Vicki Thompson - Should've Been A Cowboy & Cowboy Up - Should've Been a Cowboy / Cowboy Up

“Because you have such a great voice.”

He shrugged off the compliment. He couldn’t take credit for that because he’d never worked at trying to sound good. “It fit their criteria, I guess, but consequently I didn’t get into the marketing end quite as much. I was part of the team that put on events for the station, mostly for charity, but this is my first solo effort.”

She gazed up at him. “You’ll be fine. You have a fabulous venue and people are more flexible than you think. If you keep your sense of humor, they’ll keep theirs.”

He understood why she was good at her job. “That’s the best advice I’ve heard all day.” He gestured toward the open bedroom door. “If you want to check out your room, I’ll bring you some sheets and towels from the linen closet.”

“Thanks. Just leave them by the door and I’ll make up my bed later. Right now I need to change clothes if I’m going to be any good to you.”

He could think of several ways she could be good to him, and none of them involved clothes. “Before I look for sheets, I need to see Gabe’s bed. I can’t remember what size it is.” Picking up her suitcase, he carried it into the bedroom.

Oh, yeah. Now he remembered that Gabe’s old room was furnished with an antique four-poster and dresser, which meant the mattress and box springs were a double rather than a queen or king. Alex had Jack’s former room, which Jack had outfitted with a king-size bed set on a massive oak frame. The place was a man cave that was totally Jack. Jack would have taken the bed with him except he’d built it inside the room, and moving it would have been more trouble than building another one in his new house.

If Alex remembered right, the four-poster in Gabe’s room had belonged to Archie and Nelsie Chance, the couple who’d settled on this ranch in the thirties and created the legacy that now belonged to their grandsons—Jack, Nick and Gabe. Like most guys in this century, Gabe thought a double bed was too small for two people, so he’d left the antique here to be used as a guest bed.

“What a gorgeous bed frame,” Tyler said. “It looks old.”

“I think it is. Don’t quote me, but it might have been the marriage bed for Archie and Nelsie Chance.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Tyler walked over and wrapped her hand around a carved post at the foot of the bed. “Couples were willing to sleep closer to each other in those days, weren’t they?”

“I guess so. Now a double bed is considered crowded with two people in it.”

Tyler’s grip on the bedpost tightened. “I suppose it depends on how much they like each other.”

Alex remembered how her fingers had wrapped around his cock. He had to get out of there. He had to leave now, before he crossed the room and tested how crowded the conditions would be if he and Tyler rolled around awhile on that double mattress. Because they’d made do with a hayloft, he doubted that either of them would mind the size of the bed.

He set her suitcase on the hardwood floor with a soft click. “I’ll get your sheets.” Then he left the room and closed the door behind him.

The image of her manicured nails wrapped around the bedpost stayed with him. He wanted her hands on him, tangling in his hair, stroking his skin, caressing his penis. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, and he was dizzy from craving her.

He needed to get over it. They’d set the parameters and he would abide by them. But he might not get much sleep for the next five nights while he lay across the hall from the woman who’d given him the most fantastic night of his life.

There. He’d admitted that making love with Tyler in the hayloft had topped anything he’d experienced with any other woman, including Crystal. The spectacular nature of that experience had been neatly contained in one night of craziness, but the situation wasn’t so neat anymore.

Obviously he was still wildly attracted to her, and the force of that attraction made him a little nervous. Ultimately, he’d be happier if he kept away from her. The more time he spent with her, the more right she’d feel and the more he’d want her to be his forever girl. And she couldn’t be.

Chapter Three

Tyler hung on to the bedpost to keep herself from walking right into Alex’s arms. Her strong response to him scared her a little. No, it scared her a lot. She hadn’t planned on this kind of complication.

Releasing her hold on the bedpost, she walked over to her suitcase, her legs trembling from the adrenaline rush of wanting Alex. Maybe she should leave, catch a flight out of Jackson and return to her little apartment in L.A. Then her longing for Alex Keller couldn’t possibly create a detour on her carefully charted course.

She couldn’t leave, though. Morgan would be crushed, and Morgan was the person Tyler had come here for. When Tyler had walked into baggage claim at the airport and caught sight of Morgan waiting for her, they’d both squealed and jumped up and down like teenagers. Their hug had been awkward because of Morgan’s big belly, but that hug might have been the happiest, and the most tearful one, they’d ever shared.

No, Tyler couldn’t pack up her marbles and go home just because Alex happened to be living here and he tempted her with the kind of bone-deep commitment that might make her forget all about her promotion opportunity. Unzipping her suitcase, she rummaged through it looking for jeans and a T-shirt, both of which she’d bought last week for this trip to the ranch.

She loved her job, loved the challenge of making a ship full of passengers happy while seeing the world she’d always dreamed of as a child. As a bonus, she could afford nice clothes and regular trips to the ship’s beauty salon. She’d been raised to dismiss such things as unimportant, but her parents’ disdain for material wealth had meant their kids never wore anything new and got haircuts at home.

Tyler agreed that character was more important than outward appearance, but she couldn’t see anything wrong with being a worthwhile person who happened to be well dressed and well groomed. In the first place her job demanded it, and in the second place, looking good didn’t mean she was shallow and materialistic.

Once she’d left home—or rather, the wildly painted van that had been a home on wheels for her entire childhood—she’d vowed to find a profession that allowed her to buy pretty clothes and patronize a good salon. And travel well. She adored seeing new places and having new experiences, but she never wanted to camp out again as long as she lived.

The cruise business was a perfect fit for her, with the tiny exception of having no room for a man in her packed schedule. Alex had quickly uncovered the one disadvantage to her chosen lifestyle. That might be another reason the night with him in the hayloft sparkled so brilliantly in her memory. She hadn’t had many such experiences since taking a job with the cruise company.

She’d have to figure out how to fill that lack, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it. She was one world cruise away from nailing the job she’d coveted from the beginning—cruise director. Sure, it would be more responsibility, but she had tons of ideas and the job would give her the authority to act on them.

Tossing her dress on the bed and taking off her sandals, she put on the snug jeans and formfitting yellow T-shirt with the scoop neck. She hadn’t brought anything baggy to wear because baggy wasn’t her style. As a kid she’d been forced to wear clothes that didn’t quite fit, so now she chose outfits that showed off her figure.

Alex might think she did that to attract a man, but that wasn’t really her goal. She bought the outfits to please herself. She’d spent too much time as a child hating the shabby girl she saw every day in the mirror.