Taming Rafe (14 page)

What had he been thinking?

He’d do better next time. Much better.

“I think I should go.” Kitty ran down the stairs.

“Kitty, wait! I’m . . . sorry.”

She was already gone, evident by the squeal of the front door. Clearly, there wouldn’t be a next time.

The door banged shut, and he jerked, bringing himself firmly back to reality.

So much for happily ever after.

CHAPTER 9

K
AT MADE IT
as far as the Jeep before she stopped to let her heart catch up. What had she done? She felt sick, traitorous, and horrified, because for a moment there, she nearly put her arms around Rafe and kissed him back.

Oh, did she want to kiss him back. To free herself in the embrace she’d been wondering about for days. To feel that smile on her lips, those arms around her. To be held in a way she imagined Rafe might hold a woman—like he meant it. Most of all, she’d never had the world stop, never felt herself tingle from head to toe when she kissed Bradley.

Bradley’s kisses were tame. Controlled. And while Rafe’s kiss had been even more so, the feelings it evoked in her had been anything but tame. Apparently she had more of her mother in her than she realized.

Guys like Rafe equaled trouble. Aside from his propensity to crash into things, like buildings, the ground, and bulls’ hooves, he lived and breathed danger. Rafe belonged in the guts-and-glory
world of bull riding. After spending the past few days with him, she didn’t buy his I’m-not-going-back line for a minute. Everything in that scenario screamed
broken heart
! No, thank you.

The only kind of bulls in her world were a good day on Wall Street. Kat had a nice, calm, safe life. And a
sort of
fiancé!

But she saw the way Rafe looked at her. Especially when he thought she wouldn’t notice. It warmed her, clear down to her toes. No one, not even Bradley, had ever looked at her like that, and it made her feel free. Cute. Brave. Special. Desirable.

The fact that such a look came from Rafe Noble, of the smoldering good looks, dangerous smile, muscled arms, and sweet brown eyes, made her truly feel like Kitty Russell, cowgirl.

Yes, she needed to leave—not just the Silver Buckle but Montana—and hightail it back to reality in NYC.

“Kitty! Don’t leave.”

See, this is what hesitation cost her. She shouldn’t have stopped by her Jeep to assess the damage to her heart but instead jumped in and floored it. Because the minute she took one look at Rafe as he half limped, half hopped after her, she knew she’d be sticking around. She wasn’t exactly sure why.

“Kitty!” He touched her arm and turned her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I just . . . you . . . you’re so pretty and you’re here, and you . . . you’re Bobby Russell’s kid!”

“You kissed me because you like my father?”

He opened his mouth, then frowned and shook his head. “I, uh . . . no . . . I mean . . .” He sighed. “Listen, let’s start over. You surprised me; that’s all. I’m sorry. I saw your smile and the way you looked at those posters, and I wanted to—”

“Impress me. I know.” Kat smiled at him and he smiled back.

His eyes found hers, and she saw a tinge of embarrassment flood over him.

Imagine that. She’d discovered a guy who just wanted the girl to like him.

“I don’t suppose that kiss impressed you at all?” Rafe looked at his boots, then at her.

“Oh, honestly, are you in junior high?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, okay, it was nice.
Sort of
impressive.”

He rolled his eyes. “What does a guy have to do to impress you, Kitty?”

Stop being the man you think I want and be the man inside.
Only, wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing? She lifted a shoulder. “I’ll know it when I see it. But that kiss is not happening again.”

He held up the Boy Scout sign. “I promise to behave myself.”

“Oh, sure. This from a man who rides bulls for a living and drives his truck through my favorite hotel.”

His smile dissipated. “You ever going to let me live that down?”

Kat gave a small, slow nod. “I am. Right after we raise half a million dollars.”

She meant it as a joke, but sadness filled his eyes. He reached out as if to take her hand, then dropped his arm to his side. “I’m going to help you raise that money. Even though I’ve made a few mistakes in my life, I’m not that guy anymore. Not really. So your answer is yes.”

Yes?
Yes
? “Oh, thank you! You won’t be sorry!” Everything inside her wanted to throw her arms around him, but instead she did a sort of happy dance, because that seemed a million times safer.

Rafe was dead-on. He wasn’t that man who’d stumbled out of his
totaled pickup at all. This Rafe Noble—the sheepish, adorable man before her—was much, much more dangerous. An arrogant cowboy she could dismiss. A man who let her see his insecurities, his needs . . . well, that might be more than she could say no to.

How did his life get so complicated? A week ago John was just a simple rancher, with a secret life as a Western romance writer, holding on to the unrequited love of the local diner owner, trying to sell the nearly bankrupt ranch his father had left him—okay, so maybe his life had always been a little complicated. But this morning’s news that the production team had moved their arrival date up to tomorrow, along with last week’s arrival of Katherine Breckenridge, daughter of Bobby Russell and ghost from Lolly’s past, made him feel as if his life might be imploding.

How was he supposed to keep Katherine from discovering the truth that Lolly so desperately—he could read it all over her face—wanted to keep hidden? More than that, how would his sudden rise to fame change Lolly’s life?

Probably the best thing for Lolly would be for him to exit her life—and fast.

But John was a sorry man with an addiction to a beautiful blonde diner owner, so he headed for Lolly’s at his regular time, sat in his regular stool, and ordered a Reuben. No fries on the side.

Lolly plunked down his order and a Coke and snarled, “I’m tired and it’s all your fault.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that as she took Egger’s empty plate and waved to the two hands from the Silver Buckle. She did
look tired. Bags shadowed her eyes, but she could still make his heart stand still.

He needed her in a good mood for the bomb he planned to drop tonight. Namely, that his Realtor had found an interested buyer for his ranch. If he took the offer, in less than a month he’d close on the property and move. To Malibu. He already had a Realtor on the hunt for a condo—he liked the sound of that word—or a small beach house.

Maybe he’d even buy a yacht.

By this time tomorrow, his secret would be out. The production crew would be arriving in the morning. Just in time for the Fourth of July parade and rodeo this weekend.

Talk about being exposed in front of the entire town. A Western romance writer . . . perhaps he could ride a bull or something right before they made that announcement.

If he didn’t drop the news on Lolly first, it could only add fireworks to the already volatile event.

“Great sandwich, Lol,” he said.

“Cody made it,” she snapped, looking up from where she cleaned tables. “Why didn’t you just take that book home with you?” She moved to the next booth, then turned and pointed to her temple. “He’s in my head!”

John put down his sandwich. “Who’s in your head?”

Lolly came over and threw the dishrag down on the counter next to him. “Jonas, that’s who. He won’t leave me alone.”

John barely stifled a smile. “Yeah? Uh, who is Jonas?”

She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and flopped down on a stool. “A dumb book character. I started reading Libby’s book a
couple of nights ago, and now I can’t get the story out of my head. I’ve stayed up really late every night reading.”

“You have?” He fought another grin.

“Yeah, ’cause I’m sucked into the story.”

“So it’s good.”

She sighed. “Very good. No wonder everyone’s reading it. B. J. King is a great author. Now I’ll probably be required to get all his—or her—books.”

“I think it’s a him.” John hid a smile. Most definitely a him.

“Well, I don’t know how a guy did it, but I felt as if he crawled inside my head or maybe my heart and probed around. And Mary and I have nothing in common.”

“Who’s Mary?”

“The main character. Except we do sort of think alike. And Matthias—oh, what a jerk. I can think of a few things I’d like to do to him.”

John raised an eyebrow, hoping he could pull off casual and not stupid.

“I was so glad Jonas killed him.”

“Jonas killed someone?”

She closed her eyes tight. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

John let himself smile. “Yeah. But that’s okay. I’ve thought that for a long time.”

She opened her eyes and gave him a mock glare. “It’s just a good book. And it’s getting better. Mary talked Jonas into leaving, and he went to work on a ranch in South Dakota, waiting for her to write to him and tell him that she’s settled things with the sheriff. In the meantime, Mary tells the sheriff what happened, saying that Matthias slipped, and now she’s running the ranch, which is start
ing to turn a profit since Mary let all the tenants run the land with the smallest cut for herself. She’s a pretty smart businesswoman.”

“Hmm,” John said. “Reminds me of someone.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “The thing is, Mary won’t send for Jonas. And since he’s afraid of pushing her before she’s ready, he won’t return without her word. But now he’s going to war!”

“Calm down, Lolly. I’m sure there’ll be a happy ending.”

She threw the dishrag at him. “How do you know? He could die—and Mary will be heartbroken.”

She would? For a second, John couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He swallowed, wishing with everything inside him that she wasn’t talking about the book but . . . herself. Finally he found his voice. “What do you think will happen?”

Her hair had started to whisk out of her ponytail, and she tucked it behind her ear. “I . . . don’t know. Sometimes life doesn’t turn out happily. I guess I need to be prepared for that.”

Oh no you don’t, Lolly.
He folded his hands on his lap and cleared his throat, not sure exactly how to respond. He knew she blamed herself for the curve ball life had thrown her. But she hadn’t the slightest inkling that he knew her secrets . . . so how was he supposed to speak the truth he longed to say? Words! He was a master of them, yet there they were, piling up in his throat, bottlenecked.

She deserved to be happy, but she didn’t believe it. Just like Mary didn’t.

“So, how is any of this my fault?” he choked out.

Lolly took a deep breath, then looked away. “Jonas reminds me . . . of . . .”

John’s world stopped as he watched her, praying, holding his breath, wanting to reach his hand out to her.
Yes, Lolly?

She put her hand over her eyes. “Nothing. I’m being silly. It’s just a story; that’s all. I’m tired and probably reading too much into it. It feels like I know her—the main character—even though it’s set in the Depression, and I feel all the things she feels. Hope the things she hopes.”

John looked at Lolly, and deep inside he ached to tell her how he’d written the book, how he’d wanted to be Jonas. Her hopes could become reality. In fact, he felt the words breaking free. . . . “Lolly, I have to tell you—”

The door jangled as it opened, and Lolly turned. “We’re closed.”

“Oh, sorry,” said a tall, wide-shouldered man, perhaps in his early thirties, with blond hair that hung long enough to scrape his shirt collar and a layer of dark, three-day whisker growth. He looked like a lost trucker, but he wore sunglasses despite the late hour, and something about him struck a chord of familiarity inside John.

He realized why at the same moment Lolly got to her feet, gaping. The same moment the man removed his glasses and gave the woman John loved a slow, movie-star smile.

“Good evening, ma’am,” said Lincoln Cash.

And with that drawl, John knew that any words from him were already too late.