Cowboy After Dark Read online

  “To quote you, I wish I believed that.”

  “It’s true.” He rubbed the small of her back and felt tension there.

  “I’m sure it is. But I don’t believe that was your only motivation.”

  She was right. He’d been going for significant moments, memories that would bring them closer together emotionally. And he’d been caught doing it. Now what?

  “Your silence speaks volumes.”

  “Okay, I wanted us to share that experience in case someday we wanted to look back on it...together.”

  “Oh, Liam.” She sighed. “What have you told Grady?”

  “Nothing about Tom or what happened between you two.”

  “I wasn’t asking about that. You promised and you’ll keep your word. What did you say about your feelings for me?”

  She’d backed him into a corner. “Look, before I tell you what I said to Grady, please know this. I’m a big boy. I can handle the situation.”

  “By handling the situation, do you mean convincing me that we should be a couple?”

  Apparently he hesitated a second too long.

  “You do! I knew it!”

  “Is that so bad? We get along great, in bed and out of it. Why not give it a try?”

  “Because I’m not ready for that and might never be. I have to figure out who I am and what I want from life before I let another person in. I have no idea how long that will take, and it’s something I need to do alone. Becoming involved with you or any man would derail the process.”

  He knew he shouldn’t say what he thought about that little speech, so he kept quiet and continued to massage her back. That might have been pointless, because her whole body had gone stiff as a board.

  “Liam, please tell me you know what I’m talking about.”

  Oh, God, she really was going to push it.

  He knew his next words would screw things up, but if he couldn’t be honest with her, they had no future anyway. “Yes, and I think it’s bullshit.”

  “What?” She scrambled away from him.

  “We need light.” He left the bed and stumbled around until he located a lantern on a shelf. He turned it on low before setting it beside the bed.

  She was sitting up with the sheet clasped protectively over her bare breasts. Her elaborate hairdo was coming down, and a couple of the flowers had fallen onto the pillow. “If that’s the way you feel, maybe I should get dressed and go back to the ranch house.”

  His heart sank. “If you want to go back, I’ll drive you, but at least give me a chance to explain.”

  Her gray eyes glittered with anger. “Why should I?”

  “Because I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

  “Please.”

  She blew out a breath. “All right. Go ahead.”

  This was so damned important, and he’d never been a wordsmith. He thought of all the conversations he’d had with Grady about self-knowledge and nurturing that creative spark. “You say you don’t know who you are, but I think you do, deep down.”

  Her chin lifted. “Oh, really? What gave you that great insight?”

  “Several things. Partly your bathrobe.”

  “My bathrobe?”

  “You’ve held on to it since high school. How come?”

  “It’s cozy.”

  “And it also belonged to the girl who wrote a little song to apologize for stealing flowers. I’m going to take a wild guess that you did a lot of writing in that bathrobe.”

  Her eyes flashed in defiance. “Well, I don’t anymore. I’ve moved on.”

  “You’re a writer, Hope. It’s what you were meant to do.”

  “That’s not true!” She leaped out of bed and began putting on her clothes with jerky, uncoordinated movements.

  “But it was so important to you!”

  “Must not have been or I’d have kept doing it, wouldn’t I?”

  “Not if it hurts.”

  She met his gaze and for one brief moment let him see the agony there. “I’m done with writing. That’s all there is to say.”

  “I don’t know about writing, but I know about sports injuries. When I used to get injured I had to rest my arm or my leg, but then I’d gradually start using it again. That hurt, but it was the only way to get back to normal.”

  Her defiant mask slipped back into place. “Nice story. Doesn’t fit. I don’t want to go out on the field again, Coach. I have zero inspiration. The well’s dry.”

  “I don’t believe that. He took one book. You have dozens of books still inside you.”

  “How can you know such a thing? Like you just admitted, you’re not a writer!” Her body vibrated with rage. “That one book was the basis for a series of books. I had it all figured out with a whole cast of characters, and it’s gone. Gone!”

  “So what?” He got up and pulled on his briefs and jeans.

  “So what? Now I know you can’t possibly understand. He took work I’d labored over for years. I can’t just start over!”

  He gazed at her. “Yes, you can. I know you can. He stole that project, but if you give up writing, you’ve allowed him to steal your entire creative life.”

  Quivering, she stared at him in silence. Finally she cleared her throat. “And I thought you were kind. I thought you were compassionate. But you’re not, Liam Magee. You’re just like Tom, who wanted me to fit into a certain preconceived mold. Well, I’m not doing that. Do you hear me? I’m not doing that!”

  Her words cut deeper than he’d ever imagined. “Hope, please. I’m not asking you to be what I want. I’m asking you to be yourself.”

  “To use your word, bullshit!” She raced for the door and jerked it open.

  “Hey, I’ll drive you!”

  “Never mind!”

  “Damn it, you’re barefoot!” And so was he, but he charged out the door after her anyway.

  “Leave me alone, Liam!” She ran through the muddy grass.

  He ran after her, slipping and almost going down. But he caught her and pulled her into his arms.

  She resisted and beat on his chest as tears poured down her cheeks. “Let me go! I hate you!”

  “Hope...” He stared helplessly at her tears, knowing he’d made her cry. All he’d ever wanted was to bring her joy.

  She gazed up at him, her cheeks wet and her hair a tangled mess. “Let me go.”

  He relaxed his grip. Slipping out of his arms, she turned away and started toward the house. But he had one more thing to say, and this might be his last chance. “I love you.”

  She paused.

  For one heart-stopping moment, he thought she might come running back to him.

  Apparently that only happened in the movies. She didn’t turn around, but she did respond. “Tom used to say that, too.” Then she continued walking.

  Yeah, but I mean it. He let her go because she’d told him to. He felt hollow inside and knew he was in for some rough times. But he’d said what was in his heart, every bit of it. What happened next was up to her.

  20

  STUPID BATHROBE. Here Hope was, spending a lazy week in Phil and Damon’s cabin, the perfect place to lounge around in her favorite piece of clothing in the world, and Liam had ruined it for her. She couldn’t put it on without thinking of him.

  But she wasn’t about to get rid of it. Finally she decided that wearing it was the best way to desensitize herself to the association with Liam. Besides, the kittens loved it, especially when she sat on the floor and let them romp around her. She first thought of doing that on the Fourth, when she’d wanted to distract them from the sound of fireworks.

  Fireworks could frighten animals. She wouldn’t have gone to the celebration anyway
because Liam might have been there. Instead she’d closed all the windows to mute the noise and had concentrated on entertaining the kittens.

  That night they’d come up with a routine. The solid black one, MC Hammer, would go crazy over the sash when she twirled it for him. The black tuxedo, Nine-Inch Nails, preferred to hop onto her lap and knead his tiny claws into the soft fleece. When Hammer got tired of batting at the sash, he’d leap on Nails, and they’d wrestle until they rolled onto the floor. Then the whole thing would start over.

  They made her laugh, thank goodness. Crying and swearing upset those little fluff balls more than fireworks, so she only did that on long afternoon walks. That was when she’d rehearse what she’d like to say to Liam if she ever had the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind.

  On her third day of house-sitting, she woke up with a brainstorm. She’d go old school and write him a letter. She didn’t know his snail mail address, but he’d be at the ranch until the end of the week. If she mailed a letter to Thunder Mountain this morning, he’d get it before he left.

  All through breakfast and during her floor time with the kittens, she congratulated herself on coming up with the letter scheme. She imagined him reading it and realizing that he’d had it all wrong. He’d curse himself for indulging in amateur psychoanalysis and messing up what might have been a fun week. Sweet revenge.

  Oh, and she’d make damn sure he understood that he was no longer welcome to stop and chat when he dropped off rafting clients. Mister Know-It-All could stay in the van from now on and keep his opinions to himself. She wouldn’t be there much longer, anyway, but until she found a better position, she wanted him to stay the hell away from that lobby.

  Once the kittens conked out for their morning nap, she found some stationery and stamps. Phil wouldn’t care if she borrowed them, and she’d replace them before she left.

  The living room coffee table was adjustable, and she brought it up to desk height. Pouring herself a cup of coffee reminded her of sharing coffee and Baileys with Rosie. That was likely over.

  The morning after the wedding, she’d packed up before dawn and waited in the kitchen until Rosie had come in to start breakfast. Explaining that she and Liam wouldn’t be seeing each other anymore had been tough.

  Fortunately Liam hadn’t shown up to make it worse. She suspected he’d waited until she’d driven away before making an appearance at the house. He also might have asked Grady to hang out with him in their cabin until she was gone.

  Rosie hadn’t seemed angry about the news and had hugged her goodbye, but she’d looked sad. Her loyalty was to Liam, as it should have been. Hope didn’t like the idea of ending her relationship with everyone at Thunder Mountain, but she understood now that it had been inevitable. Imagining herself as a part of the clan had been a fantasy.

  Within minutes of beginning, she’d filled both sides of the first sheet and had to get more paper. Oh, well. So it would turn out to be a long letter.

  Two hours later, her fingers had begun to cramp, and she had ten pages front and back. A really long letter. But she didn’t want to leave anything out. Belatedly she realized that she could probably download Phil and Damon’s printer specs to her laptop.

  Since she had more she wanted to say, she might as well type the rest of it. Postage on this sucker would be a lot, but it felt great finally to get out all the things she’d been thinking for two days. More than two days, actually. These were thoughts that had been rattling around in her head for months.

  She’d given him a lot of backstory so he would understand exactly how wrongheaded he’d been. Wave a magic wand and poof, she’d be off and running. Nonwriters didn’t get it, so in a way she forgave him. But he’d turned her bathrobe into some kind of symbol, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever forgive that.

  Opening up a document on her laptop felt weird, but in a good way. She hadn’t used her computer for anything besides email and the internet in a year. The blank page sat there waiting to be filled with more pages for Liam to read.

  Sometime later her stomach growled, and she quickly opened a bag of chips. She’d be finished soon and could fix herself a regular meal. Except she couldn’t seem to end the letter. She’d decided to explain the premise of her series so Liam could see how intricate it had been and why she didn’t have the heart to start over.

  Hammer and Nails woke up, and she paused long enough to feed them. She was still wearing her bathrobe, so she plopped down on the floor and went through their familiar routine again. “You guys are the cutest things ever,” she told them. “I don’t know why I don’t have a couple of kittens. Probably because my apartment doesn’t allow pets. I need to fix that.”

  They both stopped playing for a second and stared at her with their huge kitten eyes.

  “I know! My life has been boring as hell, hasn’t it?”

  Nails took that as an invitation to jump into her lap. Hammer followed, tackling him. They wrestled and fell off on the floor, like always. For some reason, Hope found it more hilarious this time. She was still laughing as they scampered away and played chase around the living room.

  Moving might mean paying a penalty for breaking the lease, but she’d do it and rent a place that would allow pets. Maybe she should find a new job first and move somewhere close to work. Yes, better plan. Once she’d finished this letter, she’d go online and look for job openings.

  The kittens settled down, and she returned to the couch to discover she’d finished the chips. Man, it was dinnertime! She wouldn’t get the letter mailed today after all. Opening a bottle of wine Phil had left for her, she poured herself a glass and got out a can of mixed nuts. She’d cook dinner the minute she finished the letter.

  But something about the description of her series caught her attention. A character she hadn’t done much with initially seemed full of possibilities now. Why hadn’t she seen that before? He had such an interesting backstory that he could be a main character. She could change his name and alter his appearance a little so he’d be different from the character Tom had stolen.

  For the heck of it, she opened a new document and typed a revised description of him. Then she wondered what he’d be doing in the first scene. What if it was a battle scene and he was fighting next to his best friend, a spunky woman? What if she got wounded, and...

  Hours later, when both kittens crawled up the side of the couch and into her lap, she glanced at them in surprise. Oh, right. Hammer and Nails, her charges for the week. Slowly she returned to reality—Phil and Damon’s house, an empty bottle of wine, an empty can of mixed nuts, and fifteen pages of a story?

  As the kittens scampered over and around her, she stared at the evidence on her laptop. Against all odds and in spite of all her loud protestations to Liam, she was writing.

  * * *

  LIAM FIGURED THAT CADE, Lexi, Rosie and Herb had organized the poker game to take his mind off Hope. He appreciated the effort, but it wasn’t working too well. He kept losing track of the cards and screwing up his bet.

  They’d spent the past three days getting ready for the next session of Thunder Mountain Academy, which would begin with students arriving the next day. He’d thrown himself into the preparations with a vengeance. He’d worked so hard that Rosie had taken him aside and given him the “many more fish in the sea” talk.

  Funny, considering only days ago she’d thought he and Hope were soul mates. He’d listened, nodded and assured Rosie that he would continue to search for the love of his life.

  But he’d found her. She just didn’t know it. Maybe she never would have that realization, and he’d have to live with the consequences. But he was counting on a few days of solitude to give her clarity. Solo treks through the wilderness always helped him see things differently.

  He was holding three aces when someone knocked on the front door. A premonition made him throw in his hand.
“I’ll get it.”

  Heart pounding, he walked quickly through the living room, and there was Hope standing outside the screen door, clutching a handful of papers. He could barely breathe as he reached for the door. “Want to come in?” His voice sounded pretty ragged.

  “No. Come out, please.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Once on the porch, though, he wasn’t sure whether to touch her or not. He wanted to grab her, but that could be a mistake.

  She was breathing as fast as he was. She looked as if she’d dressed in a hurry in a T-shirt and jeans, and although her hair was combed, she wore no makeup. She shoved the pages at him. “Here.”

  He took them. “What is it?”

  “The...” She swallowed. “The first chapter.”

  He stared at her in bewilderment. “Of what?”

  “My new book.”

  “Your new...you wrote this?”

  She nodded. “This afternoon. Tonight. I started out writing you a letter and then it just happened.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Liam, you were right. I’m a writer.”

  With a shout of joy, he swept her up in his arms and swung her around, although he kept a tight hold on those precious pages. The screen banged, and everyone came running out to see what was going on. When he saw them standing there, he figured they’d been in the living room, eavesdropping, but he waved the papers anyway and made the announcement. “A book! She’s started a book!”

  They surrounded Hope, gave her hugs and showered her with congratulations. She looked as if she’d won the lottery. He stepped back and watched, his heart full of love for her. He’d wished for a breakthrough, and here it was.

  Then she turned toward him, took the pages back and handed them to Rosie. “Could you please move these inside? And don’t bother reading them. It’s a rough draft. I printed them out as physical evidence for Liam, but it’s a first chapter. First chapters always change.”

  “But can I read it?” Rosie held the pages as if they were breakable.