“Danny,” he rasped, his breath hot on her cheek. “My brave, brave Danny.”
Then he paused, waiting until she opened her eyes.
Their gazes locked, his lips curved, and he began to move—slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed as she moved against him, meeting his thrusts and urging him on. Her fingers dug into the bunch and flow of the muscles on either side of his spine and she bowed against him, glorying in the slide of his flesh within her.
The end, when it came for her, was hard and sudden, almost brutal in its intensity, yet at the same time gentle and joyous. She coiled and whispered his name as her inner muscles contracted around his hard length, and a moment later he shuddered and followed her over.
She stretched out around him, feeling like she was free-falling without a chute, cartwheeling through the air without wings, flying free.
Then, slowly, coming back down to earth.
The room took shape around her—the big bed, with its no-nonsense blue sheets and striped down comforter; the painting, which reminded her of Blessing Valley; the big doors looking out on the night; the dog curled up on a fallen blanket, carefully not looking at them.
And the wonderful press of Sam’s body on hers.
He propped up on his elbows to ease some of his weight, his beard stubble grazing her temple as his breathing slowly came back to normal. “Sweet Danny,” he said, voice low and husky. His lips touched where his jaw had rested, then her cheek, her nose. Her lips.
She savored the kiss, and the pleasure pang that shuddered through her body when he disengaged from her, then rolled onto his back and gathered her against him. Splaying a hand over his heart, she pillowed her cheek on his chest and let herself drift while he stroked her back, his hand cruising from her shoulder to her buttocks and up again.
After a long, delicious while, he stirred. “Can I get you anything? Snack? Drink? Whole-body massage?”
That last one sounded good, but his voice was sleep-slurred.
“I’m good,” she said with a sleepy smile. “Wouldn’t change a thing.” And it was wonderfully true. In the heavy lassitude of the aftermath, her brain was quiet and the chatter stilled. “It’s been a heck of a day, hasn’t it? When I woke up this morning, I never in a million years would’ve guessed I’d be spending the night in your bed.”
He tightened his arm around her. “The first of many, if I have anything to say about it. Because I wouldn’t change a thing, either.” He kissed the top of her head and fell silent, his chest rising and falling beneath her, hypnotic in its rhythm. Rising and falling. Rising and falling. Rising and . . .
Danny slept. And the dreams stayed far away.
* * *
The next morning Danny awakened, momentarily disoriented by the bright light and cloud-soft mattress. But a gentle snore coming from beside her and the heavy weight of a man’s arm across her hip quickly oriented her.
She was in Sam’s house, Sam’s bed. And she had zero regrets.
Exactly the opposite, in fact. Her skin carried their mingled scents, and her body tugged with lovely aches from taking him inside her twice more during the night, making them well and truly lovers. She should have been exhausted, worn out, but instead she was suddenly wide-awake and ready to face a new day. A new reality, even, because becoming Sam’s lover might not have changed her, but it definitely changed things.
Stretching, she eased out from under his arm and to the side of the bed, not wanting to wake him. It didn’t seem like she needed to worry, though—he stayed deeply asleep, moving only to breathe and looking ever so slightly stern, even while conked out. She smiled at him, feeling tender, grateful, and darn pleased with herself as she found the thick rug with her feet and stood.
In the light of day, the room turned out to be a big square space with white walls and elegantly carved wood trim. With a bureau and a clothing-loaded bookcase taking the place of a closet, and the bathroom across the hall, it likely hadn’t been intended as a bedroom. They were probably upstairs. But the space suited Sam—there was a heck of a mountain view through the glass doors, and the rest was bare-bones and practical. The only exception to that was one level of the shelving unit, which held a jumble of stones and fossils, and three pictures.
Pulling on her clothes, Danny studied the collection. There was a snapshot of a pretty blonde wearing dated clothes and kneeling in a freshly turned garden with her arms around a tousle-haired toddler, the both of them mugging for the camera. The other two pictures showed an older version of that same kid with a dark-haired man who had his smile. In one, they held up arrowheads and wore nearly identical expressions of Look what I found! In the other, they stood on the pinnacle of Wolf Rock, running an American flag up the pole. The sight tugged at Danny, reminded her of seeing him standing up there alone, waiting for her.
Her vision blurring, she turned her attention to the other items on the curio shelf. The stones were an odd mix of beautifully prepared crystal clusters, perfectly preserved fossils, and a jumble of knapped arrowheads, rough gemstones, and plain rocks of unclear significance. She smiled as she drew her fingers along one of the arrowheads, imagining him as a boy, discovering the cache. And smiling wider when she saw the small piece of flawed pink quartz he had found at Blessing Valley.
A soft “whuff” drew her attention to the corner, where Whiz had spent the night. He cocked his head, as if to say, Well?
“Okay, come on. I’ll let you out.” She hadn’t needed to think about that too much in camp, but Krista had been right about his training. She let the dog out, gave him a few minutes, and then called him in, still leery of leaving him alone for too long. Then, hoping for a spare toothbrush, she headed back up the hallway and pushed through the door to the bathroom.
Only it wasn’t the bathroom.
Danny froze as motion-activated lights flipped on, illuminating a huge, echoing garage that was big enough to hold a couple of school buses but housed only a single motorcycle. “Whoops. Wrong door.” She started to pull the panel shut, but then paused, her blood chilling as she realized what she was looking at.
Not just a motorcycle. A wrecked Harley.
Black and mean-looking, it might have just rolled off the showroom floor if it hadn’t been for the mangled front wheel and fork, the deep furrows and staved-in pannier, and the replacement parts that had been stacked nearby, as if the repairs were a work in progress. Except that it all wore a thick layer of dust, and the calendar hanging on the wall nearby was seven years out-of-date.
“Oh,” she said, connecting the dots. Flushing at the knowledge that this was private and she was accidentally snooping, she backed up—
Right into a warm, solid body.
“Oh!” She jumped and spun. “I’m sorry. I . . .”
Sam stood behind her. And he didn’t look happy.
* * *
Damn it, Sam thought hollowly. Just damn it. But seeing her dismay, he said, “It’s okay. Not your fault.” And it wasn’t her fault, of course. But it also wasn’t okay.
Not when seeing the V-Rod’s black-and-chrome gleam reminded him of going into the bike store that day with money to burn, talking his dad into the bigger, faster bike . . . and, a few days later, the officer’s voice on the phone, saying, “I’m sorry, son . . .”
He swallowed hard. Should have locked the damn door. Waking up, slow and satisfied, he had thought only of finding breakfast and talking Danny back into bed, and not necessarily in that order. Now his appetite was gone and the bedroom seemed miles away compared to the crumpled mess of metal in the garage and the hash he had made of fixing it up.
Well, not a hash, exactly. The work he had done was good and the parts were all there. He just hadn’t seen the point in finishing. He wasn’t going to sell it, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ride it. And after the first couple of weeks, he’d stopped seeing his father’s silhouette in the doorway and h
earing the echoes of his voice . . . until one day he had just put down the socket wrench he’d been using, wiped his hands on a rag, and walked out.
“Truly.” She crossed to him and gripped his arm. “I’m sorry. Let’s just close the door and forget about it.”
And she would, too, or at least put it out of her mind, because she understood privacy and wasn’t looking to fix him. “Yeah, that’d probably be best.” He reached past her and pulled the panel shut, knowing it would take longer to erase the afterburn on his retinas. “Thank you.”
“Hey.” She went up on her toes and brushed her lips across his. “Being lovers doesn’t mean we stop being ourselves.”
“That’s . . .”
“Too cheesy?” She grinned up at him, trying to get him to play along, lighten the mood, as if she knew that sometimes when the big stuff was bothering you, the best thing to do was pretend everything was okay. Until, eventually, you weren’t pretending anymore.
Then again, she did know that. Heck, she was living it. And, looking down at her and seeing everything that was in her eyes—the shadows, the softness, and a sadness that was more fellowship than pity—something shifted in his chest, telling him that this moment was important. She was important. And he’d better not screw this up.
“Not cheesy,” he said, voice going low and husky as he slid his arms around her. “In fact, I’d say it’s pretty darn perfect. Just like you.”
“Ha!” She flattened her palms on his chest, but nestled close rather than pushing away. “Flattery will get you nowhere, buster.”
“Then how about we take a trip out to Hyrule to open up that vein of aqua—all aboveground, I promise—and go out to dinner later? You’re off today, right? Are you free?”
Excitement sparked in her eyes, reminding him that he’d gotten damn lucky finding a woman who liked him just the way he was. “I am, and definitely yes to Hyrule. As for dinner, yes there, too, but if we’re going to do this,” she pointed from him to her and back, “then we alternate who pays.”
How was it that she could fascinate him, frustrate him, and level him off all at once? “I believe I’ve mentioned that I’m rich. And as you can see”—he gestured around them—“I’m not blowing my budget on décor. So how about you let me spend some of it on a night out? I promise I’ll still be able to make payroll.”
She nodded like they were in perfect agreement. “Fine, then I get our next dinner out.” He groaned, and she shot him a sidelong grin. “And speaking of playing with rocks, I wanted to talk to you about that. I had this idea for a guest field trip I’d like to offer at the ranch—”
“Sold,” he said, pushing aside the ghosts and swinging her back toward the bedroom.
“You haven’t even heard my idea yet!” she protested.
“So? I trust you.” And he didn’t say that lightly. At all. “So why don’t we fool around for a bit, then we can throw together some breakfast and you can tell me what I just got myself into?”
* * *
“Rockhound Week!” Krista did a little jiggle-the-baby happy dance. “Danny, I love it. It’s brilliant!”
“Well, maybe not a whole week,” Danny said, not wanting to go overboard with it, even though she and Sam had brainstormed plenty of gem-focused guest activities over the past week, refining the concept before she brought it to Krista. “I know you’ve got your themes all planned out for the summer, so we were thinking just a day or two at first, as a side offering for the dudes. Sam could give a talk about geology and show them some of the inventions he and his guys are working on, and we could take whoever wants to go up to the claim for a day or two of rock hunting. So far up there, they’ve found turquoise, topaz, and tourmaline. There’s even a fossil bed!”
“Listen to you, turning into a rock expert.” Krista winked. “Sam must be a good teacher.”
“He’s . . .” Danny hesitated, not sure where the line fell between friendship and privacy, between girl talk and gossip. Finally, she said, “He’s smart, funny, and loyal. He loves the outdoors as much as I do, loves the land more than me.” Her pulse picked up a notch at what she was saying, and the tone she heard in her own voice. “He’s a special guy. I’m glad we decided to take a chance on each other.”
He had left for Misty Hill a few hours ago, and she already missed him.
Krista’s eyes went soft. “You really get him, don’t you?”
“I’d say we get each other.” And if there were some doors she was better off not opening—literally and figuratively—she was okay with that. Losing his father had taken a toll. “As far as rock hunting goes,” she added, “I’m no expert.” Though she had found a fingertip-size, top-quality topaz the other evening, earning her Queen of the Claim status for the day. “But I sure am having fun, and I think the guests would, too. So if you’re into it—”
“Oh, I’m into it.” Krista tapped her lower lip, considering. “Next week is Singles Week, which might not be the best fit—the singles tend to be more interested in each other than the activities. The week after, though . . . Yes, that would work. It might actually be perfect. It’s a Reunion Week, heavy on the families. I’m betting some of them would jump at the chance to ride out for an overnight.”
“Ride? We were thinking of ATVs, or maybe chartering a helicopter.”
“But wouldn’t it be way cooler to ride? Dude ranch, after all. And the guest horses are good about picket lines and portable electric fencing. Foster and Junior can go with you to manage the herd.” Her expression brightened. “Strike that. Wyatt and I will! We haven’t camped out since before Abby was born. She’s about ready to stay the night with her grandma, and I’m past ready to have a night away.”
Remembering how many times the new mom had texted Wyatt the afternoon of their shopping trip, Danny wasn’t so sure about that. Drily, she said, “And that week being the one right before the wedding has nothing to do with it, I’m sure.”
“Hush!” Krista flapped a hand at her. “I wouldn’t be ducking out of anything important. And this sounds really fun. We’ll get Gran in on it, have her come up with some gem-related meals, like Emerald Salad and Ruby Red Potatoes.”
“Nice,” Danny said approvingly. “And something with blue diamonds, in honor of Babcock Gems—maybe blueberry pie with diamond-shaped cutouts? Or—” A digital bleat cut her off. “Is that your phone?”
“I think it’s yours,” Krista said, amused.
“Well, would you look at that?” Danny dug it out. “It doesn’t usually get bars out here.” She checked the ID, expecting to see Sam’s name. Instead, she got an unfamiliar number with a Wyoming exchange. “Hello?”
“Danny, it’s Shelby. Whatever you do, don’t say my name! And act casual! You can’t let on like you’re talking to me.”
It took a major effort not to screw up her face and say “What the hell?” Instead, scrambling, she came up with, “Oh, hey, Mom.”
“Good! Now I need you to ditch Krista and meet me and Jenny on the other side of the barn. But you can’t let her know what you’re doing. Got it?”
“Er . . . What’s up with Dad?”
“We’ll tell you what’s going on when you get here. Hurry!” There was a dual giggle, and the line went dead.
Putting her hand over the bottom of her phone, like she didn’t want the person on the other end to overhear, Danny said, “Do you mind if I take this where I get better reception? She and I keep missing each other.”
“Of course! Please.” Krista waved her off. “Though don’t even think you’re getting out of here without giving me the four-one-one on how things are going with you and—” She gave the phone a wary look and mouthed, S-A-M.
“I will, I promise. But until then, I’ve got one word for you.” Still pretending her mom was on the phone, she mimicked Krista, mouthing, W-O-W. Then, as Krista’s laugher pealed out behind her, she scampered to the barn, prete
nding to be doing a “Can you hear me now?” with her mom.
Jenny’s Jeep was waiting on the other side, out of view from the main house. When Danny came around the corner, the passenger door flung open and Shelby stuck her head out, waving madly. “Hurry! Come on!”
The vehicle was already rolling when Danny got there, and it accelerated as she jumped in and slammed the door. Jenny was behind the wheel, Shelby in the back, and the air crackled with excitement.
Heart pounding—from the run, the ruse—Danny buckled in, cracked the window, and demanded, “Okay, you two, what gives?”
“We’re kidnapping you,” Shelby announced. “You’re in our power for the next couple of hours.”
“That sounds good to me. What are we doing?”
“Planning Krista’s bachelorette party, of course!”
14
The first stop on Operation Bachelorette Plan was a honky-tonk bar called the Rope Burn—a low, sprawling wooden building with a big neon sign and a dirt parking area, where a couple of motorcycles were pulled up to an old-timey hitching rail.
The door was heavy, the interior dim after the bright afternoon sunlight, and it took a moment for Danny’s eyes to adjust. When they did, she found herself standing just inside what could’ve been a Hollywood set labeled COWBOY BAR. It was that kitschy, that wonderful, from the boots and coiled ropes hung over the bar to the mechanical bull in a fenced-off section at the center of the dance floor. The place was midmorning-deserted and looked to be closed, but a cook popped his head out of the kitchen, caught sight of Shelby, and waved. “Hey. You guys want anything?”
“We’re good. We’re just going to put our heads together, make sure we’ve got all the plans nailed down.”
“Cool. You need anything, just give us a shout.” He disappeared back through the swinging doors, cutting off the kitchen noises.
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