“You really wanna know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?” When Cal started picking at the label on his beer bottle instead of answering, Carson snapped, “Well?”
“That right there is what I mean. You are a hard man like Dad in so many ways. Always focused on getting the work done, makin’ sure it’s done right and movin’ onto the next thing. But you’ve got a reckless streak a damn mile wide. It’s your way of thumbing your nose at your responsibilities. During the week you’re Carson McKay, heir apparent to the McKay ranch, driven to succeed. But on weekends, you’re that wild McKay, always lookin’ for a good fight or a fast f**k, and f**k anyone who stands in your way of havin’ a good time.”
Yeah. Not a whole lot he could say to that because it was dead on.
“How many times you been asked when you’ll settle down and stop the fightin’ and the drinkin’?”
“Asked by Dad? Or asked by the people I hang around with on the weekends?”
“Both.”
“My drinkin’ buddies are worried I’ll settle down so they don’t say nothin’. Every once in a while Dad will mention it ain’t my job to answer every challenge with my fists, drink up all the alcohol in Crook County and sample every pu**y in Wyoming.”
Cal choked on his beer. “Jesus. Dad said that to you?”
“On more than one occasion.”
“That shocks the hell out of me.”
“Why? Dad ripped it up plenty in his day. He didn’t marry Ma until he was thirty-one.”
“You ain’t gonna last until you’re thirty-one, the way you’re talkin’.” Cal got a gleam in his eye. “What happens after you admit your undying love for Carolyn West and beg her to make an honest man outta you?”
Carson grinned. “First thing I do is kick your ass out. Then when my beloved and I can force ourselves to leave our bed, we’ll hit the dancehall and the bars. Just ’cause we’re married don’t mean we gotta act like them old couples who stay at home and stare at the damn walls for fun.”
Cal cocked his head. “So you do plan on getting hitched to her?”
“If she’ll have me.” As soon as Carson admitted that out loud, he believed it. He’d make it happen.
“Gimme another goddamned beer.”
He handed it over. “Can you make yourself scarce tomorrow night? Carolyn’s comin’ over.”
“Guess that means you ain’t interested in hittin’ Gentleman Jack’s?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe I’ll pop Charlie’s strip club cherry since I got a feelin’ your strip club days are done.”
“Good plan.”
And that was that. End of discussion. Another thing he appreciated about Cal. He never wanted to talk things to f**king death, but he was always there whenever Carson needed to talk.
The following night Carolyn showed up on time, looking as tempting as strawberry ice cream in a pale pink dress, her hair swirled on top of her head.
He swept her into his arms, kissing her hungrily as he carried her into the trailer. So much for acting cool.
She sighed and placed a lingering kiss on his throat.
That simple, sweet gesture nearly did him in. But he’d sworn to himself he wasn’t dragging her to his bed as soon as she waltzed in the door. He nuzzled her neck. “You smell good.”
“Like pork chops and fried apples? That’s what I cooked for them for supper and what I’m making us.”
“No, like flowers and you. The scent of your skin drives me crazy.” He dragged his lips across her ear. “Almost as crazy as how hot and sweet you taste between your thighs.”
“Carson McKay. Stop dirty talking me right now. I promised I’d cook for you first.”
He trapped her face in his hands. “Sugar, I’m not like—” your family, “—I don’t expect you to cook for me if you don’t want to.”
“Which is exactly why I want to do it.” She pecked him on the mouth. “I brought food with me, so if you’ll show me where you keep your cooking utensils?”
“I’ll warn ya, it’s a pretty humble selection.”
“I’ll make do.”
“Tell me whatcha need.”
Carolyn rattled off—a cast iron pan, a sharp knife, a cutting board, butter, salt, pepper and flour. Luckily he had everything.
“Want a beer or something while you’re workin’?”
“I’ll take a Coke if you’ve got one.”
Carson poured her soda on ice, grabbed a beer for himself and turned the radio on to the local country station.
He watched her work and they talked about their days while she fixed supper. It didn’t feel forced as it had other times women had offered to make him a home-cooked meal. It seemed natural and he imagined how heavenly it’d be coming home to her—and this—every night.
“Carson?” she prompted.
“Sorry. Lost in thought. What did you say?”
“I asked if you’re okay with me putting onions in this?”
He sipped his beer. “Depends on if the onions will keep you from kissin’ me tonight.”
She grinned. “Nope.”
“Then put ’em in.”
“Where’s your brother? I thought maybe I’d meet him.”
“He had plans.”
“Do you guys have any problems working together all day and then living together?”