This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) Page 6

  Even now, ten feet away, she swore she could smell him. His rugged masculine scent drifted over to her, distracting her. Tempting her to forget she had a job to do.

  “Why the blond wig?” he asked after she’d refused to so much as glance at him. “You’re much prettier with dark hair.”

  “Oh, please.” Sophie rubbed her eyes. This sucked. She was too tired to drive tonight. And she had to get him back as quickly as possible. For her own peace of mind, if nothing else.

  “I’m not trying to butter you up. It’s the truth. Were you worried I’d recognize you?”

  She knew he was playing her. Or maybe he was still fuzzy about her identity and was looking for confirmation. She wasn’t about to fill in the blanks for him. “You like blondes, that’s why.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Every one of your girlfriends has been blonde. Think that might’ve given me a hint?”

  “It’s been three years since I’ve had a steady girlfriend. And she was a brunette...who happened to dye her hair blond.”

  Sophie snorted a laugh. “Do you ever hear yourself?” Without thinking, she spun around...and let out a squeal. “What are you doing?”

  The bastard was using something to pick the lock.

  “No. Oh no, you don’t.”

  She dove onto the mattress and crawled over to him. She leaned across his chest, trying to pry his free hand away from the handcuffs. Her right breast smooshed his face, startling him. Her, too. But it was probably the only thing that saved her, since she had barely reached his hand in time.

  Unable to get a good grip of his wrist, she threw a leg over him. Straddling him hadn’t been the objective, but there she was. She didn’t know which was worse, sitting on his junk and squeezing his hips with her thighs or having her boob in his face. But she couldn’t back down now.

  Pulling on his arm was like trying to move a boulder. “Damn you, Styles. Don’t you get it? You’re going back to Wyoming one way or another. Why are you making this so hard?”

  He grinned.

  Okay, unfortunate word choice. He didn’t have to be a child about it. She ignored him, other than to use all her might to pull his hand away...

  He went completely still. Relaxed his arm. Dropped the small pocketknife.

  “Would you stop that?” he growled. “I know you’re a lunatic, but my dick doesn’t, okay? So ease up. Damn.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Stop wiggling.”

  “Oh.” She stayed right where she was but tried not to move. Holy shit. There was a bulge under her left butt cheek. “Then stop trying to pick the lock.”

  “And how am I supposed to go to the bathroom, huh? Answer me that.”

  “Is that what this is about? You could’ve said—”

  “No. I don’t need to go now. But the point is, you can’t keep me prisoner like this. You know damn well it isn’t practical...” He trailed off and quietly exhaled, his eyes, wary and watchful, meeting hers dead-on.

  Sophie couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. Heat coursed slowly through her body as she fought the urge to touch his muscled shoulders and chest.

  They just stared at each other. His pupils were so big and dark she hardly saw any blue. She hated to think what she looked like with her wild tangled hair. Though the bulge under her fanny hadn’t subsided, so she couldn’t be the utter mess she imagined.

  She finally shifted her gaze to his hand, still secured to the bedpost, and she picked up the pocketknife. She had no reason to be sitting on him. Or staring at his bare chest.

  She gave the cuffs a reassuring tug, mostly for show, then lifted herself off him. Very carefully. No peeking, no unnecessary touching.

  One thing was for certain. She didn’t want to be tempted by his bare chest all night, so she’d have to figure a way for him to put his shirt on. As for his lower half, the sheet draped over his lap would have to do for now. It sure wasn’t lying flat, though.

  “So, how do you plan to deal with bathroom trips? Are you going in with me to be my...handler, so to speak?”

  Luckily it took very little for him to annoy the hell out of her. “You’re despicable.”

  Ethan laughed. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  Sophie rolled to the side of the bed and jumped off. “You have nothing I want.”

  “You sure about that?”

  She glanced back at him. “When you get thrown off a bull, you must land on your head a lot.”

  “Ah, rodeo humor. Not very good, though. Hey, don’t lose my pocketknife.”

  She shoved it deep into her jeans pocket. “Oh, so now I have everything you want, and you have nothing of interest to me.” She swept a pointed gaze over his body. “So, as for making a deal...” She shrugged. “Too bad.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “You should be. You’re in a lot of trouble, Ethan.” If he made her regret this, she’d save the court time and money and just shoot him. “What is it you want?”

  He started to smirk, then gave up the smug act. “Let me ride for Safe Haven,” he said, steadily meeting her eyes. “And you have my word I won’t run.”

  “What about the finals?”

  “I’ll make it to Vegas.”

  Sophie was on the verge of a colossal headache. He hadn’t been a stupid boy in school, and she assumed he hadn’t lost any IQ points since then. “I doubt you can do both and still meet your legal obligation.”

  “Watch me.”

  “How am I supposed to believe you won’t take off on me?”

  “Because I gave you my word.”

  “Right.” She rubbed her left temple.

  “Just like I gave Matt Gunderson my word I’d ride for Safe Haven.” He sure seemed intent on making a mess of his career. His life. “They haven’t done one of these benefits before. If it goes well, it’ll become an annual event. What do you think will happen if their headliner scratches at the last minute?”

  She sighed. Her job would be a lot easier if he was only pretending to be noble. But this wasn’t an act. Even back in high school Ethan had had a reputation for stepping in for the underdog, and not just her.

  With a small shake of her head, she reached into her pocket for the key. “What time do you ride?”

  “I think I’m last.”

  “Of course you are,” she muttered. “So, after that we leave, right?”

  “I’m on the lineup for Sunday, too.”

  “What if you get thrown on your ass before the eight seconds tomorrow?”

  With a deadpan expression, he said, “This isn’t about qualifying, so it doesn’t matter.”

  Boy, did she hope she’d packed aspirin. “We’ll split the difference. You ride tomorrow and then Sunday we drive straight to Wyoming. That way you can—”

  He was already shaking his head. “People paid a lot of money for tickets.”

  “I bet they pay even more for the finals.”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  “Oh yeah? Hmm.” She frowned at the key, and then at the lock. Anything to avoid those hypnotic eyes. “That should take care of everything.”

  “Sarcasm? Sure, that helps.”

  She glared at him then. “Your main problem is that you’re not concerned enough.”

  He had the most annoying habit of looking like the boy next door one minute, and sex wearing a Stetson the next. It had to stop. Being in the same room with him was nerve-racking enough. But this close?

  Just as she was about to free him, someone knocked on the door.

  “Oh, Ethan... Ethan Styles?” It was a woman’s singsong voice. “Are you in there, sugar?”

  Sophie stepped back. “You expecting company?”

  He shook his head, staring mute
ly at her.

  “Obviously you gave out your room number.”

  “Nope,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Was she being a total idiot? Once Sophie released him, that was it. She could barely stand this close to him without her skin feeling flushed.

  There was another knock. At someone else’s door.

  Sophie strained to hear.

  “Oh, Ethan...” Same woman, same question. Trying every door? That was sick.

  Kind of like her back in school. Sophie cringed at the memory of hiding under the bleachers to watch him run track. Begging for a transfer to auto shop, of all the dumb things, just so she could be in the same class as Ethan.

  Teenagers did lots of crazy stuff. She couldn’t let it get to her. And anyway, she’d bet the woman in the hall was a lot older than fifteen.

  She held the key poised at the lock. “Wait,” she said, and started when he put a shushing finger to her lips.

  It was unnecessary. No one in the hall could’ve heard her low pitch. And she’d bet he knew that. Yet she simply stood there, staring into the vivid blue of his eyes, while he lightly skimmed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip before lowering his hand. The move was so subtle, she’d be a fool to make anything of it.

  Her cousin was right. Lola had worried Sophie would have trouble dealing with Ethan. But she’d honestly thought he no longer had any effect on her. She was wrong. She would just be more cautious, that was all. Ultimately she trusted he’d keep his word.

  “We haven’t come to terms on Sunday yet,” she said, voice low and firm.

  Their eyes dueled a moment.

  “We’ll renegotiate tomorrow,” he said with a sexy smile that could get a ninety-year-old woman in trouble. “After the rodeo.”

  She laughed. “Oh, hell no.” Sophie jabbed a finger at him. “You will stick to me like glue until I tell you otherwise. I want your word on that.”

  He grinned as if he was enjoying this. “You’ve got it.”

  “And shut up when I tell you to shut up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Without the smirk,” she murmured as she inserted the small key, narrowing her attention to the task as she gathered her courage. “You think you know me. From where?”

  “Wattsville High.”

  Her heartbeat went bonkers, and heat flooded her face, but she refused to look at him. “Because I used my real name?”

  “No. I didn’t remember that.”

  Okay, at least that was settled. The second the lock sprang, she thought of something else. “Dammit.”

  “What?” He was quick to pull his wrist free.

  It was too late but she should’ve considered leaving him cuffed until she brought the Jeep closer and got her bag. She glanced at the cuffs still clamped to the bedpost. Maybe she’d leave it there for now.

  “Don’t worry. I’m staying right here,” Ethan said. “I’m not even going for that beer I’d wanted at the Watering Hole.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  He put a hand on her hip, and a soft gasp slipped past her lips.

  “Hands off,” she warned, as much with a glare as with words.

  “Mind moving so I can get up?”

  She ignored the subtle undertone of amusement in his voice and headed back to the window. After she saw him grab his jeans, she looked out through the parted drapes, aware of him moving behind her. The bathroom door closed and she sighed with relief.

  Her swirling thoughts would drive her insane if she didn’t get a handle on what to tell Lola. Sophie had had no business making any kind of deal with him. Would Mandy ever negotiate with a bail jumper? Not in a million years.

  The minute the rodeo started tomorrow, anyone who cared would know exactly where Ethan Styles was, so she had to tell Lola something.

  The smartest story to tell was mostly true. Ethan had unknowingly violated the terms of his bail and he was willing to cooperate. Which saved Sophie from having to fight off hordes of fans. Yes, some gray area existed, since she had Ethan in her clutches at this very moment, but no one had to know...

  It didn’t feel good lying to Lola like that. In fact, Sophie couldn’t recall having ever lied to her cousin, not about anything important, anyway. And here she was doing it now because of Ethan?

  God, he was like a drug. And she felt like a junkie. A cocky junkie telling herself she’d clocked in enough sobriety. She could resist him. Easy. Might as well have had denial tattooed across her forehead. She’d tempted fate, and fate had kicked her right in the butt.

  Her phone buzzed. It was Lola’s ringtone. Sophie hesitated, briefly before deciding it was better to talk now, while she had privacy.

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

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

  “Sophie? You there?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “And?” Lola’s impatience came through.

  “I’ll have to call you later.”

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

  She swallowed. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I gave you my word.”

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

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

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

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

  “Your choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  6

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

  Still black as night. Good.

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

  Not Sioux City. That was last month.

  Ah, Blackfoot Falls.

  That’s right...the Safe Haven Rodeo.

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

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

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

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

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