The Cowboy's Make Believe Bride Read online

  “No one here has ever made me bread except Ma. They haven't made me anything.” He sat on the edge of the tailgate and leaned against the side of the truck.

  “Did anyone know you liked banana bread?” She ripped off a chunk and crammed it in her mouth. “Om, my, fiss is oh ood.” She pulled off another section.

  “I never told anyone, if that's what you mean. It just never came up.”

  She raised a finger to give her a moment and then finally said, “You're a great listener. Always have been. Probably what makes you a great deputy. But you're a crappy sharer.”

  “I shared my bread.”

  She kicked the side of his leg that was closest to her. “You know what I mean. It's easier to take a punch in the face than get you to talk.”

  He smirked, then reached for the bread. She pushed it to him.

  “I don't have anything to say,” he mumbled.

  Cori snorted. “You can't see me right now, but I just rolled my eyes,” she said. “Everyone has something to say. Everyone wants to be heard.”

  Fort grunted.

  “It’s true. If an animal comes down from the mountains and attacks livestock, he's telling us something. Maybe he's sick. Maybe it's a drought. What if he's been kicked out from his pack? When a coyote howls, he's sending a message. And, if by chance, you really do have aliens taking cattle—and I really hope you do and I get the photo of it—then the aliens are saying something, too.” She giggled and reached for the bread, but Fort caught her hand, wrapping his around hers.

  And just like earlier today, heat shot up his arm. It had been impulsive to take Cori's hand this morning, but she looked so scared, desperate for a friend, and he wanted to make that go away. He meant to grab her elbow or wrist but somehow his hand had slid into hers and he didn't second-guess it.

  “What do you mean about cattle missing?”

  “Cricket said a rancher wants her to run a story about how aliens are taking his cattle.” She tugged her hand free.

  “Hang on, I have a lot of questions here. First, how do you know Cricket?”

  “I met her earlier. Funny story that. Looks like I'm the new photographer for the Critten County Rambler. Look how excited I am by that.” She pointed to her face-splitting smile. It was so bright he didn't need the street lamps to see it.

  “No. That's breaking a rule,” he said with bite, hoping she could infer how adamant he was about her taking the job.

  “Ha!” She poked him with her boot. “You broke a rule earlier when you took my hand. That, my friend, was an out and out disregard for the rules. The rules, I'd like to remind you, that were your idea.”

  “You looked sad,” he said.

  Cori sat up. “Oh, I can't believe you just said that. Are you telling me that you took my hand out of pity? A pity hand hold?” She tossed her hands in the air. “That's a low even for me. Most people get a pity screw, not me. I get my hand held.” She slid out of the truck, snatching the bread as she went.

  He lurched forward and grabbed her about the waist, pulling her back into the truck bed and onto his lap, the bread landing beside them. An explosion of sexual desire burst from his crotch like a million-watt Q-beam and lit him up. Like he'd been doing most of the day, he chalked it up to having not gotten laid in a long time. There was no chance Cori's tiny, bony ass was making him want to toss her onto her back and delve deep inside her. This talk about a pity screw didn't help. Now that image was burned into his brain.

  “Sit still,” he ground out and grabbed her hips.

  “Why, so you can give me some more pity?” She wiggled again.

  Yeah, if that's what she wanted to call it. He'd pity her all night long and some in the morning, too.

  “I did not grab your hand from pity,” he said and loosened his grip when she paused her wiggling. “It was an act of....” He thought about the word he was about to use. About how it might be true, but not entirely…yet.

  “It was an act of pity!” She struggled to get away from him, her butt rubbing against him again.

  He groaned with need and tossed her beside him. “I was going to say friendship.”

  She was scurrying to get away but suddenly went still. She looked at him over her shoulder. “But you didn't.”

  “I'm not sure I'm ready to call us friends, yet. But we're getting there. I just have to accept that you're going to be the most annoying friend I'll ever have.” He smiled and hoped she could see it.

  “Not there yet, huh?” She moved back to sit next to him.

  “No, but close.” He elbowed her.

  “Ow!” Cori said, and then laughed as she pretended to fall over from the force of the nudge. “Friends don't hurt friends.”

  “I said almost friends.” He picked up the bread and opened the foil. After breaking off a chunk, he offered her more.

  “But we're good. We can acknowledge you broke rule number one, and we've survived, so me breaking rule number two is no biggie.”

  “I don't know about this. What—”

  “Think of it this way. It's not so much as breaking a rule, but an opportunity to help you figure out what Deke and Witty are up to. Working for the paper, I can get inside information. I can be around Witty without suspicion.”

  “Like the aliens,” he said.

  “Well, sure. That's not a true story, though. There are no aliens, much to my sadness. I could use the big break.” She finished off the bread and, after taking the foil from his hand, balled it up.

  “There aren't aliens, but there seems to be cattle missing more each day. Ma called today to tell me they found three more head missing.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Mrs. Z said she's missing one as well. Did Cricket happen to mention who thinks aliens have visited?”

  “Yes—”

  “Phillips, right? I don't know why I asked.” He slid from the tailgate. “Come on,” he said, pulling her by the ankles to the edge. “Let's take a ride.”

  Inside the truck he tucked his gun and holster under his seat.

  While buckling her seatbelt, Cori said, “I hope we didn't jinx anything with us getting along here a moment ago and you almost being my friend.”

  “It doesn't mean you can finish off my bread like you just did,” he teased.

  Cori, ever sensitive to being the reason anyone might feel slighted, sat ramrod straight. “You only have that bread because of me and what I said at the diner. Not so much as a thanks from you. Not that I'm surprised, considering how stubborn you are and your natural tendencies to be an ass.” She turned her back to him.

  Fort chuckled. “And now we're back to being snarky.”

  She clapped her hands together in pleasure and laughed. “We are good at snark. So, where are we going? Do we have a second mystery?”

  He settled back in the seat before peeling out of the parking lot. “If I have a natural tendency to be an ass, you have one to be a constant pest.”

  “I'll accept that,” she said, “because you said it so nicely. Are we trying to solve the mystery of the missing cows?”

  He grunted his agreement and then asked, “What's the first mystery?”

  “The mystery of the man with a bogus name. Conway Witty. It's like he's asking to be caught. With the cows, how do you know it’s not nature or an animal? The earth is pretty dry. I'm guessing it's a problem for not just the ranchers.”

  “No carcasses.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.” She tapped her index finger to her lips.

  They rode in silence until Fort pulled onto a dirt road and parked a mile down. “We're going to walk from here. In the glove box is a flashlight.” He cut the engine, fumbled under his seat for his sidearm, and then jumped out of the truck before she had the large Maglite in hand. Outside, he hopped onto the truck bed and opened the toolbox, using only the glow of the truck's interior light as his guide.

  “You still know how to shoot?” he asked, jumping down.

  “Do dogs like to hump human legs?”

  “Grab the s
hotgun from the truck. There are shells under the passenger seat. Ease the door closed when you're done.”

  She did as he asked, hanging the shotgun from her shoulder by its strap, extra shells in her pants pocket. “Crap on a cracker, its dark out here. I can't even see you.” When Fort touched her shoulder from behind, she jumped but didn't squeal.

  “Mrs. Z complained of some kids near the tracks the other day and also mentioned her missing cows. When I looked, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but the more I think about it, I didn't see the typical either.”

  “That being?” She turned and leaned toward him.

  “You can turn on your flashlight. Keep the beam close, though.”

  She did as he said, and when the beam broke between them, there was little else in the space, she was that close. She stepped back.

  “The typical for teens might be some beer or booze bottles and a fire. Thank God whoever was out there had the good sense to not start a fire, but there was no sign of a party. Just cigarette butts.” He slipped on a headlamp then flicked on the red beam. “What's odd is there aren't any footprints or tire tracks in the area where these animals go missing. Our animals are tagged with a GPS system. The ones that have gone missing still show like they're with the herd. It’s bizarre.”

  Cori held the light beneath her chin. “It's not aliens. It's a ghost. You're being haunted by cattle.”

  “Come on, smart ass, we're going to walk out there and see if we can stumble upon anything.” He set the GPS locator on his phone and hers, then showed it to Cori in case they got separated or lost.

  With the light still under her chin, she narrowed her eyes. “You have your gun on you, right?”

  “Of course.” He flashed the light on his under-the-shoulder holster.

  “Then take the lead.”

  They walked in silence. A couple of times he heard her stumble and catch herself by putting her hand on his back. Every time she did, he experienced a zinger of a shock that spread across his back and straight to his dick.

  He definitely needed more time with women if Shorty, The Annoying, was charging him up. Which didn't make sense. She'd been correct in saying she wasn't his type. For starters, he liked a little meat on his women. Shorty was a stick. A cute twig. He found her energy contagious, as was her smile.

  They walked along the railroad tracks for over a mile, and Fort's gut told him they weren't going to find anything tonight. That's when the idea struck him.

  He stopped short and Cori ran smack into his back.

  “Shush,” he whispered and hunched down.

  She squatted behind him, her breath on his ear. “What is it?” she whispered.

  “Do you see that light? Way off in the distance there?” He pointed down the line of the tracks.

  She gripped his shoulder. “Is it a train?”

  “Can't be. No train comes through this late.” It was a train. A hauler that the town called the midnight crawler due to its slow pace. Often it would stop for a spell. Fort reckoned that's what it was doing now, it's light a hazy glow far away.

  “It doesn't look like a fire. What do you think it is?”

  He could feel her small breasts pressed into his back, and he briefly lost his train of thought. “I don't know what it is. I mean, it can't be what I think it is. That's impossible.”

  She stood up. “Maybe we should go?” She tugged at the back of his shirt.

  “Come on, you're not scared, are you? It's not like there is such a thing as a cow ghost anyway.”

  Cori squeaked. “You think it's a ghost?”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” He faced her and nearly laughed at her large owl look.

  “Don't be silly. It could be anything like....okay, I think it could be anything, including aliens or a ghost or an alien ghost even. I don't rule anything out. Let's go back.” She stepped away and pulled his upper arm, coaxing him to follow.

  He looked over his shoulder, then glanced at his watch. Almost one. The Crawler might start moving soon. “Okay, we'll head back. I don't want you to be scared.”

  “The hell, you say. I'm not scared. I'm terrified.” She turned and started hoofing it down the path they'd come, her light swinging quickly.

  “Wait up,” he said. “Let's be reasonable. There has to be a perfectly good explanation.”

  “Yeah, like a train, but you said there aren't any trains.” She was practically running, her words coming in a pant.

  Fort looked over his shoulder and saw the light moving toward them, albeit slowly. “Holy shit.” He feigned panic.

  “What?” she screeched.

  “It's moving!” He almost laughed and gave away the game.

  She stopped short and spun around. “Sweet Jesus,” she cried. She grabbed his shirt and screamed, “Run!”

  A second later, she was off like a lightning bolt, her light swinging madly around her, mumbling what sounded like a prayer as she ran. She was like a maniac, a confused rabbit darting between the tracks and the grass on the side. She was going to get hurt.

  “Cori, wait! I'm joking,” he called. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the train was moving faster than he thought. The night was hazy, which made the train light look eerier than normal. No wonder she'd been spooked. He dashed off behind her, surprised at how fast and far those short sticks of legs took her.

  “Turn here,” he cried as she came to the path for the truck.

  She made the sharp left turn without losing speed.

  Impressive.

  He caught up with her right as they broke into the clearing where he'd parked the truck. Right as the train came roaring closer and became obvious what the light was.

  Cori spun on him as fast as she'd taken off, her chest heaving from exertion. “You asshole,” she cried, lunging at him. “How could you do that to me?”

  He did a quick sidestep. “I tried to tell you, but you were running so fast you couldn't hear me with all that wind whipping past your head.” He cracked, and a laugh escaped him. “Damn, girl, you can run.” He smothered another laugh and turned his back to her so she couldn't see. His shoulders shook.

  “You think this is funny?” she yelled.

  Next thing he knew, she was on his back like a monkey, legs wrapped around his waist, arm around his neck in a mock chokehold. “I should clock you with this flashlight.” She wiggled on his back.

  “What are you doing?” He reached back, trying to swipe her off.

  “I'm trying to wrestle you to the ground.”

  He dropped to his knees and did a quick jerk to the side, effectively tossing her to the ground. “No such luck, short stuff.”

  How she retained her grip on the flashlight was anyone’s guess, but she shone it directly in his eyes, blinding him. “Apologize.”

  “No way, it was kinda funny until I thought you might go off the path and get lost.” He blocked the light, but she angled it, keeping the beam in his eyes.

  “Come on with that,” he said, lunging for the light.

  He fell on top of her and trapped her hand with his, wrestling the light from her grip and tossing it aside when he got it. “See how it feels!” He shone his headlamp on her.

  Her short hair was wispy around her face, her cheeks pink from her run, her skin dewy, her glasses askew, and he was entranced. When had Cori Walters become such a beauty? She might be the size of a large child, but she was most certainly not one. His hand found her breast and cupped it. What was the saying, “More than a handful was a waste”? There was nothing wasteful on Cori. Without further thought or hesitation he kissed her.

  It started out a soft, nudging sort of kiss that asked the question, would she invite him in?

  Her lips were soft, just like she was. And “welcome” was her answer.

  He saw her acceptance as a gift, a chance to know her on a level he never considered. She smelled like vanilla, and when he dipped his tongue into her mouth, she tasted like bananas. He wanted more. One kiss led to another, and all F
ort knew was that he wanted to learn more about her, preferably with their clothes off.

  She slid her legs up, one on each side of him so that he fit snugly between her. Much like last night, even at odd ends, they lined up.

  The train roared by, rumbling the ground, and they matched the tempo. Gentle, exploring kisses became hungry ones. She ripped his headlamp off, letting it fall to the side. His hands never leaving her, he ran them up her body and wrapped his arms around her. She trapped him with her legs, her hands in his hair. Fort flipped them over so he was lying on the cold, damp ground and she was straddling him. She sat back to look down at him. He slid her glasses from her face and dropped them over his head.

  “We shouldn't do this. What's wrong with us?” Where her hands rested on his chest, heat ran into his body. He moved his hands up her legs.

  “I'm only doing it because I'm still hungry and you taste like the banana bread you finished off.”

  “If it wasn't for that...” She gasped when he spread his hands around her waist, his thumbs stroking her ribs.

  “I'd find this completely disgusting,” he said, moving his hands farther up.

  “Totally gross,” she murmured. When he grazed her breast, her head fell back, a deep sigh of pleasure escaping her. He desperately wanted to hear it again. He cupped her, exploring her nipples with his thumbs. This time she moaned, grinding her pelvis into him.

  “Christ,” he said and sat up. He took her chin in one hand and brought his mouth down hard against hers.

  “This doesn't mean I like you,” she said when they separated for air.

  “I kinda think it does,” he replied.

  “Then it means you like me, too,” she responded.

  He leaned away from her, far enough that he felt the magic bubble around them pop. Not that he wouldn't lay her on the ground right now and do everything in his power to make her howl like the coyotes. He got stiff imagining it, and he was pretty hard already. Stiffer was inconceivable. Yet here he was, practically bursting from his pants, his hands cupping her tight ass, and her so willing. And he was about to jack it up like the idiot he was. “Maybe this is a moment. A mood. I dare any two people with a modicum of attraction to come out here and not get swept away.”