Catching Calhoun. Tina Leonard
being mysterious for you,” she snapped. “Kenny, Minnie, go sit in the stands, please.”
“’Kay, Mom. See ya, cowboy,” Minnie said.
“Now it’s just the two of us,” he said. “Clever of you to think of a way for us to be alone.”
She ripped off her mask, ready to dispel his over-enthusiastic appeal, when the huge grin on his face stopped her.
He winked, slowly and sexily.
Her breath caught inside her chest.
No, no, no, she’d told the kids about cowboys. And no she’d told herself. This man might be the best reason she’d ever met for saying no to cowboys.
“Your kids said I shouldn’t miss the show,” he told her, his husky voice sending chills down her spine. “My name’s Calhoun Jefferson, of the Union Junction ranch. Better known as Malfunction Junction,” he said with a grin.
“Why do I find that easy to believe?”
“Because you can tell I’m a man of my word.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Cowboy, you are full of yourself.”
“And you find it strangely appealing.” He patted Gypsy under her mane, right along her neck where she liked it best.
“Is that what all the ladies tell you?”
He grinned. “What ladies?”
She rolled her eyes and snapped her mask back on.
“Oh, come on,” he said softly, “unbend a little. A little mama like yourself ought to enjoy some harmless flirting. It’s nothing more than keeping a lonely cowboy company. And you’re not exactly hard on the eyes, you know.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Jefferson. And please refrain from buttering up my kids.”
“On the contrary. They buttered me up, put me on a plate and brought me to you for a friendly snack.”
She flicked Gypsy’s reins. “Friendly snacks have a way of putting weight on a woman, cowboy, and I’m on a special snackless diet. Goodbye.”
Olivia moved Gypsy forward, away from Calhoun. Calhoun! She might have known he’d possess an unusual name. He’d said he was harmless, but they all said that.
After tomorrow night’s show, she would round up Minnie and Kenny and head out of Lonely Hearts Station. Time was not on her side. That darn cowboy was reading her mind like a newspaper, and he knew full well she was attracted to him.
It wouldn’t hurt to take that bold confidence down a peg. Turning, she lifted her mask. “Mr. Jefferson.”
He grinned, obviously thinking his charm had won her over. “Call me Calhoun.”
She nodded. “Calhoun, did you beat the buzzer?”
“No, ma’am. I must admit I did not.”
“Ah.” She pretended great interest in her mask before looking back at him. Her voice sexy, she said, “How long did you last?”
He grinned. “Three seconds. Generally, I last as long as I need to, though.”
Her lips flattened out as she realized he was on to her wordplay, and his confidence wasn’t dented a bit.
“Yes,” he said expansively, “they call me Countin’ Calhoun. Three is usually my minimum. I’m disappointed cuz it’ll bring down my average of nine.”
“Nine seconds?” She blinked.
“Oh, no, ma’am. Nine…well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”
She felt the blush hit her cheeks like summer’s heat. Her hands snapped Gypsy’s reins of their own accord, and she rode stiffly away from his laughter.
Blast him. Now her mind was racing! Nine hours, nine orgasms, nine what? “I would love to know,” she grumbled to herself. “Braggart!”
She hadn’t enjoyed making love with her husband. Truthfully, she had been no proper wife, because if there had been a night she could avoid even kissing him, she did. Maybe she’d only gotten married to have children.
As much as she loved her father, his stranglehold on her younger self had been too much for her. In her heart, she’d made peace with the fact that most likely her teenage rebellion had blossomed into two children. It didn’t matter now, but she knew well enough from her marital experience that she was not a good wife.
So it really didn’t matter what Calhoun was counting—though she’d never before heard a man so proud of his numerals.
Chapter Three
Calhoun was impressed with Olivia’s act—the one where she pretended she wasn’t interested in him even more than the one with Gypsy, Grandpa and the barrels. He left the show, heading to his truck.
Olivia’s no-sizzle charade intrigued him. Never had he seen a lady with more sex appeal trying so hard to hide her light under a bushel basket, as the old-timers used to say. She wouldn’t even let loose with a smile for him—and that told him a lot.
It told him Olivia was chicken. He’d caught her checking him out, and she didn’t mind dueling with wordplay, so the passion was there. She’d simply turned her sex switch to the Off position.
A better man might find a way to flip that switch back on.
It would be a fun chase, and he had no doubt she’d give him the run of his life, which he would enjoy thoroughly. Yet it seemed to him that was probably how his brothers had ended up at the altar—thinking with their Sex Switch Fix-It Kits.
He had his nudes to keep him company, and he’d have to be satisfied with that.
“Calhoun?”
The voice stopped him before he took the tarp off the truck bed. He turned. “Olivia?”
She blushed. “Can I talk to you?”
She could talk to him. She could walk with him. She could— “Sure. What’s up?”
Glancing around, she said, “It’s a private matter.”
Oh, yeah. His favorite kind. “Well, we could sit in my truck, or we could walk to the tearoom, or—”
“Your truck is fine. Thanks.”
She hopped into the driver’s side and slid across the seat before he could open the door for her. Dang, he’d never had a woman so eager to spend time alone with him. He shut his door and waited expectantly.
“I won’t take up much of your time,” she began. “I must ask you to stay away from my children as much as possible. I know they’ve been seeking you out, and I’m going to talk to them about that, but in any case, I’d appreciate your help with this.”
Now that wasn’t the prelude he’d been hoping for. His spirit dimmed a bit. “Why? Have I upset you somehow?”
“No. It’s complicated, actually, and forgive me for not wanting to explain more, but it would just be best.”
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “For you, for me or for them?”
“For everyone.”
Hmm. This lady was more afraid of her switch than he’d thought. Tapping the steering wheel, he said, “Of course I will do whatever you ask.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded, sensing her relief. “Can I ask one question?”
“Yes.”
“If we weren’t attracted to each other, would I be getting this No-Kids-Zone request?”
She looked at him. “Cowboy, I never said I was attracted to you.”
“You