The Cowboy's Wife For One Night

His mouth covered hers, swallowing her cries, the screams the whole county would have heard if they’d found their way past his tongue.

He stroked her, softly now, easing her back down. And when the fireworks stopped and her body twitched with random shocks, he smiled, the devil, and whispered, “Once more, Mia. Because you’re so damn beautiful.”

And it started all over again. But from a different place, somewhere treacherous and slightly scary, and when she looked into his eyes she couldn’t stand it, she had to shut her own.

“Mia,” he breathed, chastising her. “Come on.”

She shook her head, too far gone to stop it, but with just enough wherewithal to know that if she wanted to survive this, she had to keep something of herself.

She gripped his wrist, grinding herself against his fingers, holding him still for her own selfish pleasure, and he laughed, dark and hot in her ear.

“That’s a girl,” he whispered, and she exploded again.

Jack removed his hand, his glistening fingers embarrassing her and turning her on at the same time, and she lay still, waiting for what was next. What depraved thing Jack had planned for her.

But he rolled away, staring up at the ceiling, his body taut as wire, his teeth gritted.

“Jack—” She reached out to touch him. The long, hard length of him in his jeans. But he stood up, looking at her on the bed.

“Do you want to go to Edinburgh?” he asked, and she blinked, not even sure of what he’d said.

“What…?” Her voice croaked and she tried again. “What are you talking about?”

“You want to go to Edinburgh and I want to take you.”

“Now?” she cried. Weren’t they having sex? She didn’t have a whole lot of experience, but it seemed like this conversation was a bit of a distraction.

“Summer would be best,” he said. “You’d love it. The whole country is like your high pasture.”

“Why…” She sat up. Her body wasn’t totally on her side and she swayed a little.

“Think about it,” he said.

And he left.

14

Walter watched the dark brown coffee pour into the mug and prayed for…he didn’t know what, exactly, but a prayer right now seemed in order.

“Thank you, Walter.” Sandra’s voice was low and sweet; she still had that accent. Listening to Sandra and Lucy speak Spanish filled this old dark house with color and life. And brought back a lot of good memories.

She stirred some sugar into the coffee and added cream, and he stood there like a fool, watching it all. Remembering all those years he’d hated himself for noticing his best friend’s wife.

“I’m surprised you have decaf,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

He’d remembered she drank decaf and had Gloria pick some up with the rest of the groceries. He poured himself a cup and sat down on the chair across from her.

“Look at this place,” she sighed. “Hasn’t changed at all.”

“It’s only been five years,” he said. “You think we’d redecorate?”

She laughed, the sound like breeze coming down off the mountains, warm and cool at the same time. “Hasn’t changed since I moved into this kitchen thirty years ago.”

He looked around, trying to see his home through her eyes. “Hasn’t changed practically since I was born.” He could feel her watching him, and he fought the urge to suck in his stomach. Preen like a peacock.

“How are you feeling, Walter?” she asked. “The Parkinson’s disease…”

“Good,” he answered, and he wasn’t lying. Didn’t want to lie, not anymore, not to this beautiful woman in front of him. “The medication keeps me on an even keel. I can’t do a lot of the stuff I used to. Riding a horse is probably beyond me, but I’ve been helping the men clear the old fire road to the high pasture and it’s…it’s good.”

Her smile was wide, lit up her whole face, her round cheeks dimpling. Love lurched in his chest.

“That is very good to hear, Walter,” she said. “A man like you should work.”

A man like me? What did that mean? he wondered, picking apart her words like they were a riddle.

“Tell me about Los Angeles,” he said. “Do you like it?”

She took a deep breath and held it, as if weighing her answer and he took her hesitation to heart. She didn’t like it. He’d never believed she would. Sandra was a woman for open spaces and wild places. The city had to feel like a cage.

“It is very crowded,” she said. “And…even working at the church, I am bored. Lucy works such long hours—”

“The jewelry design business,” Walter said and Sandra’s eyebrows arched.

“I didn’t know you knew,” she said.

“I was oblivious to a lot of things,” he said. “But your girls were not ones to be ignored.”

Sandra liked that. She laughed and laughed, and he smiled, pushing his chair closer to the table, as if he could slice right through the wood to be next to her.