Two in the Saddle

“How about Your Royal Pain in the Ass?” Travis grinned. “That comes real easy.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “When I throw the garter, I’m aiming for you, hotshot. You need a woman to trim your wick. Now get your butt in there.”

“Shortly.”

“Insubordination already.” Sebastian sighed and went back inside the tent.

Travis figured he’d stall around outside and appear at the tail end of the garter-throwing. He wasn’t overly superstitious, but a guy couldn’t be too careful.

He’d thought about marriage, more than he’d ever admit to Sebastian, and he’d reasoned out that it was too complicated given his present circumstances. A promise was a promise, and he’d made a huge one to his dad before the old man died six years ago. Travis intended to honor that promise and take care of his mother, who depended on him something fierce.

She managed okay during the summer months, when she could walk to the little country store down the road from their place. In the winter, though, when the snow was up to her armpits, she needed Travis there to shovel the walkways and drive her where she had to go.

No one in this valley knew anything about his life in Utah, and that’s the way he liked it. If folks around here thought he was a devil-may-care playboy, that was fine with him. But the truth was that keeping his mother healthy and happy took all of his resources. He couldn’t imagine having enough energy left for a wife.

GWEN HADN’T PLANNED to take part in the bouquet tossing, but Matty had informed her it was obligatory. So she moved to the back of the crowd of women, figuring Matty wouldn’t heave the thing that far.

As the women stood there laughing and joking, Matty turned her back and sent the flowers sailing…right over everybody’s head. Gwen was forced to leap up and snag it or the beautiful bouquet would have landed on the floor. For a split second she considered letting that happen, but that would have created an awkward moment. With skills learned on the volleyball court as a kid, she pulled down the prize.

Everybody in the room cheered, and Gwen stood there holding the bouquet and feeling like a doofus. She was immensely grateful when the attention returned to Matty for the garter removal ceremony.

Amid a chorus of wolf whistles, Matty propped one foot on a chair and pulled back her skirt.

Sebastian quickly and efficiently divested her of the garter. Twirling it neatly around one finger, he turned toward the circle of men. “Show’s over, gents. And let that be the last whistle I hear any of you aim in my wife’s direction. Comprende?”

“Killjoy!” called out one of the cowboys.

“No, husband,” Sebastian replied with a dangerous-looking smile. “Now, where the hell’s Evans?”

Gwen glanced around and realized that Travis hadn’t come back in with Sebastian. She’d seen the two men head outside. Embarrassingly enough, she’d been aware of every move Travis had made that night. None of them had been in her direction.

“Evans?” one of the men said with a laugh. “You’ll never get that ol’ boy within twenty feet of a wedding garter. Toss that thing my way, Daniels. I could use another dance with the Maid of Honor.”

“Not if I get to that lace thingamajig first,” said the cowboy next to him.

“You’ll have to get past me,” said a third man.

Gratifying as it was to have men squabbling over the right to dance with her, Gwen couldn’t work up a smidgen of enthusiasm for any of them. And damn, but she wished she could. They were nice guys, steady guys.

Apparently she hadn’t meditated enough on the dangers of being attracted to a rogue. The only man in the vicinity who held her interest was the last man she should spend time with. Fortunately he was still outside and wasn’t in the running for the garter.

“I guess we’ll have to do this without Evans,” Sebastian said. “And watch those elbows. I’d like to think we’re all gentlemen here,” he added with a grin.

“I’d like to think so, too, but I don’t,” said the first cowboy. “And that garter’s mine.”

“May the best man win.” Sebastian aimed the garter into the air like a slingshot.

“Somebody called?” Travis stepped into the tent.

“Now that’s cutting it close,” Sebastian muttered as he let the garter fly.

Gwen knew Travis had amazing reflexes. He could rope and tie a calf faster than anybody in the valley, and he wasn’t shy about saying so. But the lightning moves he demonstrated as he snatched the garter out of the air left the women gasping and the men swearing.

“What’d you do that for?” complained Jason Litchfield, a lanky cowhand who’d been hitting on Gwen all night. “Everybody knows you’re not lookin’ to get tied down, and catching that thing means you’ll be the next one hitched.”

Travis shrugged and tucked the garter in his pocket as he started toward Gwen. “Maybe, maybe not. But I’ve been wanting to dance with the maid of honor all night, and you boys have been keeping her so busy, I haven’t been able to get close.”

Gwen stood frozen in place, her heart beating like a rabbit’s. There would be no baby between them this time.

Just before Travis reached her, Sebastian came over and clapped him on the back. “Congratulations on catching that garter. It would do my heart good to see you finally settle down with the right woman.”

Travis glanced at him. “It’ll take more than a garter to get me to the altar, buddy.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.” Sebastian winked at Gwen. “But it’s a start. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find the previous owner of that garter and take her for a turn around the floor.”

Travis gazed at Gwen. Then he swept out an arm and bowed. “May I have this dance?”

“I guess so.” She put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. Just the casual interlacing of their fingers quickened her breath. “You worked hard enough for it.”

“Piece of cake. Hand-eye coordination has always been easy for me.”

“And you’re so modest about it, too.”

He chuckled and swung her into his arms.

She rested the hand holding the bridal bouquet on his shoulder, and with every swirl of the waltz step, the fragrance of roses and lavender drifted around them, toying with her senses. She’d expected an aggressively sexual man like Travis to pull her in close and get all the body contact he could manage. Instead he kept several inches between them, guiding her with a firm hand at her waist while cupping her right hand gently, yet expertly, in his.

But once again, he held her captive with his gaze. And Travis could do more with his eyes than any man she’d ever met. She’d danced with many partners tonight, and all of them had pulled her in tight, blatantly announcing their sexual interest with their bodies. Not one of them had made her sizzle.

She was sizzling now. The spot where Travis pressed the small of her back became an erogenous zone, sending arousing signals to every part of her body. His eyes seduced her, inviting her to imagine making love with him. His rhythmic skill on the dance floor hinted at his legendary skill in the bedroom.

She’d heard the whispered rumors about Travis, and her imagination filled in the rest. She guessed that he was the kind of lover women dreamed of in their deepest, most erotic moments. The kind even she had dreamed of, but never planned to have.

Because he was dangerous. He could break her heart so that it would never heal. And yet…he could make her secret fantasies come true, teach her things about her own sensuality that no other man could. But he would not stay. He would never stay.

The silence between them became heavy with unspoken desire. She struggled to break the spell. “I’m amazed you went for the garter,” she said. “I guess you’re not superstitious.”

“I am sort of superstitious.” His grip at her waist tightened a fraction. “But this looked like the only way I was going to get another dance with you. I decided it might be worth tempting fate.”

She swallowed. “And is it?”

“Oh, I think it will be.” His glance swept her face, slid down her throat, settled for a second longer than was polite on her breasts. Then he returned his gaze to her eyes. Hunger flickered there as he drew her a bare inch closer, so that the bodice of her dress brushed the front of his tux shirt, catching lightly on the pearl studs with each movement.

The contact was faint, subtle. Yet her nipples tightened and her breathing grew labored.

“Is that bed and breakfast of yours full?” he murmured.

“Why?” She had to keep her head. “Are you angling for personal service?”