Lauren

by Mima

  It was hard to order her thoughts, but she needed to make a decision. Did she want to trot him out at the dance, or drag him into privacy? Or should she dump this crazy flirtation altogether and go solo?

  “Sorrel,” Lauren breathed heavily into the mic, sounding like the ghost of Darth Vader. “You broke me! Is that what you want to hear? Tommy thinks I was cruel not to talk to you. Well, screw you both.”

  Sorrel screeched something and the crowd muttered, growing darker. She’d pushed into the fringes of the crowd, but many of them were still looking at the stage. She shoved someone to try to get through and that man turned and shoved her back. That knocked her into someone hard and his face contorted. Someone else threw a beer. Curses started to rise from the crowd.

  “Here now, Ma’am. I need that mic back. Song’s over. Calm down.” Ted the announcer strode up to her, big hand reaching.

  She scurried to the far side of the stage, past the gaping trumpet player. “If it had been anyone else, I’d have probably been fine.” Her voice filled the whole barn. “But nooo, he had to kiss you. It wasn’t just a kiss! You ripped out my entire foundation. Because it was you.”

  Lauren waved her hand around wildly. Some men up near the stage began pushing and shouting, so she raised her voice over them. “You were my best friend! And you ruined everything! And he never fucking stepped away from you!” Her voice climbing octaves with tension, she clutched the microphone with two hands, watching with glee as Sorrel flailed around in the middle of the crowd.

  “Miss! Now, you stop that.” White Hat tried to get the mic from her but she gave him the shoulder, boxing him out. He was so much bigger than she was, though, and he got one hand on her forearm, yanking to get it back. She wouldn’t have it for much longer.

  “Tommy!” she screeched. She couldn’t pick him out anymore. People were pouring into the barn, coming away from the bar. “I hate you! I loved you so much! How could you? With her!” She pointed dramatically. “You bastard, Tommy.”

  She huffed as she wrestled White Hat to keep the mic. The crowd had gone wild, fists and hats and even a hot dog flying through the air.

  “Geez!” White Hat got the mic but stood for a minute, at a loss over the melee that had broken out across most of the barn. Half the people seemed delighted, half terrified.

  Lauren tried to grab the mic back, aware she was completely out of control, but unable to help herself. It was like pus draining from a lanced abscess.

  White Hat Ted slapped at her hands.

  “I hate you!” she screamed, angling her face to try to get closer to the mic.

  Ted rounded on her and roared in her face. “That. Is. E-nough!”

  He put the mic up to his own mouth and resettled his hat with determination. “Here now, folks. Just a little domestic dispute. Please, this is a family event. Calm down. Guys, let’s take it outside. Everybody just step back for a moment.”

  His voice was deep and slow. Thankfully, some of the fights seemed to break up right away. Lauren had her hands pressed to her flaming cheeks. She turned in a tight circle. Oh, God. What if Eunice was hurt? How had it all gone so wrong, so fast? She kicked a bottle off the stage, sending it into the barn wall.

  White Hat Ted glared at her. Lowering the mic, he pointed to the floor. “Git down there and quit it.”

  Lauren crossed her arms and pouted. He started toward her and she quickly sat, scrambling to jump down onto the straw-strewn concrete. She fluffed her skirt, walked through the litter of a tipped garbage can, and jostled around a group still shoving each other. What a mess! But it had felt so good! And she was so ashamed!

  Now, the whole world knew how Sorrel and Tommy had broken her heart.

  Sharing a saddle with Walt seemed daring and suddenly Lauren was feeling like a stuntwoman.

  “I’d love to go visit the waterfall with you. I should probably change, though.”

  He nodded slowly. “Horse hair and bare skin don’t really go together.” His eyes trailed down her body. “It would be a crime to rough up those soft-looking legs.”

  Well, now! Lauren caught her hand fluttering up to her neck like she was some overcome schoolmarm. She cleared her throat.

  “My cabin is the last one, just there. The Wagon Wheel. I’ll only be a moment.” Adjusting her mental crash helmet, she added, “Would you like to come in and wait? It’s much cooler inside.”

  He considered her. “Are you one of those females with a five-minute moment or a half-hour moment?”

  She laughed. “Five minutes, tops.”

  “Then I’ll be fine with Wheezy. Make sure you call the main lodge and let them know where we’re off to.”

  When she turned to walk back to the cabin, she had another kind of moment. It was an oh-crap-he’s-going-to-watch-me-walk-all-the-way-over-there moment. Her inner stuntwoman sidled up to the open airplane and jumped. With a slow saunter, she made sure her steps were graceful, her shoulders back, her hips swinging gently but not obviously. By the time she bent for her key and opened her door, her heart was beating as if she were in freefall. She pulled the chute cord and ducked into her cabin for a perfect landing.

  Leaning against the rough wood door, she laughed breathlessly.

  Walt! An honest-to-goodness Montana rancher. And she was going to share his horse.

  She threw her towel in the air with glee. Grimacing, she stuffed her warm self into socks, jeans, an awesome orange V-neck T-shirt, and her new boots with the little heel the ranch had recommended for stirrups.

  While giving a quick brush to her sleek hair, she called the main lodge. Betsy answered and Lauren told her she was riding to the waterfall with Walt.

  “Well, isn’t that sweet!” Betsy didn’t send out one vibe of caution. “Do you need a horse saddled at the stable?”

  “We’re going to share his.”

  “Oh. I guess it is fairly close at that. Have a nice time, dear. I hope you won’t miss the hoedown. We have a hat waiting for you.”

  Lauren kept her tongue between her teeth and said good-bye. Abruptly, she knew she’d keep all evening options open with Walt. Including late night options.

  She opened the door and stopped dead. Wheezy filled the view along the porch. Walt was already astride, looking down at her from near the porch overhang.

  His gaze went right to her thighs. “Can you lift your legs in those?”

  “Sure. They’re Lycra.”

  He muttered what sounded like “They’re something, all right.”

  “Just let me lock up.” She used the key and went to put it in her pocket.

  “Nah, that won’t work. You’ll gouge yourself as you ride.” He patted the back of his saddle. “Want me to hold onto that for you? Or would you rather put it back under the steps?”

  She handed it to him with a saucy flip of her wrist. “Why, sir, I do believe I trust you with my bedroom.”

  He didn’t grin in return. “Yes, Ma’am. You surely can. You’ll be safe with me.” He slid the key under a leather flap and into a pocket.

  “Thanks,” she said softly, resisting the urge to fan herself. “I called Betsy. She doesn’t want us to miss the hoedown.”

  “It’s a good time.” He stuck out one foot in a stirrup the size of her head and said more clearly, “Give me your right hand and step up on here with your left foot.”

  The directions took her a second to process. Feeling a bit like she was playing Twister back in college, she managed to follow them. With a lift and a twist, she soared through the air. Her butt plopped across one hard male thigh. She yelped, astonished. His arm came securely around her, and she was sitting sidesaddle, staring at her cabin. The horn of the western saddle gouged into one cheek. At least she hoped it was the saddle horn.

  Wheezy stood like a statue while Walt rolled his body and made more room for her in front of him. “Hold the pommel and get your leg
over. I’ve got ya.”

  His arm lowered down to her waist, one big hand firm on her hip. Licking her lip, she concentrated on not braining Wheezy and flung one leg over. Packing her bum back against Walt’s groin, her body went up in flames.

  “My legs are too long for you to brace well on my boots, so make sure you hold on.” He clucked his tongue and Wheezy, well, wheezed. He set off with a walk that had all the interest of a bored child. She could feel his hooves drag in the dirt.

  “C’mon, you ol’ goat.” Walt flicked the reins lightly. Wheezy picked up a bit and they headed off to the right, upstream along the river. “You doin’ all right, Lauren?”

  Lauren wasn’t sure if she was. Her ass rocked into his pelvis with every swing of Wheezy’s long legs. The block of the saddle horn ground against her mound in a circular motion. Maybe it was just the way her legs were spread so wide that made it feel lewd. The ground moved by at a far more rapid pace than she expected.

  “I guess so,” she said finally.

  The sun shone hard overhead and he was incredibly warm. Sweat started to trickle down her spine almost immediately. The river babbling alongside them didn’t help. She yelped with a little jump when Wheezy’s silky-looking tail lashed her leg with a sting right through her jeans.

  The horse looked back over his shoulder at her with disbelief.

  “Well, it hurt,” Lauren retorted.

  Walt’s chuckle relaxed her. “You’re doin’ fine. Wheezy is used to carrying loads with me, and you don’t weigh more’n a calf.”

  While wondering how to respond to being compared to a cow, Lauren became more sharply aware of how wide her legs were split, with the seam of her jeans rubbing key places. Her plans to factor Walt into her evening went from possible to near definite.

  Walt clucked again and Wheezy picked up speed. The swing in his step was much more pronounced now. Lauren’s body swayed sharply to and fro. Walt’s torso was hard and flat behind her. She was reminded of dirty dancing at a club, only doing it way up on a horse and in broad daylight made it seem more intimate.

  “What kind of a ranch do you have?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Llamas.”

  Cocking her head, she considered the word, shook her ears out and asked, “Pardon?”

  “I breed alpacas and llamas. I’ve got a couple of vicuñas, but they’re more for fun.”

  “I see.” Actually, she didn’t. “Do you eat them?”

  “I sell some to slaughter, yeah, but mostly I harvest their fleece or sell them to adventure outfitters.”

  The absurd image of Walt knitting popped into her head. She stifled a laugh, but their bodies were so close he felt it.

  “Not what you expected, I guess.” He sounded resigned.

  “No.” She immediately felt contrite. “But it’s awesome. It’s . . .modern.”

  “I find it a lot steadier than worrying over the price of beef.”

  “They’re pretty cute, too.”

  “They’re intelligent, cunning, and willful.”

  “Oh, my.” They were heading up out of the valley’s grassy meadows and into rockier scrub. The heat seemed to beat down off of the cliffs above them. “You don’t like them?”

  “Sure. They’re mostly gentle, curious. They just don’t care at all about people unless they’re trained from birth. Kinda like raising giant cats.”

  She’d seen some llamas in petting zoos. “Do you put little bells on their ears?”

  “Why the hell would I want to do that?” He sounded amused.

  “I saw this llama at a petting zoo that had his ears pierced. He had little jingly brass bells.”

  Now it was Walt’s turn to laugh. It was rich and warm. “You city folk.” His arm shifted on her belly as he hugged her close for a moment.

  Her stomach executed a series of strange little flips. A huge smile settled on her face for no other reason than that she’d pleased him. She hadn’t been this attracted to someone since . . . well, since college, when she’d known she wanted to sleep with a boy the first day she met him.

  Kicking yellow leaves into a tattered sun. Tommy’s laughing face. His hand on her waist bringing her down, icy fingers shoving the soft leaves down her shirt.

  The ground was steep enough now that little crumbling bits of earth cascaded out from under Wheezy’s hooves. The horse lunged a bit to gain ground. Lauren found herself clinging to the saddle with one hand, but her other remained clamped onto Walt’s corded forearm. His thighs shifted and bunched as he braced them in the saddle.

  Finally, Wheezy gained a ridge and heaved a sigh. They were among pines now, and the shade was heavenly.

  “Wheezy seems very strong.” She struggled to get her breath back. His arms coming around her on either side brushed her breasts continuously.

  “Sure he is. He’s a quarter horse.”

  “He seems like a whole horse to me,” she quipped.

  Walt chuckled obligingly.

  Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she was caught again by his blunt face, his face shadowed by that big hat. Close to him now, she could see his eyes were hazel, a lovely gold around the pupil, surrounded by rings of light olive green.

  His fingers were coarse against her cheek. Their light touch bound her, holding her neck at the tight angle. Her lips parted.

  He leaned closer. Stopped. “Miss Lauren,” he murmured huskily.

  “Yes?” she breathed.

  “May I kiss you?”

  Had she thought western manners were sweet? They were annoying. She couldn’t reach his lips in this position or she would have jumped on him. She settled for a disgruntled order. “Come here.”

  His eyes flickered. Just as she thought, Oh, he likes that, he obeyed, bending down over her. His hand slid farther along her cheek, cradling her head, and his lips pressed lightly to hers. She closed her eyes.

  The scent of earth, pine, and horse exploded in her mind. His lips hovered against hers, barely brushing the pad of her lips. She pushed up into him, impatiently licking at his seam. He opened and she swept inside, frantic to discover more about him. He was steady, Wheezy wasn’t, and between the two of them her head swirled. He was so hot, so hard against her.

  She went out on dates fairly often. She kissed guys as a matter of course, just to give them a chance. But kissing Walt was in a whole other class. His taste in her mouth was vital, something that brought a small cry to her throat. Working her jaw, she tried to take more of him, but he lifted away. Her teeth bit into her lower lip. Another order for him to return to her hovered in her lungs, but she kept it back.

  “It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  What? “In case you didn’t notice, I liked it a lot. I like you. A lot.” Now she sounded like an idiotic parrot. But the honesty couldn’t be held back.

  “Your eyes are so nice,” he murmured. “I keep wondering how they can be so blue, but not the same blue as the sky.”

  She was plastered to him, utterly aware of being braless and sweaty. His shirt was damp. A thwap and a sting on her thigh made her jump. Wheezy had gotten her with his tail again. She turned, her spine thanking her.

  Staring at the horse’s rear-facing ears, she smirked. Jealous, much?

  Aloud, she said, “Your eyes are great, too. And it wasn’t too soon.”

  He stayed quiet.

  The peace of the forest and man seeped into her. She was so far from New York, it wasn’t even funny. This was like a different planet and he was an alien. Her hips felt loose as she rolled to the horse’s gait, looser than they ever felt in belly-dancing class.

  She leaned her head back into the hollow of his shoulder and smiled. “Do you share a saddle with many women?”

  “No, Lauren.”

  The way he said her name, slow and low, had her nipples beading tight.

 
; “Lots of women come on to me at this ranch. I told myself I wasn’t going to do that tonight. But you’re too gorgeous. Something’s burning between us, ain’t it?”

  She raised one hand up over her head, finding his big, hard shoulder. She slid her fingers into the sweaty hairs at the nape of his neck. Angled her head more securely into the hollow of his shoulder. “Maybe you should kiss me again.” Baring the side of the throat, she waited, heart thudding.

  “I don’t much like maybes. I like to be clear.”

  She whispered, “Kiss me.”

  The shadow of the forest darkened even more as the brim of his hat lowered over her face. His mouth touched the tendon behind her ear. “How would the Fairy Queen like her kiss? She should be very clear.”

  A strange thrill went through her. Describe a kiss? “Teeth. Lips. No tongue.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  That’s what he gave her. His mouth opened wide, and his teeth skimmed down to the edge of her tee. Back arching, her butt ground against his jeans hard enough she felt his belt buckle in the small of her spine. He did it again on the way up, a glide of firm pressure, but nothing dangerous, nothing dark. Then his lips swirled down after the harder touch, so soft, exploring.

  “So tiny,” he spoke into her ear. “You make me feel like a mountain.”

  Another cluck, but Lauren had learned enough to brace herself. Wheezy started a sort of gliding, bouncing roll. The sensual roll of the fast stroll was gone, her body jouncing hard in a striving beat. She had to rise from resting against him, hold her core harder. The ground flew by much too fast. One side of the mountain fell away in a steep incline that made her lean in toward the cliff.

  “Ohh-hhh-hhh . . .” She was caught between a gasp and a moan.

  “You’re doin’ fine.” Walt reassured her. His body never left the saddle. “It’s not much farther.”

  They came around a curve. Up a rise and across another stretch of scrub, Lauren saw a tree had fallen across the path they followed. Her vision zoomed in on the huge girth of the trunk like she had telescopes for eyes.