Western Romance Collection: Rugged Cowboys Part 19

The eldest leans into the bed of the truck and then shifts a heavy-looking leather bag onto his shoulder, starts moving it toward the house.

"I mean it. You did right by us, I don't want you to think we're ungrateful."

Callahan grinds his teeth together but doesn't say anything. The boy's already doing what he's supposed to be doing. Now if he could do it without the pity and with his mouth shut, that would be an improvement.

The truth is, though, that deep down he likes hearing it. The idea that he could actually get past this.

"You know what you have to do the next couple of days?"

James turns. He's got one eyebrow c.o.c.ked up. "Yeah, more or less. Place needs a little work to be back in decent shape, so we'll be getting the stables and the fences repaired. That the long and short of it?"

"Sure."

"I got some unfinished business to take care of," Callahan says finally. "I'll be out for a week or so. Don't slack off while I'm gone, and don't let that d.a.m.n fool brother of yours anywhere near anything heavy."

"No, sir," James says. He tries to hide the smile as he turns away.

That kid was always too G.o.d d.a.m.n smart for his own good. Too smart and too involved in other peoples' business.

There's no way that Callahan can leave things with Morgan. Not the way that they were.

He was up late last night, after all. n.o.body to get him into bed or make him go. The d.a.m.n computer kept him up later than he'd wanted. Took near two hours to figure out how to get times for plane tickets.

Now that the boys are settled in, he's going to have to leave soon. The next plane leaves in a little more than three hours, and he's going to have to be in a d.a.m.n hurry if he wants to get through the security and be on it.

Chapter Forty-Six.

It's still hard to say whether or not it was worth it. The pain is still there. But hard decisions always hurt. And most of the time, in the end, no matter how much worrying you did about it, it's worth it.

That doesn't make it easier in the moment, though. That doesn't mean that sitting in your office feeling self-righteous keeps you warm at night. It doesn't mean that you can take it out to dinner and have a good time.

But in the end, when you do the right thing, you know you did the right thing, at least. It just takes time for the hurt to dull a little bit and for your head to clear.

Well, it had been enough time. She should be feeling better by now. But then again, she'd made hard decisions before, but it had rarely had such a personal effect.

Maybe this was just another growth period. Maybe she'd come out of this stronger, smarter, tougher than ever. The business would thank her. She'd thank herself. In the end, of course.

Right now, she couldn't see the forest for the trees. That was all it was. If she had a clear head, then she wouldn't be questioning her decision to leave without a word every morning, going to bed kicking herself because she couldn't see a single reason that it couldn't have worked except her fears and Andrea's warning.

She was a lonely old woman, and as tough as nails, and all the money in the world didn't change that. It wasn't exactly reflective of the life that the Morgan wanted to lead, having a long line of eighteen-year-old cabana boys who were f.u.c.king the maid on the side.

But that was the life that Andrea Neill lead and it was the life she was, apparently, happy with.

Maybe she didn't know what the f.u.c.k she was talking about. Then again, maybe she did. Morgan had to keep reminding herself of that. She had to, because if she didn't, then she'd be heading back to Wyoming right then and there.

If that was the right decision in the beginning, she was an idiot for having left. And if leaving was the right decision, then she was an idiot for thinking about going back now. Either way, she'd made her bed, and she had to lie in it.

Which just circled back around to the problem, the one that she'd been dancing around for two weeks now: how to get comfortable with the fact that she already made her decision, and now she's not happy with the result.

She can't go back. She can't decide to have stayed in Wyoming sixteen days later. That's not how life works. You make decisions, you accept the consequences of your decisions. It's simple, it's straightforward, and it's painful for everyone. She's not special in that regard.

She takes a deep breath, checks her phone to see the time. There's an hour until she's supposed to make her next report. There's not a whole lot to report. Sales numbers are up, but it's nothing to celebrate. Growth was slowing, and now they're back on course.

The new factories are getting into things on par with expectations. That's been everything on the business side. Every single thing was 'on par with expectations.'

Well, that was wonderful for the business side of things, because on the personal side of things, nothing was going nearly so well.

But that wasn't going to affect her work, because she wasn't going to let it, no matter how bad she might have wanted to. That would be completely unacceptable. That would be exactly what she'd left Wyoming to try and avoid. And then what a fool she'd look like.

She answers a knock at the door by reflexively calling out to come in, without looking up.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

Brad Lang's got his hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched. He looks decidedly unlike the overconfident son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h that he'd been up north. Maybe he figured that taking a week-long vacation hadn't gone unnoticed after all.

"Take a seat," she says. Her voice is even, and to her great pleasure it doesn't sound remotely one bit like she's upset, which makes her a d.a.m.n fine actor if she might say so herself.

He takes it without a word.

"You know what you did."

"Yes ma'am."

"And you know I can't just look the other way."

"No, ma'am."

"Good luck in your future endeavors, Mr. Lang. You'll get your severance in the mail, and I'd like your office cleaned out by the end of the day."

He looks like he wants to say something, a little glowing ember of something that might be anger. Then he snuffs it out.

"Yes ma'am."

"Go on," she says, nodding towards the door. He stands up and sulks out.

For a minute she's almost sad that she doesn't feel any special satisfaction at seeing him go. He'd been a good employee for her father. It was rare to see a man that young in the position he was in.

At least, that was true in Lowe Industrial. Most of the higher-ups were old hands, people who had been working for her father since they were her age and had practically built the place from the ground up with their own two hands.

The office door opens and Lang steps out, slipping sideways through the door. For a minute, Morgan's almost confused, until she sees him slipping in at the same time.

"What are you doing here?" She shouldn't sound like such a b.i.t.c.h, not right now. Not with him.

"I came to see you."

She takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. Tries to stop her stomach from twisting up and her skin from jumping immediately to over-sensitivity.

"How's the ranch?"

Phil Callahan looks the same as he always has. Jeans and a t-shirt and all of it looks like he just finished a wrestling match in it.

"New. Different. The boys are patching her up."

"Yeah?"

"Sure." The silence between them is long. Part of her wants to apologize. Part of her wants to seem like she's not some needy little woman who can't bear to be disliked, though, and that part keeps her lips shut. "You know, about that tour. This place seems a little more complete than the last one I was inside of."

She can't bring herself to smile at the joke. "You didn't have to do this, you know."

He steps inside further, closes the door behind him. It seems like it's only another step or two until he's right there, in her s.p.a.ce. Until he's standing over her, looking down at her.

She should feel small, she should hate it. She should feel so many things, and she doesn't feel any of that. Her head leans forward in a moment of weakness and her head presses into his chest. It feels good.

His arms wrap around her shoulders and squeeze tight. That feels good, too. "But I wanted to anyways."

She can't do this, but she can't say no again.

"I'm sorry," she says. She's supposed to be strong. She's supposed to be so tough n.o.body can say a d.a.m.n thing about her. Her voice sounds weak and afraid and it's not half as bad as she feels.

"You don't have to apologize. Just don't run away again."

Her eyes feel hot, but her arms wrap around his thick chest. "No," she agrees.

She can't hurt like that again.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Cowboy's Bride Historical Western Romance Amy Faye Published by Heartthrob Publishing If you want news about new novel releases, you can sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/cmQY05

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"You like what you see?"

Glen closed his eyes, tried to collect himself. He was acting like a teenager. Then, slowly, he nodded. Swallowed hard and tried to get hold of himself again.

Instead he heard clothes fall to the floor, and he felt her start to work his belt. His pulse started pounding in his ears. He had to control himself. He couldn't go off doing anything too crazy. She hadn't remotely signed up for what his body was telling him to do.

His pants came undone, and they joined her dress on the floor. Catherine enjoyed the sight of his c.o.c.k, pressed out against the fabric of his boxers, and she traced a line around it.

It was a good size, long and thick. She pulled it out and wrapped her fingers around it, moving up and down the length slowly. She could see from his face that Glen was needing a little encouragement from her.

He didn't know about her past, and if she was very lucky he would never need to, but now it was going to provide some very helpful benefits. She kissed the tip softly, still moving her hand, and then used her tongue to swirl around the head. Glen shuddered.

"Jesus Christ, that feels good."

Catherine let her lips open, took a little more of him inside her mouth. She was enjoying this more than she wanted to admit to herself. The feeling of control over him, seeing how badly he wanted her to continue. How much he needed her. It was one of the best feelings in the world.

She could feel him coming closer and closer to the edge as she took him in her mouth. She could let him, if she wanted to. It wouldn't be so bad at all. But then that would be the end of it, and G.o.d-she hated to admit it, but she wanted more than that.

She pulled herself away, almost hearing the disappointment in his labored breathing. He wasn't disappointed for long. When she laid on her back, spread her knees a little, and held out a hand, he realized exactly what was going on.

He lined himself up between her thighs, rubbing the head up and down her moist slit before settling in and pressing against her. She was tight, tighter than he had expected. It almost hurt to get in.

Catherine gasped at the feeling of the intrusion. She had worried, what if she was ruined after all those favors she'd paid back for Billy. What if she wasn't going to be good for another man?

The first thrust told her that wasn't much of a concern. He started to move after a moment, and she could feel him moving in her, sc.r.a.ping her insides with his c.o.c.k, stretching her out until she was about to explode.

He had a grip on her hips, using it to pull into her harder, stronger. Every thrust seemed to hit in just the right place, so she saw stars in her eyes. Every one of them. As she felt his thrusts starting to come faster, more erratic, she knew what was going to come next.

"Catherine," he breathed, his voice strained and hoa.r.s.e. "I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," she answered. "Go ahead."

She wanted him to. She was so close, she could already feel it. If he just kept going a few more seconds, gave her just another minute of pleasure, then she would be able to finish. She felt him push inside her, harder than the last time, and her vision went white as every muscle in her body started to tense.

She felt him spasming inside her, felt the hot warmth fill her up. A feeling that she hadn't wanted to admit how much she missed.

After he'd spent himself inside her, Glen rolled off, laid down in the bed next to her. After a moment he leaned over and took a kiss from her lips.

One.

Catherine could see the discomfort playing out across the man's handsome features. She would have felt bad for him, maybe, if someone else were in her shoes, or if someone else were in his. A knock at the door had been a welcome surprise. Perhaps the Sheriff had finally decided to get off his a.s.s and come out to deal with the cattle rustling.

Instead, Glen Riley was sitting on her sofa, the kids sent off to their room while she heard him explain to her why it was that he said she should get out of her own house. So the embarra.s.sment of his situation must have been unpleasant, but not half as bad as what she was going to make him feel if the story wasn't good.