Hard Lovin' Man

She sighed wearily, thinking of Buddy bedded down in one of their stalls, of Sam tending his wound, and silently acknowledged that she was already in their debt.

Seeing the cabin ahead, she parked her truck alongside it, then grabbed her duffel bag from the seat behind her. Climbing down, she groaned as pain shot into her hip, a result of the bruised muscle she’d gained in the fall. Limping gingerly, she headed for the porch and fumbled the key into the lock. She gave the door a push and stepped inside, feeling along the wall for the light switch. After flipping it on, she looked quickly around to get her bearings, then switched it off and headed for the far door and the bedroom beyond.

Once inside the room, she dropped her bag and reached for the light switch.

“Well, hello.”

She jumped and whirled, a scream clawing its way up her throat. She nearly choked on it when she saw Travis lying in the bed, propped up on his elbows, grinning at her.

“What are you doing here?” she cried furiously.

Unconcerned, he sat up and plumped a pillow behind his head, then settled back against it. He folded his arms across his bare chest and smiled at her. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“Mandy gave me the key and told me I could stay here.”

“My brother gave me a key and told me the same thing.”

She stared at him, unable to prevent her gaze from slipping to the wall of muscled chest, the bulge of biceps on his folded arms, the sheet that draped his lower body from his navel down…and wondered if he was naked beneath it. Feeling the heat staining her neck, she jerked her gaze back to his. “B-but you can’t stay here,” she stammered. “I am.”

He smiled and patted the mattress beside him. “There’s room enough for two.”

With a snort of disgust, Lacey snatched her duffel bag from the floor. “I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

“Why not?” he returned, feigning innocence. “We’re family.”

“We are not!”

“Sure we are. My brother married your cousin, so that makes us family, too.”

Infuriated by his twisted logic, she whirled for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower, then I’m going to bed.” At the door, she stopped and turned. “On the couch,” she added tersely then slammed the door between them.

Travis heard the click of the lock, and tucked his hands behind his head, chuckling softly. Things were definitely looking up.

When he’d tried to talk to Jack again as his brother and his new wife were preparing to leave on their honeymoon, Jack had refused once again to listen to reason. Travis’s threat that he was remaining at the ranch until he was sure that Jack wasn’t making another mistake hadn’t even fazed his brother. Jack had just tossed him the key to the cabin and told him that if he was staying to make himself at home, do a little fishing and maybe do a few repairs on the old barn.

Travis’s smile broadened. Another week of his two-week vacation left to enjoy. A snug cabin, four lakes to fish and a beautiful woman to look at. Yeah, he thought smugly. Things were definitely looking up.

Lacey couldn’t sleep. Her mind churned with the day’s events and her chest ached with all the emotion bottled up inside.

A family, she kept telling herself over and over again. She had a family.

But she didn’t want another family, she argued silently, punching her pillow and bunching it beneath her cheek as she flopped over onto her side on the narrow couch. The one she’d left behind in Missouri had soured her for ever wanting another one.

The thought of her parents brought another swell of tears. All she’d ever wanted from them was their love, but they’d never been willing to give her even that. In retrospect, she could almost understand her stepfather’s coolness toward her. After all, he wasn’t her natural father, and he must have begrudged having to raise another man’s child as his own.

Lucas. Her chest tightened painfully. He’d never even given her a chance. He’d simply turned his back on her and gone on with his life as if she had never existed.

And her mother…she choked on a sob and pressed her hand over her mouth to smother it. The one person who should have loved her, didn’t. If anything, she resented Lacey. In her mother’s eyes, Lacey had robbed her of her dreams, and every time she looked at her daughter she was reminded of that loss.

It didn’t help that Lacey had succeeded where her mother had failed. A professional barrel racer, JoAnn Cline had been forced to give up her goal of winning a world championship when she’d discovered she was pregnant with Lacey. Lacey, though, without the encumbrance of a husband and children, had been free to pursue that dream, and was close, real close, to achieving her goal.

But not without Buddy.

Her lips trembled uncontrollably as her thoughts shifted to her horse and the injury he’d suffered. Without him she couldn’t compete, and she’d lose her place in the standings and her chance for Las Vegas and a shot at the world title. But worse than the loss of the title was the thought of losing her best friend. And that was what Buddy was to her. They’d been a team for six years, traveling the circuit, sometimes even sharing a rented stall when Lacey lacked the funds for a motel room. In some ways, she felt closer to him than she did to her mother or her stepfather.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the disturbing thoughts.

But another, even more troubling image, slipped in to replace them.

Travis Cordell.

Even as she thought of him, the iron bed creaked in the other room, reminding her of his presence in the small cabin. She pulled the blanket to her chin, picturing him as he’d looked when she’d first discovered him in the cabin. Reared back against the headboard; that wall of muscled chest; wearing nothing but a rakish smile and a sheet draped low on his waist.

She remembered the feel of his arms around her from earlier that evening, when he’d pulled her onto his lap in the trailer, the magnetic pull of his sexy smile, the huskiness in his voice when he’d whispered his intention to make love with her on the trailer’s narrow cot.

She flopped to her opposite side and bunched the pillow beneath her cheek. She didn’t want to think about him. And she wouldn’t, she told herself firmly.

My brother married your cousin, so that makes us family.

Cousins.

Half sisters.

Nieces and nephews.

Family.

She felt the tears rising again, and was helpless to keep them back as her thoughts churned full circle once again.

Travis awakened with a start, lifting his head from his pillow to listen. Slowly, he pushed himself to an elbow and stared at the closed door from behind which the sound came.

A shiver chased down his spine as the muffled sobs that had awakened him grew louder, more desperate.

What was going on? Was she hurt? Sick? Having a nightmare?

Not my problem, he told himself and dropped back down on the mattress, pulling the pillow over his head to block out the sound. She’d made it more than clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him.

But the sobs continued, penetrating the thick down that covered his head and wearing on his nerves until he tossed the pillow aside with a growl and rolled to his feet. Muttering curses under his breath, he jerked on his jeans and stalked barefoot into the living room.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Sitting on the sofa, limned by moonlight, her feet drawn up beneath her, her body bent almost double, her face buried in a pillow she held fisted across her lap. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a more pitiful sight…or hearing a more heartbreaking sound.

“Lacey?” he called softly.

When she didn’t respond, he crossed the room and hunkered down in front of her, bracing his hands on her knees. “Lacey. What’s wrong?”

She jerked away from his touch, curling tighter into herself. “Leave me alone,” she sobbed, her voice muffled by the pillow she kept pressed to her face.

Though there was nothing he’d like better, try as he might, Travis discovered he couldn’t leave her. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, then sank down on the couch beside her, draping an arm along the back of the couch behind her. He stared at the top of her head a moment, unsure what to do, then sighed again. He dropped his hand on top of her head and scrubbed roughly. “Hey. Come on. Nothing’s that bad.”

“Go away,” she wailed.

“Nope. Not until you stop your blubbering.”

She lifted her head from the pillow to glare at him, her eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll cry if I want to.”

He cocked his head thoughtfully as if reminded of something. “Isn’t there a song that goes something like that?” He hummed a few bars and then ducked, laughing, when she swung the pillow at him.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she cried furiously.

He sobered quickly and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Well, I’m not laughing.” She jerked the pillow back to her lap, wadding it into a ball, and stubbornly turned her face away from him.

“You’re not crying, either,” he pointed out gently.

And she didn’t want to cry any more. Especially not in front of him. But the tears were there, pushing at her throat. She shook back her hair and inhaled deeply, valiantly fighting them back.

“I guess you’ve had a pretty tough day, huh?” he said, watching her carefully.

She sniffed and dashed a finger beneath her nose. “I’ve had better.”

“The McClouds seem nice enough.”

Remembering Merideth and her caustic remarks, she replied bitterly, “Most of them.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She pressed her lips together as much in frustration as to hold back the tears. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do.”

She whirled to glare at him. “Why don’t you just go back to bed?”

“I will, if you’ll come with me.”

She snorted her opinion of his suggestion and whipped around to face the wall again.

He scooted closer. “Come on, Lacey. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? Sometimes talking helps.”

He watched her chest swell and her chin quiver as she fought back the tears. But in spite of her efforts, a tear slipped over her lower lashes and slid down her cheek. Another quickly followed.

“Aw, Lace,” he said gruffly, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her hard against his side. “Don’t start crying again.”

She struggled, obviously not wanting his comfort, but he tightened his hold on her, refusing to let her go. He felt a shudder move through her and when she tried to bury her face in the pillow again, he tugged it from her hands and tossed it aside. He forced her face against his shoulder, and it was as if he’d pulled the plug on a dam. He could feel the sobs that ripped through her body, the hot tears that scalded his arm and chest…and did what he felt any man would do in his place.

Prayed the well would soon run dry.

But in spite of his prayers, the sobs continued both in intensity and volume, until they echoed in his head and reverberated through his body.

“Lacey,” he said in concern, leaning to smooth her hair from her face. “You’ve got to stop or you’re going to make yourself sick.”

But she only cried that much harder.

“Is there something I can get you? Water? Aspirin?” When she didn’t respond, he dipped his chin and turned her face up toward his. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

The eyes that met his were flooded with tears. “H-he didn’t w-want me.”

“Lucas?”

She hiccuped a sob and nodded, then buried her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving violently.

He wrapped his arm tighter around her. “His mistake,” he said gruffly. “The guy must have been an ass.”

“M-my parents d-didn’t want me, e-either.”

“That’s not true,” he argued gently. He smoothed a hand over her hair, trying to comfort her. “All parents love their kids. There’s an unwritten law somewhere that says they have to, no matter what.”

“M-mine d-don’t,” she sobbed hysterically.

“Aw, Lacey,” he said, his voice growing husky. He drew her against his side and squeezed. “Nobody’s worth this many tears.”

If she heard him, she didn’t respond. And she sure as heck didn’t quit crying. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Travis tipped her chin up. “Come on, now. Surely there must be something that I can do to make you feel better?”

The eyes that looked up at him were flooded with tears. “H-hold m-me.”

He shook his head to clear his ears, sure that he’d misunderstood her. “Hold you?” he repeated.

Her breath hitched as she bobbed her head.

“Okay,” he said hesitantly and wrapped his other arm loosely around her, drawing her within his embrace. When he did, she threw her arms around his neck on a strangled sob, and pressed her body against his. His eyes widened in surprise at the strength, the desperation with which she clung to him. Moments ago she’d been shoving him away, demanding that he leave, and now she was clinging to him as if she was drowning and he was the only lifeboat around.

Even as he thought this, he became aware of other things. How small and fragile she felt in his arms, how defenseless, unlike the image she’d projected earlier. Tough. Independent. That I-don’t-need-anybody-and-I’m-getting-along-just-fine-on-my-own attitude that she wore so well.

In spite of his reluctance to offer her comfort, he found himself drawing her more closely within his embrace. He could feel the heat of her body pressed against his, the almost manic beat of her heart against his chest. Her tears scalded his neck, and ran down his chest.

She needed him.

And Travis never allowed anyone to get close enough to need him for anything.

He swallowed back the emotion that rose in his throat. He knew what it was like to yearn for human comfort, to need so badly it hurt, and have no one to turn to with whom to share the pain. Though his was a self-inflicted banishment, one he’d orchestrated after Jack’s first marriage, a secret that ate like a cancer at his soul, he figured that his and Lacey’s situations weren’t all that different. Neither one of them had family they could turn to.

Over the years, he’d taught himself to do without the love and support of his family, and to take what warmth and comfort he could from whatever physical relationships he became involved in. But he did so without committing himself to anything or anyone in return. As a result, he’d developed a style that other men envied. He could sweet-talk his way into a woman’s bed and out of it just as quickly, without leaving any hard feelings behind when he left. Sweet talkin’, hard lovin’ man. That’s the name he’d earned. And that’s the image he wanted to keep.

But when he slipped his hand to Lacey’s hip to shift her onto his lap, he wasn’t thinking about sex, or how he might sweet-talk this woman into his bed. He was just doing as she’d asked. Holding her. Giving her the comfort she seemed to need so desperately.

Yet when he eased her across his lap, and his hand slid from her hip to her thigh, his palm meeting bare skin…his thoughts shifted away from comfort and came dangerously close to lust. Her skin was so soft, he thought in wonder, so warm to the touch. He could imagine it heating even more when aroused.

Her breath hitched once, and she buried her face in the curve of his neck, locking her arms more tightly around him. He could feel the fullness of her breasts flattened against his chest, the almost painful dig of her pelvic bone against his groin…yet another reminder of the intimacy of their position. It would be so easy to just ease her down onto the couch and stretch out beside her. To kiss her and touch her until she forgot all about her problems. To fill his hands with her ripe, full breasts, suckle them until she was begging him to make love to her.

Don’t even think it, Cordell, he warned himself. This isn’t the time or the place.

She shifted and he sucked in a raw breath when her hip grazed his manhood. He wanted to hold her there, feel the warmth of her femininity nestled around him…but he couldn’t. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

On a low, frustrated groan, he let his head fall back against the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. Of all the times to decide to become a Boy Scout, Cordell, he reflected miserably, you picked a hell of a good one.

With a resigned sigh, he continued to hold her, unconsciously stroking her thigh, his palm moving up and down her bare leg in slow, soothing strokes. When his knuckles hit the edge of the T-shirt she wore, he scrupulously reversed the movement, smoothing his palm down to her bent knee again, trying to keep his thoughts chaste.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Don’t cry, Lace,” he whispered at her ear. “Come on, baby. Don’t cry anymore.”

But it seemed as if she couldn’t stop.

And Travis couldn’t let her go. He continued to hold her until his arms ached, his rear end grew numb and his voice was hoarse from whispering unintelligible words of comfort. He held her until, with a last shuddery sigh, she burrowed deeper against his chest, laid a hand over his heart, and grew quiet.

Fearing that any movement from him would make her start crying again, he continued to stroke her leg. With each slow movement upward, her T-shirt rose a little higher on her thigh, until his fingertips brushed the elastic of her panties.

Relaxed now, his mind dulled by exhaustion, he slipped a finger beneath the thin band and slowly traced its edge. Back and forth. Back and forth. The calluses on his palm chafing against her tender skin. From the inside of her thigh to the swell of her buttocks. Back and forth. Back and forth in a mindless journey to nowhere.

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