Make Me Stay (Arizona Heat Book 2)

by Katie Douglas

  “Yup. I didn’t reply to the letter. I was already waiting for her to sign the divorce papers.”

  “And now you all think she might be responsible for cutting fences around the ranch? Why would she come back all of a sudden?”

  Barrett looked uncomfortable. “She’s shown up sporadically, usually when she’s really broke and needs money.”

  “Do you give it to her?” That would be a deal breaker because it would prove he was still living in his wife’s shadow. Jeez, when did this whole situation take a turn for Mr. Rochester?

  “No. So she loses her shit, disappears, and I don’t hear from her again until next time she thinks she might get lucky.”

  I looked down at the letter again. This was clearly old. He hadn’t scribbled this anytime recently. And the woman in the photo... she looked pretty, although she had weird eyes, like they were anxious even though she was smiling.

  “What do you think, Harper? Can you live with this?”

  “The crazy wife in the attic?” I wasn’t sure if he’d get the reference or not. I took a deep breath and put the letter back in its envelope, taking care even though I wanted to burn the poisonous words. “I can. For now. But you have one month to get those divorce papers signed.”

  The grim look of determination told me he would try his best.

  “I need to talk to Clay and Lawson, see if we can get to the bottom of the fence problem. Do you need anything before I go?”

  Suddenly it was like we were almost back to normal. But there was still a distance between us that hadn’t been there before I’d known he had a wife.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  I watched him leave and wondered if anything would ever be simple again, like it was before I broke everything. Every time we stuck the fragments back together it seemed as if they fell apart again.

  I wanted to be mad about the fact he hadn’t told me about his wife, but at the same time it made me feel a little better about what I’d done. At least I wasn’t the only person who had fucked things up between us. It wasn’t a lot of consolation but I’d take it.

  Chapter 12

  “No, you won’t string me along. You better be moving on. Giddy on up, giddy on out.” — Laura Bell Bundy, Giddy On Up.

  Barrett

  I headed out of my home feeling like a real ass. I hadn’t meant to keep anything from Harper, but it had been impossible to know how or when to bring this up.

  I hammered on Clay’s door then let myself in. The two brothers were in the kitchen, deep in conversation.

  “I told her,” I said in a flat voice.

  “About time!” Lawson growled.

  “I can’t believe you kept it from her for so long. You really are fucking up everything with this girl.” Clay gave me that paternal look that made it clear he was scolding me.

  “I know. But I’ve not gotten serious about anyone since Clarissa, so I’m out of practice. Anyway, did you have any more thoughts about the fence?”

  “Mostly we’ve been going around in circles over the same details,” Clay said.

  “I think it’s time we called Bob.” I hated saying it. The idea of getting my soon-to-be ex-wife in trouble with the law was repulsive, but it was time to think of Harper, and I’d figured out a way to get my wife to sign the divorce papers.

  Barrett

  It was early morning, and the first light of the day hadn’t peeked over the horizon, yet. I sat in my truck with Sheriff Bob Halsey, while we both ate breakfast bagels.

  “I’m surprised you ever got tangled up with someone who treated you like that, son. You seem to have good sense most of the time.”

  “We were both young.”

  “When I was eighteen, I almost married a woman. She ran off to become a hippie. Guess the difference is, she did it before we got married.”

  “Did you marry again?” I hoped the answer was yes.

  “Nope. Well, unless you count marryin’ my job. I’m a mighty fine sheriff and I wouldn’t inflict that on any woman.”

  I didn’t think cattle work was especially complicated or involved like police work was. There was no need for me to worry about Harper coming second to my cattle shed.

  We fell into silence as we finished the bagels and drank our coffee. So far, nothing had happened.

  “Look.”

  We both squinted into the shrubs. Someone was at the fence, about two hundred yards from where we were parked. I drove around the outside, finding their vehicle parked in the exact place Harper’s van had been, all that time ago. I blocked them with my truck just the same, while Bob called for backup.

  We got out and crouched behind the other vehicle, waiting for its driver to return. When they did, we leapt out.

  “Police! Don’t move!” Bob yelled.

  Clarissa screamed and tried to run but I wrestled her to the ground. She looked haggard, with sunken eyes and prematurely gray hair, despite being my age. Drugs had stolen the life from her and it was difficult to witness. I think the correct term was meth head.

  “Care to explain, sweetheart?” I snarled into her ear.

  “I was coming to find you! I got lost!” she lied. I pulled the metal cutters out of her hand.

  “Reckon these were used for property damage on other occasions, Bob?”

  “Yep. That’s solid evidence. We caught you red-handed, ma’am.”

  “No, you didn’t!” she argued. If there was one thing everyone in Snake Eye knew, it was never to argue with Sheriff Bob. He was always right.

  “That’s gonna be a jail term,” Bob sighed.

  “No! I can’t go to jail!”

  “I could probably get the owners to drop charges,” I mused, pretending this wasn’t my plan all along. Bob was in on it, too. “But you’d have to do something for me, first.”

  “Anything.” Her voice dropped into some attempt at seduction, but I knew better than to go there ever again.

  “Sign these divorce papers.” I handed her the sheath of legal documents and a pen. She gasped in shock.

  “You can’t mean it!”

  “Ma’am, backup will be here in a few minutes, and we can finish this chitchat in the station. Where I can run a check for outstanding arrest warrants.”

  “Fine! I’ll sign! Heartless bastard,” Clarissa snarled at me. I released her enough to be able to read and write. She took the pen and signed the papers, throwing my nice ballpoint into the sand.

  “Thank you, sheriff.” I gathered up the papers and my pen, and touched my hat as I stood up.

  Clarissa made to leave but Bob put a hand on her shoulder. “Actually, now I think about it, you look familiar. Weren’t you wanted in New Mexico for drug smuggling?”

  She shrieked and tried to run away but Bob quickly had her cuffed. “I don’t like drug-taking. Far as I’m concerned, the only things worse are drug-making and drug-moving. I reckon you’ve done all three. You’re under arrest on suspicion of bringing drugs into Snake Eye.”

  “This can’t be happening. Help me, Barrett! You know I didn’t do it.”

  Bob winked at me. “Backup will be along soon to impound the vehicle. I can’t wait to find out what she’s got in there. Reckon there’s some cops in New Mexico who’ll be eager to see you.”

  I grinned. “It’s what she deserves. Take her away.”

  “We came in your truck. So, you’ll have to drive me and her back to where my squad car’s parked.”

  Oh. Yeah. I got them back to the ranch, ignoring Clarissa’s whiny pleas the whole way.

  “Didn’t you ever love me?” she shot at me as Bob put her in the back of his car.

  I cocked my head to one side, as if I were trying to think. “Yeah. I did. Or at least, I loved someone who looked a lot like you but who was sweet, kind, and not manipulative.”

  I turned and walked away as she began the crocodile tears. Opening the door to my house, I found Harper watching at the window.

  “That’s her?” She sounded surprised. “She was so differen
t in her photo.”

  It was a sad fact. “Yep. Drugs make you look like shit.”

  “Yeesh.”

  We were silent for a long moment.

  “What’s going to happen to her?” she asked.

  “I think she’ll do some jail time, and if she has any sense at all, she’ll get clean.”

  We watched the cop car drive away slowly.

  “How do I stay after that? How do I love you now?” Harper asked, turning to me and searching my face like there were answers on it. But my mind only fixed on one thing she’d said.

  “You love me?”

  Her eyes widened as she realized she had admitted it. When her mouth fell open, I leaned in and kissed her deeply, savoring the taste of the beautiful, sweet woman who had been looking for home for so long.

  “I love you, too,” I whispered, when I broke away. I pulled the divorce papers out of my pocket and handed them to her. “Do I get extra points for doing it with thirty days to spare?”

  She giggled and hit me over the head playfully with the sheath of papers.

  Harper

  It was a week later and I was still in the wheelchair when Barrett came home with a little box.

  “I got you a gift,” he said. I frowned, because gifts equaled commitments. Expectations. What if I disappointed him and let him down?

  No. I had to stop thinking like that.

  Mostly, I was over it, but one life-changing incident couldn’t erase years of thinking a certain way. Occasionally, I had moments when the old doubts crept in. Only, these days, I chose not to let them control me.

  I wheeled over to the box he’d placed on the kitchen table. It was pretty; that silver shiny stuff that was often used for gift wrap, tied up with a big gauzy ribbon ending in a haphazard bow he’d obviously struggled to tie.

  “I wrapped it myself.” Pride radiated from his voice, even though the statement was redundant. I smiled, because I’d rather have a lopsided bow he’d wrapped by hand than a perfect, store-bought bow.

  I picked it up. “If I shake it, will it break?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  It rattled. I had no idea what was in here. Pulling on the ribbon, I unfastened it slowly, half-scared of finding out what he’d bought.

  When I eased the lid off, I just stared and stared at the familiar-looking black-handled key in the box.

  “I bought it off Clay and Lawson. It’s yours, now. When you can use it again, I mean. Go out and see,” he said.

  I put the key on my lap and wheeled outside, still speechless.

  “Holy—” I began, but I couldn’t finish the sentence. I just kept staring at the ancient truck I’d fixed, which was now wrapped with an even bigger ribbon, just to assuage any doubts in my mind.

  I’d recognized the key immediately, but I had to see the vehicle to believe it.

  “You got me a truck...” I exclaimed, in utter disbelief.

  “I got you a truck,” he echoed from behind, leaning down and putting his arms around me. He kissed me on top of my head and I began to cry.

  The truck was almost worthless to sell, but to me, it would always be a reminder of how this whole thing started. And I did love old, broken down vehicles.

  “Thank you,” I choked, between sniffles. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.

  “You’re not to drive it until the doctor gives you the all-clear, mind,” he chided, his tone becoming paternal. I smiled to myself. No one had ever cared about me the way Barrett did.

  “This is too much. I can’t take a truck. Not after what I did,” I mumbled, my awe giving way to shame again, as another flash of guilt jumped like a piranha out of the slosh of my regular thoughts.

  Barrett let go and walked around in front of me. He put one finger under my chin and tilted my face upwards.

  “I agree we have unfinished business, but it’s sideways to whether I want to buy my girl a present or not. We’ll settle things between us as soon as you’re well enough, and you’re not to think about any of it in the meantime.”

  Epilogue

  “We grew closer as time went on, and that little old shack it was a happy home, and we just couldn't help but fall in love.” — Dolly Parton, Joshua.

  One Month Later

  Harper

  I was standing naked in the corner of the living room, like a naughty little girl.

  “Come here, please, Harper.” His voice drew me toward the armchair where he sat with a leather tasseled implement dangling from one hand. I trudged over there slowly. My legs were working fine, now; everything had mostly healed from my crash, and this was the first time he’d been able to safely discipline me, now we’d been given the all-clear by the doctor for “normal activities” to resume, as long as I kept my regular physical therapy appointments. My leg was unlikely to work perfectly for a long while, but it was stable enough to take my weight and sleeping had become a lot more comfortable since the cast came off.

  “Why are you in trouble?” His voice was deceptive. It made him sound calm, but I knew underneath there was the slight urgency that belied how hungry he was to get this settled between us. We’d had to wait so long.

  “Because I ran off when I wanted to stay. I didn’t talk to you about it, and I felt bad afterwards.”

  “Am I punishing you because you left me?”

  I shook my head. “No. Because I feel guilty and we need to clear things up.”

  “Do you want me to spank you?”

  I shifted from foot to foot. “Want” was such a loaded concept.

  “No. But I need it. I need you to show me.”

  “Show you what?”

  Wow. We were doing twenty questions, today.

  “Show me that you care enough to correct me. Please. So please spank me.”

  Those were the hardest words I’d ever spoken in my life. Ordinarily, we didn’t have much of a domestic discipline vibe going. We usually just played in the bedroom, with short term power exchanges that never lasted more than a couple of hours.

  It had been a while since I’d wrecked my van. The police had found the truck was going too fast, which is why he hadn’t stopped in time despite the distance between us when I’d pulled out. His insurance had paid out a lot of money and if I’d wanted, I could have bought another van without thinking about it too hard. But I wanted to stay here, instead. Anyway, that ancient truck was a lot of fun to drive, and it reached higher speeds than my van ever had.

  When I tried to use some of the money to repay Clay for covering my medical bills, he wouldn’t accept a penny.

  I’d gone through painful physical therapy and worked hard to feel better, but there was this one loose end we still had to tie up. I needed this. I wasn’t going to stop apologizing or feel better about anything until we’d squared it all. And that meant I’d had to ask him for this punishment.

  “Over my knee,” he instructed me. I got into position, with my ass up, face down, barely balancing on my fingertips and toes.

  He slid the flogger over my ass, painstakingly slowly, igniting warmth deep inside me that made me moan while my core clenched. Before I could get too used to it, however, he abandoned the flogger and used the palm of his bare hand to rain hard, punishing swats down on my ass. I gasped at the intensity. It was much harder than he usually swatted me, and I understood, now, why we’d waited so long after my cast had come off.

  “Jeez!” I exclaimed. “That hurts.”

  “Good.” He continued landing swat after firm swat on my butt cheeks and I growled and tossed my hair in a feeble attempt at getting the pain out.

  In my chest, a spring of emotions gushed up, unleashed by the shameful position and the fact my man had to teach me this lesson.

  I began to sob.

  His hand slammed into me several more times and tears trickled against my nose. He stopped. I was about to push up from the ground when the flogger landed on my ass, creating a tattoo of sharp, biting pain across the surface of my skin and making me cr
y harder. He alternated between landing it on my left butt cheek and my right one, over and over, as the hard tails of the leather flogger bit into my flesh sharply.

  “What won’t you do again?” he prompted.

  “I won’t leave when I want to stay!” I cried through sobs.

  “Good girl. Six more.”

  He landed the flogger a half-dozen more times and I continued to cry. When he stopped, he ditched the flogger again and lightly trailed his fingers over my skin. It burned and I tried to flinch away from his touch but he held me in place with his other hand.

  I cried myself out over his knee. He ran his fingers along the slit between my legs.

  “You’re very wet,” he remarked.

  “Sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say; growing aroused during a punishment hadn’t been intentional.

  He gently helped me upright and for some reason I thought he was going to sit me on his knee like a child, but instead he maneuvered me onto the bed. My ass burned and chafed as it touched the usually-soft cotton.

  “Spread your legs,” he growled.

  I pulled them apart, feeling exposed as the air hit my wet pussy.

  He stood beside the bed, between my parted feet, and my eyes fixated on the flogger in his hand. He raised it and I shook my head, squeaking.

  “Keep your legs apart,” he insisted. I squeaked again, unable to make words.

  The flogger landed straight where my legs met, with a vision-blurring sharp sting. I howled as the blood rushed to my labia and clit in the aftermath. Burning pain flooded my lower regions and it was accompanied by a mouth-watering arousal that made me arch my hips up, even though I absolutely didn’t want him to do that again.

  “You’re forgiven,” he said softly, and the next thing I knew, he was naked and kneeling between my legs, his protected cock lined up at my still-burning entrance.

  “Please,” I gasped. He knew what I needed, and he entered me quickly.

  The sensation of his hard cock sliding into my sheath made me cry out with relief. It felt like I’d waited forever for this, even though he hadn’t teased me for long. He began fucking me gently, and I could feel his muscles bunching up above me as he tried to hold back. Soon, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer, and he pounded into me, his cock stroking against the bundle of nerves deep inside me that made my pussy contract around him.