Casey (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 3) by Kelly Hunter

Author:Kelly Hunter [Hunter, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Published: 2017-05-22T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Casey watched as Rowan familiarized herself with the contents of his kitchen. He didn’t know what was in half of his cupboards but she didn’t know what was in any of them. She looked and he thought she liked what she saw of his home and the mountains around it, and she fit into his world in a way that made sense to him. She was of the land and born to hard work. Neglected as a child, not that she’d ever admit it, and ever so slightly daunted yet fascinated by traditionally female domains. Furnishings, kitchenware. Mothers.

Heaven only knew what she’d said to his mother.

He wanted her here, and on one hand that was a surprise and on the other hand it was no surprise at all.

He’d been trying to downplay his feelings for her.

No more.

They raided the food basket as the sky darkened to azure, bringing it down with them to the nest they’d made in front of the fire. She’d put on the new dress she’d bought on her travels and laughed at the approving look he’d given her. She’d kept to the caramel bronze colors and soft fabrics, because why mess with a good thing? But this one had turquoise ribbon below the shirred bust line, and half a dozen similar ribbons that made up the shoulder straps. When she sat and moved and reached for things they sometimes fell from her shoulders, and maybe he was a sucker for ribbon but he couldn’t stop touching her.

“Why aren’t you coming to Omaha?” he asked.

“Because I’m going to Denver to talk about printing paper for the coffee table bull riders book.”

“Do you know anything about printing paper?”

“I know there are about a thousand types to choose from. They want a foreword from me. A snapshot of my life on the tour.”

Her tone told him she wasn’t any more inclined toward the idea than when he’d mentioned them wanting more of her story. “Told you.”

“I don’t want to do it.”

He took a breath and let it out and the arm she’d rested on his chest moved with him. She liked tucking into him after sex, boneless and pliable. She liked it when he put his arms around her and let his fingers trace lazy patterns on her back, even if he worried that his hands were too rough for the soft delicacy of her skin. For someone so skittish about being around him nine-tenths of the time, she denied him nothing once they were naked. Not her thoughts or her reactions, not her feelings.

“People hear how my mother died and how I was raised on the road and that bulls and bull riding is all I know and they get that look about them,” she murmured. “The one that says child services should have been called twenty years ago.”

“Do you think child services should have been called?”

“No. But I don’t want to go back to those days either. Not even in my head. My father worked hard. Traveled hard too.

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