Thankful for Love

by Peggy Bird

  “These’ll do, Papa Bear. Anything else I need?”

  He picked up two sets of saddlebags and handed one to her. “For our dinner,” he said.

  “A lot of food for two people, isn’t it?” She seemed to realize as she put the saddlebags on the horse, hers weren’t heavy. “Or maybe not.”

  “You’re carrying the blanket and pillows. In case one of us needs a nap. Or something,” he said as he mounted Hero. He waited for her to mount Paint then tugged on the reins to direct his horse to the road up from the ranch. Quanna followed.

  Soon they were riding between fields of ripe wheat and ripening alfalfa, spotting the occasional sage grouse trying to hide from the hawks hunting them. The only sounds were of the birds and the muted thump of distant wind turbines. They said little, merely rode and enjoyed the experience.

  At the bottom of a small hill, Jack halted his horse in the shade of a cottonwood tree. “I need a slug of water. How about you?” he asked, grabbing the metal canteen hooked around his saddle horn.

  She directed Paint to his side, the head of her horse facing the back of his. “Love some.” She took two long gulps from the canteen he handed her. As she recapped it, she said, “What’s that weird-shaped outcrop with grass all around it in the hill back there? I didn’t notice it when we rode past it. It must be more obvious from this angle. It doesn’t look natural.”

  Jack looked back over his shoulder. “It’s not. My great-grandfather made it. It’s the entrance to what’s left of the cave with a sod front he built the first winter he lived here. We’ve kept it as a reminder of what he went through to claim the land grant.”

  “Someone lived there? Why?”

  “The family story is he had to take possession of the land by a certain date and live on it for some specified period of time. He left St. Louis to stake his claim, but it took him longer to get here than he expected. He arrived as winter was setting in and didn’t have time to build anything proper. So, he made himself a sod hut that fronted on a shelter he dug out of the hill and lived in it. My great-grandmother stayed back in Missouri with my grandfather and his sisters and came out by wagon train the following spring.”

  “How did he survive the winter?”

  Jack grinned. “Some of your ancestors saved his ass. Apparently, the local Indians took pity on him and showed him what to hunt and where to find water. Even gave him food from their stores.” He took the canteen from her and hung it on his saddle horn.

  “If it hadn’t been for your relatives, I wouldn’t be here. I’d probably be someplace in Massachusetts where my great-grandparents started out from. I’m quite sure my great-grandmother would never have come west alone.”

  Quanna was quiet for a moment. “Has anyone from your family told the story to the director of the Tamastslikt museum on the reservation?”

  “Don’t think so. Why?”

  “It’s part of the history of the communities both off and on the rez, a good part, not a bad one.”

  “You tell me who to contact, and I’ll dig out my great-grandmother’s diaries and let them have a look.”

  For another hour, they rode leisurely around some of the five hundred acres of the ranch with what must have appeared to Quanna no purpose or goal in mind. But Jack knew exactly where he was headed—a small oasis in the otherwise sunny plain, a pond surrounded by cottonwoods and alders and fed by a small stream that now, in the height of summer, was a slow trickle.

  “This is where we winter over the cattle,” Jack said. He pointed to a track leading over the nearby hill. “We access it by pickup so we can haul in feed. They have water here. It’s sheltered from the worst of the weather. In the summer, we used to play here as kids.” He dismounted and put his hand out to help Quanna do the same. “When he was older, my brother would bring his girlfriends here to make out. He doesn’t know I know that. I plan to use it someday when his sons do something similar.”

  “You didn’t bring your girlfriends here?”

  “Only ever had one and, no. We made out at her parents’ ranch.”

  Jack removed the saddlebag from his horse, and Quanna grabbed the one on hers. The blanket was spread and the pillows laid out, hats and gloves were shed, and the food arranged. Jack had packed whatever he could find in the refrigerator—cold chicken, sliced tomatoes, coleslaw—and had added potato chips, bread, grapes, and a couple apples from the pantry.

  “The apples are for ...” he began but stopped when he saw her holding out an apple to Paint. He picked up the other one for Hero.

  After they finished eating most of what he’d pulled out of his saddlebag, Quanna stretched out on the blanket and, extending her arms over her head, yawned. “I have to admit, the idea of a nap isn’t such a bad idea.”

  He lay on his side, his head propped up on his bent arm. “Feel free to doze off. I’ll keep watch in case we’re attacked by hostile bison.”

  “I don’t think there are any bison around here, hostile or otherwise.”

  “See how good I am at keeping them away?” he said.

  She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. Then she turned on her side and faced him, getting serious. “Thank you for this afternoon, Jack. It was wonderful.”

  He touched her face with the tips of his fingers. “You deserve any treat I can give you. You’re one amazing woman.” He leaned over and touched his lips to hers. He meant it to be a quick, gentle kiss, but when he began to pull away, she put her arm around his neck, drawing him closer, pressing her mouth to his.

  The heat generated by the touch of their lips and her soft moan sent the connection between them into overdrive in seconds. All his restraint disappeared in a kiss that was hot and intense; it laid claim to her, body and soul. He lowered her onto her back and levered over her, his mouth still on hers, his leg insinuated between her thighs. His tongue was demanding entrance to her mouth, and she gave it to him willingly, tangling her tongue with his in a frantic dance. Breathless, he drew back for a second before returning to nip at her lower lip and then taking her mouth again, her hot, sweet, beautiful mouth. Her small sounds of pleasure fueled his desire to keep going, to take it further, to do what he had wanted to do for weeks—make her his.

  When he slid his hand inside her shirt, feeling hot skin on hot skin, she shivered, arching toward him as he caressed her breast and tweaked her nipple to a hard point. Her response said she was completely in tune with the kiss and where they both knew it was leading.

  Something, maybe the rock he could feel under the blanket close to her, maybe his better judgment, gave him a sudden and unwelcome jolt of mental cold water. He could have rationalized it was time to finally have what he wanted. Could have kept going when it was obvious they both wanted the same thing. But she deserved more than a first time on a blanket on hard, uncomfortable ground.

  Now he was the one who groaned. And it wasn’t from passion. Slowly, he disentangled his leg from hers, sat up, and carefully rearranged her shirt. When he saw the surprise in her eyes, he tried to think of a way to explain what he’d done that made any sense. But his mind was still muddled from the touch of her mouth, the feel of her skin. He wasn’t fast enough to head off her question.

  “What’s wrong, Jack?”

  “I didn’t mean to go so far so fast. I should apologize. I don’t know what happened.”

  Her soft laugh startled him. She sounded amused, not upset.

  “Should I assume you’ll apologize every time you kiss me?”

  “You can tell how out of practice I am. You must think I’m an idiot.” He pulled at a couple pieces of dried grass peeking out from under the blanket, trying to avoid looking at her.

  “First of all, someone who kisses like you do obviously doesn’t need much practice to be good. Second, you’re kinda cute when you apologize.”

  That brought his attention back to her. “Cute? Jesus. I think I’d rather have you tell me I’m an idiot.”

  “I promise I’ll keep your secret. But you are cute when you t
ell me you’re sorry for kissing me.”

  He pulled her up so she was sitting, too. “I’ll let you get away with calling me cute if you’ll let me bumble along and try to explain what happened.” He took her hands in his, raised them to his lips, and kissed them. “I want you. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. I want to make love to you. But not here. You deserve better. I shouldn’t have kissed you, shouldn’t have started anything here. Not when every time I touch you, my brain gets fried and all I can think about is having more of you.”

  This was it. Time to jump off the cliff or walk away.

  “So, here goes. Me maybe making an even bigger fool of myself than I already have. Why don’t we ride back to the house and have dessert, maybe a glass of wine, and then, why don’t you stay with me tonight?”

  • • •

  When she’d answered “I thought you’d never ask” to his question, she’d seen surprise flash across Jack’s face before it was replaced with one of his huge grins. He’d packed up the picnic leftovers, the blanket, and pillows so fast she barely had time to brush her jeans off and put the cap back on.

  But now, riding back to the house, time seemed to have slowed. Which wasn’t good. It gave her too much time to think about what they had started at the picnic site and where it was about to lead. Too much time to get nervous. She’d fantasized about the possibility of this happening from the first month she’d worked at the Richardson Ranch. The only reason she hadn’t done anything to make her fantasy come true was she didn’t want to risk her job. But it was about to happen. Had she made a mistake?

  No, the attraction this man held for her was powerful. Just kissing him turned her into something soft, hot, and needy. Then why was she nervous? A chorus of nasty little voices in her head answered—if it didn’t work out, she could lose her job. She could fail her family, have to delay finishing school yet again. One particularly annoying voice insisted she could never satisfy a man like him, a man who was older, with a long and happy marriage behind him. The way he kissed was proof of just what he’d expect.

  All the voices in her head had gone hoarse from yelling at her by the time they reached the road to the house. She was grateful to have something to do when they got to the barn so she could ignore them. She immediately unsaddled Paint and began to wipe him down with a towel and curry comb.

  “We’ll take care of the horses later. I have other things in mind for now,” Jack said. He took the towel and comb from her hands and drew her close. “Something like this.” He lowered his head and brushed his mouth across hers and pressed her soft body against the hard planes of his muscular one. Being kissed and touched by him raised the temperature of her body more than the sun had. The heat burned out the noises in her head long enough for her to enjoy being expertly kissed.

  He used the tip of his tongue to part her lips then slowly, languidly made love to her mouth. At the same time, his hands traveled her soft curves, generating heat with each inch he covered. First her waist, then her hips, snugging her against his erection. She was dizzy with wanting him.

  He broke from the kiss. “Shouldn’t we take this inside?” His voice was husky and low, his eyes dark with desire.

  She choked on her answer. She was beginning to feel like a ping-pong ball, one minute melting with passion, the next listening to the voices in her head telling her to be cautious. She took a step back and picked up the towel again. “We should get Hero and Paint settled. It won’t take long.”

  “I guess I’m happy you care about the horses, but somehow my gratitude level is a bit low at the moment.” He picked up another towel and, with a half smile, went to wipe down his horse.

  Once the horses were cooled down, watered, fed, and stabled, she couldn’t avoid the inevitable. He took her hand as they left the barn, but when they got into the house, she dropped his hand and moved to put the breakfast island between them. He cocked his head and looked as if he had a question for her, but when he spoke, it wasn’t the one she expected. “How ’bout that dessert or a glass of wine?”

  “No, thanks.” She shook her head. “I’m so sweaty and horsey smelling, I’m not sure I’m a fit eating or drinking companion.”

  “Well, you know where the shower is and how to find towels. Be my guest.”

  His immediate response surprised her. “Okay. If it’s all right with you, I will take a shower.”

  She couldn’t see his face as he grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and twisted off the cap. He took a swig without turning around. “Showering sounds good, now that I think about it.”

  “I’ll leave enough hot water for you, I promise.”

  “Or ...” He hesitated for a moment, then faced her. “I could join you. The shower’s big enough for two.”

  There was such hunger in his eyes. Her desire for him flared as she saw how much he wanted her. And she surely wanted him. She shut down the voices in her head. If he was willing to take a chance, so was she. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll lock up down here and join you in a few minutes.” His smile melted the last of her doubts and kept her feeling warm as she ran up the stairs.

  • • •

  Through the steamed up glass walls of the oversized shower enclosure, he could see her silhouette. She appeared to be soaping herself up. He watched for a few moments, his fingers clenching and unclenching, wanting his to be the hands gliding over her body. Needing to touch her.

  He slid the door open. She gasped, as if startled by his appearance, and stood still, hands on her breasts, soap dripping down her stomach until the suds were lost in a forest of dark hair at the junction of her thighs. His breath quickened and his cock hardened.

  He swept his gaze up and down her body again and groaned as he saw water rinse away the soapsuds so every inch of her coppery brown skin was on display, wet and glistening. “My God. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  She turned her back to him before saying, “If you’ve changed your mind about my staying ...”

  Hands on her shoulders, he gently moved her so she faced him again. Her eyes were shiny, and a crease had appeared between them. “Hell, no, I haven’t changed my mind. I meant it was a bad idea to join you in the shower. If it was stupid to roll around with you on a blanket fully clothed, being naked with you right now might be an even worse idea. All I can think of is how easy it would be to pick you up, press you against the wall, and take you.” He pulled her arms up so they were around his neck and kissed her forehead.

  She sniffed, and a small, tremulous smile tried to appear. “I’m getting your shirt wet.”

  “Then I guess I better take it off.” He stepped back, and stripped off his shirt, jeans, and boxer briefs in seconds before walking into the shower.

  “I thought you said it was a bad idea.”

  He took the washcloth she was holding and, drawing her back against his chest, began to caress her breasts and belly with it. “I’m seriously reconsidering that statement.”

  As he continued to massage her breasts, he nuzzled her neck. Her back arched; her nipples tightened. “Finished reconsidering. I was definitely wrong. This is a very good idea.” His erection pressed into her, causing her to moan.

  He nipped his way from her shoulder to her ear. “I knew you were damn beautiful,” he whispered. “But my imagination didn’t do you justice. Your skin is so soft and smooth. You taste so good.”

  He dropped the washcloth, and holding her against him with one arm, he slipped the other one over her stomach and down to her sex. She canted her hips forward to give him access as he massaged gently, all the while kissing her neck, her shoulder, her ear.

  From the pace of her breathing and the beating of her heart—which was keeping time with his—she was as aroused as he was. He knew if they didn’t stop, their first time would be quick, soon, and very, very wet.

  “We need to get out of here.” Reaching around her, he turned off the water, then opened the door and stepped out. He offered his
hand to her so she could follow.

  When they were both wrapped in towels, he scooped her up into his arms and started toward the bedroom.

  She nestled into him, and he could feel her smile against his neck. “Showing off?”

  “Nope. This is the fastest way to get you to my bed.”

  Chapter 12

  In the shower, Jack had been sure she’d been as ready for this as he was, but when they got to his bed and he unwrapped her from her towel, the desire in her eyes had dimmed. She seemed nervous, scared even.

  “Are you okay? You look ... I don’t know ... uneasy, maybe.”

  She dropped onto the bed, avoiding his eyes. “No, I’m fine.” She shook her head. “Okay, maybe a little nervous. It’s been a while for me since ... you know.”

  He took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up. “Me, too. So we’ll take it nice and easy. Make sure we’re both happy with what we’re doing.”

  “Okay.” She looked less nervous, but doubt was still apparent on her face.

  “First thing to make me happy is you have to scoot over. You’re on my side of the bed, and I’m a creature of habit.”

  She scooted. And laughed.

  He dropped the towel from around his hips and saw the approving look in her eyes as her gaze swept up and down his body. It certainly helped his confidence that she seemed to appreciate what she saw.

  Settling on his side facing her, he ran his hand over the curves he’d wanted to touch for weeks, hoping he was reassuring her, not reminding her of how he gentled Hero when the horse got frisky. When she still seemed tense, he made another suggestion. “There’s another thing that would make me happy. Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

  “What’s that?” The uneasiness was still there in her voice.

  He reached behind her and moved her braid over her shoulder. “I want to see if your hair feels as silky as it looks. Can I undo this?”