by Lexi Post
When he remembered the look on Kat’s face as she sucked him into her mouth his heart raced and his blood pounded in his ears. He cupped his balls with his other hand, unable to stop stroking himself. Having Kat do the same made him want her even more. He wanted to pleasure her like she’d never been pleasured. He must have some experience that she didn’t, especially after all the women he’d slept with. Had she done it in a shower like now?
He caught his breath as his eyes closed and he imagined her with him. Her soapy breasts pressed on either side of his cock as he slid up and down. Her, holding them against him, making the suction tighter while she bit on her lower lip, anxious to feel him inside her.
He pumped his hand faster even as he saw himself pulling from her and turning her against the glass wall of his shower, pressing her small body to it as he entered her from behind. Moving his hand around her to play with her clit even as he slid in and out of her pussy. Her breasts pressed against the glass, moving as he rocked her, clear in the mirror across from the shower.
“Arrr.” Braeden tensed as his climax sprinted through him and he pumped his cum onto the shower walls. Instead of relief, he felt empty. Though he’d toyed with finding a quick fuck, he didn’t. It would satisfy him no more than a shower and a hand job.
Washing the rest of his body, he quickly rinsed off and stepped out. He only had one choice. He had to find Kat.
Throwing the towel over the shower door and grabbing a clean one from the towel warmer, he grabbed the comb he’d taken from Kat’s room and strode into his home office. “Low lights.” As the room’s lighting glowed, he passed his work desk with its multiple monitors and moved to a smaller wooden desk where he flicked on his personal laptop and set the towel on his chair.
It was time to let technology do its magic. He sat and opened his email as he fingered Kat’s comb. Everything about it was practical like her—simple, functional and beautiful. He should never have taken it. He’d regretted his impulse, but tonight it soothed him. It made her feel closer, within reach.
Stephen’s message stood out from the other family member emails by its subject line “Headless Horseman?” The message was sent at 11:53 p.m. What the hell was Stephen doing up so late? He was usually asleep by nine. Braeden glanced at the electronic calendar on his desk. Friday night. Stephen and Marilyn had instituted date night after his heart surgery. He smiled. Stephen sounded a lot better these days. He’d recovered well and was more relaxed about life. As for the Headless Horseman, that could wait. It was only the middle of May. He didn’t want to disappoint his brother so early by declining the offer.
Now to find Kat. He clicked his browser open. How many Katrina Van Tassels could there be in the United States? It shouldn’t take long to narrow it down. Setting the comb next to the computer, he typed in the name and waited.
Over 120,000 sites? This could be harder than he expected. Reading the summary of the first site, he quickly dismissed it. He wasn’t looking for a fictional character from a Washington Irving story. Skimming the rest on the list, he found them all to be the same. Katrina Van Tassel was a character in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, in which there was a headless horseman.
“Damn!” Braeden slammed his hand down on his desk. He should have known. She insisted on authenticity. The question was, how far did she go? Did she simply call herself Katrina Van Tassel or did she legally change her name? On one hand, he hoped she used a fake name, as that would make her much more psychologically appealing, but unfortunately also impossible to find.
Not willing to give up, he searched the white pages and found three Katrina Vantassels. He would call all of them in the morning, or rather later in the morning. And if none of them were his Kat?
He returned his focus to the internet. Then he would find a private investigator.
* * * * *
Oldtime—Wednesday
Katrina carried the ham bone in a cloth as she made her way back toward the village center. She would drop it off at Ludo’s. His father, Hans, had an old dog who was partial to bones. Thankfully, Janna had told her how poorly Dame Van Brunt was feeling and she’d brought the rest of her ham to the poor woman.
Though darkness edged the road, the next farm was Ludo’s. The bone was a bit dried now, but she doubted the dog would care. She was glad she’d rushed to Dame Van Brunt’s. The older woman was too weak to make herself dinner. The ham Kat brought would keep her for a few days, but she would visit again tomorrow with fresh eggs as well. It looked as if she’d have to ask her mom for help with the inn. She hated to take her away from the farm but—
Someone watched her. She stopped and looked around. There was no one and nothing she could see. Shrugging, she started forward, but caught movement to her right, in the woods. Not sure if it was human, animal or supernatural, she increased her pace to Ludo’s. Just as she heard the dog bark, a figure in black raced by her on horseback, knocking her to the ground.
By the time she looked up, the horse had disappeared into the wood across the lane. She shivered. The Headless Horseman was an old story Brom had used to scare Ichabod out of Sleepy Hollow, but the decapitated figure had never actually existed. So what was that?
Braeden? His name came to her mind against her wishes. Despite her attempts to forget him, he kept confusing her heart, whether she did chores or walked through the village square. Was it her fate to be tortured by a descendant of the man she loved? She sat up and brushed the dirt from her hands. It wasn’t that she loved Braeden. It was that she had loved Brom.
Ludo’s dog trotted over to her and tried to lick her face. “No, boy. There’s a bone around here somewhere for you.” She searched for it in the fading light, but it might have become buried by the leaves on the ground when she fell. Standing up, she pointed the dog in the direction she dropped it. In no time the dog had it in his mouth, his tail held high as he trotted back home. She waved at Hans Van Ripper, who stood in his doorway, and the old man nodded before turning back inside.
Not dallying to brush off her skirts, she strode past the farm and into the village center. The lanterns in the pub next to her inn guided her footsteps. Everyone was already inside for dinner. She’d eaten with Dame Van Brunt at her insistence, which meant she might have time to make bread before heading to bed.
The cloaked figure that knocked her down bothered her more than she cared to admit. It had to be one of the villagers, which meant someone had been very rude. She had a suspicion it was one of the—
“Katrina, what are you doing out here so late?”
She jumped at the sound of Jurgen’s voice so close to her. “Oh my heart, Jurgen, you fairly scared the life from me.”
“I’m sorry. I called you when you walked by my shop, but you didn’t respond.”
“Oh, I guess I owe you an apology. I was thinking.” She shrugged, surprised she hadn’t heard him.
“About him?”
Did Jurgen know who the horseman was that ran her down? “Who?”
“That man who looks like Brom.”
She couldn’t see Jurgen’s face clearly, but his tone made it clear he wasn’t happy. “No, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t thinking about him. And he doesn’t look like Brom. He just has the same build. Or I should say had the same build. He won’t be back here.”
Jurgen put his hand on her arm. “He’s not Brom. He doesn’t love you. You can’t make him into Brom.”
“What? I’m not doing that. He is Braeden and Brom was Brom. They aren’t alike in looks or personality, so don’t worry about me. Besides, as I told you, he won’t be returning.”
“Are you sure?”
She pulled her arm from his grasp and put her hands on her hips, her patience waning. “Jurgen, I think I know my own mind and my own heart. My heart is with Brom and my mind is bent on making bread before bed. A pleasant night to you.”
She stalked the rest of the way to her inn, too irritated with Jurgen for suggesting she couldn’t keep the two men separate. Of course she could tel
l the difference between Brom, the man she loved, the man she was supposed to wed, and Braeden, a Newtimer who made her feel alive, and made her yearn for what she had even more.
She opened the door to the inn and lit a lantern, placing it on the registry counter. Yes, at first she thought Braeden was Brom from the back, but one look into his warm brown eyes and she’d seen a difference, not just in color, but in soul.
Brom was wild, full of life, the center of every crowd. People were drawn to him. Braeden was reserved, quiet, uncomfortable around others.
She walked into the kitchen and lit another lantern. She gathered the flour and yeast, mixing them with water until she had a nice dough. Brom made love like he lived life, wildly, fast, overpowering, but satisfying. It was who he was, and he wouldn’t have changed simply because he had a family. She used to wonder what his wife had been like, but she didn’t anymore.
Braeden made love slowly, teasingly. He loved how she had licked him. She’d been so pleased she could give him pleasure, but he was gone now. She sighed as she set the dough to rise. Braeden had probably found another woman to satisfy him by now.
Her hand gripped the counter edge. She didn’t want to give him up. It was wrong, but she didn’t want him to be happy in Newtime. She wanted him with her. Her stomach clenched, a painful yearning far beyond her ability to satisfy. She should remember Brom and their love. That was what had sustained her since he’d disappeared. She’d given him her heart.
And he’d married, had children and lived a full life while she existed in Oldtime, heartbroken with their unfulfilled dreams.
But his dreams were fulfilled.
She didn’t have a choice. She could only choose among the villagers and she didn’t love any of them that way. She loved Brae—Brom. She loved Brom.
She sat down heavily in one of the chairs. Was that what Jurgen meant? Was she mixing her feelings for Brom with Braeden?
She shook her head, but her heart wasn’t so sure.
* * * * *
Newtime—October/Oldtime—Friday
Braeden was glad he’d brought the truck this time. The dirt road to the Sleepy Hollow Village was covered in ruts and his suspension handled it well. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but he was determined to discover how the village could set up so quickly. He’d driven into the area yesterday evening and there was nothing, so he stayed in Tarrytown, lucky to get a room for one night before the festival started.
Coming around the wooded corner, he slowed the car.
It couldn’t be.
The stable came into view and then the rest of the village. He parked across the road from the stable and exited his vehicle. “What the fuck?” He slammed the door hard.
He’d searched half a year for his supposed Katrina Van Tassel, hired the best private investigators and driven to Sleepy Hollow multiple times to try to find clues. His before and after pictures in his cell phone were the only evidence that kept the detectives from having him committed, but even they decided that he must have mixed up the towns and quit.
Yet here it was in all its glory. Sure, people were hanging signs and displaying product, but the entire village was suddenly present. And if it was here, that meant Kat was here.
With a purpose bolstered by many frustrated nights, Braeden stalked toward the Sleepy Hollow Inn. Windows upstairs were open, but the front door remained closed. He opened the door with more force than needed, announcing his presence as it banged against the wall. No one was within sight, so he pummeled the bell.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Kat’s voice sounded from upstairs. He strode down the hall to where the stairs ended just as she stepped off the last step.
“Braeden!”
He took in her breathless greeting, shining blue eyes, and all-over-disheveled appearance and pulled her into his arms. He stared for one second before he kissed her.
She melted against him as he plundered her mouth, the teasing scent of chocolate floating into his brain while her breasts pressed against his chest, awakening his sore cock.
It took him a good few seconds to notice she had started to break away. He let her go.
She stepped back and up one step, her hands finding her hips. “What are you doing here?”
His frustration flooded back and he scowled. “What am I doing here? I’m looking for you. Just like I’ve been doing for the last six months!” At his raised voice, her eyes widened and he gripped his hands into fists to control his anger. “I wanted to see you again. Do you have any idea how it felt to have you disappear and then to find you here as if you hadn’t been in hiding all this time?”
Kat’s mouth opened and formed a small O before she crossed her arms over her stomach.
“I couldn’t find Katrina Van Tassel anywhere.” He ran his hand through his hair at her silence. “I assume that’s a fake name for this festival. I want to know your real name.”
She looked at him like a cat eyed a bowl of cream just out of reach. Wanting and calculation flitted across her features. “You said you wouldn’t be coming back.”
Her softly spoken words stopped his anger in its tracks. Had he said that? He racked his brain for the conversation. Having played over every discussion they had had, it didn’t take long to remember. “No, you said I wouldn’t be back because Stephen would be the Headless Horseman. I only said I hoped he would be because that meant he had regained his health.”
Kat’s face fell. “Does this mean Stephen is still not well or…”
At the tears forming in her eyes, he cursed himself. “No. Not at all. Stephen is as healthy as a horse. He decided he wanted to stay with his family this year and give me another chance to play the Headless Horseman since I didn’t do such a great job last time.” He gave her a crooked smile, hoping to distract her.
“You were a wonderful Headless Horseman. Everyone said so.”
“No, I lost my pumpkin head that night. Did anyone find it?”
Her brows furrowed, but her arms had at last relaxed and fallen to her sides. “No one said they found it. I didn’t even know you lost it.”
She bit at her lower lip and Braeden wanted to kiss her all over again. He missed her. What was it about this small feisty woman that made him feel alive…normal? Whatever it was, he wanted to find out, along with some other mysteries associated with the little village.
“So you don’t have your pumpkin head? We will have to make one because it is important you have it, otherwise the villagers will get nervous.” She shivered with her statement.
Braeden stepped closer to her. She was a bit taller standing on the step, but still shorter than him. He cupped her cheek. “I want you.”
Her intake of breath made him grin. He leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips.
“Katrina! Katrina, where are you?”
“Oh no. That’s Mama.”
Braeden dropped his hand. “Your mother?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, my mother. Don’t you have a mother?” She pushed her way by him. “I’m back here, Mama.”
Her mother? Of course she had one, but meeting a parent wasn’t something he’d expected. He looked down the hall toward Kat’s room. Was there another exit?
Kat’s chuckle interrupted his escape plan. “Are you afraid to meet my mother?”
He turned back to face her and found her smirking. “Is that a challenge?”
She shrugged, turned her back on him and sashayed up the hall.
Her mother. His back stiffened. He’d never met a woman’s mother. Of course, meeting Kat’s mom could provide him the opportunity to discover more about Kat, such as where she lived when not at the festival. Maybe he could charm Mrs. Van Tassel into revealing a fact or two. He strode down the hall, the anticipation of success speeding him along.
* * * * *
“Katrina, I brought some blueberry muffins I made this morning. I thought that would help you for tomorrow’s breakfast.”
“Mama, that’s a wonderful idea. Thank you.” Sh
e took the plate and put it in an upper cupboard where Max wouldn’t think to look. She glanced at the kitchen door. Would Braeden dare meet her mama or would he hide? Brom had been full of charm and energy the first time he’d met her mother.
“Dame Van Brunt is finished with the ham you brought, so I started a chicken stew. Maybe you could send Max by to bring it to her.”
Kat refocused on her mother, listening for the creak of a floorboard in the next room. “I will.”
“So how can I help?” Her mama took an apron from the pegs by the back door. “I have to say it is nice to come to town during festival for a change. Sometimes I think your papa loves that farm more than me.”
The twinkle in her mother’s eyes belied her words and Kat smiled. “I doubt that, but won’t he be pleased with whatever you decide to buy?” She winked to support her mother’s brief holiday from the farm.
“Don’t encourage me, young lady. Now, tell me where you want me to start.”
“I still need—”
The creak in the floor warned her just before the kitchen door swung open.
“Good morning, ladies.”
She tried to look at Braeden as her mother would and saw a tall, dark-haired, handsome man in a short-sleeved shirt with bulging muscles, a narrow waist and dark blue jeans, but when she glanced at her mother, the woman was in pure shock.
“Braeden, I’d like you to meet my mother, Dame Van Tassel.”
Braeden bowed and reached out his hand.
Her mama hesitated before putting hers in his. He brought it to his lips in true European style. Now where did he learn that?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m not surprised by your beauty as it shines also in your daughter.”
Her mama’s full cheeks turned as pink as wild roses even as she lowered her lashes. Her blonde hair, now sprinkled with white, made the change in her pale face more striking.
Kat could suddenly imagine what her papa had seen when he’d met her mother. She’d never thought about it before, but her mama was a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart.
