another word, I shut the door in his face.
Chapter Seven
From the shadows of the living room window, I watched as Cowboy strolled out to his truck, climbed inside, and drove away. My fingers feathered across my lips, still numb from the searing kiss we’d shared minutes before. A moment of closeness that had derailed me mentally, as well as physically…and yet, he’d barely even touched me.
But why had he touched me? And more importantly, why had he stopped?
As his taillights faded into the night, I took a ragged breath, closed my eyes, and wished for… What exactly? For him to come back? For him to have never shown up at all? I wasn’t really sure. Or maybe I was and just wasn’t willing to admit it to myself.
Regardless, I couldn’t rationalize my behavior in a logical manner. Not when it had been nothing more than a self-indulgent whim. A fantasy, really. Clearly, the emotional cocktail of fear, need, wanting, and loneliness had played a giant role in me making such a poor, thoughtless decision.
I released the curtain, letting it fall back in place over the window as I plopped down on the couch and folded my legs under me. A frustrated breath escaped my lips. What the hell was I thinking, allowing him to kiss me, to touch me? It was Cowboy, damn it. I knew better than that.
Sure, ten years ago, I’d longed for him to notice me and look at me the way he did other girls. But he hadn’t, and with good reason. I wasn’t like those other girls. And now he’d undoubtedly seen that for himself.
Obviously, it had been a bad idea from the start, even if I’d seen some hidden layers to Cowboy, which made it harder to dismiss the strong, irrefutable attraction I felt toward him.
But that was one slippery slope I wasn’t willing to climb. He may have kissed me senseless once, but if I had any brain cells left, I’d stay as far away from him as possible.
Then I sighed. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he’d left. Oh, hell. Who was I kidding? I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since camp ten years ago.
In an effort to shake all lustful thoughts of Cowboy from my mind, I busied myself by cleaning up the kitchen. But as I picked up the teacup from the table, I remembered how tiny it had looked in his large, masculine hands. The same hands he’d gripped my thighs with as he… Holy hell. What was the matter with me?
Figuring I needed a change of scenery to clear my mind, I strolled back to the living room, where I dusted and rearranged my bookshelves. I thought it was working until I caught myself organizing the titles by which male on the cover looked most like Cowboy. Damn him and his perfectly handsome, stupid face.
I needed to find something to keep me from thinking about that man. If it was even possible.
Frustrated, I planted myself at the computer desk and pushed the button to make the monitor light up. Unsure as to what I was doing, I cleared my mind and typed the first name I thought of into a search engine and hit enter. Thousands of returns popped onto the screen for Ned Swanson.
At the very least, it would definitely keep me busy. And help Cowboy in the process. Though he didn’t seem to be the type to ask for help. But research was my thing. I worked in a library for goodness sakes. If I couldn’t find the chief’s brother for…a certain person—one who would remain nameless—then no one could.
It wasn’t going to be an easy feat, that was for sure. But as I sat there clicking and typing my way into an oblivious stupor, my mind settled and focused on the task at hand.
Hours later, I lifted my head off the desk and rubbed my eyes. I must’ve dozed off because it was suddenly three o’clock in the morning. I hadn’t found Ned Swanson, but I had some good leads to follow up on.
I turned off the computer screen and was heading to the bedroom when a clanging noise echoed outside my kitchen window. Raccoons were always trying to get into my trash cans, so I opened the front door, flipped on the flood lights, and stepped out onto the porch, hoping to scare them away.
But what I saw had the opposite effect.
A shadowy figure—a man, judging by