by BJ Wane
“Don’t push me, Glascott.” Dead silence greeted his knowledge of Glascott’s identity. “Yeah, you son-of-a-bitch, I know who you are. It was worth spending a few thousand of my fee to have someone follow the money trail of my down payment, so do not fucking push me. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up, satisfied with the day’s work.
Kurt struggled to get the image of Leslie walking in on a murder out of his head but failed miserably. Waking the next morning after a long sleepless night, the first thing he did after dressing was check to see if she’d fared any better. Finding her in the kitchen making a stack of banana and nut pancakes, a cup of coffee within reach and swaying to whatever song was playing in her earplugs, he realized he needn’t have worried.
She jumped when he snuck up behind her, gripped her hips and pulled her back against him. The hand flipping a pancake on the griddle stilled as she turned her head and glared at him. Yanking out the earplugs, she grumbled, “You could’ve let me know you were there.”
“I could have but this was more fun.” Lowering his head, he nipped her earlobe and she shivered against him. “You’re up early, and look well-rested. No problem sleeping after your flashback yesterday?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve had plenty of time to learn to adjust when that memory pops up. I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”
“You didn’t, just caught me by surprise and I’m still working my way toward coping with what you went through.” Sliding his hands upward, he watched her face as he skimmed his thumbs over her nipples, her light sweater and bra not enough to hide the instant pucker.
“In case you didn’t notice, I’m still struggling with coping. I’m not sleeping with you, Kurt,” she reminded him in a breathless rush.
“Not asking you to, sweetheart. When I’m touching you, sleeping is the last thing on my mind.” Satisfied, he stepped back and moved to the opposite counter to pour a cup of coffee. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Why are you making breakfast? Babs leaves casseroles in the refrigerator for the weekend.”
“I told her not to make one for breakfast. I need something to do and enjoy cooking when I have the time. Right now, I have too much time on my hands. I’m going stir crazy.” She set a platter with a tall stack of golden brown pancakes on the table where he noticed three place settings. When she saw his questioning look, she sighed with a shake of her head. “I thought Leland would join us but he declined. He wasn’t happy when I refused to bring him a plate.”
“He’s not happy no matter what anyone does,” Kurt retorted as he took a seat. “But thanks for trying.” Digging into the fluffy pancakes, he knew he needed to tell her more about Brittany’s death, but opted to wait until he took her riding. Having a view of the wide-open prairies backed by the snow-capped mountains with the endless blue sky above him and a fresh breeze to stir his senses helped distract from the melancholy talking about his sister always produced.
“Since you’ve tabled our Dom/sub relationship, we’ll stay home tonight from the club. Looking at your head, I’m guessing the rest of your bruises are in the same sickly greenish/yellow stage and still a little sore, so that’s just as well, but are you up for a slow ride this afternoon?”
Leslie’s eyes lit up, her desire for more activity outweighing any lingering discomfort from the accident. “I can be ready as soon as I clean up in here.”
“I do love your enthusiasm, sweetheart. Damn, these are good.”
“Thanks. My sister taught me how to cook and passed Mom’s recipes down to me.” A shadow darkened her eyes before she averted them. “I haven’t made them in a while.”
He poured more syrup over his fourth serving. “You haven’t spoken to your sister since entering the program?”
“No. I was allowed to tell her I was entering it and say goodbye. She understood but I miss her.”
He hated seeing a return of that desolate sadness on her face. “Then let’s hope the Feds can find something on this guy soon. Come on. Let’s finish and get going.” With luck, his surprise followed by her first ride would perk her up.
Kurt helped her clear the table and then she shooed him out to finish by herself so he could check on his father before they left. It didn’t surprise him to find Leland staring out his bedroom window. Taking a deep breath, he decided it was time to bring up why he’d separated himself from Leland and his home for so long. If he expected Leslie to open up about her past, he could do no less.
“Monday will be ten years.”
Leland’s shoulders went rigid at the reminder and Kurt didn’t need to see his face for proof he wasn’t happy. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ve suffered her loss every damn day since, without you or your mother around to help bear the grief.”
“You can’t blame me for that. I’m no more responsible for Mother’s cancer than I was for Brittany’s drug and alcohol abuse,” he retorted. Bracing for a return of accusations, Kurt jolted when his father agreed.
“You’re right, you weren’t.”
The relief rushing through his veins propelled him forward. “Well, that was a long time coming.” He needed to speak with him face to face, but Leland held up a hand, halting his stride.
“Go on now. Weather is supposed to turn next week. Get your girl out while it’s still doable.”
That familiar implacable tone halted Kurt. He used that same inflection when he was determined to have his way. At least Leland had finally admitted he was wrong to blame him for his sister’s behavior and death. That was a start, and something he’d all but given up hope of hearing. “There are pancakes in the kitchen. We won’t be gone long.” Not wanting to push his luck, Kurt left him alone to continue his silent vigil.
Leslie waited for Kurt at the front door, glad to see he was still in a good mood following a visit with his father. She never knew when an argument would erupt between them.
“Where are we going?” she asked when he clasped her hand and led her toward the small barn instead of the corral where his horse stood watching him.
“Since you’re wanting something to do, and feel up to moving around more, now’s a good time to give you the gift I picked up a little while ago.” Opening the door, he ushered her inside, the scent of hay and livestock hitting her nose, her curiosity changing to a giddy thrill when he stopped at the first stall.
Leslie had been waging a war against falling in love with Kurt since the night they met, and slowly failing. That was why, upon learning the accident was a deliberate attempt on her life, she’d pounced on that excuse to distance herself from him, at least physically. But as she gazed at the two poorly kept miniature horses from the auction, she lost another battle to keep her heart safe, and this time was in jeopardy of losing the war.
“They’re yours, Leslie,” Kurt said, opening the stall gate.
“But…” She reached out and petted the solid black one who nudged her hand. “I know nothing about how to care for them. And what if I have to leave?” The thought cramped her stomach. Staring at her with soulful eyes were two more reasons to stay.
Waving an impatient hand, he frowned and tightened his grip on hers. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. The vet has them on a special diet to put on weight. They’re still too nervous to turn loose with other horses, but the guys get them outside every day for a few hours. You can take over that chore starting tomorrow. Come on, let’s get going while the sun’s high.”
As soon as they exited the barn, she turned to him with a beaming smile of gratitude, unable to recall when a gift had meant so much. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, but I’ll figure it out.”
Leslie wasn’t prepared for Kurt’s jaw to tighten, or for him to yank her against him to ravish her mouth in a deep, tongue probing, possessively hard kiss right there in front of the ranch hands moving about with their chores. Unable to help herself, she sank against him, taking a moment to relish his unbreakable hold and the surge of aroused pleasure it ignited.
Kurt released her as abru
ptly as he’d hauled her against him, his dark eyes glittering with a look that left her as shaken as that kiss. She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what, but he pressed a finger over her throbbing lips. “Unless you’re going to tell me you’ve changed your mind about tabling our relationship, keep quiet.”
That firm, inexorable tone tugged at her nipples and produced a damp spasm between her suddenly weak legs, taking a chunk out of her resolve to keep him at arm’s length. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”
At least he shoved aside the irritation reflected on his face and in his voice by the time he saddled Atlas, swung up on the huge animal’s back and leaned down with an outstretched hand to her. “Trust me, I won’t let you fall.”
Believing him, Leslie grasped his hand and found herself swung off the ground and plopped in front of him before she could take a deep breath. “Oh!” she gasped, daring to look down. Making a frantic grab for Kurt’s arm, she jerked back.
Kurt chuckled and pulled her against him in a snug embrace as he steered the stallion out of the paddock. “Nice and slow. See, not so bad, is it?”
“No, not at this pace,” she admitted, enjoying the sway of their bodies to the horse’s steady movements. At least she didn’t have to worry about the open air feeling cooler as they rode away from the protection of the buildings, not with the heat of Kurt’s body spreading a slow warmth inside her. It was going to be a long ride.
He chuckled, the deep vibration in her ear popping up goosebumps under her sweater and jeans. “Think about the other rides you like to take at a faster, rougher pace.”
“Kurt…”
“Are you going to remind me you’re not sleeping with me again?”
How could he annoy and amuse her at the same time? Unable to answer her own question, she said, “Why waste my breath?” and settled back against him to enjoy herself.
They rode at a sedate walk for thirty minutes, Kurt pointing out the woods he played in as a kid, the trails he rode with Caden and the areas where they used to gather to party as teens. Guiding Atlas through a large herd of black cattle, he stopped to talk to his hired hands, addressing each by name, and told her what physical condition they wait for the cattle to achieve before sending them to auction to get the highest price.
Kurt brought up his sister when they rode away from the others, relaying the sad tale of Brittany’s death in a car accident as they traversed across the sweeping meadows blanketed with wildflowers and prairie grasses, bordered by forests of ponderosa pines, Douglas firs, spruce and aspen trees, the miles and miles of acreage broken up by an occasional island range. Her heart ached for the young girl who had turned in the wrong direction for help in coping with her mother’s death.
“Eighteen is so young to lose a parent and twenty way too young to die. I am so sorry. Is that why you moved to Houston? To get away from the painful memories?” Having buried her mother when Leslie had still been in her teens, she could empathize with their grief.
“No, that decision had more to do with my dad laying the blame on me for failing to get Brittany under control.”
The bitter sadness and underlying temper in his voice drew her head around, anger for the way Leland let his heartache get the better of him churning in her abdomen. “You know you did everything possible, don’t you?”
An indefinable emotion entered his eyes as he squeezed her waist and said gruffly, “I do. And it helps Dad finally admitted he was wrong to do so.” Kurt steered Atlas closer to the woods edge and Leslie caught the gurgling flow of a rushing stream coming through the trees. “I’ll take you fishing in a few days and then grill our catch,” he stated before turning Atlas around to start the trek back.
“Just don’t expect me to touch, clean or debone the things,” she replied, wrinkling her nose at the thought.
“You’re such a city girl,” he mocked, nudging the horse into a trot that jogged her against that hard frame.
His forearm muscles rippled under her hands as she clutched him, her mind shifting from slimy, flopping fish to the bulge her butt kept bouncing against. “Yes, I am,” she admitted, her breath catching as he leaned down to whisper, “Hold on, sweetheart.”
With a kick to his sides, the stallion took off, galloping at a speed that whipped her hair around her face, stole her breath and invigorated her senses. They sped by a shimmering lake, the deer getting a drink blurring along with the ground whizzing by below them. Leslie didn’t know what produced the full body buzz enveloping her by the time Kurt slowed Atlas down – the wild ride or being nestled so close to Kurt again, his thick quads bunching against her hamstrings, his wide chest cradling her shoulders and the sure grip of his hands controlling the strong horse as easily as he had her after getting her naked.
Hours later, as she sank her sore body into a hot bath later that night, the draining, emotion packed day had her second-guessing her hasty decision to end their Dom/sub relationship. Leslie moaned as the heat and soothing water loosened her muscles, but admitted she could use Kurt’s dominance right now to ease the tension of constantly questioning whether she’d made the right choices regarding the threat on her life.
Kurt awoke Monday dreading the day ahead. Rolling out of bed after spending another night without Leslie’s soft, naked body curled around him was only one of the reasons for his foul mood. Padding naked into the adjoining bath, he contemplated the merits and risks of yanking those tight jeans down, bending her over and spanking her ass until she begged for more and his frustration with her stubbornness abated. God knows he’d seen as much need for that action reflected in her eyes as he felt, and damn it, if something didn’t break in her case soon, he would quit suppressing that urge.
Stepping in the shower, the second reason for his ill temper intruded on the enticing image of Leslie’s reddened backside filling his head. He’d refused to come home on the anniversary of Brittany’s death in the last eight years, but given his father’s attitude since Kurt had returned, regardless of his acknowledgement Kurt wasn’t to blame, he was bracing for Leland’s mood to be as sour as when he’d driven Kurt away.
Funny, he mused as he lathered up. After knowing him less than two months, Leslie had turned to him the other day with confidence he’d done everything possible to help his sister after hearing the bare bones of his past. If he weren’t already in love with her, the warmth of that unconditional support that obliterated the cold from his father’s condemnation would have tipped the scales.
Kurt got dressed and headed into the kitchen, not surprised to see the vase of fresh flowers next to Brittany’s picture in the den. Babs always remembered this day, as well as holidays and his sister’s birthday.
“My two favorite girls,” he said as soon as he saw Leslie standing at the griddle next to Babs. “What are you cooking up this morning?” He dropped a kiss on Leslie’s head on his way to the coffee pot.
“Cinnamon rolls just came out of the oven and the eggs are about ready. Your dad refused to come out this morning.” Babs sighed and Leslie frowned, casting him a concerned look.
“Didn’t you expect that?” He squeezed Leslie’s shoulder as he snatched a warm roll. “I’ll take him a plate after I have a cup of coffee and eat this. I refuse to eat a cold breakfast to cater to him.”
Roy came in just then and made himself at home grabbing a plate and joining him, Leslie and Babs at the table. Having their silent support went a long way toward tempering his irritation and by the time he finished eating, he was in a somewhat better mood.
Tugging on Leslie’s hair as he stood, he said, “As soon as I see to a few things, I’ll return and take you riding again. I have a docile mare you’ll like.” Her eyes lit with pleasure and she leaned her head into his hand, a gesture lost on the other couple, but not on him.
“If you think I can handle riding solo, I’m game. I’ll be ready when you are.”
“That’s my girl.” Satisfied, he filled a
plate for Leland and took a fortifying breath as he strode down the hall.
His father’s strident voice reached him as he entered the master bedroom, dashing his hopes for another surprise change of heart today. “Don’t argue, just cancel the damn appointment!”
“If that’s what you want.”
Cory’s resigned disappointment stirred up Kurt’s temper. Stalking across the room, he all but slammed the plate down on the small table, glaring at Leland who had turned from the window. “I’m assuming you’re backing out of going in for therapy again.”
“Don’t start. You know what today is.”
Kurt looked at Cory. “Go get breakfast. The people in the kitchen are preferable to this stubborn coot.”
At least Leland waited until his aide left the room before rounding on Kurt. “You of all people should know how difficult today is,” he snapped.
“Since you never let me forget it, yes. What does that have to do with you going to the clinic for therapy?”
“I’m not in the mood, and I told you I know you weren’t to blame for anything,” he returned with a stubborn set to his jaw.
“That was your excuse last week for skipping therapy, and acknowledging your mistake is a good first step, but it’s not enough, Dad.” Crossing his arms, Kurt glared at him, refusing to back down. “I’m getting tired of pulling your weight around here. There are things you could be doing, and more things you would be capable of if you would put out a little effort.”
“Fuck this God damned ranch!” he burst out, his face mottled with anger as he spun his chair around. “You have no idea what it’s like to lose a child. It rips you up inside, leaves a hole nothing and no one can fill.”
Bitterness roiled in Kurt’s gut and rose in a nauseous ball to clog his throat. If it wasn’t for Leslie, he would go pack and leave for good. All his efforts in running the ranch these past weeks meant nothing to Leland. Saying he wasn’t enough to fill the gap in his life from Brittany’s death hurt. Leland had lost Kurt for eight years, and yet he still refused to work his way back to standing by his side.
