Not My 1st Rodeo Page 9

  “Mack?” she said, her eyes lighting up.

  He nodded. “Karen?” Then, because he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next in this situation, he stuck out his hand. It seemed the safest bet.

  Except it wasn’t. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into her arms. She wore a scent that was light and sweet, almost like vanilla and roses. Unconsciously, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. As he did, her breasts pressed against his Sunday-best blue dress shirt and his only suit jacket, the heather-gray one that Sue had picked out for him to wear to her funeral.

  It was damned hard to think of Sue and have Karen hold him like this, her arms tight around his chest, murmuring the words, “It’s so good to meet you in person.” So he tried to stop. Sue was gone and she’d wanted him to go on with his life. She’d made him promise he would, because that was the kind of woman she’d been.

  So this was Mack trying to go on with his life. “It’s, uh, it’s good to meet you too.”

  He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with his hands. If he hugged her back, he’d be touching her bare skin or—worse—if he wasn’t doing that, he’d have his hands on her ass. It really didn’t matter how nice her ass was—he glanced down. Whoa. It was a nice ass.

  He began to get hard and then he immediately started to panic. This was too much, too soon. He was still married, for God’s sake. Sort of. In the eyes of the Lord. Probably.

  Thankfully, she let go of him and stepped back, which helped a lot in the sense that she wasn’t pressing her body against his and wouldn’t be able to feel his erection. But it didn’t help that he now had an up-close-and-personal view of her in that dress. It left very little to the imagination. He was sure that if he looked at her just right, he’d be able to make out the details of her nipples through the thin red fabric.

  He kept his gaze locked on her face.

  “I’m glad you came out tonight,” she said, and the next thing he knew, she’d leaned up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. She still had a grip on his hand. He couldn’t go anywhere. “I was hoping you would.”

  “We made a date,” he heard himself say. “I keep my word.”

  Which was pretty much the only reason he was here, looking at temptation in the form of a divorced florist named Karen Thompson instead of sitting in his living room, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other, just like he’d done every other night for the last six years.

  She lifted one of her eyebrows as she beamed at him. “I am very glad to hear it. Do you want to eat dinner or…” Her voice trailed off and Mack had to lean forward to try and catch the last part of the sentence. Or what? “Well, dinner,” she finished. “We can talk.”

  Talking. Not one of his stronger suits, not anymore. “Sure,” he forced himself to say. “That sounds great.”

  “This way.” She turned and, without releasing his hand, led him across the lobby to the restaurant. Mack followed. What choice did he have?

  The restaurant, much like the rest of the hotel, was nearly deserted. Not much tourism in Montana in January, apparently. The waitress lead them back to a small table for two tucked behind a screen of heavy damask draperies that muffled the noise from the restaurant. Mack held Karen’s chair for her and then put his hat on the table behind them.

  He didn’t know what to say, so he waited for her to take the lead. Instead of making small talk, she took her time looking him over.

  It made him nervous, which was not an emotion he enjoyed. Some of the women at church looked at him like that every single Sunday. Mack had trained himself to ignore them because, as nice as some of those ladies were, he was not interested in getting married again. He’d been married once and once was it.

  And yet here he was, sitting in a restaurant far away from the prying eyes of home with a woman wearing very little clothing. This was not a meeting that would lead to marriage and more kids, that he knew.

  But it might lead to sex.

  He still wasn’t so sure about that. Then he noticed the two tight points poking through her dress. Okay, part of him was positive that all roads tonight led to sex. Wasn’t that why he’d come? Wasn’t that why he’d swallowed his pride and stopped at a drugstore here in Billings—where no one would recognize him—and bought some condoms? Because he was still a man and a man had needs and those needs were best met by someone he did not have to sit across the aisle from in church as they listened to the preacher go on about resisting temptation and avoiding sin.

  Could he do that? Sleep with a woman he barely knew? Even a woman as beautiful and sensual as Karen Thompson?

  She just kept on looking. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Yes?”

  “I was just wondering,” she began, trying to turn her attention to the menu, “what time you got up this morning?”

  He began to spin his wedding band. “Five. Well,” he said and honest-to-God blushed. “Five fifteen. I did hit snooze once.” It was a bad habit he got into during the winter months. But it was damned hard to get up when it was below zero outside.

  “You say that like it’s a crime or something, to lay in bed for an extra fifteen minutes at what a reasonable person would still consider to be the middle of the night.”

  His face got even hotter. When was the last time he blushed? “I’m not much of a night owl. I get up at four during the summer. Better to get all the work done before the afternoon when it’s just too danged hot.”

  She smiled at him as she leaned forward. “Danged, huh?”

  If his face got much hotter, he was going to burst into flames. “I’m in the presence of a lady.”

  Something in her eyes…deepened, like that was the answer she’d been waiting all day to hear. “I won’t keep you up too late then.”

  He nodded his head in appreciation of this simple observation, but the truth was he had made plans. Emergency plans, just in case. In case he didn’t make it home tonight. After all, he was a long way from home in the middle of winter. The roads could ice. A freak blizzard could hit.

  Or he could spend the night with Karen Thompson.

  Thankfully, the waiter came. Without even looking at the menu, Mack ordered a beer, the T-bone—bloody rare—and the baked potato. Karen got the chicken with a side salad and a glass of chardonnay.

  Then they were alone. He was spinning his ring again, but he was powerless to stop. How long would it take to get his beer? Because he could use a drink. Maybe he should have ordered whiskey.

  “How far did you drive?”

  “It’s about three hours from my side of Butte to Billings.” He desperately wanted to say something else—something witty or funny or charming even. Something that one of his sons might say. But he had nothing. He had no idea how to talk to a woman.

  “Are you headed back tonight?”

  Mack swallowed down his nerves. He needed to suck it up here and fast. So what if Karen was looking at him like he was a puzzle she was trying to work? He’d made his bed. He had to lie in it. “I made contingency plans, in case the weather turns or something.”

  Something that involved nudity.

  His phone chimed. “Sorry about that,” he said as he glanced at the text—another one from Tommy. “Ask her about her store!” it said.

  “Shutting down, kid,” he texted back and turned his phone off.

  Karen had a bemused look on her face. “That was my boy, my youngest. He likes to text,” Mack tried to explain.

  “Tommy, right?”

  Mack nodded again. “Listen, I don’t know exactly what happened, him setting me up on that website like he did. If he crossed a line or misled you in any way about…” he swallowed “…about me, I apologize. I don’t like the thought of you being here under false pretenses.”

  One of her eyebrows notched up and she leaned forward. “False pretenses? And what might those be?”

  �
��I’m not looking to get married.”

  For some reason, that made her laugh. She leaned back and a carefree laugh broke free from that righteous chest of hers. “Oh, Mack. I’m not looking to get married either. I tried that once and it didn’t work out so well.”

  Mack’s face got hotter. Much more of this and he was going to start sweating. “Is that why you were on NotMy1stRodeo? If you don’t mind me asking. I’m going to be honest, I’m not real sure what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

  She laughed. “Trust me, that’s not an offensive question.”

  He managed to crack something that was almost a smile. “Glad to hear it.”

  “I was…curious,” she explained. “I was married right out of college to a man who was supposed to be this amazing catch. Roger.” She made a face, as if the name left a bad taste in her mouth. “It was supposed to be perfect. He had a great job with his dad’s law firm, good looks. We were going to start a family and live happily ever after, the true American dream.”

  The drinks came, thank God. Mack took a long pull of his beer. “Happily ever after is a long time,” he said without looking at her.

  “It is. Looking back now, I’m not sure he was ever faithful to me, but I didn’t catch on for a couple of years. We went through a few years of counseling but…”

  She paused. Staring at her wine, she gently spun the glass in her hands.

  Mack felt a surge of anger. “He didn’t deserve you,” he announced. “He was an idiot. When a man promises to love and honor a woman, he should stand by that promise.”

  Karen held his gaze. He might have been imagining things, but he thought he saw her sigh in satisfaction “Yes, that’s exactly why I was on a website called NotMy1stRodeo.com.”

  “What is?”

  “That sense of honor.” She leaned forward. “I understand that this is not exactly comfortable for you, but you made me a promise and you kept it. I grew up in the Chicago suburbs, which was a great place, but there wasn’t that sense of obligation. People gamed the system, the buck stopped somewhere else and people judged you on every single thing you did.”

  “I’ve heard the big cities can be rough,” he agreed. “I’ve never been anyplace bigger than Billings, except for Cheyenne, Wyoming.” That was where he’d spent his honeymoon, because that was as far as they’d gotten before they run out of gas.

  He felt a little stupid, because that statement made him sound like some yokel from the sticks. He knew that Cheyenne and Billings combined wouldn’t even come close to Chicago. Dammit, he was not making the best of impressions here.

  But Karen just smiled encouragingly at him. “My dad always liked watching old Gunsmoke and Maverick reruns, where a man’s word was his bond.” She looked up at him through thick lashes. “I guess I was curious…to see if cowboys really were like that—truth, justice, the American Way—all of it.”

  She reached over and rested her hand on top of his right one—the one that was still spinning his wedding ring. Mack forced himself to be still. Her palm was warm and light against his skin. “I’m not looking to get married either. I just want to know if…if there are men still worth believing in.”

  In that moment, Mack forgot about his nerves. He forgot about being too old or being out of practice. Even Sue’s death—well, it’s not like he could forget that. But the sting of it seemed to fade to the background.

  Maybe he was old-fashioned, and maybe he was stretching here, but there was something in her tone that made him want to shelter her from the rest of the world full of weaselly ex-husbands and people who game the system. He wanted to prove to her that he, at least, was someone she could believe in.

  He flipped his hand underneath her palm and curled his calloused fingers around hers. It was a small touch, but he felt a connection between them—a heat that went beyond a handshake.

  “Karen,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, “you have my word, when I make you a promise, I will keep it.”

  Chapter Two

  “Oh.” Karen exhaled as every single thing about her responded to Mack Tucker. Her nipples tightened—hell, her clit tightened—as his rough hands stroked hers and his words reverberated through her. This strong, silent cowboy was exactly what she’d wanted when she’d joined that ridiculous dating site. “That’s…that’s good to know.”

  At her breathy response, something changed in his face. The worry lines that creased his forehead softened at the same time his eyes deepened. Suddenly, Mack looked less like a man being audited and more like a man who might like to go up with her to the king suite she’d gotten for the night and spend the next several hours proving all the different ways he’d keep his promises.

  “So,” Mack went on, “tell me about you.” He moved his thumb over her skin again, strong and sure. “Tell me about your store.”

  God, she wanted to swoon right here. But she’d just gotten him to open up a little bit and she didn’t want to scare him off. There was still a difference between keeping the promise for dinner because of a sense of honor and a night in this cowboy’s arms. So she forced herself to pull it together. “After my divorce, I decided I wanted to get away from Chicago. I needed a fresh start someplace new. I’d been working at my husband’s law firm, and I didn’t want to do that anymore. I wanted…” She sighed. “I know this sounds silly, but I wanted to make something with my hands. I wanted to make people feel like there was still hope in the world.”

  He gave her a confused look. “So you became a florist?”

  “Well, yeah.” She laughed. “I looked back at my marriage, my life, trying to find the thing that would make me happy. And the thing that kept coming back to me was when I got flowers. I think that’s why I fell for Roger. I remember him sending me a dozen roses after that first date and feeling…”

  “Hope,” Mack said, nodding. “I get that. Even before Sue died, people were sending flowers so she could see them. It was…” He lowered his head, like he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “It was like this little bit of life that went on, a little bit of beauty and grace in a dark time.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” They sat there for a moment, their hands linked.

  This wasn’t exactly how she’d thought this date would go. She knew Mack was a widower—his profile had said so. But on the other dates Karen had been on since she’d moved to Billings, they’d studiously avoided discussing past relationships as if they were Kryptonite. Apparently, one simply did not acknowledge one’s past on a first date, which had always felt a little dishonest to her. It wasn’t as if she wanted to rehash all the myriad ways Roger had done her wrong with someone who was essentially a stranger, but she had trouble pretending that part of her hadn’t happened. Being divorced was a central part of her identity now, just as Mack being a widower was part of his. There wasn’t any way to ignore the facts.

  Their food arrived, and she was forced to remove her hand from his grip. She shivered at the loss of his warmth. No, this dress wasn’t exactly rated for this time of year, but it wasn’t like she was going to walk outside in the driving winter wind. She had no plans to leave this hotel.

  Besides, it’d been worth it to see the look on Mack’s face when she’d crossed the bar to greet him. The way his eyes had lit up—yes. That’s what she wanted. To feel desirable again, to feel wanted. For too darned long, she’d felt unattractive, unwanted. Roger hadn’t looked at her like he wanted her. He’d looked at her like she was just there. No love—no lust. She’d felt like an obligation he had to meet most of the time, if he remembered she existed at all.

  She didn’t want feel forgotten anymore. She’d lost a part of herself to a failed marriage and she wanted that part back. She wanted to walk into a room and know that her date couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She wanted to know that he was thinking about what was underneath the dress—that he wa
s thinking about her.

  It wasn’t wrong to need that. She was a grown woman with a sex drive and she was tired of being invisible.

  So this was her being highly visible. Going braless helped. Given the way Mack was looking at her, it helped a lot. He hadn’t stopped staring at her and he did not look at her as if she were nothing more than an item on his to-do list that couldn’t be avoided. He’d made her a promise and he was going to keep it.

  She couldn’t think of a bigger turn-on.

  After they started eating, Mack waited a bit for her to finish her bite. “So you bought a floral shop in the middle of Montana, huh?”

  “I did.” She laughed. “I found it for sale online and thought, why not? I had my divorce settlement and the cost of living here is a fifth of what it is in Chicago. It’s a fresh start, that’s for sure. It was a turnkey operation and most of the staff stayed on. For the first year, I was more of an apprentice than the owner. Flo—that’s one of the older ladies who works for me—taught me a lot.” She shot Mack a funny look. “She tried to set me up with her son. It did not work out.”

  Mack grinned, which took another five years off his face. “Lucky for me.”

  Oh, yeah. He was loosening up a little bit. He was a wildly handsome man, the salt in his salt-and-pepper hair starting to come in at his temples. He wore a beard, probably because it was the dead of winter. His face had the weathered look of a man who spent most of his times outdoors, but when he smiled?

  When he smiled at her? When his gaze drifted over her body and his pupils dilated with desire? God, how she wanted his calloused hands to move over so much more than just her hand.

  She hadn’t lied. She was not looking for another husband. But she wanted to feel more alive than just arranging roses for weddings and funerals could make her feel. She wanted to take the next step to putting her divorce behind her, and that meant something physical—on her terms this time.

  “So how long have you been in Billings?”

  “Almost three years now. I moved out after the divorce was finalized.”