The Cowboy's City Girl - An Enemies To Lovers Romance

by Emerson Rose

  Marcus feels my walls spasm around his swollen, ready cock, and he follows me voraciously with his own release, yelling my name, pulsing inside me, filling me.

  Holding each other tight in a calming afterglow, I am sated and exhausted from the stress of the day and the ecstasy Marcus brings to my nights.

  I let myself go limp in his arms, and he lies back, taking me with him.

  I’m tortured by the decision I have to make. I rest my head on his chest, and he pulls the covers up over us. He rubs my back under the sheet and whispers, “Sleep.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He chuckles, “You’re catching on, aren’t you, beautiful?”

  I’m too tired to sling him my sass so I snuggle in deeper, closing my eyes. Tonight, I forget about the sleeping pills and tranquilizers that I use to sleep. Tonight, I have Marcus to take me to that peaceful place instead.

  Thirty-Four

  I have a decision to make, the hardest one I’ve ever had. My love for Marcus runs bone-deep. I’ve told myself I would walk to the ends of the earth over hot coals for him, but I’m discovering that I have seriously underestimated my fears from the past.

  The peace I found in his arms last night was temporary. The dreams seeped in through the cracks in my resolve, saturating my mind in a few short hours.

  Thankfully, when I woke soaked in sweat, clutching the bed sheets, breath heaving from my lungs, he wasn’t there. He probably gave up on sleep and went to his office to deal with his own demons.

  Marcus still doesn’t have a clue about the gruesome details of my torture at the hands of those monsters ten years ago. And now I am too afraid to tell him. He has made it clear on two occasions that he’s not interested in hearing about it. No man wants a damaged woman, and once he knows, those images will be burned into his memory.

  Until I saw that woman in my room, so close to me while I slept, I thought my wounds were healed and scarred over. I was vulnerable, defenseless, and unprotected in my bed, in what is supposed to be my home. Watching that video triggered something in me. My self-preservation meter is in overdrive.

  I have to leave him to take myself out of this dangerous equation, and better sooner than later. I can only experience so much pain in one lifetime. I’ve had my share and then some. I can’t do it again. I can’t live my life in fear.

  Marcus kissed me this morning when he left our bed. He said he would be in his office and asked me to come and get him for breakfast later.

  I shower and dress, careful not to draw any unnecessary attention to myself on the security cameras. Then I text my dad to meet me at an ice cream shop he used to take me to when I was little. He is the only person I can ask to help me who wouldn’t expect an explanation.

  He will be there, no questions asked. It’s how my father operates, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that right now. He replies with a simple ‘Ok,’ and I slip my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. I have a single car key hidden in my palm as I head toward the front door. I pray that my car is still in the circle drive where I parked it weeks ago. I pray that his office door will be closed when I go by. And I hope I can run fast enough from the house to my car without being charged by security. I have the element of surprise on my side, and the fact that Marcus is on crutches doesn’t hurt either.

  Maria is in the kitchen making our breakfast, “Hola, Señorita Imani. Is Mr. Castillo joining you for breakfast?” she asks when I pass through the living room on my way to the front door.

  “Oh, um, yes, I’m just on my way to his office to get him. Are you ready for us?” I force a casual tone into my voice, but it cracks.

  “Yes,” she says, stopping to look at me for a second. I’m a terrible liar and I’m nervous, but I smile so she doesn’t know anything’s wrong.

  The front door in sight, I hold my breath until I realize his office doors are closed. I can pass without him seeing me right away. I just need a few seconds… I grab my opportunity and break into a sprint across the foyer and through the doors. I grip my car key tight and press the unlock button repeatedly until I hear the familiar beep of the horn. It’s still there, yes, thank you, God. I pick up the pace and make a beeline for the driver’s side door. When I’m there, I yank it open and fling myself into the seat.

  Doors locked, engine started, I pull around the circle and tense when I see the door to the house burst open. Marcus is standing on the threshold with his crutches. The pain and anger on his face stabs my heart, wounding it forever.

  Our eyes lock through the passenger window in a slow-motion moment when I fly by him. So many things are exchanged in those few seconds: my fear, his confusion, my anxiety, his pain, my desperation, his realization, and, hopefully, someday, understanding.

  He knew I was going to run. He asked me not to last night. I had all but promised with my body to stay, but my survival instinct is in the driver’s seat, and it’s telling me to run.

  I speed down the long driveway expecting the gates to be closed. They’re moving, but I’m faster. I slip through, seconds before it’s too late. In my rearview mirror, I watch two security guards run from either side of the gate waving their arms in the air yelling at me to stop. I watch them get smaller and smaller until they are gone.

  When I reach the main road that will take me away from the threat of violence, pain, or armed attackers, I wilt in my seat. This road is also taking me away from the only man I’ve ever loved.

  Did I make the right decision? The further away I get the more it feels like I didn’t.

  No one follows me. I expected them to but, surprisingly, I make it to the ice cream shop with no tail in sight. My dad is here. I knew he would be. He steps out of his SUV and approaches my car. He taps gently on my window, and I turn my tear-stained face to the glass.

  I didn’t realize I’ve been crying. He opens my door and guides me from my seat, enveloping me in his loving arms. He comforts me without question as I sob into his shoulder.

  No words are spoken; he lets me stand there and cry in the damp, misty Seattle morning until I’m shaking with cold and empty grief.

  He helps me up into his passenger seat and drives me to my childhood home.

  Without Marcus, I feel like the life has been drained from my body. The magnetism that drew us together has nowhere to pull me, the glow that lit my soul when he entered my life snuffed out. I feel dead inside.

  The pain following my attack was all encompassing, I was physically broken and my spirit was crushed, but this… this is a different kind of pain.

  Back then I fought for my life. I wanted to get back some sense of normalcy and I worked toward building a life for myself despite what had happened to me.

  Without Marcus, I shut down; he unknowingly became my reason to live. He was the center of my universe, the other half of me. How am I going to rebuild after this? How am I supposed to go on?

  At the house, I don’t see mom’s car. She isn’t home, thank God.

  Mom is the polar opposite of my father. Where he lets me come around on my own terms, she would badger me to death until she gets an explanation.

  They both love me, just in very different ways.

  In the house, I hear the familiar barks and rustling of animals from the extension on the back of the house. Dad added space for his animal patients that he can’t or won’t leave at the office at night and on the weekends.

  He is a caring veterinarian. He loves every animal he comes into contact with as if it were his own.

  Red lopes toward me and I drop to my knees wrapping my arms around my old friend. Red is an Irish Setter dad rescued years ago.

  He sits patiently, resting his head on my shoulder while I stifle more tears. How do dogs know when you need comfort? If Red had arms, he would be hugging me, and if he could talk, I suspect he would have wise words to say.

  As it is, he’s just the thing I need right now, silent support. He licks the tears from my cheeks when I pull away, and I almost smile.

  I stand and turn to
my dad, who raises his eyebrows in question, but I’m not ready to talk and he knows.

  “Your mom won’t be home until later this afternoon. She’s got some project going on in your old room, but the guest room is available, if you need some time,” he says, nodding in the direction of the stairs.

  I hug him, tightly but briefly, and drag myself up the stairs to the guest room with Red on my heels. We climb into bed together, and I lie staring at the wall while Red curls up at my feet.

  I welcome the catatonic state of mind. In fact, I’d be fine with staring at this boring beige wall until I take my last breath.

  What have I done? How did I allow fear to lead me away from the very thing that was keeping me alive? The very person who makes my heart beat and my soul at peace? I thought this would bring me relief but instead I am numb.

  Thirty-Five

  Sleep. For most people it’s the greatest escape, but not for me.

  Wrapped in Marcus’s arms was the only place since my attack that I’ve been able to sleep peacefully without pills.

  Now that he’s gone, my mind is making sure to torture me in my sleep a thousand-fold.

  I open my eyes and look around my parent’s guest bedroom. I’m standing next to the bed, and Red is on high alert with his front paws spread ready to defend me.

  I can’t even take a nap.

  “Hey, boy, it’s ok. Sorry if I scared you, buddy. It was just a bad dream,” I say, soothing the poor dog. He calms down and returns to his curled-up position at the end of the bed.

  I sit down cross-legged next to him on the bed, and he eyes me suspiciously. I heave a big sigh and scratch him between his ears.

  Music starts to play in my pocket. I can’t even think about talking to anyone right now, but the ringtone on my phone has me confused. I don’t recognize it.

  I lean forward and slide it from the back pocket of my jeans to check the screen. The name makes my heart race, and a thick lump forms in my throat. Hot tears burn two jagged paths down my cheeks while Come Home by One Republic plays hauntingly in my hand. He programmed it in before I even left. I was right, he knew.

  I can’t stand to listen any longer, I blindly punch the ignore button on my screen and flop back into the pillows.

  Before I can think another thought the phone starts again, a different ringtone. This time the screen reads unknown caller and Maroon 5 plays Won’t Go Home Without You. He’s calling from another phone.

  God, he could have a million different phones with a million different sad songs to torture me with. Why can’t he just leave me be?

  If I press ignore, he will probably call again, and I’m not ready to talk. One word from him right now and I could be back in my car headed to his house. I hold down the power button and watch as the glowing screen disappears.

  He’s hurting. I’m hurting. This is insane. The battle between my love for him and my intense need for safety is going to be the death of both of us.

  He’s really doing a number on me with these damn ringtones. I’ll never be able to turn my phone on again. What if that’s not the end of it? Will he come looking for me?

  Of course he will. I have to go to work eventually, and he knows my schedule; he helped make it after all. I didn’t think this through, spur-of-the-moment decisions have never gone well for me.

  I hear the garage door lifting under the guest room. Mom’s home. Great. I feel like shit and I would like nothing more than to be alone and hide under the covers for at least a week. My mother will never let that happen. She’s the reason I made such a full recovery after my attack.

  A relentless mother with a positive attitude and eternal optimism, I never had a chance. I get up and mope to the bathroom to wash my pathetic, swollen eyes and brace myself for my mother’s onslaught of questions and encouraging quotes.

  But she doesn’t come. Could it have been someone else coming home?

  No, no one else would enter through the garage. Waiting for the inevitable is too much. I’d rather just go down stairs and face the music. It was mom. She’s bustling around the kitchen putting groceries away when I step into the kitchen with Red flanking my right side.

  My dad leans against the counter watching mom with adoration. Divorce was a problem many of my friends had to deal with, but I was blessed with parents who loved each other madly.

  “Ah, there’s my girl. Have a good nap?”

  “Yeah.” What a lie.

  “Hi, baby, it’s been way too long,” Mom says, putting down a can of green beans to hug me. When she’s done, she holds me away from her at arms’ length to get a good look at me.

  “You look terrible.” Brutal honesty, yep, that’s my mom.

  “Thanks, I’ve been better.” With pursed lips and furrowed brow, my mom continues to hold me by the shoulders. She’s thinking… oh God, what is she thinking? She releases me from her gaze momentarily to glance at dad and then back at me. What’s going on here? She’s hiding something.

  “Honey, we have to confess something.”

  “Confess? What?” Now I’m really lost. She drops her arms, and dad coughs nervously. I’m officially freaking out; nothing makes my dad nervous.

  “Sweetie, we know about Marcus… and your situation.”

  What the fuck? Did I say that out loud? No? Good. I never swear around my parents and I’d hate to start with ‘fuck.’

  Dad jumps in to rescue mom, “Don’t be upset, princess. I thought you needed some time to process everything. Your mom wanted to attack you this morning, but I sent her on errands to occupy her for a while after you texted me.”

  My mom shoves his shoulder, “I wasn’t going to attack her.”

  “Yeah, right, you wanted to go get her last night when he called.”

  “What? Marcus called? You… you talked to him?”

  They exchange looks again, and mom nods her head up and down.

  “Why?” Dad takes my arm and gently leads me to the kitchen table. He pulls out a chair for me to sit, which is a good thing because I think I’m in shock.

  “He anticipated that you may leave after what happened, and he thought you would come here,” my dad explains.

  “He… did?” Here come the waterworks again. I can’t believe this. How did he know I was going to run when I hadn’t even decided myself?

  Because he is my other half.

  “Oh, honey, he really loves you; he was so worried. I’ve never even met him, but it was easy to recognize how deep his feelings are for you.”

  I have no idea what to say to them, and it really doesn’t matter because I’m currently a blubbering mess. I sob into my hands and cover my face.

  Mom’s arms circle me, and I breathe in the familiar scent of coffee and fabric softener. I love that smell; it’s so comforting and familiar. I squeeze the tears from my eyes, peel myself out of my mother’s arms, sit up straight, and look her directly in the eyes.

  “Do you love him?” she asks. She knows the answer, but she’s making me say it out loud so I will know it too. “

  “Yes,” I whisper. “So much it scares me.”

  “I know, baby. You’re strong, though. I don’t have to tell you that; you’re a survivor. A survivor of the worst kind of experience.”

  She holds my cheek in the palm of her hand. These two people sitting at this table know all too well the hell I’ve been through. They were with me for every miserable step of my recovery. They were my pillars psychologically, physically, and emotionally. All the years of therapy, hiding away from the world, my hang-ups, the side effects and obsessive behavior, they pushed, encouraged, and loved me through it all.

  “We know you’re scared, honey, and not just of the love you have for him. He also told us about the intruder that was in his house. I can’t imagine how you felt watching that video. I’m sure it took you right back to that vulnerable time in your life.”

  I pop up and begin to pace the kitchen.

  “Mom, I don’t think she intended to hurt me. But if not me, t
hen she had to be there for Marcus. He has enemies. He used to be a totally different man before his car accident. I have no idea who could be after him. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t stay there and wait… for something to happen to him, or me. Whatever is going on, I can’t be a part of it.” I throw my arms up and pace back and forth across the kitchen floor.

  “Ok, ok, now, let’s just settle down here a little. You’re scaring Red, for heaven’s sake.” Dad’s always been famous for using nearby animals to make a point. I roll my bloodshot eyes and sit back down at the table.

  “So, what am I supposed to do?”

  “Would you like to know what Marcus thinks is best for you?” Mom asks.

  “He told you what’s best for me? Of course he did. That just figures.” I love him, but what kind of man calls the parents of his girlfriend, whom he has never met, and tells them what’s best for their daughter?

  And what kind of parents listen to that? Only Marcus would have the audacity to do it, and do it with enough charm and charisma to entice my parents. They’re on his side, and I’m feeling betrayed.

  “We aren’t saying we agree with him, honey. It’s just, I don’t know. He was very convincing. I’ve never heard a man speak about a woman with more love and reverence then he did about you.”

  This is my dad talking? He’s my cheerleader on my team. He’s had my back for twenty-seven years and now this?

  “Ok, if he’s so smart and wise, what did he have to say?” I asked.

  Red trots to the table and rests his head on my knee. He looks up at me with big eyes that beg for calm.

  I am upsetting the poor dog, dad’s right. I ruffle his fur and kiss him on the head. “Sorry, Red.”

  “He actually recommended that you stay here for a few days. He thinks that your mother and I are the only people that could understand what you need right now.” Wow… I wasn’t expecting that. I figured he would have said something like, ‘Shove her in a cab, lock her in, and send her back to me!’

  “He has a guard watching the house already; he thought you might feel better knowing the house was being monitored. Not that he believes anyone is after you, the guard is more for your peace of mind than anything really,” Mom says.