Saddle Up(25)

“Coyotes are harmless enough,” he said. “They prey on mice and rabbits and rarely bother humans.” He rose and shouldered his rifle, reminding her all too much of Daniel Day Lewis’s Hawkeye in The Last of the Mohicans, her favorite epic romance. In that moment it was far too easy to cast herself as Cora Munro. She shook off the ludicrous thought.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To check on the horses.”

“But it’s not your turn yet,” she said.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m awake.”

She eyed the bedroll covetously, wondering if it would still be warm from his body.

“Go ahead,” he urged with a tilt of his head.

“But it’s technically still my watch,” she replied.

His brows furrowed. “Are you always so stubborn?”

“Not always,” she said.

“Then you just like to argue with me.”

“That’s not true!” she argued.

Their eyes met. He cocked a brow.

Caught in the act, she couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

He walked off, shaking his head and mumbling something she couldn’t understand.

*

Miranda was right about the horses. They were jumpy as hell, but after scouting the area twice, Keith found nothing. Damning the moonless night, he returned to the fire, laying the rifle within close reach. True to her stubborn nature, Miranda hadn’t taken his place but sat before the fire, cocooned in the blanket. So be it. Let the little fool freeze.

He sank back into his bedroll, turning onto his side to better see into the darkness. He watched her with a growing mix of fascination and frustration. Tall, pale, and slender, Miranda Sutton was nothing like the women he normally went for, but her earthy innocence called out to his carnal nature. His brows contracted. “What are you afraid of? Me or yourself?”

“Neither,” she snapped. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

He made a scoffing sound. “Liar. You’d rather freeze your ass off than share this bed with me. You make no sense, Miranda. I want you, and I believe you want me too. There’s no shame in a man and woman pleasuring each other. Making love is one of the most genuine acts of human nature.”

“You have a silver tongue, Keith, but that’s not what it would be. Making love is what you do with someone you have feelings for. Or at the least with someone you like and respect. Anything else is just a f*ck. I’m not your next f*ck.”

“Did you know that there are no vulgar words pertaining to sex in any of the native tongues?”

“Is that true?” she asked.

“Yes. We don’t defile the act with dirty words. In fact, we have no swearwords at all.”

“Yet you think it’s perfectly fine to randomly hop from partner to partner and bed to bed?”

“I didn’t say we accept promiscuity. We don’t. We call those kinds of people tepee creepers.”

“Tepee creepers?” She laughed. “Really?”

“Yes. Just because we view sex differently doesn’t imply that it’s meaningless. We believe just the opposite: that the joining of two bodies forges a deeper connection between their souls. There are no walls in the moment of release, Miranda.” He didn’t add that his walls always came back up following the afterglow.

“You really believe that?” she scoffed.

“Yes. Sometimes words are inadequate between a man and a woman. They obstruct the essential truth. Sex is honesty. Pleasure is truth.” Yet sex was really only a transitory escape from loneliness.

“Don’t play with me,” she whispered. “I don’t like games—or being the brunt of jokes.”

“You think I’m playing games?”

“I think I’m convenient. If we were anyplace else, you wouldn’t look twice at me.”

She was wrong. He had noticed her before, and she’d rebuffed him. The rejection had surprised as much as stung him.

“That’s not true,” he said. “Maybe you don’t remember the first time we met?”

“Yes, I remember all of it,” she answered.

“And?” he prompted.

“I didn’t trust you.”

“Why not? You thought I only wanted to use you?”

“Yes.”

“And now?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I don’t know. You made it obvious from the start that you didn’t want me around. I don’t understand the sudden turnabout. I’m not sure what I think.”

“As I said before, you think too much.”

*

Miranda was freezing cold, but she was also terrified. Of him. Of the feelings he’d roused in her.

He reached out his hand, beckoning softly. “Don’t be foolish, Miranda. Come and get warm.”

Tamping down her trepidations, she rose and settled herself lengthwise beside him. His arm came around her, wrapping her in his blanket, and instantly cocooning her in his body heat. He pulled her closer against him and nuzzled into her hair. “I don’t understand you at all, Miranda…but I like how you smell.”

She relaxed. “You do?”

“Yes. I do.” He burrowed into her neck, his breath hot and his lips soft. “Very much.”