This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) Page 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  God, he wanted to touch her.

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

  Well, shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Hell. She was just too tempting.

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

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

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

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

  It would be worth it.

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

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

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

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

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

  * * *

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

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

  Her eyes popped open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  The bed was empty.

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

  “Looking for me?”

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

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

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

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

  “Nope. Go for it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  How could Ethan have said something so hurtful?

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

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

  No way. It couldn’t be almost noon.

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

  Huh.

  She noticed something black on her fingertips. She checked the phone, but it was fine, so she set it down. Her other hand was also smudged. Glancing down at her red shirt, she saw that it was clean. And her jeans, well, who could tell...they were brand-new and still dark blue.

  The dye maybe?

  A thought struck her.

  She grabbed her bag and turned it upside down on the bed, not sure whether or not she wanted to be right about the cause of the mysterious smudges. After checking every inside pocket, she dumped the meager contents of the purse she hated carrying but kept on hand.

  God bless Lola and her makeup addiction. And for giving Sophie some of her castoffs. The blush compact was small, the mirror tiny. But it did the job.

  Sophie stared at her raccoon eyes and laughed. She wasn’t used to wearing the epic amount of makeup she’d put on with the wig and obviously had done a poor job of removing all of it.

  She found some tissue and went to work fixing her face, relieved she’d misunderstood Ethan. Though she had the feeling she would’ve been better off thinking he was a jerk.

  7

  “ARE YOU SURE this is a private ranch?” Sophie asked as they pulled into the Lone Wolf in Ethan’s truck. They’d argued over who would drive and ended up flipping a coin.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s been in the Gunderson family for several generations. Matt owns it now. Keep an eye out for a place to park.”

  Sophie recognized his friend from the bar last night. “Look, isn’t that Matt motioning for you?”

  “Yep. He must’ve saved us a spot.”

  Sophie glanced around at the rows of parked cars close to the gravel drive, the trailers and motor homes lined up to the right of the beautiful two-story ranch house with green shutters. The two barns were easy to identify, and so was the large stable, but she had no idea about all the other smaller buildings.

  “That must be the new arena he built,” Ethan said as he pulled up to Matt and lowered his window.

  Sophie saw the large structure standing north of the corrals. Behind it were acres of sloping pastureland.

  “Were you expecting this kind of turnout?” Ethan asked his friend.

  Matt’s sigh ended with a mild curse. “We’ve got some kinks to work out, that’s for sure.” He looked at Sophie, nodded and then did a double take.

  “Long story,” Ethan muttered. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Should be good. See that kid with the yellow flag?” Matt pointed. “He’s holding a place for you. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” He smacked the side of the truck and stepped back.

  They were shown to a parking spot next to the arena. The huge building was definitely new with a green roof and rust-colored wooden siding. She couldn’t imagine what it was used for besides hosting a rodeo, and she wouldn’t find out anytime soon judging by the mob about to converge on them.

  Or rather on Ethan.

  The crowd barely let the poor guy climb
out of the truck before they swarmed him. Two reporters pushed their way to the front. The thirtysomething man wore credentials around his neck, and the woman had a cameraman with her. A cowboy Sophie had seen at the bar last night stood to the side, grinning and watching fans shove pens and pictures in Ethan’s face.

  He accepted the attention better than she would have. He smiled politely, greeted a few people by name and pretty much ignored the pair of blondes wearing skintight jeans and showing off their boob jobs.

  Sophie took a discreet glance at herself. Okay, so she had no room to talk. Her jeans could’ve been sprayed on. The boobs were all hers, though. She pulled her shoulders back. It helped some.

  A heavyset man wearing a diamond pinkie ring the size of her Jeep, and who’d been talking with Ethan, turned and gave her a friendly smile. “Now, who do we have here?”

  Sophie had purposely stayed back and hadn’t expected any interaction. She cleared her throat. “Sophie,” she said, and stuck out her hand.

  He seemed surprised but broadened his grin and shook hands with her. “You’re here with Ethan?”

  They should’ve discussed this in case someone asked. For God’s sake, why hadn’t they? She smiled, nodded, managed a quiet “Yes.” And hoped the man would leave it at that.

  “Sorry, Hal,” Ethan said, appearing at her side. “I should’ve introduced you two right off.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and smiled at her, his eyes asking her to go with it. “Sophie’s my girlfriend.”

  “You don’t say.” The man seemed delighted. “Good for you, Styles. Though you best watch yourself. Your young lady has quite a grip,” he said, chuckling and flexing his hand.

  “Um, sorry.” She’d been told that many times.

  “No need to apologize,” he said, winking at her. “This boy needs a firm hand.” Hal was mostly bald, had no facial hair, but for some reason he reminded her of an overly friendly Santa Claus. “I’ll leave you to finish signing autographs, son. I’m sure we’ll meet again, Sophie.” He gave her a nod and then wandered toward the arena entrance.