Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,47
now. If I could, I’d do it forever.”
“That’s a lot of travel. Almost a year of travel.”
His jaw hardened. “That’s what I like.” His voice had grown flinty as well. “I enjoy being out on the road. I enjoy the camaraderie of other cowboys.”
“And girls,” she muttered.
“Oh yeah,” he agreed, with a provocative smile. “Can’t forget the girls.”
Erika glowered, so over him. “I’m going to take Beck for a walk,” she said curtly. “You’re not invited.”
They got through the rest of the day with minimal conversation. Billy slept much of the afternoon, and when Beck napped, Erika worked on her dissertation. Beck took a long nap today and she was able to get some solid work done, and still have time for a long hot bath in the tub in the guest bathroom.
Dinner was provided for them that night by a kind neighbor who had left the spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and salad on the doorstep. It was all still warm and so nothing needed to be heated.
Billy had been the one to let her know that dinner was on the front doormat, and she just nodded and brought everything in.
She was still annoyed with him, and he seemed just as annoyed with her.
Good. The mutual frustration should help her cope with the lust feelings, effectively dousing some of his potent charm.
After dinner, Billy did his best to clean up using just his right hand, without bending too much. She let him clean up, too. If he was as tough as he said, and that enamored with his sport, then he could suffer through the minimal dishes.
She was sitting on the couch with Beck, giving Beck a last bottle for the night, when Billy asked if she’d like a cup of tea or anything.
It was the first time they’d spoken since she’d served dinner. “I’d love a cup,” she said, as the evenings in Utah always grew cool. “As long as it’s herbal, or decaf.”
He brought her a mug of tea, the mug featuring a cowboy with the words, WORLD’S HOTTEST COWBOY, and she looked up at him, eyebrow arched. “Really?”
He smiled that slow, wicked, sexier-than-sin smile of his. “Just wanted to remind you.”
Erika laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.”
“Ahem. That’s not a compliment.”
He eased into his armchair. “You know, my mom always used to say the same thing.”
“About being impossible?”
“But I think she secretly liked it. I was the one who made her smile. Mom has a tendency to be serious. It gave me pleasure knowing I could get her to laugh when no one else could. Laughter’s important.”
“It is important.” Erika drew the bottle from Beck’s lips and set it down. “You are important. You want to live a long life, just like your granddad. You want to be here for Beck’s kids one day. That won’t happen if you get gored or rolled on too many times.”
“I appreciate your concern,” he answered. “I’m being sincere, too. It’s nice to know you care.”
“I’m thinking of Beck.”
“You can like me a little bit, Erika. It’s okay.”
*
Billy watched as soft pink color stained her cheeks, and she bit down into her lower lip, working it over as she did whenever she was nervous.
He wanted to be the one sucking on that lip. He wanted to feel her pressed against him. He’d wondered how she’d react if he brushed his lips across the curve of her cheek and the soft bow of her upper lip.
He’d liked the way her brow creased ever so slightly as if she didn’t quite know what to do with him. He liked the uncertainty in her eyes that always reminded him of green turquoise. She had little flecks of gold and black against the green, the gold darker than her honey hair and arched eyebrows.
There was no doubt Erika was beautiful and smart and way too good for him, but every woman needed affection and it crossed his mind that it might have been a long time since she’d been shown affection. Since she’d been thoroughly, and properly, kissed. Loved.
Maybe it was a good thing he was still so broken and sore, because it limited his ability to move, severely curtailing his seduction skills. If he was going to take her to his bed, he’d do it properly, not half-assed. She needed hours of foreplay, and that required skill, and mobility. At least he had a goal, besides getting back to work.
“I do like you,” she said crisply. “I wouldn’t be here if