Twins for the Rebel Cowboy Read online

  His heart was pounding. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Hair a mess, lips swollen. His fingers traced the seam of her mouth as she sighed, her arms wrapping around his neck. He couldn’t wait. His hands were relentless—stroking, touching, pushing her long skirt past her thighs to her waist. With one tug, her underwear ripped free. Nothing separated them. And he couldn’t wait. She was warm, encasing him deep inside her. Her ragged whisper of “Oh Ryder” drove him on.

  His hands slid up her back, the silk of her skin and the brush of her soft curves inflaming him. He smoothed her hair back, his hands exploring her body, her curves, her softness. His nose brushed along the length of her neck, inhaling her scent. His lips latched on to her earlobe, making her gasp. Her hands moved up his chest, sliding along his shoulders to cradle his head. She arched against him, groaning hoarsely as they fit more deeply together. It was her groan that struck some sort of primal chord inside him. All at once, she was everywhere, holding him, overwhelming his senses. He gritted his teeth, fighting for control as she lost herself in the passion. Her body bowed, every inch of her tightening around him.

  Her release sent him over the edge. His climax hit hard, rocking him from his boots to every hair on his head. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think... All he could do was hold on. He gripped her hips, desperate to keep her tight against him. Even when it was over, he couldn’t ease his hold on her, couldn’t let her go—he didn’t want to. He wanted to etch the feel of her, the smell of her, into his mind before she slipped away. His hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her. He’d do whatever he could to hold on to this intimacy before the reality of what had happened sank in.

  Annabeth ended the kiss, shaking her head. “Ryder...” she gasped, her voice unsteady.

  How could he make this better? He smoothed her hair, but couldn’t look at her. He didn’t know what to do. But he knew he needed to do something.

  “Ryder?” There was already regret in her voice, he heard it.

  “Annabeth—” But that was all he managed to whisper. What could he say? He was banging his dead best friend’s wife in the cab of his truck. His head fell back against the seat. He’d ruined everything—like he always did. “Shit,” he murmured, still gasping for breath. As soon as the word slipped out, he knew he’d sent the situation from bad to worse.

  She tried to climb off his lap but wavered, her skirts pinned beneath him. He caught her, cradling her close and breathing in her scent. He wasn’t used to feeling uncertainty, or panic. But something about her pushing away from him, almost as if she couldn’t bear his touch, filled him with bone-deep loss. He pulled her skirts free and let her go, watching her smooth her clothing into place. She sat stiffly at the end of the bench seat, looking just as dazed and confused as he felt.

  He started the truck, adjusting his clothes as discreetly as possible. His mind worked overtime, looking for something to say to break the silence filling the cab of his truck.

  “Why...were you here?” she asked, running her fingers through her long golden hair.

  “Jasper called.”

  She glanced at him. “Who?”

  “The mechanic here. One that towed your car in? He told me what kind of car had slid off the highway and I knew it had to be you...your car. Figured you’d need help...or be stranded.” Greg’s car. No one else drove a midnight-blue 1967 Impala in this part of Texas. Which meant Annabeth, maybe Cody, was involved. Greg’s wife. Greg’s family. He swallowed, clearing his throat. She didn’t need to know the phone call had scared the shit out of him. He’d left all his lights on, and the door to his apartment was probably open. “I’ll have to order parts for Lady Blue.” Best thing about Greg’s car, it was all metal. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened to Annabeth if she’d been driving anything else. “Glad you’re okay.”

  “Thank you.” She was using her principal voice now, never a good sign.

  “On your way to get Cody?” he asked. She didn’t say anything, so he risked a glance her way. She was staring out the window, nodding. So she wasn’t going to talk to him. Fine. Why should he expect her to? He’d just taken advantage of her. In his truck cab. He shook his head, his hold tightening on the steering wheel.

  What the hell was he thinking? Hadn’t he screwed up enough relationships in his life? Annabeth wasn’t just another woman, she was his friend. And he didn’t have many of those.

  He glanced at her, wishing he had the words to fix this. Instead, he got caught up in how damn pretty she was. Pretty and smart and funny. Good and innocent and sweet. He stared straight ahead, turning the windshield wipers up.

  Annabeth Upton was the marrying type, not the one-night-stand type. He called her Princess to remind him of that. Didn’t work tonight. He’d broken his promise to Greg and jeopardized one of the only friendships that mattered to him.

  He hit ice several times, but he kicked his truck into 4x4 mode with no problems. It took twice as long to get back to Stonewall Crossing. By the time they turned into Annabeth’s neighborhood, the ice had turned to snow.

  He pulled into her driveway, leaving the truck running and the lights on. “Let me check the power.” He held his hand out for her keys. All it took was a hard rain and half of the small town lost power. An ice storm could be downright crippling.

  She put the keys in his hand, barely looking at him.

  He slammed the truck door behind him and hurried up the first two steps of the porch, slipped and landed, hard, on his butt.

  “You okay?” Her voice was laced with unmistakable laughter.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he answered, sliding as he managed to stand. “Laugh it up, Princess.” But, sore butt and all, he’d rather she was laughing than giving him the silent treatment.

  He made sure the tiny house had electricity and the faucets were working before heading back to the front door.

  Annabeth stood just inside. She looked at him, blushed and then hung her coat on one of the pegs behind the door. “Sorry you had to go out in that.”

  “Nothing else to do,” he shrugged. Which was a piss-poor thing to say. He’d gone because it was her—period.

  She rolled her eyes. She’d been rolling her eyes since he could remember. It always made him smile.

  “Good damn thing, too, or you’d have ended up alone at Ned’s place.” His shoved his hands into his pockets. “Troy Clark is bad news, Annabeth.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” he snapped. “You don’t know what kinda guy he is.”

  “Maybe. But I didn’t end up with my skirts around my ears in his truck tonight, did I?” She flopped into a chair, covering her face in her hands. “I can’t believe...” She shook her head. “I... I...”

  He stared at her then, murmuring, “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough. His good intentions didn’t matter. He hadn’t stopped things from getting carried away. Instead, he’d held on to her for dear life, wanting her so bad it hurt. What was worse, he knew he’d do it again if he could. Only this time he’d love her the way she should be loved, take his time, in bed, and worship every inch of her.

  “Ryder?” She looked up at him. Her huge hazel eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

  If she cried, he’d be useless. He knew what needed to happen next. “It was sex, Annabeth, that’s all.” Damn fine sex, in his mind. “Best if we pretend tonight didn’t happen.” No matter how hard that might be for him.

  She sniffed, nodding.

  But then an awful realization occurred to him. “You’re on the pill, right?”

  Annabeth went completely white, then red, her hands fisting in her lap. “No. No, I’m not. Because I’m a widow. A widow with a five-year-old. I haven’t...since Greg died. So no.”

  It was Ryder’s turn to sink into a chair. “Shit.”

  “You
already said that once.” She stood, paced into the kitchen, then back. “Why didn’t you use something? I mean, you’re you.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t think... I never thought we’d...” He broke off, words failing him. “It’s you.”

  “What does that mean, it’s me?” Her hands were on her hips. “You were all over me.”

  “I was trying to get you out of there—”

  “For sex.”

  He shook his head.

  “But...but you kissed me,” she argued, a range of emotions crossing her face. She stopped pacing, to glare at him. “Wait, back up. You came to get me because Jasper called. Then you saw me with Troy and went all caveman? Is that what you’re saying? You didn’t want Troy to have me, but you didn’t want me—” She broke off, red-faced and trembling.

  He didn’t say a thing. She was right. Initially, that was what had happened. He opened his mouth, took one look at her, and closed it again.

  “So, I was this pathetic—” Her voice broke. “You were trying to stop some sleazy hook-up guy and I—I forced myself on you?”

  “You didn’t force anything.” But now wasn’t the time to tell her he’d always wanted her. “Annabeth—”

  She held her hand up. “I really appreciate the ride home, Ryder, but I need you to go.”

  “Wait.” He gripped her shoulders. “What if you are preg—”

  “Do not finish that sentence.” Annabeth glared up at him. “It’s just...sex, right? Tonight didn’t happen. You picked me up and brought me home. The end.”

  “Now, Annabeth—”

  “That’s it,” she cut him off.

  “Wait.”

  “No!” she yelled.

  He stared at her, gritting his teeth. God, she was stubborn. And beautiful. And soft...and warm. His stomach tightened.

  “Just go.” Her voice was shaking. She was shaking.

  Leaving didn’t feel right.

  “Please,” she added. “Go.”

  “I’ll go,” he murmured, forcing himself to release her.

  She nodded, watching him.

  He pulled his coat closed, opened the door and stepped out.

  A gust of cold air blasted him, carrying a faint cry of distress to him. He froze, turning in the direction of the sound and slipped. He landed flat on his back. “Shit!” he yelled, half on Annabeth’s icy walkway and half in the icy-wet grass. He sighed, staring up at the sky.

  He heard the noise again, a long, pitiful sound.

  Annabeth’s voice rang out, “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Stay there.”

  “Ryder—” She burst out laughing.

  He heard the sound again, a long, pitiful wail. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “You hear that?”

  But she was laughing too hard to hear him.

  He shook his head, pushing himself onto his feet. He stood, listening. The sound started again, then another. From the house behind Annabeth’s. “That house still vacant?”

  “The Czinkovic place? Sadly, yes.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Why?”

  “You don’t hear that?” he asked. “Now that you’re done laughing?”

  She grinned, but didn’t say anything. They stood still, listening to the roar and whistle of the wind, and the faint cry coming from the empty house. “What is it?” she asked, stepping carefully onto the front porch.

  “I’ll find out,” he said.

  Chapter Two

  Annabeth watched her sweet little boy’s eyes go round as her grandmother chattered away.

  “And then I found my teeth in my underwear drawer.” Grandma Florence patted Cody on the head.

  Cody put the escaping gray kitten—the kitten making such a terrible racket the night of the storm—back on Grandma Florence’s lap. “Oh.”

  Annabeth shook her head, stirring the onions in the skillet. “Grandma, I can get you another case for your dentures.” At least her grandmother only lost the storage containers and not the dentures themselves. That would get expensive real quick.

  “It won’t do any good.” Her grandmother leaned forward, her whisper low and conspiratorial. “Because they’re not lost. Someone’s taking them. I think it’s that Franklyn. He’s always in my things, digging around. And he has that look.”

  Annabeth knew the medical assistants at Grandma Florence’s home didn’t get much pay or much thanks, but poor Franklyn didn’t have a thieving bone in his body. What he did have was the patience of a saint. “What look?” Annabeth glanced at the older woman.

  “You know...that look.” Florence screwed up her face in horror. “Like he’s watching me. Plotting things. Up to no good.”

  Cody burst out laughing at his great-grandmother’s expression, making it impossible for Annabeth not to laugh, too.

  The tiny prick of needlelike claws drew Annabeth’s attention down to her calves. Tom was hanging from her jeans, his little white-tipped tail sticking straight up. He mewed, his pink tongue on full display.

  “You’re adorable,” Annabeth said to the kitten. “But it’s a good thing I don’t have a spatula in my hands or—”

  “Ma,” Cody reprimanded her, kneeling at her feet to gently detach Tom from her pant leg. “Be good.” Cody lifted the kitten in his arms, carefully cradling the animal as he carried it across the room to the box he’d made for its bed.

  “Cats in the kitchen.” Grandma Florence clicked her tongue. “Never heard of such a thing. Cats are barn critters. ’Course one time we had a cat that got too close to the—”

  “Grandma Flo.” Annabeth was quick to interrupt. Her grandmother was rarely lucid enough to have a real conversation, but the old woman had a never-ending stream of stories to share. And not all of them had child-friendly endings. “How’s work?”

  Florence sighed. “I’ve never met such a lazy group of people in my life, Hannah.”

  Annabeth turned back to the cooking with a smile. Grandma Florence had dementia. On good days, Florence would call her Annabeth. But sometimes Annabeth was Hannah, Florence’s daughter and Annabeth’s mom, or Glenna, Florence’s sister.

  “You do the best you can,” Annabeth encouraged her.

  “I do.” Her grandmother nodded. “I do. Someone’s got to run a tight ship.”

  Grandma Florence ran the assisted-living community where she lived. At least that’s what Grandma Florence thought. And the staff cooperated, within reason, to keep the feisty old woman under control. So far, it was the only facility Grandma Florence hadn’t successfully escaped. Annabeth hoped it would stay that way, or they’d have to move her again—and the next facility was two towns over.

  Cody giggled, making Annabeth glance his way. He lay with the kitten on his chest. Tom seemed just as delighted, nuzzling and licking Cody’s nose.

  The sheer joy in his laughter warmed her heart. God knew she didn’t want or need something or someone else to look after. Managing Cody, work and her grandmother didn’t leave her time for herself—let alone a stray fur ball. But Ryder had worked for a half hour to free the little guy from the abandoned house next door, and she couldn’t turn it out into the freezing cold.

  Cody’s giggle jerked her back to the present. He pulled a colorful string of yarn across the floor, and Tom scampered after it, all ears and tail and gray fluff. Her sweet boy never asked for anything, so how could she tell him no when he’d asked to keep Tom? She didn’t. And now Cody and Tom were inseparable—unless Tom was climbing up her pants, panty hose, the curtains or the tablecloth.

  There was a knock on the door. “Anyone home?” Ryder called out.

  Ryder... She’d spent four weeks refusing to think about that night. Or Ryder. Or how mortified she was. She never acted without thinking things through. She could blame
either the two shots or Ryder’s kiss for her outrageous behavior. She hoped, for everyone’s sake, it was the shots.

  She took a deep breath before calling out her standard “Nope.” Sure, he hadn’t dropped by for dinner since it happened, but he used to. All the time. If she was being completely honest with herself, she—and Cody—had missed him. And there was no point in getting weird about things, either. Ryder was a part of her life. She liked having him around.

  She’d just have to try harder to forget every touch, scent and sound from that night...or the way she ached when she thought about his hands on her. So she just wouldn’t think about it.

  “You sure?” Ryder called out.

  “R-r-ryder,” Cody laughed. “Mom’s m-making ’sgetti.”

  “With meatballs? Smells good,” Ryder said. Annabeth turned as he walked into her small yellow kitchen, heading straight for Florence. “Well, if it isn’t the prettiest gal I know.”

  Florence waved him to her wheelchair. “Get yourself on over here and give me a kiss.”

  “Try to stop me,” Ryder said, hugging the older woman’s frail body tightly and kissing her cheek.

  “I was wondering when you were coming home, Michael. It’s not good to spend so much time at the office. Especially when you’ve got a pretty little wife like Hannah, here, waiting at home.” She patted Ryder’s hand. “You’re a lucky man. You need to treat her right.”

  Ryder looked at Annabeth. “Don’t I know it.”

  Annabeth rolled her eyes, wishing his teasing didn’t sting. He might have chosen to be alone, but she hadn’t. Life was work, work she’d always thought she’d share with someone. She wanted to treasure the same memories, the same people, with someone who knew and loved her soul. But Greg was gone. Dating wasn’t on her detailed master plan for the next five years or so.

  “Cody,” she spoke to her son. “Wash up and come to the table, please.”