Tularosa Moon

by Stacey Coverstone

  When her tongue moved over her bottom lip in a gesture so sensual, Cole’s heart ricocheted in his chest like a pinball. He had to leave before he did something stupid, like kiss her again.

  “Good night,” he said, shifting the gearstick into reverse.

  “See you tomorrow.” She waved and stepped back.

  As he drove down the road past the barn, he peered into his rearview mirror and saw her still standing at the hitching post watching him drive away. Despite the vow to himself, and his promise to her, his gut twisted with longing, and his loins burned with desire. That nice house in town—it was going to be too damned quiet when he walked through the door alone.

  ****

  “I’ve got great news.” Ella greeted Lindy at the door with a wide smile and asked her to take a seat on the sofa. She spread a newspaper open and placed it on Lindy’s lap. “This is the local paper. My marketing manager, Doni Lyn, sent a press release to the editor about the opening of the ranch and it came out today. Read this.” She pointed to a column titled, Local Guest Ranch Offers Massages and Weddings.

  As Lindy skimmed the article, her already clamoring nerves began to scream. In the release, she was noted by name as the new masseuse at the Painted Pony Ranch. An icy feeling slid up her arms.

  “You won’t believe this, but I’ve already received several calls this afternoon from locals making reservations for massages,” Ella beamed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Reaching for calm, Lindy forced a smile to her lips. “Yes, that’s great.”

  Ella retrieved the newspaper from Lindy’s lap and folded it in half. “And the first person to call today to make an appointment was Jordan Mackenzie. She’s a friend of Cole’s.”

  “I remember the name,” Lindy said, trying her best to stay focused while her head was swimming. “In fact, Cole and I talked about her today.”

  Standing, Ella shoved the newspaper under her armpit. “She came to Tularosa last summer and got engaged to Wyatt Brannigan, a local rancher. Get this. There’s more good news. The two of them have finally set their wedding date, and they want to hold the ceremony and reception here next month!”

  Lindy stood, wanting desperately to flee upstairs and splash water on her face and be alone for a few minutes so she could think. But it would be rude to excuse herself now, with Ella sharing exciting news that would benefit both of them financially.

  “That means Cole will have to get going on building that arch,” she said, pretending to be as enthusiastic as Ella.

  “It should be a piece of cake for him,” Ella said. “I scheduled Jordan’s massage for Monday morning at ten o’clock.” She snapped her fingers. “By the way, we didn’t talk about the protocol for scheduling appointments. I’ll keep a reservation book on the table next to my desk. When I receive a call for a massage, I’ll write it down in the appointment book. I’ll also let you know when our in-house guests have made reservations with you. I suggest you check the book at the end of each day for your next day’s appointments.”

  “That should work fine. Thank you. This is all terrific news.” Lindy ran a hand through her hair that felt damp with moisture from perspiration. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll head upstairs to shower and freshen up before supper. I’m a little hot and grimy.”

  “Of course,” Ella said, seeming to realize she’d been keeping her. “One question before you go. Did you like White Oaks and Three Rivers?”

  “I very much enjoyed the petroglyph site, but we didn’t make it to the ghost town. Perhaps another day.” The recollection of thinking those bikers at Three Rivers could have been members of Skin’s gang set her to trembling all over again. Fortunately, she’d been mistaken. But the fear that settled in the pit of her stomach upon imagining those men as potential assassins made her stomach roll like a wave. “See you at supper,” she said, rushing up the stairs.

  Behind the locked bedroom door, Lindy collapsed onto her back upon the mattress and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d only just gotten here, and already she’d had several close calls—all of them significant enough to raise her blood pressure. First, the fender bender in town. And today, the men and the newspaper announcement mentioning her by name.

  After the initial shock of that one, her overwhelmed brain kicked into gear, and she realized there was no reason to worry. There’d been no photo accompanying the blurb. And it didn’t matter if anyone reading the small-town paper learned the Painted Pony’s new masseuse was Lindy Grainger anyway, since that wasn’t her real name.

  She flipped onto her stomach and released a deep sigh. “There’s no need to call Griffin. He might suggest I leave here. And I don’t want to leave. Not yet.”

  Lindy got up from the bed, removed her clothes and stepped into the pulsing shower, remembering Cole’s last words to her today.

  If she ever came to trust anyone to talk to, it would probably be him. Being around the man, even for the short time they’d known each other, made her feel safe and secure. Physically, she felt he’d be a good protector. And his easygoing nature and warm smile were a healing balm for the gaping hole in her heart.

  But it wasn’t to be, she reminded herself as she lathered her hair with fruity shampoo. Cole could never learn her secret. Discussions about her life—past and present—were off limits. Now, and for as long as she stayed here.

  Eleven

  The African American prison guard banged on the cell bars with his billy club, jolting Skin awake from his nap. “You’ve got a visitor downstairs,” he barked. “Get up and come with me.” He unlocked the cell door and pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket and glared. “Hurry up, or I’ll relock this door so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

  “Coming.” Skin rubbed his knuckles over his eyes and slid his long legs over the side of his bed then narrowed his gaze into slits at the guard.

  “Who do you think is here to visit?” his cellmate, Roy, asked from the cot on the opposite side of the room.

  “How would I know?” Skin answered sharply.

  “Maybe it’s your ma.”

  Skin tossed Roy a scathing look. He hadn’t seen or heard from his mother in seven years. For all he knew, she was dead. If so, good riddance. When the cell door creaked open, he shuffled toward the guard and gave him his back. His arms were twisted behind him like a pretzel. The cuffs pinched his wrists when they were snapped on, but Skin didn’t flinch. There was no pain he couldn’t tolerate.

  With a clang of the cell door, the guard relocked it and gave Skin a shove. “Start walking. I haven’t got all day.”

  Skin took a deep breath. He held it so he wouldn’t have to smell the odor of the animal beside him and let his mind wander.

  It had been months since anyone from the Brotherhood had come or sent a message through the prison grapevine. Exhilaration coursed through his body at the thought that after losing track of his prey twice before, the brothers had located her again, or at least made progress. If that were the case, she wouldn’t avoid punishment this time, because he’d be taking care of the problem himself.

  Sucking another breath into his mouth and allowing his lip to curl into the hint of a smile, he wondered which of his brothers had come today. It would feel good to be able to confide in someone about his scheme for breaking out of this pit.

  Early on in his incarceration, several strategies for escape had failed to meet with success due to one issue or another. Then, one day while walking around the exercise yard, Skin had hit upon a brilliant plan. After a year and a half of plotting, testing, preparing and learning how to pick locks and forge keys from a fellow inmate who had notions of joining the Brotherhood once he escaped with Skin, Skin would be leaving this joint the same way he’d come in—through ten locked doors. It was genius, just like him.

  Considering himself to be superior in all ways to the majority of humankind, and particularly the guards and officials in this pen, his pleasure soared to near ecstasy when he imagined how stupid they were all going to look once the
y’d realized he’d pulled off the biggest escape in the prison’s history. And he wouldn’t have long to wait, because the plan was on track.

  As Skin and the guard walked down two corridors of cells and two flights of stairs, he endured catcalls and whistles that were commonplace in this environment, and ignored rude shout-outs from inmates, such as ghost boy and snowman. As usual, he stared straight ahead and remained stoic.

  As they moved down the hallway leading to the visitor’s area, Skin glanced at the dark hand of the guard gripping him by the arm. The fingers of the fat, disgusting man resembled sausages. It wasn’t nauseating enough that the pig was touching Skin’s arm. Those sausage fingers curled around Skin’s tat, which caused him a great deal of anger. Someone as black as coal had no right to touch his ink. His tattoo meant more to him than anything. It symbolized the embodiment of his life.

  Skin threw the guard a caustic look, while visualizing the tattooed dagger jumping off his arm and stabbing the man in the chest.

  “Here we are,” the guard said, unlocking a set of steel doors and pushing Skin through them and into the room where other inmates were talking with their visitors. Four guards with guns stood watch over the room.

  Skin’s gaze swept over the dozen tables and connected with Lil Man’s. When Skin nodded in that direction, the guard accompanied him to the table then pressed him into the hardback chair by the shoulder. “Ya got ten minutes,” he said before stepping back to stand against the wall behind them with the billy club prominently displayed in his hand.

  “I brought news,” Lil Man whispered. “We’ve got a new recruit. His name is Magick. The kid is only nineteen, but he’s a complete computer nerd. A real brainiac. He might even be a genius.”

  “A genius, huh?” Skin stared at Lil Man with such intensity he could practically see Lil Man’s retinas burning.

  “Second to you, that is,” Lil Man rephrased, squirming in his chair. His lip twitched. “No one’s as smart as you, Skin.”

  “That’s right, and don’t forget it,” Skin growled in a low voice. “What’s Magick’s purpose? What does he have to offer the Brotherhood?”

  When Lil Man turned his head to make sure no one close by was listening, Skin gazed at the long, jagged scar that trailed from his earlobe down the jawline to his chin. When he spoke again, Lil Man’s voice was barely audible.

  “Magick is going to hack into the Department of Justice’s computers and get the information you need on the whereabouts of that woman. Then he’ll infect the computer system with a virus so bad they won’t know what hit ’em. He’s already on the job. It shouldn’t take him long.”

  Skin’s heart skittered to a stop. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that pig of a guard wasn’t paying any attention to their conversation. “This is good news,” he said, unable to stop a smile from quirking the corner of his mouth. It was more than good, in fact. It was a miracle—if it could be pulled off.

  Lil Man leaned back in his chair and expelled a sigh of relief.

  After a moment of reflection, Skin leaned forward and said, “I’ll be out of here soon. Tell the brothers I’ll find my way to the rendezvous spot. If Magick can find her, I’ll be handling the job on my own this time.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Yes.” Skin’s voice dropped to a hardly discernable whisper. “Tell Magick that if he completes this task satisfactorily, I’ll be quite impressed. And he’ll receive the reward of a lifetime.”

  “All right, Skin. I’ll tell him.”

  The guard tapped Skin on the shoulder with the billy club. “Time’s up.”

  “Later,” Lil Man winked, as Skin was hauled up from the chair by the collar of his jumpsuit.

  Skin held his breath and gritted his teeth as the guard hustled him back to his cell. That’ll be the last time you manhandle me, you smelly disgusting creature, Skin thought as the guard unlocked the cuffs and shoved him into his cell.

  “Who came to see you?” Roy asked, putting down the dog-eared magazine he’d already read a thousand times.

  “No one you know.” Skin planted himself in front of the photo on the wall and traced the woman’s lips with his finger. His mind was somewhere else—far away from this dump, touching her for real.

  “Was it a nice visit?” Roy asked, a couple of minutes later.

  Skin sighed, his magical moment ruined. “Best visit I ever had.” He stretched out on his cot and stared at the peeling ceiling. “You know, this room could use a new coat of paint,” he said wistfully.

  ****

  Everyone on the Painted Pony staff sat at the long table in the dining area conversing while having breakfast together on Saturday morning. His mother had asked Cole to show up, too, so he was here. Lindy sat across the table from him. Though he tried, it was difficult for him to keep his eyes off her. How a woman could look so fresh and beautiful at seven-thirty in the morning was beyond him.

  It had been obvious from the expression on her face that she’d been surprised to see him first thing when she’d descended the stairs and saw him at the table. He didn’t know why. His mom’s intentions were as transparent as glass.

  He and Lindy had said good morning, and lust had shivered through him as his gaze had roamed over the curves of her body. Dressing the part of a cowgirl, Lindy looked cute in jeans, a pink T-shirt, with a paisley scarf tied around her neck, and cowboy boots. Had she bought those boots special for working here at the ranch? Or had she owned them already? He wondered as he’d jumped up and darted to pull out her chair before Dalton could. The infatuated wrangler had made a beeline for Lindy the same moment Cole had.

  Now, sitting next to him, Cole could feel Dalton’s glower. His own gaze was glued to Lindy chatting with Sandy, who sat on one side of her. His mom sat on the other.

  “These breakfast burritos are the best,” T.J. said, helping himself to a second one and more fried potatoes.

  “Thank you, T.J.,” Luz replied, refilling juice cups around the table.

  “Listen up, everyone,” Ella said, rapping her fist on the table to grab their attention. She referred to a notebook in front of her. “Our husband and wife, Richard and Nelda Caldwell, will be arriving between eight and nine this morning. They’ll be staying in cabin 1A.” She flipped the page. “The Tammens, a family of four, will be in the little red schoolhouse and are expected early this afternoon. Philip Davis and his son, Hunter, will be in cabin 1B. They are due to arrive mid-morning.” Ella turned another page. “Pam Montague and Sheryl Brady will be housed in 2A, and Susan Radcliffe is next door to them in 2B. All those ladies should be showing up sometime this morning. When each group checks in, I’ll have them sign up for trail rides and massages, and I’ll also give them a list of our other activities and the times those will take place. Any questions?”

  When there were none, Ella pushed back from the table and stood. “I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me. Have a great day.”

  Luz began to clear the table of plates, a sign that breakfast was over and she had a schedule to keep.

  “Let’s go, boys,” Dalton said, rising from his chair. “We have work to do.” He and Sandy and T.J. each bid Lindy a nice day and flipped their hats onto their heads and left headquarters. With Luz bustling around in the kitchen, Cole and Lindy were left alone.

  “Did Ella tell you the good news about your friend Jordan and her fiancé?” Lindy asked, strolling to the front of the room.

  “No. What good news is that?”

  “They’ve set a wedding date for sometime next month, and they’re going to hold the wedding here.”

  Genuinely happy for them, Cole’s voice was thick with emotion. “That’s terrific. I know they’re going to have a wonderful life together. I guess that means I have to get cracking on that garden arch.”

  Lindy smiled, lighting up the room. “I mentioned the same thing to Ella. Are you sure you aren’t taking on too much? You still have the third cabin to finish.”

  “It’s nothing
I can’t handle.” He shrugged, having not given much thought about what too much work was. From the time he was a boy, his father had drummed into him that a real man worked from dawn till dusk, and then some.

  “I’d like to thank you again for taking me to Three Rivers yesterday,” Lindy said, changing the subject. “And I also want to apologize for nearly biting your head off when you—”

  “No apology necessary,” Cole interjected. “I understand you were hot and tired.” There was no use in bringing up the Harley Davidson men or the fear they’d instilled in her. “It was my fault for yanking on you like you were a calf I was taking down.”

  When she chuckled and her cheeks blushed pink, his heart, and groin, exploded with desire. Their gazes connected. Behind her eyes smoldered a woman who had awakened the hunger in him again. Defenseless to ignore the way she made him feel, he longed to savor the sweet taste of her lips once more, and feel the press of her soft breasts against his chest. God knew he wanted to haul her upstairs right now and make love to her in the room that had been his growing up. He’d dreamt about that very thing last night. Recalling those dream images fired his blood and raked his insides raw.

  Grinding his teeth together, he reached for the baseball cap that he’d flung on the sofa this morning and jammed it on his head. If he stayed any longer, his fantasies would ignite a firestorm that would incinerate everything in its path except his need for her.

  “I have to get down to the cabin,” he choked, striding for the door. “See you later.”

  “Okay. See you later.” He heard her soft response as he shut the door behind him.

  “Dammit,” he cursed, kicking at stones as he strode to his pickup. “I can’t go through this again. It doesn’t matter how sexy or sweet she is. I won’t go through it again.”

  Twelve

  After Lindy had helped Ella check in all the guests, Ella said, “Why don’t you join the group on the two o’clock trail ride? There’s nothing more for you to do this afternoon.”

  “That’s nice of you to offer,” Lindy replied, surprised by the suggestion. “But I’ve never ridden a horse. I don’t know the first thing about them.”