Cowboy Untamed
Author
Vicki Lewis Thompson
Reads
17.2K
Chapters
17
HarlequinChapter 1
A WYOMING SUNSET tinged the horizon pale orange, reminding Grady Magee of the Dreamsicles he used to crave as a kid. But thoughts of adult pleasures nudged out childhood nostalgia as he parked his truck in front of the Sheridan Art Barn next to a grape-colored pickup, the only other vehicle in the lot. It likely belonged to Sapphire Ferguson, the woman who’d been on his mind during most of the long drive from Cody.
Three weeks ago during a visit to Thunder Mountain Ranch, he’d come by here with his foster brother Cade to pick up some local art for Cade’s new cabin. Sapphire, a talented potter, had been minding the store. He’d barely recognized her.
The quiet girl he remembered from high school had morphed into a confident woman with a smoldering glance that set him on fire. When she’d asked him to headline a charity event featuring artists creating work on the spot, he’d set aside his packed schedule and agreed without finding out what the charity was. Didn’t matter.
Hauling his tools and materials from Cody and setting up a studio in a corner of this renovated barn was a pain in the ass. He didn’t care. Sapphire had his attention. While honing his welding skills in Alaska and dreaming of making a living with recycled metal art, he’d also dreamed of the kind of woman he’d want to share his life with.
She’d be a self-starter, imaginative, bold and sensual. Good looks wouldn’t hurt but sexual chemistry was more important. Getting both would be a bonus. In short, the woman of his dreams was a lot like Sapphire Ferguson. Maybe his first impression would turn out to be wrong. Or maybe she already had someone in her life.
His gut told him she didn’t. She wasn’t wearing a ring and she’d acted as fascinated with him as he’d been with her. Since then, they’d communicated only through brief phone texts because they’d both battled crazy deadlines. He could be imagining the hum of sexual energy underlying those texts, but he didn’t think so.
He climbed out of his truck with that same energy fizzing in his veins. She’d agreed to meet him and help him get his stuff unloaded, but he hadn’t counted on being alone with her. Eight other artists were part of the co-op Sapphire had organized, each claiming one of the renovated stalls as both a work and display space. He’d expected some of them to be around.
Apparently, they weren’t as manic about working as he was. He put in long hours, both because he loved it and because the commissions kept coming and he didn’t like making customers wait. His brother Liam had reminded him that building a successful career in less than three years was unusual and few artists made a living, let alone a good living.
Grady believed him, although he didn’t have much to go on. He’d used the nest egg he’d saved during his pipeline job to keep him afloat while he followed his dream. His first sculptures had sold like hotcakes and after that he’d been so busy keeping up with the demand that he’d had no time to hang out with other artists.
Spending time with Sapphire was his primary motivation for doing the charity event, but he also looked forward to conversations with other creative types. Not to say he was disappointed that he and Sapphire were alone tonight. Fraternizing with the other co-op members could wait.
He’d started toward the double-door entrance when he heard a woman’s soft voice coming from somewhere to the right of the barn. He couldn’t make out the words, but from the sound of it she really liked the person she was talking to. He paused to listen. Maybe he had this all wrong and the grape-colored pickup had brought two people here—Sapphire and her boyfriend. That would suck.
Standing very still, he listened for a response, a deeper murmur that would indicate she was with a guy. Nothing. He edged closer so he could make out what she was saying.
“Come on, Fred,” she crooned. “You know you want this.”
Dear God. If Sapphire was about to have sex with someone named Fred up against the side of the barn, he did not want to be here. Yeah, he’d arrived a little earlier than planned because he’d broken a few speed limits on the way. She might not be expecting him for another hour.
“You liked it last night, remember? Don’t be shy.”
Grady squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. He’d pinned his hopes on Sapphire being available, yet he’d had no proof of that. If he stayed here much longer, he’d find out exactly how misguided his assumptions were.
Better to quietly climb back into his truck and slowly exit the parking lot. If they were about to get busy, they wouldn’t hear him drive away. He’d grab a cup of coffee in the diner.
“There you go. Isn’t that nice?”
Yikes. He took a slow step backward, then another.
“Such a good boy. Such a brave kitty-cat.”
Kitty-cat? He froze. No man with an ounce of self-respect would let a woman call him kitty-cat. And now that he thought about it, no straight guy would need coaxing in order to have sex with a woman like Sapphire.
He crept to the corner of the building to take a look and discovered Sapphire crouched in the dry grass, the golden glow of the sunset igniting sparks of fire in her long auburn hair. She’d placed several bowls in a semicircle around her and he counted eleven cats munching away. Instead of having sex, she was feeding strays.
He sighed in relief. The sound wasn’t loud but it caught everyone’s attention. Sapphire and all eleven cats looked at him. A black cat with white markings backed away from the dish. “Sorry,” Grady muttered.
She kept her voice low. “You’re early.”
“Traffic was light.”
“You’d better not come any closer. I’d like Fred to eat some more.”
“Fred.” He swallowed so he wouldn’t laugh and spook the cats.
“Fred Astaire. The tuxedo. He’s the most skittish of the bunch but I’m making progress with him.”
Grady had never heard anyone refer to a cat as a tuxedo but it was a great description. The white patch on Fred’s chest made him look as if he’d dressed for the Oscars.
All the cats went back to eating except Fred. Hunkered down, eyes wide and pupils dilated, he stared at Grady. His whiskers, white to match his chest, trembled.
“He won’t hurt you, sweetie.” Sapphire’s voice dripped honey as she spoke to the cat. “The food’s yum-yum-yummy, kitty-cat. You know you want some. Come on, come and get it.”
Her words seemed to have no effect on Fred but they were having a definite effect on Grady. After three weeks of erotic dreams featuring her in the lead role, he was a hot mess of raging hormones. Listening to her woo the cat was initiating action below his belt. She’d told him to stay put but that could prove embarrassing if she kept up this seductive murmur. Sure, she was addressing a cat, but he had no trouble imagining her using that same tone during sex. The longer he stood there, the larger his problem grew, so to speak.
He couldn’t very well tell her that. “Maybe I should move so Fred can’t see me.” He hoped she hadn’t heard the telltale huskiness in his voice.
“That might help.” Fortunately, she didn’t glance over at him. “I’ll be finished in a few minutes.”
“I’ll meet you out front.” He began a slow retreat, wincing at the pressure of his zipper against his pride and joy.
“Okay.” She went back to sweet-talking Fred.
He did his best to block the sound as he ducked out of sight and made the painful journey to his truck. Bracing both hands on the hood, he took several deep breaths. Anyone would think he was some horny teenager.
Normally, he didn’t have this issue. He thought back to the last woman he’d dated and was shocked to realize they’d broken up more than a year ago. Time flew when you were making art. She’d never understood his preoccupation with his work and they’d fought about it enough times that they’d decided to call it quits last July.
Okay, so he hadn’t been in bed with a woman for a long time and now he’d found someone so hot that he’d fixated on her for weeks. That could explain his sudden stiffy. He felt a little better about his reaction, although he’d have to watch himself to make sure he didn’t come across as sex starved.
Turning around, he leaned his butt against the truck and adjusted himself. Better now. He repositioned his new Stetson so it sat more firmly on his head. Liam had talked him into buying it to fit his image as a celebrated Western artist and it was the most expensive one he’d ever owned—black with a silver-and-turquoise hatband. Naturally, Liam had insisted such a hat deserved a new pair of boots, also black, with fancy stitching. Grady had worn them to make a good impression but he’d brought his old scuffed ones to work in.
He had two projects in mind. First he would put together a nice sculpture for his foster mom, Rosie Padgett. She and his foster dad, Herb, had welcomed Grady and Liam to Thunder Mountain Ranch ten years ago when their mom’s car accident had left her unable to care for a couple of rowdy teens. Last month Rosie had hinted to Liam that she’d love a sculpture, and Grady had come up with a great idea for the design.
Creating Rosie’s gift would help him settle into the workspace, so he’d be ready to put on a performance for the charity night. He’d come up with a sketch for that one, too, and it was a piece he could finish within the three hours allotted to the event. Sapphire planned to have a silent auction for his contribution and she hoped to raise a lot of money.
He really should find out what the charity was. His sculpture should relate to the cause in some way, and just because he liked the cougar he’d sketched, didn’t mean it would work with the evening’s theme. He’d ask Sapphire about that when she finished feeding the stray cats. It was possible she’d told him and the information hadn’t registered, because he’d been so focused on her.
Nudging his hat back with his thumb, he gazed up as the first stars blinked on. They weren’t as bright in town as they were out at the ranch. Much as he’d love to stay with his foster parents during his time in Sheridan, it wasn’t practical.
Thunder Mountain Academy, a new venture that involved teaching high school kids about everything related to horses, was in its last week of the summer session. The cabins that had once housed foster boys were now filled with teens enrolled in the program. Grady would only be in the way, so he’d accepted an offer to stay in town with Ben and Molly Radcliffe.
Ben had made saddles for just about everyone Grady knew in Sheridan, including his foster parents. Molly was Cade Gallagher’s cousin, although Grady hadn’t quite worked out the details of that connection. It had something to do with the well-known Chance brothers in Jackson Hole. In any case, Molly and Ben were part of the Thunder Mountain Ranch extended family and they were happy to let him use their guest room.
He’d warned them he didn’t know when he’d show up. Unloading his equipment and materials had to come first. At least, that was how he’d rationalized stopping at the Art Barn to meet with Sapphire. Technically, he could have driven over to Molly and Ben’s tonight and brought his supplies here in the morning.
Yet when he’d suggested stopping by tonight to drop them off, Sapphire had readily agreed. Her eagerness had fired up his imagination, and discovering that she was here alone added to the anticipation. He wondered if she’d had dinner. He ran through the restaurant options and decided to suggest his favorite bar because it had live music and a dance floor.
“That takes care of that.” Sapphire rounded the corner of the barn holding a stack of bowls. “I thought I’d be done before you got here.”
He pushed himself away from the truck and walked toward her. “No worries. Do you feed them every night?” She looked even prettier than he remembered—wavy auburn hair pulled back on one side with an elaborate silver comb, exotic earrings that dangled to her shoulders, a low-cut peasant blouse and a brightly patterned skirt that reminded him of gypsies.
“We feed them every night and every morning. We rotate weeks and this happens to be mine.” She tipped her head toward the double doors at the entrance. “Come on in. I need to wash these and then I’ll help you unload your equipment.”
“Thanks. That would be great.” He caught the spicy scent of her perfume, the same one she’d worn when they’d met three weeks ago. He breathed it in and all his hopes and dreams came flooding back. “So everyone pitches in to feed the strays?” He wondered if she liked to dance. Even if she wasn’t much for dancing, they could get out on the floor and do the shuffle-and-sway routine to a slow tune so he could hold her.
“They’re not exactly strays. Can you please catch the door for me?”
“Sure thing.” He hurried to do it, berating himself as he slid the barn door open. He’d been so busy making plans for tonight that he’d forgotten his manners.
“You can check out the new pieces on display while I wash these.”
“You have a sink?”
“During the renovation we put in a small bathroom and a tiny kitchen.” She gestured toward the row of stalls. “Go ahead and look around. I left on the lights so you could see the new stuff. Everyone’s getting ready for the big weekend. Lots of good work.”
“Sounds great, but I’d be glad to help you with the cat dishes.” Even in high school he’d been fascinated by her turquoise eyes. He’d never asked her out, because he’d been busy denying his own artistic leanings. He’d had a feeling she could see who he really was and he hadn’t been ready to acknowledge that yet.
She smiled. “It’s a one-person job. Go ahead and browse.”
“Okay.” But he sure hated to leave those eyes and that smile. He thought about both as he walked down the aisle between the stalls. Although he glanced at the artwork along the way, all he really cared about tonight was Sapphire’s pottery.
Three weeks ago Cade had bought a vase of hers that Grady would have given his eyeteeth for. But the trip had been for Cade and so he’d scored the vase. Grady was curious as to what else she’d added to her collection since then.
Her display was conveniently located next to the large stall that would be his for the next several days. He stepped into the space and sucked in a breath. During his first visit here he’d noticed the sensuality of her work, and the newest pieces were even more dramatic, especially her dinnerware set.
The saturated colors and undulating lines of the single place setting made him wonder what sort of orgy the two of them could have with food served on these dishes. Picking up a red bowl with a dark purple interior, he cradled it in both hands and ran his thumb over the pebbled rim. The bowl was a tactile and visual feast.
Her potter’s wheel stood in the corner ready for the next project, and he wanted to be there to see if her expression while creating was as passionate as the work itself. If she’d had an erotic nature back in high school, he’d totally missed the clues.
Not surprising. He’d been an insecure idiot back then, but he’d changed and so had she. He’d embraced his true calling and had finally realized that testosterone and art weren’t mutually exclusive. Obviously, she’d grown out of her timid phase.
“That collection’s new.”
He turned to find her standing in the opening that used to be the stall door. He’d been absorbed in his plans and hadn’t heard her footsteps. “It’s sexy.”
“You’re not the first person who seems to feel that way.” Her gaze met his and for a moment there was a flash of heat. Then she looked away and studied the colorful dinnerware. “I put that place setting out yesterday and I can already tell it startles people.”
“Why?” His blood warmed as he registered the interest he’d seen in her eyes. This could turn into an excellent evening.
“The colors seem to make them nervous. They’re also thrown for a loop when I explain that each place setting’s slightly different. Most people expect their dinner dishes to match. It’ll take a certain kind of customer.”
Like me. But buying her pottery right off the bat might brand him as a suck-up. He would get some eventually and, if everything turned out the way he’d like it to, they’d enjoy a meal together, preferably naked.
He gestured toward the wheel. “You obviously work here.”
“Yep. I visualized this as a combination studio and gallery from the beginning. Not everyone spends as much time here as I do, but I love it. The concrete floor is easy to clean and nobody cares if it gets stained. I have a kiln out back. Best conditions I’ve ever had.”
“The venue makes a difference.” He glanced at the large stall where he’d be setting up. “Looks like we’ll be neighbors.”
“Uh-huh. I like being in the back. Earlier this summer I considered moving into what’ll be your space but I didn’t, which is a good thing. Ready to unload your truck?”
“You bet.” He set the bowl down with great care. His work was nearly indestructible but hers could be a victim of gravity. He didn’t want that on his conscience.
He hauled in the big stuff—odd pieces of scrap metal and unusual gears and machine parts that he scavenged from anywhere he could find them. The hunt was part of the fun, although he didn’t have as much time for it as he used to. Friends had volunteered to comb junkyards for him and Liam was always on the lookout for interesting finds.
Sapphire carried in a box of welding equipment. “Where do you want this?” She stood in the middle of the spacious stall with her arms full.
“In the corner’s okay for now. I’ll set up everything tomorrow. Have you had dinner?”
“Um, no.” She put the box down and turned back to him. Instead of looking eager, she seemed wary. “But I’d planned to head home and catch up on some paperwork.”
Not the response he was hoping for. “How about taking some time to grab a bite with me at Scruffy’s Bar? There are a few things I’d like to discuss.”
Her expression remained guarded. “I guess I could. I’ll meet you over there, but I can’t stay long.”
“That’s fine.” It wasn’t fine at all. Where was that spark he’d seen a moment ago? He’d pictured her falling right in with his plan. They’d have a few drinks, dance a little and explore what he’d hoped would be a mutual attraction.
Maybe she had mountains of paperwork and really did need to finish it before tomorrow. “Listen, if you don’t have time, we can take a rain check.”
“No, it’ll be okay. I’m grateful that you agreed to be part of this.”
Oh, great. Now she was joining him out of a sense of obligation. “I’m happy to do it. Please don’t feel you have to keep me company while I eat. We can talk in the morning.”
“No, let’s do it now.” She gave him a quick smile. “I’ll lock up and be over there in a jiffy.”
She clearly didn’t want him hanging around while she took care of that. “See you there, then.” He touched the brim of his hat.
Damned if that gesture didn’t light up those amazing eyes of hers. Not for long, but this time he knew he wasn’t mistaken. She was attracted to him. But for some unknown reason, she didn’t want to be.
