Rebel Cowboy (15 page)

Mel didn’t say anything to that. She went back to eating, and so did he. He couldn’t control getting back into the show. That was Scott’s domain.

But this ranch, this plan, that was Dan’s, and he wouldn’t let anyone put any doubts in his head.

Even his own.

Things had gotten tense, and despite her early morning arrival, there had been none of the promised sex. Which Mel was
not
disappointed over. Because she was a camel when it came to sex. She didn’t need it. She could last for years on yesterday.
Years.

So what was the whole itchy, achy, wanty feeling going on in her general…nether regions?

Maybe
she
had the mountain crazies.

They had worked, repairing parts of the stables, running to town to get Dan a hose and have lunch. A lunch where Dan had insisted on sitting at the counter and spending all his time chatting with Georgia and making goofy faces at the Lane girl, who’d been in a booth with her grandpa. Cheerful and chatty…with everyone but her.

Not a meaningful look or conversation for her all day. Flirting, yes, but that light, blank kind that she was pretty sure he’d throw at anyone with the right kind of anatomy.

And certainly none of the “breaks” she had been kind of hoping for.

Now it was her usual quitting time, and she didn’t at all know what came next. They’d washed up, were standing next to the llama pen, and…what was she supposed to do?

She wasn’t angry at him, and even with his blankness, she didn’t think he was angry at her. He was lost in his personal stuff, and she had plenty of her own personal stuff to be lost in, but quite honestly, she’d rather be lost in Dan.

But how did she initiate that?

Maybe stop being a wimp.

She frowned. She wasn’t being a wimp. She was being cautious and sensible and—

Wimp, wimp, wimp.

“Um, hey, if you didn’t have anything planned, I could, um, do a cooking lesson for you tonight.” She cringed at how stupid she sounded, like a teenage girl desperate to spend a little time with him.
I’ll do your homework for you.

Which made her think of Tyler and how sweet he’d been and how she’d used that to get what she wanted and—

“No need to rush home?”

She looked over at him, standing next to that llama, both of them staring at her. Blankly. Giving nothing away. Ever since that weird moment at breakfast, where he’d been so…angry? Sad? Some mixture of the two.
Because I’m building something
.

Yes, actually, she should go home and make sure Caleb wasn’t drinking himself to death, and Dad was okay, and check her email for responses from potential nurses, but she didn’t want to do any of those things.

Didn’t want to remember or think. She wanted to go back to the other night when he’d made her forget. Over and over again.

So, she did the unthinkable and lied. “No, I don’t need to rush home.” Caleb had gotten to do whatever he wanted to drown whatever problems he had for twenty-some years. It was long past her turn.

“Let’s skip the cooking lesson, then, and do something else.”

Oh, thank
God
, she wasn’t going to have to say it. His smile wasn’t even blank anymore—it was downright mischievous. One of those electric tingles of anticipation wiggled up her spine.

“Let’s go ice skating.”

“I’m sorry. What?” That wasn’t some weird hockey player code for sex, was it?

“There’s an indoor rink in Bozeman, according to my Internet research. Let me take you ice skating.”

“I…” He actually meant ice skating, and she had no idea what that meant. “I’m not much of a skater. I’m not sure I’ve ever—”

“Never been ice skating?” He slapped a palm to the side of his head. “That needs to be remedied, ASAP. Come on. Let’s go. We can get some McDonald’s on the way.”

“That’s some date.” Then she felt stupid, because that’s probably not what he meant.

“Well, honey, if you play your cards right, you might just get lucky at the end of this date.”

“Dan…” Only she didn’t know what to say, if she should agree or argue. She really…didn’t know, and since she was tired of having to know, she figured she might as well go along.
And
argue, because that was what she was good at. “I told you not to call me honey.”

He wound his arm around her shoulders, walking her toward their vehicles. “But did you ever think to ask why I called you that?”

“There’s a why?”

“Of course,
honey
.” He fished his keys out of his pocket. “And for the record, we’re taking my bike.”

“I can’t believe your wheels haven’t fallen off yet out here. The axel will probably crack right in half just trying to drive out to the main road.”

“Ye of little faith in my manly machine.”

“Is that a euphemism, or is this where you start talking in third person again?”

“Come on, you know you want to ride it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Both literally and euphemistically.”

“It’s supposed to rain tonight. I’m not getting drenched on that thing for literal or euphemistic rides.”

He frowned, but then shrugged. “Okay, we can take your truck, but I get to drive.”

It was her turn to frown. “Why can’t I drive?”

“Because this is a date, and when Dan Sharpe takes a lady on a date, he is firmly in the driver’s seat.”

She wanted to find that irritating, ridiculous. It was her damn truck, but he opened the passenger-side door with a silly flourish, and she just…couldn’t resist him.

“One of the most successful NHL hockey players of the past decade is going to show you how to skate, little lady. I hope you’re prepared.” He made a motion to tip the cap he did not wear, and she rolled her eyes, but he had the effect of making her smile against her will, at the stupidest, goofiest things.

At his gesture, she slid into the seat. He leaned in until she felt the need to pull her head back, press her body to the seat so she wasn’t so…

What? Wasn’t so what? She wanted to have sex with the guy; usually that involved getting close. But when he focused on her with
something
lurking in his eyes, she felt cornered, pressed down, a kind of fluttering hope without understanding what the hope was for.

“I call you honey, Mel Shaw, because you are sweet and smooth when I kiss you, but the whole of you was made by a million hours of hard work and focus.”

It took her a few minutes of staring at him to realize her mouth had dropped open, that she
was
just staring. So, she tried to talk, had to clear her throat. “That’s quite a line.”

“I can’t make you believe me.” He said it so seriously, with almost a hint of sadness behind the words, that it made her
want
to believe him. Believe whatever he said about anything.

But that would make her weak, believing, trusting, giving. Even wanting to believe him was borderline weak. It had to be.

He tilted his mouth to hers, but still kept them a breath apart. “But I hope you will believe me at some point, honey.”

The sharp inhale of breath she took had to have betrayed her weakness, but she couldn’t take it back. Or push him away, or not lean into him.

But he didn’t kiss her. He pulled back and buckled her seat belt across her chest. “Buckle up, Cowgirl—you’re in for a bumpy ride.”

* * *

Dan had not sunk his teeth into a Big Mac in a good ten years. Possibly longer. He wasn’t sure if it was that good, or he was just that hungry.

It didn’t really matter, because tonight he was going to skate. With Mel, which somehow made the prospect even more exciting, if that was possible.

As stupid as eating McDonald’s sitting in the back of Mel’s truck was, he kind of enjoyed it. Mel seemed relaxed, easy, like she was at Georgia’s. Like she hadn’t been at the steak place in Bozeman.

And now they were going to skate. Maybe everyone thought he couldn’t hack it with the ranch stuff. Maybe they were all quietly—or not always so quietly in Mel’s case, waiting for him to fail. It didn’t matter. He was good at something. There was something he didn’t bail on, or hide from, or was just plain bad at. It wasn’t just escape; it was everything.

She would have to see that, and maybe she’d get it.

If she doesn’t?

He shook off that question by drowning it in the grease and fat of his last few french fries. “Ready?”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together, likely trying to get some of the salt off them. “Maybe I can just watch you skate.”

“Scared?” he teased. He grabbed the skates he’d put in the backseat of the truck before they’d left.

When they met at the front of the truck, Mel was staring at his skates. “No, I just…”

“You’re just scared.” He took her hand, and she resisted for a second, but only a second. He grinned.

She narrowed her eyes, mouth pressing into a scowl. Christ, she was sexy, and she didn’t have a clue. He didn’t have a clue, because the heavy work pants and shapeless work shirt did nothing for her, and the braid even less.

But the way she leveled him with one look and carried herself like she could and would fight anything in her path…he could not get over the desire to just worship at the altar of that.

“You’re going to be way better at this than me,” she grumbled.

“Well, I’m a professional for starters, and it’s not like you aren’t better than me at everything else.”

Her hand twitched in his, a hesitation before she squeezed. “In just about the strangest way, you are too hard on yourself,” she grumbled, the words just barely intelligible.

“And in the strangest, grumbly way, you are something of a boost to my ego. Who would have thought?”

She made a grunting sound, but the grip on his hand didn’t loosen, even as they walked into the big shack of a building.

The kid behind the counter immediately got to his feet, and there was a crash from behind him, somewhere Dan couldn’t see. He turned bright red, scurrying out in front.

“Hi, Mr. Sharpe. I mean, hello. W-welcome to Elkmont Ice Rink. We’re really excited about having you skate here.” The kid was practically shaking, and it reminded him of the way people used to come up to his dad, in absolute awe.

People had come up to
him
that way too. Not so much in the past year, but they
had
. Still, the way people had done it to his dad when he was a kid stuck with him more.

“Hey, Kevin, right?”

The kid nodded like a bobblehead doll, so Dan tried to be as smiley and friendly as possible. “Thanks for setting this up for me, man.” He extended a hand, and the teen shook it with openmouthed awe.

Dan didn’t even bother to look at Mel. He could tell by the way she let his hand go and took a few steps away from him she wasn’t comfortable with this.

Well, too bad.

“So, here’s the agreed-upon amount.” Dan handed over the cash for renting the ice for an hour. The kid stared at it dumbfounded.

“And, hey, if you give me and my friend an hour alone on the ice, I can stick around for a bit after and sign anything you or any buddies want.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. No problem. You guys skate, right?”

Again with the bobblehead nodding.

“Mel, what size do you wear?”

“S-size?” She sounded about as out of sorts as the kid.

“Shoe size. For the skates. Can you get her some skates, Kevin?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure Mr. Sharpe. Thanks so much. My dad and I…we’re like, so excited. We’ve never had anyone famous here before.” The kid all but vibrated before turning to Mel. “Um, just follow me, ma’am.”

Mel gave him a strange look, but then she followed the kid to the counter and got herself a pair of skates before they were led to the benches outside the ice.

“Give us till eight, then bring out whoever. Sound good, Kevin?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s awesome, sir.” The kid slowly backed away from them, clutching his phone to his chest.

Dan slid onto a bench and began untying his shoes. When he looked up, Mel was smiling at him. Innocently, which meant the smile was not innocent in the least.

“He called you sir.”

Dan grunted. “So? He called you ma’am.”

“That’s the polite country thing to do. Sir means you’re old. Do you need your glasses to skate?”

“Mel,
honey
, bite me.” He shot her a grin as he shucked his shoes and laced up. “And I mean that in a couple different ways.”

Her cheeks went pink and she looked down at her feet, carefully pulling off her boots. He tied off his skates and pushed himself into a standing position. Damn, that felt good. Been way too long. Way, way too long.

Mel was pushing her feet gingerly into the figure skates Kevin had given her, so Dan knelt at her feet and began to help her lace up.

“I could probably do this myself,” she said. He imagined she was trying to grumble, but her voice came out kind of whispery, and she was looking at him with wide eyes.

So he finished lacing her up, never looking away from her gaze. “Could you?” He tightened the laces, clipped them into the stays, and then tied them off. “Stand up, Ms. ‘I Can Tie My Skates.’”

She looked anything but certain as she slowly lurched to her feet, and then she wobbled, grabbing on to his arm. “I don’t like this.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of fun to see. Something you can’t handle.”

“I can handle it just fine.”

“Then let go of my arm.”

She straightened her shoulders, steadying herself, and let go of his arm, chin in the air. Until he gestured to the door to the ice and said, “After you.”

Then she wrinkled her nose and looked at her feet, but this woman was not ever going to let him think he’d won or had the upper hand, even when he did.

She wobbled and oh so carefully edged her way all the way to the door to the ice, clutching on to it like a life preserver.

“It’d be easier if you let me help.”

Something changed in her posture. He wasn’t sure if it was a slump or a straighten or what. It just all kind of changed, and he wondered what was going on in that head of hers. Some fear of anyone offering help?

“I’ll be all right.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” She’d find a way to be all right. There was a little pain right at the center of his chest, and he wasn’t sure why. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know why.

She hobbled all the way to the opening to the ice, and then looked uncertainly back at him. “You go first.”