Her Rebel Cowboy: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance Read online

  She relaxed. That was something she knew how to handle: being strong for someone else. She could to do this. Yes, her reaction to him was strong, but she could handle it. She’d been meant to find him, and she knew then that they were meant to help each other. Team healing. Not love. Not lust. Not romance.

  She’d come out here to find herself, not fall in love with a cowboy. So what if he was tempting? So what if her heart felt melty? She’d fallen in love once, and it had nearly destroyed her.

  Not again.

  Not even with him.

  He raised his brows. “Noelle?”

  She took a deep breath. Go with him, but keep a distance? Yes. She could do that. She had to do it. She could do this. “Yes, I’m coming. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 7

  They reached the top of the embankment, and Wyatt didn’t let go of her hand even after they were both on solid ground. He turned to face her as she summited, watching her as she reached him. He straightened up, and she realized he was taller than she’d noticed before. She came up to the middle of his chest, and his shoulders were so wide she felt tiny in comparison.

  Rightness surged through her, that same rightness as when she’d felt the strength of his quads on either side of her hips. She was startled by how good it felt not to have to be the strong one, the one trying to hold everything together. He gave off the aura of strength and power, and it felt incredible…but even as she thought it, guilt flashed through her. Guilt that she was appreciating his strength, as if it was an insult to David.

  She didn’t want to compare them. She didn’t want David to be less in her memories, just because Wyatt was strong. She wanted to simply appreciate this moment, and not let it get tangled up in all the noise in her head.

  “What’s wrong?” Wyatt didn’t move away, his gaze focused on hers.

  “I just–” She stopped. What was she going to say? That she was in love with the fact he was strong and rugged? Because that would sound sane and reasonable, right? Not.

  He cocked an eyebrow, studying her as if she was a great enigma he was getting increasingly interested in figuring out.

  Heat rushed through her, and instinctively, unable to stop herself, she put her hand on his chest over his heart. He didn’t move away, and after a moment, she could feel the steady thump of his heart, strong and solid. Her fingers dug into his chest, as if she could grab onto his life force and hold it in her hand. “You’re just so alive,” she whispered. “I forgot what that was like.” She splayed her fingers, feeling the strength of his muscles where she was used to feeling paper-thin flesh barely stretched over bony ribs. “It’s like nothing could ever stop you. It’s… amazing.” She couldn’t keep the wonder out of her voice, and she couldn’t make herself break contact.

  It just felt so good to be touching a man who was so alive. It made her feel like there was electricity leaping off him into her body, igniting her with strength instead of draining it.

  For a long moment, Wyatt didn’t react, and they both stood there in the pouring rain, the heat from his body searing her cold palm. She could feel the ripple of his muscles beneath her hand, the movement of his chest as he breathed. How many times had she sat with her hand on David’s chest, checking to see if he was only sleeping, or if he was finally gone?

  With Wyatt, it was so different. He exuded raw strength and power, a man who seemed like he would never be bested by frailty or disease. Her hand started to tremble, maybe with cold, maybe with the sheer exhaustion of trying to hold onto everything for so long, and knowing that there was suddenly this great strength in front of her, a man who could do things like catch her when she stumbled, even down a slick, muddy embankment.

  She looked up at him, and she was startled to see him watching her intently. His head was ducked slightly, as if he were using the brim of his hat to shield her from the rain and even the world. His eyes were inscrutable, and his mouth was in a tight line, but she didn’t feel like he was angry. Just intense. Just…God. He was just raw, untamed male, wasn’t he? Desire raced through her, a longing to feel his arms around her, to lose herself in the strength of his body, to let him take her away from the memories she couldn’t escape.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt the heat from his stare. Dear God, he wasn’t going to kiss her, was he? That would be so absurd. She didn’t even know him, and…she suddenly became aware of how hot her palm was. Her gaze went to his chest, to her pale hand spread across his chest, and gradual, horrifying awareness flooded her. She was fondling a complete stranger in the middle of nowhere…but at the same time, he didn’t feel like a stranger. She felt safe with him. Secure. Protected. Like he’d touched a piece of her heart simply by being himself…which made no sense, right?

  What was wrong with her? Embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she jerked her hand back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you like that. I mean, I don’t even know you or–”

  He touched his index finger to her lips, silencing her. He shook his head once. “It’s okay.” Just two simple words were all he said before he moved past her to retrieve his horse. Two simple words muttered in a deep baritone was all he’d offered her, but they rolled through her like a seductive caress that made all the tension and embarrassment disappear.

  She took a deep breath, trying to gather herself even as she was unable to tear her gaze from him as he turned toward his horse, murmuring softly to the animal. She caught the name Lightning as Wyatt ran his hand gently over the velvet nose of his horse. Lightning ducked his head, pressing his face against Wyatt’s chest, and he bowed his head, murmuring softly to the animal.

  Her heart turned over at the moment of intimacy between man and horse, at the trust that so clearly bonded them together. The simple, beautiful connection touched her, and she had to turn her head away to fight off the tears.

  God, she wanted a moment like that. A moment with Wyatt bending his head toward hers, holding her quietly, silently promising that he would always look out for her, offering her the strength he carried with him so effortlessly. Not because she was weak, because she wasn’t, and she knew that. Not because she needed a man, because she knew she didn’t. But because there was nothing as beautiful as that feeling of safety in the arms of someone else who would never, ever walk away if you needed them.

  “Noelle?”

  Wyatt’s deep voice pulled her attention back to him. He was running his palm over Lightning’s nose as he watched her. “Have you ridden before?” he asked, mercifully changing the subject to a neutral one, prying her attention away from her thoughts before she could do something absurd like beg him to pat her nose like he was patting his horse’s.

  Relieved, she nodded. “I rode English as a kid,” she said. “I know how to stay on.” She glanced at the horse, who had turned his shaggy head to look at her. “Never Western, though.”

  “Same concept,” he said. “Want a leg up?”

  Heat flooded her at his suggestion of giving her a boost onto the horse. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to touch him. She glanced desperately at the stirrup, but it was too high. There was no way she would be able to get her foot up there, despite bi-weekly excursions to the yoga studio for a month, two years ago. Who knew that kind of investment wouldn’t pay off years later? “Yes, okay.”

  He grunted his acquiescence and moved beside her. “On three.”

  “On three.” She grasped the saddle and bent her left leg at the knee. His hands closed around her lower leg, just beneath her knee. God, oh, God, it felt good to feel his hands on her. It was even more intense than when she’d touched him, because it had been so long since she’d been touched by someone else, by a man, one she was attracted to, who made her feel like a woman, soft, vulnerable, and desirable. She closed her eyes, fighting the sudden surge of emotions through her.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Ready? To squeeze onto that saddle with him, when the mere touch of his hands on her
leg was so overwhelming? No, she wasn’t ready. She would never be ready. “Ready.” Her voice was shaky, and she hoped that he attributed it to the fact that she was shivering violently from the cold.

  “On three.” He tightened his grip on her leg. “One. Two. Three.” On three, he boosted her up at the same time that she pushed off. He lifted her easily onto Lightning’s back, and she sank down into the deep saddle. The drenched leather sent an icy chill through her jeans almost immediately, but Wyatt swung up behind her before she had time to get cold. His pelvis was up against her butt, and his chaps were cold and wet against the backs of her thighs. As he reached around her to take the reins, she felt like she was being cocooned by his strength, and dammit, it felt too good…the kind of good that she wanted to hold onto forever.

  She hadn’t had a moment she’d wanted to last forever in a very long time, and it felt amazing.

  “Lean back against me,” he said, his voice gruff.

  She stiffened against her urge to do exactly that. “Um, no, I’m all set–”

  “You’re not all set. You’re shivering. You need protection from the rain.”

  “Oh…” She suddenly became aware of the rain hammering at her even more fiercely than before. Her teeth were actually chattering now. Silently, refusing to be stupid, she leaned back against him.

  His arm went around her belly and he pulled her back against him, cutting off all space between them. “Good?” he asked.

  “Yes, great, thanks.” It felt so surreal to be held in his arms, to have him taking care of her. It felt so good, too good, so overwhelming that she wanted to cry. But she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Chapter 8

  Wyatt nudged his horse into a trot, grimacing when the gentle movement of his mount made Noelle rock against him, in a rhythm that was all too tempting. He shifted, trying to pull his hips back, but there was nowhere to go.

  He swore, trying not to think about the fact that his arm was just beneath her breasts. Yeah, his forearm might be only millimeters from contact with them, but it was a chasm he wasn’t going to cross. What the hell was he doing even thinking about them? He’d seen her tears. He’d seen the loss in her eyes when she’d marveled over the fact he was alive. So what if his entire body had gone into overdrive when she’d touched him? That was no excuse.

  She needed someone to rescue her, to help her, not to grope her.

  And hell, he had sworn off women the day he’d found out the truth about his ex-fiancée.

  And yet, despite both facts, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Noelle felt against his chest. He couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of flowers that seemed to cling to her. He couldn’t help but wrap his jacket more snugly around her, and pull her more tightly against him, so that he could use his body and his jacket to ease the shivers wracking her body.

  He had to hold her close, but damn, he didn’t have to notice it. He cleared his throat. “So, um, Noelle, what do you do for work?” The moment he asked the question, he grimaced. Work? He’d asked about work? A woman so appealing that she’d taken his breath away with one look of her eyes was in his arms, and he’d asked her about work?

  But even as he thought it, he felt her relax slightly, as if she, too, was in need of something to take her mind off the intimacy of their position. “I’m a writer. A mystery novelist.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? That’s cool as shit.”

  She laughed softly, relaxing even more against him. “Yes, except I can’t think of an idea for my next book. It’s been almost a year since it was due, but my brain stopped working.”

  He didn’t need to ask why she’d had writer’s block. He could figure it out. “Kind of like how I lost the ability to ride bulls. It’s something you’ve done your whole life, and suddenly, your ability to do it just vanishes.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him, surprise on her face. “You forgot how to ride bulls?”

  Shit. He didn’t want to be thinking about the shitstorm of his professional life right now. Grimacing, he shrugged. “Reentry issues. No biggie.”

  She kept looking at him, and he knew suddenly that she saw so much more than he wanted her to see. So much more than he wanted to see himself. “What happened?” she asked.

  He swore again, “Nothing–” But he cut himself off as he spoke, stopped by the expression on her face. She wanted to know. She was struggling, and she needed to connect, to know she wasn’t the only one. Swearing, he ground his jaw. “I took a bad crash a couple months ago. The bull was…” He thought of Jesse’s visit earlier in the day and swore. “You’d like this, mystery girl. Turns out my bull was drugged, apparently to try to kill me. They suspended me because they thought I’d juiced my ride. Earlier today, they decided that since it was attempted murder, I’m not such a bad guy, and they lifted my suspension. So, I get to ride this weekend, if I can get my damn seat back–”

  He stopped as she twisted all the way around, almost sideways on his horse so she could look at him. “Someone tried to murder you?”

  “Apparently.”

  Interest gleamed in her eyes, a spark of light that made something tighten in his gut. “That’s so cool. Who do you think it was?”

  “Cool?” He stared at her. “You think it’s cool?”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. “Well, I mean, I don’t think it’s cool on a personal level, but I write mysteries. I’ve never met anyone in real life who has been almost murdered. What was it like? Were you scared? Is it creepy? Are you always looking over your shoulder now? What if they try again this weekend?”

  There was so much excitement in her voice that Wyatt couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly, his stress about the bull riding and Jesse’s visit dissipated, chased away by her excitement. “This is my potential murder that you find so entertaining. You realize that, don’t you?” Somehow, saying it to her took away some of the weight that had been crushing him.

  She nodded. “Totally. Do you know who it is? Any ideas?”

  He raised his brows. “My friend Brody thinks it’s my ex-fiancée, but I don’t see her turning to murder.”

  “Oh…I bet that’s weird to have to think about who might want to murder you.” She eyed him. “Do you want help? I am an expert on murder, in that ‘totally imaginary, far-removed-from-reality’ kind of way.”

  A part of him was tempted to say yes, but he quickly dismissed that thought when he considered the fact that it was actual murder they were talking about. “Thanks, but I don’t think getting involved with the potential murderer is exactly what Bunny had in mind when she did the house swap with you. Jesse Knight is an investigator who works for the tour, and he’s working on it. If anyone can figure out who it is, it’s him.”

  Even as he spoke, he saw the excitement in Noelle’s eyes fade, and he felt her energy sag. Before he could even think about it, he added, “but I’m happy to fill you in, in case you think of something that we don’t.”

  When her face lit up again, he knew why he’d said it. The look on her face was the only reward he needed. He had no idea why he felt so compelled to reach out and try to help this woman, but he did. He had learned long ago not to question his instincts. With Octavia, he had ignored his reservations, and he’d paid the price. With Noelle, there were no reservations. Every instinct was honed in on his need to protect her, to help her, and to wipe away the shadows still clinging to her, so that’s what he was doing. At this point, he was too damn bitter and cynical to do anything except follow his gut, and his gut was telling him to take care of Noelle, end of story.

  If letting her brainstorm who might’ve drugged that bull ignited that spirit that she had come here to find, then he was okay with that. He was going to make damn sure she stayed out of danger, but what harm could a little brainstorming cause?

  She grinned at him, and he could almost feel her mind cranking into gear, as if years of dust and rust were being shed. “Tell me why you think your ex-fiancée might have tried to kill you. I mean,
there are bad breakups and all, but murder seems a little extreme.”

  Wyatt glanced past her, checking how far they still had to ride. They were nearing the ranch, but they still had a few minutes. He was going to take them straight to the barn, because taking care of his horse was his number one priority, as it would be with any half-decent cowboy. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he thought back to that moment a year ago, when his life had changed, when he had finally stopped believing in anything good.

  He shifted his position in the saddle, and Noelle nestled more securely against him. Her body was relaxed, and moving in sync with him, and he liked it. It felt right. He sighed, focusing on the feel of her body against his as he began to speak. “I met Octavia a few years ago. She was working for the tour in the public relations department, so she was at all the events. She seemed cool, not obsessed with the bull riders, like a lot of the women are.”

  He heard Noelle chuckle. “You guys are considered hotties out there, huh?”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess.” There’d been a time when that had felt good, to be treated like he mattered. “My dad was a piece of shit, and he got kicked off the tour for cheating. It took a while to get anyone to see me as anyone but the son of a cheater. Octavia was on my side, and she did a piece on me that changed everything for me. She made me look good, and stood by me, saying I wasn’t my old man.”

  He remembered the day that article had come out. It had blown his mind to see those kinds of words written about him, after all the shit he’d lived with his whole life. “My dad thought I was shit, and I spent my life trying to become good enough to impress him. Bull riding was all he knew, so that was how I planned to do it. I was young and stupid then, thinking that my dad’s approval actually mattered, so when Octavia published that article, it paved the way for people on the tour to give me a chance. It felt damn good, really damn good…too good. It made me feel indebted to her, in a way that I should have been too smart to succumb to.”