Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

It was like a seal upon my heart, marking it only for her.

  But that kiss at the mine… I couldn’t stop myself. The way her body had been pressed against me. The part of her lips. The heat in her eyes. And the way my body threatened to implode if I didn’t get a taste.

  It was a mistake. Tally couldn’t even bring herself to be my friend, there was no way the desire I tasted on her tongue was real. It was a figment of a mind that finally had everything it ever wanted within reach.

  She didn’t want me like that. She just wanted pretend. And, hell, all I thought I wanted was to come clean about the past, to ask her forgiveness, and to have her friendship again. I thought I could keep my attraction to her in the past.

  I couldn’t.

  Turned out, parts of me wanted much more than friendship and forgiveness. And it was all the parts of me that had hurt her in the first place.

  “I’m fine.” She swayed against me as she spoke, still wearing the same defensive stance she’d had when we left the group.

  I didn’t respond, tightening my arm around her waist and my lips into a thin line. It was hard to ignore the way she felt against me. My fingertips slid from the waist of her tight jeans up to the horizon of her skin underneath her cropped tee, warm and soft, like an alluring sunset.

  And my dick turned rock solid.

  Biting back a groan, I cursed myself for desiring a woman who was partially high and definitely sick from ingesting peyote. Apparently, there wasn’t much of anything that could deter the way I wanted her.

  “You’re not.” I sighed, lifting her into the front seat of my truck.

  “Did you pick Mee-Maw up from her class?” she murmured as I drove us up the tiny roads back to the small apartment building.

  “Yeah.” I left out that we’d come from the same place since Mee-Maw taught classes at my store.

  “Always looking out for everyone,” she mumbled with a hint of frustration.

  I pulled up in front of the apartment building and threw my truck into park.

  “Dammit, Tally,” I swore, hopping down and rushing around to the other side of the truck but not before she was already out of the cab and stubbornly swaying her way to the entrance.

  My hands waited like airbags, ready to spring to life at the first sign of danger as we climbed the stairs and made it into Mee-Maw’s apartment.

  “I’m fine, Sam.” She whipped to me as soon as I crossed the threshold.

  “You’re not fine,” I swore. “Peyote is strong. Dangerous. Carlos is a fucking idiot to do something—” I didn’t have to argue any more, her moonlight-pale skin turned ashen and her gaze widened, truth hitting as hard as the second wave of nausea.

  “Sam…” Her breath slipped out and she clutched her stomach.

  Grunting, I lifted her by the waist and carried her the few feet into the bathroom. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she was on her knees. I just managed to grab ahold of her hair before she was puking again—safely—into the toilet.

  Kneeling beside her, my fingers secured her hair while my other hand rubbed slow circles on the exposed skin of her lower back.

  She tried to run from me. I tried to set her free. But she always ended up back in my arms.

  “I’m going to kill him,” she groaned, heaving again; if there was any of the brownie—or anything—left in her stomach, it was gone now.

  Reaching up, I pulled the tie out of my hair, the long strands falling over my shoulders and used it to secure Tally’s hair.

  “You’ll have to get in line.” Keeping one hand tethered to her, I reached for a washcloth and cranked on the sink, soaking it through with cool water.

  “No. I’m first in line,” she insisted, always defiant, and then heaved again. “Why did he say that? About the Navajo not liking ghosts?”

  I stared at my fingers that traced circles into her skin like tribal tattoos.

  “The Navajo have a high fear of death and not a…positive view of any kind of afterlife. Some more than others, but I knew a few on the reservation who wouldn’t even utter the name of a deceased, afraid it would bring their spirit back to haunt them,” I told her softly.

  “Did you?” She glanced at me. “When your dad died.”

  My body thrummed, the topic treading dangerously close to the territory line she made me swear not to cross.

  “I tried not to, but not because I was afraid of his ghost,” I replied, my voice taut, and then redirected the conversation back to the beliefs of my people. “The Navajo believe in hohzo which is like a cosmic order of the universe that they try to keep in balance in order to live a happy life; they don’t dwell on what comes after.”

  “What do you believe?” Tally let out a pained moan, holding her stomach once more, but this time the wave passed without making her vomit.

  “I believe actions have consequences, whether it’s in this life or another. And I think those actions—those choices are more likely to haunt you than someone’s spirit,” I rasped, sliding my hand up to rub the back of her neck.

  She hummed in appreciation, and I wished I could do more.

  “There can’t have been much in the brownies,” I reassured her.

  Peyote was allowed on Native American territory in religious ceremonies under the Native American church, making it exempt from registration and drug control by the US government. But being in relative proximity to so many reservations, including Navajo Nation, it wasn’t surprising Carlos had been able to get his hands on some easily.

  “Is this what’s supposed to happen?” she groaned. “Seems like a horrible way to get high…”

  I chuckled. “It’s not used to get high. Not for the Navajo,” I told her, setting the cool cloth on the back of her neck. “With enough of a dose, you could get psychedelic visions, but with what he probably bought, all it’s going to do is stimulate and enhance emotions.”

  “He’s such an idiot.” She drew a deep breath and judging from the slight hint of color in her cheeks, the nausea had passed. “I hope he pukes all over his paint brushes.”

  I laughed softly. “Well, it seems to have had some effect on you.”

  She shook her head carefully. “I felt this way before.”

  “And now you just feel it more,” I told her, catching her eyes as they slid to mine and flickered with something unsaid, like light trying to make its way through a heavy thicket of trees.

  Clearing my throat, I went on, “I think you’ve thrown up everything that wasn’t already absorbed, so the rest should clear from your system soon.”

  She sat back, testing out a separation from the porcelain bowl.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

  I set the cool cloth on her forehead and, just like that, her protestations died under the most cock-throbbing moan that tumbled from her lips.

  “You were saying…” I tried to tease, but the words came out rough and coarse over the hard grains of desire that littered my throat.

  Her eyes drifted shut, their magnetic pull loosening and letting my own drift down her body, heavy with want.

  “Have you tried it—peyote?” she asked, her opening gaze catching the way mine silently devoured her.

  Jerking my focus away, I reached up and snagged her toothbrush and toothpaste from the sink counter, smearing some on the bristles and handing it to her.

  “A few times,” I replied. “I didn’t like how it made me feel, but it’s very insulting to the Navajo to not partake during a service.”

  “What did you feel?” She covered her mouth so she didn’t spray toothpaste everywhere.

  I tensed.

  I’d felt want. I’d felt desire with every uncontrollable urge that every teenage boy experienced. And I’d felt regret, as deep and suffocating as the sea. And it was all for her.

  “Things I couldn’t control.” It was hardly an answer, yet Tally looked at me like she’d heard my thoughts, not my words.

  But maybe that was the peyote, too.

  W
e sat on the bathroom floor for another few minutes in silence, and she continued to let me dab her skin with the washcloth, cooling and cleaning her dazed face.

  “Why did you do this, Tally?” I needed to know. Seeing her like this, I needed to know what all this was for.

  “Do what?” She sighed, sitting up and tipping her head back when I put the cloth on her forehead.

  I leaned back again, this time grabbing her

  “Agree to this exhibit. With him. After everything.” My jaw tightened. “Why not just let it go? There are a million opportunities for your dream in New York. Why put yourself through this?”

  Her eyes peeled open, revealing a cloudless blue sky, and I was lost in their depths.

  “I wouldn’t run again.” The drugs running through her veins untucked the hurt in each syllable. “I wouldn’t run again from a man who’d hurt me.”

  She looked like she couldn’t believe what she was saying. Now that the sickness was subsiding, she flushed with pure, potent emotion.

  “Tally—”

  “No, I need to learn. I need to do better.” Her head shook as she pushed herself up unsteadily. “I need to stop misreading the signs because it leaves me broken every time.”

  I swore under my breath when she stepped over my legs and left me scrambling to follow her.

  My hand caught the door just before she was able to shut it on me.

  I froze inside her room, remembering the last time we’d been in here together.

  “I’m fine now.”

  “You might be fine, but I told Mee-Maw I’d take care of you.” I closed the distance between us, pushing out air and all sense of reality with it.

  I reached for her shoulder, and she slowly turned, her eyes gently hooded, want and worry tucked side by side in their blue depths.

  I couldn’t leave. Memories were like magnets, pulling me closer to her with a force I could no longer resist.

  Blue bullets fired to mine. Nostrils flaring. And then, like a curtain, defiance dropped as she lifted her arms.

  “You want to take care of me, Sam, then help me.” She leveled me with the fact that sounded more like an accusation. “Because I’m not getting into bed in these clothes.”

  I winced, desire ramming my stomach like a wrecking ball.

  Her chin notched up, daring me. Trouble.

  “You’re going to get me in trouble, Tally Kerr,” I murmured, reaching for the edges of her shirt that teased at the bottom of her ribcage.

  When my fingers closed on the fabric, her lips parted and our heavy breaths clawed through the silence like rabid, ravenous beasts.

  Her eyelids clouded over gem-colored irises as I drew her shirt over her head.

  She was doing this to try and get me to back down—to leave her like she’d asked. It was the only reason. But it was hard to hold on to reason when my fingers itched to hold on to her.

  She doesn’t really want this. This heat. This electricity. This angry, aching hunger.

  She doesn’t even want to know the truth about the past.

  She doesn’t want you.

  My jaw ticked, a timer counting down to the beating bomb in my chest. Whatever reasons I’d come here with—to make sure she was okay, to talk to her about the past, to make up for that kiss… they blew up with steady, controlled detonations, leaving nothing left but my soul—a soul that had always wanted her.

  “You asked to stay, Sam Deschenes.”

  Her shirt landed on the floor, thudded with the finality of her words.

  My eyes dragged down her chest, her breasts barely covered with a lace bra, the blue floral lace covered her like war paint, vibrant and fierce—and revealed every inch of skin underneath.

  She shuddered, color and life returning to tint the silken terrain of her beautiful body pink with desire. My mouth dried out, watching her nipples tighten and push against the thin fabric protecting them.

  Fuck.

  I’d wanted her when she was a teen. Hardly a woman then, but enough to make daily cold showers a consequence of our friendship. But now, all those curves I’d forced myself to respect had filled out in ways that were both noticeable but indescribable.

  I stood stock-still, unable to move for fear of what I’d do—something either not enough or too much.

  Most likely too much based on how my cock punched against the front of my pants.

  “You can’t keep taking care of me, Sam,” she murmured, hooking her fingers into the waist of her pants.

  Regret and lust twined like a rope around my neck, both working together from opposite directions to choke the life from me.

  “Why not?” I bit out as she shimmied her pants down far enough to be able to kick them off.

  “You should go,” she muttered, reaching up to grasp a strand of hair on the side of my face.

  She tipped and swayed, the peyote still running strong enough through her system.

  In my periphery, I could see the bright blue lace of her underwear that matched her bra and there was no more point in breathing—I wasn’t going to make it out of this night alive.

  It had been too long since I’d been with a woman; I couldn’t even recall how long. Ever since Tally walked off that plane and into my arms, it felt like I’d lost all sense of the time I’d been without her. Like trying to remember a time before cell phones or the internet.

  “I’m not leaving,” I rasped, desire pumping like a different brand of drug through my veins. One I had no choice but to consume. One I had no choice but to let it consume me.

  “I know better than to believe that,” she replied with a low, sad laugh, her hand falling to her side.

  Though her mouth spoke in anger, her body spoke in lust. Darkened eyes and flushed skin. Pebbled nipples and insistent pulse.

  I speared my fingers through my hair, frustrated by the loose strands that dangled in my face like tiny black albatrosses, hanging by my mistakes. I couldn’t let this go on any longer.

  “Dammit, Tally. You can’t say that and not let me explain,” I accused, my voice hard and sharp as steel, slicing through the last barricades of my restraint.

  “You broke me, Sam. An explanation won’t change that.”

  Reaching up, I cupped the sides of her face, feeling the heat of her skin seep into mine.

  “I don’t believe that,” I told her, drowning in the murky depths of her emotions. Tracing my finger down the curve of her cheek, I followed the trail of tears I’d scarred into her skin. “I don’t believe it because I see the hurt I caused filling up your eyes and you won’t let me drain it.”

  Her gaze widened and her lips, pink with frustration, opened slightly.

  She curled her hands into my shirt, her front grazing against mine with each traitorous breath, tempting me into excruciating oblivion. “Don’t,” she whispered in warning, fire flashing in her stare.

  My jaw vibrated. “I didn’t have a choice, Tally. If I would’ve left—”

  With a strangled cry, she pulled herself up on her tiptoes and severed the truth with her lips. And, if I was being honest, it was the only thing that could’ve stopped me.

  Her mouth fused to mine with elemental heat, forcing my silence—forcing my surrender.

  I’d never been able to say no to her. She was my weakness. Always had been. Always would be.

  Her lips lingered on mine, firm and full of promise. I felt her tremble with emotion and it took everything I had not to deepen it—not to drag my tongue along the sweet seam of her lips and coax her tongue free and tease it into accepting my truth.

  Time no longer existed. She’d silenced that, too. There was no past. No present. No future. Only her and me.

  She pulled back suddenly, gasping, eyes popping wide, realizing just what she’d done. Acted on heightened emotion.

  “I shouldn’t…” She gulped and dipped her chin.

  “There are easier ways to shut me up,” I said tightly, lust held at bay by the thoughts webbing around it; she regretted the kiss, just like
she had the first. She didn’t want me. “Don’t waste a kiss when there’s no one to see. I know you don’t want this.”

  This wasn’t supposed to be real, only pretend.

  Only for her ex to see.

  Twin blue flames, the color no turquoise would ever be able to capture, catapulted to mine.

  “You’re an idiot, and I should make you leave,” she blurted out, the peyote fueling the fire of her tongue as it lashed out confessions that could no longer be concealed.

  Lust made her voice sultry and low, but it was surprise, like she’d shocked herself by admitting to it, that made her breath catch and her breasts rub against my chest.

  My blood erupted, pounding in my ears.

  “Tally—”

  “No. I’m the idiot.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m the idiot because I want you. I wanted you before, and I want you now. I never stopped.” She drew in a long breath that I heard stutter as it dove down into her vulnerable chest. “I’m the idiot because I never stopped and you never started.”

  What?

  There was too much. A deluge of information that doused me in disbelief and desire. I tried to focus on her—on her words—but the simple truths beat in my chest like war drums.

  She wanted me.

  Then.

  And now.

  “What the hell are you talking about—wanting me before? And I never started?” I choked out. “Christ, Tally. I’ve wanted you since before I fully understood what the concept meant.”

  My tone grated over the harsh truth that had gone unsaid for so long. But when I met her stare, it was the flash of confusion that caught me, reminding me that what she said was still under the influence of the drugs running through her system—to what degree? It didn’t matter. Now wasn’t the time to cling to the spark of hope she’d lit.

  “But I should be taking care of you… not taking you.”

  I should let her go. I should lock myself out of her room until Mee-Maw got back. I shouldn’t touch her until she let me give her the truth.

  But shoulds weren’t made to stand up against a need that was a decade in the making.

  “You can’t take care of me,” she insisted again, anger and need tossing inside her like two sides of the same coin, the peyote strengthening both. “So you might as well kiss me again.”