One to Take (Stuart & Mariska): Sexy Cowboy (One to Hold Book 8)

by Tia Louise

  “Mom seems to enjoy visiting the place, too.” It’s my turn to give him a sly grin. “She’s been coming out here quite a bit since December.”

  His hand is still on my shoulder, and he gives it a gentle push. “It’s not her kind of life. It never has been.”

  My dad came to Great Falls once, shortly after Bill bought the place. He was supposed to stay a week, but he left after two days. It was too wild, too uncontrollable. I remember a time when I wanted to be just like my dad, then I learned things I never wanted to know about my father. As a Marine, he died with honor, but he and I weren’t as much alike as I used to believe. He made my mother sad for a very long time.

  I know Bill won’t confide in me about his feelings for Sylvia, his brother’s widow. I think I understand his reasoning, but still I wish he would. Instead he leaves me at the hearth with more questions than answers, as usual.

  * * *

  Mariska

  Even with our trip to the craft store, Sylvia and I make it back to the ranch with plenty of time before supper. Stuart is in the round pen working with Jessie, and for a moment, I spy on the two of them. I watch as he quietly opens his hand to the side and she bows her head, walking slowly toward him. Her nose is at his chest, and he gives her a treat I can’t see.

  Still, when he reaches up between her ears, she shakes her head and pulls away. Resting my cheek against the weathered wood of the barn door, I sketch out this scene in my mind. My gorgeous cowboy and the beautiful little horse he gave me. As much as he tells me not to get too attached, I know she’s mine.

  For a moment, I watch as she jogs around the pen, until he looks up and sees me watching them. His hazel eyes darken, and it’s like shimmering heat against my skin. It’s time, and I can barely breathe with wanting to tell him.

  “Starting without me?” I walk over to the metal fencing and rest my chin on the top bar.

  Stuart comes to where I’m standing, sliding his warm hands up the sides of my forearms and holding my elbows before leaning down to give me a gentle kiss. Every touch fans anticipation higher in my chest.

  “I wanted to get an idea of her personality.”

  Reaching for his waist, I grip the sides of the striped-white cowboy shirt he’s wearing. “I’m sorry for cutting our ride short this afternoon. Would you come with me now? I’d like us to go somewhere alone.”

  The breeze blows a strand of hair across my face, and he reaches out to smooth it away. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Winona is packing dinner for us. I’d hoped we could drive to the cabin, where we can talk.”

  “Talk?” His dark brow lines.

  Stepping back, I grasp his hands and squeeze them. “Just… trust me.”

  In less than twenty minutes we’re in the truck, driving out toward the little place where our love story began. I look out the window at the miles of green grasses dotted here and there with darker clumps of trees or bushes. The sun is making its way toward the horizon, but the sky is still brilliant blue with lazy clouds drifting along, assuming imaginary shapes and dissolving just as fast.

  Our conversation is light. I tell him almost everything about going into town with his mother, leaving out the most important part of all. It takes all my willpower not to blurt it out.

  Balanced on my lap is an enormous woven basket, complete with a blanket, checkered napkins, and a bottle of sparkling wine. I made sure to slip a bottle of lemonade and a few waters in my overnight bag as well, since I’ll only be having a sip of champagne.

  The travel time is shorter than on horseback, and we’re in the small cabin, tossing our overnight bags on the bed in no time. Stuart moves around the one-room space turning on the water and checking the pilot light on the heater. He’s all business, but I’m internally buzzing.

  “Come on,” I say once he’s done, reaching for his hand and grabbing the basket. A golden glow has settled over the grasses with the setting sun, and I lead him to the space reserved for bonfires on chilly nights. It’s the place where a year ago we sat wrapped in an Indian blanket telling each other everything about ourselves. A shooting star passed over our heads, and I wished he would be the father of my children. I wished he would fall in love with me as deeply as I’d already fallen in love with him.

  “I confess the anticipation is getting to me,” he says, watching me set the basket down and pull out the blanket.

  The constant wind fights with me to spread it until he steps forward to help. Before we left the house, I changed into a lacy white dress with spaghetti straps that tie at the tops of my shoulders and fastened the sides of my hair back in a barrette to keep it out of my face. Stuart is still in the striped shirt and jeans he had on working with Jessie.

  Blanket spread, I motion for him to sit, which he does, and without hesitation, I climb onto his lap facing him, bunching my skirt so I’m in a straddle.

  His hands go to my waist, and those beautiful eyes, more green than brown, fix on mine with the usual intensity. My bottom lip is between my teeth, and I suddenly feel as if an orange is stuck in my throat. Reaching for his neck, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  “I’ve been waiting to tell you this…” My voice is soft, breathy, and his hands slide up and down my sides.

  Looking into his eyes with the golden glow all around us, I can’t help thinking how amazing this moment is, magical. Flickering through my thoughts is the notion that what I’m about to say will change us forever.

  “Okay,” he says, as if urging me on.

  Touching my lip with my tongue, I slide my thumbs along the line of his strong jaw. “I…” a little laugh. I don’t know why my eyes are heating. “I think I’m going to cry.”

  “Mariska,” his voice is a low groan. “You’re killing me.”

  I laugh, and a tear drops. Just say it, silly. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a slow inhale, and say the words.

  “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

  For a moment the only noises are the wind in the grass and the far-off cry of a bird. Stuart’s hands freeze on my waist, and his eyes are the only things communicating with me. I’m looking deep into them as he blinks a few times, processing the meaning of what I’ve just said. Equally fast I see them fill with wonder.

  He takes my face in both hands, and he touches me gently, his thumbs tracing the top of my cheekbones. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yes,” I say, starting to laugh. My own hands are still resting on his neck, waiting for what happens next.

  “Mariska…” He pulls me closer to kiss me, pushing my lips apart and finding my tongue, threading his fingers into the sides of my hair as our mouths chase each other, wonderful heat growing between us. When he leans back again, amazement is still on his face. “How? I mean, strike that. It’s just… you’ve been on the pill since—”

  “I know! I don’t know what happened.” I shrug, gripping the tops of his toned shoulders. “I noticed my body acting weird, then I figured out I’d skipped a period. By the time I finally went to the doctor I was eight weeks along.”

  “Eight weeks…” His eyes drop to my stomach followed closely by his hands. Holding my sides, he runs his palm along my still-flat stomach. “How far along are you now?”

  “The doctor in town said I’m at twelve weeks. It’s time to do an ultrasound, but I couldn’t do it without you there.”

  “The doctor in town?” His eyes are back on mine, and I nod, laughing again. “It’s why you were so distracted by Sylvia. You told my mother?”

  “She found out. She caught me doing my daily bump check.”

  “Bump check,” he repeats, looking down again and again sliding his hand across my stomach. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

  Reaching for his cheeks again, I lift his gaze, needing to see his eyes when I say it. “Are you happy?”

  Something flickers in his eyes, and in one fast move he catches my face, pulling it to his for a long, lingering kiss. He parts my lips, his to
ngue tracing the side of mine before moving to my cheek then he straightens to kiss my temple, my brow, before moving down again to find my eyes.

  “I can’t believe it,” he says, his voice as quiet as mine.

  My eyes are hot again, and I blink fast. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes isn’t right… Yes is too small a word.” He touches my cheek again. “You’re having my baby.”

  “Stuart!” I can’t take these non-answers. My heart is beating painfully hard, and I need to hear him say it. “Is it okay? I know it’s not how we planned it, and I know you like to be in charge of everything—”

  “Stop.” It’s a gentle order, and my lips press together. He kisses me once more, only briefly before catching my eyes again. “I’ve wanted this since our first night.”

  Relief floods through me, and with a happy laugh, I dive forward, pushing my arms around his neck, holding his chest against mine so tight.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He’s holding me just as tight, and I feel his lips against my shoulder. “For what?”

  “For making me a family.”

  My eyes press closed so the only thing I know is the warmth of our bodies touching, the beating of our hearts together, our breath swirling in and out in a rhythm all our own. The beautiful dream, my wish, has come true.

  6

  Ours

  Stuart

  The moment the words leave Mariska’s mouth, all the conflict in my mind recedes into the deep background. We’re having a baby. I study those four words a moment.

  I’m thrilled, of course. And of course, that settles the question. We’ll go back to Princeton. Quick math tells me if she’s three months along, she’ll have the baby in late December or early January, and there’s no fucking way I’ll have her out here in the middle of winter going into labor.

  Money isn’t a concern, and my condo in Princeton is plenty large enough for a baby. We have Walter (a.k.a., the best doorman on the planet) ready to get her anything she needs on a moment’s notice. Eventually, when it’s time for school, we’ll discuss moving. School…

  She might have to take a semester off from grad school, but I’m sure she’s not the first woman to get pregnant and have to take a break. Just let those fuckers at Princeton try to give her a hard time. They can talk to me.

  “Stuart!” Her desperate plea snaps me from the sudden To-Do list scrolling through my brain.

  I focus on her gorgeous sunset eyes now round and filled with tears. Why the fuck is she crying? My brow clutches.

  Her sweet voice trembles. “I know it’s not how we planned it, and I know you like to be in charge of everything—”

  What the hell?

  “Stop.” My voice is stern.

  I grab her beautiful face and kiss her hard. How can she not know how many times I’ve pictured this moment? I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve held her sexy body in my arms and tried to imagine her pregnant. Last year when we first met, even through the sickness of withdrawal, I had a whisper of this moment in my mind.

  Holding her now, her slim body is fused against me. Her arms are surprisingly strong around my neck, and I slide my hands up and down her back until I feel the tension begin to subside. Why was she afraid to tell me?

  Sometimes my beautiful bride reminds me of a wild horse when it first arrives on the ranch. Its thoughts are scattered and wild, and I have to spend extra time reassuring it it’s in a safe place.

  “You need to eat something,” I say, releasing her arms and moving her back to face me. “You’re growing a whole little human in there. No more toast for breakfast.”

  Her chin drops and she laughs. “Dr. Brown said my weight gain is right on track. The whole ‘eating for two’ rule is actually a myth.”

  A sudden gust of wind pushes a dark lock across her smooth, tanned cheek. I reach for it and move it away. “Now I understand.”

  Her slim brows clutch. “What?”

  “Last week, last night… your body’s changing.”

  Pink floods her cheeks. “Well, I am gaining weight. It’s pretty much unavoidable.”

  “That isn’t what I meant…”

  Slim hands push my chest and she tries to get off my lap. Fuck that. I’ve got her around the waist, pulling her right back into a straddle facing me. Still, she jerks her chin away. The breeze blows her hair wildly, and I almost laugh it’s so cute.

  “Hey,” I say softly. She doesn’t respond. “Look at me.”

  “No.”

  I can’t believe this. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I pull her chin around forcing her to face my eyes. She looks down at what I suppose is the vicinity of my chin.

  “I meant your skin is… glowing?” God, I sound like an idiot. “I’m not a poet, Mariska. You just seem more beautiful somehow.”

  Those dark lashes flutter rapidly, and I know she’s coming back to me. Releasing my hold on her waist, I gently cup her breasts. “I’ve definitely noticed a difference in these.”

  “Stuart,” she grins, meeting my eyes now.

  “That’s better,” I say, leaning forward to taste her sweet lips again. Pulling back, I catch her golden eyes. “Is this why you started without me last night?”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Lately, I’m sort of… always ready to go it seems.”

  That’s enough for me. “Then why the hell are we sitting here talking?”

  I tug the string of her spaghetti strap, and it releases, allowing the front of the filmy white dress she’s wearing to fall away on one side. The creamy top of her breast is exposed, a soft swell above the dark edge of her areola.

  “Beautiful,” I murmur, leaning forward to kiss her firmly right on the side of her breast. She sighs a little noise, cupping my face. I feel her lips press against my ear, the soft warmth of her sigh is a gentle whisper at my neck.

  In that moment, a new thought takes hold in my mind. I have to be gentle now. She’s pregnant. She’s carrying my baby. Pushing against the log at my back, I lift her to her feet.

  “How are you feeling?” I lean down to catch her eye.

  She seems confused. “Like I want you to fuck me?”

  Her words tease my old self, but I push that shit down. In the past if she’d said that, I’d catch her by the waist and turn her around, pull her pretty head against my chest and threaten to spank that sweet little ass. Not now.

  “Come on.” I take her hand and lead her toward the house. “I’ll make love to you.”

  “This is new.” Her nose wrinkles, and she holds the side of her dress up as I lead her to the small cabin.

  We can’t sleep here. Jesus, this place is a hole. Stepping inside the door, I pull her to me, smoothing my hands down the sides of her face. “Let me see your stomach.”

  “Okay.” She flushes a pretty shade of pink as she pulls the string of her other spaghetti strap.

  The filmy white top flutters down to her waist exposing her soft breasts. My dick immediately responds. Tightness spreads across my fly. Shit, she’s gorgeous. Cupping the bottom of her fuller breasts, I slide my thumbs gently across her nipples watching them peak. A little shiver moves through her, and her fingers move around her waist, pushing the rest of the fabric to the floor along with her lace thong.

  “I don’t want you to rip it,” she says with a grin. “I didn’t pack enough extras.”

  My voice is rough. “I won’t rip them anymore.”

  “I’m not sure I like that.” She steps closer to me, looking up into my eyes. Small hands take mine and she guides them to her waist, over her flat stomach.

  “Get on the bed,” I say, trying not to order.

  She turns and climbs onto the old quilt covering the double bed. She does a little shake with her pretty ass before turning around to face me, still grinning.

  “Tease,” I growl, my palm itching.

  “You’re very overdressed.” She’s on her knees unfastening my buttons, but my hands are on her thighs, sliding up her smooth skin to the cur
ve of her lower back. This magical body…

  My shirt’s open, and she leans forward to kiss my skin. It’s feather-light, and I smooth her hair back from her face. I want to fuck her, but I want to look at her first. I want to memorize every inch of her so I can watch as she changes.

  Jeans open, she slides her hand down and up my straining cock, grazing her thumb over the tip. A hiss slips between my teeth. I can’t take much more of this.

  “Lie back,” I say.

  She drops back onto her heels before leaning all the way on her elbows. Her knees are bent, and I lightly touch her inner thigh, tracing a line to the center. Chill bumps follow in my wake, and her dark head drops back with a little moan. Pausing in the middle, I run my thumb up and down the seam of her sex, slippery wet. Her thighs jump when I find her clit and give it a slow stroke, a little circle.

  “Yes,” she sighs, covering my hand with hers.

  Stepping out of my jeans, I drop to my knees and wrap my arms around her legs, pulling her to me and opening her.

  “I wonder if you taste sweeter,” I say, kissing the inside of her thigh at my cheek.

  “Oh, god,” she gasps as my kisses rise higher.

  When I reach the top, I slide a long taste over her bare pussy, giving that little bud a teasing swipe.

  “Yesss,” she moans long and low, and I lean forward, working my lips over her so I can give it a little suck. Her hands slap the mattress beside me and her hips jerk as she cries out. I don’t let up. I know how to make this body come hard.

  “Oh god, Stuart! Oh, god!” She’s writhing and moaning. Her responses are faster, and as I circle my tongue and suck once more, she begins to shake and push as if trying to get away while at the same time gripping the sides of my hair with her fingers.