping with someone? Maybe she had a boyfriend. Yeah, probably. Why wouldn’t she?

Now, why did that idea rub him the wrong way? He hadn’t seen her in over ten years. And he’d barely known her then. What did he care if she was involved with someone?

He waited a moment and then carefully put an arm around her waist. She’d stubbornly refused to take the blanket, and now her skin was cool. A lit candle would do a better job than the overtaxed heater.

Sophie moved suddenly. Just when he thought he was about to get busted, she wiggled back until they were touching from knees to chest. Her body was instinctively seeking warmth, and he was fine with that. But if she were to wake up right now, she’d blame him for where she’d stuck her sweet round bottom. And slap him into next year.

It would be worth it.

Tightening his arm, he buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes. She was soft and sweet. They fit together real well. It felt so nice having her in his arms that maybe he could get a couple more hours of sleep. He settled in and she pressed her backside closer. His damn boner would be the thing that woke her.

“What time is it?” she murmured, her voice husky.

Ethan braced himself. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, waiting for her to go all out ninja on him.

Slipping her small hand in his, she let out a soft contented sigh.

The moment passed. Her breathing returned to steady and even. Ethan closed his eyes again, hoping for sleep. So he’d quit wondering whom Sophie thought was snuggled against her.

* * *

S
OPHIE
SQUINTED
INTO
the sunlight that managed to creep in between the drapes and hit her in the face. Morning was always her favorite time of the day. She took pride in being one of those annoyingly energetic people who jumped out of bed ready to conquer the world.

Today she felt sluggish. No, that wasn’t right. The feeling was more pleasant. Warm. Comfy. Safe. Was she coming out of a dream? Smiling, she closed her eyes again and snuggled down under the weight of a—

Her eyes popped open.

She pushed the arm off and shot up from the bed.

“What the—” Ethan lifted a hand to block the sun now shining in his face. He rolled onto his back, rubbing his shoulder and frowning at her. “Christ, you damn near took my arm off.”

“Don’t put it where it doesn’t belong.” Sophie tugged down her T-shirt, then remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Huh?” His expression dazed, he seemed to be having trouble focusing on her. He was still under the blanket, his lower half, anyway. Okay, so he must’ve been sleeping and hadn’t pressed against her on purpose.

She could see how that might happen. He was probably used to having a different woman in his bed every night. Arms folded across her chest, she headed for the bathroom.

It was too cool in the room. She vaguely remembered trying to adjust the thermostat last night, for all the good it had done. Since the inn had been recently renovated, she would’ve expected a better heater. Tonight she was using the blanket. Ethan could just—

No. Tonight they’d be long gone. Headed back to Wyoming. No more negotiating. Someday Ethan would realize she was doing him a favor. His best shot at making the finals was to show up in court Monday.

After taking care of more urgent business, she turned on the shower. The water didn’t have to be hot, just warm. That was all she asked. And since she’d stupidly forgotten her bag, if it were to suddenly appear, that would be great, too. Fresh out of magic wishes, she sighed and opened the bathroom door, then made a dash for the leather carry-on she’d left by the closet.

Ethan didn’t say a word and she risked a look at him. He was lying on his stomach, arms around his bunched pillow, his face buried. No shirt. She paused just inside the bathroom to admire his well-defined shoulders and back. He had to keep himself in good shape to ride bulls. But she was glad he didn’t go overboard like so many guys she knew at the gym.

His elbow moved and she hurriedly closed the door. First, she tested the water. A bit warmer would’ve been more to her liking, but she wasn’t complaining. She stripped off her clothes and got under the spray.

Damn, she shouldn’t have been so hasty to leap out of bed. Of course she’d had no way of knowing he was asleep. But if she’d lain still a few seconds to find out, it would’ve been nice to feel his arm around her. To bask in his heat, maybe touch him and pretend...

Oh, brother.
Did she want him to carry her books and save her a seat at lunch, too? She was almost twenty-seven, had pretty much taken care of her mom and herself after her father left on Sophie’s fourteenth birthday, and she had a master’s degree in computer science. So how was it that she could stay stuck at fifteen when it came to Ethan?

She finished showering, dried off and got dressed without once letting her mind stray from the day ahead. The rodeo started at two. Whether he liked it or not, she was waking his ass up right now. She wanted him packed, their bags stowed in her Jeep and both of them ready to go the minute his event was finished.

Breathing in deeply, she reminded herself she was a warrior, not a silly schoolgirl. She grabbed her bag and flung the door open. Ready for whatever he—

The bed was empty.

Sophie blinked. Panic rushed through her. “Son of a bitch.”

“Looking for me?”

She turned toward the sound of his voice. He stood to her left pulling a shirt out of the closet with a look of amusement. “The bathroom’s all yours,” she muttered, and set her bag on the bed so she could rummage through it.

Somewhere in the mishmash of clothes and toiletries was a Ziploc bag with a tube of mascara, an eyeliner pencil and lip gloss. She found it and saw a couple of blush samples the saleswoman at the makeup counter had given her some months back, maybe a year. Sophie wondered if they were still good.

She felt him watching her and looked up. “Need something?”

He shook his head, his gaze narrowed. “You didn’t have to rush. If you still need time in there,” he said with a nod at the bathroom. “No problem.”

“Nope. Go for it.”

“Okay.” He drawled out the word, but it was his faint smile that made her think she should be worried. He pulled out jeans and socks from his duffel. “I’ll be quick so we’ll have time to grab some breakfast.”

“Fine. I’ll run to the Food Mart now while you—”

“We’re going to the diner,” he said, walking over to her and forcing her chin up. “So you’ll probably want to fix your face.”

Sophie gasped. She reared back and shoved his hand away. “Forgive me for not meeting your standards.”

He looked confused. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, and had the nerve to sound frustrated.

“Go. Take your shower.” She turned back to her bag, trying to hide her disappointment and hurt.

The second he closed the bathroom door, she sank onto the edge of the bed. Screw him. The stupid insensitive jerk. She pushed her fingers through her damp hair, working past the tangles and wincing at each tug on her scalp.

She eyed the bag beside her. She doubted she had a mirror, and even if she did she’d hate herself for caring enough to look. He thought she should fix her face? Asshole.

Gee, she wondered if she looked sufficiently presentable to pick up breakfast at the Food Mart. He could forget about the diner.

All of a sudden she felt totally drained. The kind of bone-deep exhaustion that followed an adrenaline high. Great. So much for getting a good start for Wyoming tonight.

How could Ethan have said something so hurtful?

She fell back on the mattress and rubbed her eyes. After a pot of coffee and some protein, she’d feel better. She wouldn’t let the remark bother her.

She had to stay sharp, remember her objective. Pulling herself into a sitting position, she glanced at the clock.

No way. It couldn’t be almost noon.

She yanked her phone from the charger and stared at the numbers. This wasn’t possible. She’d never slept so late in her life. Never. Last night she drank one beer. Read for an hour while Ethan watched TV. The moment he’d fallen asleep, she got into bed and conked out herself around midnight.