Down Home Cowboy. Maisey Yates

Not even remotely the same as the reasons she had hooked up with guys when she was in high school, why she had married Jared. That hadn’t ever been about physical desire, unfortunately.

      That had been about her pathetic need to feel loved by someone. Anyone. In whatever shape that love would take.

      This was different. She didn’t want Cain to love her. She had wanted him to press her down on that couch and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.

      She took another gulp of wine.

      It was difficult to figure out, right then, why kissing him would have been a bad idea. Why letting him lay her down on the couch and drive them both crazy would be such a terrible thing.

      He was gorgeous. Like, honestly the hottest guy she had ever seen. She had never before wanted a guy just because she wanted him. Because she wanted to feel his hands on her skin. Because she wanted sex, not some kind of connection. Not some kind of solution to that howling, empty thing inside of her.

      She wasn’t empty now. She had her bakery. She had all of the women that she had helped so far, and the women she was helping now. She had a good group of friends. She had her own apartment that she kept in exactly the manner she wanted.

      She bought the kind of wine she liked and the kind of food she enjoyed. She no longer had to cook dinner promptly at five o’clock or face the possible ramification of having a dinner plate thrown at her head if it was too cold, or if she had done something wrong.

      She could eat at eight if she wanted to. And she could cook whatever she wanted. Or she could go to a restaurant.

      Yes, her life was in an entirely different place now than it had been a few years ago. She was a different person. Or, more accurately, she was the person that she should have been all along.

      Too bad that person was starting to want sex.

      She closed her eyes and thought back to that moment Cain had looked at her. The way he had touched her. The problem was, she wanted sex, and not an entanglement. It seemed to her that Cain’s life was a giant entanglement right now. Particularly with her own.

      He was definitely the wrong person to experiment with. What she needed was an actual stranger. A man who would be in town only for a night. Someone she couldn’t possibly have any obligation to. Somebody whose life she couldn’t get drawn into.

      She didn’t trust men, that much was true. But even more, she didn’t trust herself.

      She wasn’t going to involve herself quite so personally in Violet’s affairs. Not anymore. She would not be taking any more trips up to the ranch. She needed to get some distance between herself and Cain Donnelly, that much was certain. Otherwise she was going to make a very bad decision that she would regret later.

      Sure, it might be much later. After the heat and fire in her skin had abated to a slow burn. But, regret it she would.

      She had too much regret in her life already. She wasn’t in the market for more.

      * * *

      CAIN REACHED THE top of the stairs and wished he had brought a bottle of whiskey up with him. And his brothers—damn them—were never around when he wanted them to be. They’d all gone out, and there had been no buffer between himself and Violet.

      The night had been a disaster. Violet had ended up angry with him because Alison had left, and she had blamed him. Not incorrectly, but he wasn’t going to explain to his teenage daughter exactly what had happened.

      Better to let her think he’d been unfriendly than...too friendly.

      But all of this had resulted in an extremely sullen meal, followed by her storming off to her room a couple of hours ago.

      He had done what he always did. He ignored it. He stayed downstairs until he was ready to collapse, and now he was headed to bed. He sighed heavily.

      What he really wanted to do, more than anything, was call up Alison. Say screw responsibility and pass out after having an orgasm, instead of passing out after drinking too much. Alone.

      But he couldn’t do that. First of all, because Alison had been the one to pull away from him—almost like she was afraid of him—before she had run out the door like she was most definitely afraid of him.

      Also, because running away from home to go get laid while his daughter was pissed off at him was probably not the most adult or responsible thing to do. Of course, he’d just about had it with responsibility.

      Still, there were no vacations from it when you had a child. Even if that child was close to being an adult, as Alison had so irritatingly pointed out to him earlier.

      That pissed him off.

      That she was right, mostly. That it didn’t erase the fact that he felt like he’d done the right thing earlier going in and trying to smooth things over for Violet, because she had obviously needed him to.

      Alison was coming at it from the point of view of a boss, as somebody who helped people with training and independence and stuff. He just wanted his daughter to look at him like he wasn’t horrible.

      He looked down the hall, toward Violet’s room. Maybe he had to talk to her. Maybe this whole giving her her space thing wasn’t the answer. He was so hesitant to make more waves, but it didn’t seem to be working.

      Maybe he needed to make some waves. Maybe, in that way, Alison was right. Maybe he needed to push Violet harder, expect more from her.

      He began to walk toward his room, then redirected. Tonight. They were going to talk tonight. He wasn’t going to tolerate any more of this silent treatment. He wasn’t going to accept any more of this being frozen out. No. It ended now.

      He stopped in front of her door, hesitated for a moment and then knocked. There was no answer. “Violet?” He knocked again. Nothing.

      Immediately, the image of her having some kind of medical episode flashed into his brain. Even if he had no idea what kind of medical episode it might be. He could see her, in his mind’s eye, crumpled on the floor, unable to answer him or move for some reason. He pushed the door open, fully unreasonable panic rioting through him.

      And the bedroom was empty.

      Her window was open. Up on the second floor.

      “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He made his way over to the window, looked out, looked down. And he didn’t see anything. Didn’t see anyone. He had no idea where she could be, who she would have gone with. He didn’t even know why she would sneak out.

      Suddenly, he felt like an idiot. Of course, he had imagined that she was hurt, or sick, or something. It had never occurred to him that she might sneak out. He didn’t think she knew anyone here in Copper Ridge, but he didn’t know that for certain. Of course he didn’t. He had never asked. He assumed that she was always texting friends back home, but for all he knew she was texting other kids here.

      He didn’t know how many other times she had done this. He didn’t know what she was doing.

      He tore back downstairs. “Finn!” He realized that his brother might already be upstairs, and he should have rattled some doors up there.

      Alex came out of the living room, Liam following close behind. And Finn came down the stairs behind him. Finn was only half-dressed, and was likely coming from bed where Cain was reasonably certain his brother had left Lane.

      “What’s up?” Finn asked.

      “Violet’s gone.”

      “What?” Finn asked, immediately looking concerned.

      “What do you mean gone?” Alex asked.

      “I mean I opened her bedroom door to check on her, and it looks like she climbed out the window. I don’t know where the hell she could be. I didn’t even know she knew anyone here.”

      “Damn,” Liam said. “I guess things haven’t changed very much since I was in high school.”