Kelli Ireland - Cowboy Proud

Emmaline had already started toward him, and he inched his truck close to the curb before slamming it in Park. He hopped out and jogged around the front to meet her and take her bags, hoisting them into the crew cab’s backseat. The large bags took up the whole bench. Then, steeling himself, he faced her.

In heels, she was only a couple inches shorter than him. Her eyes were the palest green with a dark ring around them. Her nose was short and straight. And her lips... Those lips had been created specifically to go with the rest of her sultry voice and body.

“Since you’ve taken my bags and put them in your truck, I’m going to assume you’re Cade Covington.” She arched a brow, considering him. “That or I’m being abducted in broad daylight and allowing it, which I can’t imagine I would.”

Cade proffered his hand. “Ms. Graystone.” His heart skipped a beat. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Call me Emma. Please.” She took his hand in a firm shake. “We’d have gotten off to a far better start if you’d laid on the cowboy drawl and charm when you answered the phone.”

He shook her hand in return, but when it would have been polite to release her, he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead, he stood there like an idiot, staring at her through dark shades, memorizing her face as if there would be a quiz later.

Her breath stuttered, her hand tightened and then she pulled.

There was no option but to yield to her unspoken demand that he let go. Man, he didn’t want to, though. In fact, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, pull her into the line of his body, to discover the type of perfume she wore—and the brand of lingerie.

It was ridiculous in the extreme. Never had a woman affected him this way, and it left his mind entirely scattered. Opening her door, he handed her into the cab without a word and pulled her seat belt forward, settling the clip in her palm.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she crossed tanned bare legs that ended in those siren’s heels, the dichotomy of elegance and sheer wickedness not lost on him.

No, sir.

This was going to be longest trip to the ranch he’d made from anywhere.

Ever.

* * *

EMMA WASN’T SURE what to make of the man in the driver’s seat. He’d introduced himself, the deep timbre of his voice stealing the common courtesy of her response before it was halfway out. She wanted to listen to him talk. Didn’t matter what he said so long as that voice continued to fill the air around her.

A fine shiver raced over her skin.

That led her straight down the road to considering the way his brief touch had been electrifying, sending little shocks of awareness along her skin. Sure, the contact had been innocent. Her physical response? Not so much. When he’d held on to her, something inexplicable and almost electric had coursed through her. Then she’d tugged, privately engaged in an internal struggle between want and need. She’d desperately wanted him to hold on, to maintain the connection between them; she’d needed him to let go so she could get her bearings.

But the small gesture had left her craving more skin-to-skin contact, and by “more,” her mind was clearly envisioning fewer clothes. Inappropriate images had filled her brain—and that’s when her sanity abandoned her, leaving sparse breadcrumbs should she attempt to find her way back to it. There weren’t enough to follow, though. Not really. Even if she’d wanted to try. For the record? She hadn’t.

In the strangest way, she’d found herself anticipating their road trip. The time in the truck would give her a chance to discover more about both the man and the dude ranch.

Instead of launching into conversation, though, he’d silently put the truck in Drive and pulled away from the curb. That hadn’t set well with her, not as her mind raced over all the things she wanted to figure out about him.

Michael’s point of contact had been Eli Covington, Cade’s brother. Michael had made copious notes about the family’s desires for their new business venture, as well as on Eli’s experience in corporate law and his wife’s role as the ranch’s vet. But he’d included very little information on the two other brothers, save that Cade was the middle brother and Tyson the youngest. It would be up to her to fill in the blanks, not only to satisfy her curiosity but to afford her every opportunity to ensure she delivered a service the Covingtons would be satisfied with and be willing to broadly recommend. This trip provided the perfect starting point.

They left the airport via a two-lane highway. A glance out the window showed flat expanses of desert with occasional arroyos and ever-present, never-ending barbed wire fences that ran parallel to the highway only to be swallowed by the distant horizon. Cows were scattered far and wide. Some fields appeared vacant save for the intermittent pump jacks that pulled oil from Texas’s subterranean depths and sent it on to refineries’ holding tanks. The wind blew hard enough to push the pickup around a bit, sand peppering the windows like invisible bullets. Cade never faltered, was never forced to steady the truck with a second hand. No, he just left his right wrist draped over the top of the wheel and hid behind those dark glasses.

What color are his eyes?

The thought caught Emma off guard, all the more so when she blurted it out.

Cade’s brows winged down and mimicked the corners of his mouth. “My eyes?”

Heat skated across her cheeks. “That’s apparently how I decided to break the silence, yes,” she muttered.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Just stared wordlessly down the long road in front of them until she was sure she wasn’t going to get an answer.

Then he reached up, pushed the brim of his black Stetson up and slowly pulled his sunglasses off, shifting slightly to face her.

Her breath caught.

“They’re just blue.”

Definitely blue, but far, far from “just.” His medium brown hair and the darkening hint of what would become a five-o’clock shadow made his eyes appear the pale color of sunlight caught in arctic ice. A much deeper blue ringed the iris. Combined, the two colors created a startling contrast.

Cade rolled his shoulders before shoving his sunglasses on again. “They’re blue,” he said gruffly.

“And Ballyportry Castle could be called stacked stone. Oversimplifying it doesn’t make it any less impressive,” she bit out, both embarrassed and irritated.

His lips twitched again. “You comparing my eyes to some stone castle?”

“No.” She settled deeper into the captain’s chair. “Stone’s cold and gray, not blue.”

“Then why bring up...what was it? Bally-something?” At her silence, he shot her a quick glance. “Emma?”

The sound of her name on his lips made her stomach roll over like a lazy hound lying under the summer sun. “Ballyportry. And I brought it up because I was just there. It’s in Ireland. The place made an impression. For better or worse, so do you. The difference is that the impression you make is more frustrating than fascinating.” She kicked off her heels and tucked one foot under her. No better time than now to begin filling in those blanks. “How in the world did you ever end up winning your wife over?” she groused.

“I’m not married.” Amusement made the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiled. “So, I make an impression, do I?”

“Girlfriend?” she asked.

“No wife, no girlfriend and no friend with benefits.” His gaze shifted to her then returned to the road where late-afternoon heat was stirring up thunderheads on the horizon. “I’d rather talk about this impression I make.”

“First impression was on the phone. You and the castle are the same there—generally unwelcoming.” His smile slipped, but she pressed on. “On meeting, it’s clear both you and the castle are immovable. Now, traveling through what seems to be an almost alien landscape, it’s clear you each situate yourself in the midst of an irascible environment. And if the castle could express emotion, I’d say you both enjoy the fact that the majority of the visitors to your little corner of the world don’t speak the native language.”