Catch Me A Cowboy (17 page)

‘Ow,' she said.

He released his grip. ‘What's the matter?'

She lifted her finger closer to see. A dark sliver was digging into the skin. ‘A splinter? I haven't had a splinter since I was a kid.'

Wil took her wrist and looked closer at her finger. ‘That's a decent size. Come on, let's go sit down and I'll get it out for you.' She followed him along the jetty that sprawled across the glistening blue dam and took a seat beside him on the blanket that had been set up for them both. ‘Do you think you got this yesterday? Maybe from the sty palings?'

She shook her head. ‘No. It's fresh. It would be from the fencing I was holding for your dad.' It was out of her mouth before she realised.

His eyebrows arched. ‘My dad?'

She nodded. ‘Um. Yeah. I wasn't going to mention it with the cameras around. I went for a walk this morning and met William.'

Wil drew a deep breath in. ‘Well then. And you helped him with fencing?' He grinned as he asked that, as though he couldn't believe it.

She smiled triumphantly. ‘And I did a good job too. Except for the splinter.'

He reached for her hand and brought her finger closer to his eye. ‘And what do you think of Dad?'

‘A lovely man. You look like him.'

He took his thumb and finger to the splinter and pulled at it quickly.

‘Ow,' she said and yanked her arm back, but he held tight to her wrist. Pulling her hand closer, he blew gently on the tip of her finger until she was no longer thinking about the pain, utterly distracted by those lips and the sensation of his warm breath. What delicious beast did that? Pulled out a splinter then blew on the wound.

A deep, throbbing ache stung her low. Biology took over, clouding her thinking. He released her hand and, acting on primal urges, she pressed both of hers onto the blanket, shifted onto her knees and crawled towards him until her face was centimetres from his. The scent of this man caressed her, sinking deep between her thighs as though it were his plunging fingers. Looking into his eyes, she asked, ‘Who the hell are you, Will Parker? I've never met a man like you.'

A throaty groan sounded as he fisted her hair and pulled her closer until their lips forcefully touched. Cameras or not, she wanted this man like a wild beast sought its prey. This setting, the unadulterated ruggedness of him, had her kissing him like she was starved. In a way, she was, because she'd never had animal urges like these. Urges that trumped all rationality and thinking.

And he met her, tongue for tongue, breath for breath, touch for touch. If there wasn't an audience, she could fuck him right here. She knew that without a doubt. Her body, mind completely tossed aside, ached for him.

He tasted like sex and as his tongue slid against hers, he sure as hell felt like it too. Good sex. Great sex. The kind that presents you with an O, over and over. She wanted to sink deeper into him but knew she couldn't. Not now. If she wanted any respectability when she left this show, she had to pull away. But it killed her, not softly, but blunt and violently, to do so.

She pulled back, breaths heavy and didn't look at that face of his if she wanted to retain any strength and not lunge at him again. Eyes downcast, she breathed in deeply, until she could gather a modicum of control. Eventually, she lifted her gaze to meet his. He was looking at her how he had looked at her last night, with pure aroused hell. Because that's what this was—not being able to do all the things she wanted to do to him—a hell.

A smile spread across Wil's lips. He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding. ‘Do you want a drink?'

They both burst into laughter and Emily continued to laugh until her stomach hurt. It was the only way to relieve the tension that pulsed between them like big flashing lights. They continued to chuckle and giggle as Wil uncorked a bottle of champagne and laid out a spread of strawberries and chocolate truffles.

‘Thank you,' Emily said, taking a glass of bubbly from him.

He uncapped a bottle of beer for himself and held it up. She chimed her glass against the neck and took a sip. Expensive. And she didn't miss that the flute was crystal. So this, to him, was a time and place for “nice”. She agreed, royally.

She eyed the platter of food and her tummy rumbled. ‘You just reminded me that I didn't have lunch today.'

‘You should have said something. I could've organised—'

‘I'm fine. Really.'

‘Why no lunch?'

She smiled. ‘Oh you know, I was using my muscles and getting my hands dirty. Time slipped away.'

‘I'll have to have a talk with Dad. Make sure he doesn't leave you hungry again.'

She shook her head. ‘It was my fault. And, besides, we were having a good old chat. And lunch slipped my mind, along with our date.'

He arched a brow. ‘Are you saying I'm forgettable?'

She shrugged and smiled. ‘Hardly.'

‘So what did you chat about?'

‘He was making sure you were using your manners.'

Wil laughed and shook his head bemusedly. ‘And what did you say?'

‘I said you've been so-so.'

He winced. ‘Harsh.'

She grinned. ‘No, I said you were very polite.'

‘That's better.'

Emily popped a chocolate truffle in her mouth and sighed. ‘Yuumm.'

‘Good, eh?'

‘Very.' When she finished chewing, she had another sip of her champagne and looked out over the deep dam. ‘So you're obviously close to your parents?'

‘A requirement when you work the family farm together. We've our moments, like all families I guess, but we've a solid relationship.' He had a slug of beer, then rested his bottle on the blanket. ‘What about you?'

‘My parents both live in different states now, so I don't see them often enough, but I love them both to bits.'

‘When you say different states, you mean they're divorced?'

She lowered her gaze and nodded.

‘Makes it tricky, doesn't it?'

She nodded.

‘Yeah, my ex-wife …' he trailed off and grinned abashedly. ‘I should not be talking about my ex.'

Emily shrugged. ‘It's fine.'

‘I was just going to say that I understand. Her parents were divorced and it made Christmas time hell. It was always a mission to not offend anyone and an effort to share the time evenly between the in-laws and the parents.'

‘You know what I think the worst part is? Not feeling comfortable going into their homes and opening the fridge. Or staying there. They've both remarried, so I've never had that sense again that their home is mine.'

‘That'd be tough. I'm doubly grateful that Mum and Dad have been married for nearly thirty-five years.'

‘Wow. That's …'

He arched a brow as he waited.

‘Enviable,' she finally managed.

He cocked his head to the side. ‘I've never thought of it that way. I always saw it as a really high benchmark that so far I've come nowhere near achieving.'

She lowered her gaze to her glass as she took another sip. ‘There's time.'

He laughed. ‘Yes, Emily. There's that.' He glanced out at the dam, then back to her. His mouth was curled cheekily. ‘They still hold hands.'

Emily's eyes widened. ‘I sensed your dad was a sweetie.'

‘After so many years he says when he looks at Mum, it still feels like that first time they met.'

She threw her hand to her chest and tears pricked her eyes. That was the most beautiful thing in the world. ‘I want that.' And she did. In a way, she always had. But it was her issues that always got in the way. Emily knew that. She also knew, deep down, that the fact she was on her own came down to her innate distrust of men and her inability to completely risk her heart, her independence, and her finances for one.

Wil nodded and said softly, ‘Me too.' Intuitive of her prior trail of thoughts, he asked, ‘Have you ever been in love, Em?'

Emily smiled, but it was tense. ‘Yes.' She was capable of loving and being loved, but she couldn't make it last. It was as though when she felt that magnetic, all-encompassing tug of emotion at her heart, was when her defences came up the strongest and her insecurity and distrust hit the hardest. She guessed because, until then, she had nothing to lose. But once her soul had been snared in a love trap, she was opening herself up for a world of hurt.

He arched a brow. ‘More than once?'

She nodded. ‘A few times.'

He nodded slowly and by the impartial expression on his face, she couldn't discern what he was thinking. Did he assume now that she wasn't worth the risk? Because he'd be right if he was thinking that. In fact, she hoped he was thinking that because it would save him a lot of trouble in the future.

Did he think she was a heartbreaker? Because she was one of those too. She'd broken exactly three hearts in her lifetime and neither of those guys deserved it. And she'd probably break Wil's too if they ever got that far.

But this was a game, right? They both knew that. She was telling herself that, despite how bright and brilliant everything felt when she was with him. And despite the urgency inside her guts to unravel everything that was Wil Parker until he was laid out before her, and she knew every facet of his soul.

‘I'm sorry it didn't work out. But, at the end of the day, not everything does. And besides, you'd never have turned up on my farm if it had.'

She smiled at him. ‘Very true.'

Chapter 22

All the time Wil and Emily chatted he wanted to press his lips hotly against hers again. Hell, he wanted his entire body crushed to hers, his hands all over her. Especially when she brought a truffle to her mouth and chewed it, intermittently licking the chocolate from her lips. If the cameras were not here, he'd be leaning over and sucking that chocolate directly from her lips then continue tasting her until the sun set.

His chest still ached to feel again that unleashed need inside her, directed at him. She had restrained herself because of present company, and he could only imagine what she was like behind closed doors. He had to see her again. He would not be able to sleep tonight if he didn't get to kiss her again.

As the sun was setting, they hopped back in Wil's car and drove to the farmhouse. Under normal circumstances, if this was a real date, he'd ask her in. But there were so many restrictions and rules, it was driving him crazy.

They climbed from the car and lingered out the front of his house. He took her hand and she smiled up at him.

‘Thank you for a great afternoon,' she said.

He leant in and kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear, ‘A shame it couldn't be longer.' Her heat wrapped around him and caressed warmth into his flesh. That bounty of desire sitting just below the surface of his skin stirred.

Emily sighed. ‘I know.'

He frowned and entwined his fingers with hers, now holding both hands. ‘I won't see you again until the next elimination cocktail party.'

Which was in two days' time. He wanted to groan just thinking about it. His eyes locked with hers, in a silent communication. ‘I'd love to meet you before then.'

She nodded, a knowing glint in her gaze. ‘Mmmmm that would be nice.'

Again he leant in and kissed her mouth, this time lingering against her lips. His nose trailed over her jaw and he whispered in her ear, ‘Ten.'

Her breathing grew heavier, a tell-tale sign of her want. Eyes closed, she moved her lips to his ear and whispered, ‘A-ha.'

The sensation of her warm breath had him tightening with need. Holy hell, he was fast going to lose control where she was concerned. Leaning back, he said, ‘I'll see you at the party, Emily.'

She nodded and smiled and let their hands slowly pull apart.

Now that wasn't at all obvious—he hoped. But who knew how attuned these cameramen and directors were to the goings on of their hearts.

Thankfully tonight, the after-date questioning was brief. With two dates to dissect, there was only so much to say. Wil was grateful when the production crew left and his solitude was returned to him. With so many people around, day in day out, invading his personal space, questioning him, demanding of him, he hadn't realised how much he appreciated seclusion.

Over the last few years since his divorce, he'd not understood how comfortable he was in his own company. But that didn't negate his desire for a lover. Being in a relationship brought a different kind of solitude—a partnership of privacy. He'd love to curl up on the couch at night with a woman, then follow her to their bed. He missed waking up with a warm body pressed to his and having someone to spoil with affection. He wanted that above all else. And for the first time in a long time, it now seemed like an actual possibility. With Emily.

He headed upstairs to his bathroom for a long, hot shower. He would do his best not to think about Emily, about their date today, and what would come later when they met under the tree. He undressed and turned the taps on until a warm stream of water flowed. Jumping in, he had soap to flesh, a lather forming, when a thought hit him and he chuckled. In his imagination, Emily was in here with him, and it was her naked flesh he was soaping, her rounded arse cheeks he was nudging up against with his aching shaft. Anticipation and excitement rushed at him, fuelling his blood and breath. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to feel good about the prospect of another relationship.

Picturing himself with someone else wasn't something he had granted himself permission to do. Every time he ventured there, even during the brief relationships he'd had since his divorce, an overwhelming ache formed in the centre of his chest. The wound Billi had inflicted upon him was scarred and gnarled—difficult to iron out. She was his first love and his last. Her betrayal was enormous. And he hadn't believed it possible to even consider loving another, let alone loving again. He didn't love Emily. Not so soon, but there was a potential that love could blossom between them.