Cowboy Redeemed Read online

  Gavin frowned. He leaned forward, his forearms resting against the desk. “She’s a hustler?”

  “No. Her skill was obvious from the start.” After learning of her past, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know where she’d acquired such expertise. “She was picking ’em up and knocking ’em down as fast as they’d let her. Plus, from what I saw, the bets were small. The dumbasses made a game of trying to be the first to beat her.”

  “Then what’s the issue? Sounds like a lady enjoying a Saturday night, right? She wouldn’t be the first one to bet on pool at Slick’s. Or the last to take money from drunk cowboys. You thinkin’ there’s more to it than that?”

  Unease settled heavy on his chest. He worried things were much worse for Ainsley than he suspected. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

  Maybe Gavin was right. He was probably making a bigger deal out of it than he should. God, he was tired.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  Clay had an idea brewing, a plan which had occurred to him as he watched Ainsley sleep. Before he was ready to share, a little recon of Ainsley’s ranch was in order. If he was wrong, there’d be no harm done. But if he was right, he would kill two birds with one stone.

  He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Just ten minutes.

  “Lemme get back to you on that.”

  ***

  Ainsley woke to the sun shining through her bedroom window.

  She rolled and pressed her nose into the pillow beside her. The scent of sex and man lingered within the fibers of the sheets.

  The man had gone—with a promise to see her later—but the memory of him lingered on her skin, in every aching muscle of her body.

  Sleeping with Clay … yeah, there was an activity she wouldn’t mind repeating. Curled around his massive warmth, she’d slipped into the sleep of the dead.

  She wouldn’t mind revisiting the other stuff too. Not that he’d left her wanting. She’d lost count of the orgasms he’d given her. Lost count of the number of times they’d had sex too, although the last time had been not so long ago.

  Ainsley touched her lips. They were sensitive and swollen from Clay’s attention. He seemed to enjoy kissing her. He was damn good at it. And his tongue … his wicked, adventurous tongue…

  Ainsley groaned. She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling.

  Her mouth hadn’t been the only place to receive his lip service. Her cheeks flamed as she remembered all the places he’d touched, all the things they’d done. She ran a hand over her naked breasts. She chuckled at the thought her nipples must be exhausted, since they made no attempt to respond. Apparently, the wanton bitches preferred Clay’s touch. She moved lower, gently testing her aches. She flattened her fingers and pressed against the folds of her sex. Tender. Deliciously so.

  Clay made her past sexual encounters feel like failed attempts at best. He brought out the passionate woman inside her. He didn’t ask. He demanded, accepting nothing less than everything she had to give. He wouldn’t let her hide behind the insecurities that plagued her after their first time—was he disappointed with her small breasts? Were her hips too wide? Had she screamed too loud? Jesus, had she scratched him?

  He’d spent the rest of the night proving she had nothing to worry about.

  She’d never experienced anything close to the level of satisfaction she’d found in Clay’s arms.

  And it made her nervous as hell.

  He hadn’t just rocked her world last night. He’d picked it up, spun it around, and put it back wrong-side up. She was out of sorts. Off balance. Her brain shrouded in lust-fog. All viable reasons to explain her uncharacteristic desire to wrap up in the pillowcase Clay used in order to keep his scent close.

  Ainsley forced herself from the bed, already dreading the mess awaiting her in the kitchen from dinner last night. She made quick work of her morning routine, dressed in her usual attire—tank top and shorts—and headed downstairs.

  God, she hated the hormonal crap that went along with being a woman.

  She’d known Clay for all of a day. One day!

  She’d bet he wasn’t sitting around, daydreaming about her and wanting to keep her scent close.

  The whole thing was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

  They’d shared a meal. Had mind-blowing sex. Making more of the situation wouldn’t be good for either of them.

  Ainsley went straight for the coffee pot. She rinsed the carafe and set it in the sink to fill. She shivered, chill bumps breaking out all over her arms. She glanced out the window. The sun had risen high enough to indicate she’d overslept.

  The sun.

  Wait a minute.

  She whirled around, her gaze finding the clock on the wall. After nine? Why the hell wasn’t it ninety degrees in the house?

  Everything hit her at once.

  The chill in the air. The single piece of paper on the counter. The table, clean. Not a dirty dish in sight. That’s when she realized the dishwasher was running.

  Clay.

  Stunned, but smiling, Ainsley picked up the piece of paper and read:

  Ainsley,

  Your air conditioner should be running smoothly now. The coil had frozen up, I suspect from trying to keep up with the heat. Easy fix, and should save money now that it won’t have to work so hard.

  We could do the same payment plan as with the porch, but the A/C was a lot less work. That said, I’ll pick up a pizza, and you can provide the dessert—same as last night, I hope. I find I’ve become addicted to your taste.

  Call me if tonight isn’t good for you, and we’ll figure out something else. We’ve definitely gotten started now, Ains. Don’t for a minute believe otherwise.

  Clay

  Ainsley smoothed a finger over the seven digit number he’d written below his name. He’d fixed her air conditioner. Was he being helpful, or was he getting a jump on repairs, thinking his family would own the place soon?

  After last night, she hated feeling suspicious. He deserved better than that. She liked him. She really did. Clay seemed the kind of man a woman could count on. Trustworthy and hardworking. With her knowledge of business and Clay’s ranching experience, they’d make a helluva good team. Not to mention he had a strength she admired and a passion to rival her own.

  Which was the problem.

  We’ve definitely gotten started now, Ains.

  What had they started? And would her heart survive intact?

  She was still pondering those questions later in the afternoon when Clay drove up, pulling a horse trailer behind his truck.

  Her heart skipped double time as he approached the garden, where she’d been working the last few hours. He’d traded his cowboy hat for a ball cap pulled low, casting a dangerous shadow over his face. His navy-colored T-shirt and faded jeans hugged his muscles as he walked, reminding her of the powerful way he’d moved between her thighs.

  Ainsley stood and brushed off her legs. “I didn’t expect you so soon,” she told him as he reached her. “And I don’t see any pizza.”

  He kissed her hard and fast. “Have I told you how much I like your mouth?”

  “I kinda dig yours too, cowboy.” Ainsley stretched to her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands rested on her hips. She placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Then another. On the third pass, his lips opened in invitation. She forgot all about her earlier worry as his tongue met hers. Clay seemed willing to let her control the kiss, his hold showing no signs of urgency as she took her taste and eased back.

  He smiled down at her. Sweet Jesus, the man had dimples. “Are you too busy to run away with me?”

  “Hmm. What’cha got in mind?” The bedroom had her vote. She’d spent a good part of her afternoon thinking about the things he’d done to her body—as well as the things she’d yet to do with his. Her skin practically vibrated with anticipation.

  “I thought we’d take a little ride.”

  Her body caught the innuendo and held on tight. “That
sounds like a great plan.”

  “I know that look, Ains. As much as I like where your head is at, I had a different kind of ride in mind for this afternoon.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Deadly. When was the last time you rode this land? Checked things over yourself?”

  “I’ve got a crew to handle that.” The handful of men who’d stayed with her remained loyal. She suspected they resented her being a woman, but so far they hadn’t given her any trouble.

  “As does Shadow Maverick. That doesn’t mean I sit on the sidelines and hope everything goes okay.”

  “I don’t just sit around twiddling my thumbs, you know.”

  “Don’t get your hackles up, Ains. I know you don’t. You’re the one who said you didn’t know all you needed to, so here’s your first lesson from the Clayton Mathis school of ranchin’. Know what you’ve got to work with. The best way to do that is to see for yourself. We could take the truck, but I thought it would be fun to ride, since the temps aren’t scorching today. Even packed us a picnic. Romantic, right?”

  If Ainsley hadn’t promised herself she’d put a lid on her suspicions, she might’ve thought he looked guilty just then.

  “You brought horses with you?”

  He took her hand and walked her toward the trailer. “One horse. Mine. I call him Whiskey, but I’ll tell you, I shoulda named him Satan. Bastard gets down right ornery when he doesn’t get enough exercise. You’ve got a horse you can ride, don’t you? Wait. Do you know how to ride? I guess I should’ve asked that sooner, huh?”

  “I can ride. In fact, I’d love the opportunity to stretch my riding legs. I’ve got two horses left in the barn. Timber and Sapphire. Timber is older, I think. Not much fazes him that I can tell. I’m still learning. Books can teach the steps to saddling a horse, but learning to ride is another story. I’d like to try out Sapphire, but she’s too spirited for me yet.”

  Ainsley hoped Clay missed her slip about the horses she had left. No matter what this thing was between them, her problems were her problems. He’d already done too much by fixing her porch and air conditioner.

  “I’ve got some experience riding a feisty mare.” His expression was pure wicked male. “Got the scratch marks to prove it. I’ll add riding lessons to your curriculum, first lesson tonight.”

  Oh, Clay Mathis was a dangerous charmer.

  She licked over her bottom lip. Slowly. His gaze locked on the movement, so she did it again. She feigned a look of innocence. “You sure you don’t want to rearrange my schedule, Mr. Mathis? Move that lesson up a bit?”

  An animalistic growl rumbled from Clay’s chest. He spun her toward the house and popped her on the ass with a little shove to get her moving. “Go throw on some jeans. Then saddle up, cowgirl. It’s time to have a little fun.”

  Chapter Nine

  Clay steered them toward a grouping of large cypress trees.

  Ainsley’s riding skills were primitive, but she’d proven she could keep her ass in a saddle and direct the beast—if somewhat clumsily—where she wanted to go. Good thing ole Timber seemed content to stroll alongside Whiskey without much more than a few quiet urgings from Clay.

  Ainsley asked questions and listened while he answered. She hadn’t interrupted. Hadn’t doubted his ability to teach her. Her determination to learn about the things he took for granted—riding and ranching—humbled him. She was dead serious about making a go of it.

  He’d directed their ride first toward the section bordering Shadow Maverick and then circled back around. Clay hadn’t seen nearly all of what he needed to see of the land, but it had been a good start.

  One thing he hadn’t seen was cattle. There were a few stray head here and there, but nowhere near the numbers Nelson used to run in this section. Made him wonder if the rumors Gavin had heard were less small-town gossip and more fact.

  Ainsley had told the jackass in the fancy sports car that he hadn’t offered her a solution. Clay had taken her comment to mean money wasn’t important to her. That left one thing—the land. After learning about her childhood, it made sense. She wanted roots, something to call her own.

  He could relate. His stake in Shadow Maverick wasn’t small. The ranch would always be his livelihood, his home. But that didn’t mean he wanted to live in a trailer forever. When he was a boy, he’d dreamed of building a place with his own two hands. Maybe it was time to revisit the idea. He wasn’t getting any younger. He was scaring the shit out of thirty—only two years shy. And with his older brothers settling down, Clay figured it wasn’t unreasonable for him to consider the idea of something more permanent in his life.

  Or someone.

  Interesting how the notion had seemed distasteful until he’d met Ainsley.

  He wasn’t ready to talk to her about the new deal for her land he had in mind. Not until he worked out the details and got his family on board. He wasn’t completely confident either side would agree, which meant he had to have his shit together before he did any talking, especially with Ainsley.

  He looked over at her. “How about we rest a bit. Give that gorgeous backside of yours a break from the saddle.”

  “Sounds great. I’ve been looking forward to the picnic you promised.”

  Clay dismounted and kept hold of Whiskey’s reins. He waited for Ainsley to join him on the ground. He took her reins and walked the horses to the fence, where he secured them. Whiskey wouldn’t wander off, but he didn’t know about Timber. He wouldn’t mind having Ainsley share his saddle, but wasting daylight chasing a horse wasn’t his idea of a good time.

  He grabbed the blanket and his saddlebag.

  He shook out the blanket before spreading it on the ground. He set his food-laden saddlebag to one side. “This spot okay?”

  She stared at him.

  “Ains?”

  “I heard you in my shower yesterday,” she blurted as though she couldn’t hold the words back. “Through the vent in the kitchen.”

  He’d suspected as much. Her cheeks had been candy-apple red when he’d walked into the kitchen. Wondering why she mentioned it now, he decided to push her.

  “What is it you think you heard?” He toed off one boot, then the other.

  She chewed her bottom lip. Her gaze lowered to his groin and his blood rushed to meet her there.

  “You touched yourself.”

  Yeah, right. He hadn’t done anything so sweet and innocent since he was a boy.

  He crooked a finger. “Come over here.” He waited until she complied and raised her face to look at him. “I did more than touch myself, Ainsley. I jacked off,” he said bluntly. “Hard.”

  She held his gaze. God, he liked that about her. Embarrassed or turned-on—maybe a little of both—she didn’t shy away from his brash words.

  “What did you think about while you … jacked off?”

  “You sure you want to go there?”

  She placed her palms on his chest. “Please.”

  One little word and his world shrank to only her. Her needs. Her desires. Her pleasure. He was powerless to deny her any of those things.

  He eased off the band restraining her hair. The blonde tresses fell, framing her sun-kissed skin. “I thought about you. I imagined your hand stroking me, squeezing me, hard and tight. It was you who cupped and tugged my balls until I couldn’t breathe. I imagined slipping between your beautiful lips, feeling the warmth of your mouth as you sucked me dry. That’s the image I held when I came.” With a rush that had made his knees weak.

  She licked her lips. “I want that.”

  Christ, she was hell on his control. “Ainsley…”

  “I’m serious. You had your way with me last night. It’s my turn.” She fell to her knees and he almost blew then and there.

  Beautiful, wondering eyes looked up at him. She hooked her fingers in his waistband. “Show me how you like it.” Mesmerized, he tracked her pretty pink tongue as it peeked out and drifted across her lips. “Teach me how to please you.”

&n
bsp; The button on his jeans released. He swallowed hard. Cleared his throat. “You please me just by being you, Ainsley.”

  She blinked up at him. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

  “I’m a nice guy.” No, he wasn’t. A nice guy wouldn’t want to shove his dick down her throat. A nice guy wouldn’t dream of marking her breasts with his release. A nice fucking guy wouldn’t want to strip her naked and screw her senseless in the middle of a goddamned cow pasture.

  Ainsley worked his zipper with an agonizing slowness until finally, finally the pressure against his straining cock released.

  “Show me.” She rubbed her cheek against his length.

  Clay stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. The woman was playing with fire. And he was a complete goner.

  “Take out my cock.” His quiet demand hung in the air between them. Air thickened by desire and need. “Now, Ainsley.”

  Her hands shook as she went for the elastic on his shorts. Clay forced his hands to keep still at his sides. “Wrap your hand around me.”

  She slid her hand inside, her fingers circling his shaft. The contact sent an electrical surge up the length of his spine. A groan tore from his throat. Every muscle in his body clenched. If her hand felt this good, her mouth would drive him to the brink of madness.

  “Like this?”

  He shoved his pants and shorts down to mid-thigh. He placed his hand over hers. “Tighter, like this.”

  She quickly picked up the rhythm he set. His hips moved to meet her. “More, Clay. I want more.” She swayed, then swiped the head of his cock with her tongue.

  “Ah, damn.” He stopped the slow roll of his hips. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He traced her sexy smirk with his thumb. “Open up, baby. Take me in your mouth.”

  Her breath caressed his tip. She circled the base of his cock with her fingers, holding him tightly as her mouth came down, surrounding him in moist heat.