The Cowgirl & The Unexpected Wedding. Sherryl Woods
who’d gone and grown up into a beautiful, willful woman who’d twisted his heart into knots. No man should have to contend with loving a woman like that and watching her walk away.
Today he was back in the same pasture, doing the same work all over again, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of her. What kind of fool did that make him? He’d been asking himself that since sunup and he didn’t like the answer any better now than he had hours ago.
Hopefully, Cody wasn’t spreading the word about what a pitiful spectacle Hank was making of himself. When he glanced up a few moments later, he thought he was seeing things. There was Lizzy Adams strolling across his pasture looking very much at home and pretty as a picture in her snug jeans and bright red shirt, her black hair streaming down her back under a big black Stetson. Right at this second, with that long, athletic stride of hers, she was a cowgirl through and through. He could almost make himself believe she hadn’t changed at all.
Nor, unfortunately, had his reaction to her. His blood heated as if she’d done a whole lot more than offer him a smile and a wave. He was glad then that he’d waited to see her, glad that this first meeting wasn’t taking place in front of all those prying, hopeful Adams eyes.
She looked confident and sassy and so damned tempting that Hank clutched the posthole digger a little tighter to keep from dragging her straight into his arms and giving her a proper—well, improper, actually—welcome.
Lizzy didn’t seem inclined to show the same restraint. Her pace never even slowed as she sashayed toward him, lifted her hands to his cheeks, gazed straight into his eyes and planted a kiss on him guaranteed to fell a saint. The woman never had hesitated to take what she wanted. Her daddy had always led her to believe that it was her due.
There was hunger and passion and maybe even a little greedy desperation in that kiss on his part and hers. She smelled of sunshine and some kind of exotic flower and she tasted just the way he’d remembered with a hint of mint on her breath. They were both trembling and breathless by the time she pulled away.
“Damn,” she murmured, her expression shaken.
Hank grinned. He knew precisely how she felt, as if the ground had shifted under their feet when everyone had declared the earthquake safely past He dredged up his sense of humor to keep from revealing how shaken he, too, had been, how eager he was for more.
“Was it everything you remembered?” he taunted.
She scowled up at him. “Oh, go to hell.”
“Now, that’s a fine way to greet an old neighbor.”
“The kiss was the greeting. The rest was regrets.”
He laughed at that. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She regarded him suspiciously. “You do?”
“I was kinda hoping I’d gotten it all wrong, too. Care to try again, just in case the first time was an accident?” The question had nothing to do with his bet with Cody and everything to do with his longing for further experimentation. He’d spent too many restless nights dreaming of having this woman back in his arms. The discovery that she still fit him like the other half of a carved piece of wood was too tempting to resist.
Lizzy shook her head as if to clear it. “No, please. Once was enough to prove the point.”
“Coward.”
“Me?” she protested. “If you thought the last kiss was all that great, where have you been for the past five years?”
He liked the disgruntled attitude and decided to spur it on. “Comparison shopping,” he said.
She frowned at that.
Hank clung to the tiny hint of jealousy. “According to your family, you haven’t exactly been living in a cocoon,” he accused, immediately proving that he was just as capable of envy. Every mention of a man in Lizzy’s life had set acid to churning in his gut, though until now he’d been good at hiding it.
“True.”
He studied her speculatively. “So, Miss Lizzy, what do we do now? Wait another five years before we try it again?”
She considered that, her expression thoughtful as her gaze locked with his. Heat sizzled in the air. Finally she shook her head. “Pick me up at six.”
Hank’s pulse kicked up like an unbroken horse at the touch of a saddle. “For?”
“I wish I knew,” she said with a sigh. “Trouble, more than likely.”
“Now, Miss Lizzy, I do like the sound of that,” he retorted.
“Don’t go getting any wild ideas, cowboy,” she said, and started to clamber back over the fence.
Hank wasn’t ready to see her go. Not yet, not even with the promise of a whole evening ahead of him. “Lizzy?”
“Yes?”
“If you’re not busy,” he said oh so casually, “why don’t you stick around?”
“Why?” she asked bluntly. “You need some help with this fence? Word is it was just fine before you started tampering with it.”
He winced at the direct hit, but pressed on. “Actually, I was hoping you’d join me for lunch. I brought a couple of extra sandwiches, just in case you happened by.”
Her expression brightened. “Ham and cheese?” she asked, eyeing his saddlebags with a gleam in her eyes.
“On Mrs. Wyndham’s home-baked pumpernickel bread,” he said, knowing she would find that—if not him—irresistible.
“Did you bring pickles, too?”
“A whole jar.”
She was pawing through the saddlebags in an instant. When she’d plucked the thick, foil-wrapped sandwiches from them, her face lit up.
“I’ve dreamed of Mrs. Wyndham’s sandwiches,” she admitted as she moved to a spot in the shade of a huge old cottonwood. “I’ve been in a lot of delis the past few years, but none of them has gotten it quite right. Your housekeeper ought to be declared a national treasure.”
“It’s the bread,” Hank said, taking a spot beside her and stretching his legs out in front of him. “I don’t know what she puts in it, but the taste can’t be matched.”
“How’d you remember that I loved these so much?”
If only she knew how many times he’d sifted through the memories of every moment they’d ever shared. After all, she’d trailed after him for years, pestering him with questions and as time passed and she grew into a woman, blistering him with looks hot enough to sizzle steak.
“I remember a lot of things,” he said quietly, his hat low so she couldn’t read his expression.
“Such as?”
He could pretend, as he had done so many times in the past, treat the question dismissively, or he could tell the truth. Maybe it was time for a little straightforward honesty between them.
“For one thing, the way your eyes light up with golden sparks when you take the first bite,” he said, tilting the hat back and keeping his gaze on her steady. “The way your tongue darts out to lick the mustard from your lips. The way you always save one bite as if you can’t quite bear to finish.”
She blinked and swallowed hard, but it was Hank who looked away first. If he started cataloging all the rest of the things he remembered about Lizzy, they’d waste the whole afternoon and his blood would be in a heated frenzy.
“How’s med school?” he asked, forcing a neutral tone into his voice. This was safer ground, turf that would remind him of all that stood between them still.
“Okay.”
“Still getting straight As?”
“Not this quarter,”