Where Have All the Cowboys Gone? (5 page)

Lauren bit her lip and attempted a lie. ‘I thought I might buy a pair here if I needed them. You do have shops don’t you?’

Grayson snorted. ‘Well, we have Mrs Maxwell’s General Store and Emporium. She pretty much sells everything. We can go down tomorrow and take a look.’

‘Why do I need jeans? It’s not cold or anything.’

Grayson strolled across to one of the walk-in closets and extracted a clean checked shirt. ‘This is a horse ranch, honey. It’s covered in horse shit. If you’re going to help with the evening chores, you’ll need some protection.’

Lauren crossed her arms across her chest. ‘I know that! I’m not stupid. I just didn’t think you’d expect me to . . .’

‘Get your hands dirty?’ Grayson shook his head. ‘My ranch, my rules, Lauren. Either help me out or go home.’

Lauren grabbed her bag. ‘Great, how long will it take me to get to the airport?’

He turned towards her, his shirt in his hand and considered her. ‘Walking? Probably a couple of days, cos there’s no way I’m going to take you. You promised me a weekend.’

Lauren scowled as he draped the shirt over a chair and sluiced water from the sink over his face and muscular body. She remembered her first sight of him half-naked in Vegas and the mind-blowing sex that followed. She dropped her bag to the floor. Did she really want to leave? Her bag didn’t contain much more than soft silky underwear, a couple of blouses, a Chanel skirt suit and an all-purpose shift dress.

Grayson turned back to her and she threw him a towel. ‘What do you think I should wear then?’ she asked stiffly.

His lazy, satisfied grin warned her he’d anticipated her lack of suitable clothing. ‘I have just the thing.’

Lauren waited suspiciously as he disappeared into the second closet and came out with a skirt and blouse draped over a hanger. Her mouth fell open. The short skirt was denim and had a row of metal buttons up the front. The top was white cotton with a band of embroidery around the wide yoke neck.

‘I’m not wearing that! Who do you think I am? Daisy Duke?’

Grayson winked suggestively. ‘If the bra cup fits . . .’ He continued to look hopeful as he waggled the hanger in front of her. ‘I got you cowboy boots as well.’

After glaring at his innocent face, Lauren snatched the hanger out of his hand. ‘All right, I’ll play along. I’ll be Western Barbie to your cowboy Ken. Although how this miniscule outfit is supposed to protect me . . .’

His laughter followed her into the shower. ‘Ken’s got nothing down his pants and you sure as hell know I do.’

Lauren shouted back over the roar of the shower. ‘And I don’t need silicon implants like Barbie!’

When she came out of the shower, Grayson had disappeared. Picking up the hanger, she studied the intricate blue embroidery on the blouse. Grayson’s arrogant assumption that she would dress up for him should have worried her more than it did. Smiling, she smoothed the soft cotton. She loved dressing up. It was her passion. Somehow, he’d known she would enjoy it as much as he did and, despite everything, she trusted him.

She dressed quickly and was unable to resist taking a peek at herself in the mirror. The idea of fulfilling Grayson’s fantasies as he fulfilled hers was arousing. The skirt finished way above her knees and the blouse was so low cut it revealed the tops of her breasts and the long line of her neck. It wasn’t dissimilar to a 1950s cowgirl outfit she already owned. She ran her fingers over her tight nipples and felt sexy and sassy and alive.

In a moment of daring, she left off her underwear. Maybe he’d choke on his cowboy hat.

Grayson stood in the kitchen, a mug in his hand. He didn’t say anything about her appearance although he gave her a thorough inspection. The alluring aroma of percolating coffee drifted across to Lauren and she breathed in deeply. Although she preferred tea, the scent of coffee always made her wish she could drink it without ending up with a headache.

On the stove top a kettle came to the boil with a piercing gusty whistle. Grayson retrieved another cup from the cupboard over his head. ‘There are tea bags and tea leaves in the pantry. Help yourself.’

Lauren took an English breakfast tea bag and Grayson added boiling water to her cup. They sipped in companionable silence until Lauren became aware of a growing crescendo of noise outside.

‘I thought you said we were alone here?’

Grayson finished up his coffee and gave her a slow smile. ‘You’re never alone on a ranch, Lauren. That caterwauling is because the animals know I’m late feeding them.’ He put down his cup. ‘Are you coming?’

He led Lauren back through to the mud room where a brand new pair of black and white cowboy boots awaited her. Outside, a slight breeze lifted her hair as she stepped into the gathering gloom. Grayson handed her an empty bucket and headed towards the large red-painted barn.

The barn obviously predated the house. Sunlight had faded the scarlet-painted walls to a softer blush and flaked and crackled the surface like old skin. It reminded Lauren of the toy version she’d love to play with as a little girl. She wrinkled her nose as the smell and the noise grew stronger.

‘Chickens first.’

Grayson disappeared inside the barn and Lauren followed. Her eyes watered at the strange combination of earthy animal odours and sweet-smelling hay. The last dappled rays of the sun threaded through the old roof illuminating the spiralling dust motes. Huge plastic barrels lined the walls of the sectioned-off part of the main barn. After relieving Lauren of her bucket, Grayson opened one of the barrels and began dumping shovel loads of brown pellets into the two buckets.

He pointed at a rusty water faucet. ‘Add a couple of pints of water to each bucket and give it a stir would you? I’ll start on the horses.’

Gingerly, Lauren picked up a battered plastic jug from the workbench and approached the faucet. She struggled to turn the handle and then shrieked as a torrent of water missed the jug and soaked her boots. Surreptitiously, she checked her perfectly manicured nails for damage. To her relief, not only were her nails unharmed but Grayson didn’t appear to notice; his attention was focused on his work.

After a good deal of quiet swearing and more strength than she knew she possessed, Lauren managed to accomplish her task. She tried to pick up the bucket and hastily put it down again, surprised by the weight. Grayson came up behind her, picked up the two buckets and turned back out of the barn. A fenced-off area on the south side of the barn housed a chicken run and nesting boxes.

As Grayson and Lauren approached, the noise in the pens reached a crescendo as if they were movie stars arriving on the red carpet of an award show.

‘I’ll spread the mash, Lauren, if you’ll go and look for the eggs.’

Lauren nodded, not liking the avaricious gleam in the chickens’ eyes or the sharpness of their prominent red beaks and sharp claws. Grayson handed her a tattered pair of leather gloves and a basket lined with soft foam. She climbed into the back of the nesting shed and felt her way along the narrow ledges, snatching her hand back every time she imagined she encountered an irate chicken.

To her secret delight, she managed to collect two dozen warm eggs. The dim light and musty smell of the chicken house reminded her of her grandparents’ feather bed. Choking back a sneeze, she backed out, the basket held protectively to her chest.

A feeding frenzy still went on out front. Grayson stood waiting for her, the empty buckets at his side. Lauren held up the basket.

‘Two dozen, Grayson. What should I do with them now?’

He smiled as if enjoying her sense of accomplishment. ‘Bring them back to the feed store and we’ll finish up with the horses.’

Lauren followed him back to the barn, detouring around any suspicious matter, which slowed her progress. By the time she reached Grayson, he’d already begun to refill the two buckets from another barrel.

‘Put the eggs on the shelf over there. You’ll see each tray is dated. Chuck out any eggs that are cracked and put the rest in today’s box. Most of them are used on the ranch. I take any surplus into town and sell them to Mrs Maxwell. There’s a dog bowl on the floor for the damaged ones. The barn cat will eat any left out.’

Lauren crossed to the shelf and carefully inspected each egg before putting them in the correct tray. She glanced down at the dog bowl. ‘Don’t you have a dog?’

He turned then, regret colouring his blue eyes. ‘Not any more. I had to have my dog Petty put to sleep last month.’

Lauren resisted the temptation to put her arms around him. She didn’t want him to be a good man who loved dogs. She wanted him to be a shallow worthless loser like most of the men she’d dated. He would be so much easier to leave. The egg she held in her hand cracked and she dropped it in the bowl.

‘What’s next?’ she asked brightly.

‘Horses.’ Grayson seemed to anticipate her next question. ‘Not all of them. The ranch hands take care of the stud animals and the horses in training. These three are more like pets.’

Lauren closed her eyes. God, he kept pet horses as well. What would he come up with next? A house full of orphans he financially supported? To cover her deep confusion, she tried to pick up one of the buckets. It was way too heavy for her. She bent lower to try again.

Grayson’s hand clamped onto her naked butt. He cleared his throat. ‘You’ve got no underwear on.’

She pressed against his fingers. ‘You noticed. I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention.’

He chuckled as he turned her to face him. ‘I’m paying attention all right.’ He picked her up, moulding her against him and kissed her thoroughly. She moaned as he allowed her to slide down his aroused body. ‘We’ll finish this later. We’ve got all night.’

He hefted both of the buckets, his biceps bulging, and nodded to Lauren. ‘After we’ve fed the horses we’ll eat and then –’

Lauren couldn’t resist kissing him, cutting off his words. ‘And then, we’ll have sex.’

He didn’t answer, his long stride eating up the ground, taking him away from her. Biting her lip, Lauren watched his retreat. She shivered, aware of the cold wind sweeping down the shadowed valley. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. Not only did she desire him, she was beginning to like him.

The thought of what her father would do if she tried to introduce Grayson into her world made her pause. She wouldn’t expose Grayson to such venom in a million years. He deserved better. With that thought firmly in mind, she followed Grayson to another smaller building tucked behind the barn.

Her booted feet dragged on the muddy ground. Sexual experience was all she could allow herself to gain from this impulsive relationship. Marriage wasn’t an option she wanted to consider. However, she was beginning to realise that Grayson wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Grayson didn’t know it yet, but he should be grateful she didn’t expect anything from him. She never wanted to feel that she owed anyone any favours. Her father had taught her the danger of that. She had fought too hard for her independence to give it up without a struggle. Sex with Grayson was easy. Making love or making a commitment was far too dangerous.

Grayson stood by a gate to an enclosed pasture, which led out from a five-stall horse barn. He patted and stroked the huge animals surrounding him, allowing them to nuzzle his sleeves, chew on his shirt collar and slobber green slime down his back.

Lauren frowned at the pristine field and distant hills. ‘Don’t you get bored living here?’

Grayson turned to her, pushing away the largest horse who was attempting to stick its tongue in his ear.

‘Why should I? It’s a beautiful place. I like being on my own land and breathing clean air.’

‘But what do you do for fun?’ Lauren thought of her hectic lifestyle. The friends she met in the city for lunch, the new bars and clubs they tried out in the evenings.

Grayson chuckled. ‘I go to the city, what do you think?’ He ducked to avoid the horse licking his face. ‘I’ve lived and worked in cities before, Lauren. I don’t choose to do it any more.’

Lauren studied his contented expression. Was it possible to become weary of the life she loved? Would she ever be able to settle down like Grayson had?

Grayson took her hand. ‘Let me introduce one lovely lady to three of my oldest friends.’ He brought her closer to the fence rail and patted the smallest of the horses on the nose. ‘This is Foxy. She’s the youngest of the bunch. A couple of years ago she escaped from a neighbour’s ranch and got hit by a truck.’

Foxy whickered as Grayson scratched her neck. ‘They were going to put her down. I offered to pay the vet’s bills and keep her if she survived.’

Lauren swallowed. ‘It wasn’t your truck was it?’

He glanced at her, his hand fisting in the horse’s mane. ‘No, but I knew the bastard who was driving. It was my father and he’d been visiting me. I suppose I felt partially responsible.’

Inwardly Lauren groaned. Another gold star for cowboy Ken. She reached forwards and stroked the silver nose of the second horse. ‘Who’s this?’

Grayson grinned, the tension left his face as quickly as it had appeared. ‘This is Flicka. She belonged to my mom. I offered to take care of her after my mom died.’ He frowned. ‘I knew my father wouldn’t be interested in keeping her and at least I get to ride her occasionally. She’s so gentle she’d be great with kids.’

Lauren couldn’t help but hear the faint longing in his voice. She could imagine him surrounded by kids, all of them adorable little black-haired scamps, a rosy-cheeked wife in the background . . .

‘And this is Robbie, my first horse and still the best. He’s a paint.’

Lauren admired the huge white horse with its characteristic swirls of brown markings like swipes of a paintbrush. She rubbed the horse’s nose, wishing she’d brought a treat for him.

‘My first horse was a paint,’ Lauren said. ‘They’re my favourite breed.’