Chapter 9

Beatrice

I don't know if Rock's appearance at our table is going to be good like Rosalind thinks or bad like Bessie thinks, but I take the moment when everyone's distracted to grab another pulled pork sandwich.

"I heard you were in South America, raping the land," Bessie tells Rock.

"All done," he says, his smile never faltering. "Land is thoroughly raped."

"Rock is a land developer," Cole explains.

Rock pats Cole's back. "Thank you, Sprinkles. See, Bessie? Land developer sounds so much better than land rapist."

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," Bessie says.

Rock arches an eyebrow and flashes his pearly whites at Olivia, who chokes on her spit and giggles like an idiot. Then he winks at me as I chomp down on my pork sandwich. He's very good-looking, but he doesn't elicit the same reaction that I get when I'm face to face with Cole. Maybe it's an allergy thing, where Cole affects my body on a cellular level.

Cole is my peanuts, soy, wheat allergy combo.

I glance over at him for a split second and shudder. I take another bite of my sandwich. I'm sort of pissed off that I have this kind of reaction to a man, but I can't help it. Still, I wish I had this reaction to weight training or a Zumba class instead. I finish the sandwich and look for something else to stuff in my face, but everything's gone except for the checkerboard tablecloth.

I feel Rosalind looking at me, and I look her way. She shakes her head, disapproving of my eating, which I assume is totally against all billionaire-hunting etiquette. Billionaire hunters probably only sniff food lightly and then do Pilates.

"How about we go see Tiffany and Holly in the barrel races? They've got a good shot at winning this year," Cole says and smiles at me.

Whoa. I nod vigorously and hop up from my seat. I'll go anywhere with you, I want to say. I'll follow you to the barrel racing. I'll follow you to the IRS, the proctologist's office, or anywhere. Oh, crap. I got it bad.

"Actually, Olivia and I have to get back to the room to discuss a business venture we've been contemplating," Rosalind says, grabbing Olivia's arm.

But Olivia slaps her away and continues to ogle Rock like he's a tall, blond Adonis. And of course, he is.

"Come on," Rosalind tells her between clenched teeth. But Olivia ignores her. She only has eyes for Rock.

"I think they're starting now," Cole says.

We walk as a group across the dusty fields toward the rodeo stands. Olivia trips twice because she's staring up at the back of Rock's head instead of watching where she's going, but Rosalind catches her both times. Cole gets us seats right up against the fence, and he stands, waiting for me to sit. When I do, Rock slips in quickly next to me and throws Cole a neener neener look that seems to make Cole's blood boil. I can see his jaw clench, and his hands are fists. I don't know what the story is between Cole and Rock, but I'm glad Rock is sitting next to me. I need the buffer so that I won't jump on Cole in front of the rodeo crowd. That might be embarrassing.

I take a couple of deep breaths and try to get hold of myself. What's wrong with me? I haven't managed to say two words to Cole, but my body is on high alert, ultra-horny mode.

"What's a beautiful woman like you doing in this dump?" Rock asks me. His hand touches my knee and stays there. What's happening? Did I throw my cupid's arrow at Cole and miss, hitting Rock squarely in his how-do-you-do?

"Uh," I say.

Olivia is sitting on my other side, and she leans over, sticking her head around me. "Beatrice is the event planner," she explains to Rock. "I'm..." She breaks off and suffers a bout of giggles. Rosalind pulls her back into her seat.

"So, what the hell are you doing here?" Cole asks Rock. "Not that I don't want you here, but I don't want you here."

Rock squeezes my knee. "He's always been jealous of me," he explains to me. "Ever since I won the spelling bee in second grade. And for other reasons," he adds and gives my knee another squeeze.

"Uh," I say. I'm full of witty repartee today.

"I before E, except after C," Olivia says and giggles, again.

"This is getting painful," Bessie says, sitting next to Cole. "I hope they do the bucking bull soon. I need some distraction from this mess."

As if the universe is at her beck and call, music blares through the speakers, and an announcer announces the start of the barrel racing. Rock sits back and takes his hand off my knee, placing it on the back of my chair. Olivia is still ogling him, and Rosalind is sitting with one leg crossed over the other, with one perfect shoe tapping the ground. I look to my left and catch Cole's eyes, staring at me. His with it, in control, master commander expression is gone for the first time since I met him. It's been replaced with his pissed off face, which is just as handsome but slightly more human.

My oozy, melty feeling returns, and all I want is Cole, Cole, Cole. I don't know why I'm so attracted to him, but I am. I'm powerless against it. It's like a disease, like being an addict or something.

"I think I need rehab," I tell Olivia, but she's still focused on Rock.

"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Rock asks me and then jumps in his seat. "Ow! Sonofabitch. What the..." He jumps again, this time out of his seat, and turns around, holding his right arm, just as Cole slips in to Rock's seat.

Cole arches an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side, throwing Rock the tiniest smile. Rocks squints back at him, as if he's at the DMV and the eye chart is glued to Cole's face.

"Interesting," Rock says, rubbing his arm. "First time Mr. Smooth ever lost his cool. I tip my hat to you, miss."

It takes me a moment to figure out what's going on. Something about Cole hating Rock's guts, especially because Rock is sitting next to me.

Oh.

Ohhhh...

Suddenly, I'm very happy. I smile at Cole, and he gives me his smoldering, inscrutable, billionaire alpha male look in return. It's a really good look. I like the look. A lot. I fantasize about seeing that look looking at me every morning and every evening for the rest of my life. Cole's smoldering look as I make him meatloaf. Cole's smoldering look as I ride with him in his private jet to Paris. Cole's smoldering look as I hold our first child in my arms.

Yep, that's a really good look.

But a warning bell goes off in my head, which reminds me that by his own admission, Cole's smoldering look only lasts for seven days. On one hand, those would be an awesome seven days. On the other hand, day eight would be miserable. Day nine wouldn't be so hot, either. Ditto days ten through forty-six, I'm assuming.

"You can sit down next to me," Olivia tells Rock, her face a bright light of awe and horniness. "Move. Move," she hisses at Rosalind. "Move."

It looks like I'm not the only woman on the hunt. Olivia's attraction has turned her sweet, introvert self into an aggressive kill-or-be-killed extrovert. If Rosalind doesn't move, she's toast. Rosalind catches on and stands, shuffling past Cole, and sits in the seat between Cole and Bessie.

She leans around Cole and looks at me. "If she gets pregnant, I give up."

"So, this is the main ring," Cole tells me. His mouth is almost touching my ear, and I can feel his breath hot on my skin, which ironically makes me shiver. "Our rodeo covers regular events like barrel racing, but we do other fun events like over there."

Gently, he takes my hand and lifts it up and points it toward our right. There, beyond the large ring is a smaller ring.

"Are those...?" I ask.

"Lawnmowers. Yep. They're going to race at the same time as the barrel racing."

As if on cue, the lawnmowers start up, making a racket, even over the noise of the rodeo. Cole lowers my arm, laying it on my lap. His hand pauses a moment before he lets mine go, and it's long enough to send electric shockwaves through me. Our eyes lock, and I can see his attraction for me in them. But nevertheless, I haven't heard from him in days, and I've already made the mistake of falling into the trap of men who want me only when I'm around. I have to change that MO and find a man who wants me all of the time, no matter how perfect he is.

"I haven't had a moment to see you lately, but I haven't stopped thinking of you," he says, as if he's reading my mind. "But I've cleared my schedule in hopes that we can spend time together until you have to leave."

"You've been thinking of me?"

He nods.

"Why?" I ask.

"Excuse me?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Why have you been thinking of me?"

Cole blinks, and his cool disappears. "Well, um, because..."

"There's Tiffany," Bessie interrupts, pointing at Tiffany, as she enters the ring on horseback. "And Holly. She must have eaten the entire Safeway this past year."

Tiffany and Holly ride around the ring once, but then Holly doubles over on her horse, which slows to a walk and wanders to the center of the ring.

Olivia leans forward. "Uh oh," she says.

"What? What?" I ask.

Holly looks confused, too. She cocks her head to the side and clutches her stomach with one hand.

"Yep. I've seen this before," Olivia says. "I mean, not at a rodeo, but you know what I mean."

I have no idea what she means.

Holly's mouth is set in a large O, and her eyes are moving in their sockets, like she's watching gnats fly around her head. The loudspeakers announce "Team Honky Tonk," and then a long list of Holly's and Tiffany's accomplishments as a team. Tiffany lifts her arm up and kicks her horse into a rehearsed spin and an impressive entrance, but she keeps looking back at Holly, who's still on her horse in the center of the ring, holding onto her stomach with an expression of "what the fuck" on her face.

Olivia claps her hands together once and stands. "Well, I guess I should go down there and help her out, since I'm so experienced with these things. You should probably call an ambulance, though," she says to Cole.

"There's an ambulance standing by," he tells her. "What's happening?" he asks me.

I shrug. I have no idea what's happening, but Olivia tells me to follow her, and I'm surprised when Cole follows me, following her. As we enter the ring, Cole signals someone to get the ambulance. When Olivia reaches Holly, Holly moans loudly and slips from the horse. Cole lunges forward and catches her, slowly lowering her to the ground.

"Are you all right?" he asks her.

"Ohhhhh!" she answers.

"A boy," Olivia says, kneeling by Holly's side. "I could give you hand-me-down clothes, but I'll probably get pregnant, again. A hundred more times, most likely."

"Wha-wha-wha-what are you talking about?" Holly demands and moans again.

"The way you're carrying. You're having a boy," Olivia says. "I'd bet my Uggs on it."

"I'm not pregnant!" Holly shouts, grabbing a fistful of Olivia's shirt. Then, she looks at Cole. "I'm not pregnant! Ohhhh!"

Olivia pats Holly's hand, which is still clutching her shirt. "A boy. Ninety-five percent certain."

"She says she's not pregnant," I tell Olivia.

"I'm not pregnant," Holly insists. "Oh my God, I feel like I have to push."

Luckily, just then the paramedics run across the ring toward us. Holly doubles over to push, and I step back. Way back. I don't want to be cowardly, but babies are supposed to be planned and born in a hospital with a doctor and nurses in a room with a closed door. There's supposed to be mommy yoga first and a baby shower. Then, an epidural.

A really big epidural.

"But I'm not pregnant!" Holly shouts.

"Well, something's coming out of your vagina," Olivia points out, now surrounded by paramedics. "You better hope it's a baby."

"I'll be back here if you need me," I say and back up into Holly's horse, who seems as nervous as I am. It's pawing the ground and walking backward, too. I grab its reins. "It's okay," I tell it, softly. "Circle of life."

The paramedics lift Holly onto a stretcher, and they walk her out of the ring, with Olivia holding Holly's hand. "Well, folks, it looks like Honky Tonk will soon be a three-person team," the loudspeakers announce. "Let's give Holly a big hand. This is a first for rodeos everywhere."

The audience erupts in applause, and Tiffany gallops around the ring. I realize that I'm standing alone in the center with only the horse and Cole, who stands over me in his cowboy glory, bestowing a knockout smile on me. He takes the reins from my hands and offers me his arm. I put my hand through it, and we walk toward the gate.

"That's a first," he says.

"I hope the baby is okay."

Cole's phone rings, and he answers it, as we walk the horse to the stables. He speaks for a few seconds and hangs up.

"Six pounds, seven ounces," he tells me. "A boy, just like your sister said. Mother is fine, despite being in shock." He shakes his head and whistles long and slow. "You think you've seen everything and then a woman gives birth while barrel racing. Here we are."

We walk into a compound of stables, which looks more like the entrance to Downton Abbey, but with indoor plumbing and a kickass sound system, filtering in relaxing classical music. Each stall has a gorgeous horse in it and dozens of horse people waiting on their every want and need, again, just like Downton Abbey. I feel like I should be speaking in an English accent.

It smells like horse, but the comparison stops there. The stalls are painted a beautiful white, and the floors are handcrafted cobblestone. It's clean, clean, clean. We stop in the middle of a stable, and Cole hands the reins to one of the horse people and turns to me. "Do you like horses?"

"Are these horses? I thought it was the Crawleys. Hello, Lady Mary. Give 'em hell, Lady Sybil. Whatever you do, don't trust your dad with the finances."

"You've lost me," Cole says.

"Sorry. PBS junkie. I mean, I was before my television was stolen."

Cole is doing that thing again where his pores shoot out pheromones and hit me with amazing accuracy in my pelvic region. He's crazy sexy. Thank goodness Michelangelo isn't alive, or he would take one look at Cole and throw away his hammer and chisel because how could he ever make a sculpture that could compare to Cole's perfection.

So not fair. I can't think straight when I'm around him. My voice doesn't sound the same, and my eyesight is off because my pupils are constantly dilated. I should at least get the special sunglasses they give out at the eye doctor when I'm around him. And some kind of pheromone armor that deflects his charm, too.

I'm confused about the Operation Billionaire strategy in this situation. Do I welcome Cole's hotness and jump all over him and to hell with the consequences, or do I play hard to get, stay far away from his charms, go back to work, and start saving for a waffle-maker?

He steps forward, and I back up until I'm up against a stable door. "Your television was stolen?" he asks me, concerned.

"My boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, I mean. He cleared me out. Usually they stop at the appliances and leave the furniture, but he really liked the sofa, and after that I guess it all matched, and... why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like how?"

"Like you're inking my name into your agenda for the next seven days."

Cole arches an eyebrow and nods. "Clever lady. My thoughts were going in that direction."

I sigh.

"You're don't want me to have those thoughts?" he asks.

I really want him to have those thoughts. I'm having the same thoughts. But I'm worried that after seven days, I'd rather he steal my appliances than forget about me.

"I don't want you to have those thoughts," I say. "And I know exactly what kind of thoughts you're having. You want to hide the salami."

"Hide the salami?"

"And beat the sheets, do the nasty, bone, score, screw, shag, piddle, tap my ass, make the back with two beasts, hizzit the skizzins, horizontal bob, horizontal mambo, horizontal refreshment, bump uglies, bump fuzzies, bump nasties, get it on, get laid, get lucky, get, get, get, and not give anything."

Cole seems to think about that for a second. "I'm pretty sure I'm not thinking about piddle, and I like getting, but I love giving."

"Oh," I say. My mouth is dry, and I barely get the sound out. I can't think straight. There's a certain magic in chemistry, and between Cole and me, it's David Copperfield disappears the Statue of Liberty kind of chemistry.

Cole leans in, and I turn around suddenly to catch my breath and clear my head. I come face to face with a large black horse. It stomps its feet, and moves its head up and down, and its eyes are darting back and forth. "Shhh," I say. I put my hand on its neck and apply some pressure. The horse stops stomping and steps toward me. I put my other hand on its neck. "Shh," I repeat. The horse calms, and after a moment, it takes a step back, and I put my hands down.

"How do you know how to that?" Cole asks me. I turn around and look up into his eyes.

"Do what?"

"This horse was rescued from some of the worst conditions I've ever seen. He's got severe PTSD, and we've been using a grounding technique to help him slow down and stop panic attacks."

"What's a grounding technique?"

Cole smiles. "It's what you just did. Do you have experience with horses?"

"Not really. I just sensed it was upset, and I just went with my instinct."

He searches my face for something. "I have my answer now."

"Your answer?"

"You asked me before why I couldn't stop thinking about you." He puts his arms around my waist and pulls me in tight against him. "I didn't answer you before. You were right about the sex. I want to have sex with you very badly. I want you in my bed, Beatrice Hammersmith. Hell, I want you everywhere. Anywhere. I want you now, and I've wanted you since the first moment I spotted you, the greatest thing of beauty that's ever walked on my ranch. So, yes, my body has burned for you. But the reason I can't stop thinking of you, the reason I stay up at night with you on my brain, is that you make me think about the world differently."

"I do?" I croak. He's close, tantalizingly close. I can feel his body heat through his clothes, his erection pressing on my belly, and I know that his words about wanting me are true.

"A man doesn't get to my position without being damned sure of himself. It takes a lot for me to change my mind, let alone my world view."

"It does?" I've lost all ability for smart, witty conversation. I'm a one syllable, two tops, girl around Cole Stevens, billionaire stud muffin, when he's looking at me like I'm the steak special and he hasn't eaten for a week.

"But you come into my life, and my worldview gets tossed on its head. I see everything through your eyes. Your beautiful, exquisite blue eyes. I could drown in your eyes."

"I've come into your life?"

Cole smiles and puts his hands on the sides of my head and tips it back. "You've come into it and changed it forever," he says and presses his lips against mine, capturing my mouth with a strong urgency, as if I'm about to run away.

But I'm not about to run away. I want to kiss him forever. His tongue touches mine and ignites my body like a match to a candle. I wrap my arms around his waist and step even closer to him. But I'm still too far away from him. My clothes feel heavy, and I'm desperate to get rid of them, and while I do that I want to get rid of his, too. I won't be happy until we're skin on skin, and even closer still.

I'm tired of being only one person. I need to be two. Beatrice and Cole.

I'm aware of the people walking in the stable, but my desire outweighs my sense of propriety and shame. I want Cole any way I can get him. But the staff at Cole's stables aren't going to see me naked today because even though, like the kids say, Cole is sporting wood, he's got his wits about him, and he breaks off the kiss before we become a country-themed porn movie.

He takes my hand, and we walk out. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"I'm taking you home."

"To the inn."

"No. To my home."

The big house. The manor. The mansion ranch house. I've heard a lot about it, but I don't know anybody who's seen the inside of it. But there are rumors. Something about an indoor Olympic-sized pool and a gold dining room set and robots that do the cleaning.