by Casey Hagen
“They won’t be in for at least two hours; they’re running the fence line. First day with the cattle and all,” he mumbled against her skin.
“And Lisa?”
He circled to the underside of her jaw, leaving her burning from head to toe. “Wouldn’t set foot in a horse barn, even if there was a mountain of cash in it.” He let her go and stepped around her. “Just to reassure you…” Slade snapped up the blanket, walked to the back of the stack, and laid it out.
She hung back, watching him. The pulse point in her throat fluttered rapidly.
He crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”
“Is that an order?”
He winked at her. “Yeah, that’s an order.”
She did him one better; with each step, she undid a button. After the last, she let the shirt slide down her arms. The swell of her breasts thrust out over her tank top with every breath.
Her rosy skin begged to be touched.
Tasted.
Savored.
She was going to leave. Soon. Heaven help him, he wanted this, at least this, before she went. He wanted to know how it felt to be buried inside her. How she felt losing herself in sensation. He wanted those cobalt blue eyes to haze over from the overwhelming pleasure he gave her.
“I’m right here. What are you going to do with me?”
Slade reached back to his collar and dragged his T-shirt over his head. He smiled when her eyes traveled over his shoulders, chest, and lower. The way she bit her lip as she watched him unhook his belt buckle sent his blood surging through his veins.
He abandoned his jeans once he had his buckle open and his snap undone, because so much more interesting than taking of his clothes, was taking off hers.
He hooked his finger in the waistband of those cut-off jean shorts that she favored, and pulled her right up to him. Burying a hand in that long hair at the back of her head, he kissed her deeply.
There was no hesitation, no resistance; she came to him pliant and hungry, devouring him as much as he devoured her. Her hand touched him everywhere, grazing over his chest and nipples, making him hiss. He pulled her head back, taking in her swollen, damp lips, and those half- hooded eyes. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful.
And then she smiled.
A soft smile, full of secrets.
Full of power.
Full of magic.
His heart knocked hard in his chest and he fell.
Fell for her bravery.
Fell for her vulnerability.
Fell for her capacity to love and give with her whole heart.
All of a sudden he needed to go slow. He needed to memorize every swell and curve. He needed to breathe in her sweet smell until it was as much a part of him as it was of her. He needed to carve a place in his heart for every sigh, gasp, and moan.
Because tomorrow he would pay her for her time on the ranch and, with that, she had the power to walk out of his life for good.
She slid her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Slade? What is it?”
His arms flexed as they tightened around her. “I wasn’t looking for you, but here you are.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Here I am.”
He wanted to ask her for how long, but he couldn’t. He feared the answer. Feared he was in deeper than she was. So he buried the worry and kissed her, swallowing her moans.
Running his lips along her jaw, he lifted her tank top, revealing the black lace bra beneath. He hadn’t expected the fancy lingerie, but he should have. She had money. Somewhere she had a generous bank account, probably a condo, and a killer wardrobe. None of it was her. Not his Ryan.
Her soft breasts pushed up over the cups. Soft, plump, and promising.
With quick flick of his fingers her bra fell, the straps dragging down her shoulders as he pulled back. The lace cups caught on her tight, rosy nipples before the momentum of the fabric became too much and they fell away.
He ran his knuckle over the faint bruise on the side of her throat, then down over her collar bone, over the swell of her breast, and between the two, stopping only when his fingers met her shorts again. With a firm tug, the button slipped from its hole and he dragged the denim down her thighs, letting them go so they could land at her ankles.
He dropped his own pants, and then fell to the blanket to pull off his boots.
Ryan put her hands over his. “Here, let me help you.”
He leaned back and grinned. “I guess I’ll just take in the view.”
She smiled. “You do that.” She ran her hands up his pant leg, taking hold of his boot with one hand and the toe with the other.
She tugged and shifted the boot left to right, working the leather off his foot. He folded his hands behind his arms and enjoyed the view of her pink-tipped breasts swaying with every tug.
She grasped the second boot, looked up, and her eyes locked on his hard cock, waiting to be touched, tasted, buried in her wet heat. Her tongue darted out to her bottom lip before she sucked that lip into her mouth. With her eyes still on him, she tugged the boot free and tossed it behind her.
She stood before him in that tiny scrap of lace, her hands on her hips.
Sure of this, of what he wanted, telling himself there would be no regrets if she walked away, he sat up and stopped just a fraction of inch away from the heat of her. Running his hand up her thigh, he pressed his face to the lace there, and breathed her in.
Ryan swayed then braced herself with her hands on his shoulders. “You’re being so gentle…you know, I’m not breakable.”
“No. Not breakable.” He peeled the lace from her, exposing her to him.
Reaching for his jeans he pulled out a condom, something he wouldn’t have had on him if it weren’t for buying in bulk for Matt, but that was another story.
She watched him, eyes on his, as he tore the packet with his teeth and rolled the latex over his hot, hard cock. Her pretty face flushed, but she didn’t look away.
He hooked his hands behind her knees and tugged. She dropped down, her knees on either side of his hips, those round breasts ripe for the taking.
“Gorgeous,” Slade said, so close to her nipple that his lips grazed the tip.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Eyes on hers, he sucked the stiff peak into his mouth, tasting her sweet skin. Her taste would stay with him forever. If she walked away tomorrow, twenty, thirty, forty years down the line the taste of her sweet skin would still linger.
She held his head to her, shuddering in his arms.
He crawled his fingers up the inside of her thigh, his fingers meeting warm, wet flesh. Wet for him. Slade took his cock in his hands, poised it at her entrance, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto him.
She buried her face in his neck, whimpering, but already beginning to move. She rolled her hips, over and over, her whimpers turning into moans, her moans into gasps, until he thrust back, going deep, making her cry out.
With her head thrown back, her spasms squeezed him, causing everything in him to coil tight. Pulling her mouth to his he gave it all he had. He buried himself deep, pumping over and over, swallowing her cries with his greedy mouth.
When her muscles locked on him again, impossibly tight, he lost it. With a shout he came hard, his vision blurring, the pleasure, almost to the point of pain, branding him as sure as he would brand his cattle in a few days.
The mark she left on him, permanent and distinct.
Ryan curled into him and shivered. He pulled the edges of the blanket over them and she sighed.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much. Thank you.”
Slade struggled to put together his thoughts. Ryan’s soft, pliant body curled around him, fitting against him perfectly was a hell of a distraction. “So, uh,” he cleared his throat, “tomorrow’s payday.” Smooth, Slade, real smooth.
“I might have heard.”
“Do you know what your plan is, you know, after you g
et paid?”
“Myra’s going to give me a ride over to Rusty’s to get my truck.”
“And after that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been so busy here, I haven’t thought about it. My means of making a living is still broken.”
“You could stay, until you come up with a plan.”
“I’m not staying for free. I earn my way, and you’re out of bunkhouses.”
Yeah, he was, but he wanted her there. His mind scrambled for something…anything. “Ivy wanted to put in a flower garden. I’m not going to have the time, but maybe you would be willing to take on the project.”
“Slade McCall, are you inventing jobs now?”
He shrugged and felt the heat rise in his face. “It’s one less thing I would have to worry about. Branding is coming up in a couple days. I wouldn’t mind Ivy being distracted during the process.”
Ryan crinkled her nose at him. “Do they have to be branded?”
“Yes; the county requires it and if I want to keep track of my stock I have to have my brands on record. We’re freeze-branding them, so they’ll feel less pain. It costs more, but, as I’m sure you can imagine, Ivy has strong opinions on this so I’ve promised to do it the more humane, more costly way.”
“You’d do just about anything to make that little girl happy, wouldn’t you?”
“Anything.”
Ryan cupped his cheek and tipped his face down to hers. She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Then let her have her mother—”
He shifted. “That’s different.”
She pushed up on her elbow, her face right in his. “No, it’s not. My father kept my mother from me and I still resent him for it. Don’t do that to Ivy. You’re her hero. If Lisa is really what you say she is, she’ll self-destruct in her own time, and Ivy will know her father did everything possible to give her her mother.”
She asked a lot. More than he thought he had it in him to give, but he could try. He smoothed his hands over her hair, memorizing the waves under his hands. “I’ll give it a shot. That’s the best I can do.”
She smiled and kissed his lips. “Your best is just right.”
“What about the flower garden?”
She gave him a sly smile. “Well, I wouldn’t want to let Ivy down. I guess you have yourself a deal.”
***
“I noticed you and Slade went missing for a good length of time yesterday,” Myra said. She navigated the road into Fort Mavis seemingly by rote, or at least Ryan hoped, considering how much time she spent turning her eyes to Ryan.
Ryan’s skin burned under Myra’s close observation. “You noticed that, huh?”
Myra nodded and winked. “Hard to miss. Then you guys show up again, five minutes apart exactly, looking satisfied with yourselves.”
Ryan concentrated on breathing normally and not wringing her hands. “Nothing happened.”
“Honey, if you wanted me to believe that you should have picked the hay out of your hair before walking into the house.”
“It was that obvious?”
Myra turned on to the cracked asphalt parking lot in front of Rusty’s and turned off the engine. “Well, you also had your shirt on inside out.”
“This is so embarrassing.”
She turned in her seat and patted Ryan’s knee. “Nah. He cares about you. You care about him. The best part? You care about that little girl, I daresay, even more than her own mother. I respect that.”
“I’m not looking to replace her mother,” Ryan said.
Myra glanced at Ryan, her eyes solemn. “It’s hard to replace someone who isn’t there to begin with.”
Ryan had no argument for that.
Fifteen minutes later, Ryan rolled down Main Street in her truck. Rusty had been kind enough to waive the two weeks’ worth of storage fees, leaving her wallet a little fatter than she’d expected. Her priority should have been fixing her guitar, but when she spotted a couple guitars on display in the window of Fort Mavis Gold & Pawn, she pulled into a parking spot and headed in.
“Good afternoon, young lady. What can I help you with?” The man at the counter was likely in his sixties, white hair recently trimmed, and dressed for a high-end office. He wore suit pants and a neatly-pressed shirt with a vest. His pride in his business was made evident by the cleanliness and his care to keep the sales floor uncluttered. Although advertised with neon signage, and wedged between a dingy-looking hair salon and a ramshackle vacant office building, he kept the sales floor bright, with lighting spaced just right to illuminate the room evenly.
“I’d like to see what you have in stock for acoustic guitars.”
He smiled and pointed to the window. “Sure, we have the two in the window there and three on stands back here.”
The two in the window were nice enough, but not quite what she was looking for. She needed something a young girl would love, an instrument with a shorter body, some flash, but still quality, something that with one look, Ivy’s face would light up the room.
Ryan checked out the three on the stands, one being a beautiful bright blue Fender acoustic. She held each in her hands. She inspected the elements. She strummed them and appreciated the sound they put out, but none of them spoke to her. Just as she was putting the last Fender back on the stand she spotted what she was looking for.
Through a partially open curtain leading into the back, she laid eyes on a red-toned Fender Alkaline Trio Malibu. She had seen one only once before. A girl in one of the dive bars Ryan had liked playing in during her college years had one. The shorter body would be perfect for Ivy to grow into, and the heart-shaped sound hole surrounded by heart rosettes was sure to be right up a seven-year-old girl’s alley. The bonus—it would match her red boots.
“What about the Fender back there?”
He scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s not quite ready for sale. I was still changing the strings and tuning it.”
“I can do that. How much do you want for it?”
“If you’re going to string and tune it, I’ll let it go for one fifty.”
She pursed her lips. They went for about three hundred new. “I’ll do one hundred.”
“One twenty-five,” he countered.
“One ten.”
“One fifteen, and that’s my final offer.”
“Sold.” Ryan shook his hand and laid the cash on the counter.
Ten minutes later he had packed up the guitar in the case, given her a new set of strings and a backup set, and she walked out the door, grinning from ear to ear.
She couldn’t wait to give it to Ivy, but first she had to get it through the door without anyone seeing, and get it strung and tuned. No problem. Except that child had one hell of an ear. Maybe Ivy would be occupied with her mother long enough to get the job done.
Everyone was on hand for dinner that night. The smoky brisket scent spread throughout the house, making Ryan’s mouth water. To go with the brisket, Myra put together a feast of corn casserole, mashed potatoes, green beans, and for dessert, four-layer chocolate cake.
Usually the ranch hands begged off after dinner and retired to their bunkhouses, but tonight they lingered. Conversation flowed about the upcoming branding, their excitement for the new herd unmistakable.
“That was the cleanest transfer I’ve ever witnessed in my forty years on ranches,” Levi said.
“Yeah, no thanks to Frayley. Don’t know what the hell he was thinking bringing Cutter out here like that,” Elliot said.
“Did you see the look on this face? Meaner than the Devil himself,” Kip added.
Slade gestured toward Ivy with his coffee. “Guys? Little ears.”
“I’m not a baby, you know,” Ivy said, her hands on her hips.
Lisa tweaked Ivy’s nose. Ryan knew for a fact Ivy hated that. Matt had tweaked her nose twice and Ivy had given him the eye. With Lisa she didn’t, but it was anyone’s guess as to how much of the stormy look on Ivy’s face was due to the gesture.
“Your dad isn’t
saying you are, baby. Some talk is best between the adults,” Lisa said.
Ivy turned red and looked ready to argue, so, against her better judgment, Ryan stepped in. “Ivy, how would you like to play the song I taught you?”
Ivy’s face lit up. “Can I?”
“Sure, I think you’re ready. Be right back,” Ryan said.
Ryan grabbed the Fender from her closet. She had had just enough time before dinner to get the strings on and the instrument tuned and ready to go for Ivy. Ryan hadn’t thought about it before, but she really should buy a tuner for Ivy so when Ryan moved on, Ivy would have a way to tune her own guitar.
Moving on. Ryan dropped to her bed and tried to catch her breath. She didn’t want to move on, which is exactly why she’d let Slade use that ridiculous flower garden to keep her around. Eventually she had to face her old life; she had to pack it up, and put it away before she could truly go in a new direction. Whether that direction was the same as Slade’s was anyone’s guess.
She hesitated to admit it, even to herself, but she hoped it was.
She returned to the living room, where Ivy yammered on to her rapt audience about how she and Ryan spent time every day playing together.
Ryan sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the brick fireplace. “Why don’t you play the song on this, sweetheart?” Ryan handed Ivy the case and took pleasure in the look of wonder that moved over her little face as she unzipped and flipped open the case. Most kids would go nuts. They would jump, squeal, and shout.
Not Ivy. Not this time.
Ivy’s eyes softened, her hands hesitating before touching the rosewood body, tracing her fingers over the hearts in the center. “This is mine?”
“All yours.” Ryan smiled then glanced up to Slade, the look on his face unreadable. Hopefully he didn’t mind. She hadn’t asked him. She didn’t figure it would be so bad, giving Ivy one gift to remember her by.
“Daddy, look at it. Isn’t it pretty?”
He smoothed a hand over Ivy’s hair. “Absolutely beautiful, baby.”
A glance at Lisa told Ryan that Ivy’s mother was not happy with the purchase or Ivy’s enthusiasm. It was probably time to have a talk with Lisa, to reassure her that she wasn’t looking to usurp Lisa’s place as Ivy’s mother. She didn’t want to cause any tension Ivy might pick up on. Ryan hated tension, always had, and she’d walk away before she would inflict it on Ivy.
