IT’S SATURDAY night at the Bronco, and Leanne, Ronny, and Colin have all come in along with Jenny Turner and Mike, who are in town for a few days this week. Ronny doesn’t drink, but the rest of them do, and I’ve made quite a few trips to their table this evening. Leanne and Jenny are gigglers, both of them with pinker-than-usual cheeks and very sparkly eyes. Ronny’s getting a kick out of Leanne with a buzz. Living on a dry ranch, she doesn’t drink very often, so she’s a cheap date, as they say.
Mike’s probably the biggest drinker of the group, but even he usually stops after a few. Tonight though they’re celebrating his engagement to Jenny, and he’s doing it in style. He’s ordered a round for the entire bar and bought the whole table steak dinners—except for Colin, who has baked beans, Texas toast, french fries, and a very big salad. Now Mike’s asked if he and Jenny can go up onstage and play a little for everyone.
“What’d Jimmy say?” he asks as he grabs my belt loop when I walk by their table.
“He said fine, but he’s not paying you, so don’t ask.”
Mike laughs before trying to put on a serious face, which makes Jenny giggle more. “Okay, Red. We got it. No money. We won’t send the musicians’ union after him or anything.”
I roll my eyes and unhook his finger, which he’s forgotten and left in my belt loop. “Good. There’s that old guitar in the back if you need it, and you know where the switch for the sound system is.”
He salutes me and wobbles to his feet, closely followed by Jenny, who wraps her arms around his waist as they make their way to the area behind the small stage.
“Is he really able to play right now?” I ask Ronny, Leanne, and Colin.
Colin is watching his glass of beer with a great deal of concentration, and Leanne’s giggling as Ronny nuzzles her neck and whispers things to her.
“Hell yeah,” Colin says, looking up at me. “Trust me, he’s played when he was way more toasted than this.”
“Toasted.” Leanne giggles. “Do you know how many ways there are to say ‘drunk’? Let’s think of them all.”
Ronny chuckles and kisses her on the cheek. “Ah, baby, I should let you tie one on more often. You really are funny as hell.”
I stop shaking my head at their nonsense when a guitar strums from onstage. Mike is sitting on a stool with Jenny standing behind him, her hand massaging his shoulder. She has a mic in her other hand, and she starts singing “Who You Love” by John Mayer without any introduction.
Colin stands up suddenly and lifts the tray from my hand. Before I can protest, he sets it on the table and grabs my hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to dance,” he answers.
“I’m working, Colin. I can’t just stop and dance.”
“Yeah, you can.” He puts his other hand on the small of my back and exerts pressure, directing me to the small dance floor where a few couples have already started swaying to Mike and Jenny’s beautiful music.
As we step on the dance floor, Colin grasps my hands and puts them around his neck before he places his at my waist. He looks down at me and he’s so serious.
“You work too much,” he tells me softly.
“Well, I have a kid to feed. If Jeff ever gets out, he’ll have to pay child support, but for now, it’s all up to me.”
“Will that happen any time soon? Him getting out?”
He pulls me a smidgeon closer into his embrace and my chest tightens, making it hard to breathe and speak at the same time. His hands have now worked around to my back, and he rests them on the swell right above my ass. It feels so natural and right that it scares me to death.
“He’s up for parole in a couple of months, actually. I have no idea if he’ll get it though.”
He doesn’t answer that, only keeps swaying with me, gradually pulling me closer until my head is resting on his chest and I feel his warm skin beneath his T-shirt. His heart beats under my ear and mine matches its rhythm, pulse for pulse, expanding and contracting in unison.
The song ends and I try to pull away.
“No,” he says, his voice rough and low. “Stay with me for a bit.”
I sigh, my stomach flipping at how incredibly sexy he sounds. As I settle back in his arms, Jenny and Mike start up another ballad and Colin’s head lowers. He inhales deeply when his nose touches my hair. Then he nuzzles further, along my neck. His heated breath skates across the sensitive skin there, and I can’t help but sigh in ecstasy.
“I can’t stop wanting you,” he whispers into my ear. “I dream about you—about us—all the damn time.”
I swallow, not knowing what to say.
He plants tender, tiny kisses along the side of my neck, from my shoulder to my earlobe. A deep, dark ache settles between my legs, and I lean into him more, breathing in the scent of his laundry detergent and skin. I’ve never smelled anything sweeter.
We stay like that, both afraid to do anything that would break the magic bubble we’ve found ourselves in. But then the song ends and Jenny moves into a cover of a Miranda Lambert song, the beat picking up and Mike howling like an idiot as he digs into a twangy guitar solo.
Colin pulls away slightly. “Come outside with me for a minute.”
I’m so drunk off the smell and feel of him that all I can do is nod. He holds my hand and leads me off the floor to the back door of the bar. We step into the damp night air, surrounded by the parking lot and the quiet of a small town after ten p.m.
Before I know what’s happening he’s pressed me against the hard wall of the building, caging me in with his forearms alongside my head. He leans in and breathes against my hair and neck again.
“You smell like honey,” he growls. “God, I want to lick every inch of you.”
“We can’t do this,” I pant as he starts to make good on his wish.
His tongue travels up my neck, landing on my ear where he nibbles on my lobe with abandon. I’m moaning now, every nerve in my body alight with heat and excitement.
He runs his tongue along my jaw and then puts a small kiss on the corner of my lips.
“You’re even more beautiful than you were ten years ago,” he whispers.
Then he kisses me full on the mouth and my entire world stops, frozen in a moment so intensely beautiful it brings actual tears to my eyes. I know he’s had too much to drink, but Colin’s lips against mine, his tongue seeking entry to my mouth, his hands flirting with the undersides of my breasts, his hips pressed to mine, makes my core hurt there’s so much need inside.
I moan, and time unfreezes, his onslaught picking up pace as our heavy breaths and moans become louder. He cups my sex with one hand while cradling my jaw with the other, and I arch into his grasp, rocking against his hand.
“Jesus,” he pants. “So good. It’s never been like this with anyone else.”
I’m literally about to come only from the pressure of his hand on the outside of my jeans. My heart is racing, and all I can think is more, harder, deeper. He skates a palm across one of my nipples and I can’t help but cry out at the sharp shock of sensation.
“Oh!”
“I want to make you come. Let me do it,” he whispers in my ear.
I nod and he moves his hand to the waistband of my jeans. He unbuttons them, and he has his fingers on the zipper when the door next to us swings open and Jimmy’s voice blasts into the darkness.
“Marsha? You out here?”
Colin leaps back from me, yanking down my T-shirt at the same time. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
I clear my throat, trying to straighten my shirt so it’ll cover the open button of my pants. “Yeah, I’m right here, Jim.”
He looks around the edge of the door at us, the light from inside illuminating his face as he tries to school it into a neutral expression. “Uh, sorry, I was worried. I didn’t know you were both out here.” He scratches his head awkwardly.
Colin picks up my hand. “It’s cool. We were talking for a minute. She can have a short b
reak, right?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll uh…” Jimmy’s voice fades as he points inside. Before he steps back in, he gives me a look clearly asking if everything’s all right.
I nod and then he’s gone. I breathe a sigh of relief and try to remove my hand from Colin’s.
“Not so fast,” he says, pulling me toward him. “I’m not done with you yet.”
I shake my head. “We can’t do this. We shouldn’t have been doing that, I mean. I have to get back to work.”
“Come on.” His voice is pleading and seductive, and he’s leaning in toward my neck again
. I don’t have the willpower to resist another sniff-and-nuzzle session, so I step away. “What are we doing here?”
“Giving in to what we both want,” he answers so simply.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” His eyes are soft and magnetic. It’s hard to resist him, and I can tell by the way his lips tilt that he knows I’m a sucker for his powers of persuasion.
“This is too confusing for me. I can’t do this stuff with you and not feel things.”
“I feel things too.” He brushes a stray lock of hair off of my forehead. “I feel all kinds of really good things.”
I swallow, inhale, and steel my resolve. “It’s not those feelings that scare me,” I tell him as I sidestep his attempt at backing me into the wall again. “I can’t do this and keep my heart safe. Not with you.”
“I’ll keep your heart safe.”
I look at him and I know he really believes that. Colin is always brutally honest. He would never lie to me to get laid. He thinks he won’t do something like he did before—won’t leave me all alone—but he can’t promise that. All I have to go on is experience, and in my experience, Colin Douglas isn’t a good risk.
“No,” I choke out. “This can’t happen.” I reach for the door to go back inside.
“I can’t walk away, Marsha. Not now. We’re going to figure this out once and for all. There’s too much still here to let it go. I won’t live another ten years without you.”
I can’t imagine how we can ever be fixed. No matter what he thinks, the only choice for us is to let this die like we did all those years ago. No matter how much we want each other, it isn’t meant to be, and the sooner Colin realizes that, the better for all of us.
I shake my head, my back to him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You’re going to have to.” Then I walk inside the bar.
Chapter Seven
Colin
AFTER MARSHA sends me packing I need to take some sort of action. I’m buzzed, I’m horny, and I’m pissed. Once Mike and Jenny finish up their impromptu performance, I pull him aside.
“It’s time,” I tell him.
“For what?” he asks, slapping Jenny on the ass as she weaves her way back to our table.
“I’m invoking bro status.”
“Shit. Now?” he asks, looking longingly at his fiancée as she bends over the table to say something in Leanne’s ear.
“Yes, now. Come on. We’ve got something to do.”
He shakes his head and follows me back to our seats. “Fuck,” he mutters.
I can’t help but smile to myself.
IT’S NEARLY pitch dark, only a sliver of moon showing in the clear night sky. Mike has sobered up some, but he’s still too damn noisy for what we’re doing.
“You’re sure the fucker’s not going to tear a piece out of one of us?” he whispers as he clips another row of the chain link fence before squeezing through the gap he’s created.
“Do I know animals?” I ask, pausing to listen to the darkness around us after I slip in after him.
“Yeah, well, you can go first, then.”
I roll my eyes and start walking quietly toward the old shed at the far corner of the yard.
The place is about an acre, mostly raw dirt. An old trailer at the back edge of the property has one weak porch light and is otherwise dark. There’s a pile of chopped wood leaning up against the side, and an ancient pickup truck is randomly parked at a diagonal to the trailer.
We head to our left, where a shed about six-feet-square is built like a lean-to against the eight-foot-high chain link fence. As we get closer, I hear a low rumble, and a pair of eyes glow in the light reflecting from the trailer.
Mike stops, frozen in place, his arm darting out to touch my elbow.
“It’s okay, man. I got it,” I tell him. “I’m prepared this time. I can handle him.” I reach into my pocket and remove a piece of stew meat. It’s raw and it grosses me out to be touching it, but it’s necessary. Big boy here isn’t a vegetarian, and that’s not going to change.
“Hey, Chet,” I say softly as I crouch down. “How’d you like some of this?”
The big shepherd moves closer, his nose sniffing the air excitedly. Then I see that he’s leaning at me but not able to get to me. He’s on a fucking chain. So I inch forward, the meat held out in front of me. As soon as I’m close enough, I place it on the ground, and he puts his head down and gobbles it.
“I’m going to need your help,” I whisper to Mike.
“I knew it. I knew I’d get roped into more than just cutting some wire. So help me, if we get arrested I’m never going to forgive you. We’ll wish they’d put us in lockup after Jenny gets ahold of us.”
Chet is still straining on his leash, sniffing frantically, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth. I lift another chunk of meat from my pocket and experiment with laying it flat in my hand. He’s not gentle, but he doesn’t bite me as he grabs it. While he’s chewing, I put my hand out toward his neck, but he snarls in warning.
“Sorry, dude. I need your help.”
“Fine.” Mike steps closer until he’s next to me, watching Chet chow down.
“I’ll keep giving him meat, but I need you to unchain him while he’s distracted.”
Mike nods.
“You ready?” I ask, putting my hand into my pocket again.
He nods again.
I give Chet a new piece of meat and talk to him at the same time. When he feels Mike pulling on the chain he growls quietly, but I interrupt and distract him.
“Hey, buddy. Right here. You want some more? You like the dead cow, don’t you?”
Mike has the chain off now, and I grab the leash that’s looped around my neck and hand it to him. I give Chet another chunk of meat and keep talking, even singing a little bit of “She Snake,” a Lush song, which seems to be most effective.
“Okay, I’ve got it.” Mike hands me the leash.
I stand slowly. Chet looks up at me eagerly as I pull out a few pieces of cat food that I stole from Mrs. S.
“Good. Let’s go then. You ready?” I say to Chet as I hold my hand at my side.
Chet responds by barking enthusiastically. Fuck.
“Shh.” Mike tenses next to me.
But it’s too late. The lights in the trailer flip on and the screen door squeaks as it swings open.
“Who the hell’s out there?” old man Romine shouts. “You’d better show yourselves or you’re going to meet my dog and my Remington!”
Mike and I look at one another as Chet tries to shove his nose in my pocket to get more cat food.
“Ready?” Mike asks.
“Fucking run,” I answer.
And we do.
Thirty minutes later, Mike’s lying on the sofa in Mrs. S.’s basement, strumming his guitar. I’m sitting on the floor while Chet lies next to me, snoring.
“Damn, I though that second shot he fired was going to hit one of us for sure,” Mike says.
“Dude, he was so loaded he couldn’t have hit the broadside of a barn much less us a hundred yards away in the dark.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re probably right. It sure seemed like it was close at the time.”
“No shit. I swear I heard one whiz by my ear, but it was probably a mosquito.”
Mike cracks up, and Chet shifts, putting his paw on my leg.
; “So, what are you going to do with him? Mrs. S.’s cat isn’t going to like having a dog here.”
“I’ll keep him with me. He can come out to the ranch and hang out in my truck. Mrs. S. loves me, we’ll work it out.”
“You think he’s trustworthy? Like he’s not going to attack someone?”
I look at the big brute, who probably weighs in at over a hundred pounds. Under his thick, matted fur, he’s too thin, and he has scars on both ears, sores on the skin of his belly, and a tooth that looks like it needs to come out. It turns my stomach, and it’s why I knew I had to get him away from the old bastard who was terrorizing him.
“You know, he’s probably always going to be a little sketchy, but if I get him healthy, work with him every day, and know his triggers—like crowds or other dogs or whatever—I think he can be totally trustworthy. Shepherds are really loyal and family-oriented. He needs a pack to care for. I’ll give him that and he’ll be happy.”
Mike strings together a few chords of “Little Black Submarines” by the Black Keys. “So,why’d you do this?” he asks casually.
I snort. “That should be pretty obvious.”
“Yeah, I know you’ve been worried about the dog since the sheriff told us about the abuse, but there’s more going on here. You were too desperate. This means something more to you. And since I helped you steal the damn mutt, you owe me.”
I look over my shoulder at him. His face is passive, his attention focused on the strings as he plays a complicated scale up and down two octaves, his fingers flying like a flamenco guitarist. He’s right. I owe him.
I clear my throat, absentmindedly stroking Chet’s thick fur. “I’m looking for my compassion.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I lost it in Tulsa, Oklahoma ten years ago. It’s time I found it and put it to a use other than doing benefit concerts and signing petitions—shit that’s so removed from the actual suffering in the world I might as well only be writing checks.”
A Lush Reunion Page 7
