Read Online Sunset at Keyhole Canyon: A Mustang Ridge Novella by Jesse Hayworth - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jesse Hayworth
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less fun.
After a boisterous meal, as the servers were clearing the tables and Krista and the others slipped away to finish setting up the bonfire, Traci lifted her beer in a toast. “To the Keyhole Canyon Gang. May we meet back here this time next year for another week of cattle thieving!”
That got a whoop and a ragged cheer, and Ben lifted his drink and clinked glasses with Traci across the table, and then with Nina beside him. Their eyes met at the same time as their glasses, and she winked. “To the Keyhole Canyon Gang.”
“To the Keyhole Canyon Gang,” he echoed, but inwardly, he added,
To meeting back here the same time next year
. And, realizing that his mind’s eye saw him and Nina arriving together, he smiled.
“What is that look for?” she asked, playfully nudging him with an elbow.
“I’m happy,” he said, and realized it was true. He wasn’t worried about tomorrow, wasn’t thinking about patients or politics. He was there, with her, enjoying the moment. Rising, he held out a hand. “Can I escort you to the dance?”
“Absolutely.” She let him pull her to her feet, and then stretched up on her toes, brushed her lips across his and whispered in his ear, “You can take me anywhere you’d like, cowboy.”
His pulse went off-kilter for a moment and his fingers tightened on her, pressing too hard. But then he eased up, eased back, and grinned. “Let’s start with dancing and see where we go from there.”
And boy, howdy, did they ever dance.
As the sun went down and the stars came out, and the bonfire grew from a small flame to a full-throated roar that threw heat in all directions, Ty played the guitar while Krista got the greenhorns dancing, only excusing them long enough to toast a marshmallow or two before chivvying them back into the pagan circle that formed around the huge fire.
The Chicken Dance and Hokey Pokey were raucous fun, the Macarena a cheesy memory of old times and wedding DJs, and the square dances were a whirl of instructions and music that dissolved into laughter as the dudes bumbled into each other. But best of all were the slow songs, the ones that gave Ben an excuse to pull Nina into his arms, mold their bodies together, and sway together, feet barely moving as he breathed in her scent, kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips.
As the night cooled around them, the air chilling quickly when they strayed beyond the bonfire’s radiance, their bodies got closer, their kisses longer, and he was aware that a few of the others had said their farewells and headed back to their cabins.
The firelight reflected on the rippling water of the lake, flickers of orange stretching up to touch the silvery disk of the moon with a natural simplicity that he wouldn’t see back home. Sure, there was moonlight back home, cast by the same moon, the same stars, but it was nothing like the wide-open Wyoming sky. One thing wasn’t going to change, though. He was bound and determined to make sure of it.
Nina. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, to keep her, to make things work with her.
The song ended, leaving him standing there with her in his arms, wishing the music would keep going.
“It’s getting late.” She arched a look up at him. “Going to walk me to my cabin, cowboy?”
“Not tonight.” Seeing the flash of hurt, he tightened his arms around her. “I shouldn’t. Not tonight.” Not when he wasn’t sure he would be able to walk away.
“Oh.” Comprehension flooded her features. “Oh. Um.” A sexy smile teased the corners of her lips. “Want to walk me to my cabin . . . and come inside?”
His body tensed with want, hardened with overwhelming temptation. But he heard the hesitation in her voice, saw the questions in her face, and knew it wasn’t the right answer.
Like their second kiss, they weren’t quite there.
“Next time,” he said in a low-voiced growl that turned it into a promise.
Her eyes widened, but after a moment, that secret smile played
After a boisterous meal, as the servers were clearing the tables and Krista and the others slipped away to finish setting up the bonfire, Traci lifted her beer in a toast. “To the Keyhole Canyon Gang. May we meet back here this time next year for another week of cattle thieving!”
That got a whoop and a ragged cheer, and Ben lifted his drink and clinked glasses with Traci across the table, and then with Nina beside him. Their eyes met at the same time as their glasses, and she winked. “To the Keyhole Canyon Gang.”
“To the Keyhole Canyon Gang,” he echoed, but inwardly, he added,
To meeting back here the same time next year
. And, realizing that his mind’s eye saw him and Nina arriving together, he smiled.
“What is that look for?” she asked, playfully nudging him with an elbow.
“I’m happy,” he said, and realized it was true. He wasn’t worried about tomorrow, wasn’t thinking about patients or politics. He was there, with her, enjoying the moment. Rising, he held out a hand. “Can I escort you to the dance?”
“Absolutely.” She let him pull her to her feet, and then stretched up on her toes, brushed her lips across his and whispered in his ear, “You can take me anywhere you’d like, cowboy.”
His pulse went off-kilter for a moment and his fingers tightened on her, pressing too hard. But then he eased up, eased back, and grinned. “Let’s start with dancing and see where we go from there.”
And boy, howdy, did they ever dance.
As the sun went down and the stars came out, and the bonfire grew from a small flame to a full-throated roar that threw heat in all directions, Ty played the guitar while Krista got the greenhorns dancing, only excusing them long enough to toast a marshmallow or two before chivvying them back into the pagan circle that formed around the huge fire.
The Chicken Dance and Hokey Pokey were raucous fun, the Macarena a cheesy memory of old times and wedding DJs, and the square dances were a whirl of instructions and music that dissolved into laughter as the dudes bumbled into each other. But best of all were the slow songs, the ones that gave Ben an excuse to pull Nina into his arms, mold their bodies together, and sway together, feet barely moving as he breathed in her scent, kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips.
As the night cooled around them, the air chilling quickly when they strayed beyond the bonfire’s radiance, their bodies got closer, their kisses longer, and he was aware that a few of the others had said their farewells and headed back to their cabins.
The firelight reflected on the rippling water of the lake, flickers of orange stretching up to touch the silvery disk of the moon with a natural simplicity that he wouldn’t see back home. Sure, there was moonlight back home, cast by the same moon, the same stars, but it was nothing like the wide-open Wyoming sky. One thing wasn’t going to change, though. He was bound and determined to make sure of it.
Nina. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, to keep her, to make things work with her.
The song ended, leaving him standing there with her in his arms, wishing the music would keep going.
“It’s getting late.” She arched a look up at him. “Going to walk me to my cabin, cowboy?”
“Not tonight.” Seeing the flash of hurt, he tightened his arms around her. “I shouldn’t. Not tonight.” Not when he wasn’t sure he would be able to walk away.
“Oh.” Comprehension flooded her features. “Oh. Um.” A sexy smile teased the corners of her lips. “Want to walk me to my cabin . . . and come inside?”
His body tensed with want, hardened with overwhelming temptation. But he heard the hesitation in her voice, saw the questions in her face, and knew it wasn’t the right answer.
Like their second kiss, they weren’t quite there.
“Next time,” he said in a low-voiced growl that turned it into a promise.
Her eyes widened, but after a moment, that secret smile played
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