by Jillian Neal
“Nah,” Brock guided Hope into his lap at the large round kitchen table, plenty big enough for everyone and then some, as his aunt was fond of saying.
“Luke, Grant, and Nat live here and help run the ranch. Austin’s a rodeo king. You didn’t have to come home for me, man.”
“You kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this. Plus, I told you rodeo’s hell on my back and my wallet,” he laughed.
“Well, if you’d stop gettin’ thrown you’d actually make some money, bro,” Holly chastised.
“Funny, Hall. Don’t forget I know where you sleep,” Grant sneered.
Brock shook his head, extremely pleased that not much had changed. “Grant added onto the family land and bought himself one hell of a corn farm that he constantly tries to keep the cows out of, and Holly’s going to University in Lincoln.”
“Yes, I am, and I’m about to be your very favorite cousin,” Holly announced as she pulled two student tickets to the Huskers game the following Saturday out of her back pocket. “I upgraded them for you, so you and Hope can go, even though you’re not students.”
“Are you serious?” Brock was ecstatic. “Okay, you are my favorite.”
Everyone laughed as Ev and Jessie made their way inside the kitchen.
“You want to go? I still owe you a football game, too.” Brock tried to keep the enthusiasm from his voice in case Hope didn’t want to go all the way back to Lincoln.
“Like I would ever keep you from a Cornhuskers game.” She laughed at him outright.
“Hell of a woman right there,” Luke chided.
His aunt produced plates of her famous cream cheese chocolate chip cookies and sacks full of cheeseburger Runzas and onion rings Ev and Jessie must have picked up in Lincoln before they headed to the airport. They all dug in despite it only being three in the afternoon. “You’re all gonna ruin your supper,” Jessie fussed.
“You got Runzas and made cookies, Mama. We’re gonna eat it.” Natalie shook her head at her mother, who was beaming.
When they were all thoroughly stuffed, Jessie proceeded to show Hope around the main house. Brock tagged along. He wanted to absorb as much of it as he was able.
“Brock, look at you.” She swooned as they headed upstairs. Pictures of all of the Camden kids lined every available space up the staircase and throughout the hallways. There were numerous shots of Brock working the ranch and several of him on horseback as a kid with blue ribbons attached to the frames.
Cringing at the dorky grin on his dirt covered face, he shook his head. “Aunt Jess, she doesn’t want to see all of these.”
“Yes, I do. You were so cute,” Hope argued readily. Delighted, Jessie proceeded to show off every picture of Brock she could round up throughout the house.
Brock finally dragged Hope away from his baby book and guided her back through the kitchen.
Luke and Natalie headed out to check the cattle. “You wanna ride? We got horses to spare,” Luke urged.
“Can’t yet.” Brock gestured to his shoulder. “Gotta go through physical therapy first.” Disappointment rang in his tone, but a mischievous light twinkled in his cousin’s eyes.
“You don’t need therapy to ride a horse, man. You were almost born on horseback. I’ll put you on Cinder. He’ll take it easy. Plus, he’s yours anyway. He’s Lucky’s foal.”
Sadness twisted in Brock’s chest. He’d stayed on the phone with Uncle Ev for hours many years before when his beloved, Lucky, had taken her last breaths. “Yeah, maybe, but I’m not in shape to rustle cattle just yet. Plus, I want to get Hope settled in. She’s never seen a working ranch.”
“Well, put her in a truck and drive her around. We got the cattle grazing on the west end, so if you head east you might find some spot where you can show Hope around. Oh, but I guess that’d be showing her a working ranch-er,” Austin laughed. He had a perfectly good idea of what it was Brock really wanted: to be alone with Hope.
Brock chuckled and shook his head at Austin. Hope gave Brock a look that said if he got on horseback she’d have something to say about it. He patted her backside. “Come on, sugar. Let’s go get settled in.”
“I’ll drop you off,” Natalie volunteered.
Eighteen
Hope wandered around the cottage house while Brock unloaded their suitcases.
The kitchen was stocked with a few snacks, coffee, cream, sugar, cans of Coke, and his uncle’s preferred brand of bottle beer, Budweiser. Brock was certain there was whiskey in the cabinets, but he was more than done with alcohol for a long while after he’d downed six pack after six pack and shot after shot the night he’d left Hope in her driveway.
He still regretted making light of Ryan’s struggles with alcohol, even if he’d never admitted them out loud. Maybe Ryan had been hurting, too. He swallowed down the sense of terror that always overwhelmed him when he thought of his father. Perhaps his father had been hurting as well. Not that pain gave him any excuse for what he’d done, the hell he’d put Brock through, but maybe everyone had something they were ashamed of. Maybe, if the world were just a little more kind and a little less judgmental, people could heal. Maybe they could tell the truth about themselves instead of spreading lies about others. Maybe it wasn’t hatred and greed that made the world a cruel place to exist. Maybe, just maybe, it was fear. And maybe, for his own sake, he should consider forgiving his father. Maybe.
“Brock, there’s a whole loft up here.” Hope called down from above the living room. Grinning, he climbed the stairs to join her.
“I know, sugar.” He gestured to the window seats and the bookshelves filled with Natalie, Holly, and Jesse’s old romance novels, an ancient set of encyclopedias, ranch equipment catalogs from the eighties, and several other novels he had no hope of reading … yet. “Looks like your kind of place.”
“It’s so cozy up here.”
“I was kind of hoping you’d stay in the bedroom with me, but I guess we can camp out up here if you want. Hardwood floors might be hell on my shoulder.”
“We’re not sleeping up here.” She rolled her eyes. “The house just kind of reminds me …” Whatever it reminded her of it strangled in her throat. Tears pricked her eyes. He rushed towards her and wrapped her up in his arms.
“Reminds you of what, sweetie?”
“The house where I grew up. Well, where we lived before the wreck. It had a loft like this that Skye and I shared, and my parent’s bedroom was below just like here. I remembered.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I remember that I could watch my mom cook in the kitchen from my room while I read. I loved that. And Daddy’s shop was built off of the corner, where the big part of the porch is here. I loved to hear him working.”
Brock squeezed her as tight as his shoulder would allow. “I love you.” He swayed her gently, letting the tears she shed wet his shirt. “I will always love you, Hope. I want to take care of you. I guess what I’m trying to say is I want you to be mine forever. That’s what I always wanted, and I just never thought I could have that so I made a lot of stupid mistakes. I know I tried to say this in the hospital, but I need you to hear it again. I’m not sure I said it right there. I’m so sorry for everything I put you through, and everything I did to you. I just wanted you to know that I’m never going anywhere. You’re everything to me. I want to spend an entire lifetime with you sharing experiences and really living, together. I can’t stand what you already went through, and then what I put you through on top of everything, but please know I will never stop trying to make it up to you. Ever. I’ll never stop trying to earn your love, because I don’t deserve it.”
“I love you too, Brock. You did say it right in the hospital but thank you for saying it again. I forgive you for everything you did. I can’t imagine what you went through trying to live with lies your dad forced on you. I want to be with you forever, too.”
“Does that mean if I got a ring, and got down on one knee, and did the whole deal you’d say yes?”
&
nbsp; Laughing through her tears, she nodded. “Yes.”
That one word made him woozy with relief. Life flowed through his veins, mending his heart and his soul. The lies he’d told for so long loosened their death grip. For the first time in fourteen years, he felt like he could draw a full breath, and it was filled with the heavenly scent of her, his saving grace, his everything.
*******
Hope wrapped herself up in her own arms, shivering on the porch of The Cottage. Everything about the Ranch felt as if she’d been there before. A sense of home continued to taunt her instead of bringing her calm. She stared out at the horizon. That stupid, restless wind wouldn’t give her peace. What did it want? She knew, but was terrified to admit it to herself. She wasn’t certain she was strong enough.
As the sun set in a thousand unidentifiable but gorgeous colors over the gently rolling hills, Brock joined Hope out on the wraparound porch that surrounded the little cottage where they were spending the week. He’d noticed her shiver when he’d passed by the back door. The winds had picked up since they’d arrived. He wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking her back to his chest.
“You okay, sugar?”
“You always ask me that. I love it, but I was wondering, why do you always ask if I’m okay?” Her soft sigh made him smile as the confession worked its way up from his soul.
“Probably because I wasn’t okay for a lot of years, and no one ever asked me. I always need to know that you’re okay, and if there is ever anything you want to talk about I want you to know that I’m right here, no matter what.”
“I love you so much.” She turned and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.
“I love you, too and I will never ever get tired of telling you that.”
“It’ so beautiful here, Brock.”
“It is, but there is nothing more beautiful anywhere than you.”
“I’m sorry you had to leave here when you were a kid.”
“Well, if leaving here and all of the shit my life was for all of those years got me to you saying you’d be mine forever, it was all worth it.”
“I’m a little tired.” A distinctive yearning perforated her soft confession and heat settled in her cheeks. Yeah, he didn’t need a book to be able to read her, and he never would. She wasn’t tired. Sleep wasn’t what she craved. He knew. He’d always know. Whatever was eating at her could be soothed in their bed, in his arms.
“Are you, darlin’? I could take you to bed.”
“I thought you wanted to go hear that band play.”
“There are other things I’d far rather hear tonight. The way you moan for me. The way you gasp for me with my first thrust hard inside of you. Slick, hot, and wet when I get you going. The sexy whimper you give me when you’re wanting more, and Lord have mercy, there is nothing that sounds as good as the way you cry out my name when I make you come.”
Her body trembled in his arms. He rocked his hips forward, grasping her ass and letting her feel his rapidly hardening cock stiffen against her. “Come to bed with me, Hope. Let me love you, darlin’. I know what you’re needing, and I’m gonna take good care of you.”
Her eyes held that wildfire that he loved. She let him guide her to the small bedroom off of the living room. The windows were open, allowing the cool evening breeze to lift her hair and send a slight shiver through her body. All day, the breeze had swept through the fields, irritating the cattle and making the horses skittish. Brock had felt it before. He didn’t give it too much thought. There was something far more enticing standing before him needing him to make her better.
“I’ll always keep you warm, sweetheart. I’ll always take care of you.” He drew her into his arms and slowly lifted the long sleeved shirt over her head. He watched her breasts swell and her nipples tighten against the lace of her bra. “So beautiful, just so damn beautiful, and all mine. God, I’ll never know how I got so lucky.”
Her breaths came in rapid pants as chill bumps skittered across her shoulders. She stared up at him with dark craving eyes. “I want you. I just … I need you, Brock,” she whispered softly as she swayed against him.
A ragged moan tore from his chest. “I’ve got you, and I’m gonna take good care of you, darlin’, always. Relax for me. I’m right here.” With his fingertips, he traced along her collarbone, igniting the nerve endings there. Up over her shoulders, he spun around her, tracing down her bra straps until he released her breasts from their trappings. Dispensing with the satin and lace, her reached and cupped her breasts from behind her.
Her breath shivered from her lungs as he caressed and coaxed her nipples into a heated throb. He splayed his left hand against her abdomen. He could see it all in his mind’s eye, a proposal, a wedding, a honeymoon, a life. Her swollen full of his babies, ripe and round, beautiful, natural, all for him.
Constantly trying to outswim the riptide of the life he’d had thrust upon him made him anxious for one he created himself. He wanted it all with her.
“I can’t wait, Hope. I can’t wait to be your husband, to make babies with you, to have a life with you. I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you. God, I want it all right now.”
She reached her right hand back and slipped it between their bodies grasping his straining, denim-covered cock. It throbbed out its pleasure as she rubbed and taunted him.
“That what you need, sugar?” His voice rumbled from his chest, filled with greed and insatiable hunger. “Need me to show you who you belong to?”
“Yes, please.”
With that, he unsnapped her jeans and had her free of the rest of her clothes in no time flat. “Turn around and let me look at you.”
She spun and stared up at him with need penned on every delicious curve of her delectable little body. He grasped her waist and brought her right breast to his mouth. “I’m hungry for you. You’re just so damn sweet.” He took a slow sucking drag of her breasts, back and forth, one and then the other until she was writhing in his hands. Ignoring the slight twinge in his shoulder, he hoisted her up onto the quilt-covered, queen-sized bed they were sharing. Her watched, mesmerized as her breasts danced as she landed against the soft mattress. Oh yeah, he wanted to watch it all. She sat up, giving him a sweet little sex-kitten grin that was nearly his undoing.
Tearing the t-shirt he was wearing over his head, he allowed her to unbuckle his belt. She jerked his jeans and boxers down, revealing his cock, swollen and throbbing all for her.
Hope’s eyes goggled as she traced her fingers up his rigid cock while he stepped out of his boots and jeans. She leaned and brandished a kiss just below his head, drawing a strained grunt from his lungs. He leaked, and she tasted the pearl of his essence with a hungry suck.
“Lay back for me. Let me touch you, sugar. I need to be inside of you.”
She obeyed, laying her body back on the soft quilt, so anxious for his touch and his love. He brushed soft open-mouthed kisses along the slight hollows of her belly, then spun his tongue over her navel, making her gasp.
With a smirk, he lifted his head. “That tickle, sugar? I’ll have to remember that.” She wiggled for him as he continued his trek to her pussy.
With one index finger he traced her slit back and forth until she was certain she would go insane with need. Leaning down, he brushed several slight kisses along her mound. “These tiny freckles … right here … drive me fucking wild,” he informed her in several broken syllables. She grinned at that admission and took one long moment of thankfulness that he was hers. She knew that gratitude would last her lifetime.
Spreading her legs just slightly, he brushed another kiss in the hollow between her right leg and her pussy. Her body tensed as he spun his tongue in the tender spot. He kissed lower, moving along her left lip in the most sensitive part of her thigh, and then switched to work his mouth up her right. She writhed. “Please, Brock, I need more.” She pled.
“There’s my girl. So fucking sexy when you beg.” He grunted his approval before dipping his tongue
between her lips and lapping the nectar spilling so readily from her. “So wet for me, sugar. I know just what you need.” He worked his mouth to her clit and speared two fingers deep within her swollen channel. Sucking and licking in a constant steady rhythm, he stroked the coiled nerve endings deep inside of her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Her mind spun and her body lifted from the bed with a harsh breathy groan of release that rocketed up from her mound and shot out in a rush of heated ecstasy through her veins. She felt drunk with need and with him.
He laid out in the bed on his back, confusing her momentarily. Hope’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she allowed him to straddle her legs over his cock. “I want to watch you, sweetheart. I want to watch you ride me, watch your sweet little pussy swallow up my cock, watch your beautiful breasts dance, feel how tight you are, stretch you to me, and I want to see your face when you let it all go for me.”
“Oh, God, yes.” She couldn’t catch her breath. He guided her body up on her knees, back and forth over his cock, slicking it with her dew. Fevered steel slipped against her, tempting her opening and then up to her clit before he moved back again. So caught up in the heady ecstasy of the tempting coercion he was employing, it didn’t occur to her until he’d made several passes that she had complete control. She leaned, careful of his shoulder, and pressed back against him until her body consumed his.
A thundering, guttural groan ripped from his lungs as he gave a thrust of ownership. “Ride me, sugar. Ride me hard.”
More than happy to comply, she pressed back until she felt his sac move against her, and then rocked forward, picking up speed with each pass. She gripped the headboard and gave into the friction her body demanded as she began to flex around his throbbing cock. Neither of them had any hope of knowing where she stopped and he began. They existed together, as one, the way it should always have been.
“My God, that’s incredible,” he groaned in ragged desperation. Her body pulled him deeper. Ecstasy consumed her. Every doubt, every worry, that silly wind let her be as long as she was in his arms.
