by Leslie North
"Still living with that foxy farmer, are we?" Eva asked playfully. Heather could practically see her baby sister’s mischievous look.
She rolled her eyes. "He has a ranch, not a farm," she corrected. "And he's really a veterinarian. And it's not the way you're making it sound, Eva. You know that."
"So you're not calling to dish about a new romance?" Eva asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. It was ridiculous, but the mere mention of a romance between her and Randy was enough to make Heather’s stomach do somersaults.
"No," she said with thinly veiled exasperation. "I'm not. I'm calling to see if there's any news—any developments on the contract front."
"Oh," Eva said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "That. I don't have anything concrete for you yet, but there's plenty of interest out there. It's going to happen, Heather, really. You just need to trust me."
"I know," Heather sighed, sliding onto one of the kitchen's barstools and slumping against its back. "I'm sorry. I’ve got to stop badgering you. I know I need to trust you and let you do your thing. It just doesn't come so easily to me these days."
"Is he still trying to contact you?" Eva asked, suddenly quieter.
"Of course he is," Heather answered, chewing her bottom lip. The mere thought of Brad made her feel nauseated, and she looked over her shoulder as if her ex might be standing behind her at this very moment.
"And what does Randy think about that?" Eva demanded.
"Nothing!" Heather hissed, reddening at the thought of delving so deeply into her personal sob story with Randy. "I haven't even told him. It's not any of his business."
"Look, Heather," Eva sighed, sounding very much like the big sister in this scenario. "I love you, and I know you've been dealt a rough hand, but I also know you really, really well. You like this guy, and from what you've told me, he sounds like one of the good ones."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Heather whispered, trying to ignore the tears welling up in her weary eyes.
"Oh yes, you do," Eva insisted. "And it's okay. If anyone deserves to fall for a truly chivalrous dude, you’re it. I just wish you would let yourself. Because at a certain point, you're going to have to stop letting your past dictate your future. Otherwise, you're never going to figure out how to be happy."
"Just keep me updated about the contract thing, okay?" Heather said weakly. It was a terrible response to her sister's genuine sentiment, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. She was too tired and far too confused.
"You know I will, sis," Eva said with a sigh. "And you think about what I said."
The two sisters hung up, and despite knowing that she should go and check on Randy and the kids, Heather simply sat there. She was going to think about what Eva had said, all right, as much as she didn't want to. She didn't know how to stop herself because deep down, if she was being honest with herself, she understood that she was falling for Randy McCall, whether she liked it or not. It was the worst, stupidest mistake she could make given the circumstances, but that had never stopped her before.
"I am in so much trouble," she whispered to herself, finally allowing her tears to fall.
10
"See? Now, this wasn't such a bad idea, after all, was it?" Randy asked, taking a sip from his glass of wine. One ear was tuned to hear any noise from the twins, but they seemed to have gone out like a light without even half the usual bedtime calls for a drink of water or visit to the bathroom. Before Heather had come to stay at the ranch, he had been more of a beer guy, but he thought he could get used to this new, more refined adult beverage of choice. There were a lot of things about Heather being there that Randy thought he could get used to, much as it unnerved him to admit it to himself.
"No," Heather agreed, her smile belying her grudging tone. "I suppose it wasn't."
"So it looks like I've got a good idea or two up my sleeve, then?" Randy said, his face breaking into what he hoped was a charming grin. Heather rolled her eyes, but her cheeks colored prettily, and she took another swallow of her wine before getting to her feet and beginning to clear the supper dishes.
"It was a good idea," she called over her shoulder. "But let's not beat a dead horse, okay? I could probably go off the idea entirely, given the proper motivation."
"Beat a dead horse, huh?" Randy chuckled, standing and stretching, then collecting more of the dishes remaining on the table. "Looks like some of the country life is starting to rub off on you."
Heather laughed in response and shrugged her shoulders, the sound of the kitchen sink's running water drowning out any other response she might have made. For a moment, Randy stood and watched her wash the dishes, trying to come to terms with the unreality of what he was feeling. He had enjoyed having dinner with Heather, was enjoying doing mundane things like cleaning up afterward. He thought that this must be what people meant when they talked about domestic bliss, and for the first time in his life, he was starting to understand the appeal. The only problem was, it scared the dickens out of him.
He’d been the one to suggest that the two of them have an adults-only supper after Amelia and Andy’s bedtime, a process he'd been trying to help out with more and more. It had started with reading their bedtime stories a couple days ago, when he’d noticed that she looked tired and figured she could use a break. He'd thought Heather resented his butting in at first, but hoped her gratitude at having some help would outweigh any reservations she might feel. She certainly hadn't seemed upset by the idea of having a quiet supper for once, especially since he had offered to do the cooking.
He hadn't meant it to be a date, at least not consciously, even though that was exactly what it had turned out to be. He found he wasn't sorry about that, either, although he had to admit some wariness remained.
Clearing his throat, he moved closer, intending only to add the dishes in his hands to those soaking in the sink. Standing beside her, though, he caught a whiff of her perfume, and when his hand brushed against hers, he made no attempt to break the contact. Instead, he ran his thumb lightly up and down the side of her hand that had put down the silverware it was holding and was now gripping the edge of the countertop tightly. Even this small amount of physical contact with her gave him goosebumps. He could only imagine what it would feel like to explore further. All of a sudden, he wanted to find out for real so badly, it was almost painful.
"What is this, Randy?" she asked, sounding breathless, her hair falling in her face and hiding her eyes. "What are we doing?"
"I don't know," he answered truthfully, his head thick and slow with wanting her. "I don't want to give you any illusions, Heather. I—I'm not great with relationships. I've only ever really had one, and I walked away from it. Maybe a mistake."
"Gee," she said with a little laugh, a valiant attempt at sarcasm that fell short of hitting its mark. "What a wonderful sales pitch."
"I know. I suck at this," he said, clenching his jaw with frustration. As if it had a mind of his own, his finger stroked the smoothness of her hand as he went on. "But I care about you, Heather, I know that much. More than I have for anyone in a long time."
"Look," she said softly, her voice hardly above a whisper as she finally turned to face him. Her lovely blue eyes were wide and shining, her breath coming fast. She was beautiful enough to break a man's heart.
Randy could only hope that he wouldn't break hers. "Say it, Heather," he said huskily, not sure that he really wanted her to put a stop to this thing before it could begin. "Say whatever it is you need to say. I'm listening."
"It's just...I've been hurt, Randy," she said quietly, clearly uncomfortable with the admission and yet never breaking eye contact. "My marriage didn't only end, it ended catastrophically.” She swallowed hard, and he watched the movement of her throat like a man hypnotized. “I can't let myself be hurt like that again.”
"I don't want to hurt you," he said earnestly, taking her hands in his. At her responding flinch, he took a step back and released her hands. "Do you want me to sto
p?"
He suffered through a second of silence that felt like forever. Part of him, probably the more responsible part, wanted her to say yes so that they could find their way out of this most dangerous of territories. A much bigger part of him, however, was aching for her to give in because at the moment, the feeling of wanting her was overwhelming.
"No," she finally whispered, shaking her head violently enough to send her blonde hair flying. "No, please, Randy. Don't stop."
One moment, he was standing there like a boy waiting to see if his invitation to prom would be accepted, and the next, his lips were moving hungrily over hers.
He plunged his hands into her hair, letting the silky strands glide along his fingers as her lips parted to admit his curious tongue. She tasted like the strawberries blooming in the rows on her farm, and although he wanted to tell her so, he couldn't tear himself loose long enough to do so.
Her hands flew to his shirt, an old white tee, the type he wore most days when he worked on the farm. He should have put on something nicer, he knew that now, but it hadn't occurred to him that things would go this way. When she tugged the hem of his shirt upward, though, he pulled back, going against every instinct now driving him forward.
"Are you sure?" he asked, finding it hard to catch his breath and mentally kicking himself, half expecting her to come to her senses and put the brakes on here and now.
But she laughed, throwing her head back to expose her lovely, creamy-white neck. Then she leaned forward and kissed his exposed chest, small kisses followed by a slow, probing lick. He gasped and closed his eyes. When she rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again, she tasted like the salt from his own skin.
"Don't ask silly questions," she commanded, breaking away, leaving him wanting more. He had the feeling he would never get tired of kissing this woman, no matter how many times he was fortunate enough to do so.
He moved his hands to her hips, taking hold and clutching almost greedily as her fingers moved to the top button of her summer dress. She undid it, then the next, moving with expert efficiency. As she undressed, her eyes poured into his. He stood transfixed, feeling for all the world like he had never been with a woman before in his life. Everything was moving in slow motion. At the same time, things were progressing more quickly than he thought possible—in no time flat, she was in nothing but her bra and a thong so small, it might as well not have been there at all.
"Good Lord," he croaked, his eyes unashamedly devouring her trim yet voluptuous body. "You are the most wonderful thing I've ever seen. Like a genuine miracle." He squeezed his eyes shut, blushing at hearing his own babbling, but popped them open again quickly to feast on the sight of her.
"Oh, brother," she groaned, making a show of putting her palm up to her forehead and rolling her eyes. "You better take me now, Randy, before you say something neither one of us will be able to recover from."
Although Randy didn't always take kindly to direction, this was one order he didn't mind following. He unclasped her bra quickly, falling upon the task as if his life depended on it. She moved in to brush her lips against his throat, and when her bare breasts pressed against his chest, he groaned again, so hard now that it hurt. Their hands went for his belt buckle at the same time, causing both to laugh as they fumbled together until they could get it undone and his zipper down. Her hand finally wrapped around him, and he thought he might die of pleasure from that sensation alone.
"Should we move this to the bedroom?" he asked, leaning into her and speaking into the hollow of her neck. Feeling her shake her head, he pulled back in surprise. If she put a stop to things now, it was like killing him.
"No?" he asked, looking at her face incredulously.
"Nope," she confirmed, a devious twinkle in her eyes. "Why wait for the bedroom when there's a perfectly good kitchen island right here?"
"But what about the kids?" Randy asked, although his mouth was already watering with anticipation.
"Nothing to worry about there," she said with a smile, squirming out of his grasp and giving him a come-hither look before walking over to the island and hopping up. "When those kiddos are asleep for the night, not even a tornado can wake them up. Unless you've changed your mind…"
Randy made a beeline for her, nearly tripping over the pants pooled around his ankles. She laughed, a wild, free sound, unlike anything he had ever heard from her before. He liked the sound so much that he almost hated to silence her with a kiss. Except that he couldn't not kiss her as he wrapped one arm around her to pull her closer, using his free hand to guide himself inside of her, both of them gasping in the same breath.
It wasn't perfect, but he couldn’t imagine the first time between two people ever would be. Going in to kiss her, Randy managed to bump against her forehead, hard, and then he almost lost his rhythm entirely due to mortification and concern that he might have hurt her. Instead of being upset, though, she merely laughed and wrapped her legs more tightly around him. He wasn't absolutely sure he was doing it right, or at least, not exactly what he needed to do to please her.
But at a certain point, everything between them seemed to click. He found his stride, and the movement of his hips grew more urgent with each thrust. She matched his pace perfectly, the two completely in synch, and when they climaxed, they came together, Heather biting down on his shoulder to muffle her cries.
Randy had no idea what would happen between them in the long run, but for the time being, he didn't care. He was sure he had felt this level of contentment at some point in the past, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember when it might have been. He had fallen for this woman, fallen for her hard. While it might prove to be a problem, this was one he planned to save for another day.
11
Heather spent the next few days vacillating between being over the moon about what had happened between them and being scared out of her mind. Sex with Randy had been the best sex of her life, without a doubt. Even thinking about it days later made her tingle all over with excitement and the hope that it would happen again. As far as her body was concerned, there was no confusion at all.
On the other hand, by jumping into the proverbial sack with Randy, she had made everything more complicated, exactly what she had been determined not to do. Playing at housekeeper while hobbling around on her crutches had been bad enough. Now, she had no idea what was going on between them. Did she even know what she wanted? No, which for her was one of the worst things of all, making her feel out of control, something she had promised herself would never happen with another man. Add to that the fact that Randy had been especially busy with the vet practice due to a string of emergencies. They’d had barely enough time to exchange smiles coming and going, let alone have a chance to talk about what had happened. The longest time they’d had together was when she’d come downstairs last night to get a drink of water and found him asleep on the couch, and his phone had gone off with another urgent summons even as she’d been draping a blanket over him. He’d left and not been back since.
She was going back and forth on the matter, probably well on the way to driving herself crazy in the process, when her own phone rang. The twins were down for their naps, sleeping hard after alternating vigorous play with following her all over the farmhouse as she’d cleaned in the morning, and Heather was excited to hear the phone. It might be Randy, catching a breather at last. It was also about the right time of day for Eva to be calling, maybe with good news on the contract front.
Despite her worries over what it might mean in the long run, her unexpected encounter with Randy had her believing that things might honestly be on the upswing again. This thought, coupled with how distracted she had been since that steamy kitchen rendezvous, that led her to answering her phone without checking the caller’s identity. She realized the mistake almost as soon as she put the receiver up to her ear, but by then, it was too late. That was the problem with allowing yourself to feel happiness—it made you start to forget, made you reckless. And if anyone in the wo
rld understood how dangerous recklessness could be, it was Heather.
"Oh! Finally answering our phone now, are we, Heather? Finally starting to come around to seeing some common freaking sense."
The sound of the voice made Heather feel cold all over even though the air conditioner was currently losing its battle with the heat. She didn't need caller ID to know who was on the other end of the phone. She could have picked Brad's voice out of a crowd of a thousand people all talking at once. When you were as afraid of somebody as she was of her ex-husband, that was the kind of thing you simply didn't forget.
"Brad," she whispered, wishing desperately that she could sound more assertive but incapable of summoning the strength. "Brad, I—"
"Don't you tell me you have to go, Heather," he growled in the commanding voice he had used with her practically since their wedding night. "I've been trying to get you to pick up the phone in the first place for long enough, haven't I? I think I deserve the basic human respect of being heard."
And just like that, Heather was back in the thick of it, back in California where everything had first gone bad and then gotten worse. In the beginning, when she’d still been in high school, everything had been new and oh so exciting, and Brad had been the most charming man she’d ever met. Even now, after every awful thing that had happened, his voice still had power over her. Like a puppy that had been kicked too many times and couldn't stop going back to her master for a treat, she felt the old, familiar tug to fall into line. What she’d gone through with Brad had been terrible, sometimes unspeakable, but it was familiar. She had to physically shake her head, biting down hard on her tongue, to pull herself out of that old mentality, away from the ghostly voice of who she had once been. She was no longer Brad's victim, and she would do well to remember that. After all, she’d fought hard enough for her freedom.
