Where Have All the Cowboys Gone? (7 page)

‘It’s time to get up, darlin’.’

Lauren burrowed her face against his warm chest and murmured something unintelligible. She squeaked as he gently swatted her backside and lifted her away from him.

‘I’ll shower first. It’ll give you more time to wake up.’

After Grayson rolled out of bed, Lauren squinted at the illuminated clock face. It was 4.30. As far as she was concerned, that was the middle of the night. Where on earth was Grayson going at this time in the morning? She groaned as she remembered the chickens and the other livestock. Perhaps he had a herd of cows to milk as well.

Curiosity propelled her out of bed and she staggered into the bathroom, a sheet clutched to her chest. Grayson was already in the shower, whistling a Johnny Cash song. Lauren cringed at his exuberance and only stopped to admire his muscular body through the clear shower glass. Grayson had the kind of muscles achieved by hard physical labour, not the sculptured perfection of a city gym attendee.

He rinsed off his hair and smiled. Before she could scuttle away, he opened the shower door and pulled her inside, sheet and all. She shrieked as he tried to make her face the spray.

‘You’re not a morning person, are you?’

He chuckled as he turned her against his broad chest, shielding her from the worst of the lukewarm water. Lauren began to revive as Grayson’s large hands smoothed down the length of her spine and back up. Leaning forwards, she licked droplets of water from his chest, enjoying the mixture of scents and tastes.

His fingers strayed lower, sliding down between her buttocks, probing her slick entrance. His tone became caressing. ‘Do you think you could manage a little loving before we head out?’

Lauren stood on tiptoe, enjoying the sensation of his cock pressed against her stomach. Grayson put his hands around her waist and lifted her until the tip of his shaft grazed her clit. He leant back against the shower wall, his eyes half-closed as he rocked his hips. Lauren wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked her right foot over his hip, straining to guide him inside.

Grayson’s firm grip around Lauren’s waist stopped her moving closer. With a helpless sound, she could only watch, mesmerised as he slid in and out of her in a steady, shallow, tantalising rhythm.

When Grayson bent his head and lazily licked her nipple in the same arousing pattern, Lauren closed her eyes. His teeth grazed her skin and she jumped.

‘Watch me, Lauren, watch my cock.’

The sliding, gliding pressure began to build as her sex swelled and she grew wet.

‘Please, Grayson,’ she urged, trying to pull him deeper, ‘please . . .’

He slid a little further down the tiled shower wall, bringing her closer to him. ‘Are you awake now, darlin’? Can you take a little more or should we be getting along? Those chickens need feeding.’

Lauren dug her nails into his biceps and he winced. ‘Don’t you dare leave me like this, or I’ll be feeding you to the chickens.’

He laughed then and brought her down on top of him in one swift motion. Lauren gulped at the sudden exquisite fullness and came with him as he drove himself inside her.

He held her close, his cock still buried inside her. He allowed the water to drum against his back as he gently soaped her skin and washed her hair. She allowed him to cherish her, amazed at how carefully he touched her despite his strength and superior height. Her eyes closed as she relaxed under his hands.

‘What a great way to start the day,’ Grayson murmured as he put her down and kissed her mouth. ‘Of course, I’ll have to set the alarm earlier if it’s going to become a habit of yours to seduce me in the shower, Mrs Turner.’

Before Lauren could reply, he helped her out of the shower and dried her briskly, ignoring her attempts to help herself. When he set her free, she stepped into the denim skirt and retrieved a long-sleeved T-shirt from her overnight bag.

Grayson wandered over, in the act of zipping his jeans as she selected a pair of panties. He took them from her and knelt at her feet.

‘You don’t really need these.’

Lauren stared down at him. ‘It’s cold out there – I might catch a chill.’

He slid a hand between her legs, his smile intimate, his voice even more so. ‘It’s as hot as hell in here and twice as inviting. If you get cold, just call me and I’ll be happy to warm you up.’

He slid one long finger inside. Lauren tried to mask her instant response but he knew. He brought his mouth closer and bit down on the curve of her hip bone. ‘I love it when you’re swollen and wet from me. I love being able to touch you like this whenever I want.’

Lauren tried to keep still as he curled his finger and unerringly located her G-spot. ‘Are you sore?’ he murmured. She shook her head. ‘Well, you will be if I make love to you again.’ He pulled her panties up her legs and smoothed them into place. ‘Let’s wait until after breakfast. We have the whole morning.’

Chasing chickens, cleaning out horse stalls and mixing animal feed before the sun even peeped over the horizon gave a woman an appetite. Lauren almost moaned with greed as Grayson expertly flipped a pancake and added it to the growing stack beside him. Eggs and bacon sizzled in the other pan and coffee bubbled in the percolator.

Lauren took a deep breath and surveyed the homely scene. She could get used to this. A man to make love to her all night and cook her breakfast in the morning. If only he knew how to do the laundry and clean toilets . . . With a mental shake, Lauren sipped at her tea. She had no doubt that Grayson could do those things but asking him would indicate an interest she had no desire to encourage.

Grayson brought the warm plates to the table and sat opposite her. His checked blue shirt highlighted the unusual colour of his eyes.

‘Eat while it’s hot,’ he ordered.

Lauren decided not to take offence at his tone seeing as he had done the cooking. The least she could do was show her appreciation. After a substantial silence when all Lauren could think about was food, she glanced across at Grayson.

At home, her father always pestered her with questions as to what she intended to do with her day. Her mother chimed in with gentle criticisms of Lauren’s table manners. With previous boyfriends, she’d always felt the need to chat to fill the awkward silences.

Grayson put down his coffee mug. ‘You’ve been staring at me for the last five minutes. Have I got egg on my chin or something?’

‘I was just thinking how restful you are.’

Grayson laughed, a deep rumble that started in his chest. ‘I’ve never been told that before.’

‘But you are, or at least, that’s how you make me feel.’ Lauren hastily grabbed her fork and started eating. Yet again, she’d said something stupid. What was it about him that made her relax her barriers?

‘It’s probably because I’m at peace with myself for the first time in my life. I’m doing something I love,’ Grayson said slowly. ‘If you can pick that up from me, why can’t my father? He still thinks I’m sulking down here.’

Lauren studied her empty plate and fought a losing battle with her curiosity. She understood his desire to find a job he loved, a lifestyle that made him happy. ‘Doesn’t he approve of your decision to live out here?’

Grayson stood up and began to stack the plates. ‘No, he doesn’t. Mainly because I didn’t choose to do what he did. That’s all it took.’ He scraped the plates into a bucket and opened the dishwasher.

Lauren scrambled to help. For some reason she wanted to comfort him. ‘I know how that feels. My dad still tries to direct my life even though I’ve started my own business and bought my own apartment. I guess I’ll always be his little girl.’

She started loading the dishwasher as Grayson finished cleaning the table.

‘My father wants a clone,’ Grayson said. ‘But I didn’t choose to become a lying cheating much-married bastard.’

He dropped the cutlery into the plastic basket with a crash. Lauren studied his face. Perhaps that explained why he wanted to stay married. She could only applaud him for it, despite the mess it left her in.

In an effort to distract him from a conversation he obviously found painful, Lauren held up the coffee pot. ‘Do you want more? I can just about make some.’

‘No, I’m fine. I’ve had more than enough excitement already this morning.’ He slammed the dishwasher shut and crossed to the sink to rinse his hands. He glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘Talking about my father always makes me unreasonable, don’t take it personally.’

Lauren fussed around at the table, lining the place mats up in a precise row. ‘That’s OK, families can be hell.’

Grayson gave her a reluctant smile. ‘Don’t I know it. I have five half-brothers and sisters scattered around the country thanks to my father’s wildcat ways. As the eldest, I try and keep my eye on them but it’s not always easy.’ Lauren came towards him and he dried his hands and stepped away from the sink. ‘I was thinking we should head into town this morning and get you a pair of jeans. Then after lunch I can take you on a tour of the ranch on horseback. It’s the best way to see it.’

Lauren smiled. ‘That sounds fine to me. Will you let me keep my panties on?’

Grayson reached forwards and ruffled her hair. ‘Of course you can. We couldn’t risk you bending over to tie your shoe on Main Street; you’d probably cause a riot.’

Lauren looked around the half-deserted streets of Springtown as Grayson parked his truck in front of the one and only bank. The town looked like a page out of a history book. Wooden sidewalks and stout rails protected pedestrians from the traffic below. Trees offered shade and benches were set out at regular intervals to tempt the weary. The shops had maintained their traditional wood frontings and authentic signs.

Grayson turned the engine off and glanced across at Lauren. ‘What do you think?’

‘I half expect Billy the Kid to come tearing down the street, shooting his gun.’

Grayson got out of the truck and came around to help Lauren down. ‘From you, I’ll take that as a compliment. Some of us got together about three years ago and decided to give the town a facelift. We used old photographs, plans and drawings to renovate the buildings in their original style.’

Lauren gazed at the Wells Fargo Bank, with its matching cast-iron boot scrapers outside the ornate double doors. ‘I like it,’ she said decisively. ‘All the modern conveniences within a historical shell.’

Grayson took her hand, his boots thumping on the wooden sidewalk, and led her towards the largest shop. The arched glass windows were painted with the words
MRS MAXWELL’S GENERAL STORE AND EMPORIUM
.

‘You should be able to get some jeans here. Mrs M. swears she has everything a woman wants.’

As they opened the door, a bell tinkled in the dark recesses of the shop. A quarter of the store contained a modern mini supermarket with freezers, chill cabinets and row of groceries. The section in front of Lauren was dedicated to horse paraphernalia. She saw at least forty different types of bits and bridles on the racks and every length of rope imaginable.

Grayson beckoned her towards the back of the store but Lauren just stood and stared. She wondered how old some of the stock was. From her basic survey, it appeared that Mrs Maxwell never returned anything. She could easily spend a day in here buying props for her upcoming project with the PBR.

Moving slowly, Lauren’s fascinated gaze skimmed over the shelves of horse remedies for hoof rot, worm and other parasites. A hand-cranked grain mill stood forgotten on a shelf next to a box of candle moulds. She almost tripped over a stack of open boot boxes that littered the floor.

‘Careful, there, sweetheart,’ Grayson called. ‘You don’t want to give Mr Givens a heart attack.’

Lauren blinked at the old man sitting in the midst of the boxes trying on cowboy boots. He gave her a wave and muttered something unintelligible into the depths of his white beard.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Turner, and what can I do for you on this fine day?’

Lauren could only see the bottom half of the female speaker as she was carrying a four-foot tower of shoe boxes. Grayson relieved the woman of her burden and touched his hat.

‘Afternoon, Mrs Maxwell. I’ve brought my friend Lauren in to buy a pair of jeans.’

A pair of sharp blue eyes behind thin gold-rimmed spectacles focused on Lauren. Mrs Maxwell looked to be in her eighties. ‘Welcome, my dear.’ She cast a coy glance at Grayson. ‘I’ve never known you to invite anyone to your ranch before.’

Lauren held her breath but Grayson smiled and said nothing. Mrs Maxwell stared expectantly until she seemed to realise she’d get nothing more. Her narrow shoulders sagged in her daisy-print dress and she headed for the furthest corner of the shop.

She switched on the dim lights in the changing rooms, which resembled barn stalls, and waved her hand at a wall of denim. ‘Here you go. I’m sure you’ll find something you like. Give me a holler if you need any help.’

After Mrs Maxwell returned to Mr Givens, Lauren walked across to the packed shelves. ‘I want size eight, low rise and boot cut. Can you see anything like that?’

Grayson gave a low whistle and took up position at the other end of the unit. ‘I’ll start looking, but don’t get your hopes up.’

After a fruitless fifteen minutes, Lauren went to find Mrs Maxwell. Mr Givens had departed. The shopkeeper muttered to herself as she repacked endless pairs of boots.

‘I don’t know why I put up with that old man. He never buys anything. I think he just comes in here for the pleasure of watching a woman grovel at his feet.’

Lauren cleared her throat. ‘Mrs Maxwell, I’m sorry to bother you but I can’t find what I’m looking for. Do you have anything with a low rise or a boot cut?’

Mrs Maxwell pushed her glasses up her thin nose, which looked like an over-sharpened pencil, and studied Lauren suspiciously. ‘Do you mean those jeans that the pop stars wear with their belly buttons hanging out?’