He pulled his mouth from hers, dragged his lips along the smooth column of her throat. Traced the edges of her ear with his tongue, hearing the echoes of her harsh breathing mixing with his own. He reached between them, his hand searching for the seatbelt release, heard the soft click as first his then hers popped free.
He pulled away long enough to free them from the straps, then he grabbed her, pulling her across the console and settling her on his lap. Kissing, touching, never letting go as the air around them turned warm and humid, fogging the windshield, adding to the fire burning inside him.
He caught her mouth again. Seeking. Claiming. He dragged his hand along her sides, eased them inside her sweater. Skimmed the warm flesh of her stomach, her sides. Higher, to the fullness of breasts. She sighed into his mouth and pressed against his palm, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he gently pinched one taut nipple through the thin lace of her bra.
"I need you, ma cocotte. Here. Now. Always." He uttered the words in French, needing to say them but not so she could understand. Not yet. This, what he was feeling...it was too powerful. Too potent. Too new, after being apart for so long. Too strong. So strong, the earth rumbled with the force of it. Louder, the air around them vibrating with it.
Corbin pulled away, frowning, some small instinct of warning flicking to life. But it was too late. He heard the pounding on the window, turned to see a fist banging against the glass.
Coach Donovan, glaring at him through the partially fogged window, his eyes blazing with fury. And beyond him, another man. Tall, lean, but with the build of a lethal predator ready to attack.
And with eyes nearly identical to the ones belonging to the woman on his lap.
"Fuck."
Chapter Twenty
Lori reached into the back seat and grabbed her scarf, the thick woolen one that was wide enough to be used as a shawl if she needed to. She looped it in half, draped it around her neck, then pulled the ends through the loop.
Tempted to do the same to her uncle and father, only she'd tighten it a lot more.
She slammed the door, hard, then moved to the front of the car and leaned against the hood. How long had Uncle Ian and Corbin been gone? Long enough that the heat from the engine was nearly gone. Long enough that the heavy flakes of snow were beginning to cover the roof and windshield of her car.
This was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous.
She slid a glance toward her father, ready to tell him exactly that, then snapped her mouth shut. It was better to not say anything, not when he was standing there, brows lowered over dark eyes, his arms folded in front of him. At least he wasn't standing at attention, or pacing with short, clipped steps, like he was chewing out his squad or platoon or whatever it was called for screwing something up. She took that as a good sign. It didn't happen very often—her dad was generally too laid back for that. But on those rare occasions when he started that clipped pacing, look out, because that meant he was beyond furious.
Which was only marginally better when he simply stood there, statue-still.
Like he was doing right now.
Lori looked toward the big barn, the heavy planks and thick stone dark against the steely light. She sighed and slid a cautious glance toward her father.
"Um, how much longer do you think they're going to be?"
Her father's gaze slid to hers, held it for the space of several heartbeats—long enough that she started to squirm—then looked away. "As long as it takes."
She squelched the urge to stomp her foot. "This is ridiculous. You know that, right? We weren't doing anything. Uncle Ian had no business marching him off behind the barn the way he did."
That look again, stone quiet, hiding all hints of thought or emotion. "Better your uncle than me."
"Oh my God. Really?" She pushed away from the car and started pacing, back and forth, each step filled with frustration. "Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore. And we weren't doing anything! It was just a kiss. That's all."
She tried not to wince at the lie. Yes, it had been a kiss—but there had been nothing just about it. And if they had come up to the car ten minutes later...she shuddered, not wanting to imagine what they may have seen.
And she was pretty sure her father knew it, too.
"Just be glad that's all it was."
"Dad—"
"Don't dad me." He uncrossed his arms and jammed his hands into the pockets of the thick barn coat. Was that a good sign? She wasn't sure and didn't dare interrupt him to ask. "Do you have any idea what it's like to walk up on your daughter making out with some guy you've never met?"
"Dad, I'm twenty-eight. It's not like I've never been kissed before." And ouch. That was such the wrong thing to say, she knew it as soon as the words left her mouth. Knew it as soon as she saw the flash of anger and denial in her father's eyes. "I didn't mean—"
"Tell me again exactly how long you've known this guy."
"Corbin?"
"Is there another guy I need to worry about?"
Lori stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the last second. "No, Dad. No other guys."
He ignored her sarcasm. "Yes, Corbin. How long?"
"Ten years."
"Ten years, hm? And he's the one you were telling me about the other week. The one you had that crush on all those years ago."
"Yeah."
"The same one you haven't seen in...I'm sorry. Refresh my memory. How long has it been?"
She dropped her gaze to the gravel drive, focusing on the dusting of snow gathered at her feet. Her voice was barely more than a mumble when she answered. "Um, I'm not sure—"
"I seem to recall you saying something about him just being traded to the Banners. Or did I misunderstand that?"
"Um, no."
"So he's been back for what, a month?"
"Uh, almost two. I think."
"You think. And you saw him again for the first time...when was it?"
She swallowed, kicked a stone with the toe of her boot. "A few weeks ago."
"A few weeks. You're making out with a guy you haven't seen in years after only a few weeks."
Frustration bubbled through her veins. Her head snapped up and she frowned at her father. "Wow. Really? And how long did you know Alyce before bringing her home? Um, let me see. What was it? Two weeks? After she picked you up on the side of the road?"
A small flush tinged his cheeks and he quickly looked away—but only for a second. "Don't even think of comparing the situations. I was older than you—"
"Dad, that was twelve years ago. You were thirty-five—not that much older and—"
"Old enough—"
"—and it worked, didn't it? You guys have been married all this time and you're happy. Isn't that what counts?"
"Are you telling me you want to marry this guy? That you're in love with him?"
"No. No, of course not." But she couldn't look her father in the eye when she said it, not when the lie left a such a bitter taste in her mouth. Did she love him? She didn't think she had ever stopped. Did she want to marry him? Spend the rest of her life with him?
No way was she allowing herself to go there.
"Jake! It's time."
She jumped at Uncle Ian's shout, looked over toward the barn. He was standing just outside the door, Corbin several feet behind him. Their faces were hidden by the shadows but there was something about the way Corbin was standing, about the way they were both standing—
"Oh my God, if Uncle Ian hit him, I'll—"
"Not now. Grab the four-wheeler and bring it into the barn."
"But—"
"Now, Lori. We need to watch Annabelle with this calf and make sure she doesn't lose it."
"Now? Isn't it too early? I thought—"
"Since when has Annabelle ever paid attention to the calendar?" Her dad spun on his heel and headed up the hill toward the barn, his steps leaving tracks in the fresh snow. Lori hesitated but only for a second before hurrying to the four-wheeler several feet away. She straddled the s
now-covered seat and started it, the powerful engine rumbling between her legs as she threw it in gear and headed toward the barn.
Uncle Ian slid the door open wide enough for her to enter. She maneuvered the machine into the near corner, cut the engine and climbed off, her gaze darting toward Corbin. His face was still in the shadows but she thought she saw a deeper shadow on his cheek. If Uncle Ian—
A low bawl echoed from the far stall, the sound long, filled with distress. Lori pushed all thoughts of whatever may have happened between Corbin and Uncle Ian from her mind. There would be time for that later, after they took care of Annabelle.
Her dad opened the stall door and walked in, followed by Uncle Ian. Lori stood at the entrance, her gaze taking in Annabelle's large form laying in the middle of the straw. Her head twisted to the side, her wide brown eyes taking in the newcomers. Then she dropped her head against the stall floor and exhaled. Her swollen belly heaved and rolled, the imprint of a hoof, or maybe a nose, pressing against it from the inside.
Uncle Ian knelt by Annabelle's head, rubbing her neck as he talked to her. Her dad dropped to his knees by Annabelle's back side, his voice low and calm as he whispered soft words of reassurance to the cow. He moved her tail out of the way, bent down for a closer look, straightened and shook his head.
"Lori, hand me a pair of gloves."
She moved to the old cabinet set up along the wall, reached in and grabbed a handful of the long gloves and carried them over. Her dad removed his coat and sweatshirt, handing them to her in exchange for the gloves.
"What's he doing?" Corbin's voice was quiet, almost hesitant, filled with reluctant curiosity.
"He's going to check on the calf, make sure it's okay." She handed him her dad's coat and sweatshirt, added her own coat and scarf to the pile in his arms and stepped into the stall.
"Check? But—how?"
She turned back, grinned at the shock on his pale face. "How do you think?"
Corbin murmured something in French, which made her uncle swallow back a chuckle. Wasn't that interesting? Just one more thing she'd have a dozen questions about—later, after they delivered the calf.
Her father sat back on his heels, frowning. Lori knelt next to him and placed a gentle hand on Annabelle's rump. "What is it?"
"I think it's breech. I can't tell—it's wedged in there so tight, I can't get a good feel. Lori—"
"Yeah, I got it." She pushed the sleeves of her sweater up past her elbow, then grabbed a second pair of the long gloves and slid her hands inside. Then she bent down and inserted her hand past Annabelle's swollen flesh, murmuring soft words as she felt around.
She closed her eyes, using her mind to navigate the slick canal. Her fingers brushed against something hard and she reached even deeper, her head nearly resting against Annabelle's rump. There. The hard point of a hoof, the bony length of leg. She traced the leg up, curving her fingers around the joint. Up further, following to where it met the body. Reaching, tracing, searching for the head—
A strong contraction squeezed her arm, making her gasp. Annabelle tossed her head, kicked out with one leg and started to move until Uncle Ian grabbed her more firmly, using his low voice to calm her.
A large hand dropped to her shoulder, her father's hand, its weight heavy and reassuring. "Lori—"
"I'm good. Just give me a sec." She breathed through the contraction, ignoring the vice-like grip squeezing her arm, then let out a quick sigh of relief when the contraction ended.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good." She turned her focus back to her search, easing her hand along the calf's back, searching for the head, hoping to feel ears or a nose. Just a few more inches, just a little more—
She swore under her breath and shook her head. "It's breech."
"Damn." Her father slid closer, his hand reaching to push and prod against the cow's belly. "Both legs together?"
Lori closed her eyes, continued with her search. "No, I don't think so."
"How about the sack?"
"Still intact, as far as I can tell."
Her dad scooted around her, his gaze resting on Annabelle's heaving sides, on the sweat coating her neck. He looked over at Ian. "What do you think? Should we wait?"
Lori watched her uncle's face as he leaned down and whispered to Annabelle, the words too low to hear. She didn't need to hear them, not when she had seen Uncle Ian do this numerous times in the past. He seemed to have a knack for understanding when to let nature take its course...and when to help it out. She didn't understand it—Uncle Ian had never even seen a cow before he met her aunt—but she didn't question it.
And neither did her father.
Uncle Ian raised his head and gave it a small shake. "I think Annabelle would appreciate a little help. The sooner, the better."
"Help it is." Her dad looked over his shoulder, back at Corbin, who was still standing there clutching the pile of outerwear against his chest. "Time to see what you're made of. Grab those chains behind you and get in here."
Corbin's eyes widened just a little. He looked behind him, like he was hoping her dad was talking to someone else, then turned back. "Chains?"
"Yes, the chains. Right there on the hook behind you. Now." The last word was an unmistakable order, issued with the authority honed in all his years as an officer. Lori smothered a smile when Corbin jumped, then quickly dropped the pile of outwear on top of the four-wheeler and grabbed the chains. He hurried into the stall, slipping in a pile of muck and nearly falling. He regained his balance at the last second then stood there, equal parts of surprise and dismay on his chiseled face.
Lori leaned forward, her gaze falling on the dark bruise on Corbin's cheek. She narrowed her eyes and turned to her uncle. "You hit him? You actually hit him?"
"Lori, not now."
"But—" She snapped her mouth closed at the expression on her father's face, then gave her uncle one last glare—and finally noticed the slight swelling at the corner of his mouth, right near a small cut on his lip. She didn't bother to hide her grin, even if it did earn her a dirty look from her uncle.
"Corbin, I need you over there." Her dad pointed to the stall floor beside her. "Lori, can you manage to get the legs out enough for the chains?"
She closed her eyes again, focusing on nothing more than what her fingers were telling her. "One, yes. Two, I'm not sure."
"Two would be better."
She sighed, rested her forehead against Annabelle's rear, and continued feeling around. Another contraction, this one a little longer, a little stronger—and just enough for her to grab the calf's other leg. "I've got it. Not sure if I can get it into position, though."
"Do what you can." He scooted around her, taking the chains from Corbin and straightening them. "Let me know when you're ready."
"I'd rather wait for another contraction, see if it drops a little more first—"
"Lori, I don't think we can." Uncle Ian's voice was still quiet and calm, but she didn't miss the underlying note of urgency.
"Shit. Okay. Hang on." And dammit, why couldn't she get both legs together? She needed both legs. Just a few inches more, that was all—
She bit back a curse and shook her head. "I can only get one."
"It'll be fine, we'll make do with one." Her father's voice, steady and reassuring as he readied the chains. "Whenever you're ready."
Lori nodded, took a deep breath and wiped her forehead against her shoulder. Then she grabbed the sack, grunting a little as she tore it. Her hand closed over the calf's leg, just above the hoof, and pulled.
Slow, almost too slow, the calf sliding toward her an inch at a time. She adjusted her grip and tugged harder, until the leg finally came into view. Her father wrapped the end of one of the chains around it, securing it in place then handing the other end to Corbin.
"Start pulling."
Corbin hesitated but only for a second. He grabbed the chains, tugged, his face twisting in surprise when he realized how difficult it was. He readjusted
his grip and dug in with his heels, frowning in concentration as he pulled again, harder this time.
"Lori, out of the way—"
"No, wait. I can feel the other leg—"
"Lori, I said out."
"I can get it, just give me a second."
"Lori—"
She shook her head, ignoring her father's order, ignoring the concern in his voice. She was in a bad spot, knew exactly what could happen if Annabelle decided to suddenly stand. But she was close, so close—
"Got it. Here." She moved out of, darting toward the corner as her dad wrapped the other chain around the second leg. He grabbed the end and nodded at Corbin.
"Pull!"
Both men tugged, identical expressions of concentration on their faces. The calf slid further out, she could see both legs now, then its rear.
"Again!"
Annabelle bawled and twisted her head, nearly catching Uncle Ian under the chin. The calf was halfway out now, its body covered in slime.
"Pull!" Her father's voice, filled with grit and determination. Annabelle bawled again, stilled under Uncle Ian's gentle hand and reassuring voice.
She glanced over, saw Corbin tug one final time on the chain. His foot slipped out from under him and he tumbled to the ground, just behind Annabelle.
Lori started toward Corbin only to be stopped when her father held out one hand, blocking her. "Corbin, move. You need to move—"
But it was too late. The calf slid into the world with a wet plop, landing on Corbin's lower legs. And immediately following the calf came a gush of fluid, splashing against straw and concrete, dousing the calf...and Corbin.
Chapter Twenty-One
A fire burned in the grate, the crackle and pops of the logs the only noise in the large room. The flames emitted just enough light for Lori to make out the shadows around her: the large piano in the far corner, covered with family photographs going back generations; the bookcases lining the far wall, holding almost as many souvenirs and knick-knacks as it did books; the old wooden trunk that used to hold her great-grandfather's tools, lovingly restored years ago by her aunt and currently filled with at least a dozen different board games; the overstuffed loveseat piled high with pillows and a blanket.
Game Misconduct_A Baltimore Banners Hockey Romance Page 14
