Rolling Like Thunder
Rolling Like Thunder
Vicki Lewis Thompson
The last cowboy… All work and no play makes Finn a dull cowboy. Since his divorce, Finn O'Roarke has put all of his time into his Seattle-based microbrewery, unaware that back in Wyoming, his foster parents are on the verge of ruin. Now Finn and his foster brothers are trying to save Thunder Mountain Ranch–and only one woman can help them turn it all around.Marketing guru Chelsea Trask has had a thing for the gorgeous brewer for ages. When they work together at Thunder Mountain Ranch, however, she starts to see Finn's cowboy side. And it's irresistibly hot. Best of all, the attraction that's been sizzling beneath the surface has erupted in some very sexy situations. But is Chelsea falling for the real Finn…or for the cowboy he used to be?
The last cowboy...
All work and no play makes Finn a dull cowboy. Since his divorce, Finn O’Roarke has put all of his time into his Seattle-based microbrewery, unaware that back in Wyoming, his foster parents are on the verge of ruin. Now Finn and his foster brothers are trying to save Thunder Mountain Ranch—and only one woman can help them turn it all around.
Marketing guru Chelsea Trask has had a thing for the gorgeous brewer for ages. When they work together at Thunder Mountain Ranch, however, she starts to see Finn’s cowboy side. And it’s irresistibly hot. Best of all, the attraction that’s been sizzling beneath the surface has erupted in some very sexy situations. But is Chelsea falling for the real Finn...or for the cowboy he used to be?
Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson (#ulink_37136c6e-bbfc-558a-9cf3-0fabb94fbead)
“Cowboy Up is a sexy joy ride, balanced with good-natured humor and Thompson’s keen eye for detail. Another sizzling romance from the RT Reviewers’ Choice award winner for best Blaze.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Vicki Lewis Thompson has compiled a tale of this terrific family, along with their friends and employees, to keep you glued to the page and ending with that warm and loving feeling.”
—Fresh Fiction on Cowboys and Angels
“Intensely romantic and hot enough to singe...her Sons of Chance series never fails to leave me worked up from all the heat, and then sighing with pleasure at the happy endings!”
—We Read Romance on Riding High
“If I had to use one word to describe Ambushed! it would be charming... Where the story shines and how it is elevated above others is the humor that is woven throughout.”
—Dear Author
“The chemistry between Molly and Ben is off the charts: their first kiss is one of the best I’ve ever read, and the sex is blistering and yet respectful, tender and loving.”
—Fresh Fiction on A Last Chance Christmas
Dear Reader (#ulink_19636010-51c5-577e-a490-ae63021ed9b9),
As a card-carrying member of Workaholics Anonymous, I completely identify with Finn O’Roarke. He brews beer for a living and I write stories, but we’re from the same tribe. We get a whole lot accomplished, but we can’t seem to locate the off switch.
Because of that, I loved hauling Finn from his microbrewery in Seattle to his cowboy roots in Wyoming so he could rediscover the simple joys of ranch life and maybe even allow himself to fall in love. The core values he learned as a foster kid at Thunder Mountain Ranch might be the very things that save him from himself.
And for those of you who loved my Sons of Chance series, I have a treat for you in this book. You’ll get to revisit the Last Chance Ranch and catch up with some of your old friends. I promised that the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood series would intersect with the Sons of Chance series here and there, and this is one of those times!
So grab a cool drink and a shady spot because I have plenty to tell you and you won’t want to miss a single thing. You especially won’t want to miss the moment when Finn realizes it’s time to cowboy up!
Your devoted storyteller,
Rolling Like Thunder
Vicki Lewis Thompson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A passion for travel has taken New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON to Europe, Great Britain, the Greek isles, Australia and New Zealand. She’s visited most of North America and has her eye on South America’s rainforests. Africa, India and China beckon. But her first love is her home state of Arizona, with its deserts, mountains, sunsets and—last but not least—cowboys! The wide-open spaces and heroes on horseback influence everything she writes. Connect with her at vickilewisthompson.com (http://www.vickilewisthompson.com), facebook.com/vickilewisthompson (http://www.facebook.com/vickilewisthompson) and twitter.com/vickilthompson (http://www.twitter.com/vickilthompson).
To Wendy Delaney, fellow author and awesome Seattle friend. If O’Roarke’s Brewhouse existed, we’d meet there for a drink!
Contents
Cover (#u5057cbc7-a121-5f2b-a74d-855aab965d23)
Back Cover Text (#u379c5bfa-c713-5d47-a123-0f4308d8f3ac)
Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson (#ulink_b83f83a7-de79-5c8d-b97f-06b9fc3feced)
Dear Reader (#ulink_20b26ec2-cb18-58aa-9257-a8315845b5ba)
Title Page (#u28dc23de-e98a-50b6-b1d4-80f868c13667)
About the Author (#ucbc9cd9a-5fb2-57f8-af20-558e6b0202b5)
Dedication (#u6ce74198-933c-5f23-bd39-943a73ee2768)
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1 (#ulink_fe1e0b4e-c33a-52c8-9b81-c583369d195f)
FINN O’ROARKE SCANNED the boarding area for the umpteenth time. First class was already on the plane and still no Chelsea. He would have gladly picked her up instead of meeting her here, but they hadn’t been able to agree on timing. He preferred early and she liked to cut it close.
Too damned close. Good thing he didn’t fly with her on a regular basis, because this kind of thing would drive him...ah! There she was. He exhaled and promised himself not to say a word. She was doing him a favor by making this trip.
With a roller bag behind her and a laptop case over her shoulder, she walked toward the boarding area with her typical “I have the world by the tail” stride. She wasn’t tall but she dressed tall—skinny black jeans, high-heeled sandals and a multicolored tunic belted around her hips. Her light blond hair, recently streaked with lavender, swayed gently with each confident step.
As she came closer, she surveyed the crowd waiting near the Jetway and her brown eyes widened when she spotted him. She hurried over. “Holy smokes, you’re dressed like a cowboy! I did not expect that.”
At one time Finn would have been annoyed. But after owning a Seattle microbrewery and tavern for nearly five years, he didn’t think of himself as a cowboy anymore. He couldn’t very well expect her to think of him that way, either.
But they’d be spending time at the Last Chance Ranch in Jackson Hole this weekend. Finn had never seen it, but he’d heard plenty of stories. The Chance family was royalty in Wyoming.
So he’d hauled out his dove-gray Stetson, his yoked Western shirts, his Wranglers and his black boots. He gazed at Chelsea and shrugged. “We’re making our presentation to ranch people. It seemed like a good idea.”
“Should I have done that, too? If so, I’m screwed. I have these sandals and gym shoes. That’s it.”
“No worries, Chels. You’ll be fine.” He thought she looked more than fine. He’d known from the moment they’d met in a coffee shop five years ago that she was too cool and stylish for him.
But meeting her had been a gift. She was a PR and marketing whiz. After listening to his plan for a microbrewery and tavern in downtown Seattle, she’d suggested a Kickstarter crowdfunding campaign to renovate an old building slated for demolition. Then she’d offered to help him for a percentage. He’d saved the building and launched O’Roarke’s Brewhouse thanks to Chelsea Trask.
This trip would put him even more in her debt. His foster parents, Herb and Rosie Padgett, were in financial trouble and could lose the ranch where Finn and many other homeless boys had found refuge. A group of them were trying to save it, and because Chelsea knew Finn’s background and admired the Padgetts, she’d agreed to help him once again.
Thanks to Chelsea, a Kickstarter campaign had been launched in June for Thunder Mountain Academy, a residential equine education program geared toward teens. But the September 1 deadline for donations was less than two weeks away and they were thousands shy of the goal. Everybody connected with it, including Finn, had begun to panic.
This weekend was make-or-break time. Cade Gallagher, once a foster boy and one of Finn’s best friends, had recently discovered he was a Chance cousin. Because of that family tie, Finn and Chelsea had been invited to pitch the concept to potential TMA backers at a gathering hosted by the Chances. Chelsea was the pro, so she’d run the event, but Finn would also talk about the debt he owed Thunder Mountain Ranch.
As the first economy-class group was called to board the plane, Chelsea gave Finn another once-over. “It’s probably good that you’re all decked out like that.”
“I’m glad you approve.” He decided not to let the “all decked out” comment bother him, either. Coming from Chelsea, that was a relatively mild dig. When she was wound up, she could really turn on the snark. She’d been irritated with him for months, which made working together on this project somewhat awkward.
Apparently she’d expected them to get together after his divorce from Alison last year, but she, of all people, should have realized that he was married to his business, which was why Alison had left. Yeah, he’d had his share of hot dreams starring Chelsea, but he had no intention of turning them into reality.
Guaranteed if they got together, it’d disrupt his careful routine right when he needed to concentrate all his energy on keeping the microbrewery solvent. The divorce had been expensive. Besides, he’d proved himself incapable of running a business and maintaining a relationship. He’d told her that when he’d turned down her dinner invitation, but she hadn’t taken it well.
Because they’d bought their plane tickets late, they’d be in the last group to board, so she had time to study him. “I remember the hat and boots from when we did the photo shoot for the Men of Thunder Mountain calendar, but that was a deliberate beefcake shirtless shot. This is more subtle, but effective.”
“Effective for what?” He’d suffered through the photo session last month because some genius had decided Thunder Mountain Academy needed a calendar as a giveaway to backers. Chelsea had volunteered to take his picture rather than having him waste time flying to Wyoming.
“Image.” She gave him another assessing glance. “While my PowerPoint presentation is running, you can stand there looking like a guy who can ride and rope with the best of them—all the things they plan to teach students at Thunder Mountain Academy.”
Okay, he couldn’t let that go. “As it happens, I can ride and rope. Maybe not with the best of them anymore because I’m out of practice, but I’d be decent.”
“I’m sure you would.” Her gaze warmed briefly before she broke eye contact. “Hey, that’s us.” She waved her boarding pass. “Time to rock and roll.”
“Right.” She’d captured his attention so completely that he’d missed the announcement. Perfect example of how she distracted him. Adjusting the shoulder strap of his laptop case and grasping the handle of his wheeled bag, he followed her.
Chelsea could sure stir him up. Now he had the adolescent urge to actually do some riding and roping on this trip just to prove to her that he could. Not at the Last Chance, of course, but they’d planned to drive over to Thunder Mountain Ranch for a few days afterward so she could look over the setup for TMA.
After all the work she’d put into nurturing the idea and giving advice—all gratis—she deserved to see the ranch and meet his foster parents. They were eager to meet her, too. He wondered if she rode. He’d never asked.
As they entered the plane a blonde flight attendant smiled at him. “Great hat.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He was out of the habit of using ma’am, but he’d unconsciously lapsed into it.
“I’d be glad to store it up front for you.”
“That would be great.” He took it off and handed it to her.
“My pleasure.” She gave him another brilliant smile. “I’ll take good care of it.”
“I surely appreciate that.” Yep. He was back to talking like a cowboy.
By the time he caught up with Chelsea, she was struggling to get her roller bag into the overhead compartment, so he helped her. She muttered her thanks and he slid his own in next to it before taking his seat.
The plane was configured with two seats on one side of the aisle and three on the other, and Chelsea had managed to snag the two-seat side when she’d made their reservations. She’d requested the window, which was fine with him because he preferred the aisle.
Once they were buckled in, she turned to him. “‘Thank you, ma’am’?”
“I swear it’s the hat. I put it on and my words come out different.”
“You wore it for the photo shoot and I didn’t notice you calling me ma’am.”
He laughed. “That’s because you were torturing me by making me hold a beer keg on my bare shoulder for hours on end.”
“Minutes, O’Roarke. Mere minutes. You were such a baby about that shoot.”
“It was embarrassing, posing shirtless and knowing come April I’ll be tacked up on someone’s wall.”
“That reminds me...I brought calendars.”
He groaned. “I was afraid you would.”
“It’s a sales tool. Of course I had to bring them. You haven’t seen the final product, have you?” She pulled her laptop case out from under the seat in front of her.
“No, and I don’t want to see it now.”
“You need to look at it. Don’t forget, the Chance brothers volunteered, so this will give you a mental picture of each one before we get there.” She unzipped her case and pulled out a calendar.
There was his buddy Cade on the front, manly and shirtless as he leaned against the hitching post with a rope coiled over one shoulder. “I don’t need that kind of mental picture of the Chance brothers, thank you very much.”
“The pictures aren’t all like that.” She flipped through the calendar. “See? Here’s Jack Chance, fully dressed, sitting on his horse Bandit. He looks part Native American, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Finn had to admit that seeing the men in advance would help him remember their names when he met them.
“And here’s Nick Chance, Dominique’s husband. My picture of you is okay, but I’m glad Dominique was available to take the bulk of the shots because she’s such an amazing photographer. And obviously in love with Nick.”
Finn looked at the close-up of a smiling cowboy with dark hair and green eyes. His hat was shoved back, which made him seem friendly, as if he’d be a good guy to share a beer with. “You’re right. This helps. Where’s Gabe?”
“Here.” Chelsea flipped to a picture of a sandy-haired man with a mustache. “Dominique said she had to heckle him to get him to unsnap his shirt but he finally did it.”
“At least he was allowed to wear a shirt.” Finn gazed at the image of Gabe leading a brown-and-white Paint out of the barn. “Some of us weren’t so lucky.”
“Hey, what have you got there?” The flight attendant paused next to his seat. “Oh, let me see!”
Before Finn could protest, Chelsea handed it to her.
“I love this! Can I hold on to it until after takeoff? I’ll bring it back.”
“Sure,” Chelsea said. “Take your time.”
As the flight attendant walked toward the front of the plane, Finn turned to glare at Chelsea. “Now you’ve done it.”
“You were the one charming her with your hat and your ‘thank you, ma’am’ routine.”
“I was just trying to be polite, but now she’s—”
“A potential backer for Thunder Mountain Academy. Obviously your cowboy persona will be an asset this weekend. It never occurred to me that you should dress and act the part, although it should have, so props to you. Brilliant PR move.”
“I wasn’t thinking of it as a PR move.” In some ways it had been a protective one. When a guy ended up in a foster home with no relatives to call his own, he tried to put his best foot forward whenever possible. Finn also owned a three-piece suit, but he was Wyoming born and knew that a suit wouldn’t impress the Chance family nearly as much as a nice hat and polished boots.
“It’s a good look for you, Finn. You should dress like this more often.”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I refuse to be one of those guys who wears the clothes because he thinks they look cool but who’s never sat a horse or mucked out a stall.” He wished to hell the flight attendant didn’t have that calendar. Knowing they’d be mailed out to people he’d never met and probably never would meet was one thing. This was completely different.
“But you have ridden and...what was that other thing?”
“Mucked out a stall. Cleaned it out, in other words.”
She studied him. “I can picture you doing that, especially now that I’ve seen you in this outfit. But I hope you don’t wear that gorgeous gray hat to muck out a stall.”
“No, that’s my dress hat. Herb keeps some old straw ones for everyday chores.”
“Oh, right. You were wearing something like that when all of you were at the ranch in June and you Skyped me about Kickstarter ideas. FYI, the gray felt is a vast improvement over that battered straw thing.”
“Thanks.”
“What? No ‘thank you, ma’am’?”
He decided to lay it on thick. Served her right. He gave her his most winning smile and his deepest drawl. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She stared at him for a full three seconds. Then she swallowed and looked away. “You’re welcome.”
Uh-oh. He’d meant it sarcastically, but apparently it hadn’t affected her that way. Unless he was mistaken, he’d just turned her on. And that could present a problem.
Hell, who was he kidding? They’d always had a problem. From that first day in the coffee shop he’d been fascinated by her creativity and zest for life. He loved watching her talk and hearing her laugh. Her mouth was perfect and her skin was impossibly soft, not that he allowed himself to touch it except by accident.
The thought of interacting with her on a personal level as well as a business one scared the crap out of him. If he once gave in and took her to bed, he’d never get a damned thing done. He’d made sure to focus solely on the business angle of their relationship, at least when he was awake. He couldn’t control his dreams.
Then he’d met Alison. Quiet and methodical, she’d been the complete opposite of Chelsea. Alison had made it clear that she wanted him and had pushed for a commitment. He’d had some stupid idea that she was the kind of steady, safe woman he needed in his life.
Marrying her, especially so quickly, had been a huge mistake. She hadn’t absorbed all his attention, but she hadn’t held his interest, either. She’d been understandably upset by his total concentration on his business. He felt damned guilty about that marriage.
And he’d promised himself not to repeat his mistake. These days he only allowed two things to occupy his time: O’Roarke’s Brewhouse and his foster parents’ financial crisis. Making sure they weren’t forced to sell out was his priority this week. As the plane lifted into the air, he renewed his vow that Thunder Mountain Ranch would stay in the family.
* * *
CHELSEA GAZED AT white clouds piled up like whipped cream outside the window. And speaking of whipped cream, she wouldn’t mind being alone with a naked Finn and a can of the stuff. Their trip was minutes old and she was already in trouble.
His lustrous dark hair and startling blue eyes had caught her attention immediately when they’d met in that coffee shop five years ago. His body was nothing to sneeze at, either. When he’d first arrived in Seattle he’d had a tan, but that had gradually faded. His sex appeal hadn’t faded one tiny bit, though. Finn O’Roarke was hot.
Although they’d had chemistry from the beginning, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship and a business relationship. Disappointing, but she’d learned to live with it. At least she’d been able to see him often, and she’d noted with satisfaction that he spent all his time on work and didn’t date.
Then the rat had showed up with Alison and in practically no time at all they’d been married. Chelsea had hated that with a purple passion, and when the marriage had predictably broken up, she’d decided enough was enough. She’d waited a decent interval and then she’d asked him out. He’d turned her down.
That was so unfair. Just because Alison had complained about his lack of attention didn’t mean she would. She understood the constraints on his time and she had her share of those, too.
But he’d retreated into his anal-retentive shell and wasn’t coming out. She longed to give him up as a lost cause, but he sent her checks every month and that guaranteed she couldn’t forget him. Then this situation with his foster parents had brought them back together and, once again, she was into him.
Worse yet, he’d added a new level of hotness with his cowboy shtick. She hadn’t realized she was susceptible to cowboys. Or maybe it was only Cowboy Finn who made her heart beat faster. She’d find that out after being surrounded by a bunch of them for the next few days.
Last month her first big challenge had presented itself. Logically she’d been the one to handle his calendar shoot and she’d counted on her irritation with his behavior to see her through. It hadn’t.
She’d mostly blamed the shirtless part for her overheated state. Finn’s hair was the kind a woman itched to run her fingers through. Turned out he had a sprinkling of that same tantalizing dark hair on his rather impressive chest and it also formed a narrow path that led to the low-slung waistband of his jeans.
The shoot had taken longer than necessary because she’d spent far too much time wondering what he kept hidden behind that denim fly. She suspected he had a package worth bragging about, but Finn wasn’t the bragging type. Of course that made him all the more tempting. After photographing him posing shirtless and wearing the Stetson, jeans and boots, she’d hurried home to commune with her vibrator.
Sadly that was the extent of her sex life lately. After his quickie marriage, she’d indulged in a couple of affairs that had gone nowhere. The torch still burned for Finn despite all her efforts. She’d protected herself by being cool and sarcastic in his presence—until a moment ago when he’d given her that high-wattage smile and a sensuous “thank you, ma’am.”
A man as beautiful as Finn shouldn’t be allowed to talk like that. He also shouldn’t wear yoked shirts that made his shoulders seem a mile wide and jeans that cradled the sexiest buns in Seattle. But he had no idea that he was a walking sexual fantasy. The flight attendant had fallen all over herself sending “I’m available” signals and he hadn’t seemed to notice. Now that she had the calendar, Finn might discover a phone number tucked into his hatband.
But he was Chelsea’s for the next week, or as close to being hers as she’d ever experienced. He’d also left his precious business in the hands of his assistant, Brad. With luck he might learn that he wasn’t so damned indispensable, after all.
But she couldn’t allow thoughts about sexy Finn to distract her from her first order of business—wooing TMA backers during the presentation at the Last Chance Ranch. She’d continued to work on the PowerPoint until after midnight, which had caused her to oversleep. Now that the plane was at cruising altitude, she could take another look at it.
Finn, she noticed, was already engrossed in his Excel file. She’d retrieved her laptop and had balanced it on her fold-down tray when the flight attendant showed up with the calendar.
All her attention was on Finn, who remained engrossed in his spreadsheets. “You’re Mr. April, aren’t you?”
His head snapped up and he flushed as he stared at her in dismay. “Uh, yeah.”
“Gorgeous.”
He swallowed. “It was...we needed...”
“What’s the deal with Thunder Mountain Academy?”
“It’s this...this—”
“A residential equine program for sixteen-to-eighteen-year-olds,” Chelsea said. “It’ll be a fabulous opportunity for kids who think they might want to build a career around horses. They’ll learn horse training and equine health care along with the daily maintenance required. In addition, we have a master saddle maker who’ll teach them the basics of that art.”
The flight attendant blinked. “Sounds great, but I don’t have any kids. Can I just buy the calendar?”
“It’s offered as a premium if you pledge a certain amount to the academy’s Kickstarter fund.” Chelsea pulled out a card with website information on it. “Here’s where you can do that. It’s all spelled out on the site.”
“Thanks.” She took the card and reluctantly handed back the calendar. “Maybe some of my girlfriends will want to go together on it.” She glanced down at Finn. “I’m a beer drinker, too.”
He cleared his throat. “Good.”
“Don’t forget your hat when you leave the plane.”
“I won’t.”
“’Bye, now.” She fluttered her fingers at him and headed back to the front of the plane.
“Good Lord.” Finn sank back against the seat and took several deep breaths. “Thanks for telling her about TMA. My mind went blank.”
“I noticed.”
“Obviously, I’m not prepared for the effect that calendar is liable to have.”
“It’s not just the calendar.” Chelsea gazed at him. “So how long since you’ve dressed like a cowboy?”
“About five years. Basically since I moved to Seattle. Why?”
“Oh, it’s just that some guys get more appealing as the years go by and some get less. You might be in the first category.”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. It’s the calendar. I just have to brace myself for the reaction to it from now on.”
“If you say so.” She tucked the calendar back in her laptop case. Then she dug around for her earbuds because she wanted to hear the background music she’d chosen to accompany her PowerPoint, as well as the sound for the accompanying videos. At last she cued it up on the screen and put in the earbuds. “Back to work.”
Finn tapped her on the shoulder and she pulled out an earbud. “What?”
“Can I listen, too?”
“Okay.” Sharing the earbuds meant leaning close to each other, but she wouldn’t mind getting his input even if it meant putting up with the warmth of his body, the delicious scent of his aftershave and the sound of his breathing.
Once they were huddled together, she started the PowerPoint. Focusing on it with him so close wasn’t easy, but it was a good test of whether the presentation was any good. She’d opened with stirring music and the TMA logo: a horseshoe with the letters at the top created to resemble snowy mountain peaks. Next was a slide of the snowcapped Big Horn Mountain range with her shout line: Thunder Mountain Academy—Built on a Foundation of Caring.
Rosie had sent her some old photos of the ranch during its years as a foster-care facility and Chelsea had created a montage along with some explanatory text. Finn as a teenager appeared in several of the pictures. She heard his breath catch as he watched.
She’d introduced the next segment with the title “A New Era Dawns” and a brief explanation of the program. Then she’d included videos of Lexi, Cade’s girlfriend, giving riding lessons, plus one of Cade schooling a horse. Herb, a retired veterinarian, was shown delivering a foal. Ben Radcliffe would teach saddle making, and he’d sent some beautiful photos of his work. The academic benefits of the program were outlined, and then Rosie appeared in shots of an outdoor feast around a large campfire.
A brief video tour of the ranch house, the barn and the four log cabins where the students would live rounded out the presentation. It ended with a picture of Rosie, Herb, Cade, Lexi and Ben all wearing T-shirts bearing the TMA logo as they stood smiling in front of the ranch house. The last slide was once again set against the Big Horn range and carried the slogan “Thunder Mountain Academy. Fostering respectful stewardship of our equine friends through experience and education.”
The music swelled to a crescendo and faded as the image on the screen slowly disappeared. Chelsea thought it was pretty good. Not perfect, but then she was never completely satisfied with her work.
Beside her, Finn took a deep breath as he removed his earbud. “That was spectacular.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure it’s spectacular, but—”
“No, Chels, it’s spectacular.” He settled his intense blue gaze on her. “And you’re not charging us a dime, either. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”
As she looked into his eyes she could think of several ways, but he wouldn’t want to hear them. “Aren’t we supposed to meet the Chance family at a saloon called the Spirits and Spurs tonight?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Then once we get there, you can buy me a drink.” It wasn’t what she really wanted from him, but for now it would have to do.
2 (#ulink_d65dd221-ab74-5516-a6a0-0b458d4ad0fe)
FINN WOULD HAVE liked to watch the presentation again, but Chelsea wanted to polish it some more. She spent the rest of the trip, including the layover in Salt Lake City, tweaking it. And she accused him of being anal.
After they landed in Jackson, they picked up the gray SUV she’d reserved and he drove to the little town of Shoshone while she continued to play with the PowerPoint file.
“You’re missing the scenery.”
“That’s okay.” She didn’t look up from the screen. “I’ll see it on the way back.”
“Surely it’s done by now.”
“Mostly, but every time I look at it I see one more thing I want to fix. The presentation tomorrow is super important.”
“I’m well aware of that, but the version I saw on the plane should do the trick.”
“It’s way better now.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard of her laptop. “There. That font pops more than the other one.”
“There’s such a thing as working a project to death, you know.”
She glanced up. “Did you really say that? You, a card-carrying member of Perfectionists Anonymous?”
“I’m beginning to think you founded the club. I don’t remember you fiddling this much with the O’Roarke’s Brewhouse PowerPoint.”
“That’s because I worked on it in the middle of the night and you weren’t there. How would you feel if something this important was riding on your expertise?”
He contemplated that. “I see what you mean.”
“Thank you.” There was triumph in her voice. “If you’d been the one responsible for this very important PowerPoint, you would have made me drive while you worked on it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to stop because there’s the Bunk and Grub up ahead. We don’t have much time to check in before we head over to meet the Chance family at the saloon.”
She turned off her laptop and tucked it into her carrying case. “Looks just like the picture on the website, a cute little Victorian. With a name like the Bunk and Grub, you’d think it would be more rustic.”
“The Spirits and Spurs is rustic. We passed it on the way here.”
“Is it close?”
“A couple of blocks. We could walk it.” Then he thought of her high-heeled sandals. “Or not. I forgot about your shoes.”
“If I can take the hills of Seattle in these I can certainly walk a couple of blocks on flat ground.” She glanced down at her outfit. “But are you sure I’ll be okay wearing this? Not that I have anything more Western and rustic to change into.”
“Chels, you’d look great in a feed sack.” He wondered if he should have said that. But it was true. She had an instinctive sense of style.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t bring a feed sack. I don’t even know what they look like, but I’m sure they’re rustic. Being a cowboy and all, you probably know all about them.”
He laughed. “I do. Listen, whatever you brought will be fine, unless you decide to go riding while we’re at Thunder Mountain. Then maybe we should pick up a couple of things in Sheridan. Or you might be able to borrow a pair of boots from Rosie or Lexi, depending on sizes.”
“Could we do that? Go riding?”
“That’s up to you. Ever been on a horse?”
“I have, but it’s been...jeez, fifteen years. I took some lessons. And I rode English.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” He pulled into the parking lot beside the Bunk and Grub and shut off the engine.
“I’ll bet there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Probably so.” He met her gaze. He’d deliberately avoided finding out too much for fear it would only create more connection between them. Like the riding thing. Although she hadn’t kept it up, at one time experiencing the world on horseback had appealed to her.
“If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d love to go riding when we get to Thunder Mountain. I’ll be rusty, but I think it would be fun to get on a horse again. If the horse is gentle, I should be fine wearing my gym shoes.”
“Then I’ll take you.” He broke eye contact and reached for the door handle. “There’s a Forest Service road through the trees. You’ll like it.” And damned if it didn’t sound like a romantic thing to do.
“I’m sure I will.” She opened her door and climbed out.
The walkway around to the front door of the B and B was a series of stepping stones set in gravel, so Finn offered to carry both suitcases and Chelsea took their laptop shoulder bags. As he followed her up the steps to a front porch decorated with white wicker furniture and floral cushions, his mind was still on that ride along the Forest Service road.
He hadn’t thought much about the second part of this trip, but now that he knew she had some riding experience, he wanted to show her everything—the little clearing where he, Cade and Damon had performed their blood-brother ceremony, the stream where the three of them used to camp when they were older, and the slope they’d cleared of trees so they could use it as a toboggan run in the winter.
She’d like Cade and Damon. Finn was looking forward to seeing them again. So much had changed since he’d been there in June. Cade and Lexi had gotten back together, although still no word on a wedding. Damon had moved back to Sheridan to be with Philomena, the carpenter who’d worked with him on a fourth cabin for TMA last month.
Finn had been back to the ranch a few times since moving to Seattle, but he’d always traveled alone. This would be the first time he’d ever taken someone there. Maybe it was fitting that Chelsea should be the one. She’d helped him make the transition to Seattle and now she’d be able to see where he’d come from. For her, at least, the picture would be complete.
But he had huge gaps in his knowledge of her. He didn’t feel good about that. When it came to Chelsea, he’d been a coward. He should be able to get to know the woman’s background without forming an inseparable bond. As he walked through the front door of the Bunk and Grub, he decided to use this weekend to learn more about her.
The reception area and an adjacent parlor matched the exterior. Antique furniture and gilt-framed mirrors reminded Finn of the pictures his grandfather had showed him of his great-grandparents’ house. Vases of fresh flowers were everywhere.
A middle-aged woman with blond hair rose from behind an antique desk and came forward when they walked in. “You must be Finn and Chelsea.”
“We are.” Chelsea held out her hand. “And you must be Pam Mulholland. I recognize you from your picture on the website.”
“I’m Pam.” She took Chelsea’s hand in both of hers. “And I’m so excited about Thunder Mountain Academy. I’ve been talking to everyone I know. You should have a good crowd at the Last Chance tomorrow afternoon.”
“My goodness, thank you!”
“The project sounds amazing.” She squeezed Chelsea’s hand and released it. “And, Finn, I’m delighted to meet you.”
“Same here, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I also want to thank you for getting the word out about tomorrow. Thunder Mountain means a great deal to a lot of people, me included.”
“I’m sure it does. When Cade visited last month he kept us all entertained with stories about the days when you boys lived there.”
He smiled. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“So you weren’t the one who glued the toilet seats shut and put salt in the sugar bowl?”
“Uh, well...” He made a mental note to have a talk with his old buddy Cade.
Pam laughed. “You wouldn’t be normal kids if you hadn’t pulled a few pranks. According to Sarah, the Chance boys—”
A grandfather clock in the parlor chimed, interrupting her. “Whoops. Time to get moving.” She hurried behind the desk and grabbed two sets of keys from a board on the wall. “The bigger one opens the front door when I’m not here and the smaller one’s a room key. You can both sign the register later. You two are my only guests this weekend, so we can be more informal.”
“That sounds nice,” Chelsea said.
“I won’t abandon all the protocol, but I’ve dispensed with our usual happy hour for obvious reasons. You’ll be at Spirits and Spurs tonight and at the ranch for dinner tomorrow. We can see about Sunday night’s happy hour if you end up hanging around here.”
“We might,” Finn said. “It’s a great house.”
“Thank you.” Pam looked pleased. “I love it. Oh, and if you should need anything while you’re here, dial zero from the phone in your room. It’ll connect to me, or if I’m not here, it goes to the housekeeper’s room. Yvonne will take care of you. Are you walking over to Spirits and Spurs or driving?”
“Walking,” Chelsea said without hesitation.
“Then I’ll walk with you. Come on down whenever you’re ready and we’ll head over. Everyone’s so eager to meet you.” Pam glanced at Finn. “Josie has the beer you shipped chilling even as we speak. Nice touch.”
Chelsea swung around to gaze at him. “You sent beer? What a great idea.”
“Testing the market.”
“Smart.” She glanced at the number attached to her set of keys. “Which way is Room Three?”
“Up the stairs and to your left.” She handed Finn the other key. “You’re in Four, right next to her. They’re my two favorites.”
Finn took the key with a smile. “Much obliged, ma’am.” From the corner of his eye he caught Chelsea’s smirk. But he was in cowboy country now. He’d felt it the minute they’d landed in Jackson, and the Western atmosphere brought back all his cowboy manners. He hefted both suitcases and started toward the stairs.
“Oh, and in case I get caught up in the dancing and forget to mention it,” Pam said, “breakfast is at eight. Just follow your nose to the coffee and you’ll find the breakfast room.”
“Dancing?” Finn paused to glance back at her.
“At the Spirits and Spurs. There’s a live band and a dance floor. You and Chelsea will have to try it out.”
“Definitely,” Chelsea called over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. “Right, Finn?”
“Right.” Good Lord, would he really have to do that? He followed her up the stairs and down the carpeted hallway. “I’m not much of a dancer,” he said quietly as he set her suitcase by her door.
“Me, either.”
“Really? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“No, really.” She unlocked the door and turned to face him. “I hung out with the brainy kids. We considered ourselves too cool to go to dances, so I never really learned how. I sort of regret it now.”
“That’s surprising. I pictured you being into the whole social thing, maybe even the homecoming queen.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, Finn, you have a lot to learn about me. You can start tonight as you steer me awkwardly around the dance floor.”
“We’re not actually going to do it, are we?” He stared at her in horror.
“Of course we are. Pam’s remark tells me that these folks love their dancing. It’s like when you’re in a country where you don’t speak the language. The locals appreciate it if you at least give it a try. Sitting there like bumps on a log would be a mistake. We should dance, even if we’re bad at it. It’ll be excellent PR.”
“It’ll be a disaster.”
“No, it won’t.” She gazed up at him. “It’ll do us both good. We’ve established that we’re both perfectionists and we probably carry that to an extreme.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I’m speaking for both of us. Let’s see if we can tolerate dancing badly.”
He groaned.
“Man up, O’Roarke. Have a few beers. Cut loose. I know you have it in you after hearing about the toilet seats and the sugar-to-salt routine.”
“Okay, but you’ll be sorry. You’re wearing sandals, don’t forget, and I’m wearing boots. Don’t blame me if you’re limping by the end of the night.”
“I won’t blame you, but I might ask you to give me a foot rub.”
His breath caught.
“See you in five minutes, cowboy.” Grabbing her suitcase, she handed him his laptop, ducked inside her door and closed it in his face.
He stared at the closed door for several seconds. A foot rub. She was taunting him, which wasn’t very nice of her, all things considered. But, God, how he loved it.
* * *
TWENTY MINUTES LATER when Chelsea walked into the Spirits and Spurs, she recognized immediately that this was the real deal. She’d seen places that gave the appearance of being historic frontier watering holes, but this saloon had earned its ambience the old-fashioned way through years of serving drinks to thirsty cowhands.
The tables were scarred but sturdy, while the polished wooden bar, complete with beveled mirror behind it and plenty of shelves and brass fittings, was a thing to behold. Finn must be wild with envy—it was the kind of bar he’d lusted after but hadn’t been able to afford. These beauties, most of them shipped from back East more than a century ago, didn’t come cheap.
Chelsea could easily imagine miners, cattlemen and gamblers bellying up to that bar in days gone by. Obviously this saloon had seen it all and then some. The band was tuning up, so the party was about to get started.
A woman wearing jeans and a Western shirt walked toward them. A long blond braid hung down her back and she moved with assurance, as if she owned the place. Chelsea was willing to bet that she did.
She confirmed it immediately. “I’m Josie Chance, and you must be Chelsea and Finn,” she said as she shook hands with both of them. “Welcome to Spirits and Spurs. Thanks for escorting them over here, Pam.”
“Fortunately they came peacefully.” Pam grinned at them. “But if you’ll excuse me, I see my darling husband over at the bar and we haven’t checked in with each other in a couple of days.”
Josie waved her away. “Go for it.”
Chelsea noticed Pam heading toward a distinguished-looking cowboy with a gray mustache. “Has her husband been out of town?”
“No, Emmett lives at the Last Chance Ranch. He’s the foreman there. They were married Christmas before last, but they maintain separate residences and get together when they can.”
“That’s fascinating. Don’t you think so, Finn?”
“I’m sorry. What?” Apparently he hadn’t heard a word because he’d been too absorbed in his surroundings.
“Never mind. Cool bar, huh?”
“It’s amazing. I love this whole place, Josie. It has the kind of atmosphere I’m going for at O’Roarke’s Brewhouse, but I haven’t quite achieved it yet.”
Josie smiled. “Give yourself another hundred years.”
“That’s how old it is?” Finn glanced up into the rafters. “No wonder it feels so authentic.”
“And it has ghosts.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”
“I hope she’s not.” Chelsea shivered with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see one.”
“Well, I have seen one, right in this room after closing. I knew the saloon was supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of past patrons, so I renamed it Spirits and Spurs, thinking I was being clever. Then I saw my first ghost and realized I was being accurate.”
Chelsea sucked in a breath. “That is so cool.”
“That is so creepy.” Finn didn’t seem as happy about the ghost situation.
“Not everyone believes it.” Josie shrugged. “Their choice. I know what I saw and I stand by the name. By the way, I’ve tasted your beer, Finn, and it’s excellent. If you can guarantee me a steady supply, I’ll put it on the menu.”
“I’d be honored, ma’am.”
“Aha! Spoken like a Wyoming boy. Nice hat, too.”
“We were in coach,” Chelsea said, “but the hat rode in first class. Both legs. The flight attendants were very accommodating.”
“I understand how that could happen.” Josie gave Finn a speculative glance. “Women appreciate a nice hat. Anyway, I’ve monopolized you two long enough. The rest of the gang is sitting in the far corner where those two tables are pushed together. Let’s get your drinks ordered before we go over. What’ll you have?”
“O’Roarke’s Pale Ale,” Chelsea said, knowing it would please Finn. Besides, she liked it.
“Make that two, please.” Finn said.
“Why am I not surprised?” Josie beckoned to a waitress and gave her the order before turning back to them. “Hand-crafted beers are a fun idea. I’ve always thought owning the saloon was good enough, but lately I’ve been thinking that a microbrewery would be an interesting challenge.”
Finn clutched his chest. “A competitor? Right when I’ve snagged your business?”
“Relax.” She patted him on the arm. “It’ll take me ages to get up to speed. By then you’ll have the entire West Coast sewed up.”
“Just kidding, ma’am. I’d be glad to help any way I can. There’s room for both of us.”
Chelsea’s heart swelled. Finn was turning into a savvy businessman, as evidenced by his decision to expand his territory. But he wasn’t cutthroat about it and he was more than willing to lend a hand to a competitor. She’d admired that strength of character from the day they’d met.
Josie ushered them over to the table where the rest of the family sat, and immediately the men all pushed back their chairs and stood. Impressive. Cowboy manners were beginning to grow on her.
As Josie made the introductions, the calendar helped Chelsea identify people. She recognized Jack, Nick and Gabe instantly, and Dominique had to be the short-haired brunette sitting next to Nick. That meant Gabe’s wife, Morgan, was the curvy redhead.
“Sarah and Pete will be here any minute,” Josie said. “But they told us to go ahead and order food instead of waiting for them, so have a seat and grab a menu.” She laughed. “I refuse to be modest. Everything’s good here.”
“Well, I’m starving.” Chelsea sat next to Jack. That was when she noticed that everyone had a bottle of O’Roarke’s Pale Ale in front of them.
Obviously, Finn had noticed it, too. He gestured toward the bottles. “That’s right nice of you,” he said. “I really didn’t expect everyone to be obliged to drink it.”
“Why not?” Nick smiled at him. “It was free!”
“Exactly. I love me a free beer.” Jack raised his bottle in a subtle salute. “And it’s not half-bad. If Josie goes ahead with her microbrewery plan, she’ll have to step it up in order to top this. We’ll have you beat on the label, though.”
“I don’t know about that.” Finn settled into his chair with a grin. Apparently he was comfortable with this kind of teasing. “You have to admit that an Irish name on a beer bottle just looks natural.”
“Maybe so, but you don’t have historic information to slap on the back side.” Jack turned the bottle around. “In this space here, where you can only brag about the quality of your hops and such, we get to talk about a beer inspired by the friendly spirits of Shoshone, namely, ‘Ghost Drinkers in the Bar.’”
Chelsea laughed. “That’s good.”
“We’ve worked up a little ditty for the commercial.” Gabe smoothed his mustache. “You oughta hear it.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Hey, they just got here. You don’t have to do this now.”
“Oh, I think we do.” Nick began to hum the tune for “Ghost Riders in the Sky.”
Dominique glanced across the table at Chelsea and Finn. “Sorry. When they get like this it’s impossible to control them.”
“And why would you?” Jack stood and motioned the other two to do the same. As the band started playing the song, the three brothers began singing it, or rather a version of it.
The word riders became drinkers, who seemed to be riding bar stools instead of horses. They were also the ones with the red eyes, and instead of pounding hooves they had pounding heads. The chorus was YouTube worthy, with the guys throwing their arms around each other’s shoulders and belting out the yippee-yi-yay part along with ghost drinkers in the baaaaarrrr.
Chelsea laughed so hard her sides ached. Through brimming eyes she glanced over at Finn, who was gasping for breath and wiping his eyes. She hadn’t seen him have so much fun in...forever.
When the men sat down again, Finn cleared his throat. “I give. With that kind of promo, Spirits and Spurs beer is going to dominate the market.”
Jack smiled at him. “I know.”
“Don’t count yourself out yet, Finn,” Chelsea said. “Don’t forget your ace in the hole.”
He glanced over at her. “What’s that?”
“Me.”
3 (#ulink_abed33f7-f181-5556-a78b-682784ec2134)
“GOOD POINT.” Finn had loved watching Chelsea crack up. Her cheeks glowed pink and her lashes were spiked with tears of laughter. “Gentlemen, I take back what I said. With Chelsea in my corner, I can face any comers.”
Jack nodded. “I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on her that she would be a worthy opponent. Never underestimate a woman with purple streaks in her hair.”
“Lavender,” Chelsea shot back.
“See what I mean?” Jack waved a hand in her direction. “She’ll stand up to anyone, even me. So, are we all gonna eat or dance?”
“Both!” called out a male voice.
Finn turned in his chair as a tall, fit man who was probably in his seventies walked toward them with a silver-haired woman who had the bearing of a queen. Finn stood, as did all the men at the table. Sarah Chance was in the building, along with her husband of only a few years, Pete Beckett.
They came over immediately to the newcomers, and Chelsea rose from her chair to greet them. “I can’t tell you how excited I am about tomorrow,” Chelsea said. “Thank you for hosting this event.”
“Yes, thank you, ma’am.” Finn looked into blue eyes that shone with intelligence and wisdom. He’d heard that Sarah was a special woman, and after only a minute or so of being in her presence, he understood why people said that. She gave off enough warmth and good humor to envelop everyone at the table, but Finn suspected she was also capable of silencing the entire group with a look.
Pete glanced around the table. “Have you ordered?”
“Not yet.” Morgan tossed back her red hair and gave her husband a pointed look. “Some people had to subject us all, including our guests, to ‘Ghost Drinkers.’”
“I see.” Pete rubbed a hand over his face as if hiding a smile. “Chelsea and Finn, I’d like to say that was an aberration, but I’m afraid things like that go on all the time around here.”
“I hope so,” Chelsea said.
“But not while you give your presentation.” Jack patted her shoulder. “You have my word that we’ll behave ourselves tomorrow afternoon.”
“But once everyone leaves, all bets are off.” Nick winked at her. “I have a feeling you can take it.”
“Oh, she can.” Finn felt compelled to alert them. “She can also dish it out, so watch yourselves.”
“I figured as much,” Jack said. “But didn’t you say you were starving, Chelsea? We’d better rustle up some grub. Then we can dance while we wait for it.” He glanced over at Finn. “I assume you dance?”
“Depends on your definition.”
“Hmm.” Jack didn’t look impressed by the response. “I hope you’re not into salsa.”
“Only with my chips.”
“That’s a relief.” Jack returned his attention to his menu. “Don’t know why I bother looking at this. I know it by heart. Give me your order, everybody. I’ll relay it to the cook.”
“I can call Heather over,” Josie said. “You don’t have to play waiter.”
“Heather’s running herself ragged tonight. I know the menu, probably better than she does. I can do it.”
Finn decided that he liked Jack. The guy had a sense of humor, but he also wasn’t afraid to pitch in when necessary. Finn had done the same many times at O’Roarke’s Brewhouse. Josie was the owner here, but Jack obviously tried to lighten her load.
After he disappeared with their order, Sarah cast a glance at her remaining sons and daughters-in-law. “I checked on the kids before we left and Cassidy seems to have everything under control.”
“Good,” Josie said.
“Thank God for Cassidy.” Morgan looked over at Chelsea and Finn. “My youngest sister. She’s the ranch housekeeper and she babysits the grandkids, although now that she has a boyfriend we have to make sure we plan ahead.”
Jack returned and pulled his wife out of her chair. “I have a plan. I finally have a night out with the woman of my dreams. Let’s hit the floor, lady.”
“I like that idea a lot.” Gabe offered his hand to Morgan. “Dance with me?”
“As long as you don’t sing in my ear.” But Morgan looked happy as she joined her husband on the floor.
Nick and Dominique followed, and Pete stood and held Sarah’s chair. He paused when Finn and Chelsea didn’t immediately leave the table. “How about you two?”
“We’ll be out there in a minute,” Finn said.
“You’re sure?” Sarah hesitated. “We don’t want to leave our guests sitting all alone.”
“We’re right behind you.” Finn grabbed his beer bottle and glanced at Chelsea. “I don’t know about you, but I need some Dutch courage.”
“I’m with you.” She took several swallows. “Okay, let’s do this thing.”
Finn didn’t feel ready, but Chelsea was on her feet. He pushed back his chair. “I don’t know a lot about dancing, but that looks like what they call country swing. It’s fairly popular around here.”
“Whatever you say. I’m pretty much clueless.” Chelsea studied the participants. “Lots of twirling and fancy footwork. But we might be able to fake it.”
“My specialty is standing in one spot and shuffling around.”
“That’s not going to work, Finn. They’ll run you over.”
“Should we reconsider? After all, you do have on sandals. If I don’t squash your toes I’m liable to place you in serious danger from somebody else. We could sit and drink beer, instead.”
“No, we need to try it. Maybe if we spin around a lot nobody will notice we don’t know what we’re doing.”
Finn sucked in a breath. “All right. Let’s go.” At the edge of the dance floor he grabbed Chelsea and began madly twirling her around the perimeter. He stepped on her a couple of times, but she didn’t yell, so it must not have hurt too much.
On his second circuit, Jack showed up beside them and grabbed his shoulder hard enough to stop the twirling. “What the hell is that you’re doing?”
Finn decided to brave it out. “The same thing you’re doing.”
“I think not.” He gently set Chelsea aside. “Stay right here, sweetheart. I’ll bring him back in a few minutes.”
“Hang on.” Finn stepped back, both hands raised. “Whatever you have in mind, I’m not doing it.”
“Work with me, O’Roarke.” Jack grasped his hand.
Finn pulled free. “I’m not dancing with you, Jack.”
“You weren’t dancing with Chelsea, either. You have two choices. You can continue to look like an idiot out on the floor or you can let me give you a quick lesson.”
“Three choices. I can head back to the table and drink.”
“You’re a quitter? Is that what you’re saying? I didn’t peg you for a quitter.”
Those were the magic words. Finn sighed. “Tell me what to do.”
“That’s better. Put your hand around my waist. Pretend I’m Chelsea.”
“She doesn’t have a five o’clock shadow.”
“And she has way fancier hair and I’m sure she smells better, too. Just focus on what I’m telling you. The idea is to describe a box with your feet and turn at the same time. Now go.”
“You do realize this will look ridiculous.”
“It’s no worse than the hot mess you were a bit ago. Come on, now, you built your own business. That takes cojones. This is just a little dancing.”
Finn could have used more beer, but if Jack was willing to make a fool of himself, then, what the hell? Might as well go along. Good thing nobody he knew was here except Chelsea. Having her watch was bad enough, but at least she’d admitted that she wasn’t very good, either.
Then he caught movement on the far side of the dance floor and realized Josie was dancing with Chelsea. “Hey! Your wife is dancing with my...” He trailed off, unable to come up with a proper title for her.
“Your what?” Jack exerted pressure on Finn’s shoulder to keep him moving in the right direction. “I’m no expert, but I feel a vibe between you two.”
“She’s my business associate.”
“Yeah, and I’m Elvis. Tell me another one. And lead with your other foot. There. That’s better. Good.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Anybody who owns a hat like yours should be able to dance the two-step. I think you have the basics. Josie’s coming around again with your business associate. We’ll trade partners.”
And just like that, Jack thrust him into Chelsea’s arms and the momentum kept them moving around the floor. Miraculously, they were even doing it in a synchronized fashion. “I’m not sure what just happened.”
“I think it was the fastest dancing lesson in history.”
“Embarrassing as it is to admit, Jack’s a good teacher.”
“Josie said he’s considered the dancing master at the Last Chance. He’s working with the kids now so that they’ll grow up knowing how.”
“You were right that it’s an important skill around here. And believe it or not, we might be actually doing it. More or less. Sort of.”
“We might.” She smiled as she gazed up at him. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun.”
“You know what? Me, either.” He wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but instead he twirled her around one more time and the music ended.
Jack came by and leaned toward them. “Good job. Now let’s eat.”
The food, as Josie had mentioned, was excellent. Finn noted that the pub fries were better than what he served at O’Roarke’s. Humbling, because he was proud of his establishment’s pub fries, but this little saloon in Wyoming did them better.
After dinner everyone danced some more. Jack suggested that he partner Chelsea while Josie partnered Finn. Finn improved a lot while dancing with Josie, but he was grateful once Chelsea was back in his arms.
He was comforted knowing that she wasn’t any more accomplished than he was, but that wasn’t the only reason he liked dancing with her. He’d discovered how much he loved holding her.
She felt so right cradled in his arms. He should have guessed that she would. The warmth in her eyes told him she felt the same way. This trip was designed to deliver a Hail Mary pass that would clinch the Kickstarter project and save the ranch. No small potatoes, there. But already it felt as if even more was at stake.
As the evening progressed, Jack kept bringing over more O’Roarke’s Pale Ale. Finn knew his inhibitions were disappearing, and he could tell from the way Chelsea danced with him that hers were, too. He had to stay strong.
She’d made it obvious months ago that she thought they could have a lot of fun together. He completely agreed with her. But starting an affair with her had the potential to make him forget everything else. They had an important mission to accomplish this weekend, and he couldn’t let anything distract him from that.
Dancing with her was safe enough, though. They had people all around them and he still had to concentrate on his footwork so he wouldn’t step on her or run into other couples. That left him very little time to think about how soft her breasts felt or how perfectly their hips aligned thanks to her high-heeled sandals.
Then they goaded each other into attempting a very fast number. They made a mess of it, but he was proud of them for trying. When the music ended they clung to each other, laughing and gasping for breath.
Gradually he realized he could feel the rapid thump of her heart as she leaned against his chest. His palm, which was flattened against the small of her back, rotated in a slow massage. He hadn’t been conscious of doing it at first. He looked down at her and she was looking right back at him, her full lips parted as she sucked in air.
The heat of her body was nothing compared to the heat in her gaze. On cue, his groin tightened. He released her slowly and stepped back as he fought to control his reaction. He hoped she hadn’t noticed, but when the corners of her mouth tilted up a fraction, he thought she had. Maybe dancing with her wasn’t so safe, after all.
Just his luck, the party broke up after that. Pam came over to tell them she was going back to the Last Chance so she could spend the night with her husband. Breakfast would be served as usual because her housekeeper, Yvonne, was also the cook.
Several people offered Chelsea and Finn a ride back to the Bunk and Grub, but Finn suggested walking and Chelsea quickly agreed. He couldn’t speak for her, but he needed a cooling-off period before stepping into a cozy B and B where his room was right next to hers.
At least he hadn’t brought condoms. He was grateful for that as they walked through the cool night air. Fortunately the thought hadn’t crossed his mind in connection with this trip, and even if it had, he would have made sure not to have any.
“That was fun.” Chelsea’s heels clicked on the sidewalk, a sharper sound than what his boots made. “I expected to like them and I do.”
“Me, too. Great family. I have a good feeling about tomorrow. Their support could put us over the top.”
“Yep.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s kind of nippy out here.”
“Yeah.” This cooling-off period had turned out to be just plain cold. If he’d had a coat, he would have given it to her, but he didn’t, and taking off his shirt would be ridiculous. He felt the chill, too, after all that dancing in a warm room. Her blouse was flimsy compared to his cotton shirt, so she must be freezing.
From the corner of his eye he could see her struggling not to shiver. Aw, hell, he had to do something about that. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to put my arm around you so you won’t be cold.”
“That would b-be lovely.”
“I didn’t think about how the temperature drops at night in late August.” He kept his tone nonchalant as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and matched his stride to hers. “Warm during the day and frosty at night.”
“S-so I see.” Nestling against him, she slid her arm around his waist. “Thanks.”
And he was no longer cold. She fit against his side and synchronized her steps to his as if they’d walked this way hundreds of times. He tightened his grip on her warm, firm shoulder and imagined touching her warm, firm skin.
Oh, God, now he was thinking of what else they could do that would be effortless. Kissing, for example. And then sliding out of their clothes and into a bed, either his or hers. The more turned on he became the faster he walked. He didn’t realize it until he heard their labored breathing.
He slowed down. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to start race-walking.”
“That’s okay.” There was a hint of laughter in her voice. “Good way to warm up.”
He could think of another good way. In fact, that seemed to be the only thing he could think about.
She stopped making conversation and so did he. No telling what would come out of his mouth in his current state.
Her scent teased him with possibilities. Her hair swung as they walked, brushing his shoulder. He wanted to thread his fingers through those silky strands, cup the back of her head and finally taste the lips he’d stared at for years. Years, damn it!
Instead of kissing her, he let her go when they reached the B and B’s porch steps so he could dig out his keys. As it turned out, she got to hers first and opened the front door.
He followed her into the silent entry. A trace of cinnamon hung in the warm air and a Tiffany-style lamp glowed in the parlor. Etched-crystal sconces along the stairway created an intriguing mix of light and shadow. He remembered they were alone on the second floor of the house. No other guests.
Chelsea started up the carpeted steps and he followed, keeping a safe distance behind her. No, there wasn’t such a thing as a safe distance. He watched hungrily as her snug jeans lovingly stretched over her backside as she climbed. Even though he’d slowed his pace, his heart thumped as if they’d run the whole way.
Rational thought drifted away as insanity gripped him. Her hand on the polished railing made him think of her hand on his cock. The lack of condoms was no longer a lucky circumstance that would keep him from doing something stupid. It was a damned inconvenience standing between him and paradise.
Neither of his best friends would have been caught in this situation. Yet here he was, aching for someone who would probably welcome him into her bed if he gave the slightest indication that he wanted to be there, and he was condomless.
Pausing at her door, she inserted the key in the lock. His fevered brain attached a sexual connotation to that, too.
But there would be no inserting anything because he was without those little raincoats.
She glanced at him as he approached her. Her face was in shadow, her expression hidden. “See you in the morning.” Twisting the key, she opened her door and started through it. Lamplight from inside the room skimmed her tempting silhouette.
He was pushed beyond reason into a world of primitive needs. Even as unprepared as he was, he couldn’t let her go. “Wait.”
She turned and peered up at him. “Finn, are you okay?”
“No.” His voice rasped in the stillness.
“What’s the matter?”
“I...” He stopped to clear the huskiness from his throat. “I want you so much I can’t breathe.”
“Oh.” Her beautiful mouth curved in a smile and she stepped back from the door. “Would you like to come in?”
“God, yes, but I...I didn’t anticipate this.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
Hope dawned. “Did you?”
“No, of course not.”
He groaned. “Then we can’t—”
“Maybe not that, but there are alternatives.”
Alternatives. The word stood out in flashing neon in his frazzled brain.
Curling her fingers into the front of his shirt, she pulled him slowly inside her room. “You haven’t dated since Alison. I haven’t dated since I asked you out. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Swallowing, he nodded.
“Good.” She took off his hat and laid it on the dresser. “Because I can hardly wait to get my hands on you, Finn O’Roarke.”
He had the presence of mind to kick the door shut before his brain shut down completely.
4 (#ulink_5f0a1a93-195a-535b-ae8c-d343a5d8ca5e)
CHELSEA HAD TRIED to be good. She really had tried, except for her earlier remark about the foot rub. When they’d had their hot moment on the dance floor, she hadn’t teased him about the hard ridge she’d felt pressed against her belly before he’d backed away.
He wanted to keep his distance, and she had vowed to honor that. She would have suffered the cold air on the walk home in silence because it was her own fault for not bringing a jacket. But then he’d wrapped his arm around her. The moment she’d felt his touch and the delicious heat of his body, a fantasy movie had started rolling in her head.
And now—against all odds—fantasy had become reality. Flattening her palms against his chest, she absorbed the wild beating of his heart as he combed his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back. His gaze moved hungrily over her face and settled on her mouth. He groaned. “Chelsea...” And then he was there, his velvet lips covering hers.
At last. Joy surged through her at the urgent pressure of his mouth and the deliberate thrust of his tongue. Oh, yes, this was good, and right, and ahhh...he could kiss better than any man she’d ever known.
He angled his head and went deeper, inspiring shocking thoughts about where else she wanted that talented mouth. He obviously knew what she’d meant when she’d suggested alternatives. They had all night, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t get started on that program ASAP.
She wrenched apart the snaps of his shirt, desperate to touch him. When she laid both hands against his muscled chest and stroked him there, he shuddered and lifted his mouth from hers. “I’m going crazy.” He gulped for air. “I have zero control.”
“That’s okay.” Pulse hammering, she slid her hand down to his zipper. Oh, my. What she’d felt on the dance floor had been a mere prelude. “I’ll just—”
“No, it’s not okay.” He caught her hand and brought it up to his mouth. His breathing ragged, he kissed her fingertips one by one. “We’re changing focus.”
“To what?”
His blue eyes glowed with intensity. “You.”
She gasped as a fresh wave of lust crashed over her. Her attention shifted to his mouth and her imagination kicked into high gear. She began to tremble. “I could live with that.”
His soft laughter gave her goose bumps. “Ah, Chels. You’re one of a kind.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
He held her gaze. “I never have.” Then he stepped back and looked her up and down, as if evaluating his next move. His attention settled on the belt circling her hips. “How does that come off?”
“Easy.” But eagerness made her clumsy and she messed it up somehow. She swore softly and kept working at the clasp.
“Let me see.” He knelt in front of her, moved her hands aside and had the belt undone in two seconds. As it slithered to the floor he slipped both hands under the hem of her tunic and before she could take a breath he’d unbuttoned her jeans.
As he started pulling them down, panties and all, her heart beat so fast she grew dizzy. “My...my shoes.”
“You get the blouse.” His voice rasped in the stillness. “I’ll get the shoes.” He unbuckled the straps and slipped off one shoe at a time, taking care that she didn’t lose her balance. His touch was nimble, practiced and incredibly erotic.
“You’re...” She paused to gulp in air. “You’re good at that.”
“Cowboy stuff.”
At first she didn’t get it and then she understood. Bridles, halters, harnesses—leather and buckles were no challenge to a man with cowboy skills.
He tenderly divested her of her jeans and panties, too. Still on his knees, he caressed her calves and gradually made his way up her quaking thighs. His questing fingers drew closer to the spot where she ached so fiercely that she barely contained a whimper of longing. She closed her eyes to savor his touch.
Then he paused.
She moaned softly. “Don’t stop.”
“Your blouse.”
“Oh.” He’d mesmerized her so completely that she’d forgotten her assignment. Grabbing the hem, she whipped the shirt over her head, then took off her bra and flung it after the blouse. Her breasts ached for his touch, too.
With a sharp intake of breath, he rose and stepped back.
She watched him and was thrilled by his awestruck reaction. Lifting her chin, she looked him in the eye. “See what you’ve been missing?”
His gaze roved over her. “Yes.” His chest heaved. “And I’m a damned fool.”
“Not tonight.”
“No, not tonight. Thank God for alternatives.” And with a swiftness that made her squeal, he swept her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. Then he pulled off his clothes with utter disregard for where they landed. That was so unlike Finn.
Her tidy little Victorian room took on the appearance of a ravishing. She was more than ready to be ravished, even if his options for accomplishing that were limited. But when she had her first unobstructed view of his package, she cursed the lack of condoms.
She’d thought fleetingly about bringing them, but that had seemed like tempting fate. If she’d brought them and then had taken the box home unopened, she would have needed more than a few bottles of O’Roarke’s Pale Ale to get over her disappointment.
But, oh, how she yearned for what he had to offer. “O’Roarke, I have one thing to say.”
“Only one?”
“Yes.” Viewing that kind of male beauty and knowing there were restrictions on enjoying it made her impatient. “Before tomorrow night, we’ll obtain a box of condoms.”
“It’s a small town, don’t forget. Word spreads.”
“I don’t care.”
He grinned. “You know what? Neither do I.”
If there was ever a more stirring sight than Finn naked and smiling, she’d never seen it. Her fantasies of him paled in comparison to the real man, his erect cock seated in a cloud of dark hair and his impressive balls tight with desire. Better yet, she’d inspired this aroused condition. No matter what happened after tonight, she’d carry that potent image with her.
He walked over to the bed. “Make room. I’m coming in.”
“I sort of expected that.” She scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He climbed onto the bed and immediately moved over her, rolling her to her back in the process. “For the next little while, we’ll be pretty much occupying the same area.”
Somewhere along the way he’d changed his attitude. Outside her door he’d been desperate yet hesitant to fully commit. Now he was all in. This new, more masterful Finn thrilled her to her toes. “You say that as if you’re in charge.”
“Not necessarily.” He leaned down and nibbled at her mouth. “But I think you’d like it if I took over.”
Oh, yes, she certainly would. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
And as he captured her mouth and cupped her breast in a slow, sensuous massage, she abandoned herself to the sensation of letting Finn be in charge. What a heady feeling, turning her body over to a man. She couldn’t recall ever doing that. In vulnerable situations, she preferred to be in control.
But it was no mystery why she could surrender so completely to him. His sense of honesty and fair play was bone deep. She’d known that from the moment they’d met. She trusted him more than any man she’d ever been naked with.
And because of that trust, she allowed herself to let go in a way that she never would have with someone else. As he ran his hands over her curves, she arched into his caress with a moan of delight. When he cradled her breasts so that he could use his mouth to drive her crazy, she let herself make all the noise she wanted to.
The pleasure he gave her was more intense because it was Finn. Finn was the man kissing his way down the valley between her breasts and over her quivering stomach. Finn was the man parting her thighs, the man who was about to bestow the most intimate of kisses.
His knowing touch made her gasp as he explored and stroked with clever fingers. His breath was warm against her damp skin and she trembled in silent anticipation. With the first swipe of his tongue, she cried out, electrified by the moist pressure on the most sensitive spot of all.
He did it again, drawing out the motion, and she sucked in a breath. “More.”
He obviously knew the meaning of more. In seconds she was writhing on the bed thanks to the wonder of Finn’s mouth. His hands bracketing her hips, he lifted her up so he could sink deeper, take more. He was definitely ravishing her. And she loved it.
She came in a rush, her breathless cries filling the small room. If she’d expected him to stop there, she’d underestimated him. He teased and taunted her until she spiraled out of control a second time. She forgot where she was as she spun in a whirlpool of sensation.
But she never forgot who was loving her. Finn O’Roarke was in bed with her at last, and the results were more spectacular than she could have imagined. But as he left her quaking center and returned to place a lingering kiss on her mouth, she reminded herself that alternatives included fun for both parties.
Disengaging was no easy task because he seemed to really like kissing her and she really liked him kissing her. But she had other plans for her mouth. Cupping his face in both hands, she pushed upward until he lifted his head. “My turn,” she murmured, looking into his passion-glazed eyes. They’d never seemed quite so blue.
“But I love making you come. I’m just taking a short break. You taste so good. I want to—”
“No. My turn. I mean it.”
He smiled. “I can tell. Your eyes are shooting sparks.”
“Fair is fair.” She ran her tongue slowly over her lips. “And I think you’ll have fun.”
As he stared at her mouth, his breathing changed.
“Think about how nice it will feel when I use my tongue on your—”
He groaned. “Lord help me, I want that.”
“Of course you do. We’re shifting the focus to you, O’Roarke.”
Dragging in a breath, he stretched out beside her. “This won’t take long.”
“Are you sure?” She straddled his thighs, feeling more uninhibited than ever in her life. She embraced showmanship in her job, but she’d never felt motivated to practice it in the bedroom. Two orgasms and a naked Finn stretched beneath her had turned her into a seductress.
“Absolutely sure.” His chest rose and fell rapidly and he clenched his jaw. “I’ve wanted you for five years.”
“Ditto.” His rigid cock was directly in front of her, magnificently erect with a drop of moisture gathered at the tip. She grasped the base of his penis and squeezed gently. “And now I have you, at least for tonight. If you prop some pillows behind your head you can watch me making you happy.”
He gasped. “Dangerous. I already feel as if I could come any second.”
“You won’t if I keep pressure here.” She tightened the circle created by her fingers and the muscles in his jaw gradually relaxed.
“That...helps.”
“Good. I want you to be able to savor this. Grab those pillows, Finn.”
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Vicki Lewis Thompson
The last cowboy… All work and no play makes Finn a dull cowboy. Since his divorce, Finn O'Roarke has put all of his time into his Seattle-based microbrewery, unaware that back in Wyoming, his foster parents are on the verge of ruin. Now Finn and his foster brothers are trying to save Thunder Mountain Ranch–and only one woman can help them turn it all around.Marketing guru Chelsea Trask has had a thing for the gorgeous brewer for ages. When they work together at Thunder Mountain Ranch, however, she starts to see Finn's cowboy side. And it's irresistibly hot. Best of all, the attraction that's been sizzling beneath the surface has erupted in some very sexy situations. But is Chelsea falling for the real Finn…or for the cowboy he used to be?
The last cowboy...
All work and no play makes Finn a dull cowboy. Since his divorce, Finn O’Roarke has put all of his time into his Seattle-based microbrewery, unaware that back in Wyoming, his foster parents are on the verge of ruin. Now Finn and his foster brothers are trying to save Thunder Mountain Ranch—and only one woman can help them turn it all around.
Marketing guru Chelsea Trask has had a thing for the gorgeous brewer for ages. When they work together at Thunder Mountain Ranch, however, she starts to see Finn’s cowboy side. And it’s irresistibly hot. Best of all, the attraction that’s been sizzling beneath the surface has erupted in some very sexy situations. But is Chelsea falling for the real Finn...or for the cowboy he used to be?
Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson (#ulink_37136c6e-bbfc-558a-9cf3-0fabb94fbead)
“Cowboy Up is a sexy joy ride, balanced with good-natured humor and Thompson’s keen eye for detail. Another sizzling romance from the RT Reviewers’ Choice award winner for best Blaze.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Vicki Lewis Thompson has compiled a tale of this terrific family, along with their friends and employees, to keep you glued to the page and ending with that warm and loving feeling.”
—Fresh Fiction on Cowboys and Angels
“Intensely romantic and hot enough to singe...her Sons of Chance series never fails to leave me worked up from all the heat, and then sighing with pleasure at the happy endings!”
—We Read Romance on Riding High
“If I had to use one word to describe Ambushed! it would be charming... Where the story shines and how it is elevated above others is the humor that is woven throughout.”
—Dear Author
“The chemistry between Molly and Ben is off the charts: their first kiss is one of the best I’ve ever read, and the sex is blistering and yet respectful, tender and loving.”
—Fresh Fiction on A Last Chance Christmas
Dear Reader (#ulink_19636010-51c5-577e-a490-ae63021ed9b9),
As a card-carrying member of Workaholics Anonymous, I completely identify with Finn O’Roarke. He brews beer for a living and I write stories, but we’re from the same tribe. We get a whole lot accomplished, but we can’t seem to locate the off switch.
Because of that, I loved hauling Finn from his microbrewery in Seattle to his cowboy roots in Wyoming so he could rediscover the simple joys of ranch life and maybe even allow himself to fall in love. The core values he learned as a foster kid at Thunder Mountain Ranch might be the very things that save him from himself.
And for those of you who loved my Sons of Chance series, I have a treat for you in this book. You’ll get to revisit the Last Chance Ranch and catch up with some of your old friends. I promised that the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood series would intersect with the Sons of Chance series here and there, and this is one of those times!
So grab a cool drink and a shady spot because I have plenty to tell you and you won’t want to miss a single thing. You especially won’t want to miss the moment when Finn realizes it’s time to cowboy up!
Your devoted storyteller,
Rolling Like Thunder
Vicki Lewis Thompson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A passion for travel has taken New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON to Europe, Great Britain, the Greek isles, Australia and New Zealand. She’s visited most of North America and has her eye on South America’s rainforests. Africa, India and China beckon. But her first love is her home state of Arizona, with its deserts, mountains, sunsets and—last but not least—cowboys! The wide-open spaces and heroes on horseback influence everything she writes. Connect with her at vickilewisthompson.com (http://www.vickilewisthompson.com), facebook.com/vickilewisthompson (http://www.facebook.com/vickilewisthompson) and twitter.com/vickilthompson (http://www.twitter.com/vickilthompson).
To Wendy Delaney, fellow author and awesome Seattle friend. If O’Roarke’s Brewhouse existed, we’d meet there for a drink!
Contents
Cover (#u5057cbc7-a121-5f2b-a74d-855aab965d23)
Back Cover Text (#u379c5bfa-c713-5d47-a123-0f4308d8f3ac)
Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson (#ulink_b83f83a7-de79-5c8d-b97f-06b9fc3feced)
Dear Reader (#ulink_20b26ec2-cb18-58aa-9257-a8315845b5ba)
Title Page (#u28dc23de-e98a-50b6-b1d4-80f868c13667)
About the Author (#ucbc9cd9a-5fb2-57f8-af20-558e6b0202b5)
Dedication (#u6ce74198-933c-5f23-bd39-943a73ee2768)
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1 (#ulink_fe1e0b4e-c33a-52c8-9b81-c583369d195f)
FINN O’ROARKE SCANNED the boarding area for the umpteenth time. First class was already on the plane and still no Chelsea. He would have gladly picked her up instead of meeting her here, but they hadn’t been able to agree on timing. He preferred early and she liked to cut it close.
Too damned close. Good thing he didn’t fly with her on a regular basis, because this kind of thing would drive him...ah! There she was. He exhaled and promised himself not to say a word. She was doing him a favor by making this trip.
With a roller bag behind her and a laptop case over her shoulder, she walked toward the boarding area with her typical “I have the world by the tail” stride. She wasn’t tall but she dressed tall—skinny black jeans, high-heeled sandals and a multicolored tunic belted around her hips. Her light blond hair, recently streaked with lavender, swayed gently with each confident step.
As she came closer, she surveyed the crowd waiting near the Jetway and her brown eyes widened when she spotted him. She hurried over. “Holy smokes, you’re dressed like a cowboy! I did not expect that.”
At one time Finn would have been annoyed. But after owning a Seattle microbrewery and tavern for nearly five years, he didn’t think of himself as a cowboy anymore. He couldn’t very well expect her to think of him that way, either.
But they’d be spending time at the Last Chance Ranch in Jackson Hole this weekend. Finn had never seen it, but he’d heard plenty of stories. The Chance family was royalty in Wyoming.
So he’d hauled out his dove-gray Stetson, his yoked Western shirts, his Wranglers and his black boots. He gazed at Chelsea and shrugged. “We’re making our presentation to ranch people. It seemed like a good idea.”
“Should I have done that, too? If so, I’m screwed. I have these sandals and gym shoes. That’s it.”
“No worries, Chels. You’ll be fine.” He thought she looked more than fine. He’d known from the moment they’d met in a coffee shop five years ago that she was too cool and stylish for him.
But meeting her had been a gift. She was a PR and marketing whiz. After listening to his plan for a microbrewery and tavern in downtown Seattle, she’d suggested a Kickstarter crowdfunding campaign to renovate an old building slated for demolition. Then she’d offered to help him for a percentage. He’d saved the building and launched O’Roarke’s Brewhouse thanks to Chelsea Trask.
This trip would put him even more in her debt. His foster parents, Herb and Rosie Padgett, were in financial trouble and could lose the ranch where Finn and many other homeless boys had found refuge. A group of them were trying to save it, and because Chelsea knew Finn’s background and admired the Padgetts, she’d agreed to help him once again.
Thanks to Chelsea, a Kickstarter campaign had been launched in June for Thunder Mountain Academy, a residential equine education program geared toward teens. But the September 1 deadline for donations was less than two weeks away and they were thousands shy of the goal. Everybody connected with it, including Finn, had begun to panic.
This weekend was make-or-break time. Cade Gallagher, once a foster boy and one of Finn’s best friends, had recently discovered he was a Chance cousin. Because of that family tie, Finn and Chelsea had been invited to pitch the concept to potential TMA backers at a gathering hosted by the Chances. Chelsea was the pro, so she’d run the event, but Finn would also talk about the debt he owed Thunder Mountain Ranch.
As the first economy-class group was called to board the plane, Chelsea gave Finn another once-over. “It’s probably good that you’re all decked out like that.”
“I’m glad you approve.” He decided not to let the “all decked out” comment bother him, either. Coming from Chelsea, that was a relatively mild dig. When she was wound up, she could really turn on the snark. She’d been irritated with him for months, which made working together on this project somewhat awkward.
Apparently she’d expected them to get together after his divorce from Alison last year, but she, of all people, should have realized that he was married to his business, which was why Alison had left. Yeah, he’d had his share of hot dreams starring Chelsea, but he had no intention of turning them into reality.
Guaranteed if they got together, it’d disrupt his careful routine right when he needed to concentrate all his energy on keeping the microbrewery solvent. The divorce had been expensive. Besides, he’d proved himself incapable of running a business and maintaining a relationship. He’d told her that when he’d turned down her dinner invitation, but she hadn’t taken it well.
Because they’d bought their plane tickets late, they’d be in the last group to board, so she had time to study him. “I remember the hat and boots from when we did the photo shoot for the Men of Thunder Mountain calendar, but that was a deliberate beefcake shirtless shot. This is more subtle, but effective.”
“Effective for what?” He’d suffered through the photo session last month because some genius had decided Thunder Mountain Academy needed a calendar as a giveaway to backers. Chelsea had volunteered to take his picture rather than having him waste time flying to Wyoming.
“Image.” She gave him another assessing glance. “While my PowerPoint presentation is running, you can stand there looking like a guy who can ride and rope with the best of them—all the things they plan to teach students at Thunder Mountain Academy.”
Okay, he couldn’t let that go. “As it happens, I can ride and rope. Maybe not with the best of them anymore because I’m out of practice, but I’d be decent.”
“I’m sure you would.” Her gaze warmed briefly before she broke eye contact. “Hey, that’s us.” She waved her boarding pass. “Time to rock and roll.”
“Right.” She’d captured his attention so completely that he’d missed the announcement. Perfect example of how she distracted him. Adjusting the shoulder strap of his laptop case and grasping the handle of his wheeled bag, he followed her.
Chelsea could sure stir him up. Now he had the adolescent urge to actually do some riding and roping on this trip just to prove to her that he could. Not at the Last Chance, of course, but they’d planned to drive over to Thunder Mountain Ranch for a few days afterward so she could look over the setup for TMA.
After all the work she’d put into nurturing the idea and giving advice—all gratis—she deserved to see the ranch and meet his foster parents. They were eager to meet her, too. He wondered if she rode. He’d never asked.
As they entered the plane a blonde flight attendant smiled at him. “Great hat.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He was out of the habit of using ma’am, but he’d unconsciously lapsed into it.
“I’d be glad to store it up front for you.”
“That would be great.” He took it off and handed it to her.
“My pleasure.” She gave him another brilliant smile. “I’ll take good care of it.”
“I surely appreciate that.” Yep. He was back to talking like a cowboy.
By the time he caught up with Chelsea, she was struggling to get her roller bag into the overhead compartment, so he helped her. She muttered her thanks and he slid his own in next to it before taking his seat.
The plane was configured with two seats on one side of the aisle and three on the other, and Chelsea had managed to snag the two-seat side when she’d made their reservations. She’d requested the window, which was fine with him because he preferred the aisle.
Once they were buckled in, she turned to him. “‘Thank you, ma’am’?”
“I swear it’s the hat. I put it on and my words come out different.”
“You wore it for the photo shoot and I didn’t notice you calling me ma’am.”
He laughed. “That’s because you were torturing me by making me hold a beer keg on my bare shoulder for hours on end.”
“Minutes, O’Roarke. Mere minutes. You were such a baby about that shoot.”
“It was embarrassing, posing shirtless and knowing come April I’ll be tacked up on someone’s wall.”
“That reminds me...I brought calendars.”
He groaned. “I was afraid you would.”
“It’s a sales tool. Of course I had to bring them. You haven’t seen the final product, have you?” She pulled her laptop case out from under the seat in front of her.
“No, and I don’t want to see it now.”
“You need to look at it. Don’t forget, the Chance brothers volunteered, so this will give you a mental picture of each one before we get there.” She unzipped her case and pulled out a calendar.
There was his buddy Cade on the front, manly and shirtless as he leaned against the hitching post with a rope coiled over one shoulder. “I don’t need that kind of mental picture of the Chance brothers, thank you very much.”
“The pictures aren’t all like that.” She flipped through the calendar. “See? Here’s Jack Chance, fully dressed, sitting on his horse Bandit. He looks part Native American, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Finn had to admit that seeing the men in advance would help him remember their names when he met them.
“And here’s Nick Chance, Dominique’s husband. My picture of you is okay, but I’m glad Dominique was available to take the bulk of the shots because she’s such an amazing photographer. And obviously in love with Nick.”
Finn looked at the close-up of a smiling cowboy with dark hair and green eyes. His hat was shoved back, which made him seem friendly, as if he’d be a good guy to share a beer with. “You’re right. This helps. Where’s Gabe?”
“Here.” Chelsea flipped to a picture of a sandy-haired man with a mustache. “Dominique said she had to heckle him to get him to unsnap his shirt but he finally did it.”
“At least he was allowed to wear a shirt.” Finn gazed at the image of Gabe leading a brown-and-white Paint out of the barn. “Some of us weren’t so lucky.”
“Hey, what have you got there?” The flight attendant paused next to his seat. “Oh, let me see!”
Before Finn could protest, Chelsea handed it to her.
“I love this! Can I hold on to it until after takeoff? I’ll bring it back.”
“Sure,” Chelsea said. “Take your time.”
As the flight attendant walked toward the front of the plane, Finn turned to glare at Chelsea. “Now you’ve done it.”
“You were the one charming her with your hat and your ‘thank you, ma’am’ routine.”
“I was just trying to be polite, but now she’s—”
“A potential backer for Thunder Mountain Academy. Obviously your cowboy persona will be an asset this weekend. It never occurred to me that you should dress and act the part, although it should have, so props to you. Brilliant PR move.”
“I wasn’t thinking of it as a PR move.” In some ways it had been a protective one. When a guy ended up in a foster home with no relatives to call his own, he tried to put his best foot forward whenever possible. Finn also owned a three-piece suit, but he was Wyoming born and knew that a suit wouldn’t impress the Chance family nearly as much as a nice hat and polished boots.
“It’s a good look for you, Finn. You should dress like this more often.”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I refuse to be one of those guys who wears the clothes because he thinks they look cool but who’s never sat a horse or mucked out a stall.” He wished to hell the flight attendant didn’t have that calendar. Knowing they’d be mailed out to people he’d never met and probably never would meet was one thing. This was completely different.
“But you have ridden and...what was that other thing?”
“Mucked out a stall. Cleaned it out, in other words.”
She studied him. “I can picture you doing that, especially now that I’ve seen you in this outfit. But I hope you don’t wear that gorgeous gray hat to muck out a stall.”
“No, that’s my dress hat. Herb keeps some old straw ones for everyday chores.”
“Oh, right. You were wearing something like that when all of you were at the ranch in June and you Skyped me about Kickstarter ideas. FYI, the gray felt is a vast improvement over that battered straw thing.”
“Thanks.”
“What? No ‘thank you, ma’am’?”
He decided to lay it on thick. Served her right. He gave her his most winning smile and his deepest drawl. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She stared at him for a full three seconds. Then she swallowed and looked away. “You’re welcome.”
Uh-oh. He’d meant it sarcastically, but apparently it hadn’t affected her that way. Unless he was mistaken, he’d just turned her on. And that could present a problem.
Hell, who was he kidding? They’d always had a problem. From that first day in the coffee shop he’d been fascinated by her creativity and zest for life. He loved watching her talk and hearing her laugh. Her mouth was perfect and her skin was impossibly soft, not that he allowed himself to touch it except by accident.
The thought of interacting with her on a personal level as well as a business one scared the crap out of him. If he once gave in and took her to bed, he’d never get a damned thing done. He’d made sure to focus solely on the business angle of their relationship, at least when he was awake. He couldn’t control his dreams.
Then he’d met Alison. Quiet and methodical, she’d been the complete opposite of Chelsea. Alison had made it clear that she wanted him and had pushed for a commitment. He’d had some stupid idea that she was the kind of steady, safe woman he needed in his life.
Marrying her, especially so quickly, had been a huge mistake. She hadn’t absorbed all his attention, but she hadn’t held his interest, either. She’d been understandably upset by his total concentration on his business. He felt damned guilty about that marriage.
And he’d promised himself not to repeat his mistake. These days he only allowed two things to occupy his time: O’Roarke’s Brewhouse and his foster parents’ financial crisis. Making sure they weren’t forced to sell out was his priority this week. As the plane lifted into the air, he renewed his vow that Thunder Mountain Ranch would stay in the family.
* * *
CHELSEA GAZED AT white clouds piled up like whipped cream outside the window. And speaking of whipped cream, she wouldn’t mind being alone with a naked Finn and a can of the stuff. Their trip was minutes old and she was already in trouble.
His lustrous dark hair and startling blue eyes had caught her attention immediately when they’d met in that coffee shop five years ago. His body was nothing to sneeze at, either. When he’d first arrived in Seattle he’d had a tan, but that had gradually faded. His sex appeal hadn’t faded one tiny bit, though. Finn O’Roarke was hot.
Although they’d had chemistry from the beginning, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship and a business relationship. Disappointing, but she’d learned to live with it. At least she’d been able to see him often, and she’d noted with satisfaction that he spent all his time on work and didn’t date.
Then the rat had showed up with Alison and in practically no time at all they’d been married. Chelsea had hated that with a purple passion, and when the marriage had predictably broken up, she’d decided enough was enough. She’d waited a decent interval and then she’d asked him out. He’d turned her down.
That was so unfair. Just because Alison had complained about his lack of attention didn’t mean she would. She understood the constraints on his time and she had her share of those, too.
But he’d retreated into his anal-retentive shell and wasn’t coming out. She longed to give him up as a lost cause, but he sent her checks every month and that guaranteed she couldn’t forget him. Then this situation with his foster parents had brought them back together and, once again, she was into him.
Worse yet, he’d added a new level of hotness with his cowboy shtick. She hadn’t realized she was susceptible to cowboys. Or maybe it was only Cowboy Finn who made her heart beat faster. She’d find that out after being surrounded by a bunch of them for the next few days.
Last month her first big challenge had presented itself. Logically she’d been the one to handle his calendar shoot and she’d counted on her irritation with his behavior to see her through. It hadn’t.
She’d mostly blamed the shirtless part for her overheated state. Finn’s hair was the kind a woman itched to run her fingers through. Turned out he had a sprinkling of that same tantalizing dark hair on his rather impressive chest and it also formed a narrow path that led to the low-slung waistband of his jeans.
The shoot had taken longer than necessary because she’d spent far too much time wondering what he kept hidden behind that denim fly. She suspected he had a package worth bragging about, but Finn wasn’t the bragging type. Of course that made him all the more tempting. After photographing him posing shirtless and wearing the Stetson, jeans and boots, she’d hurried home to commune with her vibrator.
Sadly that was the extent of her sex life lately. After his quickie marriage, she’d indulged in a couple of affairs that had gone nowhere. The torch still burned for Finn despite all her efforts. She’d protected herself by being cool and sarcastic in his presence—until a moment ago when he’d given her that high-wattage smile and a sensuous “thank you, ma’am.”
A man as beautiful as Finn shouldn’t be allowed to talk like that. He also shouldn’t wear yoked shirts that made his shoulders seem a mile wide and jeans that cradled the sexiest buns in Seattle. But he had no idea that he was a walking sexual fantasy. The flight attendant had fallen all over herself sending “I’m available” signals and he hadn’t seemed to notice. Now that she had the calendar, Finn might discover a phone number tucked into his hatband.
But he was Chelsea’s for the next week, or as close to being hers as she’d ever experienced. He’d also left his precious business in the hands of his assistant, Brad. With luck he might learn that he wasn’t so damned indispensable, after all.
But she couldn’t allow thoughts about sexy Finn to distract her from her first order of business—wooing TMA backers during the presentation at the Last Chance Ranch. She’d continued to work on the PowerPoint until after midnight, which had caused her to oversleep. Now that the plane was at cruising altitude, she could take another look at it.
Finn, she noticed, was already engrossed in his Excel file. She’d retrieved her laptop and had balanced it on her fold-down tray when the flight attendant showed up with the calendar.
All her attention was on Finn, who remained engrossed in his spreadsheets. “You’re Mr. April, aren’t you?”
His head snapped up and he flushed as he stared at her in dismay. “Uh, yeah.”
“Gorgeous.”
He swallowed. “It was...we needed...”
“What’s the deal with Thunder Mountain Academy?”
“It’s this...this—”
“A residential equine program for sixteen-to-eighteen-year-olds,” Chelsea said. “It’ll be a fabulous opportunity for kids who think they might want to build a career around horses. They’ll learn horse training and equine health care along with the daily maintenance required. In addition, we have a master saddle maker who’ll teach them the basics of that art.”
The flight attendant blinked. “Sounds great, but I don’t have any kids. Can I just buy the calendar?”
“It’s offered as a premium if you pledge a certain amount to the academy’s Kickstarter fund.” Chelsea pulled out a card with website information on it. “Here’s where you can do that. It’s all spelled out on the site.”
“Thanks.” She took the card and reluctantly handed back the calendar. “Maybe some of my girlfriends will want to go together on it.” She glanced down at Finn. “I’m a beer drinker, too.”
He cleared his throat. “Good.”
“Don’t forget your hat when you leave the plane.”
“I won’t.”
“’Bye, now.” She fluttered her fingers at him and headed back to the front of the plane.
“Good Lord.” Finn sank back against the seat and took several deep breaths. “Thanks for telling her about TMA. My mind went blank.”
“I noticed.”
“Obviously, I’m not prepared for the effect that calendar is liable to have.”
“It’s not just the calendar.” Chelsea gazed at him. “So how long since you’ve dressed like a cowboy?”
“About five years. Basically since I moved to Seattle. Why?”
“Oh, it’s just that some guys get more appealing as the years go by and some get less. You might be in the first category.”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. It’s the calendar. I just have to brace myself for the reaction to it from now on.”
“If you say so.” She tucked the calendar back in her laptop case. Then she dug around for her earbuds because she wanted to hear the background music she’d chosen to accompany her PowerPoint, as well as the sound for the accompanying videos. At last she cued it up on the screen and put in the earbuds. “Back to work.”
Finn tapped her on the shoulder and she pulled out an earbud. “What?”
“Can I listen, too?”
“Okay.” Sharing the earbuds meant leaning close to each other, but she wouldn’t mind getting his input even if it meant putting up with the warmth of his body, the delicious scent of his aftershave and the sound of his breathing.
Once they were huddled together, she started the PowerPoint. Focusing on it with him so close wasn’t easy, but it was a good test of whether the presentation was any good. She’d opened with stirring music and the TMA logo: a horseshoe with the letters at the top created to resemble snowy mountain peaks. Next was a slide of the snowcapped Big Horn Mountain range with her shout line: Thunder Mountain Academy—Built on a Foundation of Caring.
Rosie had sent her some old photos of the ranch during its years as a foster-care facility and Chelsea had created a montage along with some explanatory text. Finn as a teenager appeared in several of the pictures. She heard his breath catch as he watched.
She’d introduced the next segment with the title “A New Era Dawns” and a brief explanation of the program. Then she’d included videos of Lexi, Cade’s girlfriend, giving riding lessons, plus one of Cade schooling a horse. Herb, a retired veterinarian, was shown delivering a foal. Ben Radcliffe would teach saddle making, and he’d sent some beautiful photos of his work. The academic benefits of the program were outlined, and then Rosie appeared in shots of an outdoor feast around a large campfire.
A brief video tour of the ranch house, the barn and the four log cabins where the students would live rounded out the presentation. It ended with a picture of Rosie, Herb, Cade, Lexi and Ben all wearing T-shirts bearing the TMA logo as they stood smiling in front of the ranch house. The last slide was once again set against the Big Horn range and carried the slogan “Thunder Mountain Academy. Fostering respectful stewardship of our equine friends through experience and education.”
The music swelled to a crescendo and faded as the image on the screen slowly disappeared. Chelsea thought it was pretty good. Not perfect, but then she was never completely satisfied with her work.
Beside her, Finn took a deep breath as he removed his earbud. “That was spectacular.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure it’s spectacular, but—”
“No, Chels, it’s spectacular.” He settled his intense blue gaze on her. “And you’re not charging us a dime, either. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”
As she looked into his eyes she could think of several ways, but he wouldn’t want to hear them. “Aren’t we supposed to meet the Chance family at a saloon called the Spirits and Spurs tonight?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Then once we get there, you can buy me a drink.” It wasn’t what she really wanted from him, but for now it would have to do.
2 (#ulink_d65dd221-ab74-5516-a6a0-0b458d4ad0fe)
FINN WOULD HAVE liked to watch the presentation again, but Chelsea wanted to polish it some more. She spent the rest of the trip, including the layover in Salt Lake City, tweaking it. And she accused him of being anal.
After they landed in Jackson, they picked up the gray SUV she’d reserved and he drove to the little town of Shoshone while she continued to play with the PowerPoint file.
“You’re missing the scenery.”
“That’s okay.” She didn’t look up from the screen. “I’ll see it on the way back.”
“Surely it’s done by now.”
“Mostly, but every time I look at it I see one more thing I want to fix. The presentation tomorrow is super important.”
“I’m well aware of that, but the version I saw on the plane should do the trick.”
“It’s way better now.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard of her laptop. “There. That font pops more than the other one.”
“There’s such a thing as working a project to death, you know.”
She glanced up. “Did you really say that? You, a card-carrying member of Perfectionists Anonymous?”
“I’m beginning to think you founded the club. I don’t remember you fiddling this much with the O’Roarke’s Brewhouse PowerPoint.”
“That’s because I worked on it in the middle of the night and you weren’t there. How would you feel if something this important was riding on your expertise?”
He contemplated that. “I see what you mean.”
“Thank you.” There was triumph in her voice. “If you’d been the one responsible for this very important PowerPoint, you would have made me drive while you worked on it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to stop because there’s the Bunk and Grub up ahead. We don’t have much time to check in before we head over to meet the Chance family at the saloon.”
She turned off her laptop and tucked it into her carrying case. “Looks just like the picture on the website, a cute little Victorian. With a name like the Bunk and Grub, you’d think it would be more rustic.”
“The Spirits and Spurs is rustic. We passed it on the way here.”
“Is it close?”
“A couple of blocks. We could walk it.” Then he thought of her high-heeled sandals. “Or not. I forgot about your shoes.”
“If I can take the hills of Seattle in these I can certainly walk a couple of blocks on flat ground.” She glanced down at her outfit. “But are you sure I’ll be okay wearing this? Not that I have anything more Western and rustic to change into.”
“Chels, you’d look great in a feed sack.” He wondered if he should have said that. But it was true. She had an instinctive sense of style.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t bring a feed sack. I don’t even know what they look like, but I’m sure they’re rustic. Being a cowboy and all, you probably know all about them.”
He laughed. “I do. Listen, whatever you brought will be fine, unless you decide to go riding while we’re at Thunder Mountain. Then maybe we should pick up a couple of things in Sheridan. Or you might be able to borrow a pair of boots from Rosie or Lexi, depending on sizes.”
“Could we do that? Go riding?”
“That’s up to you. Ever been on a horse?”
“I have, but it’s been...jeez, fifteen years. I took some lessons. And I rode English.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” He pulled into the parking lot beside the Bunk and Grub and shut off the engine.
“I’ll bet there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Probably so.” He met her gaze. He’d deliberately avoided finding out too much for fear it would only create more connection between them. Like the riding thing. Although she hadn’t kept it up, at one time experiencing the world on horseback had appealed to her.
“If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d love to go riding when we get to Thunder Mountain. I’ll be rusty, but I think it would be fun to get on a horse again. If the horse is gentle, I should be fine wearing my gym shoes.”
“Then I’ll take you.” He broke eye contact and reached for the door handle. “There’s a Forest Service road through the trees. You’ll like it.” And damned if it didn’t sound like a romantic thing to do.
“I’m sure I will.” She opened her door and climbed out.
The walkway around to the front door of the B and B was a series of stepping stones set in gravel, so Finn offered to carry both suitcases and Chelsea took their laptop shoulder bags. As he followed her up the steps to a front porch decorated with white wicker furniture and floral cushions, his mind was still on that ride along the Forest Service road.
He hadn’t thought much about the second part of this trip, but now that he knew she had some riding experience, he wanted to show her everything—the little clearing where he, Cade and Damon had performed their blood-brother ceremony, the stream where the three of them used to camp when they were older, and the slope they’d cleared of trees so they could use it as a toboggan run in the winter.
She’d like Cade and Damon. Finn was looking forward to seeing them again. So much had changed since he’d been there in June. Cade and Lexi had gotten back together, although still no word on a wedding. Damon had moved back to Sheridan to be with Philomena, the carpenter who’d worked with him on a fourth cabin for TMA last month.
Finn had been back to the ranch a few times since moving to Seattle, but he’d always traveled alone. This would be the first time he’d ever taken someone there. Maybe it was fitting that Chelsea should be the one. She’d helped him make the transition to Seattle and now she’d be able to see where he’d come from. For her, at least, the picture would be complete.
But he had huge gaps in his knowledge of her. He didn’t feel good about that. When it came to Chelsea, he’d been a coward. He should be able to get to know the woman’s background without forming an inseparable bond. As he walked through the front door of the Bunk and Grub, he decided to use this weekend to learn more about her.
The reception area and an adjacent parlor matched the exterior. Antique furniture and gilt-framed mirrors reminded Finn of the pictures his grandfather had showed him of his great-grandparents’ house. Vases of fresh flowers were everywhere.
A middle-aged woman with blond hair rose from behind an antique desk and came forward when they walked in. “You must be Finn and Chelsea.”
“We are.” Chelsea held out her hand. “And you must be Pam Mulholland. I recognize you from your picture on the website.”
“I’m Pam.” She took Chelsea’s hand in both of hers. “And I’m so excited about Thunder Mountain Academy. I’ve been talking to everyone I know. You should have a good crowd at the Last Chance tomorrow afternoon.”
“My goodness, thank you!”
“The project sounds amazing.” She squeezed Chelsea’s hand and released it. “And, Finn, I’m delighted to meet you.”
“Same here, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I also want to thank you for getting the word out about tomorrow. Thunder Mountain means a great deal to a lot of people, me included.”
“I’m sure it does. When Cade visited last month he kept us all entertained with stories about the days when you boys lived there.”
He smiled. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“So you weren’t the one who glued the toilet seats shut and put salt in the sugar bowl?”
“Uh, well...” He made a mental note to have a talk with his old buddy Cade.
Pam laughed. “You wouldn’t be normal kids if you hadn’t pulled a few pranks. According to Sarah, the Chance boys—”
A grandfather clock in the parlor chimed, interrupting her. “Whoops. Time to get moving.” She hurried behind the desk and grabbed two sets of keys from a board on the wall. “The bigger one opens the front door when I’m not here and the smaller one’s a room key. You can both sign the register later. You two are my only guests this weekend, so we can be more informal.”
“That sounds nice,” Chelsea said.
“I won’t abandon all the protocol, but I’ve dispensed with our usual happy hour for obvious reasons. You’ll be at Spirits and Spurs tonight and at the ranch for dinner tomorrow. We can see about Sunday night’s happy hour if you end up hanging around here.”
“We might,” Finn said. “It’s a great house.”
“Thank you.” Pam looked pleased. “I love it. Oh, and if you should need anything while you’re here, dial zero from the phone in your room. It’ll connect to me, or if I’m not here, it goes to the housekeeper’s room. Yvonne will take care of you. Are you walking over to Spirits and Spurs or driving?”
“Walking,” Chelsea said without hesitation.
“Then I’ll walk with you. Come on down whenever you’re ready and we’ll head over. Everyone’s so eager to meet you.” Pam glanced at Finn. “Josie has the beer you shipped chilling even as we speak. Nice touch.”
Chelsea swung around to gaze at him. “You sent beer? What a great idea.”
“Testing the market.”
“Smart.” She glanced at the number attached to her set of keys. “Which way is Room Three?”
“Up the stairs and to your left.” She handed Finn the other key. “You’re in Four, right next to her. They’re my two favorites.”
Finn took the key with a smile. “Much obliged, ma’am.” From the corner of his eye he caught Chelsea’s smirk. But he was in cowboy country now. He’d felt it the minute they’d landed in Jackson, and the Western atmosphere brought back all his cowboy manners. He hefted both suitcases and started toward the stairs.
“Oh, and in case I get caught up in the dancing and forget to mention it,” Pam said, “breakfast is at eight. Just follow your nose to the coffee and you’ll find the breakfast room.”
“Dancing?” Finn paused to glance back at her.
“At the Spirits and Spurs. There’s a live band and a dance floor. You and Chelsea will have to try it out.”
“Definitely,” Chelsea called over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. “Right, Finn?”
“Right.” Good Lord, would he really have to do that? He followed her up the stairs and down the carpeted hallway. “I’m not much of a dancer,” he said quietly as he set her suitcase by her door.
“Me, either.”
“Really? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“No, really.” She unlocked the door and turned to face him. “I hung out with the brainy kids. We considered ourselves too cool to go to dances, so I never really learned how. I sort of regret it now.”
“That’s surprising. I pictured you being into the whole social thing, maybe even the homecoming queen.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, Finn, you have a lot to learn about me. You can start tonight as you steer me awkwardly around the dance floor.”
“We’re not actually going to do it, are we?” He stared at her in horror.
“Of course we are. Pam’s remark tells me that these folks love their dancing. It’s like when you’re in a country where you don’t speak the language. The locals appreciate it if you at least give it a try. Sitting there like bumps on a log would be a mistake. We should dance, even if we’re bad at it. It’ll be excellent PR.”
“It’ll be a disaster.”
“No, it won’t.” She gazed up at him. “It’ll do us both good. We’ve established that we’re both perfectionists and we probably carry that to an extreme.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I’m speaking for both of us. Let’s see if we can tolerate dancing badly.”
He groaned.
“Man up, O’Roarke. Have a few beers. Cut loose. I know you have it in you after hearing about the toilet seats and the sugar-to-salt routine.”
“Okay, but you’ll be sorry. You’re wearing sandals, don’t forget, and I’m wearing boots. Don’t blame me if you’re limping by the end of the night.”
“I won’t blame you, but I might ask you to give me a foot rub.”
His breath caught.
“See you in five minutes, cowboy.” Grabbing her suitcase, she handed him his laptop, ducked inside her door and closed it in his face.
He stared at the closed door for several seconds. A foot rub. She was taunting him, which wasn’t very nice of her, all things considered. But, God, how he loved it.
* * *
TWENTY MINUTES LATER when Chelsea walked into the Spirits and Spurs, she recognized immediately that this was the real deal. She’d seen places that gave the appearance of being historic frontier watering holes, but this saloon had earned its ambience the old-fashioned way through years of serving drinks to thirsty cowhands.
The tables were scarred but sturdy, while the polished wooden bar, complete with beveled mirror behind it and plenty of shelves and brass fittings, was a thing to behold. Finn must be wild with envy—it was the kind of bar he’d lusted after but hadn’t been able to afford. These beauties, most of them shipped from back East more than a century ago, didn’t come cheap.
Chelsea could easily imagine miners, cattlemen and gamblers bellying up to that bar in days gone by. Obviously this saloon had seen it all and then some. The band was tuning up, so the party was about to get started.
A woman wearing jeans and a Western shirt walked toward them. A long blond braid hung down her back and she moved with assurance, as if she owned the place. Chelsea was willing to bet that she did.
She confirmed it immediately. “I’m Josie Chance, and you must be Chelsea and Finn,” she said as she shook hands with both of them. “Welcome to Spirits and Spurs. Thanks for escorting them over here, Pam.”
“Fortunately they came peacefully.” Pam grinned at them. “But if you’ll excuse me, I see my darling husband over at the bar and we haven’t checked in with each other in a couple of days.”
Josie waved her away. “Go for it.”
Chelsea noticed Pam heading toward a distinguished-looking cowboy with a gray mustache. “Has her husband been out of town?”
“No, Emmett lives at the Last Chance Ranch. He’s the foreman there. They were married Christmas before last, but they maintain separate residences and get together when they can.”
“That’s fascinating. Don’t you think so, Finn?”
“I’m sorry. What?” Apparently he hadn’t heard a word because he’d been too absorbed in his surroundings.
“Never mind. Cool bar, huh?”
“It’s amazing. I love this whole place, Josie. It has the kind of atmosphere I’m going for at O’Roarke’s Brewhouse, but I haven’t quite achieved it yet.”
Josie smiled. “Give yourself another hundred years.”
“That’s how old it is?” Finn glanced up into the rafters. “No wonder it feels so authentic.”
“And it has ghosts.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”
“I hope she’s not.” Chelsea shivered with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see one.”
“Well, I have seen one, right in this room after closing. I knew the saloon was supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of past patrons, so I renamed it Spirits and Spurs, thinking I was being clever. Then I saw my first ghost and realized I was being accurate.”
Chelsea sucked in a breath. “That is so cool.”
“That is so creepy.” Finn didn’t seem as happy about the ghost situation.
“Not everyone believes it.” Josie shrugged. “Their choice. I know what I saw and I stand by the name. By the way, I’ve tasted your beer, Finn, and it’s excellent. If you can guarantee me a steady supply, I’ll put it on the menu.”
“I’d be honored, ma’am.”
“Aha! Spoken like a Wyoming boy. Nice hat, too.”
“We were in coach,” Chelsea said, “but the hat rode in first class. Both legs. The flight attendants were very accommodating.”
“I understand how that could happen.” Josie gave Finn a speculative glance. “Women appreciate a nice hat. Anyway, I’ve monopolized you two long enough. The rest of the gang is sitting in the far corner where those two tables are pushed together. Let’s get your drinks ordered before we go over. What’ll you have?”
“O’Roarke’s Pale Ale,” Chelsea said, knowing it would please Finn. Besides, she liked it.
“Make that two, please.” Finn said.
“Why am I not surprised?” Josie beckoned to a waitress and gave her the order before turning back to them. “Hand-crafted beers are a fun idea. I’ve always thought owning the saloon was good enough, but lately I’ve been thinking that a microbrewery would be an interesting challenge.”
Finn clutched his chest. “A competitor? Right when I’ve snagged your business?”
“Relax.” She patted him on the arm. “It’ll take me ages to get up to speed. By then you’ll have the entire West Coast sewed up.”
“Just kidding, ma’am. I’d be glad to help any way I can. There’s room for both of us.”
Chelsea’s heart swelled. Finn was turning into a savvy businessman, as evidenced by his decision to expand his territory. But he wasn’t cutthroat about it and he was more than willing to lend a hand to a competitor. She’d admired that strength of character from the day they’d met.
Josie ushered them over to the table where the rest of the family sat, and immediately the men all pushed back their chairs and stood. Impressive. Cowboy manners were beginning to grow on her.
As Josie made the introductions, the calendar helped Chelsea identify people. She recognized Jack, Nick and Gabe instantly, and Dominique had to be the short-haired brunette sitting next to Nick. That meant Gabe’s wife, Morgan, was the curvy redhead.
“Sarah and Pete will be here any minute,” Josie said. “But they told us to go ahead and order food instead of waiting for them, so have a seat and grab a menu.” She laughed. “I refuse to be modest. Everything’s good here.”
“Well, I’m starving.” Chelsea sat next to Jack. That was when she noticed that everyone had a bottle of O’Roarke’s Pale Ale in front of them.
Obviously, Finn had noticed it, too. He gestured toward the bottles. “That’s right nice of you,” he said. “I really didn’t expect everyone to be obliged to drink it.”
“Why not?” Nick smiled at him. “It was free!”
“Exactly. I love me a free beer.” Jack raised his bottle in a subtle salute. “And it’s not half-bad. If Josie goes ahead with her microbrewery plan, she’ll have to step it up in order to top this. We’ll have you beat on the label, though.”
“I don’t know about that.” Finn settled into his chair with a grin. Apparently he was comfortable with this kind of teasing. “You have to admit that an Irish name on a beer bottle just looks natural.”
“Maybe so, but you don’t have historic information to slap on the back side.” Jack turned the bottle around. “In this space here, where you can only brag about the quality of your hops and such, we get to talk about a beer inspired by the friendly spirits of Shoshone, namely, ‘Ghost Drinkers in the Bar.’”
Chelsea laughed. “That’s good.”
“We’ve worked up a little ditty for the commercial.” Gabe smoothed his mustache. “You oughta hear it.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Hey, they just got here. You don’t have to do this now.”
“Oh, I think we do.” Nick began to hum the tune for “Ghost Riders in the Sky.”
Dominique glanced across the table at Chelsea and Finn. “Sorry. When they get like this it’s impossible to control them.”
“And why would you?” Jack stood and motioned the other two to do the same. As the band started playing the song, the three brothers began singing it, or rather a version of it.
The word riders became drinkers, who seemed to be riding bar stools instead of horses. They were also the ones with the red eyes, and instead of pounding hooves they had pounding heads. The chorus was YouTube worthy, with the guys throwing their arms around each other’s shoulders and belting out the yippee-yi-yay part along with ghost drinkers in the baaaaarrrr.
Chelsea laughed so hard her sides ached. Through brimming eyes she glanced over at Finn, who was gasping for breath and wiping his eyes. She hadn’t seen him have so much fun in...forever.
When the men sat down again, Finn cleared his throat. “I give. With that kind of promo, Spirits and Spurs beer is going to dominate the market.”
Jack smiled at him. “I know.”
“Don’t count yourself out yet, Finn,” Chelsea said. “Don’t forget your ace in the hole.”
He glanced over at her. “What’s that?”
“Me.”
3 (#ulink_abed33f7-f181-5556-a78b-682784ec2134)
“GOOD POINT.” Finn had loved watching Chelsea crack up. Her cheeks glowed pink and her lashes were spiked with tears of laughter. “Gentlemen, I take back what I said. With Chelsea in my corner, I can face any comers.”
Jack nodded. “I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on her that she would be a worthy opponent. Never underestimate a woman with purple streaks in her hair.”
“Lavender,” Chelsea shot back.
“See what I mean?” Jack waved a hand in her direction. “She’ll stand up to anyone, even me. So, are we all gonna eat or dance?”
“Both!” called out a male voice.
Finn turned in his chair as a tall, fit man who was probably in his seventies walked toward them with a silver-haired woman who had the bearing of a queen. Finn stood, as did all the men at the table. Sarah Chance was in the building, along with her husband of only a few years, Pete Beckett.
They came over immediately to the newcomers, and Chelsea rose from her chair to greet them. “I can’t tell you how excited I am about tomorrow,” Chelsea said. “Thank you for hosting this event.”
“Yes, thank you, ma’am.” Finn looked into blue eyes that shone with intelligence and wisdom. He’d heard that Sarah was a special woman, and after only a minute or so of being in her presence, he understood why people said that. She gave off enough warmth and good humor to envelop everyone at the table, but Finn suspected she was also capable of silencing the entire group with a look.
Pete glanced around the table. “Have you ordered?”
“Not yet.” Morgan tossed back her red hair and gave her husband a pointed look. “Some people had to subject us all, including our guests, to ‘Ghost Drinkers.’”
“I see.” Pete rubbed a hand over his face as if hiding a smile. “Chelsea and Finn, I’d like to say that was an aberration, but I’m afraid things like that go on all the time around here.”
“I hope so,” Chelsea said.
“But not while you give your presentation.” Jack patted her shoulder. “You have my word that we’ll behave ourselves tomorrow afternoon.”
“But once everyone leaves, all bets are off.” Nick winked at her. “I have a feeling you can take it.”
“Oh, she can.” Finn felt compelled to alert them. “She can also dish it out, so watch yourselves.”
“I figured as much,” Jack said. “But didn’t you say you were starving, Chelsea? We’d better rustle up some grub. Then we can dance while we wait for it.” He glanced over at Finn. “I assume you dance?”
“Depends on your definition.”
“Hmm.” Jack didn’t look impressed by the response. “I hope you’re not into salsa.”
“Only with my chips.”
“That’s a relief.” Jack returned his attention to his menu. “Don’t know why I bother looking at this. I know it by heart. Give me your order, everybody. I’ll relay it to the cook.”
“I can call Heather over,” Josie said. “You don’t have to play waiter.”
“Heather’s running herself ragged tonight. I know the menu, probably better than she does. I can do it.”
Finn decided that he liked Jack. The guy had a sense of humor, but he also wasn’t afraid to pitch in when necessary. Finn had done the same many times at O’Roarke’s Brewhouse. Josie was the owner here, but Jack obviously tried to lighten her load.
After he disappeared with their order, Sarah cast a glance at her remaining sons and daughters-in-law. “I checked on the kids before we left and Cassidy seems to have everything under control.”
“Good,” Josie said.
“Thank God for Cassidy.” Morgan looked over at Chelsea and Finn. “My youngest sister. She’s the ranch housekeeper and she babysits the grandkids, although now that she has a boyfriend we have to make sure we plan ahead.”
Jack returned and pulled his wife out of her chair. “I have a plan. I finally have a night out with the woman of my dreams. Let’s hit the floor, lady.”
“I like that idea a lot.” Gabe offered his hand to Morgan. “Dance with me?”
“As long as you don’t sing in my ear.” But Morgan looked happy as she joined her husband on the floor.
Nick and Dominique followed, and Pete stood and held Sarah’s chair. He paused when Finn and Chelsea didn’t immediately leave the table. “How about you two?”
“We’ll be out there in a minute,” Finn said.
“You’re sure?” Sarah hesitated. “We don’t want to leave our guests sitting all alone.”
“We’re right behind you.” Finn grabbed his beer bottle and glanced at Chelsea. “I don’t know about you, but I need some Dutch courage.”
“I’m with you.” She took several swallows. “Okay, let’s do this thing.”
Finn didn’t feel ready, but Chelsea was on her feet. He pushed back his chair. “I don’t know a lot about dancing, but that looks like what they call country swing. It’s fairly popular around here.”
“Whatever you say. I’m pretty much clueless.” Chelsea studied the participants. “Lots of twirling and fancy footwork. But we might be able to fake it.”
“My specialty is standing in one spot and shuffling around.”
“That’s not going to work, Finn. They’ll run you over.”
“Should we reconsider? After all, you do have on sandals. If I don’t squash your toes I’m liable to place you in serious danger from somebody else. We could sit and drink beer, instead.”
“No, we need to try it. Maybe if we spin around a lot nobody will notice we don’t know what we’re doing.”
Finn sucked in a breath. “All right. Let’s go.” At the edge of the dance floor he grabbed Chelsea and began madly twirling her around the perimeter. He stepped on her a couple of times, but she didn’t yell, so it must not have hurt too much.
On his second circuit, Jack showed up beside them and grabbed his shoulder hard enough to stop the twirling. “What the hell is that you’re doing?”
Finn decided to brave it out. “The same thing you’re doing.”
“I think not.” He gently set Chelsea aside. “Stay right here, sweetheart. I’ll bring him back in a few minutes.”
“Hang on.” Finn stepped back, both hands raised. “Whatever you have in mind, I’m not doing it.”
“Work with me, O’Roarke.” Jack grasped his hand.
Finn pulled free. “I’m not dancing with you, Jack.”
“You weren’t dancing with Chelsea, either. You have two choices. You can continue to look like an idiot out on the floor or you can let me give you a quick lesson.”
“Three choices. I can head back to the table and drink.”
“You’re a quitter? Is that what you’re saying? I didn’t peg you for a quitter.”
Those were the magic words. Finn sighed. “Tell me what to do.”
“That’s better. Put your hand around my waist. Pretend I’m Chelsea.”
“She doesn’t have a five o’clock shadow.”
“And she has way fancier hair and I’m sure she smells better, too. Just focus on what I’m telling you. The idea is to describe a box with your feet and turn at the same time. Now go.”
“You do realize this will look ridiculous.”
“It’s no worse than the hot mess you were a bit ago. Come on, now, you built your own business. That takes cojones. This is just a little dancing.”
Finn could have used more beer, but if Jack was willing to make a fool of himself, then, what the hell? Might as well go along. Good thing nobody he knew was here except Chelsea. Having her watch was bad enough, but at least she’d admitted that she wasn’t very good, either.
Then he caught movement on the far side of the dance floor and realized Josie was dancing with Chelsea. “Hey! Your wife is dancing with my...” He trailed off, unable to come up with a proper title for her.
“Your what?” Jack exerted pressure on Finn’s shoulder to keep him moving in the right direction. “I’m no expert, but I feel a vibe between you two.”
“She’s my business associate.”
“Yeah, and I’m Elvis. Tell me another one. And lead with your other foot. There. That’s better. Good.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Anybody who owns a hat like yours should be able to dance the two-step. I think you have the basics. Josie’s coming around again with your business associate. We’ll trade partners.”
And just like that, Jack thrust him into Chelsea’s arms and the momentum kept them moving around the floor. Miraculously, they were even doing it in a synchronized fashion. “I’m not sure what just happened.”
“I think it was the fastest dancing lesson in history.”
“Embarrassing as it is to admit, Jack’s a good teacher.”
“Josie said he’s considered the dancing master at the Last Chance. He’s working with the kids now so that they’ll grow up knowing how.”
“You were right that it’s an important skill around here. And believe it or not, we might be actually doing it. More or less. Sort of.”
“We might.” She smiled as she gazed up at him. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun.”
“You know what? Me, either.” He wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but instead he twirled her around one more time and the music ended.
Jack came by and leaned toward them. “Good job. Now let’s eat.”
The food, as Josie had mentioned, was excellent. Finn noted that the pub fries were better than what he served at O’Roarke’s. Humbling, because he was proud of his establishment’s pub fries, but this little saloon in Wyoming did them better.
After dinner everyone danced some more. Jack suggested that he partner Chelsea while Josie partnered Finn. Finn improved a lot while dancing with Josie, but he was grateful once Chelsea was back in his arms.
He was comforted knowing that she wasn’t any more accomplished than he was, but that wasn’t the only reason he liked dancing with her. He’d discovered how much he loved holding her.
She felt so right cradled in his arms. He should have guessed that she would. The warmth in her eyes told him she felt the same way. This trip was designed to deliver a Hail Mary pass that would clinch the Kickstarter project and save the ranch. No small potatoes, there. But already it felt as if even more was at stake.
As the evening progressed, Jack kept bringing over more O’Roarke’s Pale Ale. Finn knew his inhibitions were disappearing, and he could tell from the way Chelsea danced with him that hers were, too. He had to stay strong.
She’d made it obvious months ago that she thought they could have a lot of fun together. He completely agreed with her. But starting an affair with her had the potential to make him forget everything else. They had an important mission to accomplish this weekend, and he couldn’t let anything distract him from that.
Dancing with her was safe enough, though. They had people all around them and he still had to concentrate on his footwork so he wouldn’t step on her or run into other couples. That left him very little time to think about how soft her breasts felt or how perfectly their hips aligned thanks to her high-heeled sandals.
Then they goaded each other into attempting a very fast number. They made a mess of it, but he was proud of them for trying. When the music ended they clung to each other, laughing and gasping for breath.
Gradually he realized he could feel the rapid thump of her heart as she leaned against his chest. His palm, which was flattened against the small of her back, rotated in a slow massage. He hadn’t been conscious of doing it at first. He looked down at her and she was looking right back at him, her full lips parted as she sucked in air.
The heat of her body was nothing compared to the heat in her gaze. On cue, his groin tightened. He released her slowly and stepped back as he fought to control his reaction. He hoped she hadn’t noticed, but when the corners of her mouth tilted up a fraction, he thought she had. Maybe dancing with her wasn’t so safe, after all.
Just his luck, the party broke up after that. Pam came over to tell them she was going back to the Last Chance so she could spend the night with her husband. Breakfast would be served as usual because her housekeeper, Yvonne, was also the cook.
Several people offered Chelsea and Finn a ride back to the Bunk and Grub, but Finn suggested walking and Chelsea quickly agreed. He couldn’t speak for her, but he needed a cooling-off period before stepping into a cozy B and B where his room was right next to hers.
At least he hadn’t brought condoms. He was grateful for that as they walked through the cool night air. Fortunately the thought hadn’t crossed his mind in connection with this trip, and even if it had, he would have made sure not to have any.
“That was fun.” Chelsea’s heels clicked on the sidewalk, a sharper sound than what his boots made. “I expected to like them and I do.”
“Me, too. Great family. I have a good feeling about tomorrow. Their support could put us over the top.”
“Yep.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s kind of nippy out here.”
“Yeah.” This cooling-off period had turned out to be just plain cold. If he’d had a coat, he would have given it to her, but he didn’t, and taking off his shirt would be ridiculous. He felt the chill, too, after all that dancing in a warm room. Her blouse was flimsy compared to his cotton shirt, so she must be freezing.
From the corner of his eye he could see her struggling not to shiver. Aw, hell, he had to do something about that. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to put my arm around you so you won’t be cold.”
“That would b-be lovely.”
“I didn’t think about how the temperature drops at night in late August.” He kept his tone nonchalant as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and matched his stride to hers. “Warm during the day and frosty at night.”
“S-so I see.” Nestling against him, she slid her arm around his waist. “Thanks.”
And he was no longer cold. She fit against his side and synchronized her steps to his as if they’d walked this way hundreds of times. He tightened his grip on her warm, firm shoulder and imagined touching her warm, firm skin.
Oh, God, now he was thinking of what else they could do that would be effortless. Kissing, for example. And then sliding out of their clothes and into a bed, either his or hers. The more turned on he became the faster he walked. He didn’t realize it until he heard their labored breathing.
He slowed down. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to start race-walking.”
“That’s okay.” There was a hint of laughter in her voice. “Good way to warm up.”
He could think of another good way. In fact, that seemed to be the only thing he could think about.
She stopped making conversation and so did he. No telling what would come out of his mouth in his current state.
Her scent teased him with possibilities. Her hair swung as they walked, brushing his shoulder. He wanted to thread his fingers through those silky strands, cup the back of her head and finally taste the lips he’d stared at for years. Years, damn it!
Instead of kissing her, he let her go when they reached the B and B’s porch steps so he could dig out his keys. As it turned out, she got to hers first and opened the front door.
He followed her into the silent entry. A trace of cinnamon hung in the warm air and a Tiffany-style lamp glowed in the parlor. Etched-crystal sconces along the stairway created an intriguing mix of light and shadow. He remembered they were alone on the second floor of the house. No other guests.
Chelsea started up the carpeted steps and he followed, keeping a safe distance behind her. No, there wasn’t such a thing as a safe distance. He watched hungrily as her snug jeans lovingly stretched over her backside as she climbed. Even though he’d slowed his pace, his heart thumped as if they’d run the whole way.
Rational thought drifted away as insanity gripped him. Her hand on the polished railing made him think of her hand on his cock. The lack of condoms was no longer a lucky circumstance that would keep him from doing something stupid. It was a damned inconvenience standing between him and paradise.
Neither of his best friends would have been caught in this situation. Yet here he was, aching for someone who would probably welcome him into her bed if he gave the slightest indication that he wanted to be there, and he was condomless.
Pausing at her door, she inserted the key in the lock. His fevered brain attached a sexual connotation to that, too.
But there would be no inserting anything because he was without those little raincoats.
She glanced at him as he approached her. Her face was in shadow, her expression hidden. “See you in the morning.” Twisting the key, she opened her door and started through it. Lamplight from inside the room skimmed her tempting silhouette.
He was pushed beyond reason into a world of primitive needs. Even as unprepared as he was, he couldn’t let her go. “Wait.”
She turned and peered up at him. “Finn, are you okay?”
“No.” His voice rasped in the stillness.
“What’s the matter?”
“I...” He stopped to clear the huskiness from his throat. “I want you so much I can’t breathe.”
“Oh.” Her beautiful mouth curved in a smile and she stepped back from the door. “Would you like to come in?”
“God, yes, but I...I didn’t anticipate this.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
Hope dawned. “Did you?”
“No, of course not.”
He groaned. “Then we can’t—”
“Maybe not that, but there are alternatives.”
Alternatives. The word stood out in flashing neon in his frazzled brain.
Curling her fingers into the front of his shirt, she pulled him slowly inside her room. “You haven’t dated since Alison. I haven’t dated since I asked you out. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Swallowing, he nodded.
“Good.” She took off his hat and laid it on the dresser. “Because I can hardly wait to get my hands on you, Finn O’Roarke.”
He had the presence of mind to kick the door shut before his brain shut down completely.
4 (#ulink_5f0a1a93-195a-535b-ae8c-d343a5d8ca5e)
CHELSEA HAD TRIED to be good. She really had tried, except for her earlier remark about the foot rub. When they’d had their hot moment on the dance floor, she hadn’t teased him about the hard ridge she’d felt pressed against her belly before he’d backed away.
He wanted to keep his distance, and she had vowed to honor that. She would have suffered the cold air on the walk home in silence because it was her own fault for not bringing a jacket. But then he’d wrapped his arm around her. The moment she’d felt his touch and the delicious heat of his body, a fantasy movie had started rolling in her head.
And now—against all odds—fantasy had become reality. Flattening her palms against his chest, she absorbed the wild beating of his heart as he combed his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back. His gaze moved hungrily over her face and settled on her mouth. He groaned. “Chelsea...” And then he was there, his velvet lips covering hers.
At last. Joy surged through her at the urgent pressure of his mouth and the deliberate thrust of his tongue. Oh, yes, this was good, and right, and ahhh...he could kiss better than any man she’d ever known.
He angled his head and went deeper, inspiring shocking thoughts about where else she wanted that talented mouth. He obviously knew what she’d meant when she’d suggested alternatives. They had all night, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t get started on that program ASAP.
She wrenched apart the snaps of his shirt, desperate to touch him. When she laid both hands against his muscled chest and stroked him there, he shuddered and lifted his mouth from hers. “I’m going crazy.” He gulped for air. “I have zero control.”
“That’s okay.” Pulse hammering, she slid her hand down to his zipper. Oh, my. What she’d felt on the dance floor had been a mere prelude. “I’ll just—”
“No, it’s not okay.” He caught her hand and brought it up to his mouth. His breathing ragged, he kissed her fingertips one by one. “We’re changing focus.”
“To what?”
His blue eyes glowed with intensity. “You.”
She gasped as a fresh wave of lust crashed over her. Her attention shifted to his mouth and her imagination kicked into high gear. She began to tremble. “I could live with that.”
His soft laughter gave her goose bumps. “Ah, Chels. You’re one of a kind.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
He held her gaze. “I never have.” Then he stepped back and looked her up and down, as if evaluating his next move. His attention settled on the belt circling her hips. “How does that come off?”
“Easy.” But eagerness made her clumsy and she messed it up somehow. She swore softly and kept working at the clasp.
“Let me see.” He knelt in front of her, moved her hands aside and had the belt undone in two seconds. As it slithered to the floor he slipped both hands under the hem of her tunic and before she could take a breath he’d unbuttoned her jeans.
As he started pulling them down, panties and all, her heart beat so fast she grew dizzy. “My...my shoes.”
“You get the blouse.” His voice rasped in the stillness. “I’ll get the shoes.” He unbuckled the straps and slipped off one shoe at a time, taking care that she didn’t lose her balance. His touch was nimble, practiced and incredibly erotic.
“You’re...” She paused to gulp in air. “You’re good at that.”
“Cowboy stuff.”
At first she didn’t get it and then she understood. Bridles, halters, harnesses—leather and buckles were no challenge to a man with cowboy skills.
He tenderly divested her of her jeans and panties, too. Still on his knees, he caressed her calves and gradually made his way up her quaking thighs. His questing fingers drew closer to the spot where she ached so fiercely that she barely contained a whimper of longing. She closed her eyes to savor his touch.
Then he paused.
She moaned softly. “Don’t stop.”
“Your blouse.”
“Oh.” He’d mesmerized her so completely that she’d forgotten her assignment. Grabbing the hem, she whipped the shirt over her head, then took off her bra and flung it after the blouse. Her breasts ached for his touch, too.
With a sharp intake of breath, he rose and stepped back.
She watched him and was thrilled by his awestruck reaction. Lifting her chin, she looked him in the eye. “See what you’ve been missing?”
His gaze roved over her. “Yes.” His chest heaved. “And I’m a damned fool.”
“Not tonight.”
“No, not tonight. Thank God for alternatives.” And with a swiftness that made her squeal, he swept her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. Then he pulled off his clothes with utter disregard for where they landed. That was so unlike Finn.
Her tidy little Victorian room took on the appearance of a ravishing. She was more than ready to be ravished, even if his options for accomplishing that were limited. But when she had her first unobstructed view of his package, she cursed the lack of condoms.
She’d thought fleetingly about bringing them, but that had seemed like tempting fate. If she’d brought them and then had taken the box home unopened, she would have needed more than a few bottles of O’Roarke’s Pale Ale to get over her disappointment.
But, oh, how she yearned for what he had to offer. “O’Roarke, I have one thing to say.”
“Only one?”
“Yes.” Viewing that kind of male beauty and knowing there were restrictions on enjoying it made her impatient. “Before tomorrow night, we’ll obtain a box of condoms.”
“It’s a small town, don’t forget. Word spreads.”
“I don’t care.”
He grinned. “You know what? Neither do I.”
If there was ever a more stirring sight than Finn naked and smiling, she’d never seen it. Her fantasies of him paled in comparison to the real man, his erect cock seated in a cloud of dark hair and his impressive balls tight with desire. Better yet, she’d inspired this aroused condition. No matter what happened after tonight, she’d carry that potent image with her.
He walked over to the bed. “Make room. I’m coming in.”
“I sort of expected that.” She scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He climbed onto the bed and immediately moved over her, rolling her to her back in the process. “For the next little while, we’ll be pretty much occupying the same area.”
Somewhere along the way he’d changed his attitude. Outside her door he’d been desperate yet hesitant to fully commit. Now he was all in. This new, more masterful Finn thrilled her to her toes. “You say that as if you’re in charge.”
“Not necessarily.” He leaned down and nibbled at her mouth. “But I think you’d like it if I took over.”
Oh, yes, she certainly would. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
And as he captured her mouth and cupped her breast in a slow, sensuous massage, she abandoned herself to the sensation of letting Finn be in charge. What a heady feeling, turning her body over to a man. She couldn’t recall ever doing that. In vulnerable situations, she preferred to be in control.
But it was no mystery why she could surrender so completely to him. His sense of honesty and fair play was bone deep. She’d known that from the moment they’d met. She trusted him more than any man she’d ever been naked with.
And because of that trust, she allowed herself to let go in a way that she never would have with someone else. As he ran his hands over her curves, she arched into his caress with a moan of delight. When he cradled her breasts so that he could use his mouth to drive her crazy, she let herself make all the noise she wanted to.
The pleasure he gave her was more intense because it was Finn. Finn was the man kissing his way down the valley between her breasts and over her quivering stomach. Finn was the man parting her thighs, the man who was about to bestow the most intimate of kisses.
His knowing touch made her gasp as he explored and stroked with clever fingers. His breath was warm against her damp skin and she trembled in silent anticipation. With the first swipe of his tongue, she cried out, electrified by the moist pressure on the most sensitive spot of all.
He did it again, drawing out the motion, and she sucked in a breath. “More.”
He obviously knew the meaning of more. In seconds she was writhing on the bed thanks to the wonder of Finn’s mouth. His hands bracketing her hips, he lifted her up so he could sink deeper, take more. He was definitely ravishing her. And she loved it.
She came in a rush, her breathless cries filling the small room. If she’d expected him to stop there, she’d underestimated him. He teased and taunted her until she spiraled out of control a second time. She forgot where she was as she spun in a whirlpool of sensation.
But she never forgot who was loving her. Finn O’Roarke was in bed with her at last, and the results were more spectacular than she could have imagined. But as he left her quaking center and returned to place a lingering kiss on her mouth, she reminded herself that alternatives included fun for both parties.
Disengaging was no easy task because he seemed to really like kissing her and she really liked him kissing her. But she had other plans for her mouth. Cupping his face in both hands, she pushed upward until he lifted his head. “My turn,” she murmured, looking into his passion-glazed eyes. They’d never seemed quite so blue.
“But I love making you come. I’m just taking a short break. You taste so good. I want to—”
“No. My turn. I mean it.”
He smiled. “I can tell. Your eyes are shooting sparks.”
“Fair is fair.” She ran her tongue slowly over her lips. “And I think you’ll have fun.”
As he stared at her mouth, his breathing changed.
“Think about how nice it will feel when I use my tongue on your—”
He groaned. “Lord help me, I want that.”
“Of course you do. We’re shifting the focus to you, O’Roarke.”
Dragging in a breath, he stretched out beside her. “This won’t take long.”
“Are you sure?” She straddled his thighs, feeling more uninhibited than ever in her life. She embraced showmanship in her job, but she’d never felt motivated to practice it in the bedroom. Two orgasms and a naked Finn stretched beneath her had turned her into a seductress.
“Absolutely sure.” His chest rose and fell rapidly and he clenched his jaw. “I’ve wanted you for five years.”
“Ditto.” His rigid cock was directly in front of her, magnificently erect with a drop of moisture gathered at the tip. She grasped the base of his penis and squeezed gently. “And now I have you, at least for tonight. If you prop some pillows behind your head you can watch me making you happy.”
He gasped. “Dangerous. I already feel as if I could come any second.”
“You won’t if I keep pressure here.” She tightened the circle created by her fingers and the muscles in his jaw gradually relaxed.
“That...helps.”
“Good. I want you to be able to savor this. Grab those pillows, Finn.”
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Vicki Thompson
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The last cowboy… All work and no play makes Finn a dull cowboy. Since his divorce, Finn O′Roarke has put all of his time into his Seattle-based microbrewery, unaware that back in Wyoming, his foster parents are on the verge of ruin. Now Finn and his foster brothers are trying to save Thunder Mountain Ranch–and only one woman can help them turn it all around.Marketing guru Chelsea Trask has had a thing for the gorgeous brewer for ages. When they work together at Thunder Mountain Ranch, however, she starts to see Finn′s cowboy side. And it′s irresistibly hot. Best of all, the attraction that′s been sizzling beneath the surface has erupted in some very sexy situations. But is Chelsea falling for the real Finn…or for the cowboy he used to be?