Wild cowboy, p.5
Wild Cowboy, page 5
“I started the company in college,” she said quietly. “My parents were both professors and there was this huge pressure to succeed, you know?” She laughed. “All I wanted to do was be outside. We lived like half an hour away from the Redwoods, and from the minute I got my license, I was out in the national parks every weekend. And still, they wanted me to go to school.”
She understood now, years and years later and with everything that had passed since then, that her mom and dad had been looking out for her in the best way they knew how. With the success of her business, and the wisdom of age, they’d started to see eye to eye, but in those years, Morgan had been desperate to find like-minded adventure-seekers, people who understood the call of open skies and bright blue seas. It had left her vulnerable.
“I dropped out.” Even now, with a successful business and the chance to do what she loved most for her job, the words still felt like failure. “Halfway through. Made my folks furious, but it wasn’t their life.” A truth she had repeated to herself a thousand times. It was a truth they had eventually come to realize as well, and Morgan had to give them credit for that.
“I never went to college,” Reece offered. “Wasn’t in the cards for me.”
That gave her pause. “Not even for journalism?”
He shook his head but didn’t offer up any more information
“We’re still on you. Just seemed like a sore subject, so.”
It was. Even though he had his eyes on the road and was gracefully gliding the truck through the mountains, he still seemed in-tune enough with her emotions to understand when she needed rallying.
“Not prying,” she replied. “But if you wanted to talk about it—”
“We’re still on you,” Reece repeated, before she could finish getting the words out. “You’re one of the most successful business owners in the industry and you can’t be more than twenty-five. I want to know the story.”
It was interesting, that. She had been interviewed before, by magazines and on business panels, and Morgan knew there was a small fame that came along with the success of the business, but she’d never really gotten used to that part.
Wide Open Skies had been about chasing the next adventure and helping others chase theirs, not about magazine features or becoming a recognizable face. Still, when Reece asked, she got the sense that he was asking about her, about what had driven her, not about the business itself.
“Twenty-nine,” she said. “Thirty in a month, if it’s of any interest, Mr. Now-Who’s-Fishing.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up and she knew she had caught him. He’d been curious about her, about the small details and the big ones, just like she was curious about him. Dangerously so.
“Long story short,” she continued, “if that’s still possible. I went on a trip one weekend and found these awesome iron-ons at the campgrounds where we were staying. They were like a quarter a piece and I bought them out. I didn’t know what I was going to do with them, I just knew I needed to have them.”
She could still feel the waxy paper on her fingertips, even now, feel the sting of the hot fabric as she touched it too quickly after the iron. It had been the sensation of jumping off a cliff into fresh, cool water, of reaching the top of a mountain, like she had known she was supposed to be creating the whole time.
“I made a couple of tank tops for friends, then a couple more, then I was buying shirts in bulk and skipping class to make merchandise,” she said. “Moved to water bottles and backpacks and when the original iron-ons ran out, I tried my hand at designing my own and printing them out in my dorm room.”
Those days, her life had been a flurry of activity, but even with all the late nights and early mornings, even as she had found herself saying no to camping trips or days spent climbing at the gym, she knew that she had been on an adventure of an entirely new kind—one that had taken her all over the world.
“Things kind of spiraled out of control after that. I left school, started up with a business partner, and officially developed the company into what it is today.”
The business partner had been Aaron, and looking back now, Morgan could see so fully that he had chosen her, not the other way around. But the excitement of the new company, the fear of being out of her depth, even as she had never been afraid of deep waters before—it had made it all too easy for him to step in and offer his services to her, his services and so much more. It hadn’t been all bad. But none of it had been real, either.
“Your turn.”
Reece smiled. He had a secret smile that made her all the more curious, made her want to push and tease until he told her what was on his mind and all that she would have to do to get it. She found herself blissfully, amazingly, very interested in finding out what she would have to do to get it.
“Too bad,” he said, that smile widening, no doubt at being let off the hook. “We’re here.”
Here turned out to be the entrance to a campground, a dirt road that Reece navigated easily, that led to a wide-open field where a handful of other cars were parked. From the parking lot, if it could be called that, Morgan could see three or four different paths, each marked in a specific color that would undoubtedly be matched by the available maps in a plastic-covered box standing at the far end.
“We go on foot?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s a good thing you pack light.”
Once Wide Open Skies had taken off, she’d focused her efforts and started to purchase and plan more intentionally. That had led to the hiring of brilliant engineers and designers, who helped her to create more efficient backpacks, smaller sleeping rolls, microfiber blankets and snacks that tasted good, kept well, and gave travelers the energy they needed on the road. With the supplies in her backpack, lightly replenished with nuts and granola bars that Reece had picked up in town, she could survive in the woods for two weeks before she even started to worry. That running away was so simple and easy had always been a point of comfort to her, even on the worst days.
“Oh, and you’d strike me as the matching suitcase set type,” she replied, coming out of the truck after Reece had put into park and unlocked the back doors.
“That one gets a little sticky,” he said, a note of apology in his voice. “There’s a trick, let me show you.” By the time she had turned to the sound of his voice, Reece was behind her, and every single nerve in Morgan’s body was on high alert, tuned in to his presence and the rich, dark scent of him. He smelled like their campfire from the night before, like fresh pine, and like the feeling of whiskey in her chest—warm and spicy, and filled with promises of what was to come.
“Sorry,” he murmured, and God, the sound sent shivers through her whole body, shivers she had absolutely no right or desire to be feeling right now. The last thing she needed was to get herself all wrapped up in a new…thing. And she had the sense that with Reece, she would get very tangled, indeed. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
It was just that, his low breath, so close to her ear, husky and sexy as hell, the way his hand came around the truck door to wiggle something free, accidentally pressing his forearm to her side, his tall, strong frame, only a few inches away from her, it all made Morgan wonder exactly what it was that she had been protesting again.
Chapter Six
“You didn’t.”
Didn’t what? Reece couldn’t find his own brain if it was in his hand. All he could think about was her sweet, warm scent, the impossible dangerous draw of this beautiful woman, the importance of keeping a safe distance away from her taut, firm ass because if he got too close, she would definitely know what was on his mind, and it had nothing to do with the Chinook salmon.
“Didn’t?” His voice sounded very rough, and there was a good chance she was going to know about what was going through his head even without the physical evidence. He thanked fuck for his joggers because if he had on the jeans he usually wore at the ranch, he’d be sporting a zipper-shaped imprint on his dick without a doubt.
“You didn’t startle me.”
Morgan had turned around to face him, her back still against the closed truck door, and fuck me, she had a look in her eyes that made Reece want to beg for mercy. Or, more to the point, make her beg for mercy. He wouldn’t give it to her. He’d keep her right on the edge of her pleasure for hours, teasing and touching until she thought she would lose her mind, and even beyond that, until she was so overwrought with pleasure that she had to give in against his orders, impossible orders, designed to push until submission, until punishment could be properly meted out.
And sweet fucking punishment it would be too.
He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop the knee-jerk desire to get closer to her if they were caught in a hurricane, and he leaned an arm on the truck, just above her head. If he noticed for a second that she didn’t want to be in the cage of his arms, he’d let her out, no question. But she did. It was clear in her bright blue eyes, dancing with need she clearly didn’t understand. Maybe she had never done anything like what called to him, but she’d be damned amazing at it, Reece didn’t have a doubt.
“Are you sure, pet?” he asked, leaning down ever so slightly as to enter her space, while still giving her room to breathe. To his immense satisfaction, she seemed to be having trouble doing that, and Reece watched her throat work, the sight making his lips part and his own breathing go shallow. “Because you look a little out of sorts.”
She looked like she was either going to give in to the obvious desire pulsing through her veins or like she was going to dart into the wilderness never to be seen again, so Reece pulled back. He shouldn’t be pushing her at all. Lord above only knew that Montana was complicated enough, even without the new investigative assignments, and the last thing he needed to do was bring a woman into the mix. Even if that woman was pulling on his every last string, most of which appeared to be directly connected to his cock.
Except, not exactly. Because when she’d been telling him her stories in the car, he’d been more than interested. He’d wanted to know every last thing about her, from how she had started her business to the color of her childhood bedroom. And that was far more dangerous than a simple roll in the hay.
Pulling back couldn’t have been more difficult if he had been a compass and she magnetic north, but somehow Reece managed it and he stepped away from the truck, from Morgan Tempest and her damned beautiful smile.
“We should get going,” he said. “It stays light late out here, but we want to make some distance before we set up camp.” More like he wanted to put some distance between the two of them because the second he got any fucking closer to her, he was going to have a damned hard time fighting this incredible pull, fighting the need to tell her what he was, what he did, and what he wanted from her.
To teach a woman like Morgan Tempest…
The thought sure as hell wasn’t slowing his libido, so he went around to the other side of the truck and double-checked the pockets of his backpack before pulling it on. The heavy, comfortable weight on his shoulders was a reminder of who he was, a man on the move, a man with a job to do and a man who should be keeping his distance.
Reece resisted the urge to bang his head against the truck door, but just barely. Instead, he gave a perfunctory last call to her, locked the truck up and secured his keys in a hidden compartment at the bottom of his bag. Then he snagged one of the maps from the covered bin.
“We’re headed north,” he said, coming around to meet her on the other side of the truck, after he couldn’t delay any longer. “So we’ll want to take the green trail up to the pass, then we’ll be on our own.” Jon Naylor hadn’t been able to give him much more information on the company, and Reece planned to play it by ear. Large industrial compounds dumping toxic waste tended to make a statement in the wilderness, especially since he’d be looking for one.
Still, he pulled his phone out one more time to check for any missed calls from Naylor, uncertain if he would have service in the mountains. Naylor hadn’t reached out, but there were a handful of messages that made Reece grimace.
Call me when you’re in range. There’s something we need to talk about.
Reece.
Reece. Don’t be an asshole.
“Is everything okay?” Morgan didn’t look like she was about to be terrified off into the woods by his advances anymore. She had apparently smoothed her hair into two dark braids that hung over her shoulders, and her face was bright, likely at the prospect of this new adventure. It wasn’t an adventure and he shouldn’t have allowed her to come, but after two short days Reece was fairly certain that Morgan Tempest did what she wanted, regardless of permission.
“It’s fine.” His voice came out little frustrated and a little angry and he schooled his tone. Last thing she needed was his attitude. “Sorry, I mean it’s fine. Just a well-meaning friend.”
She smiled and it was like the sight of the sun coming out after a storm.
“I know the type,” she said. “It’s a big reason I’m on this trip solo. Well, I was.”
He liked that, probably more than he should, liked that she considered them part of some kind of ragtag team. He wasn’t exactly the kind of team member a woman should want for, but that didn’t stop him from wanting for her.
Instead of replying, he started down the path and she followed him. They walked in companionable silence for a while, with the occasional interjection from Morgan about a bird or something beautiful they had passed. Reece envied her, in a sense. Montana was his backyard and it seemed as though he had forgotten how to find the beauty in the simple.
Maybe if you called your friends.
At least his pity party was a great way to avoid thinking about how Morgan might feel wrapped around him under the blanket of a night sky. Nope. He’d rather take some self-loathing than make the night ahead harder than it was already going to be. Literally.
As if he’d thought it, the sun began to cast its harsh, bright light, the strongest rays right before it disappeared beyond the distant horizon.
“We should start to find a place to camp,” he said to her, and Morgan nodded. She was an old hand at this, more than capable of finding her way through the wilderness, and he should have been thanking his lucky stars for the education he’d probably get at her side. Instead, he was ogling her very fine ass.
A few minutes later, they came to a clearing that looked as though it had been recently used by other hikers.
“Tent or no tent?” Reece asked.
Morgan grinned. “No tent,” she said. “I want to see the stars.”
That had him cursing under his breath because he wanted to see the stars too, or at least the way she looked under them. But not having to share the tiny two-person tent also meant that he wasn’t going to wake up pressed against her like he had that morning, so he could thank God for small victories.
They unrolled their sleeping bags, a safe distance from one another, and Reece got started on a fire while Morgan dug around in her cooler pack for dinner.
“Chili mac and cheese or spaghetti and meatballs?” She held up two packages and Reece narrowed his eyes at her.
“You had those last night?” he asked.
She made a decision and placed the other pack in her bag. “You didn’t enjoy our feast of granola and jerky? Besides, we couldn’t boil water in the storm.”
It wasn’t quite astronaut food, but he still thought of it that way. Still, it would be a welcome break from their diet of cold sandwiches and trail mix, and he had a pot of water boiling in the next few minutes on the open fire.
“If I were from Montana,” Morgan said, leaning back on her small tree stump seat to look at the sky above. “I don’t think I would ever leave.”
Reece raised an eyebrow. “A lot of people would say the same thing about California,” he said. “Especially your part of California.”
Morgan’s eyes crinkled when she smiled. “That’s fair. I guess when it’s home, it doesn’t seem so exciting.” She sat up and looked at him. “Have you ever ridden a bull?”
He hadn’t been expecting that.
“No, ma’am,” he said, affecting the accent more than was strictly necessary. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “I’ve seen too many nasty things happen to men who don’t take nature seriously and I never thought to add myself to her list of conquests. But—”
That caught Morgan’s attention and she leaned forward to watch him through the fire.
“I did spend time in the plains, real early cowboy stuff, herding steer for a couple local ranches, roping and riding, everything the movies tell you about.” He paused. “It’s how I became a journalist actually.”
No summer had been able to compare to the one he had spent on the Sinclair Ranch, working with the rest of the Sinclair Seven for Beau Sinclair. So the next summer, knowing they were all scattered to the four winds, he’d hopped from farm to farm, and he’d found himself with time out in the plains. At first, he had read old newspapers and farmers’ magazines, then he’d come across a call for writers in the back of American Frontier Magazine, and he’d figured why the hell not.
“You know my story,” she said, her eyes wide and glowing with excitement in the light of the fire. “I want to hear yours.”
No, she didn’t. Even he didn’t want to hear his own story, knowing how it had all turned out. A woman like Morgan, she should be safe from his past, from the bullshit that had happened then happened again. He hadn’t ever been inclined to ride bulls because he already went up against the elements and forces of nature every day, and because he had seen more than his fair share of senseless violence.
“I wrote a story and I sent it in to a magazine,” he said. “They sent me a check and asked me when the next piece would be coming in. So I wrote another one.” It had been a secret thrill, something he hadn’t shared with anyone in the first few months, but he’d gone out and bought himself a cheap laptop and a pack of notebooks and he’d written about life out west, written about the world he had come from and had never expected to leave.
