Texas Thunder

by R. Casteel

  “Missouri.” What is wrong with me? Why did I do that?

  She raised a perplexed brow. Jeff never did anything as silly and romantic as feed me from his plate.

  “When I was in college I became good friends with my roommate Bill O’Dell. He was from northern Missouri and his parents owned a farm. Bill invited me up one year to go hunting and it became an annual event. I just got back from this year’s hunt. It’s the only time other than Christmas that I spend away from home for more than a couple of days.”

  “It’s the best venison I’ve tasted.” Cynthia swallowed the piece he had fed her. “Growing up with three older brothers who loved to compete for the largest buck each year, we always had venison in the freezer.”

  The meal wasn’t the only thing Cynthia had liked. Even over the delicious food and small glass of sparkling wine, she could still feel the imprint of Charles’s kiss.

  “What do you do living so far from civilization?”

  Charles pause a moment. “I am a construction engineer. Our office is in Dallas.” He anticipated her next question. “Everything is done over a secured line via computer.”

  He seemed unwilling to continue and Cynthia let the other questions she had wait for a better time. After all, there were things she was unwilling to share with him. She was beginning to piece together all the parts of her emotional puzzle. It was hardly fair to expect him to open up when she had closed herself off.

  They finished up the meal and Cynthia sighed with a smile of satisfaction. “That was absolutely delicious.”

  “My pleasure.” He returned her smile feeling very satisfied with way the meal had ended on a pleasant note.

  This was the first time Cynthia had opened up about anything personal. Should he press for more, or let it come out naturally? He liked seeing the joy in her face and light in her eyes that appeared when she talked about her brothers. He didn’t want to see the light go out or even dim. Sit back and keep the conversation light and impersonal, let her open up on her own. Something had happened recently that had upset her. If he pried, she might close up again.

  “Do you feel able to walk to the couch or should I carry you?”

  “I think I can walk,” she replied quickly. Standing she grasped the edge of the table as a slight dizziness caused her to weave.

  “I think not.” Charles rounded the table and scooped her up in his arms.

  “How’s the arm?” Charles asked as he carried her into the living room.

  She glanced down at the crude cast. “It’s broken.”

  “Tell me, how did you come to that conclusion?” Charles asked in a light teasing voice.

  “Well, for one thing, it hurts like hell and it throbs with every heartbeat. For another, there is this strange article around it that prevents me from moving it,” Cynthia replied with laughter in her voice.

  It felt natural to be laughing and teasing with Charles. Not like with Jeff and the expected responses to his staid jokes or his requirement to be the center of attention. As she mentally compared the two men, she realized Charles would command attention in any crowd, without saying a word. She began to see Jeff for the shallow person he was.

  “Would you like something for the pain?” He lowered her to the couch. “I’m afraid all I have is some aspirin.”

  “That would be great. Two, please.” She leaned her head back against his arm and smiled up at him.

  Charles brought her the pain pills and a glass of water. “You said you lived outside Dallas. What town?” Charles asked.

  “Charles, I appreciate all that you’ve done, I really do. But as I said earlier, I don’t want to talk about me. Okay,” Cynthia responded turning away.

  “Fine,” he mumbled, “I’ve got some work to do. Here’s the TV remote.”

  Charles put on his jacket, grabbed his gloves and went outside. He needed to check on the wood-burning furnace and add more wood.

  That really went well. She shut up like a clam. He took more wood from the pile and added it to the fire.

  He would have liked to check on the generator but he hadn’t put up his safety rope from the back door to the building that housed it. With the blowing snow, it might as well have been a mile away instead of eighty feet. He couldn’t see a thing in the whiteout conditions.

  I have plenty of fuel. Everything will be fine.

  Charles came back in and found Cynthia watching a college football game, Texas A&M against Perdue.

  “So, which team are you cheering for?” he tried to lighten the tension his earlier comment had caused. “I hope it’s not Perdue.”

  “With three brothers who played in high school and who went on to play at Texas?” she laughed. “Bear would run me out of the house if I were to cheer for anyone else.”

  “Bear Petterson who played fullback a few years ago…he’s your brother?”

  “Yes. Did you know him?” Her face lit up as she connected the two names with football.

  Charles was drawn to her face. The transformation of emotions and the quickness with which they occurred amazed him. There was one emotion that he hadn’t seen yet, passion. It might be better for both of them if he never did.

  “But of course, you played with him!” Cynthia said with excitement. “I watched every game. You were an excellent receiver.”

  “Not nearly as good as Bear. What did he end up doing after college?” Charles asked. “I sort of lost track of him after school.”

  “David joined the Navy. He’s a Commander on the USS Kennedy, married and has three children.”

  Charles sat down, conscious of their closeness. “What’s the score?”

  “Fourteen to twenty-one, Texas with less than two minutes to go,” she said.

  Purdue had the ball on the four yard line. The quarterback faked a hand-off, faded back looking into the end zone, and rifled a pass to the receiver. Touch down Purdue. Score Texas twenty-one, Purdue twenty with a minute and forty seconds left on the clock. Perdue lined up, they were going for two points.

  Cynthia was on the edge of her seat, her fists clinched in anticipation.

  Texas lined up tight on the line, the secondary defense watchful for a pass.

  Purdue snapped the ball. The quarterback pitched it to the fullback pulling Texas to the left side of the field. Just as the Texas defense hit him, he fired a pass across field to the wide receiver on the goal line. It looked like the game was over.

  “Yes! Yes!” Cynthia yelled as the ball was picked off by Texas. They held on to the ball and the game was over.

  “Did you see that? Did you?” she asked excitedly.

  “Good game,” Charles agreed with a wide smile. “Purdue always gives them a challenge.

  “So, you’re Bear’s kid sister. What did he call you…Cyn, right?” He looked into her eyes and felt like he was falling. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you Cynthia.”

  “I don’t mind.” To be honest, she liked it when he did. Around the ranch, it was always Cyn. Except when she was in trouble, then Mother would yell, “Cynthia Lynn!” With the tone of voice that all mothers seem to have that lets their children know they’re in for it.

  “While you’re watching TV, I’m going to take a shower. If you want one, I can wrap the cast up for you,” he said.

  “Oh, I would love one.” A few minutes later, she heard the water going. Cynthia imagined his solid body all covered with soapsuds and felt heat rise up her neck and infuse her face. She lost interest in what she was watching and turned off the set.

  Her attention rested on a bookcase in his office. She went up the stairs slowly and walked around his office. The bookcase was of moderate size, taking up a portion of one wall. Almost all his books dwelt with some aspect of construction and engineering.

  The only light reading she had found was a complete set of hardbound special editions by Louis L’Amour.

  “Do you enjoy his books?”

  Cynthia jumped. She had been so engrossed in the beautiful collection it hadn’t
registered that the shower had stopped.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Yes, I’ve read all his books. This is a beautiful set.” She turned to look at him.

  Charles was standing there barefoot with a pair of jeans riding low on his hips. He had a towel around his shoulders and his hair was still wet. She noticed the light covering of hair on his chest was dark and curly. A drop of water, as if drawn by the power of her eyes, slowly made its way down his chest to be absorbed by his jeans. Cynthia unconsciously licked her lips and struggled for breath.

  Charles watched while she made her appraisal. He felt his loins tighten with desire. She’s not as immune to me as she lets on. Her eyes are so expressive she should never play poker.

  “Would you like your shower now?” Charles asked.

  “Yes,” she managed with a voice so husky she didn’t recognize it as her own.

  “I’ll be right back.” Charles turned abruptly and went down to the kitchen.

  Cynthia noticed some sheets and blankets on the chair. For some reason she felt disappointed.

  Charles came back and wrapped her cast with a plastic bag. Where his fingers touched her skin there was a sensuous awareness, a chemistry that hadn’t been there before. It was almost as if an electrical current had passed between them.

  He looked up and was stunned by the emotion he saw swirling in her expressive eyes. The longer he looked into her eyes the stronger his desire became to sweep her into his arms and kiss her.

  “There, you’re all set.” His voice pulsated with long ago forgotten feelings.

  “Thank you.” She hesitated, wanting to feel his lips on hers again. Slowly, she walked past him toward his bedroom and the waiting shower.

  Chapter 3

  She was enjoying her shower, the hot water pulsating over her sore body. It wasn’t in her nature to complain, but she was feeling like she had gotten stuck on a wild bucking horse, and couldn’t get off. She was bruised, shaken and feeling like every joint was thrown out of place. The pounding water and steam-laden air relaxed her. Closing her eyes, she felt the water caressing her body like a thousand tiny fingers.

  A strange intimate feeling came over her as she thought about Charles using the shower before her. She imagined the water as his fingers. Touching her as no man had ever touched her before. She was beginning to act like a love struck teenager around him. Something no one could ever have accused her of being. She never remembered being nervous around Jeff or even having these types of thoughts about him.

  At the thought of her former fiancé, she saw the scene at the hotel play out again before her. Shannon stood naked in the room with Jeff in the shower, waiting for Shannon to join him, his hand stroking his hardened cock.

  The anguish and bitterness washed over her as she sank to the floor. The hot scalding tears of grief cleansed her soul, as the hot water washed over her body. She stayed like that until the water grew cold, forcing her out of the shower. For the first time since that ill-fated morning, she felt clean, both inside and out. She was thankful she had learned the truth before it was too late, the truth Shannon had been trying to tell her all along.

  She dried off and put Charles’s terry robe back on. Wrapping her hair in a dry towel, she left the bedroom feeling refreshed. Charles was standing by the fireplace, watching the wind driven snow swirl over the deck and disappear in the darkness. She hadn’t realized he could see her reflection until he spoke without turning.

  “Would you like me to dry your hair for you?” Charles asked.

  She hesitated, her mind on overload. There was an acute awareness, a tension, which vibrated within her whenever Charles touched her. Around Charles, she felt different, more aware of her body than ever before. If one word could come close to describing what it was, it would have to be sensuous. It rose up in front of her like a proud stallion, daring her to mount and ride. It drew her like the challenge of a fast car, to unleash its power and push it to the very edge of control. She stared this new challenge in the face.

  “Thanks, I would appreciate that,” she said as she turned and slowly descended the stairs.

  He was playing with fire offering to dry her hair. He wanted to touch her again. He was as surprised that she had agreed as he was at his own offer.

  She sat down on the couch and he took her towel and started to dry her hair. She had such beautiful hair, black as a raven’s wing, smooth as silk threads sliding through his fingers. He closed his eyes and saw a picture in his mind of her leaning over the top of him, her hair brushing against his chest.

  “Would you like a small glass of wine before bed?” His voice had a roughness to it that he couldn’t hide.

  “Yes, please.”

  She never knew that having someone dry her hair could feel so erotic, so intimate. Charles obviously felt something too judging by the sound of his voice and his uneven breathing.

  “I’ll be right back.” He brought the wine back and sat down, keeping some distance from her. Charles turned the TV on to the Weather Channel. Colorado was the topic of interest.

  “The storm center has passed and is now over Eastern Colorado and Western Kansas.” The announcer pointed to an area map. “The Denver area is still not out of the woods yet. The National Weather Service in Denver is predicting another eight to ten inches of snow before its influence on the area is no longer felt.”

  He changed over to the First News Network. They were also headlining the Denver storm.

  David Reinhart, the news anchor was speaking. “This is the worst storm in over fifty years. Denver International Airport is closed, as are the interstates and all secondary roads. The Governor has called out the National Guard. For an onsite report we will attempt to go to Lorie Renee who is on site at the National Guard building here in Denver.”

  “This is Lorie Renee reporting live from the National Guard Armory in Denver. Guard personnel are having problems getting here. Traffic in Denver has come to a complete standstill. As you mentioned, all roads are closed except to emergency personnel. There are literally hundreds of cars and trucks stranded on the interstate and around town. Deep snowdrifts left behind by the high winds are hampering the rescue attempts to find stranded motorists. Tens of thousands in Denver and across Colorado are without power and heat. The Governor is taking the heat tonight for waiting until now to call out the Guard. Right now, for those stranded in their vehicles, time is the enemy. For more on that story I’ll turn it over to Dale George reporting live from the snow clogged Interstate seventy.”

  “Did you ever notice that no matter how bad a storm or how closed off a road the news crews are able to get there and take pictures?” Charles asked.

  “Makes you wonder if it’s really as bad as they say or if they have special vehicles so they can get around where no one else can,” Cynthia replied.

  They finished the wine. The snow looked like it was tapering off a little. At least the wind had died down.

  “I think I’ll go to bed I’m still a little weak and tired.” She got up and immediately felt dizzy.

  Charles noticed her hesitation and slight wobble and was immediately by her side.

  “Here, let me help you. You probably stood up too quick.” He reached down, gently cradled her in his arms, and carried her up to bed. Charles looked into her eyes and was lost in a sea of fog-shrouded blackness. He gently laid her on the bed. He leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead.

  “Good night,” he said, his voice shaky and hesitant.

  Cynthia lay there with a smile on her face remembering the chaste kiss he had given her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if he had kissed her on the lips. She was willing to admit, at least to herself, what her feelings were when she was in his arms. She felt safe, protected… Those were her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep.

  Charles couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t one to normally walk the floor. The battle going on within him was pulling him in two directions. Cynthia was a beaut
iful and desirable woman. She was also the baby sister of one of his best friends from his college days. One of the biggest problems he faced was their age difference.

  He remembered her brother mentioning, that as they graduated from college, Cynthia was entering her sophomore year of high school. He leaned his head against the fireplace mantel and groaned, “Ten years.”

  Charles heard a noise from the bedroom and ran up the stairs. Cynthia had knocked the clock off the table. She was thrashing around on the bed, the covers partially kicked off of her.

  Charles sat down and gently shook her. “Cynthia, wake up, Cynthia.”

  Cynthia woke up and, seeing his face, threw her arms around his neck. Her breasts flattened against his bare chest.

  “You were having a nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?” He was acutely aware of the contact of her naked breasts. His body responded with a tightening of his loins as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

  She shook her head, “It was nothing, just the accident.”

  Charles thought differently but let it drop. When she was ready to trust him she would tell him. He kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him and he gently kissed her lips. “Now get some sleep,” he whispered.

  Cynthia lay back down and Charles covered her up. “Thank you for being here,” she murmured. She went back to sleep to dream again, but this time it was about strong caring arms around her, a soft goodnight kiss and the searing heat of flesh touching flesh.

  Cynthia woke the next morning to the smell of sausage, eggs and fresh coffee. She felt a lot better. Her arm didn’t hurt as badly and the rest of her body only felt sore. Like she would’ve felt, had she been at the ranch after a long day in the saddle.

  She put the robe on and went downstairs. She had to admit, Charles looked comfortable in the kitchen. She didn’t know many men who were. He looked up at her and smiled. She liked it when he smiled. It did warm and fuzzy things to her insides.

  “Good morning. Sleep well?” His tone was light, cheerful.

  “Yes thank you,” she had been prepared for a question about last night’s dream. She appreciated his not mentioning it. She looked outside. With the light snow falling, it made everything look like a picture post card or one of those posters ski resorts put out about the beauty of the Rocky Mountains.