Texas Hope: Sweetgrass Springs Stories (Texas Heroes Book 16)

by Jean Brashear

  His eyebrows rose. “I promise you the next round will have you levitating.”

  “Big talk,” she mocked and waggled her own brows. “Prove it.”

  He rolled them over and grinned as she perched above him. He was already hard again.

  She cocked her head. “So how are you planning to remove your boots when I’m not planning to let you move from this spot?” She swiveled her hips and had him groaning, eyes closing in bliss.

  I love you came perilously close to coming out of her mouth, and the urge shocked her so badly she launched herself from the bed and all but ran for the bathroom.

  “Laken—”

  She slammed the door shut and started the shower, stepped inside.

  Seconds later, the curtain opened, and he joined her. Turned her to him and cradled her cheek. “Are you okay?”

  She closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be okay now that he’d carved himself into her life. She couldn’t see any way they could be together for the long term.

  And the thought of letting him go again made her ache. Hot tears burned, and she retreated into the spray.

  Strong arms came around her, and he spoke softly into her ear. “Laken, I love you. Let me show you how much.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Why couldn’t she be different? Why couldn’t he? She didn’t do normal, and she’d warned him from the first.

  Gently but firmly he turned her, gathered her close. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll be okay.”

  How? She wanted to shriek. How can we ever be okay? She wasn’t normal, and he was too much so. He was meant for a cottage with a white picket fence and a woman who could live in one.

  But he gentled her with long, smooth strokes until she relaxed against his broad chest, and though she could feel his body’s powerful response to her, he didn’t make a move on her.

  Instead, he found her shampoo and tenderly washed her hair, careful to keep the suds from her eyes. He rinsed it and even found her conditioner, then moved to soaping her body, every touch of his hands both gentle and searing. He soaped himself with quick efficiency, then rinsed them both off, shut off the water and found her towel. With patient strokes, he dried her, then used fast, rough strokes for himself.

  And all the while, those brown eyes caressed her.

  When they were dry, he picked her up with easy strength and took her back to bed.

  With slow, tantalizing caresses and torturing kisses, he began with her eyelids and worked his way down her body. He took his time, and not an inch of skin was neglected. She was putty in his hands by the time he reached her toes.

  “Michael…” She reached for him.

  He clasped her hands in his and squeezed. But he didn’t stop.

  Instead he worked his way back up, every kiss bringing a sigh, every caress a moan of yearning. He stopped midway and sent her soaring to the skies, and though she could feel the fine tension in his muscles, he never rushed her. Sex had always been explosive between them, and she’d never wanted to change a thing. Crazy hot sex was plenty.

  But this…this was making love.

  And even as she reveled in its sweetness, grief was tearing at the edges because she still knew this could not last.

  When at last he joined them, she moaned with the glory of it.

  “Look at me, Laken.”

  She opened her eyes to see his brimming with something so beautiful she couldn’t look away.

  So they made love with eyes open, unspoken words flowing between them, borne on the currents of wishes and crazy dreams.

  And she rose right with him until at last, his tenderness gave way to fierce demand and towering passion. He wouldn’t be denied, this man who seemed so gentle but could be as formidable as any warrior chieftain.

  When he tried to speak, she placed her fingers over his lips, then levered up to take those lips with her own.

  The sparks built, flames rising from all that they felt, all they didn’t voice, and as the inferno raced over them, all she could say over and over again was his name.

  “Michael…”

  “Oh, Michael…”

  And the most forbidden name of all, one she’d never utter.

  Mine.

  In the aftermath, he tucked her into him and smoothed her hair from her ears. “I’m going to marry you, Laken,” he said as if it were simple fact.

  While she was still blinking her astonishment, he slipped into sleep.

  And she soon followed.

  Michael woke before Laken, smiling as he felt her curled beside him. She might be facing away, but she had her back and her sweet behind snugged right up against him.

  She didn’t want to want him—that she’d made abundantly clear over and over.

  But despite what her head told her, her body wanted his.

  More importantly, he was pretty sure her heart was a traitor to what she perversely considered good sense. Still, she had a head like a rock, that much he was clear on. There was a war going on inside the totality that was Laken Foster, and he considered himself a man of honor. He tried his best to do right by people, to be fair and just.

  But he would stretch the borders of his honor to have this woman in his life. For good.

  He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, tracing a lazy mote of sunlight across the room.

  Laken was too blasted smart for her own good. His, too. He appreciated a woman with brains in the normal course of things. In this case, however, Laken had ideas in her head that he would be hard-pressed to dislodge.

  Not that she’d ever come clean and share her fears with him, oh no. She was bound and determined to remain alone, and he’d give his eyeteeth to understand why.

  She didn’t trust him enough to tell him, though.

  But if she thought that put him off or would make him give up…she had another think coming. Yes, to ease her past her notions of who she was and what she could be would require guile and resolve—in spades.

  To say nothing of boatloads of patience.

  She would not go down easily, no sir. She would fight to the bitter end. He didn’t want to break that fierce spirit of hers or cause her a moment’s misery.

  But he was in this to win and while most people found him easygoing—which he preferred to be—he had a lifetime of experience going his own way. His father had been a powerful man accustomed to subordinates hopping when he said Jump. He’d been an absolute ruler of his world, and Michael’s mother had been his cherished queen, content in most ways to go along.

  Michael, too, had wanted to please his father, wanted to be loved by him and to make him proud.

  But somewhere along the way, he’d realized that he’d have to be docile to achieve that—even as doing so would rob him of his father’s respect.

  So Michael chose his own path and persevered. Becoming a vet was not the only battle he and his father had fought, however politely. He had been raised to fit perfectly in the world where Laken operated as a lawyer—refined, sophisticated, urbane. He’d grown up in a house where the right wines were served, where the silver on the table was antique and heavy and the linens were perfectly matched. He could operate there when he needed to—

  But that wasn’t where he wanted to live. He’d been far more drawn to the earthy, to the real, to the plainspoken. Life with a constant parade of animals taught a person a lot about what was real and what was artifice. From a very young age, he’d taken in this stray and that, often keeping them in the playhouse he’d been given as a child. There, far from the disapproving eyes of his father, complicit with the gardener and the housekeeper, Michael had dealt with blood and sickness, with death and life. He’d delivered a litter of kittens when he was twelve and splinted a bird’s leg four years before that.

  He’d been happiest in the muck and coated with fur and feathers. He’d simply learned to clean up before he went to the dinner table, then conducted appropriate conversations while his mind drifted to whatever patient needed him most.
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  The battle to be himself, to carve out the life he wanted, had required years, but in the end he’d won.

  So you don’t stand a chance, sweetheart. I developed patience over years’ worth of waiting.

  And I never give up.

  This time was harder in many ways, however. There was a burn in his blood for this woman. He was more than ready to make her his, to be with her every day.

  But he understood that you have to let a bird fly until he’s ready to come to you. That a terrified squirrel can be brought to feed from your hand, but not if you rush him. That a horse can panic and hurt himself if you are hasty in his gentling.

  And you, my fine lady, are as wild and frightened as any of them.

  But you can trust me. I just have to prove it to you.

  Then Laken stirred and stretched. He could see when she realized she was not in bed alone, and he debated. He was ready for her—he was always ready to have her.

  But sometimes a wise man let his quarry come to him.

  So though his body roared its protest as he left her warm and inviting flesh, he knew he had to do it.

  For now, at least.

  Then her slender hand stroked his flank. “Where do you think you’re going?” Her voice was a husky lure.

  He looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you have to get to work?”

  Lines appeared between her brows. “I’m a partner now, if a junior one. I have some leeway.” She rose to her knees and slid her arms around him from behind, her sweet breasts against the flesh of his back.

  Michael squeezed his eyes shut and grappled for some of that patience he’d sworn he possessed.

  Then one hand went wandering and found him. “My, my.” There was a cat-in-cream smile in her voice. “Turn around.” She curved her own body around his, her lips parted to take him in.

  “Laken, I don’t think—” He tried to lean away, but even his far greater strength didn’t help.

  She was sinuous and sneaky.

  He gasped, and dug his fingers into her hair. “Laken—”

  She paused in her ministrations for only a second. “Not a time for thinking, Michael.” She pushed at him, and he fell back on the mattress.

  With the grin of a sorceress, she nibbled on her lower lip and scanned his body. “Mm-mm-mm…where shall I start?”

  Before he could lever himself up and take control, she was on him.

  And every last thought evaporated from his head.

  Some time later as they lay gasping, Laken started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The great and saintly Dr. Michael was just putty in my hands.” She half-rose and cast him a saucy grin.

  She was so damn beautiful that he completely rushed his fences. “Come back with me, Laken. Please.”

  Caution crept in and extinguished the glow. “Where?”

  Damn it. But he was in the soup now. “You know where. Come with me to Sweetgrass Springs. Let me introduce you to my brother.”

  She glanced away. “I have a big case.”

  He clutched the wrecked sheets in his fists. “You’re always going to have a big case. You’re that good.”

  Surprise lit her features.

  “You don’t think I know how good you are? That I don’t appreciate it? I know you’re talented, Laken.” He was furious with himself for completely blowing his game plan. Since it was too late now, he put his heart in his eyes and his voice. “One weekend, that’s all I’m asking. Please.” And since he’d already screwed up so colossally, he went for broke. “Come see Ajax if you won’t come see me.”

  Hurt warred with caution. “So you’re settled on this? It’s Brigadoon for you? And no other option stands a chance?”

  “I didn’t say that.” But he heard the irritation in his tone. “There’s a practice in Fredericksburg I might be able to buy. We could meet halfway, have our house there.”

  Her frown deepened.

  Damn it, damn it. What else could he screw up?

  “A house?” she echoed. “Michael, I live here. I have to live here.”

  He lunged from the bed, started yanking on his jeans and searching for his boots. “No, that’s not true. You choose to live here. You could live somewhere else. There’s this handy little invention called the internet. There could be working here a few days a week when you have to have meetings or appear in court. There are all kinds of options, but apparently I’m the only one interested in being flexible.”

  “Flexible?” she practically shrieked. “Who was it who announced—announced, not asked, mind you—that he was going to marry me last night?”

  “And that irritates you. That I love you pisses you off.”

  “Yes—no. Damn it, Michael, I don’t know. You make my head spin. You get in the way.”

  “Of what?” he shot back. “Of spending nights down there,” he accused, pointing to the club. “Dancing while you size up your next meaningless encounter? Or cruising the warehouse district for the next body you’ll screw and then forget?”

  He was shouting now, and she recoiled from the verbal slap.

  “So that’s what you really think of me? I’m just a whore?”

  “No—you’d never let them pay. You’d never give up that much control.”

  “Get out.” Her voice was shaking with her fury.

  And then the rage cleared from his eyes enough for him to see hers…and realize they were stricken. Shattered. “Laken, I—” He took a step toward her.

  “Get out.” She clutched the sheet to herself, hiding from his view. “Or I will call the cops.”

  Never, not once in his life had he ever intentionally hurt anyone.

  And certainly not the woman he loved. He held out his palms. “Laken, I didn’t mean—” Her face was closed against him. Her entire body was defense. “I was—you hurt me, damn it. What is so worthless about my heart that you won’t even give us a chance?” The pain had teeth and claws. “I only want to love you.”

  “And that’s how you show it? Tell me I’m a slut?”

  Shame, deep and sharp, cut through him. “I didn’t mean it that way.” He exhaled hard. “I don’t always understand you. But I do love you.”

  “You can’t possibly.” She looked away, shaking her head. “Please just…go.”

  He stepped toward her again, aching to fix this, knowing a visceral fear that he never could—but damned if he was giving up now. He had little left to lose. “Tell me what haunts you. Tell me why you are so afraid of loving me.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she countered immediately. “I just—I’ve seen how much love can damage.”

  “When?”

  “My mother fell in love and lost herself completely. Gave up everything for my father.” Her face was closed and hard, but fury sparked in her eyes. “And when he left her for a younger woman, there was nothing left of her. Love is cruel. I won’t ever risk that.”

  “And here I say I love you and slap at you the way I did.” He hung his head, trying to beat his fear back, reaching for calm. Praying with every word that he could undo some of the damage. “I have never in my life spoken to anyone like that. I knew better than to ask you now to come with me, but I just want so damn bad to find a way for us.” Her gaze was so closed to him now. “You make it hard, Laken, because you won’t give an inch. But that’s your fear talking.” He looked straight at her. “I didn’t do anything to earn your trust just now, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But I am not giving up on you, sweetheart. Not giving up on us.”

  Then he forced himself to step back, heartsick at knowing she was out of his reach now. “The next move is yours. However much it scares the hell out of me that you’ll let your fears kill any chance we might have. I’m asking you, Laken, please don’t kill what we could have because you let your fear strangle hope before you’ve given us a chance. I’m not going to stop loving you, no matter how frightened you are.”

  Then he turned and walked out, his heart heavy with dre
ad.

  Hoping to heaven she’d stop him.

  But she did not.

  Chapter Six

  “Testing, testing…1…2…3…Is this thing on, son?”

  Harley Sykes’s voice boomed out from the radio Ruby kept in the kitchen of the diner, and Jeanette covered her ears. “Henry!”

  Grinning widely, Henry crossed the kitchen at a run and twisted the volume dial. His gaze met Brenda’s. She was smiling broadly, too. “This ought to be fun.”

  “What did you say?” Harley’s voice was slightly lower. “Oh, goodnight, nurse. There’s too many blasted dials and switches.”

  Scarlett looked up from her chopping, eyes twinkling. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, Nana.”

  “Two damned old fools,” Ruby muttered. “They’re not doing their broadcast from here. Ever.”

  “Um…this is Arnold Howard from your hometown radio station, KSST, Sweetgrass Springs, Texas, 1470 on your AM dial. This first broadcast is dedicated to the love of my life, Ruby Gallagher Howard. I waited nigh onto twenty years for her, and it was worth every second.”

  In the pause, Ruby’s cheeks reddened even as she muttered, “Blasted sentimental old fool.”

  Scarlett knew better, though. She could see the answering pleasure in her grandmother’s eyes. “I think that’s sweet.”

  “Whole silly idea is a mistake,” Ruby muttered.

  Scarlett only smiled.

  “Your turn, Harley,” Arnie said.

  “What? Oh—Melba. Right. Melba, darlin’, your chicken fried steak may not come close to Ruby’s, but you make a mean sweet potato pie.”

  Jeanette snickered into the silence. Ruby shook her head.

  “Harley better not plan to go home tonight,” said Ian from the doorway.

  Scarlett turned to see both Ian and his brother Michael entering the rear. Michael had returned to town more subdued than the man who’d left, but he didn’t want to discuss what was bothering him.

  She wondered if it had to do with the woman he’d mentioned only briefly.

  He was smiling right at this moment, however.

  “So this here is our maiden broadcast of the Enigma Games Trading Post, sponsored by our very own Jackson Gallagher. We thought our very first item ought to be something special, but it’s a big decision to make. Arnie and me don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, after all.”