One Hot Cowboy by Anne Marsh

Maybe there’s a sting, but it’s over
    quick, and you move on.”
    Time seemed to slow down. That icy-
    hot sensation hit her, the feeling you got
    when you knew there was bad news
    coming and there was no way to stop it.
    “Auntie Dee left you this house,” he
    continued. “But she had a reverse mortgage
    on the place.”
    The pieces were falling into place, and
    she didn’t like the pattern. “You hold her
    note. How much?” She fought the
    temptation to close her eyes. There was no
    hiding from this.
    “Two hundred thousand dollars.”
    She didn’t have that kind of money, and
    if Cabe wanted that water, he wouldn’t
    want money anyhow. She was going to
    lose this place. She wasn’t coming home,
    not to stay. She’d be saying good-bye. To
    her heart and her home.
    “You should have said something.”
    Could he hear her heart breaking in the
    quiet surrounding them? Goddamn it, she
    wasn’t going to show him how this was
    tearing her up inside.
    He stared at her, and she couldn’t read
    his face. Of course, she never had been
    able to tell what he was thinking, had she?
    “I should have,” he admitted.
    Grabbing the tube of plans she’d brought
    with her for the contractor to review, she
    put some space between them and let her
    feet take her out into the yard.
    “Yes, you should have. Or maybe, Cabe,
    you should have said something before you
    took me to bed. Maybe I deserved to know
    exactly what I was dealing with here.”
    “You wanted me,” he said, and that
    calm, logical voice of his made her want to
    shriek. “This house doesn’t change that,
    Rose. You kissed me. You let me put my
    fingers and my tongue on that sweet little
    pussy of yours, and you liked it. Money
    owing doesn’t change that.”
    She’d heard he was ruthless. She’d
    known that his was the hard, predatory
    gaze of a man who knew what he wanted
    and took it. He’d wanted her, and she’d
    made it so very easy for him to take her.
    “Was I a pity fuck? I had no place to go,
    so you took me in because you felt sorry
    for me?”
    “It wasn’t like that, Rose.” It sounded to
    her as if it had been precisely like that.
    “Then tell me what it was like,” she
    demanded. “Make me understand that you
    didn’t fuck me two ways to Sunday, Cabe.”
    His silence was damning. That hat of his
    came off his head, slapping slowly,
    dangerously at his thigh. Cabe didn’t get
    mad quickly or often, but once he was
    worked up, a wise woman left him alone.
    “I did what I thought was best, darlin’.”
    “Don’t call me darling. Don’t call me
    anything. Just don’t, Cabe.”
    For the second time that week, she threw
    what she was holding at him. The tube of
    architectural drawings was an awkward
    length, but he caught it, just as she’d known
    he would. Cabe didn’t like loose ends, and
    he never left things to chance. She stomped
    to her car.
    Slamming the door of the Honda, she
    tore down the drive.

    She’d left him.
    Cabe had caught the roll of papers
    instinctively. Other older, more primitive
    instincts screamed for him to go after
    Rose. His ancestors had been Californians
    and Spanish aristos who knew how to rule.
    How to carve out and hold territory in a
    hostile, unfamiliar world. She was his.
    She’d let him touch her, and she’d enjoyed
    every moment.
    She was his, and he always held on to
    what was his.
    So letting her go now was the hardest
    damn thing he’d ever done. He wanted to
    go after her, take her into his arms, and
    make this all better. There was no getting
    around the fact, however, that he needed
    her water and had every intention of
    drilling just as soon as he could get the
    engineer back in here. He had a business to
    run. A ranch to preserve. Blackhawk
    Ranch was more than a legacy—it was a
    way of life. A hell of a lot of people
    depended on him. Cheap foreign beef had
    put most of the California ranches out of
    business, making it almost impossible for a
    man to even sell his cattle