Riding the Storm

by Delilah Hunt

  Zara flushed, stopping with one foot on the pavement, the other inside the car. She turned toward the voice belonging to her boss and possibly her only friend in the ranching town of Carson, Annette Harcourt. “I’m driving over to Rain Valley.”

  Annette’s eyes widened behind her burgundy rimmed glasses. “Really?”

  She resisted the urge to groan, hoping her boss wouldn’t view her as a home wrecker like many of the residents in town did. Which was idiotic because it was plain to see that Matthew was devoted to his late wife. Still is.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” she explained. “He thinks he owes me because I brought some food over to the ranch yesterday.”

  “Zara. It’s all right. Whatever it is between you and Matt, that’s no one’s business but your own.”

  Ha. There wasn’t anything between them to speak of. Although people liked to imagined there was just to have something to gossip over. “Trust me. There’s nothing. I’m just getting a tour, that’s all.”

  Annette waved her off. “Have fun. I miss going over there too. Used to visit a lot when his mother was alive.”

  Zara sat behind the steering wheel and drove out of the parking lot, once again turning onto the familiar back roads leading to the ranch. Lush green hills rolled across the valley scattered with ponderosa pines and offset by the snow-capped Rocky Mountains in the distance that overlooked the herd of cattle grazing by the split rail fence.

  One thing was for sure. Matthew took extreme pride in maintaining the land and animals. No wonder Rain Valley was among the most prosperous cattle ranches in Montana.

  Zara parked her car in the driveway, her heart thudding at the sight of Matthew leaning against the trunk of a magnificent cedar tree. She bit her lips, taking him in. Dark hair cut short, but not enough to prevent her fingers from threading through the thick mass with effortless ease. If we had that type of a relationship. Matthew had a strong jaw and chiseled features that made him seem harsh and unbending, which, these days he was with her. His jeans and button down shirt fit snug over his towering, muscular frame.

  She’d never seen him without a shirt on, but even fully clothed it was plain to see Matthew Caldwell was a powerhouse. Lean and stacked with rippling, sinewy muscles. Overwhelming jealousy assailed her. Of his late wife and all the women she knew he would move on with in the future if he wasn’t already.

  “Are you ready?”

  His voice jarred her into motion. She strode toward him as he stomped away from the tree. Her exhilaration deflated in lieu of his flat emotionless tone. What did you expect?

  “Good evening.”

  Matthew had the good grace to blush. He rubbed his forefinger above his eyebrow. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m sure you can understand that. Let’s just hurry up and do this.” His lips curved into a half smile meant to lighten the weight of his words. It didn’t.

  Forcing herself, she uttered the words he without a doubt wanted to hear from her. “You don’t have to show me around. I didn’t expect any payment from you. Let’s just call this off.”

  Matthew glared at her. “You don’t know anything about my intentions. Come on before it starts to rain.”

  She frowned and looked up. The clear blue skies from minutes before had transformed into a gray overcast. “Don’t you think it’s going to rain soon? Maybe we should postpone it.”

  He moved ahead of her, leaving Zara with no choice but to sprint to catch up with his long strides. “Yeah, it’s going to rain. I’d say give it another hour or so. If I don’t get to show you all of Rain Valley today we can do it another time.”

  “Okay.”

  She wasn’t dumb. Matthew wanted to continue the tour because there was a good chance of evening showers, which meant they’d soon return to front of the house and the rain check for her to come back another day would be forgotten.

  Zara trailed beside him, the idea of returning to her car growing stronger by the second. Stoic in appearance, Matthew stared straight ahead without sparing her the briefest of looks.

  Sighing, she wondered what Matthew must be thinking of her being here on the ranch he used to tell her so much about. Of course she’d never asked to visit when he shared stories with her because she knew her feelings for him were inappropriate. It always seemed as if he was happy to have a willing ear to listen, and she provided that and nothing else. With that assumption, she’d ached for him, secretly wishing to know the details of his marriage. Again, inappropriate.

  “Here we are,” Matthew announced, leading her into the large stable. Zara glanced around in amazement. There was row after row of stalls filled with hay and horses that paid her no attention. All them belonged to him?

  He stopped in front of a stall housing what had to be the largest horse in the stable. Oh God, they were going riding! Zara swallowed her panic. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? The ranch was too vast for them to traverse on foot.

  Zara gulped. “That’s your horse?”

  He opened the stall, leading the horse out into the open. “They’re all mine.” She imagined his chest swelling with pride. “I’ve had this one since he was a colt.” He turned to Zara and his face relaxed into the semblance of a smile. Patting the horse’s forehead, he focused on her, then back at the horse. “Whiskey, meet Zara.”

  Her lips twitched, admitting defeat to the snicker that followed. “You named your horse Whiskey?”

  Matthew lifted his eyebrows and his lips thinned into a line of mock offense. “Tell me something. Have you ever named a horse? Think you could do a better job?”

  “I’m pretty sure I could come up with something more creative than Whiskey. I assumed any horse belonging to you would have a more…powerful name.”

  She had said the wrong thing. His fist tightened around the reins and his jaw was clenched. “Maybe you’ve been thinking about me too much, Z.” He led the stallion outside the wooden building and Zara skulked behind, heart halfway up to her throat. Didn’t he remember the last time he’d called her Z? He’d said it on an anguished groan right before they’d kissed. Something she would never forget. Even now her lips tingled from the touch, which she now knew had been a mistake on his part. He’d said so without mincing words after his profuse apology.

  Zara shrugged. “I don’t have time to think about you and it’s not like there was ever anything to think about.”

  “You’re right about that.” He looked away from her and in an expert motion, swung his leg over the horse.

  “Let’s go. The clouds are rolling in.” He extended his hand to her.

  She placed her hands in his as warm tingles raced up her spine. His hand closed around hers and with a strong tug he hoisted her up into the saddle behind him.

  Unsure of what to do, Zara thought about putting her arms around his waist. No! With the mood he was in, she was sure Matthew wouldn’t appreciate her being closer to him than was called for. God, but she really was going land flat on her face if he prodded Whiskey to go faster than a trot.

  Zara moved her hand forward then drew it back. What to say? Tell him you’re scared and have never been on a horse before, much less one as big as Whiskey. Sighing, she flattened her palm on his back.

  “Matthew?” She knew she had to sound like the biggest wimp. So be it.

  He stiffened beneath her touch. In an agonizing slowness he shifted his head gazing back at her. Zara winced from the intensity in his blue eyes and her lower belly heated with want.

  “What is it?”

  The harsh bite in his tone told her this wasn’t going to work. Shaking her head she straightened her spine. “Nothing. I’m certain this isn’t a good idea. It’s obvious you’re forcing yourself to do this and the last thing I want is to end up with broken bones my first time on a horse.” She lifted her leg to swing it over the side of the horse when a strong hand halted her movement, closing over her thigh.

  “You’re afraid?” His brows drew together and a frown marred his features.
r />   Zara nodded. “A little.”

  His eyes peered into hers for a few more seconds. Against her control the heat smoldering inside her womb melted, wetting her panties. Her face burned. God, she was needy for him. Not here. Not now. What if he could tell that she was aroused? She’d never be able to look him in the eyes again.

  The hand on her thigh eased up a bit, but nevertheless remained on her flesh, a firm yet gentle touch building on the ache inside her cunt.

  “Put your arms around my waist. If the horse is going too fast for you, let me know.” He lifted his brows. “I don’t want you to be afraid, got it?”

  She nodded and he lifted his hand from her leg and gripped the reins, launching the stallion into a trot then a light gallop. With her arms locked around him, she took in the scenery. Verdant grassland stretched out for miles and newborn calves trailed behind heifers. She cast her gaze upward, spying a woodpecker tapping at one of the many pine trees dotting the landscape.

  They came to a narrow bridge constructed of stone a few feet above a creek, the bedding of which was lined with colorful pebbles. Matthew tugged on the reins and the horse whinnied, coming to a hurried stop. Gasping, she held on to Matthew, clenching her arms around his waist.

  Chuckling, Matthew turned to her. “Lighten up. I told you to stop being scared of the damn horse.”

  She kept her arms in place and wrinkled her nose. “Easy for you to say. You were probably born on a horse.”

  Matthew laughed and shook his head. “You, Miss Whitley, are ten times worse at telling jokes than I am, but you’re partly right. I wasn’t born on a horse, but I was born on the ranch. Guess I was too eager to wait for the ride to the hospital.” He paused and looked off in the distance. “I could never sell this place. I think if I had done it, it would have haunted me for the rest of my days.”

  Zara stiffened. Sell the ranch? Matthew loved this place like the air he breathed. Heck the air on the ranch itself was probably the best quality in the entire Northwest.

  “Why were you thinking of selling?”

  He expelled a sharp breath. “She wanted to move closer to the city.”

  Zara froze. Matthew had never discussed his marriage with her before and she had no idea how to react. Neutral, feign disinterest.

  “Oh.”

  To her surprise Matthew continued. “Krissy thought if we were someplace else, closer to her family in Missoula, that things would get better.” His eyes grew dark reminding her of the approaching thunderstorm. “We both knew it wouldn’t help.”

  Without thinking, Zara rested her head on his back. “I’m glad you decided not to sell the ranch.”

  His face immediately closed up, cutting off all emotions that were gathering. Turning around he grated out. “Let’s keep going before it starts to rain.”

  Too late.

  He pushed the mount into a steady gallop over the bridge. Beyond the hill leading to the house, a burst of thunder ricocheted in the air followed by a streak of lightening tearing in a tree, the branch of which could be seen hitting the ground. Fat droplets of rain poured from the skies and beat against their skin.

  “Shit” She heard Matthew growl, urging the horse into a faster gallop. Soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, Zara pushed back a limp strand of hair that fell over her forehead, wiping the raindrops from her eyes while keeping an arm around Matthew as the horse raced toward the stable.

  “You all right back there?” Matthew shouted over the booming sound of another clap of thunder.

  “I’m f-f-fine.”

  At last they reached to the stable and Matthew quickly jumped off, linked his hands around her waist, and lifted her from the horse. Another minute and Whiskey was secured inside his stall safe from the raindrops pelting the roof. Matthew grabbed her hand, holding it tight as they rushed to the house.

  He wrenched the door open and pushed her inside before closing the door after himself. The first thing she became aware of was the sound of dripping water hitting the tiles. The second, she was standing soaking wet inside Matthew’s home. Her clothes felt heavy and clung to her skin, coldness seeping into her pores.

  Leaning against a wall with one leg up yanking off his soaked boots, Matthew lifted his gaze to her. “Damn. I didn’t expect it to come this soon or so hard.”

  “It was nice regardless of the rain.” She fished inside her pockets for her keys, glancing out the large bay windows. “I’m going to head out before it gets any worse.”

  Matthew kicked his boots to the side and straightened. “There’s not a fucking chance in hell I’m letting you go out there in this weather.”

  Zara gaped at him, opening and closing her mouth. The look on his face said it all. No arguments. In truth, she didn’t want to argue with him. Not on this. Another droplet of water hit the floor splitting the terse silence. Matthew’s gaze drifted from her face to the sodden jacket plastered to her body. Zara inhaled. God she could actually feel his eyes on her. Her pussy tingled and heat spiraled into her veins despite the cold, drenched clothes.

  Finally his eyes locked onto hers. “Take the jacket off before you flood my house,” he instructed gruffly, looking away.

  Following his orders, she peeled the wet garment from her shoulders then made a show of folding it over her arms to avoid looking at him. She was soaking wet and burning up for Matthew Caldwell inside the home he had shared with his deceased wife, who had cursed her out on the day of her death.

  It could get no lower.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

  “You shouldn’t.”

  Zara looked up, stunned and hurt by his admission. Their gazes collided and his eyes coursed down her sodden frame. Her nipples puckered and strained against the thin lace bra visible through her pale yellow shirt. Heat crept into her face knowing there was no way he could have missed them.

  “I’ll give you something to put on so you can throw those clothes into the dryer.”

  Relief flooded her along with a dose of disappointment. She was standing in front of him, her entire body nearly visible and outlined, yet he remained unaffected. He didn’t want her sexually and he didn’t want her as a friend either. God but she was slow. All this time she thought their friendship would get back on track in time. So wrong. Matthew was politely giving her hints to leave him alone for good and she refused to take them.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, trailing behind him as he led her down the hallway. They stopped in front of a door and he turned to her.

  “Wait here.”

  He kept on walking until she lost sight of him going into what she assumed was his bedroom. Less than a minute later he reappeared with a blue T-shirt in hand, MSU printed in golden-yellow on the front.

  He half handed, half tossed it to her. “You can change inside this bathroom. When you’re finished just let me know and I’ll show you where the laundry room is.”

  Zara nodded, went inside the bathroom and quickly shrugged out of her wet clothes. She paused at the underwear, cringing at the notion of placing it inside his dryer. She changed into the oversized shirt, thankful that it fell just above her knees providing enough coverage to keep further embarrassment at bay.

  By the time she exited the bathroom, Matthew was headed down the hall wearing a different pair of jeans and shirt.

  “Come on, I’ll show you.” He walked past her.

  Numbly, she followed behind him wishing more than ever the thunderstorm would end. Matthew refused to look at her and for that she was grateful. The moment her clothes came out of the dryer she would leave. Whatever part of her heart she had given to Matthew Caldwell would have to stay buried.

  Zara sighed. Better late than never. Steadying her tattered nerves she watched him push open a door at the end of a corner passage, holding it ajar.

  “This is it.”

  A large, white, front loading washer sat beside the matching dryer. Resting against the wall opposite the washer and dryer was a small, dark, wooden chair that appear
ed to be hand carved. At least they wouldn’t have to suffer together in awkward silence. Wet clothes in hands, she turned to Matthew. “I’ll wait in here.”

  He regarded her for a moment then gave a curt nod, closing the door behind him.

  Zara threw the clothing in the dryer then hunkered down in the chair. Drawing up her legs, Zara rested her chin on her knees staring at the machine. She looked up at the minute countdown on the dryer. Five minutes passed and yet it seemed like she was forever waiting. It could be raining like the day of the Great Flood, she didn’t care, as soon as her clothes were halfway dry she was leaving and going back to her apartment. She folded her fists and pursed her lips. Starting tomorrow, her days of making a fool of herself over Matthew Caldwell were over.

  Chapter Three

  Matthew paced in the living room.

  Inside the house with him was Zara, alone in that tiny room wearing his old university shirt and not a stitch of underwear. No doubt his shirt was brushing against her smooth dark brown skin, caressing the soft triangle between her legs. Matthew raked a hand through his hair. What the hell was he doing, pacing around thinking of what Zara’s pussy looked like, how good it would feel to sink his cock into her?

  He was supposed to be telling her all the reasons a friendship and relationship between the two of them wouldn’t be possible. Only thing was he could scarcely remember those reasons himself.

  His hand fell to the front of his pants. Damn. It had been a long time, no, he’d never, been this hard for a woman. Fucking painful. It felt so good riding with her behind him on the horse. His cock had shot to life the moment she’d whispered his name. And after he’d seen the small trace of fear in her eyes, he’d wanted nothing more than to hold her, reassure her that he would never allow anything to happen to her.

  Matthew squeezed his cock. Zara might not be the most gorgeous woman, but she had the type of beauty inside and out that made a man want to fall to his knees and worship the quiet sweetness and gentleness she exuded.