“What do you do around these parts? Go to college?”
“Do I look like a college boy?”
Her gaze moved over him from his western shirt, to his jeans and boots and back up to his hat. “Maybe you’re a rodeo cowboy?”
His lips twisted. “Not hardly. I’m a rancher.”
“Isn’t that the same as being a cowboy?”
“Not even f**kin’ close.”
“Don’t snap at me,” she cautioned, “and watch your language.”
The woman had a spark. “Sorry. Just because I raise cattle don’t mean I’m dumb enough to get on the back of a bull or a bronc. There are plenty of risks depending on Mother Nature to make or break you in the cattle business.”
“Doesn’t seem like you like it all that much.”
“Some days are better than others. I’m a third-generation rancher so it wasn’t like I had much choice.”
“If you did have a choice and could do something different, what would it be?”
He steered the conversation back on track. “The better question is how would you feel about bein’ married to a rancher?”
That startled her. “What?”
“I am what I am, Carolyn. That ain’t ever gonna change. It ain’t an easy life—physically, mentally or emotionally. Some years we’re flush; some years we’re broke. Takin’ care of the cattle and the land is always my first priority.”
“So any woman you marry will have to understand she’ll come second to cows and crops?”
He watched her eyes, so wise and yet so curious, which was a damn potent combination when she focused it on him. “Yeah.”
“No wonder you’re having a hard time finding a woman to sign on for that life.”
“That’s the thing. I haven’t been lookin’.” He twisted a strand of blonde silk around his finger. “Then I saw you.”
“And…what? You thought I looked like I’d be good with cattle? Or that I’d be a good cook? Or I wouldn’t mind living hand to mouth? Or I had wide enough hips to birth a bunch of ranch hands? That makes no sense.”
“Now you’re getting it. It doesn’t make a lick of sense that when I saw you standing up at the bar I imagined wakin’ up to you every morning for the rest of my life.”
Her jaw nearly hit the ground. Then she managed, “You did?”
“Umm-hmm.” He tickled her lips with the end of her hair. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be nineteen this summer. How old are you?” she asked.
Old enough to know better. “Twenty-four.” He dropped his hand and retreated.
Carolyn snatched his forearm, holding him in place. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me with regret.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.” Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Besides, I liked the way you were looking at me before you asked how old I was.”
Definitely a spark there. “And how was that?”
“Like it didn’t matter. Like you wanted to strip me bare and go wild on me.”
“Is that what you want me to do?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”
Carson angled his head closer to hers. “Ever been nekkid with a man, sugar?”
“No.” She paused. “I’ve thought about it.” Her wide blue eyes locked on his. “I’ve thought about it a lot more since I met you.”
Holy hell this woman was killing him. She had no idea how sexy the combination of bold, innocent and honest was to a man like him. “Oh yeah?” He slid his hand up her arm and across her shoulder to cup her neck. “You gonna take another swing at me if I take this pretty mouth the way I want to?”
She lowered her lashes and stared at his lips.
Enough answer for him.
Carson tipped her head back and fused his mouth to hers.
This time she parted her lips and her breath exploded in his mouth. Her tongue sought his, boldly stroking and twining around his. Giving him a complete taste of her. She used her teeth to nip, her tongue to explore. Her lips were soft and yielding, then firm and demanding.
The kiss blew his mind. While there was no denying their attraction, this immediate passion between them caught him off guard. As did her complete abandonment to it.
He lifted her off the tailgate and pressed her against the rear quarter panel, keeping one arm behind her back and the other hand curled at the nape of her neck.
Carolyn’s hands clutched his shirt as she tried to pull him closer.
Finally, he had to take a breath that wasn’t saturated with her taste and her scent. He moved his lips from the corner of her mouth down to the arch of her neck. “Damn,” he panted against her throat.
“Are you okay?”
He dragged an openmouthed kiss up the smooth section of skin, stopping at her ear. “No, I’m not okay. I’m wantin’ way more than a kiss, so I’m thinkin’ we should just go ahead, hop in the truck and find us someone who’ll marry us tonight.”
She laughed softly. Then she planted kisses along his jaw, her breath whispering across his damp flesh, eliciting his shiver.
He spun them and leaned his back against the truck, wanting her soft curves pressing into him, wanting his hands on her luscious ass.
A wolf whistle rent the air. “Take it inside the truck, McKay,” someone shouted.
Carson scowled at his drinking buddy. “Move along, Tucker.”
“Looks like you’re the one who’s movin’ pretty fast.”
Assholes.
“McKay?” she repeated. “Your last name is McKay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Carolyn stepped back. “I don’t believe this.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I can explain—”
“You can’t.”
He followed her, hating the wariness that had replaced the heat in her eyes. “At least let me try.”
“Ask me my last name.”
Annoyed by the abrupt change in her, he said, “Fine, Carolyn, what’s your last name?”
“West.”
That stopped him. “What?”
“I’m Carolyn West.”
“You’re kiddin’, right?”
She shook her head. “My dad is Elijah—Eli—West.”
Carson had heard that name several times, always attached to a vile string of curses and a rant the likes of which he’d never heard from his closemouthed father. He’d warned his sons to stay far away from all members of the West family. He and his brothers tried to ask questions, but the old man had shut them down without explaining his reasons. Carson had put it out of his mind.