Wyoming Wildflowers: The Beginning Read Online Free Page B

his dry words. “Used to do some bronc riding — bare and saddle. A little steer wrestling. But as my mom says, there’s not much difference between getting thrown from a bronc and throwing yourself off a perfectly good horse to wrestle a steer. Mostly I focus on roping events.”
    “Your mom,” she repeated, ignoring broncs, getting thrown, or wrestling a steer. All of which sounded disturbingly dangerous.
    Not that mothers weren’t.
    “Yeah. She’s something else. Third-generation Wyoming. Grew up on a ranch. Knows more about horses and cattle than any other ten people. Dad always says he knew marrying her meant marrying a herd, too. She’d like you.”
    “How on earth can you know that?” A ranch woman like Mrs. Currick was far more likely to see a singer-dancer with Broadway aspirations as flighty, if not a downright floozy. Maybe she could win her over —
    What
?
Wait
. What was she doing, thinking of winning over this unknown woman?
    “She’d like you because I do,” Ed said.
    She looked into the gray heat of his eyes and her mental protest evaporated to nothing. No, not to nothing. It converted to steam. Steam that filtered through her bloodstream and pooled in her lungs, consuming all her oxygen. Until she gasped to draw in more.
    Just as she did, he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers.
    It was a gentle kiss, undemanding. He seemed careful not to crowd her with his greater height and size.
    A mouth against a mouth. That’s all.
    All
. . . Yes, that’s what it was. All. All of her. All of him. All of the universe.
    He was the universe, surrounding her. His presence and the mingled scent of warm man and cold air rippled around her, while drawn-in breaths brought the tastes and scents of him inside her.
    She wanted to step into him, to refuge against him.
    She wanted to open her mouth, to taste the promised heat.
    She wanted to touch him, to feel the faint lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the strength promised by those shoulders.
    She wanted . . .
    She wanted
.
    With a gasp that came as much from shock as oxygen deprivation, she stepped back.
    “I’ve got to . . . I should . . . ” She gestured over her shoulder to the hotel’s entry. “Go inside.”
    “We’re going the same way.”
    “Oh. Yes. Of course.”
    He held the door, then followed her in and to the elevator, where he pressed the up button. Her heartbeat went from the lightest high-hat flutter straight to bass drum. She stood beside him. Silent. Unable to say anything, think anything.
    The elevator came, the door sliding open, the car yawning before her. Them. He urged her forward with his warm hand at the small of her back — warmth so vivid that even through coat, sweater, and shirt she could pinpoint each cell experiencing it.
    Only when she was inside and turned to face the door did she realize he hadn’t followed her.
    “Good night, Donna.”
    “Good night, Ed.”
    The door slid closed. The lurch as the elevator rose explained her wobbly knees. But what explained the wide-eyed look of . . .
shock
? that stared back from the door’s polished metal surface?

CHAPTER THREE
    Thursday night
     
    Three of the girls tumbled into the room she shared with Lydia, demanding to know all about “The Cowboy.”
    “Rancher,” she said.
    “Looked like you were having a good time,” Lydia said. “Talking and laughing.”
    “Uh-huh.” She answered absently, preoccupied by the realization of how easily they’d talked. On the walk back, the few silences had been relaxed and comfortable.
    Except for the silence when they’d kissed. Definitely not relaxed.
    “Talk about what a man should look like — yum,” Raeanne said.
    “Just those shoulders. Those are something a girl could sink her teeth into.”
    “Please, MaryBeth, don’t tell us those details,” Lydia begged.
    “Totally wasted on Donna, of course,” said Nora.
    Ignoring the decidedly wasp-tongued Nora made life easier, so Donna didn’t dispute the comment.