Chapter Fifteen
Toby braced the back of his forearm over his mouth and bit his skin to hold his peace, flopping against the hallway wall, clenching his eyes closed. Orgasmic. He hadn’t expected to see a stripped-down Rose and certainly hadn’t expected her to say that. He hadn’t really been thinking about anything when he’d heard her distressed cry and thump. Some primal instinct had kicked in and overrode all good sense—and, hot damn, her body was rockin’.
He’d only seen her for a split second, but he’d never be able to unsee those beautiful curves, those mile-long legs that no doubt could coil around his rear nice and snug while he rode himself upon her, her luscious breasts spilling over her attempts to hide them. This gorgeous woman was in his shower. No one had ever been in his shower. Of all the things they could do in that shower…
Their bodies water-soaked and slickened, their skin warm, her back braced to the stone tile, his hips buried between her thighs, his teeth biting her lips, fingers tweaking and massaging her nipples, her nails scoring his shoulders—he tingled with need just at the thought and shoved his hand behind his zipper to pull the cowboy confined in his jeans upright to ease the pain.
He trotted downstairs, but everywhere he looked he saw Rose. Naked.
“I’m an idiot,” he grumbled aloud.
He strode into the great room and past the tables the crew had set up where the coffee table had been. Some archival boxes were stacked at one end, and paper bags with a blank ID template stamped upon them to write artifacts identifiers on were sitting in a few piles, alongside a plastic tray of pens. Damn, but wherever her students had driven off to, he hoped they stayed there. He’d toss his cute archaeologist down onto these tables and do the nasty right here if he could.
No, you wouldn’t. His conscience chastised him.
Yes, he’d fantasize, but with Rose, he felt different about doing. It was the strangest thing. He’d never had a problem checking out a fine-looking female and bending her over nice and slow on a motel bed, but just now, he’d panicked. He’d seen Rose in a vulnerable way, and he felt bad about it. Like some creepy Peeping Tom. Like he’d somehow betrayed her trust.
You’ve never really gotten to know a woman before—until now, that’s why you feel nervous, his conscience reminded him, as if the ruler-thumping angel on his shoulder needed to flog him further. No, he’d been Love ’em and Leave ’em Toby. Dance it up, drink up, drop into the nearest bed and get his horizontal two-step on.
Tapping at his phone, he turned on his internet radio and paced into the kitchen where he poured coffee grounds into the reusable filter and water in the top, punched the Brew button, and peeked out at one of his ranch hands loading supplies into a Dixon Cattle Co. truck. The water percolated, bubbling and hissing as the cold water traveled through the coils, and he could hear the water pipes running from the shower upstairs.
He snatched a glass from his cupboard, running it under the tap, and knocked it back. Get yourself together, bro. You gotta be serious. She’s got a kid. She’s got a life. She’s got her shit together and hasn’t let anyone or anything derail her. He continued the mental pep talk as he refilled his glass. If he wanted her to trust him enough to go deeper, he needed to show her he cared about things bigger than himself. She’d respected his plans to rehabilitate the grasslands and establish an education program, but, man, you just downplay that shit. You don’t act proud of it. She doesn’t see you as ambitious.
“She needs to see that there’s a chance,” he said to himself. “That she can trust you.”
She needed to see that he wasn’t just another Howie or another dude at a club, interested in the package but not interested in the aftermath.
“You gotta man up. Open up.”
Great. He’d become one of those midlife-crisis men who talked to themselves. He ought to get another dog so he could really live up the country song misery. Momma dead, big ol’ diesel dualie, dog in the front seat, cold beers in the Grizzly. He chuckled at the absurdity. But after speaking those words into existence just now, hearing them echo in his mind, he felt reality slap him like a wet sheet on a windy day.
“Man up.”
He’d spent his whole high school life listening to his dad harp at him. How many times had Harold Dixon lamented that Toby’d drive this ranch into financial ruin if he couldn’t get his head out of his ass and stop running with the rougher crowd, get out from under his truck blocks, get off the damned rodeo wagon?
The only support he’d gotten had been from his mother.
“Do what interestsyou, Toby.”
“But Dad keeps riding my ass about this ranch thing. I don’t want to raise cattle.”
Her voice softened. “With Tyler gone to Nacogdoches on my parents’ farm”—Ty’d given up his lawyer dream when family duty had called and had taken over their maternal grandparents’ dairy farm upon their death, turning it into a stellar operation—“and with Travis back from Afghanistan and applying to med school, there’s no one else to leave it to but you.”
“I know, Momma, but how can Dad make me care about whathe cares about? Tyler got to go to law school, and he left his career for the farm because he had to go be a martyr. No one made him do it. Trav joined the army, and everyone treats him like some hero. I’m the only one who gets no say-so in this and it ain’t fair. I want to ride the circuit and go semipro, maybe even pro. I’m supposed to give up everything important to me because Dad demands it? Come to school here because his name’s on some plaques in the student union?”
His mother had cupped her hand over his across the table as they looked out the window of a café in College Station near the university, while his coffee had gotten cold.
“Come on, Tobes. Rodeo isn’t your dream, and we both know it. Quit wasting your time on it, and get back in the classroom. Rodeo is how you get under your daddy’s skin. And one of these days, you might not get up to walk away from busting your rear. I’ve seen you in your element, and it’s not when you’re chasing eight seconds. Do you remember when you were little and we went to Dallas to the big natural history museum?”
He’d wondered where the conversation was leading. At the time, he’d rolled his eyes like an immature prick.
She’d laughed the affectionate laugh of a reminiscent mother, doting on her offspring, and squeezed his hand. “When you learned that our lands used to be grasslands, you debated Daddy so much about why it was wrong to graze cattle, he suggested you become a PETA lawyer.”
He’d gotten away with buying four overpriced books from the museum gift shop, too.
“Yeah, and?”His tone had been sarcastic. How he wished he could take back those moments of ungratefulness now because his mother sometimes seemed like the only one cheering him along.
“What I’m saying is the Legacy sits on a treasure trove of natural history. Fossils, unparalleled landforms. And you know we’ve got all that Indian art. I know in your heart you love the land. I’ve watched you go off hiking just to be alone out there. Yes, the Legacy has always profited from cattle. It’s given you a fine life, Toby Brian.”She’d leaned in conspiratorially, and his brow had crinkled. “Daddy says you gotta take on the cattle company. But Daddy also saw in you a scholar. He sent you here because he knew, deep down, you’d thrive getting out of Alpine and learning in an institution like this one. Imagine his position. He’s got three boys and a major operation that he has to leave to one of you. He knew Ty wanted to be a lawyer. He knew, after Trav came home from Afghanistan with a new calling to become a surgeon, he wasn’t going to derail him. He didn’t know what you wanted to be, but he knew you loved this land. He knew, out of all three of you, you were the one who might appreciate it the most. You’re just so danged confrontational it’s like he’s roping a steer every time he tries to talk to you.