He was sure of some things he hadn’t been able to pin down before, like how he felt about Paige and living out the rest of his life on the Silver Spur. He’d loved his years in rodeo, thrived on the competition and excitement, but now he was content to make the switch from participant to spectator, and let other men ride the bulls and the broncs.
As for Tate and Garrett, well, he supposed they’d always see him as their little brother, at least some of the time. That didn’t bother Austin so much anymore, because now he knew he could stand toe to toe with one or both of them if the need arose, and hold his own. The other side of that coin was the bone-deep certainty that his brothers always had his back, just as he had theirs.
Whenever he’d needed them, they were there, and the reverse was true as well. Being a McKettrick was a blood-bond, something that went way beyond common loyalty and family feeling.
For the first time, Austin had a glimmer of what it would mean to carry that pride into the next generation, to be a strong link in the chain.
And the only woman in the world he wanted was Paige.
PAIGE TOOK REAL PRIDE in being Julie’s sister that night, when the auditorium next to the high school filled with a closing-night crowd. There were so many people in attendance, even though there had been several previous performances, that the massive sliding doors separating the main theater from the annex had to be opened and folding chairs set up.
Austin sat beside her, wearing crisp jeans, good boots and a starched white shirt. He’d taken her hand, and though his grip was easy, Paige knew he wouldn’t let her go, no matter what, and there was solace in that.
She felt a buzz of excitement, down deep, that had little to do with the play. The closest she could have come to defining the sensation was to say that there was a new certainty in her, a new kind of strength, lasting and good.
The McKettrick bunch took up a whole first row, and there was a lot of standing up and shaking hands as they greeted friends and neighbors. Folks inquired after Austin’s shoulder and Paige’s foot, and said they didn’t know what the world was coming to when a man wasn’t safe on his own oil field, and never mind the time of day.
Brent Brogan came, along with his aunt, Gerbera, and his two children. He looked extrahandsome, having donned a natty black suit instead of his uniform.
Like Austin, Garrett and Tate wore more casual jeans and cotton shirts, and Calvin wore a miniature version of the same outfit. He had a little hat, boots and a McKettrick belt buckle, recent gifts from Garrett.
Libby, like Paige, wore a long skirt and a lightweight sweater, and Audrey and Ava were all done up in their “Thanksgiving” outfits —pretty, velvet dresses, one red and one blue, and cut differently—with their hair in French braids.
They’d talked Libby into letting them wear the dresses early, even though Thanksgiving was still a week away.
Folks settled into their seats and quieted, faces bright with expectation. The lights went down.
The band members, fidgeting in the orchestra pit until then, launched smoothly into the prelude. Except for a few squeaky notes, to be expected of high school musicians, they did an amazing job. All that dedicated practice was paying off.
The costumes, designed and sewn at home in most cases, were splendid. The dancing, much-rehearsed if still a little on the awkward side at times, was impressive, and so was the singing.
Paige watched and listened, delighted, as her sister’s project went off without any significant hitches.
When it was over, the audience leaped to its feet, whistling and stomping as well as clapping and the actors, crew and band members all took well-deserved bows.
Julie was the woman of the hour, though, and as she took the stage, she looked very glamorous in her simple black dress and the double strand of creamy ivory pearls Garrett had given her earlier in the evening. Her reddish hair glinted in the lights, and her changeable eyes looked silver-gray. Her smile sought and found Calvin and Garrett, sitting together, and rested softly on them for a moment.
Julie thanked everyone who had been involved in the production—from actors to stagehands to volunteers and school staff—and said what an honor it had been to share in the whole process. One of the drama club mothers joined her onstage, carrying a giant bouquet of yellow roses, and placed them in Julie’s arms. The applause began again and climbed to a thunderous crescendo. Julie positively glowed.
She was still surrounded by a delighted and grateful community when Austin retrieved Paige’s crutches from under the seats and then stood to help her to her feet. She caught Julie’s eye and winked, and Julie winked back, smiled and mouthed the words, “Go. I’ll see you at home.”
Home.
The word made Paige feel slightly melancholy as she let Austin guide her up the aisle, opening the way for both of them as beaming audience members streamed in the opposite direction, bent on offering their congratulations to the team of people who had made the production possible.
They’d borrowed Tate’s Jaguar for the evening, because it was easier for Paige to get in and out of it with her cast, and Austin stood watching her with shining eyes as he held open the passenger-side door. Getting settled inside was quite a process, but between the two of them, they managed.
“Guess what,” Paige said sunnily when Austin was behind the wheel, buckled in and starting the motor.
He slanted a grin at her. “What?”
“The renovations on the house are finally done,” Paige said. “I can move in any time.”
Austin didn’t immediately respond, and that was something of a disappointment to Paige, although she didn’t acknowledge the fact.
“Of course,” she went on, keeping her tone bright, “I can’t start my new job at the clinic until I’m out of this cast, but there will be plenty to keep me busy anyway, between the wedding preparations and picking out new furniture and getting settled and everything.”
He was quiet, navigating the darkened, almost-empty roads that were so familiar to both of them.
“Austin?” Paige prompted.
He tossed her a grin—it didn’t seem to have the usual juice behind it, but that might have been because of the low light—and said, as if she’d called roll, “Right here.”
“The play was marvelous, wasn’t it?”
Austin chuckled. As he turned his head to check for oncoming traffic at the stop sign, Paige noticed that his neck was sun-browned above his snowy-white shirt collar. “Quite an accomplishment,” he agreed. “For Julie and for that bunch of rascals she’s been riding herd over all these weeks.”
“Is something wrong?” Paige asked after a little pause. She sensed a shift in Austin since they’d left the auditorium and the crowd of people.
“Nothing is wrong,” Austin replied.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
He chuckled. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s because I’m from Mars and you’re from Venus.”
Paige laughed. Straightened the loose-fitting skirt she’d bought specially for the occasion. Because of the cast, she couldn’t wear most of her regular clothes, but she’d developed a new fondness for wearing skirts and dresses—she liked the femininity of the soft, floaty fabrics.
“Austin McKettrick, did you actually read that book?”
“Hell, no,” he responded good-naturedly. “I traveled with a rodeo groupie for a while, once upon a time, and she read it aloud to me thinking it might inspire me to talk to her more.”
The image amused Paige, and that was an interesting development in itself. Once, the thought of Austin with another woman, groupie or not, would have made her want to chase him down Main Street in a golf cart.
“Did it?” she asked sweetly. “Inspire you, I mean?”
“Not to talk,” Austin replied.
They both laughed at that.
And then they were silent for a while, comfortably so, letting the Jaguar roll over the dark, sometimes-bumpy roads, taking them back to the place that was, for one of them at
least, a true home.
When they reached the ranch house, Austin parked the Jag in its assigned spot in the garage, got out of the car and came around to open the door for Paige and offer his hand.
It was the usual thing, Paige thought, and yet she felt oddly jumpy inside, practically buzzing with anticipation. In a little while, she and Austin would be in bed, making love.
And that was fine by her.
But first, Shep needed to go outside, and Austin wanted to check on Molly and the rest of the horses before they called it a night.
Inside the house, Shep greeted them with happy yips and some tail chasing in front of the back door.
Austin, who had been looking down into Paige’s face, about to say something, chuckled and shook his head. “Duty first,” he said.
“I’m coming with you,” Paige told him.
For a moment, Austin looked as though he might argue the point, but in the end, he didn’t. The three of them, man, woman and dog, ventured out into the night.
Stars twinkled overhead, millions of them, as though pricking through a vast, arching canopy of dark velvet. Looking up, Paige felt the same awe and wonder she had as a child.
Were there other places like Earth out there? Were there other people, and animals, gazing in their direction and speculating about similar mysteries?
Paige and Austin waited while Shep did what he had to do, and then they all moved on toward the barn. There were no vehicles around, and Shep didn’t seem at all agitated.
Molly stood, cozy, in her stall, enjoying an evening snack from her feeder. Paige felt a rush of joy just looking at the little mare. Molly had come so far in such a short time. Eventually, with a lot more care and training, she would be Calvin’s horse. For now, the little boy reveled in helping Garrett and Austin with the animal’s day-to-day care, and there was definitely a bond forming between the two of them.
Austin went into Molly’s stall, shut the door between him and Paige, who wasn’t wearing the right shoes—or, more accurately, shoe, singular—to be walking in manure.
Come to think of it, neither was Austin, who was wearing his good boots tonight, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He murmured to the horse, running his hands over her, his touch as knowledgeable as the sweep of his gaze.
Watching Austin with a horse or a dog or, for that matter, a child, fascinated Paige. Moved her nearly to tears at times. It was, she supposed, that combination of strength and gentleness that made Austin McKettrick the man he was. The man she loved.
He reached over the stall door to plop his hat onto her head, then rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, picked up a brush and began to groom Molly, speaking softly to the animal as he tended to her. His every touch was sure and firm, and yet indescribably tender, too.
Paige pushed the hat to the back of her head so she could see better, and she felt a familiar awakening inside her, because she knew Austin would be touching her soon, in all the most intimate places.
He might have known what she was thinking—the slightest reflection of a grin would touch down somewhere on his expressive mouth every so often—but he didn’t say so.
No, Austin took his time brushing down that horse, just the way he always took his time with Paige, preparing her for their lovemaking. Why, sometimes he’d start getting her worked up hours before there was any hope of privacy, with a touch or a glance or a sound he made sure only she could hear.
There certainly was no hurrying him.
Considering these things, Paige felt her nipples harden under the fabric of her bra, and then there was that melting heat that meant her body was readying itself to take him inside.
Finally, Austin finished with the chore, put the brush back where it was kept, patted Molly’s flank in farewell and stepped out of the stall. In the breezeway, he chuckled and curved an arm around Paige’s waist, easing her against him. The hat fell off when he kissed her, and neither one of them were in any big hurry to retrieve it.
“I guess it’s about that time,” he drawled when the kiss finally ended.
Paige had to struggle to catch her breath. “Time to go to bed, you mean?” she asked, and then blushed. After all, he could have been referring to something besides sex.
Austin grinned. “Time to make love,” he replied. “In or out of a bed.” He tasted her mouth again. “I’ve got something to tell you,” he added, “and something to ask you, but I want to wait until you’re all warm and soft and pink-skinned from the best climax I can possibly give you.”
Her heartbeat speeded up, and so did her breath. “You say the most outrageous things, Austin McKettrick,” she said, but her voice trembled with excitement, because the only things more outrageous than the ones Austin said were the ones he did.
He took the crutches from her, leaned them against one of the poles supporting the barn roof. Then, as easily as if she weighed nothing at all, he swept her up into his arms.
“Austin,” she gasped. “Your back—”
He ignored her protest—it was pretty halfhearted—and carried her along the breezeway and into an empty stall at the end farthest from the door. Mares used that space when they foaled; it was large and closed off from the rest of the building, and the floor was laid with mounds of clean, fragrant wood shavings.
There was an overhead light, a single bulb dangling high in the rafters, and Austin left that burning, but shut and latched the door, to ensure their privacy.
Paige stood with a hand resting against the wall and watched him, searching inside herself for the courage to say it straight out, the thing that burned inside her, night and day.
I love you, Austin McKettrick. I want to be your woman, for all time, and for you to be my man. I want to have your babies. I want to take your name, let the whole world know that I belong to you and you belong to me.
“What did you want to ask me?” she murmured.
He spread his jacket over a bale of hay, without speaking, and sat her down on it.
Paige trembled, but not because she was cold. The stall was well insulated against the chill of the night beyond.
Austin crouched in front of her, slid her skirt, now pooled around her feet, up above her shoe and the cumbersome cast, above her knees to the middle of her thighs.
Paige groaned. “Austin,” she said.
He moved at his own pace, as always, uncovering the parts of her he wanted with methodical ease. He freed her breasts from her bra, and he kissed and fondled them, and weighed them in his calloused hands. He chafed the nipples with the sides of his thumbs, and when Paige began to whimper and moan, he smiled and went right on driving her out of her mind.
Finally, Austin turned Paige sideways on that bale of hay—she felt the prickles even through his jacket and didn’t mind at all—and laid her down on her back. He raised her skirt and he took her panties down, and Paige was already lost, already well on her way to the first peak. Sometimes, she even had spontaneous orgasms with Austin, when he was kissing her deeply, or sucking her breasts, or simply nibbling at her earlobe between throaty descriptions of everything he meant to do to her.
He parted her, and stroked her with the lightest, most fiery passes of his fingertips, and when he finally took what he wanted, Paige cried out and erupted into an immediate climax, one that made her shout and buck against Austin’s mouth.
He showed her no quarter at all, but drew every last tremulous whimper out of her while her body flexed and spasmed, helpless with ecstasy.
Gradually, while he murmured to her, and stroked her thighs, Paige descended from the heights, drifting like a skydiver. Floating, hanging up, every few seconds, on a smaller climax.
When the fall was complete, she sighed, winding a finger in Austin’s hair. “Ummm,” she said, when she had the breath to make any sound at all. “That was—nice.”
He chuckled. Kissed her bare belly, and immediately began teasing her with his fingers.
“‘Nice’?” he murmured, pretending to be offended.
&nbs
p; “Austin,” Paige moaned softly, “you said—”
She’d been about to remind him that he wanted to tell her something, ask her something, but then she was back in his mouth again and all coherency was gone. All she could do was cry out as the pleasure seized her, over and over again.
She didn’t know how long it had been when he finally let her rest. He smoothed her skirt for her, sat her up, righted her bra and the front of her sweater.
She just sat there, on that spiky bale of hay, grinning like an idiot, boneless as a drunk. Austin seemed to waver in front of her, like an image reflected on water; Paige had to blink a few times before he came into clear focus.
“Ummm,” she said again, setting her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward so her forehead rested on the top of his head. “You do know how to treat a lady, Austin McKettrick.”
He chuckled, curved a finger under her chin and lifted, so she had to look at him. “Listen to me,” he said.
She blinked, very slowly, literally dazed with contentment, drunk with a satisfaction so thorough that it seemed impossible that she’d ever need him again. But she knew she would, and it would be sooner, not later.
“I’m—listening,” she said.
Austin held her face in his hands. Touched the tip of his nose to hers, then drew back, though not far.
“I love you, Paige Remington,” he told her. His voice, like his expression, was solemn, almost grave. His eyes threatened, by their very blueness, to break her heart. “You might have trouble believing that, but it’s true.”
Happy tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Austin,” she whispered.
“I love you,” he repeated, as though fearing he might lose his momentum if he didn’t keep right on talking. “And I’m asking you to marry me, and have our babies and live on this ranch with me from now on. Will you do it?”
“Of course I will,” Paige answered softly. “I love you, too, Austin. And I can’t think of any better way to spend the rest of my life than with you.”
Austin’s eyes widened—was it possible that he’d expected her to refuse?
In the next moment, he confirmed that with, “You mean it?”
McKettricks of Texas: Austin Page 29
