Do You Take This Cowboy?. Vicki Lewis ThompsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
She looked and sure enough, a green-and-brown ATV was sitting there. She’d been so focused on his handsome self she hadn’t noticed it. “The back twenty? I’ve only heard people refer to the back forty.”
“They do.” He started walking toward the ATV. “But this ranch isn’t that big so we have the back twenty. We joke about it, but I have great memories of the place. It’s where we used to camp out when we were kids. Or I should say, when I was a kid and was allowed to tag along with the big guys. I came here when I was nine. Everybody else was a teenager.”
“And so they called you Junior.”
“Mostly Cade.” He stopped next to the ATV and turned to her with another one of his endearing smiles. “I don’t mind it as much as he thinks I do. I did back then, but now...now I think he says it because he likes me.”
“I’m pretty sure he likes you.” She wondered if Austin had any idea how appealing he was. “Cade strikes me as the kind of guy who only teases people he likes.”
He nodded. “These days, probably so. But you should have heard the way he said Junior years ago when I used to bug him to death. I followed him everywhere. Looking back on it, I wonder why he didn’t deck me. I’ll bet he wanted to but I was a lot smaller and he’d never have beat up on someone smaller.”
“Then he must like you, because you’ve grown enough for him to beat up on if he wanted to.”
“Guess so.” He laughed. “Come to think of it, yesterday he said now I was too big to mess with, especially since he’s hit thirty and is losing muscle mass.”
“So if he’s thirty, how old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Huh.” She decided to go for full disclosure and get it over with. “How do you feel about having a cookout with an older woman?”
“I don’t care how old you are.”
“For the record, I’m twenty-eight.”
He shrugged. “Two years is nothing.” He turned toward the ATV, but then swung back to her. “Unless you’re not happy about going out with a younger guy. Some ladies would rather date someone older than they are. I’ve run into a few of those.”
Silly women. “I’m not one of them.”
“Good to know.” He swung one long leg over the ATV. “Climb on behind me and we’ll get this show started. Oh, and hold on tight. I won’t be going fast but we’ll hit some bumps along the way. Can’t help it. The rain’s done a number on the road.”
She needed no encouragement to wrap both arms around his solid torso and scoot against his firm backside. Riding on the back of an ATV with Austin immediately became her favorite outdoor activity. What a great excuse to get up close and personal with a guy who not only looked good but felt even better.
The ride ended long before she was ready to let go of him. He pulled into a clearing with a boundary marked by rocks spaced a few inches apart. Beyond them the brush, mostly sage, grew three to four feet high.
But now they’d stopped and she felt obliged to climb off, darn it. She had a nice buzz going and she had the crazy urge to ask if that had been as good for him as it had been for her.
When he just sat there while he took a couple of deep breaths, she had a feeling it had been.
“Lordy.” His low chuckle was followed by a long sigh. “Maybe I should have taken you to a restaurant in town, after all.”
“Oh?”
“I knew I was attracted to you, but I thought I could manage a short ATV ride. Turns out it affected me more than I thought it would.” He climbed off the four-wheeler and faced her. “But everything’s under control now.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I promise you’re safe with me.”
She met his gaze. “If it makes you feel any better, the drive turned me on, too.”
Heat flared in his eyes.
She felt obliged to add one more fact. “But we just met.”
“Only hours ago.”
“At this point it wouldn’t be about you and me as individuals with histories and personality quirks. It would be like strangers scratching an itch. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I—”
“I didn’t invite you out here to scratch an itch. I’m past that stage in my life.”
“Good. So am I. Come to think of it, I never went through that stage.” She noticed a folded blanket on top of a metal ice chest but that was probably so they’d have a place to sit. “I’ve always wanted to get to know someone first.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s good we’re agreed on that.” Definitely good. Maybe. Except he wasn’t some guy she’d met in a bar. She knew his foster family. She knew he’d been to New Zealand. She knew he could fix a clogged sink. “I see you’ve toted everything out here already, so let’s have our meal and swap stories.”
“That was my plan.” He gestured toward the campsite he’d set up. “Welcome to our dining room. That little fire pit is strictly for ambiance. I’m using the Coleman stove to make dinner. Cooking over a campfire gives you lots of atmosphere but it can also give you undercooked or overcooked food.”
“A Coleman stove sounds fine. I have one myself.”
“You do? I thought you didn’t cook.”
“I don’t when I have alternatives, but I camp out quite a bit when I’m shooting nature videos. I love my coffee in the morning and scrambled eggs are nice to go with it. What can I do to help?”
“The cooking’s my deal, but you can light the campfire if you want. I left some matches next to it.”
“Looks like you thought of everything.” She walked over and crouched next to the fire pit where he’d arranged kindling and a couple of larger logs. Extra wood was stacked nearby. She recognized a fire laid by someone who knew what he was doing and sure enough, it caught with one match. “Done.”
“Then all you have to do is keep an eye on it and add a log if you think it needs one. You can have a seat on the blanket and I’ll get you something to drink.”
“I won’t object to that.” She found a good spot for the blanket, folded it so two could fit and sat down. The clearing had been raked recently but she’d guess the rocks defining the perimeter had been there for years.
“You know what?” He opened the ice chest. “I should have asked you about the wine instead of making an assumption because you’re Italian.”
“You brought Chianti.”
“No, I brought a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.” He held it up. “The assumption was that you were a wine drinker. Like I said, I should have asked.”
“I am a wine drinker and I’m glad it’s not Chianti. I can have that anytime just by walking in the back door of Martinelli’s and asking for a glass.”
“All righty, then.” He twisted off the screw top. “It was going to be this or water. I didn’t bring anything else to drink.” He took out two chilled glasses and handed her one. “I had this when I was over there and really liked it.” He poured them each some wine.
“I’m sure I will, too.” She lifted her glass in his direction. “Here’s to adventure.”
“To adventure.” He tapped his glass to hers. “That’s a good thing to toast.”
“I haven’t had nearly as much adventure as you, I’m afraid.” She took a slow sip. “Nice wine.”
“Then I lucked out. Here’s hoping the meal works for you, too.”