Wanted!. Vicki Thompson Lewis
“Glad to be of service.” She unscrewed her lens from the camera and stowed everything carefully in her backpack before walking forward. “I’m here on vacation.”
“No, really?”
She laughed. “I know. Hard to believe. I’m sure I look very Jackson Hole to you.”
“Depends.” His gaze lingered as he surveyed her outfit. “We get Hollywood types up here.”
Being mistaken for a Hollywood type gave her a needed boost. Being ogled did, too. When she’d thought herself in love with Herman, she’d considered him frugal. Now she saw him as stingy, both with his money and his compliments.
This cowboy didn’t seem like the stingy type. She loved the way he talked, slowly and deliberately, which she guessed came from living in the wide-open spaces. His eyes, she discovered on closer inspection, were green.
“I’m not from Hollywood,” she said. “I’m from … actually, never mind where I’m from. It doesn’t matter. I’m on vacation from that place. No need to mention it.”
“Where’re you staying?”
She considered that a promising question, as if he might like to know how accessible she’d be while she was in the area. “Here.”
“Ah. Overflow from the Bunk and Grub, I’ll bet.”
“That’s right. Somebody ended up staying an extra week so Pam sent me down here.”
“Happens all the time. I hope you’re not too disappointed to find yourself on a ranch instead of a cozy B and B.”
“Not at all. It’s magnificent.” And so are you. It was okay for him to ogle her, but she felt uncool ogling him. Yet she couldn’t help it. His bare chest was a sight to behold—dusted with reddish-brown hair, muscled, and gleaming with sweat.
He nudged his hat back with his thumb. “Bet they put you in Roni’s room.”
“I’m not sure. Is she a NASCAR fan? There’s lots of NASCAR stuff in there.”
“She’s a mechanic for one of the teams, only comes home for holidays.”
Dominique hoped Roni wasn’t his girlfriend. She hoped nobody was his girlfriend. “I’m glad her room is available.” Are you? She peeked at his left hand, but lack of a ring meant little these days.
“First time in Wyoming?”
“Yes. I wanted to see something different.”
“You mean like mountains and moose?” His green eyes sparkled with laughter.
“I suppose you think it’s funny that I wanted to take your picture.” She was close enough to catch his musky scent. She used to love sweaty sex. Herman had been an efficient lover, a competent lover, but he preferred air-conditioned bedrooms, so there hadn’t been much sweat involved.
“Actually, I’m flattered. It’s not often some good-looking woman points a camera at me for no good reason.”
“I had a reason.” She hadn’t meant that to sound quite so husky and seductive. She cleared her throat. “What I meant was—”
“No, no, don’t backtrack on me. I liked the implication of the first answer.”
“Which was?”
“That you think I’m hot.”
“Maybe.” She found his swagger incredibly sexy.
His smile revealed even white teeth. “For the record, I think you’re hot, too.”
Now that was good to hear. With such white teeth, he must not chew tobacco. She’d thought about that as she’d fantasized a close encounter with a cowboy. A chaw of tobacco didn’t figure into her fantasy. Eeuuww.
He stepped toward her, the first move he’d made in her direction. “So what are we going to do about our mutual hotness?”
Her breath caught. She’d started this interchange, but he’d just taken charge and issued a challenge. He probably expected her to turn tail and run.
She hadn’t come all the way to Wyoming to run away at the first sign of adventure. She was bound and determined to rediscover her impulsive side. Her heart pounding, she stood her ground. “I’m not sure. Any suggestions?”
He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans so that his hands framed his crotch. “I can think of a way to handle it.”
She could tell he still expected her to back down. Well, he was in for a surprise. Trying not to hyperventilate, she gazed into his green eyes. “So can I.”
He stared at her. “You’re not playing games, are you?”
“No.” She swallowed and tried to breathe normally. “Are you?”
“I was a minute ago, but … damn, lady. Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
Adrenaline poured through her system. “Look, the last month has been hell. My steady boyfriend dumped me when his boss’s daughter proposed. I scheduled this vacation to get away, to be in a completely different environment, and I …” The adrenaline began to fade, leaving her shaky. “The thing is, we don’t have cowboys in Indianapolis.”
He studied her in silence.
Her words seemed to hang between them in an embarrassing display of misplaced chutzpah. She began to squirm. “Forget I said any of that. I’ll be going now.” She turned.
“Don’t leave.” He reached for her hand.
She felt his touch all the way to her toes. No, cancel that. She felt his touch all the way to her womb. Hands so callused and strong could heal her. But only if he truly wanted this.
She turned back to him. “If you’re feeling sorry for me, then—”
“No, I’m feeling sorry for the stupid bastard who put career advancement ahead of being with you.”
Hearing that from a sexy cowboy was worth her plane ticket and lodging. “Thanks.”
“Come on.” He drew her toward the truck.
She resisted. “I don’t need you to drive me back to the ranch house. I’ll walk.”
His grip tightened and his gaze locked with hers. “I wasn’t planning to take you back.”
2
NICK WAS A FIXER. Pop psychology said that was his role as the middle kid in a family of three boys, and maybe there was something to the theory. He’d been drawn to veterinary school partly because he saw it as an alternative to hard physical labor, but mainly because he loved healing injured creatures.
He’d been the boy who brought home the strays, the birds with broken wings, even a porcupine once, which had not been appreciated by his family. But that was what the Last Chance Ranch was all about, giving people and animals a second chance at life. His grandpa Archie would want it that way.
He wasn’t sure what his grandpa would have said about this woman, but Nick saw her as injured, at least psychologically. Some jerk had done a number on her and left her to bleed. Nick wanted to help.
He was honest enough to admit that wasn’t his only motivation. Helping her would be a lot more fun than bandaging a horse’s leg or delivering a breech-birth calf. Thank God he had an emergency condom tucked in the glove compartment.
Jack wouldn’t be happy that Nick hadn’t dug all the required postholes, but in days gone by Jack would have quickly abandoned the postholes for a chance like this. Just because Nick’s big brother wasn’t interested in the opposite sex these days didn’t mean Nick couldn’t indulge. Besides, this was an act of mercy.
And sweet mercy, she had incredible legs.