by Nora Roberts
She pulled at him. Not her weaknesses, but the strength she struggled to find and use to fight them back. He had to respect that. Just as he had to acknowledge the low simmer of attraction.
He never would’ve said she was his type. The mending steel of spine under the fragile shell. It made her needy yet, and he had no patience for needy women. Usually.
He liked them smart and steady, and busy with their own lives. So they didn’t take too much time out of his.
She’d probably been all of that before she was hurt, he decided. She might be that way again, but never exactly the same way. He thought it would be interesting to watch her finish putting herself back together, and get a good look at the results.
So he drove while she slept, across the yellow grasses and washed-out green of the ubiquitous sage. And he watched the Tetons spring up out of the plate of land. No gentle rise, no softening foothills to detract from that sudden and awesome power.
Snow still swirled on the peaks, and the slashes of white against the blue, the gray, added another layer of might as they knocked against the sky.
He could still remember his first sight of them, and how he, who’d never call himself a spiritual man, had been struck with their rough and terrible magic. The Rockies were grander, he supposed, and the mountains of the East more elegant. But these, the mountains that ringed what was, for now, his home, were primal.
Maybe he had come here because he didn’t have to jam his elbows into people everywhere he went to get a little space. But those mountains were a hell of a bonus feature.
He drove fast along the empty road across the sage flats where a small herd of bison grazed. Lumbering along, he noted, coats shaggy, big heads lowered. A couple of calves, probably brand-new, stayed close to their mothers.
Though he imagined Reece would enjoy seeing them, he let her sleep.
He knew the flats would erupt into bloom under the summer sun, blaze with impossible color among the sage. And he imagined that with all those acres of open, a grave could go unnoticed by man or beast. If the man had the patience to dig, long and deep.
He wound toward Angel’s Fist, and the stands of cottonwood and pine that bordered it. Reece moaned quietly in sleep. When Brody glanced at her, he saw she’d begun to quiver.
He stopped in the middle of the road, then turned to give her arm a quick shake. “Wake up.”
“No!” She came out of sleep like a runner off the starting block. When her fist shot out, he blocked it with the flat of his hand.
“Hit me,” he said mildly, “I’ll hit back.”
“What? What?” She stared blearily at her fist cupped firmly in his hand. “I fell asleep. Did I fall asleep?”
“If you didn’t, you gave a good imitation of it for the past hour.”
“Did I hit you?”
“You gave it a shot. Don’t try it again.”
“Check.” She willed her heartbeat to steady. “Can I have my hand back?”
He opened his fingers so that she drew her fist back and let it fall into her lap. “You always wake up like you just heard the bell for Round Two?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time—I can’t remember how long—since I slept when anyone’s been around. I guess I feel comfortable around you.”
“Comforting, comfortable.” That eyebrow winged up. “You keep using words like that, I’m going to feel honor-bound to change your mind.”
She smiled a little. “Your kind doesn’t hurt women.”
“Is that so?”
“Physically, I mean. You’ve probably shattered your share of hearts, but you don’t rough the owner up first. You’d just stab her ego to death with words, which is—now that I think about it—just as bad as a pop on the jaw. Anyway, I appreciate you letting me sleep. I must’ve…Oh! Oh, just look at them.”
She’d shifted away, and the view that filled the windshield blew everything else out of her mind. Struck, she unhooked her seat belt, pushed open her door. The wind streamed over her as she stepped out of the car.
“It’s all soraw, so stunning and scary. All this open, and there they are, the—I don’t know—fortress of them taking over everything. It’s like they just shoved their way up, straight out of the ground. I love the suddenness of them.”
She walked to the front of the car, to lean back against the hood. “I look at them every day, out my window, or when I’m walking to or from work. But it’s not the same as being out here without buildings, without people.”
“I’m people.”
“You know what I mean. Out here, faced with them, you feel so utterly human.”
She looked over, pleased he’d come around to join her. “I thought I’d pass through, pick up a little work, move on. And every morning I look out my window at the lake, and I see them mirrored in it, and I can’t think of any reason to leave.”
“Gotta land somewhere, eventually.”
“That wasn’t the plan. Well, I didn’t really have a plan, so to speak. But I thought I’d end up winding my way back East sooner or later. Probably not Boston. Maybe Vermont. I went to school there, so it’s familiar. I was sure I’d miss the green. That East Coast green.”
“The meadows get green, and the flats bloom, the marshes. It’s a picture.”
“I bet it is, but so is this. Better than that glass of wine.” She tipped her head back, closed her eyes and just breathed.
“You look like that sometimes when you’re cooking.”
She opened her eyes again, the deep Spanish brown. “I do? Like what?”
“Relaxed and calm. Happy.”
“I guess that’s where I’m confident, and being confident makes me relaxed and happy. And I’ve missed it. I couldn’t make myself go into a kitchen after what happened. It stole that from me, or I let it be stolen from me. Whatever, I’m getting it back. Listen to the birds. I wonder what they are.”
He hadn’t noticed the birdsong until she mentioned it. Now she turned to look around, and her eyes went wide. She gripped his arm, pointed. “Look. Wow.”
When he did, he saw the small herd of bison, munching their way over the sage flats. “First sighting there, too?”
“Like the bear, I’ve seen them. But I’ve never been standing out with them. It’s more exciting. Oh look! Babies.”
She’d softened on the word, drawing it out like it was melting.
“Why do women always saybabies in just that tone?”
She merely batted the back of her hand at his arm. “They’re so sweet, and then they get so big.”
“Then you fry them up on the grill.”
“Please, I’m having a really nice nature moment here. Seeing them makes me wish I was riding a horse instead of riding in an SUV. More, you know, home on the range on a horse. I want to see an antelope,” she decided. “Well, first I’d have to know how to ride one.”
“You want to ride an antelope?”
“No.” She laughed again, low and easy. “Crossed my thoughts. I want to see an antelope while I’m riding a horse. But I don’t know how to ride.”
“Didn’t Lo offer to teach you?”
She slid her hands into her pockets, still watching the herd. “That’s not what he wanted me to ride. But I may take him up on it—the horseback riding lesson—when I’m sure he’ll behave.”
“You like your men to behave?”
“Not necessarily,” she said absently. “But in his case.”
The alarm bells didn’t go off until after he’d turned, planted his hands on the hood on either side of her and caged her in.
“Brody.”
“You’re not stupid, and you’re not slow. Jittery’s different. Do you want to tell me you didn’t figure this was coming?”
Her heart kicked, and maybe some of it was fear. But not all of it. “My mind hasn’t been focused in this area for a long time. I guess it slipped by me. Mostly slipped by me,” she corrected.
“If you’re not interested, you’d better make it clear.”
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“Of course I’m interested, it’s just—whoa.”
The last word all but squeaked out as he took her arms, lifted her right up to her toes. “You’d better get your breath,” he warned. “We’re going for a dive.”
She couldn’t get her breath, or her brains, or her balance. The dive was steep and sudden so that the air that had been so fresh and cool went pumping hot. His mouth wasn’t patient or kind, didn’t persuade or seduce. It just took what it wanted. The sensation of being swept up, swept away, swept apart left her giddy and loose.
Hot, she thought. Hard, she thought. Hungry. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like to have a man hunger for the taste of her, then take his fill.
Even as she wondered if there’d be anything left of her when he was done, her arms locked around his neck. His hands gripped her hips and yanked her roughly against him.
Her heart pounded against his—beat after hard, fast beat. And she trembled. But her mouth was as avid as his; her arms twined firm around his neck. It wasn’t fear he tasted as he ravaged her lips, but shock spearing through a sultry blast of need.
Because he wanted more, he simply hitched her up by the hips until she sat on the hood of his car. Then he moved in, and took more.
Maybe she lost her mind, and she’d worry about it later. But for now she gave in to the demands of her body and hooked her legs around his waist.
“Touch me.” She nipped his bottom lip, his tongue. “Touch me somewhere. Anywhere.”
His hands streaked under the soft cotton of her sweater, closed over her breasts. The moan broke from her as her body strained for more. More contact, more sensation, more everything. His hands were rough and hard, like the rest of him, rough and hard and direct. Strong, so that everywhere he touched she felt wonderfully swollen, tenderly bruised.
Her response, her demands, had the control he hadn’t expected to need thinning to its last taut wire. He could see himself taking her right on the hood of the car, just ripping off whatever clothes were in the way and driving into her until this raw, ripe tension was released.
“Easy.” His hands weren’t completely steady this time as he took her arms. “Let’s ease back a little.”
She could barely hear him over the roaring in her head, so she let that head fall limply to his shoulder. “Okay. Okay. Wow. We can’t—we shouldn’t—”
“We did. We damn sure will again, but since we’re not sixteen, it won’t be in the middle of the road on the hood of a car.”
“No. Right.” Is that where they were? She managed to lift her head, focus. “Jesus. We’re in the middle of the road. Move. You have to move.”
She leaped down, dragged her hands through her disordered hair, tugged at her sweater, her jacket.
“You look fine.”
She didn’t feel fine. She felt used—but not nearly used enough. “We can’t…I’m not ready to…This isn’t a good idea.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me and bear my children, Slim. It was a kiss, and a damn good idea. Sleeping together’s an even better one.”
She pressed her hands to her temples. “I can’t think. My head’s going to explode.”
“A few minutes ago, it felt like another part of you was going to explode.”
“Stop. Would you just stop? Look at us, groping each other, talking about sex. A woman’s dead.”
“She’s going to be dead whether or not we go to bed. If you need a little time to get your head around that, fine. Take a couple days. But if you think, after that, we’re not going to have each other, then I was wrong. You are stupid.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“See. I was right.” He turned to stroll around the car.
“Brody. Will you just wait a goddamn minute.”
“For what?”
She stared at him, big and male and rugged, backed by the towering spread of the dramatic Tetons. “I don’t know. I absolutely don’t know.”
“Then let’s get back. I want a beer.”
“I don’t sleep with every man I’m attracted to.”
Now he leaned on the open car door. “According to you, you haven’t slept with anybody in two years.”
“That’s right. If you think you’re going to take advantage of my…dry spell—”
“Bet your skinny ass I am.” And he grinned as he slid into the car.
She marched her skinny ass to the passenger door and huffed her way inside. “This is a ridiculous conversation.”
“So shut up.”
“I don’t even know why I like you,” she muttered. “Maybe I don’t. I may have responded to you the way I did because it’s been a long time since I had any…intimate personal contact.”
“Why don’t you just say you haven’t gotten laid?”
“Obviously, I don’t have your elegance with words. But my point is, just because I responded doesn’t mean I’m going to let you dump me into bed.”
“I don’t plan to knock you on the head with my club and drag you off by the hair into my cave.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” She fumbled out the shield of her sunglasses. “And while I’m grateful to you for believing me, for supporting me, I—”
He braked so hard she jerked against the seat belt. “One has nothing to do with the other.” His voice was dangerously cold. “Don’t go there.”
“I…” She closed her mouth, took a breath when he began to drive again. “That was insulting, you’re right. It was insulting to both of us. I told you I couldn’t think. My body’s all churned up, and my brain’s inside out. I’m pissed off, I’m scared, and I’m horny. And I’m getting a headache.”
“Take a couple of aspirin, lie down. And let me know when horny leads the pack.”
Reece stared at the mountains. “This has been the strangest couple of days.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I want to talk to the sheriff. You could just drop me off there.”
“Go home, take the aspirin, call him.”
“I need to talk to him face-to-face. Drop me off,” she repeated as they crossed the line into Angel’s Fist. “Go have your beer.” When Brody didn’t respond, she shifted in her seat to face him. “I’m not asking you to go with me. I don’t want you to. If Sheriff Mardson doesn’t think I can stand up for myself, he has less reason to believe me.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I’m trying to.”
When he pulled over in front of the sheriff’s office, he sent her a curious look. “What’s for dinner tomorrow?”
“What?”
“You’re feeding me.”
“Oh. I forgot. I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“That sounds delicious. Go on, get this done. Then get some sleep. You look ready to drop.”
“Please, no more flattery. You’ll turn my head.” She waited one beat, two, then grabbed her pack from the floor and fumbled for the door.
“Problem?”
“No. Well, I thought you’d kiss me goodbye.”
His lips twitched as he cocked an eyebrow. “Gee, Slim, are we going steady?”
“You’re such an asshole.” But a laugh tickled her throat as she shoved open the door. “And when you ask me to go steady, make sure to bring a ring.” She stuck her head in the door. “And tulips—they’re my favorite.” Then slammed it.
The baffled amusement carried her to the sheriff’s door. Nerves didn’t start to bump until she’d opened it, stepped inside.
It smelled of stale coffee and wet dog. She noted the location of the first on a short counter on the left side of the room where a nearly empty pot of what looked like black mud steamed away. And the source of the second lay snoring on the floor beside the two face-to-face metal desks where, she assumed, the deputies worked.
Only one was occupied. Mop of dark hair, little goatee, cheerful hazel eyes, slight, youthful build. Denny Darwin, Reece remembered, who liked his eggs over hard and his bacon next to burnt.
He glanced up a
s the door opened, flushed a little. The way his fingers hurriedly tapped keys on the computer led her to believe whatever he’d been doing on it wasn’t official business.
“Hey, Ms. Gilmore.”
“Reece.” He wasn’t that much younger than she was, she thought. Twenty-five, maybe, and with a fresh open face despite the goatee. “I was hoping to speak to the sheriff if he’s in.”
“Sure, he’s back in his office. Just go ahead.”
“Thanks. Nice dog.” She paused, took a closer look. “I’ve seen that dog. It’s the one who likes to swim in the lake.”
“That’d be Moses. Abby Mardson’s dog. Sheriff’s middle girl?”
“Yes, of course. She tosses a ball in the lake for him so he can dive in and get it.”
“He likes to keep us company when the kids’re in school. Stayed over some today.”
Moses rolled one eye open, gave Reece the once-over out of a brown furry face and stirred enough to thump his huge, hairy tail.
“We’ve usually got some soup bones over at Joanie’s. Just let me know if Moses wants one.”
“Appreciate that.”
“Nice meeting you, Moses.”
She walked through the outer office in the direction Denny had gestured. There was another desk for Dispatch, empty and quiet now, just before the hallway.
Down one end of the hall were two open cells, currently unoccupied, and down the other a door markedSTORAGE, another markedLAVATORY. Across from the storeroom, Rick Mardson’s office door stood open.
He sat behind an oak desk that looked as if it had been through several wars. He faced the door, with the window behind him high enough so that it gave him privacy while it let inlight. Besides the expected computer and phone system, the desk held a couple of picture frames, file folders and a bright red mug as a nesting pot for various pens and pencils.
On the old coatrack in the corner hung his hat and a faded brown barn jacket. Movie posters cheered up the industrial beige walls with images of John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Paul Newman in their cowboy best.
He rose as she hesitated at the doorway. “Come on in, Reece. I just called your place again.”
“I should get an answering machine. Have you got a minute?”
