Authors: Roxy Boroughs
“I’m sorry.” His voice was low and halting. “I know how hard that can be.”
Emily didn’t comment. She’d heard all the words of sympathy before—offerings of understanding when there really were none.
“I have a sister—”
“I wondered about that,” she said, trying to brighten the mood. “Is her name Dallas, by any chance?”
“Dallas? No, it’s Allison.” He looked at her, puzzled. “Why did you think her name was Dallas?”
“Never mind. Just an inside joke of my own.” She wiped her fingers on one of the napkins. “What about her?”
He shifted his position, stretching his long legs out over the blanket. “Ally’s raising my nephew alone.”
Emily set her plate down. “The boy’s father left?”
“Yeah.” It was a simple reply, but his voice conveyed a complex mix of emotions within that one word. There was resignation coupled with a deep sense of sadness. Perhaps Houston did understand.
“How old is your sister?”
“Twenty-one now, and trying to finish up her high school diploma.”
“And she’s doing it all on her own?”
“She’s got me for support, but I know she regrets that her child is growing up without a dad.”
Emily nodded in agreement. “What about your parents? How do they feel about it?”
“Our mother died when we were both young.” He placed his empty plate on top of hers. “My father passed away six years ago.”
Emily chewed on her bottom lip, inwardly chastising herself for asking the question. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. Dad would have loved Liam.”
“That’s your nephew?”
“Yeah. He’s a great kid. Really smart. He just turned five and he’s already reading. And he can beat me at checkers. Honest. I used to try to lose, but now I really have to pay attention or the little guy creams me.” He chuckled and Emily laughed along with him. “Do you want to see a picture of him?”
“Sure.” Emily was curious, but mostly she was surprised. She didn’t know any men who carried photos of their nephews around with them, but apparently Houston did. He dug into his pants pocket, produced one out of his wallet and passed it to her.
Emily looked at the smiling face. The boy had dark brown hair, hazel eyes and an infectious grin punctuated by a dimple on either side.
“He’s darling.” She gave the photo back to Houston, her fingers brushing against his. A wave of heat coursed through her. She held her breath as he reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from her face, his palm cupping her cheek in a soft caress.
“I’d like to see you again, Emily.”
This was the time to speak up, to tell him that she wasn’t interested. But, the synapses between her mouth and the speech center in her brain weren’t functioning properly. Not while he was touching her. She opened her lips to give him his walking papers but something entirely different came out.
“Did you get the job?”
His hand dropped. “The what?”
She didn’t need a psychologist to figure out that she’d just employed a delaying tactic, using the old switch-o-change-o routine and substituting another topic in place of the one that she couldn’t handle. Fortunately, in her case, it seemed to work. Houston got the message and pulled back. “Sam told me all about it.”
“He did?”
Boy, had he ever gotten the message. Her cowboy had gone from talkative to monosyllabic in ten seconds flat. “Yes, about how you teach the kids to ride by showing them what not to do. Your routine the other day was hilarious. You must have the children in fits.”
Houston stood up, walked over to the base of the tree and picked up a stick. His head was down, his mood dark.
“I’m sorry. Was it supposed to be a secret?”
“No. That’s okay.” He tossed the branch, javelin-like, toward the buggy.
It obviously wasn’t okay. Emily pulled herself up and moved to his side. “Didn’t you get the position?” The thought of his leaving for the next job in the next town left her feeling numb. “Look, I can put in a good word for you, if you like. I think you’d be just perfect for the—”
“It’s all right. It’s just that I...” His words evaporated as he turned and looked at her. Emily grew warm under the intensity of his gaze. Her fingertips were cold, but the rest of her was hot.
Red hot.
Her tongue slid out from between her teeth and moistened her lips. It wasn’t until after she’d accomplished the action that she realized what she’d done. She’d sent a message to Houston as clearly as if she’d spelled it out for the guy.
Kiss me, please. I’m desperate for you.
The idea brought her back to reality with a jolt. She was supposed to be fending him off, not egging him on. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step away.
The picnic had been a mistake. Every minute she spent with Houston was another minute that threatened her resolve. How could she keep her vow when all she wanted was to feel his arms around her? Experience his lips on hers.
“I should be heading back.”
He looked confused for a moment and that was fine with her. Hell, why should she be the only one who was confused.
“Sure. Whatever you say,” he answered, his jaw tight.
“I’ll start tidying up.” Emily bent over and began to cover the food, swatting away a couple of flies and several yellowjackets.
It was then that she saw the shadowy mass. It hovered near a large, papery gray cone, which hung from the footboard of the abandoned buggy.
And something odd was poking out of that cone. She squinted until she could see what it was.
Houston’s stick, the one he had thrown, had made a perfect landing. It was impaled right through the middle of the nest. And a dark swarm of angry insects was on its way to express their displeasure at the cowboy’s lucky shot.
“Wasps!”
In an instant, Houston was at her side, grabbing her hand. “Run!”
She didn’t need to be told twice. They booted it over the hill, Emily’s heart pumping in time with her legs.
She caught Houston sneaking a peek behind them. “Don’t look back.” he ordered. “Keep running.” Without warning, he changed direction, pulling her along with him. “There’s a pond. Come on.”
They ran to the edge of the water, past two startled horses, and jumped in.
“Hold your breath,” Houston told her. He pushed her under and led her toward the middle of the pond. She kept her eyes closed, her senses shut off, save for the muted sounds of the water in her ears and the constant pressure of Houston’s hand holding hers. Then she felt a tug on her arm. She straightened her knees and came to a standing position, waist deep in the watering hole.
“It’s okay. They’re gone.”
Emily shook her head, puppy-dog fashion, and took a gulp of air. She looked around and saw the swarm retreating back in the direction of the picnic.
“That run certainly worked off lunch,” she joked between breaths. She expected Houston’s ready laugh to join hers, but heard nothing.
She turned, curious. Maybe he’d been stung. She blinked the water out of her eyes and focused on him. Two red welts had already appeared on his skin, one on his neck and one just above his collar. She fingered the area around each wound.
“I have some medicine back at my truck.”
When he didn’t reply Emily glanced up. For a man who’d just been stung, he had a strangely contented look on his face.
Emily followed his line of vision down to the front of her wet blouse. Her white, cotton shirt was matted to her body, revealing her skimpy bra beneath. Even from her perspective she could see the pink of her nipples showing through the material. She imagined Houston had an even better view. In fact, she could guarantee it. His ragged breath might have been in response to their recent dash, but that fiery look in his eyes came from a more primal place.
He grasped her shoulders. A part of her prayed that he’d kiss her. The other more logical part...well…it was kind of hopeful about it, too. She watched as he moved closer and closer, until his mouth brushed against hers.
Just say no to cowboys. Just say...
“Mmmmmmm.”
His grip around her tightened as he traced a line of soft kisses along her cheek. “Emily, when can I see you again?”
“Oh, Houston,” she heard her breathless voice say, “I can’t.”
He pulled away. Slightly. “You’re not seeing someone else, are you?”
“No. It’s nothing like that.”
“Good. Then answer my question,” he whispered against her neck as he nibbled his way to her collarbone.
How could she answer? She couldn’t even think straight. “Houston,” she gasped, “we have a problem.”
He gave a low chuckle. “More than you know, darlin’, but let’s not get into that right now. We’ll approach this another way. If you weren’t going to see me again, when would be the best time to do it?”
It took her a while to figure out what he was aiming at. “I’m checking on Tulip again this Friday, but I don’t think—”
“Friday is perfect. We can meet early, chat over drinks, have dinner together—”
“But Houston, you don’t understand. I made a vow...” The rest of her sentence came out in a moan as his lips descended onto hers once more. This cowboy must have used liquor in his lip balm, because she was definitely getting tipsy. By the time he came up for air again, she was mush. If he hadn’t been holding onto her, she would have floated away.
“Now, I have only one question left,” he said, curling an arm around her and guiding her out of the pond. “How am I gonna get you back to your truck safely with you looking like that?”
Emily wrapped her outside arm across her chest. “Are you worried about protecting me from the other cowboys?”
“No, ma’am.” He smiled. “I’m worried about protecting you from
me
.”
CHAPTER FOUR
When the clock radio kicked in the next morning, Emily was already awake. Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling as she listened to a nasal-toned tween sing about…
Friday.
Until this morning, she’d never noticed how the stucco nubbies above her formed little pictures. There was a section over her bed that looked like a lion, and one in the corner that resembled a boot. Or maybe it was Italy, Emily mused, remembering her basic geography. But it was the image above the door that really drew her attention. The stucco bits swirled into the shape of a cowboy hat.
Friday.
She pulled back the covers and kicked her legs out on top of the blankets. “It’s just another day,” she told herself and headed for the bathroom.
As she passed the closet, Emily paused. She eased back the sliding mirrored door and peered in.
The right side was home to her fancier duds—dresses, skirts, and a lone business suit, purchased when she was meeting bank managers and arranging the loan to start up her clinic. She let her fingers glide over the lighter fabrics of her summer dresses, stopping at her favorite. It was cut from a cool, silky material. Delicate rose colored flowers played across a dark blue background.
“No.”
She jerked her hand away as though it had been licked by fire. Jeans would be fine. It was another ordinary day, after all. It wasn’t as if she was doing anything special. She wasn’t going out to dinner with Houston Saveloy.
She pulled a pair of denims off the hanger and tossed them onto the bed, throwing a plain cotton shirt on top. She reached for her gym bag and placed it beside the pile.
“That was Rebecca Black and you’re listening to CKFM,” the radio DJ informed her. “We’re coming up to six o’clock on this beautiful Friday morning—a perfect day for the Stampede parade, which will begin shortly after nine a.m. and journey straight through the heart of downtown. It’s already fifteen degrees Celsius in Calgary. We’re expecting a big high of twenty-seven, that’s eighty-one degrees Fahrenheit for you diehards. And speaking of diehards, stay tuned for a classic from Madonna...right after this.”
Emily gave her bottom lip a nibble. Jeans would be warm.
She touched the dress again. A light, summer fabric would be nice for a change, and it was ultra-feminine to boot. After she made her rounds, it would be refreshing to have something cool to slip into, regardless of her plans for that evening.
“I have no plans,” she reminded herself, pulling out the blue dress, hanger and all. She placed it on the bed beside the other clothes and trotted off to the bathroom humming.
Forty-five minutes later, she met Jackie at Prince’s Island Park for their usual Friday morning run. Half an hour on the treadmill, a couple of times a week, helped Emily keep in shape and work off stress. The Friday ritual of running ten kilometers with Jackie had started as a workout challenge. That initial purpose was soon forgotten and, instead of a purely physical exercise, the run was fast approaching a social one, with Jackie stopping to pet every dog that passed their way. Especially if a good looking, male human was holding the other end of the leash.
“Whaddaya think?” Jackie asked, tossing her locks in a Charlie’s Angels kind of way as they began their pre-run stretches.
Emily examined her friend’s hair. “It’s very black.”
“It’s supposed to be black. Haven’t you seen Angelina Jolie’s new do?”
“But I’d just gotten used to the red.”
“Oh, Emily. You’ve got to experiment more. Live a little.”
If only Jackie had seen her in that pond with Houston Saveloy, his hands on her body, his mouth on her...
“Hello? Is anybody home?”
Emily heard Jackie’s words distantly. It was the hand waving in front of her face that brought her back to the real world. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
“Musta been good. The last time you looked like that, Ryan Reynolds was running around naked in
The Proposal.
” With that, Jackie took off on her run, the sound of laughter trailing behind her.
When Emily caught up, Jackie gave her a devilish smirk. “No. I’m lying. I’ve seen that look on your face more recently. It was the other day at Eduardo’s, when that cowboy came to our table and started flirting with you.”
Emily’s cheeks burned. “Me? He wasn’t flirting with me!”
“Well, he sure as heck was flirting with one of us and it wasn’t yours truly.” Jackie looked up at her with eyes as woeful as a basset hound’s. “Too bad for me. He was a total babe.”