by Seton, Cora
I’m sliding my hands all over your body, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your chest, she wrote.
He could almost feel her soft feathery kisses all over him. He leaned back, his pulse kicking up a notch, and took hold of himself, moving his hand in slow, languorous strokes.
I’m undoing the catch of your bra and sliding it off your shoulders, glorying in the way your breasts bounce free.
She wrote back quickly. I can barely breathe for wanting you. I reach down and caress you, taking you into my hand.
Hell. He wished Heather was here. Chat was all well and good, but it wasn’t enough. I slide my hand down your back, under your panties and between your legs.
I’m wet, she messaged back. So wet.
Colt groaned, moving his hand faster. What would Heather be like to make love to now?
I want you inside of me, now, she wrote. Please, Colt. Take me.
He let go of himself to type quickly, I toss you on your back, climb on top of you and push inside. I pound into you until you scream my name and come. Not elegant, but true enough to the way he’d act if she were here.
He pushed the laptop aside, needing all his attention for the task at hand, pushing all conflict to the back of his mind. Wrapping his fingers around himself, he allowed his imagination to run free. There were so many things he wanted to do with Heather—so many positions, so many—
He came with a grunt and a shudder, working himself until he was drained. Leaning back, breathing hard, he turned his head to see the laptop’s screen.
OMG, you are so big, Heather had written.
And then added a smiley face.
Colt snorted, then laughed out loud. The computer chimed again.
You fill me perfectly, she said. You make me moan out loud. You make me—oh, Colt!
A few seconds later another chime sounded. Heaven.
Heaven, indeed.
No reply came for a few minutes. Was Heather lying in her own bed and thinking the same things he was? He took the opportunity to clean up a little.
Finally she wrote again. Colt, that was good, but it wasn’t as good as having you here would be.
Know what you mean, he wrote back, although his emotions were far too confused to make sense of.
I have to be real here for a minute, she said. I loved showing you my breasts. This wouldn’t have been nearly as fun if I hadn’t—if I didn’t think you were aroused by me—but I can’t have that photo out in the world.
He smiled again at those amazing breasts. It would be a shame to erase that photograph, but he’d honor her request. It was the least he could do, considering their situation. He hit delete.
Your photo is gone. I’ll miss it and the girls. They made a mighty pretty picture, he wrote.
Your photo is gone, too.
He wondered why she thought she had to delete it. Was she married, after all? Pain lanced through him, and he forced himself to sit with it. After all, he wasn’t going to marry Heather, was he? She was supposed to be off limits to him.
Memories of the last time they’d been together flooded back into his mind, and the guilt he’d carried all these years flared up. He’d betrayed Austin again. He’d betrayed Aaron’s memory.
Colt? You still there?
After a long moment, he answered, Yes.
Tell me something about you. Something no one else knows. I want to feel close to you.
He stared at what she’d written, the mood between them spoiled by his memories. I killed my father, he wrote before he could stop himself. Do you feel close to me now?
Alone in the bedroom her grandparents had allocated to her in their spacious condo, Heather clutched her phone until her fingers turned white.
I killed my father, she read again. This was worse than she’d thought. She knew their time together and his father’s death were tangled in Colt’s mind, but she’d never guessed he actually thought he’d caused Aaron’s aneurysm. How could he have? That’s not how aneurysms worked.
She worried at her lower lip with her teeth, caught herself and stopped. If Colt thought their being together had killed Aaron, did that mean Aaron knew about them? Was that it?
A sinking feeling in her gut told her she was right. If Aaron had known, had he forbidden Colt to be with her? If he had, and Colt had disobeyed…
Heather closed her eyes. No wonder he’d never spoken to her again. Things between them were even more impossible than she’d thought. It was bad enough they’d gone behind Austin’s back to be together—she still cringed to think of how quickly she’d moved from Austin to Colt. If Colt thought he’d caused Aaron’s death, there was no way he’d ever want to be with her again.
She wanted to ask Colt what he meant straight out but she couldn’t without telling him who she was. She had to tread carefully.
If you really killed your father, you wouldn’t say so outright. So you must mean you think you did something that inadvertently led to his death, and now that he’s gone you feel guilty for that.
Am I right?
She waited for hours, but Colt didn’t write her back. Camila did around midnight.
What’s happening?
I blew it, Heather texted back.
Chapter Six
‡
Heather’s words haunted Colt all the next morning as he cooled his heels in the Billings motel room. Yes, she was right; he did feel guilty about what he’d done. His father hadn’t wanted him to be with Heather. He’d obviously worried that Colt and Austin would fight when Austin found out. Colt wasn’t sure how his father had discovered he was seeing Heather, but he figured that what had seemed clandestine to a sixteen year old had been patently obvious to a grown man. Austin had been mooning around the house for weeks over the way Heather had dumped him. That hadn’t stopped him from planning his Army career, however. As far as Colt could tell, it was his decision to enlist that had broken him and Heather up in the first place. What had he thought Heather would do during all the years he planned to be away—wait for him?
Colt supposed that was exactly what Austin had hoped.
They were just kids, though—all of them. His father had to know they’d grow up and move on. What were the chances that any of them would marry his high school sweetheart?
The answer made him shove his feet into his boots, grab his coat and head out the door. His parents had been high school sweethearts, and if Heather had been a certain kind of patient woman, she and Austin might have married someday. Austin was loyal.
Heather hadn’t been. Neither had he. Colt shoved his hands into his pockets against the chill Montana wind. None of this had any bearing on his present circumstances. Nothing he did now could bring his father back. Austin had moved on and married Ella, a former Hollywood actress who now had an interest in equine therapy and screenwriting. He should be able to get past his guilt and move on, too, but he knew it wasn’t as simple as that. Not by a long shot.
His phone vibrated, startling him, and he pulled it from his pocket.
A message from Heather’s fake account.
Are things looking any brighter by the light of day?
He looked around him and realized he ought to pay more attention to where he was walking. He was in a retail section of Billings, trudging down a snowy sidewalk as cars and trucks edged past carefully on the slick roads.
A little, he typed.
Glad to hear it.
He waited for her to ask him about what he’d said last night and was relieved when she didn’t.
Got any clothes on? he wrote and pressed send. He immediately wished he could erase the words. He had to stop this before they both got hurt.
Unfortunately, yes. I have to go to a family gathering soon. I’m going to wear my most boring outfit.
He smiled. You could wear your stilettos.
I wish I could wear sweatpants.
Another fantasy goes up in flames, he typed quickly.
LOL. Maybe I’ll slip into something less comfortable tonight for you
.
If you do, I’ll help you get up to all kinds of trouble, he said.
I bet trouble is your middle name.
Colt paused. Hadn’t Heather said that to him once before? Trouble is your middle name, Colt. The memory overtook him—on their first date he’d told her about the time he and a few friends had taken a car for a joyride and nearly wrecked it. That was how she responded, with a light in her eye that told him his recklessness turned her on a little.
Yeah, you might say that.
My mother would say that about me, too. I got in a lot of trouble when I was young.
He wondered if Heather’s mother had found out about their tryst in her car.
I bet you’re the pinnacle of responsibility now.
Really? I flashed a stranger my breasts.
The stranger appreciated it a lot.
I’m not usually like this, she said. Something about your ad captured my imagination.
Your responses have captured my imagination, too. He knew he should cut this short, but he was hoping he and Heather could chat a while longer.
Heather? He typed a few minutes later when she didn’t respond, then deleted the name quickly. Helena, you still there?
He got no reply.
When Richard flung her bedroom door open again, Heather shrieked and tossed her phone across the room. “Richard! Knock first!”
“What’re you doing? Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
“I’m e-mailing friends. You scared the daylights out of me.”
Richard went to fetch the phone, but Heather leaped from her bed and snatched it away from him. “No way, buster. That’s mine!”
“You’re acting weird.”
“And you’re supposed to knock.”
“Sorry. I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.” She cringed. What kind of mother got angry because her son interrupted her flirting session?
The kind who had sex over the Internet, apparently. No wonder she was jumpy; she was taking a hell of a risk doing these things with Colt. It dawned on her that her conversations with him would never go away. They would be in Colt’s e-mail records even if she deleted hers.
Worse, as far as Colt was concerned he was fooling around online with Helena—a total stranger. She was basically helping the man she cared for cheat on herself.
He hadn’t sought her out the way she had looked for him. And judging by the eager way he’d fooled around with Helena last night, he wasn’t exactly pining for her, either. Colt had moved on a long time ago. Any more conversations between them were just going to increase her pain when she watched him marry someone else. She got up, shooed Richard out the door, turned off her phone, plugged it into her charger, and swore she wouldn’t talk to Colt again.
An hour later, sitting in the back seat of her grandfather’s truck squashed between her mother and Richard, Heather felt a bit like a child herself. She wished it was true and she could start all over again—
She glanced at Richard and amended that thought. Not for the world would she give up her son, even if it meant she could have created a different life for herself. It was just that sometimes she thought that all the adventures in her life were over. It felt like everyone else had jumped on a fast-moving train and left her behind.
But that was silly. Richard was thirteen. In four and a half years he’d go to college. In eight years he’d head out on his own. By the time she was forty she’d have an empty nest. Heck, many women were just starting their families then—she wasn’t washed up yet.
As the landscape passed by her window, she wondered about the other adults in the truck. Had they ever felt a sense of disappointment in their lives?
She turned her head and caught her mother watching her.
“What?” she asked.
To her surprise her mother took her hand and squeezed it. “It’ll get easier, honey.”
Heather checked to make sure Richard was chatting with her grandparents and asked Audrey in a low tone, “Did you ever feel restless when you were raising me alone? Like maybe you were missing out? I mean, I love Richard so much—”
“Of course you do. And yes, I felt restless. You do what you have to do when you’re a parent. When you’re a mother.” Heather’s father had left when she was very young and Audrey had never dated during her childhood. Heather wondered why she’d never married again, but her mother had always discouraged those kinds of conversations.
“Do you still feel restless?” Heather asked cautiously.
“Sometimes,” Audrey admitted.
“There’s nothing to hold you back. You could have an adventure,” Heather said, surprised by the sadness in her mother’s voice.
“I could,” Audrey said. “Maybe I should. I don’t seem to know how to start.”
“Neither do I.”
“New Year’s is a time for resolutions.” Her mother lifted their clasped hands. “Should we tempt fate?”
“And resolve to have adventures?” Heather thought about that. “Why not? That sounds like a terrific idea.”
“Then I resolve to have an adventure in the coming year,” Audrey said.
“I resolve to have an adventure in the coming year, too.” Heather grinned at her. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt on the same page as her mother. It felt good.
“I want an adventure,” Richard piped up.
Heather’s smile faltered. She’d forgotten for a minute that Colt was coming home. That might be adventure enough. “I have a feeling you will.”
Don’t suppose I could get you back in those high heels, Colt typed that evening. He’d expected Heather to contact him but so far she hadn’t, so he decided she was waiting for him to take the next step.
You could try, but I’m slippery from the coconut oil I just spread all over myself. I’d probably get away.
He grinned at her quick answer, his body stirring with interest. I could help you rub it in.
I’d like that.
Where are you?
Warming myself by the fire. On a bearskin rug, of course.
He liked that visual. Of course. If I was there I’d heat you up right quick.
I bet you would.
I’d start by oiling myself up too.
That might be dangerous, she wrote back. What if you slide right off me?
Then I’d climb back on and rub myself all over your body, he went on. When you were good and hot, I’d slide right in.
Sounds good. I like the way you make love to me, Colt.
He hesitated. I like the way you let me make love to you. He wished Heather was here and he could explore her body in real life like he was in his fantasy.
Are we ever going to make this real, Colt?
He thought about that. I don’t know.
Heather nearly growled in frustration. She was hot and bothered and wanted Colt to take her right now, but he was hundreds of miles away and he didn’t even know who she really was. The coconut oil she’d mentioned was imaginary, as was the fireplace. In reality, she was back in her sweatpants and T-shirt, sitting in her bed in her grandparents’ guest room.
I’m Heather. The woman you left behind. The mother of your child, she typed, and then quickly erased the words again. She knew Colt; the direct method would never work. If she wanted to get him hooked on her she’d have to try something different.
Forget sex, she typed. And hit send.
Forget sex???? he wrote back.
Just for now. Let’s get to know each other a little better.
If we have to.
She laughed. Vintage Colt. We have to. We each get three questions. I’ll go first. If you could be anything, what would you be?
There was a long pause before he wrote back. I was going to say I wanted to be in the Air Force again, but that’s not true. I want to be a rancher, like my father was.
Heather sucked in a breath. That was huge for him to admit. Now you ask me a question.
What’s your biggest regret?
> That I let the love of my life get away from me. Would he know she meant him? Of course not. But she wished he did. What’s yours?
Another pause. I have two. Trouble is, they contradict each other. I regret I disappointed my father when I was young. He wanted me to stay away from a woman and I didn’t listen to him. On the other hand, I regret I didn’t hang onto that woman when my father died. What’s the best sex you ever had?
Heather blinked back the sting of tears, even as she laughed at his sudden change of topic. She bet he wanted to lighten things up, but his answer to her previous question warmed her heart. He had loved her once.
Apart from yesterday? The best sex I ever had was in the back seat of my mother’s car with a hot young cowboy who rocked my world. What’s one place you’d like to have sex with me?
Right here in my motel room. What’s your favorite position?
She pulled up Colt’s photograph and imagined what it would be like to be with him. However you want me. As often as you want me.
She waited for him to answer. After a minute, her phone chimed. No more questions? he asked.
That was three. I’d better go. She didn’t want to, but it was late and Richard would be up early. So would her grandparents. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve, which meant an endless day and night of cooking, eating, friends and parties.
I didn’t even get to fondle your breasts yet.
I’ll see you in your dreams.
I sure hope so.
Night.
Good-night.
Chapter Seven
‡
Talk to me, Helena, Colt typed on New Year’s Eve. He’d never thought of himself as a drinking man, although he could hold his own, but the pile of empty beer bottles stacked up on his bedside table signified something else. Time was passing and soon he’d have to leave this sanctuary. He’d decided he would give his brothers one last day of peace tomorrow to sleep off any New Year’s hangovers they might acquire. January second would find him home at Crescent Hall, ready to face his future.
His phone chimed almost instantly with an answer.
