Vicki Thompson - Cowboy After Dark

“Seriously, I’ll be okay.”

“I was planning to surprise you with our destination, but maybe I should tell you now in case you don’t like the idea.”

She’d seen the blanket rolled up and strapped behind his saddle. Sharing a blanket with him could be exciting or terrifying, depending on where he chose to lay it out. “I hope it’s not a cave.”

“No, it’s a meadow, a fairly large one. Along the road, the trees mostly block the sky, but in the meadow you’ll be able to see the stars really well.”

“That sounds lovely.”

The concern cleared from his expression. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I should have realized that all along. You probably think I’m a real scaredy-cat.”

“Not at all. Today you faced down my truck. Tonight when you got nervous, you didn’t fall apart and beg me to take you back. You started collecting facts about the potential for bodily harm. I don’t blame you for wanting to protect yourself. I’d rather have that than deal with someone who has no sense of self-preservation.”

“Believe me, I have a well-developed sense of self-preservation.” Now.

“All righty. Let me continue on past you and get Navarre turned around. Then we’ll go check out that meadow.”

“Good. I’d like that.”

He smiled. “Thanks for sticking this out. I hope it’s worth it.”

His smile created a different kind of tension, one that was far more pleasant than her fear had been. “I’m sure it will be.”

Touching his fingers to the brim of his hat, he rode on until he could turn Navarre around. Her libido was fully functioning by the time he moved into the lead and slowed the pace. Unfortunately she lost her view of his cute butt to the shadows of the tall pines lining the road.

He turned to check on her. “You okay back there?”

“I’m doing great.” To think she’d considered going back. Even if he’d concocted some reason for them to take a drive, that trip couldn’t possibly have been as exciting as this. “By the way, I love that Rosie and Herb named their horses Isabeau and Navarre. I was a big fan of Ladyhawke.”

“So were all the guys at Thunder Mountain.”

She laughed. “Really? A chick flick?”

“Don’t let them hear you call it that. Cowboys believe they’re descended from medieval knights, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Think about it. We may not wear armor, but we sure do ride horses. We also believe we can rescue the fair maiden from the dragon who has her locked in a tower.”

He couldn’t know how appealing she found that image. “Have you ever been called upon for a rescue mission?”

“Can’t say that I have. But I could rescue if necessary. All of us feel that way. We used to talk about it around the campfire at night. Sure, we were young and naive, but we meant every word. Herb and Rosie encouraged us to think in those terms. They said real cowboys stand up for what’s right and protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

“That’s very heroic.” She was doing her best not to be dazzled, but it wasn’t easy. Sure, they were only words, but it was the way he said them that caught her attention. They were more than words to him.

“Nah, we’re not heroes. Just cowboys.”

“If you say so.” Despite living in Wyoming all her life, she hadn’t spent much time around cowboys.

“So what other movies do you like?” he asked.

“Love stories and action-adventure, mostly. Sometimes you can get a combination of the two, which is my favorite if they’re well-done. How about you?”

“I like any movie where good triumphs over evil. Spare me from the weep-fests where everybody dies at the end.”

“I know! I hate that!”

“What kind of stories did you used to write?”

She felt as if he’d dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. Phil had brought up the topic at dinner, and Hope had dismissed it as a dead issue not worthy of conversation. Everyone had seemed willing to let it drop.

But not Liam, apparently. Answer him, and fast, so you can ditch this discussion. “Love stories with some action-adventure thrown in. Amateur stuff. I never had anything published.”

“Except in the school paper. You must have been happy about that.”

“I was.” Overjoyed. Proud as a peacock. The comments from her teachers and her friends had convinced her she would eventually be a bestselling author, maybe even make a living with her writing. “But that was a long time ago. I’ve outgrown all that.”

“Hmm.”

“What about you? Did you letter in every sport the school offered? I’ll bet you did.”

“Sports were a great outlet for me. Can’t say my grades were terrific, though. Fortunately I had a few friends who were bookworms. They helped me pass.”

“Girls?”

He laughed. “Yeah, mostly. They took pity on me.”

“Oh, no doubt. I’m sure they felt extremely sorry for the captain of the football team who almost single-handedly took the school to the state championship. That’s why they spent hours out at the ranch helping you with your homework.”

“You must have been quizzing Grady about my checkered past.”

“No, I just made that up.”

“Really?” He turned around to stare at her. “You haven’t been talking to Grady or Rosie or anybody about me?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Wow. You weren’t kidding about your imagination. Even more amazing, you nailed it, except I didn’t single-handedly take us to the championship. It was a team effort all the way. We had some awesome players that year.”

She smiled at that. Heroic and modest, too.

He faced forward again. “So what do you do with that supercharged imagination now that you’re not dreaming up love stories with some action-adventure thrown in?”

Heroic, modest and persistent. Damn. “I, um...do crafts.”

“Oh? Like what?”

She should have guessed he would ask. Quickly she reviewed the various half-finished projects tucked in her closet—knitting, embroidery, woodcarving and candle making. She’d lost interest in all of them, so she couldn’t actually claim to be doing those crafts. “This and that.”

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