by Dahlia West
“Should’ve had a V8,” Sawyer drawled.
“I will fucking punch you,” Seth growled, feeling a dull throb just behind his eyes as he spoke.
Sawyer wasn’t cowed in the least. He only offered Seth a lopsided grin. “Ooooh,” he teased. “The gloves are coming off. Speaking of which…” He handed Seth the new leather pair.
Seth took them and heaved himself off the door, having lost his taste for lazing about. He stalked across the driveway toward his truck.
“Hey, about those gloves…they’re nice!” Sawyer called after him. “Are they new? Where do you find the time? Did you get me anything?”
Seth took them off, jammed them into his pockets, and gave Sawyer the finger without looking back. He mounted the steps to the Big House for a fresh shirt and clean jeans.
When he finally got to the Archer place, he found Rowan in the barn, wearing his jacket, as usual, and wrestling one of the feed bags into the trough. He fell into work beside her without so much as a greeting. If he managed to get all the work done before sundown, it’d be a miracle if he could make it as far as the truck and sack out for a nap.
“Hey,” she said brightly, and though Seth liked to see her smile, he couldn’t muster the energy to return the sentiment.
“Hey,” he muttered as he poured out the contents of the bag.
She frowned but didn’t ask him any questions. She just picked up the next bag and stripped off the top.
When the sheep were ready to bed down for the night, Rowan flipped the switch on one of the large, ceramic heaters, but nothing happened. She frowned at it, flipped it off, then back on, then pulled at the cord. “What now?” she muttered.
Seth walked over and checked the wiring at the base and found nothing that had been chewed or damaged. He sighed. “Might be the starter. It’s late. I can’t really get a good look at it today. I can stop by tomorrow.” He nodded to the other heater. “That one still works. You’ll be okay for tonight.”
“The starter? Are you sure that’s it?”
“Might be,” he repeated.
She chewed nervously at her bottom lip. “Do you think you can really fix it?”
“Maybe,” he grumbled.
“But—”
“I don’t know, Rowan. I’m tired!” he snapped, then winced because he should not have spoken to her that way. Not at all.
Instead of being offended, she gave him a sympathetic look, which made him feel worse. “Well, of course you’re tired!” she replied. “How many jobs do you have, Seth? How many ranches do you actually work? Two, at least! And you’re probably cold.”
Seth watched her unbutton the jacket and attempt to slide it down her arms.
“You’re cold,” she told him. “And I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us. And maybe none of this matters any damn way. I don’t even know why you’re here. I’m sure we can manage—”
She was rambling, exhausted. So was he. But the sight of her peeling off the jacket ignited a fire in him. Seth stood up and charged toward Rowan. She gasped, eyes wide, as he gripped her around the waist, lifted her and shoved her into the wall. “Do. Not. Take off. My jacket.” His lips were just inches from her own.
Seth pushed himself into her, notching his crotch into hers, pinning her up against the barn wall. “You can’t figure out why I’m here, Rowan?” he whispered. “Really? Because you seem like a smart woman. Seems to me like you could put it together.”
Rowan stared at him, unblinking, unmoving, until she finally wrapped her legs around him and pulled his mouth down on hers.
The kiss was searing, penetrating. Rowan actually dove in first, parting his lips with her tongue. She seemed as hungry for him as he was for her. She gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, crushing him against her. The delicious little noises she made were spurring on a rock-hard erection behind his fly.
Not satisfied with letting her take the lead, Seth gripped her ass with his hands, grinding against her, and plundered her hot mouth with his tongue. He dipped in and out between her lips in a frantic, heady rhythm, showing her what he would do to her pussy if they were naked and alone.
For a moment, he forgot that they weren’t until they were interrupted.
“Rowan?” came a voice from outside.
Emma was calling, but Seth wasn’t about to let Rowan go. His body was pressed up against hers, aching, throbbing. Let her leave…if she wanted. He never would.
“Yes?” Rowan called out, voice hoarse. Her legs unwound from his hips, sadly, and she put her feet firmly back on the ground.
Reluctantly, Seth moved back enough to let her go, but she had to rub her entire body against him to do it. He closed his eyes and stopped himself from grabbing her as her breasts skimmed along his chest.
He waited a few minutes then followed her out. He found her just outside the barn door. Emma was already walking back toward the house. He stopped next to her and waited, but she didn’t say anything.
A long, heavy silence passed until Seth finally said, “I’m not a better version of Court. I’m my own man, Rowan.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Seth watched the pained look cross her face. God, it was so complicated, with Willow, with Court. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her away, just the three of them, a tiny unit, and shut the world out as they left. He knew it was hard for her, too, and he’d been trying like hell not to push, but damn, he wanted her.
Whatever Rowan felt, she slipped off his jacket and handed it to him. “I don’t want you to be cold, Seth.”
Ahead of them, Willow shrieked and chased Kinka around the yard. Emma eyed them in furtive glances, so Seth took the jacket and laid it over his arm.
“I can fix the heater tomorrow,” he promised.
Rowan slid her hand into his, surprising him. She squeezed it briefly then let go. “Seth…” she said without looking at him. His name on her lips, though, meant more than anything else. She was afraid, he could see that, and he was damn sorry for it. Court had knocked her heart around and then some, and Seth knew one kiss, scorching as it had been, wasn’t going to thaw her out completely.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated.
He waited, and then finally she took a deep breath and nodded.
Seth reluctantly unlocked their fingers and headed toward his truck.
Chapter Eighteen
‡
Rowan stood watching Seth leave and resisted the urge to touch her lips—or any other part of herself. It had been a while since she’d been kissed and never, ever quite like that. It had been thrilling and satisfying to know he wanted her in the same way she’d been wanting him.
Seth had masterfully conquered her mouth while showing her how he’d lay claim to other parts of her.
Tomorrow.
Oh God. Never before had one word held so much meaning for her. It was both a promise and a warning, she was sure of it. Because Seth Barlow was a man of his word, and apparently his tongue was not forked but coated in pure silver. He had tasted so sweet, yet so forbidden.
He didn’t care, though.
Tomorrow.
It had rolled so easily off that talented tongue, and Rowan had to take a deep, steadying breath to keep herself upright. So much had gone wrong in her life, so much was beyond her control, but this…Seth…was almost too much to hope for. Rowan had all but given up on love in her life, and even, at this point, great sex, but that kiss…that kiss had revived feelings inside her that she’d have sworn were as dead as the winter landscape that surrounded them.
But spring was coming, and with it new life and new hope, and Seth had promised her more.
She closed the barn door and headed back up to the house, where inside, Emma had put on a pot of spaghetti and Willow was busy coloring at the kitchen table. Despite the little girl’s proximity, Emma shot Rowan a reproachful look.
Rowan’s eyes darted to her daughter, who was oblivious to everything but the picture she was working on. “Don’t,” R
owan told her older sister. “Just don’t.”
“He’s sure over here a lot,” replied Emma, ignoring the plea.
“He’s helping,” Rowan snapped.
“Yeah? What are we paying him?”
Rowan’s mouth dropped open. “You think…you think I would do that?” she hissed. “Or that Seth would?”
“I think he’s either using you, like his asshole brother, and going to end up ruining your life, or he’s not using you…and he’s going to end up ruining your life.”
“Emma—”
“Didn’t you learn the first time, Rowan? I mean, all these years, all this heartache, and you didn’t learn anything?”
“Seth isn’t like that,” Rowan whispered. “He’s not…” She couldn’t say the name out loud, for Willow’s sake.
“How do you know?” Emma demanded.
Rowan stared at her.
“You haven’t known him that long. In fact, you don’t know him at all.”
Rowan shook her head as she thought about Seth’s tired yet kind eyes, how hard he’d worked to help them out. She couldn’t believe he was doing all that just to get her in bed. “He would never do that,” she declared.
“Mama?”
Rowan groaned and looked at Willow.
“Seth would never do what?”
“Oh, honey, we’re just talking about ranch work, that’s all. Seth is our very, very good friend.”
Emma gave Rowan a sharp look. “Yes, he is, Willow. He’s our friend.”
Rowan moved to the living room, out of ear shot of Willow, as Emma as followed. “Stay out of it,” Rowan warned.
“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Emma told her. “Do you want to go through this again? Do you want another illegitimate child?” she whispered.
“Screw you, Emma!”
“Think about it, Rowan. Two kids, by two different Barlows. You know what people will say. They’ll wonder, out loud, if you’re going to go through all five brothers. The Barlow Broodmare, that’s what they’re going to call you.”
Rowan had never wanted to slap her sister so badly in her life, and it took all her willpower to keep her hands at her sides.
Emma must’ve realized it, must’ve understood that she’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” she told Rowan. “It’s just…” She sighed. “It was so hard for you, Rowan. So hard. Those first two years, I…well, to be honest I didn’t think you were going to make it. Between diapers and nursing school….these men, Rowan, these Barlow brothers…”
Rowan shook her head. “They’re not all like Court,” she insisted.
Emma gave her a hard look. “Can you really take that chance? Can you really? With Willow? I mean, it’s bad enough she might lose Court if he can’t grow the hell up. Do you really want to have to make it twice as hard? Explain why Seth suddenly isn’t around either?”
Rowan pressed her still slightly swollen lips together. She could still taste Seth on her tongue. It was a kiss, one kiss. It had felt like everything, but might it have been nothing? She was angry with her sister for shattering the one good thing she had in her life right now, for dousing the one ray of hope she’d had in a very, very long time. “You don’t know him,” she snapped.
Emma opened her mouth, but Rowan held up her hand. Not to hit her, though God knew she wanted to.
“Don’t tell me I don’t know him either. I do. I do know him. And I don’t know how it’s going to work—”
“Well, maybe you should give that some thought, Rowan,” Emma replied sharply. “Maybe you should think about it long and hard, before you go spreading your legs for something long and hard.”
“Get out,” Rowan growled and pointed toward the door.
“This is my house, too.”
“It was your house. You live in town now,” Rowan pointed out.
“So it’s yours again now? You’re going to move here? And fall in love with Seth? And have his babies, and Court’s not going to care one bit, and no one in town will have a bad word to say about it?”
Rowan felt heat creep over her face. Without wanting to admit it, even to herself, her thoughts had been straying down that path.
Emma picked up her jacket and shrugged it on. “You were naive once, Rowan. And it was understandable, because you were just a kid. But you’re a grown woman now. With a daughter. And there won’t be any excuse this time. None at all. You’ll just be a damn fool.”
Rowan followed Emma outside, if only to assure herself that her sister was gone for a while. Watching her drive away, she tried not to think about it, tried not to second guess what had happened in the barn. She was due for something—something—good in her life, damn it! And Emma be damned, Rowan was going to grab on to any little bit of happiness that came her way, no matter what anyone else thought about it.
She put a plate of leftovers in front of Willow and then went outside to stand on the porch to watch the sun sink down over the horizon and couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow was all she had. She stayed for a long time, could stay, for hours, maybe days. But she finally turned away, hand on the doorknob, when suddenly the dogs exploded in a cacophony of barking and snarling. Rowan let go of the knob and dashed down the porch steps, toward the barn.
She rounded the corner, in the direction of the noise, and stopped short, all the breath leaving her lungs in a whoosh. Kinka, Jory, and Kono had two wolves surrounded, wolves who were diving in, snapping and retreating, trying to find a way past the dogs and closer to the barn, where the sheep were bleating nervously. Their terrified sounds seemed to only make the wolves more ferocious, more determined to get past the dogs.
Rowan sped back toward the house, legs pumping furiously. Behind her the sounds of fighting grew louder, more frantic. She burst through the front door and slammed it behind her, rattling it on its hinges.
“Mama?”
“You stay here!” Rowan cried, throwing the closet door wide. “You stay inside! Right here! Don’t open the door!”
“What’s happening?!”
“Wolves, baby!” Rowan replied, snatching the Winchester off the top shelf and running back toward the door. “Do not come outside!”
“Kinka!” Willow wailed.
“Do not come outside!”
Rowan threw the door wide and slammed it shut once more, creating a barrier between her daughter and the danger beyond. She flew down the steps again and back toward the barn. When she made it across the yard, the dogs were still there, still fighting. Jory and Kono had one pinned to the ground. Kinka and the second wolf were circling each other, jaws dripping, hackles raised.
Rowan was debating whether or not to move closer to the fray, to see if she could line up a good shot, when she caught shadowy movement out of the corner of her eye.
She spun and saw the lanky form of a third wolf moving between the barn and the hay shed. It was thin, winter-starved, and even in the dim twilight, its eyes shone brightly, hunger mad.
And it was moving toward her.
Rowan brought the rifle up, aimed down the sight, and squeezed off a round. But the distance was too great, and the wolf was moving too fast. The shot missed and she heard the metallic ping as it ricocheted harmlessly off the corrugated metal wall of the shed.
She cursed and gripped the lever, pumping another round into the barrel.
The wolf was moving faster now, undeterred by the danger all around it.
Rowan raised the rifle again, let off another round…and missed again.
The wolf sidestepped, though, and seemed to rethink the wisdom of continuing its pursuit.
For one hopeful moment, Rowan thought he’d move off, join the fight with his pack, and abandon her altogether. She loaded another round and let it off, missing again, but hoping to dissuade him from coming closer.
But instead, he broke into a dead run, his powerful legs churning up the ground between them as he dashed straight toward her.
Off to the right, Rowan heard Willow, banging frantically on the windowpa
ne. The child’s muffled screams tore at Rowan, who couldn’t drag her eyes away from the wolf as it charged her.
“It’ll be okay, baby,” Rowan whispered, but she thought maybe it was another one of her little white lies.
Rowan couldn’t make it to the house, or the barn, or even the truck. She couldn’t hope to outrun this beast who now had her in his sights. Despite the hammering of her heart and the roar of blood in her ears, Rowan dropped to one knee. She pumped another round into the .30-.30’s barrel and raised the weapon.
It was too far.
The wolf was still a good seventy-five yards away, and Rowan couldn’t risk missing with the last round in her carbine. She forced herself to wait, blinking back tears welling in her eyes. As the wolf closed in fifty yards, forty, Rowan had to fight every instinct that was telling her to drop the rifle and run.
With a loud explosion of yips and snarls, she saw a blur of white fur and realized Kinka had broken off from the main fight and was trying to get to her.
Desperation caused her to falter, to look to the dog while praying he’d make it. But Kinka was hurt, apparently, and limping as he tried to get up to full speed. Rowan’s heart sank as she realized the dog wouldn’t make it. She turned back to the wolf.
Thirty yards.
Her face and throat were one hell of a target, kneeling as she was, right in line with his muzzle. The wolf’s gleaming fangs would shred her with ease. But it was the best angle for a body shot, and Rowan’s legs were about to give out anyway, terrified as she was.
Twenty yards.
Behind her there was a rush of sound, and the driveway was suddenly flooded with headlights and screeching tires. Rowan couldn’t risk looking away again. More help had come, but like Kinka, it was too late. Rowan’s finger rested on the trigger as she tried to breathe.
A door opened. Someone shouted.
“Rowan!”
It was Seth, and Rowan let out one sob at the sound of his voice. Oh God, how she needed him now, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the wolf bearing down on her. Kinka had picked up some speed—he was in her line of sight now, but the wolf had gained too much ground.
