The Rancher's Conditions
Page 12
Chapter 8
Back at the stables, with most of the herd safely in close winter pastures, Erik watched as Layne removed the saddle and bridle from Blaze and brushed her down. She refused his offer to have a wrangler care for the horse, telling him that he could watch and advise, if needed. But, she thought with a smile, neither he nor a wrangler was needed.
A few of the cowboys elected to camp overnight and resume their search for the remaining stragglers in the morning, while the other wranglers chose to return to their homes elsewhere. “I’m assuming, since Blaze is put away, that we aren’t going to camp out tonight.” Erik smiled at Layne as they walked to the house. “Am I correct?”
“Oh! I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Layne replied. “Since the other boys were taking care of their horses, I just figured we were finished for the day, so I took care of her too.”
She stopped and took his hand. “I’m game if you are,” she said. “I’m willing to get the entire American cowboy experience. Although,” she added, “I’ll readily admit that a warm soak in that swimming pool off my bedroom — you know, the one you refer to as a bathtub — is extremely inviting.”
“I have no doubt that you’re willing to camp out,” Erik said, “and if you’ll promise me a rain check, we can do it some other time. Is that okay with you?”
Layne met his smile with her own. “Yup, fine with me. Sounds like fun.” Sharing a sleeping bag would certainly be a new experience. She held that image, snuggled against Erik in a warm bag, as long as she could.
Back in the house, Erik went his way to shower and Layne went hers. As she plopped down on the edge of her bed to work her boots off, she realized how tired she really was. She resisted the almost overwhelming urge to lie back and stretch out, full-length, fearing sleep would come immediately.
Once the boots were off, socks, shirt, jeans, bra, and panties followed quickly. She went directly to the bathroom and turned the faucets on in the shower. No need for the shower cap this time. A shampoo of her dusty, wind-blown chestnut hair, followed by a long, leisurely soak in the garden tub for her complaining muscles, was all she wanted now.
Later, rejuvenated, Layne slowly descended the winding staircase. Her hair was brushed to a gorgeous sheen, and she was wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, accentuated by bunny-rabbit slippers, both found in a bedroom closet. A total fashion statement.
She found Erik in the kitchen, pouring himself a cocktail. He looked up with a smile at her approach.
“Cheap wine or a cocktail?” he asked, holding up a glass in one hand and a wine goblet in the other. “I’ve got both.”
“How’s your supply of vodka?”
“Unopened bottle.”
“Got any olives?” Layne asked.
“Full jar.”
“Willing to open the unopened bottle?” Layne raised a brow.
“Absolutely.”
“Then,” she replied, “I will have a dirty martini.”
“I’m not sure this will matter to you, but I don’t have cheap vodka.” Erik grinned.
“Cheap, as it pertains to me,” Layne answered with her own grin, “refers only to wine.” The deliciously relaxing soak in the garden tub got her off to a good start, and a good stiff drink was just what she needed to finish off the entire process.
She watched as Erik opened the vodka, noting that the label was unfamiliar, and therefore must be expensive. She silently vowed not to ask. He poured a jigger full into a cooled mixer, added a splash of olive juice and shook it vigorously before pouring it into the glass. Two olives, dropped in, completed the concoction.
Layne’s first sip produced a wide-eyed, shuddering reaction. “Oh my,” she coughed. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I’d go easy on those,” he said. “They kind of sneak up on a person.”
Layne took another tentative sip. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I can see where that could happen.” She followed Erik into the living room, a room of log and stone, filled with leather furniture. A rancher’s home, to be sure. Rough and rugged, and yet, she felt a comfort, a belonging in this man’s domain.
She joined Erik on the couch, drawing her leg up under her until she noticed — with only her thick terrycloth robe covering her, a revealing portion of her thigh, high on her thigh — she’d exposed enough skin to be a magnet for Erik’s eyes. She slowly pulled the material down to cover herself, just slow enough to tantalize him. And she did it on purpose.
Erik pretended not to notice, but his eyes gave him away. They locked on the target like a laser-guided missile. He shifted on the couch, restless, forcing his eyes away from the exposed, tempting flesh. “Why don’t I get us something to eat?” he said, quickly rising from the couch. “Anything sound good to you?”
“Actually, I’m so hungry I could eat anything you placed in front of me,” she replied, taking the last sip of her martini and joining him as he went into the kitchen. “There’s got to be some leftovers somewhere.”
Working side by side, they concocted a decent meal of leftover prime rib slices, baked potato, packaged gravy mix, and salad. Layne marveled at how normal the evening seemed to be as they loaded the dishwasher and put other things away.
Later, returning to the spacious living room, they again sat side by side on the couch, although this time Layne made sure the robe covered what it was supposed to cover.
Erik took a sip of his after-dinner cocktail, then set it upon an end table beside him. “I’m sorry I made you, and your friend, what is her name?
“Barb,” Layne replied, taking a sip of her second martini.
“Right, Barb. Anyway,” he continued, “I’m sorry I made you gals quit your jobs. I think I could get them back for you. Would you like me to talk to Wellington?”
Layne leaned toward Erik to lay her hand on his arm. She was no longer afraid to touch him, although it continued to do funny things to her breathing and heart rate. “Actually, the way things have turned out, we need to thank you. We’re quite happy in our own practice, and if it were not for you,” she said, “this would never have happened.”
“At one time, I think you told me that you’re limiting your practice to women. Is this still true?”
“That’s our plan, and so far, that’s the way things are going.”
“So I can’t talk you into helping me gain custody of my niece?”
Oh, bombshell! This little problem had been tucked away in a far, far corner of Layne’s memory, so far that it had been almost completely forgotten. “Well,” she said, searching for the right words, “I guess that would leave me out, wouldn’t it? Mr. Wellington might have a few people willing to help.” She cast Erik a sideways glance. “Are you thinking of starting proceedings?”
“Soon.” Erik nodded. “I think once our barbecue is finished, I’ll be ready.” He shifted positions on the couch, and now could look directly at Layne. “I’m just starting to get all my ducks lined up in a row.”
Layne was on high alert. This was an issue she had to tiptoe into and around. Where did she stand legally and personally, discussing this with Erik without his knowledge of her position or reasons behind her inquiries? There were questions to be asked however, and she figured that was a chance she had to take.
“Speaking of remembering correctly, I think you told me that your sister’s husband grew up somewhere in Louisiana? Chesterville, or something like that?”
“You’ve got a good memory,” Erik said, impressed, “but yeah, it was Chesterville.”
“And your sister’s married name was . . .?”
“Gerhardt. Rhonda Gerhardt. His name was Bill. William, actually.”
“What is your niece’s name?”
“Lucy. She’d be close to six now.”
“Have you seen her at all since the accident?”
“Is she being kept from you on purpose?”
“No, I’m sure it’s just the way things have worked out.” He cast Layne a sad glance. “I guess I should’ve tried harder, but I felt I was too busy, having to go back to school to learn how to get the ranch off the ground.”
“Why do you want her now? Do you think you’re ready for a little six-year-old girl?”
He studied Layne for a moment. “Well, I certainly wasn’t ready before, but I think I am now. Maybe having a little girl will help me find a wife.”
Layne shot him an incredulous look. “What?” she blurted. “Are you crazy? If all you want is a warm female body beside you in bed, put an ad in the paper, for God’s sake! You’ll have thousands of responses the next morning! But,” she continued in a more controlled, calmer manner, “when you find a woman you cannot live without, a woman you yearn for the moment she’s out of your sight, a woman who is constantly in your thoughts, a woman who makes your heart leap each and every time you see her, and Lord help you if you touch her, that is the gal you should marry, not merely a female body to be a mother to your niece! The niece is not the important person here. You and the woman you fall in love with and marry, you’re the important ones! The child is secondary.”
Erik continued to stare at Layne, digesting her impassioned speech. “I guess I put the cart before the horse there, didn’t I? I should have a wife first, I suppose.”
Now it was Layne’s turn to study him, but how could she? Her mind was a muddled mess. She could be the wife he wanted, the wife he needed! But the verbal contract between the Callaway woman and herself was binding. If things came to a court battle, she was sworn to represent the grandmother. “I think a wife would be in your favor for custody of the child, Erik,” she confessed, “but don’t just marry someone off the street. Wait for the right woman, wait for the one you cannot even think about living without!”
“I think it won’t matter if I’m married. I mean, the grandmother is a single lady, I’m a single uncle. What’s the difference?”
“I think one difference is the fact that the grandmother has custody of the child. She’s apparently supplying the child with a good, loving home. Would the court wish to change that?”
“So you’re saying that possession is nine tenths of the law in this sort of thing?”
“That situation could possible sway the judge’s opinion, I suppose,” Layne replied, choosing her words carefully. She was caught directly in the middle.
“I think I’d better put my money to good use and hire a few good attorneys.”
Another bombshell! Layne’s head was beginning to throb. She’d had enough. “Well,” she said, stretching her arms high over her head, “we’ve got another early day tomorrow, don’t we? I’d better get my beauty sleep, so I don’t scare any of the cowboys in the morning.”
Erik laughed, tearing his eyes away from the swell of Layne’s breasts tight against her robe. “Not as early as this morning,” he answered. “We can sleep in a little.”
Thank God! “When can I expect your good morning attack at my door?”
“Oh, five-thirty, quarter to six. Somewhere around there.”
Good grief! “Okay, I’ll see you then.” Layne got up from the couch and gave Erik a sweet kiss on his cheek. “This carriage is going to turn into a pumpkin pretty soon. I’ve got to go.” The temptation to kiss his lips almost won the battle, but she passed it by. She didn’t want to scare him away and possibly ruin their friendship. What a friggin’ poor excuse.
Erik rose from the couch and solved her problem. “What, don’t good friends kiss on the lips? Don’t think I didn’t love your kiss on my cheek, but we should try it on the lips sometime. We may like it.”
Layne stopped and turned to him, her heart rate increasing at the thought. “I, um, guess we could try it,” Oh jeez, Pandora’s Box. Layne hesitated, taking a step toward him.
Erik took the final step and closed the gap, gently cupping her face in his hands. He pulled back a little as his eyes searched hers. “You’re sure this is okay?” he whispered.
Layne gave a short nod. Yes, it was okay! She raised her mouth to his, savoring the touch of his lips. It was merely a gentle brushing of their lips at first, but when Layne ran her hands up Erik’s chest and over his shoulders, finally clasping the back of his head and drawing their mouths firmly together, all barriers were broken. And Pandora’s Box was opened, indeed.
The unfamiliar sensation of Erik’s lips on hers, soft and gentle at first, slowly grew in insistence, throwing out any notion of a quick, friendly goodnight peck. Layne molded herself into his body and pulled him closer when she sensed the slightest resistance in his embrace.
That was all Erik needed to know. He felt he’d gone too far, too fast, thus his attempt to back away.
But Layne was having none of this. She’d welcomed it, insisted on it, and pulled him back. She could feel his erection growing against her, filling her with a long-forgotten thrill and latent unfulfilled need. Erik’s hands left Layne’s face and slid down the terrycloth covering her breasts, to clasp her waist and pull her even closer. His lips left hers and traced a line of gentle kisses down her neckline as his fingers untied the robe belt, allowing it to open and hang freely. Her soft moan encouraged his hands to slip inside the fabric to cup and caress her breasts before sliding up to her shoulders, causing the robe to fall to the floor.
Erik lifted her, and cradled in his arms, carried her to his bedroom and gently laid her upon the bed. She watched through hooded eyes as he removed his clothing and lay beside her. The few times Layne had seen him scantily dressed had been in his workout attire, but undressing in front of her, and now, naked beside her, she was virtually amazed at his perfect male body, big in all the places that counted.
He reached over and drew lazy circles on her tummy, circling her navel before traveling down to explore the warm flesh between her legs. Layne rolled to her side and put her hand on Erik’s chest before shyly moving down his stomach to stroke her fingers through his curly hair.
“Do you have protection?” Layne whispered.
Erik turned and met Layne’s eyes. “No. Do we need it?” he said quietly.
“It’s a really bad time for me, Erik.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I think,” he finally said, leaning down to gently kiss her nipple, “we’ve gone a little too far.” He pulled away and lay on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Things got a bit out of hand. I’m sorry.”
“But can’t you, you know”—Layne shrugged—“pull out when the time comes?”
Erik cast her a wry smile. “No,” he replied. “There’s no way on God’s green Earth that that’s ever going to happen. I’m not that strong. It’s a chance we can’t take.” He slid his legs to the side of the bed and stood up, then walked around the bed to sit by Layne’s side. “Look,” he said gently, “I didn’t invite you to the roundup just so this could happen. It was completely spontaneous, and I apologize for my part in it.”
Layne reached for his hand and squeezed it. “It’s no one’s fault, it just happened,” she said. Never, ever, had she reacted so quickly, so fully to a simple, undemanding kiss. And never, ever had she reacted to any man as she did with Erik, and never, ever had she wanted a man as much as she wanted Erik a minute or two before.
And now, she suddenly realized, noting Erik’s still-full erection, that she was lying beside him completely naked. “Um,” she started, not knowing exactly what to say, “I don’t remember exactly where I left my robe.”
“It’s downstairs. I’ll get it.” He quickly dressed, and as he left the room, Layne padded into the bathroom and wrapped herself in a towel to await his return.
~ ~ ~
Later, as Layne lay in her own bed, she stared at t
he far wall for many, many minutes, reliving what might have happened, not sure if she was happy or sad.
Erik tossed in his bed. “Well, that’s a first,” he muttered, before falling into a troubled sleep.
~ ~ ~
The sharp rap on the door jarred her. For a brief moment, Layne couldn’t get her bearings through the fog of sleep. Once the clouds were swept away, she swung her long legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Well, at least she tried to stand up. She immediately plopped back down on the edge of her bed, painfully aware of a myriad of stiff, tight muscles. What on Earth had happened? All she’d done all day was sit on a horse. Oh wait, that part was probably the sorest of all . . .
Later, now dressed for another day in the saddle, she slowly descended the long staircase, not sure which muscles would fail her first. She thought her butt and legs were winning.
Erik had been sitting on the couch in the living room, and met her at the staircase landing. “Good morning,” he said, hesitantly putting his arms around Layne. “Is a good-morning hug permissible?”
“I think, if we’re careful, it would be okay. No good-morning kiss, however.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Erik agreed. “No friendly kiss of any sort. We have to practice shaking hands, I guess.” His smile turned serious. “Layne, I’m terribly sorry for losing control last night. That’s really not my style, and I hope you can forgive me.”
“Nor is it my style,” Layne replied. “It was just as much my fault as yours. I’m sorry, and I certainly forgive you, but I need your forgiveness too.”
Erik wondered if he should remind her that friends don’t need to say they’re sorry, but thought better of it. “Well, if you think there’s equal blame, then I forgive you too.” But, oh my God, standing this close to her, he ached with wanting to feel his hands on her warm flesh and her lips on his again! “Is this going to change anything between us? I mean, we’ll still be friends, right?”