by Jess Bentley
“Then how about your own advice?”
He’s thoughtful for a moment. “You’ll have to try. Every day. No matter what comes up, you can never stop trying. Because if you do…” he breathes, and blinks rapidly before clearing his throat. “It takes work. Between any two people. But I think you’re probably up to the task.”
It’s good enough. Work is something I understand. Better than another bit of gloomy French “wisdom.” My nerves actually do settle down just a bit.
There’s a knock at the door. “Almost time, babe,” Chester says. “You ready?”
“Almost,” I call back. “Um… Dad, since you’re here, do you think I could ask you to do me a favor?”
“Sure, Janie,” he says. “Anything.”
Ten minutes later, the music starts. The doors open. All eyes are on me, and I can see Jake at the altar, his mouth falling open.
I hook my arm in my father’s elbow. It’s an old, outdated tradition. Total bullshit. Like he’s giving me away? You don’t give away a daughter, you give away cattle.
And yet, there’s a flutter in my stomach as we step out into the aisle together and he walks in step with me and damn it, Toia just fixed my makeup. She used the waterproof stuff, at least. It’ll last.
The ceremony is short and sweet. We’re both eager for Barbados, where we will live in bliss for two beautiful weeks after this affair is over and done with. But before that, we both have a few things to say.
“Janie Hall,” Jake breathes, just as nervous as I am, “I stand by what I said two months ago. I don’t deserve you. But I promise that I will always work, hard, to be the best man that I can possibly be. I will love you and keep you in my heart—you and our daughter—first and foremost above all other things and all other people. You have made me a better man, and I will spend the rest of my life repaying that debt.”
I can barely speak, and it takes me a moment to catch my breath.
You can do this, Janie Hall.
“Jacob Ferry,” I begin, my hands shaking in his. “I promise you that I will be… difficult, at the best of times.” The assembled guests chuckle at that, and I wait for it to pass. Jake is smiling. “I’m used to charting my own course in life, alone. I thought that I had it all planned out, too. And then… well, things got a little derailed. I know that we will have more ups and downs. I know that we will have to work hard. But I promise you that I will never stop working, never stop trying. I love you, Jake Ferry. And I will love only you, from this day until my last.”
There isn’t a dry eye in the place. I feel my attention being pulled back to the audience and my mother is looking at me, with something akin to real pride in her eyes. She’s not only proud of me, but there’s something else there. Is she proud of herself? Relieved? I just want my mother to be all right. She’s flanked by my twin brothers, and holding one of their hands each. It’s only then that I realize that her plus one is a minus one: George isn’t here. Could that mean he’s gone?
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant says, and I’m thrown back into the moment and subsumed in Jake’s eyes, as he leans in to me and his lips meet mine for one slow, electric moment. It’s not a deep kiss, it’s very chaste compared to our kisses in the past, but the feeling behind it is stronger and more loving than ever. It says so many things: I’m going to do my best for you. I’m not changing for you, but I am healing for you. Your love is bringing me back to the person that I was before life took me and changed me.
When we walk back down the aisle hand in hand, the congregation standing, their hearts joining us, I’m as excited as I’ve ever been. But I want to be sure my mother is all right. Sure, she had pride in her eyes, but the pride was fragile. New. Why is George gone? Is he gone for good? Or just sitting out the wedding?
As we lay in bed together for the first time as husband and wife, Jake looks at me, and again it seems like his eyes open up, that layers of pain have been washed away somehow. His body melts into mine, and one strong arm holds me while the other traces circles on my eager skin. He kisses me, tenderly, but with fire this time, and it threatens to consume me. I feel it building inside me too and soon we are sitting up, hands clinging, grasping, touching. Our mouths are voracious, tasting, licking, kissing whatever part we can reach.
As he kisses my neck, and my shoulder, it feels as if my neck and shoulder are kissing him, just as my mouth is. His lips trail down to my breasts and he takes each hard nipple in between his teeth and runs his tongue over them, and the fire burns hotter. One hand snakes its way between my legs to my slit, and easily slides in between my slippery folds. I groan as he moves his fingers inside me as the heel of his hand presses against my throbbing clit. I reach for him as well, eager to wrap my fingers around that rigid, thick, heavy cock. The warmth and softness of the stretched skin is matched only by the hardness of him, and I gratefully squeeze the proof of his desire as he moans deeply.
“Janie,” he grunts. “Fuck me now. I have to be inside you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, and climb on top of him. I lower myself onto his hard shaft, each inch stretching and filling me until I’m whole with him. “I love you,” I breathe as he bucks softly inside me. Our eyes meet and he quickens his pace until we’re both sweating, contorted, crying out. When he’s ready to come, he lifts me with his hands and slides me down his cock slowly and tantalizingly until he shoots inside, and the warm wetness fills me over and over and I come around his cock.
It’s as close as I’ve felt to another human being.
”I love you, Janie, you know that?” His eyes search mine, intent and grave. “Never forget that. And I’m going to do everything I can to earn your love for keeps.”
“You have it,” I say, and slide off him to occupy the space beside him on the bed. “You’re my husband now.”
His eyes close and he touches my skin softly, running his hand along my arm and side. My skin gathers to his touch, goosebumps rising as he strokes me.
As we lay there in the afterglow I wonder about my mother again.
“I wonder where George was?” I say. “I didn’t want to ask mom at the wedding.”
“Yeah he didn’t make it, did he?” He turns his head to look at me.
“You didn’t do anything, did you?” I ask suddenly.
He laughs. “No. But it’s still a good thing, right? In fact, maybe we should offer your mother one of the guest houses so she’s not so dependent on George in the first place.”
My heart leaps. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course!” he says. “I want you to be happy, and when you worry about her, you’re not. If we have her close, with a good security system—”
“And a support system,” I interrupt.
“Yes, and a support system,” he says, “she’ll know that she’s not at the mercy of a guy like George. And she can get all the care she needs.”
I snuggle close to him. “I knew deep down you were the man for me,” I say. I breathe in his scent, filling my nose with him, and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for making my life complete,” he answers softly, and I feel ready to take on the world.
Excerpt from Bucked by Jess Bentley
Chastity
“Howdy ma’am, I think you dropped something.”
The hand that holds out the small piece of paper is strong, tanned, veiny. Long-fingered. My eyes trail across the muscular forearm, the rolled-up sleeves straining over strong biceps and broad shoulders, and settle on a pair of dark eyes. They flash, framed by a fringe of dark eyelashes underneath the shade of a black cowboy hat. I’m momentarily speechless, struck by their fierce intensity.
I force myself to rip my eyes away. That’s the last thing I need, a gorgeous man holding out a gorgeous hand to me. I take the paper, and glance at it quickly. It’s a receipt. And of course, it’s for tequila. I can feel the blush beginning in my neck and crawling up my cheeks. I hope he didn’t look at it. Gah.
“Thanks,” I say q
uickly, sneaking another look at him. The strong jaw, the collar open at the neck, just the beginning of bronzed pecs, all are tempting my eye to explore further.
“Why, you’re very welcome,” he says, his southern accent dripping like honey.
I’m not sure what to say. The way he’s looking at me right now, expectantly, intently, I can tell he wants something. Something I’m not sure I can give anymore. Or ever again. It’s the last thing I want, to engage with such a man. And besides that, there’s danger behind that sweet voice. Behind those gorgeous eyes. Something dark. I can tell, because I’ve got my own darkness. I keep it hidden as much as possible. But there are some things you just can’t hide. Takes one to know one, is what they say, and it’s true.
He clears his throat, touches me lightly on the shoulder, and says, “Well, you have a nice day now.”
The touch shouldn’t affect me, but it does. I want more, but at the same time I want to get away from him as fast as I can.
“Thanks, you as well.” I start to walk away, but then he grabs my arm lightly. His fingers electrify me, like touching a live wire.
“You’re not from around here are you?” His eyelids lower slightly and he flicks them open to move over my body, then back to my eyes. It’s a lazy look, and an entitled one. I should be mad. But I’m not. Damn men like him. Men with slow grins, revealing perfect rows of dangerous white teeth.
“No, I’m not. I just moved here.”
Is it that obvious that I’m an outsider? I’m sure it’s my accent, but I’ve felt like one all my life. Can’t I just belong somewhere? It’s my turn to be embarrassed again. I wonder when his turn will come to be embarrassed. Probably never.
“Where did you move from?” he asks, somehow conspiratorially, making me feel like we’re the only ones in the room.
“From Canada,” I say, and grin.
“Canada huh? Is that in Texas?” He winks. “See you sometime, Canada.”
The heat that was reddening my cheeks travels in a flash down my body to my core. And to my mortification, I actually feel myself getting wet. I don’t know how he’s done this in just a few moments. With my last boyfriend, the man who eventually became my husband, I don’t think that ever happened. And we were together five years. But this man has done what my husband never could in only the span of a few words? Impossible. But undeniable.
I try not to watch him walk away. Lacey comes up behind me, two brightly colored drinks in her hands, each with a little paper umbrella sticking out. She hands me one and when she leans in, she whispers, “Oh my God, Chastity, do you know who that guy was?”
“I want to say, ‘the hottest man I’ve ever seen,’ but other than that, no.”
I’m sure the remnants of the blush are still on my cheeks, along with an embarrassed smile. Lacey’s eyes are flashing with excitement.
“Well, yeah, he is, but he’s even more than that.” She’s whispering now, but I’ve never heard her sound so thrilled. not that I’ve known her that long, but I’m not sure if I’ve heard anybody sound that thrilled. “That was the biggest friggin’ cowboy rodeo star who’s ever set foot in Texas.”
“You know I’m not into that kind of thing,” I say.
“How do you know? Have you ever been to the rodeo?”
She’s got me there. “No, that’s true, I’ve never been… but I’ve also never had a single urge to go in my entire life.”
That is, before this very moment. I wouldn’t mind seeing those eyes again, but from a safe spot, way up in the stands. Hundreds of feet away.
“I’m getting us tickets,“ Lacey says firmly. “It’s happening.”
It’s useless to argue with her. “I didn’t even know you needed tickets for the rodeo,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Well, I’m certain you’re going to learn a lot down here,” she grins wickedly. “About a lot of things.”
“You’re probably right about that.” It’s true, Texas is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. But it’ll be my home for a while, so I might as well make the most of it. “But I’m not sure I want to learn anything from that cowboy.”
We sit down in tall chairs at a table overlooking the track. As she sips her drink, Lacey’s eyes widen. “Mmm, pineapple, my favorite,” she says. “So sweet.”
Sweet like that man’s voice. “So what’s the name of that guy?” I ask, looking away, trying to seem casual. So much for changing the subject, I guess. I can’t get off it even if I want to.
“I heard his name used to be Kent, but now he goes by something else.”
“What?”
“Kanen. They call him The Wrecker.” A smile begins on her face. “And I bet he can wreck some things pretty good.”
I bet she’s right. My mind goes back to those hands, large delicate-fingered hands. I imagine them going around my waist, pulling me close, in my hair. These are hands that could be a pianist’s, a surgeon’s, anything that requires delicacy and strength. I know exactly what the perfect strength and controlled hands could do to me. Not to mention the rest of him.
And I need to make sure that they never do.
I try to keep my mind on the racetrack, on the fun day out that Lacey has planned for us, but it’s not easy. These unexpected feelings toward Kent, or Kanen, or whatever it is that he calls himself, have really unsettled me. There’s a sensation in my heart that hasn’t been there for a long time, maybe ever. And it’s not altogether pleasant. When I came to Texas, I wasn’t planning on getting involved with any man, much less a famous rodeo cowboy. So why I’ve suddenly had such a strong reaction to this man I only just met is frightening me. And I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with such a feeling.
I shake my head to clear it. I’ve gotta lighten up. Lacey wants to have fun, to enjoy the weather and the excitement of the horse races, not to watch me to obsess over a man that I don’t even know, simply because he’s gorgeous. And electric.
She’s holding the race schedule, and she seems super excited about the next race. “So what you say? Is it going to be Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag in the fifth?” She studies the schedule a little more. “Hey wait, how about this one? Rodeo Clown? Maybe you should bet on him!” Her laugh is innocent and fun, but the last thing I want to do is bet on this horse.
In more ways than one.
You see, I came here to Texas to forget. To forget what it was like to be in love, what it was to be with a man, to rely on one, even to expect his baby. Because the last time it happened, it ended in a way that nobody would’ve foreseen—but nonetheless I’m the one who has to live with the consequences.
My husband, Jeffrey, and I were high school sweethearts. And it seemed like everyone always knew we would be married. And once we had, it wasn’t long before we were expecting a child. So when he got into the car wreck, with me in the passenger seat, and his failing eyes stared at me as the motor roared, wheels spinning on the side of the road, well... I lost a lot of things that day. My hope for the future, my husband, and, in a mere few hours more, my unborn baby. The impact was too much, and the airbag hit my belly too hard, I guess. They tried to save Jeff, but the surgery didn’t take, and there was nothing anyone could do.
The saddest thing about it was how excited Jeff had seemed, planning to have a baby with me. Sometimes he acted even more excited than I was. He would go over baby names on the internet, and come to me with different ideas all the time. Sometimes he wanted to name the child after his dad, to keep it in the family, and sometimes he imagined funny names that would be more appropriate for a rock star’s or an actor’s baby. I guess I thought that meant he was excited, anyway.
“Hey girl, where’d you go?” Lacey’s peering in my eyes, her smile questioning. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”
“Sorry about that, you didn’t.” I’m not really sure how to explain what I was thinking about to her. Nobody wants to hear such a sad story. Not even me. I’ve tried to forget it so many times. After all, that life is never com
ing back. Nothing can ever change that fact, so thinking about it and talking about it seems needlessly painful. But unfortunately, I can’t always control this mind of mine. “I was just thinking about getting a job,” I lie. No reason to bother her with my problems.
She seems relieved. “Oh hey, about that. Remember I told you I could ask my boss if there were any openings at the restaurant?”
“Oh yeah, what did he say?” Shit, I think. Waitressing, not my forte.
“He wants you to come in for an interview, as soon as possible.” She wrinkled her nose. “As long as you’re okay with being a waitress like me.”
I don’t really need a ton of money. Luckily for me, Jeffrey thought ahead, and even the meager life insurance he bought for our little family is going to keep me going for a little while, especially since it’s just me now. But what I wasn’t counting on was how much I needed just the interaction with people. Moving to a new place can be lonely, and working in a restaurant might be perfect to keep my mind off what’s happened. There’s no chance to think of anything, to face my past.
Or the future.
Kanen
“Why’d you drag me here anyway,” says Jack with a grin, “if all you wanna do is pick up girls?”
“Hey man, just because you strike out…”
I let the sentence trail off as I wink at him. I don’t know why my best buddy here doesn’t do as well with girls as I do. From what I can tell he seems like a good-looking guy. Blond, strong jaw, blue eyes. Good job as a lawyer. Isn’t that what they like? I guess not, because what they like is me.
I’ve been brushing off women the whole time we’ve been here at the track. All kinds. Sure, some of them catch my eye, especially that dark-haired chick from Canada. Maybe I should’ve gotten her name, her number, but I won’t worry about it. Women come and go.
Still, there’s something about her. she seems special somehow. Innocent. And damn good-looking.
“This is supposed to be a guy’s day,” Jack says. “You know I’m not in town long.”
