by Em Petrova
“So he has his money but no horse,” she whispered.
Dickson nodded. “I’m afraid so. I need to pay King a call to apologize, but I hardly know what to say.”
“That’s a man thing,” she blurted.
She was met by Dickson’s quizzical look.
Her filter was shut off from the wine. “King fucked up and he hasn’t made a single attempt to apologize to me. The idiot doesn’t know that—” She cut off, realizing suddenly she’d said too much.
Dickson nodded. “We are stupid with matters like this, that’s true. I’m sure King knows how wrong he’s been.”
She picked up her glass again and sipped. The alcohol added to the rest swirling around in her system and gave her the fog she needed to keep from breaking down. She’d be acting that scene later this afternoon with a hangover, but at this point, she didn’t care.
“If King apologized to you for what happened, would you resume your affair with him?”
The other three people who’d come to the winery with them overheard, leaning in to catch Bellarose’s response.
Oh who gave a damn at this point? Everybody knew she’d been struggling to function because of her broken heart. Why not shout it out, especially when they were too far gone on wine to repeat it? Except Gabriel, who’d driven them.
“I love him,” she stated, burrowing her nose in the glass. She swallowed the rest of it. “If he came back for me, I’d see if we could work things out.”
She held up her wine glass to be refilled, but Dickson stood and waved the woman off.
“I believe our actor has had enough, thank you. I will take a case of your best stock please, and put it on my card.” He fished a credit card from his wallet and handed it to the ecstatic woman.
Bellarose stared out at the mountains she’d grown to love, the land she felt had become a part of her very own soul.
Yes, she loved King, even now after the shitty things he’d said to her. He’d given her so much while here—a love and respect for the world that she hadn’t known before. Perhaps a thank-you was in order.
She looked up at Dickson, feeling the world rotate around her.
He set a hand on her shoulder, and she was glad for the anchor.
She covered his fingers with her own. “That horse—do you know who bought it?”
Chapter Thirteen
The number one rule on a ranch was never get attached. To trucks, cattle, even your trusty horse. Everything had a lifespan, and King had learned it went for relationships too.
“So you finally got the gumption to go to the set of Redemption Falls and found it packed up.” His sister cradled a mug of hot tea between her hands and gave him an annoyingly sympathetic look.
“Yep,” he said. “Waited too long.”
“I always said men are only good at procrastinating and if the human race was left in their hands, we’d go extinct.”
“No man’s gonna put off reproducin’.” King rubbed at the ache between his brows that had started the moment he’d driven up only to find a few abandoned trailers hadn’t been hauled away yet.
Bellarose was gone.
“I thought filming wasn’t set to wrap up for another week or so,” Rachel said.
“Must have finished early. You got anymore coffee?”
“No, you got the last mug. I haven’t been drinking it with junior here.” She patted her stomach that sported a small bump. “Want me to make a fresh pot?”
“Nah, I’d best be headin’ home. Chores to do.” He stood from her kitchen table. It was midday—Johnny was at work and Sierra at a friend’s. He was glad for the time alone to speak with his sister. If he’d gone home with his disappointment and fresh pain, there was no telling what he might have done.
Sold the ranch and hopped a flight for Hollywood.
Rachel stood too and put her arms around him. He kissed the top of her curly mop of hair and gave her a one-armed squeeze before letting her go. She saw him to the door, but there wasn’t much left to say. King had lost the woman he loved and now it was for good.
Time to get on with life.
His lonely, dull life that didn’t alter much from the routine of ranching other than an occasional sick animal or a trip to auction as a bright spot in his month. His shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground as he made his way to his truck and got in. The ride home was bleak, despite the sunny day and cloudless sky. To him, it might as well be raining sideways.
When he pulled into his own bumpy driveway, he let his mind imagine the tents and backdrops of the shows. He’d give anything to see it right now. Hell, he’d even take the annoyance of chasing his herd all over the damn county after they’d escaped the open gate if it meant he could set eyes on Bellarose again.
The barren yard greeted him. Same old.
He parked the truck and cut the engine. Then he circled to the back and grabbed a bag containing some rivets and other odds and ends he’d picked up at the tack store. The harness he’d had Bellarose repair early on hadn’t lasted.
Nothing did.
He strode to the barn, grabbed the leather bits and took everything to the front porch. He’d have a beer and work on the tack. That wouldn’t take his mind off his troubles, but at least he’d shake up his rituals for one day. He’d figure out his next step tomorrow.
He tossed everything onto the floor next to his chair and went inside to get a beer. Even the house looked so different without the soft touches the set crew had provided for filming. The pillows and candles were gone. Even the cowboy magazines that had amused him so much to see spread across his coffee table were a pang of loss.
Thinking of the bedroom was out of the question. There were far too many memories with Bellarose there.
He drifted onto the porch again and set the beer cap against the railing to pop it off. He flicked the cap into the bucket he’d placed back on the porch last week after realizing the show was done and he could get back to his old ways.
Just as he was bringing the bottle to his lips, the crunch of tires had him looking toward the driveway. Expecting to see Schmitty or Wheeler’s truck, he took a swig of beer.
When a brand new royal blue truck hauling a matching trailer came into view, he set the beer on the railing and sauntered down the steps and across the yard to meet it. He tried to see behind the wheel, but the glare of sun on the windshield made it impossible. He hooked his thumb into his pocket and waited.
The driver took the liberty of driving the combo into a half arc and parking in the yard. In the back he saw a gleaming dark horse.
As he moved to the driver’s side, the door opened and his heart gave out.
Came to a standstill.
Bellarose.
She stood in jeans and a plaid top, her cowgirl hat the perfect color against her red hair. She got out of the truck and closed the door before looking at him.
He forgot how to speak, let alone act.
“Hi, Bellarose.” His voice grated out as if he’d chugged a bunch of whiskey followed by the rivets he’d bought in town.
God, she was stunning. Breathtaking, heart-stealing. Her amber eyes glowed out at him shyly from beneath the brim of her hat.
“Hello, King,” she said quietly. She stuck her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and rocked a little on her boots.
“Where’d you rent this?” he asked.
“I didn’t. I bought it.”
Okay, that was a shocker. Why? Too afraid to ask, he fumbled with all the things he should have said, was going to say earlier today and what he could say now. All of it tangled in his mind, creating one huge knot he couldn’t pick loose.
His gaze drank in her beautiful face. “It’s good to see you,” he rasped.
“King…”
“No, wait. I’m the one who needs to say things right now. For one, I’m an idiot. No, an asshole. Both o’ those things. I should never have treated you that way and then I was too stupid to come see you before it was too late.” It slammed him tha
t she hadn’t left with the others.
She bit down on her plush lower lip, and his insides jolted to life as if a live wire had been plugged into his system. He took a step toward her.
“I’m not a Hollywood type. Hell, I’m not even a city person. I’m just a country guy, a rough rancher. And I make mistakes pretty damn often, in case you hadn’t figured out.”
A trace of a smile crossed her face as she released her hold on her lip. She kicked at the ground with a boot. “I did.”
“Jesus, I made the worst mistake of my life in pushing you away, darlin’. I’ve been aching ever since. I can’t sleep, can’t focus. And I’m sorry, Bellarose.”
“King—”
In one big step, he was inches from her and brought his hands up to cradle her face. Looking into her shining eyes, he whispered, “I love you. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you when I had the chance, because I loved you long before you told me that night we spent together.”
“Oh my God… King.” She covered his hands with her own, head tipped back to gaze into his eyes.
“I love you. Still do, always will. It doesn’t matter if you’re in California or the North Pole filming some dogsled movie. I won’t ever stop lovin’ you, Bellarose.”
Her eyes dropped and when she lifted them again, they gleamed with tears. One dropped from her lashes onto her cheek, and he thumbed it away. Sucking in a harsh breath, he searched her eyes.
She let out a watery laugh. “You are pretty stupid, King.”
“I know.”
“And stubborn.”
“My momma always said it was a flaw.”
“And you’re terrible at showing someone how you feel. I never really knew if I was an annoyance, a hindrance or you liked me.”
“Not liked. I love you,” he said with vehemence.
“Well, I love you too. And if show-business has taught me anything, it’s not to give up. Which is why I brought you a present.”
She drew out of his arms and ducked beneath to move around the horse trailer to the rear door. His heart slammed harder, faster, as he trailed behind.
With the offhanded skill of a true rancher, she opened the doors. Then she stood back and waved at what was inside.
He had to grip the trailer to stay upright. “Jesus. It’s the thoroughbred.”
“I know it’s your dream and I couldn’t let you lose it. Dreams are so important. I know it’s just one horse, not nearly what you need to get established. But I know what it’s like to work on dreams—I’ve been doing it since I was twelve. And…” she looked up into his eyes, “I wanted to start your dream. Maybe make it our dream…”
He tore his stare from the beauty on four legs for the one on two. “Bellarose, this is beyond what I deserve.”
“That’s true.”
He made a swipe to grab her, and she giggled, dancing away.
He stalked her until she let him catch her. The moment he pulled her into his hold and leaned his forward against hers, they both grew serious.
“If I’ve got the horse of my dreams, there’s only one thing left to do with my large sum of money.”
Her eyes were deep pools he could fall into again and again. And he planned to.
“What’s that?” Her breath hitched.
Hovering with his lips over hers, he cupped the back of her head and rumbled, “Buy you a big ring and a honeymoon.”
She clutched him by the shirt and yanked him down. Their lips crashed together and in seconds, all was healed. He walked her against the side of the trailer and wedged a knee between her thighs. She moaned and rocked against his muscle, shooting his cock to full hardness in a blink.
When he reached under her blouse and found her straining nipple, she cried out.
“How are you going to work in Hollywood and be with me?” he rumbled against her lips.
Panting, she said, “I’ll travel back and forth when I need to, but I won’t be needed for season two filming for a while. I can stay right here with you.” Her voice trailed off on a gasp when he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Good. I want to negotiate how many times that Chaz guy can put his hands on you.”
She stared up at him. “There’s only one man for me.”
“Good.” He lost himself in a deep kiss that seemed endless. When he drew back, he said, “I just got one more question for you, darlin’.”
She writhed at his touch and went for his belt. “What’s that?”
“Do we get to keep the truck and trailer?”
A huff of laughter escaped her, and she yanked off his hat to pull his hair. “You’re not really making anything up to me.”
He slipped his hand into her jeans and traced the slickness of her slit up to clit. He pressed down on the bundle of nerves, and she weakened in his arms. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth in time to his finger’s movements and then pulled away abruptly.
“Okay, I’ve thought of another question.”
“What’s that?” She panted.
“Bellarose, will you marry me and become a real rancher’s wife?”
Epilogue
Sierra rode her pony down the dark blue satin runner stretched across the ground, scattering flower petals. The pony’s tail was braided with streamers, and King had never seen his niece happier than right now in all her flower girl finery of blue dress and a gold crown.
He shifted from boot to boot. The gazebo that had been erected on Blackwater especially for this occasion offered a bit of shade, but not enough. Sweat zigzagged down his neck and wet the collar of his white shirt. He longed to doff his hat and swipe it away.
He and Bellarose had argued over the hat. He didn’t think a big-time celebrity like her should be marrying someone who looked so country, but she’d only laughed and told him that was what she loved about him the most and he was wearing it.
At least she’d agreed to him buying a new ridgetop instead of dusting off the old worn one.
The low notes of the classical guitar filled his head and the light breeze brought the scent of freshly mowed hay. Blackwater had never looked better. Improvements had been made including the gazebo and a new Jacuzzi hot tub out back of the cabin King had just ordered installed as a wedding gift to his new bride.
It didn’t seem like enough, but she put in so much hard work around here and had suffered from sore and stiff muscles. Plus, he liked the idea of rubbing out all her kinks in the hot, bubbling water.
He had a few kinks too, with the new thoroughbred who was the friskiest horse he’d worked with since his time on his uncle’s ranch.
“You all right, man?” Johnny asked from his side.
He gave a nod, eyes fixed on the blue runner. Sierra moved her pony off to the side and then another woman followed in a gold gown. King had to admit the assistant cleaned up nicely, and he knew Bellarose was happy to have Marissa support her today.
The guitar music grew louder, and King jerked. His palms were sweating as the tones of Pachelbel Canon in D struck up. Swallowing hard, he looked to the head of the aisle. A collective sigh of appreciation sounded from the guests but King barely heard it over the thud of his heartbeat in his ears.
His bride stood on the arm of Dickson in a flowing white gown, looking like a goddess. Her hair was loose and wavy beneath her veil and a crown of flowers. The guitar chords grew louder with each step she took to reach King.
As their gazes connected, all his nerves fled and he was suddenly ready. To say the vows he’d written just for her, to wake up next to her every day of his life and make their world the best he could make it. And the sweet kisses wouldn’t stop even when he was old, decrepit and bald.
She beamed up at him, all the love glowing on her beautiful face as Dickson brought her to a stop at the edge of the gazebo.
The minister turned to Bellarose. “Who gives this woman away?”
“I do,” Dickson intoned. He kissed Bellarose on the cheek and removed her hand from his arm to place it in Kin
g’s grasp.
King felt like letting out a shout of joy.
He clutched his bride’s damp hand in his and drew her into the gazebo with him.
THE END
Em Petrova
Em Petrova was raised by hippies in the wilds of Pennsylvania but told her parents at the age of four she wanted to be a gypsy when she grew up. She has a soft spot for babies, puppies and 90s Grunge music and believes in Bigfoot and aliens. She started writing at the age of twelve and prides herself on making her characters larger than life and her sex scenes hotter than hot.
She burst into the world of publishing in 2010 after having five beautiful bambinos and figuring they were old enough to get their own snacks while she pounds away at the keys. In her not-so-spare time, she is fur-mommy to a Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff and works as editor with USA Today and New York Times bestselling authors.
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