Debra Cowan - Whirlwind Cowboy

“No.”

“At least that’s one thing I’m not supposed to remember,” she muttered.

Bram didn’t speak. He focused on the rolling landscape in front of him, the clear sunny day, the lumbering gait of the horse following them. Anything except the feel of Deborah so close to him. So close that he could feel the occasional puff of her breath against his nape.

He clenched his jaw.

Behind him, she slid and slipped around a few times. Not once did she reach for him to steady herself. That shouldn’t have irritated him, but it did.

What did she think? That one touch from her would strip his control, have him shucking her out of her clothes?

Heat surged through him at that tempting thought and he bit his cheek. Hell.

Scout picked his way down the steep bank of a deep gully and Cosgrove’s mare gingerly followed behind. The gelding started up the opposite earth wall, lunging forward to gain ground.

Deborah shrieked, canting off to the side.

This time Bram managed to grab her arm. After pulling her up for the second time, he took her hand and curled it around his waist. “Leave it there.”

Neither spoke as they continued on.

Bram tried to ignore the feel of her soft curves against him. It didn’t help that from the corner of his eye he could see her skirts creep higher on her leg, exposing her drawers to the knee. All that did was stoke the memory of his hand under her skirts.

It was hot. He was hot. Because of her.

Feeling as if he were being choked, Bram ran a finger around the loose neck of his shirt. He wanted her until he ached with it. And each minute he spent with her felt as though his skin were being peeled off.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a third of that, they passed the Ross family cemetery, then reached the mouth of the creek that ran across Circle R land and onto Riley Holt’s pasture.

The now-dirt-filled creek that held painful memories for Bram.

He stiffened. With her arm around him, she had to feel it.

“Have I been here before?”

It wasn’t the warm wash of her breath against his neck that made Bram glance back. It was the wistfulness in her voice.

She was staring hard at the water that had been stirred a sandy-red by the dust storm. Sunlight glittered on the surface, dappled the ground through the leafy branches of an old pecan tree.

“Yes, you’ve been here. Do you remember?”

“No.” Frustration thickened her voice as her gaze met his. “Your reaction made me wonder.”

He didn’t tell her this was where she had informed him that she was leaving. And ripped out his heart.

Yes, she’d sworn she would return to him, but his ma had said the same and she had never come home. When he had finally tracked down Frannie Ross, she hadn’t even recognized him. Just as Deborah didn’t now.

That realization made Bram’s anger flare to life again.

“Did something bad happen here?” she asked tentatively.

Tightening his grip on the reins, he thought about not answering, but what did it matter? “Guess it depends on your point of view. This is where I proposed.”

She was silent for a long moment. So long that he thought maybe she hadn’t heard him. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” The memory still had the power to make him wince.

Bram fought the urge to knee Scout into a run, get away from Deborah as quickly as possible. But the last thing he needed was for her to be plastered to him, holding on for dear life.

Especially after being cooped up with her overnight and feeling her lithe curves against him all during the ride. She was too near, her eyes too soft with a vulnerability that made him want to take care of her.

He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached, and he urged Scout forward.

The packed trail gave way to hilly grassy pasture. Evergreen trees and brush spotted the rolling landscape. Vibrant patches of wildflowers bloomed across the field.

In the distance, he spotted two of his ranch hands rounding up stray cows. After stopping to speak to them and leave Cosgrove’s injured mare, he and Deborah continued on.

When they finally topped the rise near her home, Bram pointed to the log structure at the bottom of the slope. “There’s your house.”

Her hand tightened on his waist. “I don’t recognize it,” she said tremulously.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his hat grazing the top of her head. Her pert nose was slightly sunburned, but it was her eyes that held his attention.

The sharp disappointment in the blue depths razored through him. She appeared lost and he saw hope seep out of her, like water from a leaky pail.

When her gaze met his, tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I really thought I would remember my own house.”

“It’s okay.”

“I— What if they don’t want me?”

Bram stared at her. She had likely been thinking such things during the entire ride. The more distance he had put between them and the cabin, the more heaviness he had sensed from her.

A strange feeling unfurled in his chest. “Of course they’ll want you.”

“Thank you for bringing me … here. And for helping me.” She made as though to slide off.

Bram grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“You said this was my house.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to go down there alone.” He couldn’t just deposit her like a bag of laundry and leave. His voice was gruff. “I’ll explain everything.”

“You will?”

He nodded.

“Thank you,” she said softly, relief plain on her face. “Thank you.”

The small whisper of her breath teased his lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

He was aware of the rapid flutter of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. The black satin of her hair gathered back in a ponytail that slid over her shoulder. Hair he wanted to free and bury his hands in. Mixed in with that awareness was the infernal protectiveness he couldn’t shake.

It frustrated the hell out of him. Pulling his attention from her, he guided Scout into the yard. Bram threw one leg over the gelding’s neck and slid to the ground, then turned to help Deborah dismount.

He lifted her down, his hands closing on her taut waist. Her breasts brushed his chest and her hips pressed to his as he slowly set her on her feet. Bram bit his cheek against the urge to pull her full into him. He couldn’t let himself get tangled up in their past.

For a long moment their eyes held. A rosy flush stained her cheeks.

She looked away, appearing confused and overwhelmed. And frightened, Bram realized. She had worn the same expression when he had come upon her in the cabin.

His chest ached as he asked quietly, “You okay?”

“I think so.”

He lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“Deborah!”

She started and so did Bram. Together, they turned to face the tall woman rushing toward them.

“That’s your mother, Jessamine.”

Three younger women burst out of the house, excitement and relief plain on their faces as they moved in Deborah’s direction.

“Oh, thank you for bringing her home, Bram!” Mrs. Blue said. “I didn’t know you were going after her.”

“I didn’t.” He removed his hat. “I found her at the cabin on the other side of the Circle R.”

“The cabin? Why?” Jessamine frowned, her blue gaze shifting to her oldest daughter. “Your note said you were going to Abilene.”

“There’s an explanation,” Bram said. He wondered if her family would have as much trouble with it as he had at first.

“I should hope so.” The older woman leveled a look on Deborah. “You’ve never lied to me before.”

Deborah’s fingers curled into the loose shirt fabric at Bram’s waist. He glanced at her. If she was holding on to him so tightly, she had to be afraid. He noted the paleness of her skin and the alarm on her face. She didn’t recognize her mother or sisters.