It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel)

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It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel) Page 18

by Shelly Alexander


  “Am I hurting you?” she murmured against his chest, her voice laden with satisfaction and sleep.

  “Uh-uh. Nothing you do to me hurts, sweetheart.”

  She smiled against his skin.

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “I like sweetheart and baby a lot better than Cinderella.”

  His hand stilled against her head. “You knew?”

  “I’m not stupid, Coop.”

  No, Ella definitely wasn’t stupid. “I’m sorry.”

  She feathered soft kisses over his chest. “So am I. It takes two, and I wasn’t very nice to you, either.”

  “I’m still a screwup,” he said, because it was true. With any luck, his legal problems might go away soon, but his situation was still in shambles. His life back in Albuquerque was gone. No business left, no condo, and no friends. So why was he so anxious to get back there when everything he needed was right here?

  “Coop.” Her body tensed and went rigid against him. “Maybe we should share our secrets. You know, so we both know what we’re getting into.”

  Right. How bad could Ella’s secrets be? Cheating on a college exam? Skipping to the end of one of her nonfiction history books to read the ending first? No way was he walking into that open field of land mines. What happened in his past could stay in his past.

  He grasped her chin and angled her mouth up to his. Kissed her rough and hard, until her breath quickened and she whimpered. He broke the kiss. “I don’t want to hear about the past.” He bit at her lower lip just firmly enough to elicit a tiny moan. “Right now, I just want to hear you whispering into my ear again.”

  His mouth covered hers with a deep, urgent kiss, and she did what he asked. Until late into the night.

  Coop rode in the passenger seat of his dad’s truck on the way to Doc Holloway’s office. He flexed his hand and looked at the stitches that’d held a six-inch jagged gash together. “I’m glad these are coming out today. Thanks for taking me to the doctor.”

  “I figured Ella could use a break. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about the situation.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Dad. The Lumberjack Brigade got their revenge. I doubt they’ll be back.”

  “You’re probably right, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” Butch scratched his chin. He tossed one wrist over the steering wheel of his Ford F-150. “It’s none of my business, but you know, son, Ella’s not the casual relationship type.”

  Coop stared straight ahead. “You’re right. It’s not your business.”

  “Then humor me. I’m your old man, that should count for something.”

  “What gave us away?” Coop asked.

  “You mean besides the half dozen boxes of condoms Ella bought at the pharmacy this week?” Butch’s forehead wrinkled.

  “She tried to be discreet.” Coop was actually a little embarrassed. Wow.

  “Right, in Red River?”

  Coop laughed.

  “It wasn’t just that. It’s the way you two look at each other and the vortex that swirls around you when you’re within a mile of each other.” Butch shook his head and smiled. “Never seen anything like it.”

  Coop inhaled. “Ella’s . . . different.”

  Butch nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I’m worried about her getting hurt.”

  Coop turned to study his father. “You’re worried about her? Thanks, Dad.” His dad had no idea. No freaking idea of how much Coop cared about her. How much he’d tried not to. How scared he was that she’d eventually leave him. And how much it hurt when she’d recoiled in the urgent care emergency center, not wanting anyone to know they were sleeping together.

  “Shouldn’t I be? Your track record isn’t the greatest where women are concerned.”

  Coop just sat and stewed, because his dad just hit the target at a hundred paces.

  “Look, I don’t want to be a jerk—”

  “Too late,” Coop inserted, and Butch looked annoyed.

  “I’m your father, and I love you. But, I loved Bradley, too, just like he was my son. Ella was loyal, and she loved him.”

  “I know, Dad,” Coop said, because Christ, he was terrified that he could never fill Bradley’s shoes, that he’d always be an alternate who won by default because the better man died. That she’d never love him as much as she loved Bradley.

  “She was a good wife to him.”

  “You should know, Dad, you had enough wives of your own.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. Ella’s been through enough. She’s still vulnerable.”

  Coop raised an eyebrow at his dad. “Are we talking about the same woman? You did see her drop a guy twice her size without breaking a nail, right?”

  “She doesn’t need more heartbreak and bad memories to carry around. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Coop studied his dad. Nope. Not a clue that Ella had complete power over him and his happiness. If Butch had looked out for any one of his extensive collection of wives the way he was looking out for Ella, maybe he’d still be married to one of them.

  Coop pinched the bridge of his nose. Butch had no freaking idea that Ella’s heart wasn’t the one in danger of being broken. Coop had to give his dad credit, though. He was concerned for Ella. Coop wasn’t one of Albuquerque’s most eligible bachelors anymore, and Ella could do a whole lot better.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I really care about her. Much more than any other woman I’ve been with.” He inhaled. “It’s different with her.”

  They drove in silence until the Red River city limits sign came into view.

  “It was the strangest thing, you know, when the car started to spin. Like it was happening in slow motion.” Coop stared out the window at Wheeler Peak. “The sky and clouds reflected off the hood, moving when the car spun, and it seemed so slow, like I had all day to just sit and stare at it.” He paused.

  “Were you scared?” Butch finally asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, but not for the reasons you might think. Later when I thought about it, the reasons surprised even me.” He inhaled, deep and ragged. “I was scared I wouldn’t see Ella again. Most of all, I was scared of leaving her behind, of putting her through that kind of grief again.”

  His dad chuckled, and Coop shot him a disgusted look.

  “You think that’s funny, Dad?”

  Butch shook his head. “Nope. I think you’re in love.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Get on the bed, and lie on your stomach.”

  Coop lifted a coy brow. Ella got more interesting with each passing day, revealing a new unexpected layer like an onion. He liked onions. Sweet and spicy at the same time. And tasty.

  “Really?” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I’ve fantasized about this since I saw you in that soaking wet white sundress.”

  “Very funny.” Ella pushed at his chest and held up a bottle of therapeutic massage oil. “Your dad says you need this for your shoulders and neck every day to relieve the muscle spasms from the accident.”

  “But you’re not a massage therapist. Maybe you should lie down and I’ll give the massage.” He tugged at the fitted V-neck T-shirt that clung to every one of her curves.

  “Take off your shirt,” Ella commanded, swatting his hand away from her.

  He sighed with resignation. “Alright. I can think of worse things than you rubbing massage oil all over me while I’m half-naked.” Pulling his T-shirt over his head, he tossed it toward Atlas and Winston, who cuddled over a floor vent. “You’re not trained in the art of massage therapy, and you’re not exactly a bodybuilder.” He squeezed one of her slender biceps. “So I doubt it’ll be very effective.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The galled tone of her voice startled him, and his eyes snapped to hers. “Uh, I mean deep tissue massage takes a lot of upper body strength
. You’re petite. And beautiful.” She still glared at him. “And perfect?”

  “Face. Down.” Ella pointed to the bed. “Now.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Coop fell onto the bed and turned onto his stomach. Ella climbed onto the bed after him. “Your dad said you might say something stupid like that, so he gave me a few pointers.” Throwing one leg over his buttocks, she straddled him, anchoring him into the mattress with her weight.

  “I like this already,” he said, his words muffled against the bed quilt.

  “And he gave me this.” From under the pillow, Ella produced a four-pronged massage tool. “He said it’s very . . . effective on trigger point muscle spasms.”

  Lifting his head as much as Ella’s weight would allow, he saw the torture device in her hand. “Oh, no you don’t.” He tried to flip over, but she clamped him between her legs. “Come on, Ella, that thing hurts.”

  “I’ll be gentle. I promise.” Under her breath she added, “Unless you insult my biceps again.” She flipped open the bottle and poured warm oil onto his back. It seeped across his skin like liquid velvet.

  After smoothing the oil across every inch of his exposed skin, she set to work on his neck and shoulders. Her touch wasn’t as novice as he’d thought it would be, and she used her index fingers and thumbs to work along each gravelly muscle. One by one, they released, the tension ebbing like an ocean tide going out.

  “You okay?” Ella asked as her two thumbs pressed into the flesh on each side of his spine, inching downward at a pace that might take her a month to finally reach the last vertebra. Which was fine by him, because he couldn’t remember ever getting a massage this good.

  “I’m excellent, actually,” he murmured, his words lazy, and his eyes closed. “You’re much better at this than I thought you’d be. How’d you learn?”

  “You don’t live with a chiropractor without learning a few tricks of the trade.”

  Of course. Bradley had taught her. An onslaught of guilt washed through him, because Coop was now the lucky recipient of those talented hands in more ways than one.

  Her fingers reached the top of his jeans, and he really wished he’d disposed of those along with the T-shirt. Her thumbs began to spiral outward in circular motions across his back and rib cage.

  “Damn, woman, that feels good,” Coop managed to groan out.

  Ella laughed that deep, hearty laugh that made his chest fill with contentment every time he heard it.

  “Are you ready for the trigger point work?” She reached for the torture device his dad loved so much.

  Still pinned facedown on the bed, Coop managed to reach behind him and grab her wrist. “Later.” Before she knew what he was doing, he pulled her down next to him and rolled her onto her back. “Right now I have a chronic spasm in a whole different location that needs attention.”

  Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked bashfully. “Oh, really? Where would that be?”

  Grabbing one of those very talented hands of hers, Coop lowered it to the mound of pulsating flesh below his waist. Her eyes flared.

  “Oh! That is quite a spasm you have there. But we’re not finished with the treatment your dad prescribed.”

  “Consider it a therapeutic massage of a different nature.” He tugged on the V-neck of her T-shirt, and a rosy peak greeted him. He took it between two fingers and worked it.

  A shudder rolled through Ella’s petite frame, and she arched against him.

  “You’re . . . definitely better at this kind of therapy than I am.” Her words were almost a gasp.

  He leaned forward so his warm breath caressed the sensitive skin of her breast. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Grabbing the neckline with his teeth, he pulled it down until both nipples strained eagerly toward him.

  He ground his hips against her. “As I’m sure you can feel, you’ve done more than an adequate job for a novice.”

  She swallowed, the rise and fall of her chest rapid and urgent.

  When he captured one hardened nipple with his mouth and suckled, she bucked against him, a small cry rolling off her lips. He tugged on her Nike running shorts, easing them down over her hips until they were gone. Flexing and releasing his fingers down her thigh and up again, her skin felt like soft cashmere under his touch. Soft, pliant, rich, and unattainable. Yet she was his, and his alone. Somehow the mountain gods had decided to smile on him, even though he didn’t deserve it.

  He ran a flattened palm under her T-shirt and up her torso, but her bra obstructed his mission. “Take this off,” he said, biting at her lip. “Or would you prefer I tear it off?”

  Her lush eyelashes fluttered down, and she teased him with a come-hither smile. “You wouldn’t.”

  Arching a brow, he grasped the V neckline with both fists.

  “Wait!” She grabbed at his hands. “This shirt is brand-new.”

  “Then lose it. Now,” he commanded, but his mouth twitched.

  She raised to pull the shirt and sports bra over her head.

  After discarding his own jeans, he moved on top of her, and a quake of lustful anticipation shimmied through her from the top of that auburn head all the way down to her pretty little painted toes. He felt her tremor of ecstasy against his skin as it washed down her length like a gentle ocean wave, and a sudden urge to follow the same path forced his mouth on a downward path.

  He explored each lush breast and the valley between with expert precision, and the taste of her was utterly exquisite, like drinking fine brandy in front of a fire. Smooth and satisfying as its warmth spread through him, reaching every bit of tissue in his body.

  Her breaths became urgent as his hands and mouth explored her body; her hands clutching, grabbing, lacing through his hair. Soft moans of pleasure escaped her every time his tongue touched a new spot.

  He descended lower, his lips and tongue and teeth nipping at the quivering flesh that molded to his touch. Each rib was visible under her creamy white skin, and he traced every one with care and loving attention as her breaths grew more rapid.

  Ella clawed at his shoulder, trying to pull him up. “Make love to me.” Her voice was an urgent plea, disoriented. Desperate.

  Oh, he planned to make love to her, but first he wanted to please her in a different way. He sank lower, finding that perfect spot with his warm kiss that made her utter incoherent words, disjointed sounds, and syllables that begged him to take her.

  When Ella clutched the bed quilt in both hands and arched toward him, a violent climax rolling through her, he pulled himself up and looked into her eyes, dark and glazed with lust. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to tell her how he felt, what she meant to him, how she was amazing, and different than any other woman he’d been with, and that she made him feel different, too. But his throat closed, and his brain whirred like an outdated hard drive, and he could only think to do exactly what she had begged of him a few minutes ago.

  And so he did. When he sank into her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and they rode the wave of bliss together fast and hard until they both lay sated and dewy, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  The landline jarred Ella from her satisfied slumber. Oh, jeez, was she drooling on Coop’s chest? Clamping her mouth shut, she swiped at her chin, and then dabbed at Coop’s chest gently so he wouldn’t wake. She tried to clear her muddled brain, still dazed from their lovemaking.

  Coop snored lightly, his cappuccino-colored hair all mussed and sexy. Man, oh man, he really was good at this sex thing. She’d never experienced so many . . . and such savage org—

  The landline sneered at her again.

  She unwound Coop’s arms from around her shoulder and waist, and he stirred.

  “I’ll get it.” Ella brushed a light kiss across his lips.

  “Tell whoever it is we’re busy.” Coop never opened his eyes.

  Ella chuckled. />
  Rolling onto his side, Coop snuggled into the pillow, his gentle snore returning instantly.

  She fumbled around for her clothes while the phone continued to ring. Finally she pulled on her pink lace panties and Coop’s T-shirt, because her shirt was lost in the melee of clothes Coop kept scattered around his room. If she was going to keep sleeping in here, she was really going to have to clean it for him, whether he liked it or not.

  Her bare feet skittered across the cool floor, and she grabbed the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “What took so long, Isabella?” Her sister’s snappish tone clawed at her ear like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Charlene? Is something wrong?”

  “No,” Charlene said, clearly annoyed. “Can’t I call my little sister once in a while?”

  “Um, sure. What’s up?” Okay. Awkwaaaaard. Because Charlene wasn’t the Chatty Cathy type, especially with Ella.

  “Same ol’, same ol’.” Charlene yawned like she was bored. “The ranch is bustling right now, so we’re either workin’ or sleepin’ all day, every day.”

  “How are the kids?” asked Ella. She loved to hear about her nieces and nephews.

  “Royce is doing two-a-days to get ready for football season. This is his last year of high school, ya know. And Kendra’s got cheer practice nearly every day, so I hardly see either of them anymore.” Charlene’s voice shook a little. “Kendra says she’s serious about movin’ away to go to college.”

  And for the first time . . . well, ever . . . Charlene didn’t mention Ella moving back to East Texas.

  Ella softened her voice. “Then let her go, Charlene.”

  “I can make her stay here to go to college the way mom and dad did us. I can refuse to pay for it if she moves away.”

  “And look how well that worked out. I moved anyway.”

  “But why, Isabella? That’s what I can’t understand. Why would you want to leave your home and your family? Why aren’t we good enough?”

  Dragging in a breath, Ella’s heart squeezed a little. “Oh, Char. That has nothing to do with it. I love you, and I miss you every single day. But I wanted a little adventure, something different. I wanted to experience just a little sliver of the world outside of the ranch.”

 

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