THE RESTLESS VIRGIN

by Peggy Moreland

  Stepping back, he drew his hands to her elbows, and their gazes met in the moonlight and he nearly lost himself in the depths of brown eyes brimming with compassion. Her hair draped one shoulder and blew in wisps across her cheek. He caught the stray locks and tucked them behind her ear. In the moonlight, he could see the stain of pink on her cheeks, feel the tremble of nerves beneath her skin.

  "Are you okay?" she whispered softly.

  "Yeah," he said on a sigh. "At least, now I am. Thank you."

  "Was it bad?" she asked hesitantly.

  Sighing again, he shifted, keeping a hand on one of her elbows as he guided her back to the porch. "Let's just say it wasn't anything I want to repeat anytime soon. Where's Colby?"

  "Asleep. For about an hour," she added. He looked so miserable and so exhausted, Sam wanted desperately to do something for him. "Have you eaten? Can I get you anything?"

  "A beer sure would taste good right now."

  "I'll get you one. Wait here." Sam disappeared into the house and returned moments later. Nash sat on the steps and Sam sank down beside him, passing him the cold bottle.

  "Thanks," he murmured before tipping it up and taking a long swig. He sighed and set the beer aside. "I don't think I've ever done anything harder in my life," he said miserably.

  Unable to resist, Sam closed her hand over his and squeezed. "Oh, Nash, I'm so sorry."

  He squinted up at the moon. "Yeah, me, too."

  Sam saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes and had to swallow back the lump of emotion that rose in her throat. "What did you say to her?"

  "Basically, I just told her that there wouldn't be a birthday party tonight, or any other night."

  "How did she accept the news?"

  "Not well. She cried." He shook his head and turned his hand over to lace his fingers with Sam's. The gesture was an unconscious one, but he clung to her like a drowning man would a lifeline. "She blamed me. Told me that it was my fault that Stacy had died. Said that if I hadn't gotten her pregnant, then she'd be alive today."

  "Oh, Nash," Sam murmured. "That's not fair."

  "Fair or not, it's the truth." His fingers tightened on hers. He stared out into the darkness, his face a mask of raw pain. "I was the one who planted the seed. It's only natural that Nina would blame me."

  "But you couldn't have known that she'd die having the baby," Sam argued.

  "But I did know." He sighed, his shoulders drooping under the weight of the guilt Nina had heaped on him.

  "The doctors had warned us from the beginning that Stacy shouldn't have children. But she wouldn't listen. She was determined to have a baby. So she quit taking her birth-control pills."

  "Did you know she was doing this?"

  "No. Not until it was too late. I begged her to have an abortion. Because of her diabetes, the doctors would have performed one. But she refused."

  "Nash, it isn't your fault," Sam told him firmly. "Stacy made the decision, not you."

  "Yeah, but try telling Nina that."

  Sam didn't have a reply. She'd met Nina, seen the depth of her love for her daughter. It would be easier for her to place the blame of Stacy's death on someone, anyone, rather than where it belonged … with her daughter.

  Nash's shoulder moved against hers in a sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be involving you in this."

  "You have nothing to apologize for. I involved myself when I told you about the party Nina had planned."

  "Yes, but—"

  She squeezed his hand, silencing him. "Colby is the most important person here. We have to concern ourselves with her best interests."

  Nash stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. He'd never met a woman so unselfish, so compassionate. "You are one hell of a woman," he murmured.

  Sam swallowed hard, dropping her gaze. "No, I'm—"

  He tucked a knuckle beneath her chin and forced her face back to his. Friendship? Is that what he had told himself he would give her? No harm in that, he remembered thinking. But at the moment, friendship was the last thing on his mind. "You are one hell of a woman," he repeated softly.

  He was going to kiss her. Sam could see the intent in his eyes, in the way his tongue moved slowly around his lips to moisten them, in the increased pressure of his fingers on her hand. Could she do it? she wondered desperately. Could she kiss him? Oh, God, how she wanted to! A shiver moved down her spine and she closed her eyes, tipping her face to his, determined to try.

  His lips were butterfly-light as they brushed hers the first time. Velvety-smooth as they finally settled over hers. She trembled, bracing herself for the familiar panic, but instead the most glorious sensations spun through her head and swirled to every extremity. He shifted, angling his body, and his knee bumped hers, the pressure only adding to the sensations already churning inside her.

  Lips, knees, their fingers still joined. The knuckle beneath her chin. Those were the only parts of their bodies that touched, but every nerve in Sam's body burned as if he'd completely covered her. Slowly he shifted the knuckle from beneath her chin, opening his hand to cup her jaw. His touch was gentle, almost tender and Sam felt tears burn behind her closed lids. Before she could stop them, one slipped onto her cheek, quickly followed by another.

  Nash felt the moisture on his hand and pulled back, ending the kiss. He thumbed a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

  "No," Sam denied. "It's not your fault. It's—" But how could she explain to him that the tears weren't of regret, but of joy to know that she could kiss him without feeling repulsed, without remembering that awful night.

  "Daddy?"

  Sam and Nash both turned to find Colby standing in the open door behind them, rubbing sleepily at her eyes. The hem of the T-shirt Sam had given her to sleep in drooped to below her knees and the sleeves hung to her elbows.

  Immediately, Nash was on his feet, hauling his daughter up into his arms. "Hey, there, sweetheart. I thought you were asleep."

  "I was, but I woke up." She yawned hugely, wrapping her arms around her daddy's neck and resting her head on his shoulder. "Are we going home now?" she murmured.

  "Yes, sweetheart. We're going home." Nash looked at Sam over the top of his daughter's head.

  Was that regret in his eyes? Sam wondered. And if it was, was the regret because he had kissed her, or because they had been interrupted? Slowly, unsure of herself, she rose, too, lifting a hand to smooth Colby's tangled hair.

  "Do you still want us to come for a lesson on Friday?" he asked uncertainly.

  Relief flooded through Sam. "Yes," she replied, then leaned to press a kiss on Colby's cheek. "Sleep tight, cowgirl," she whispered. Another set of lips, male and oh so warm, touched her own cheek. She glanced up to see Nash smiling softly down at her.

  "Good night, Sam," he whispered. "And thanks for everything."

  Stuffing her hands into her jeans pockets, Sam took a step back and watched as Nash carried Colby to his car.

  She lifted a hand in an absent wave while her heart threatened to pound a hole in her chest. "'Night," she called after them. And if her voice was a little breathless, Sam couldn't help it.

  She'd finally kissed a man. A handsome man. And she'd survived.

  The lesson on Friday was a disappointment to Sam. Not that the lesson itself hadn't gone well. It had. Colby's riding skills were improving daily. But Sam had looked forward to the lesson as a chance to see Nash again.

  It had been two days since their kiss and she could still feel the impression of his lips on hers, his taste. She wondered if he'd kiss her again if the opportunity presented itself.

  Unfortunately, just before the lesson ended, she'd received a phone call from a neighboring ranch, requesting her veterinary skills in delivering a breech calf.

  And so she'd had to cut the lesson short, leaving Nash and Colby behind when duty called.

  And now it was Saturday, with three long days stretching ahead of her before she'd see him again. With a sigh, Sam hooked the rope over
her saddle horn and swung up into the saddle. But the weekend wouldn't be boring, she reminded herself. They were working calves today on the Double-Cross—castrating bull calves, which promised a calf-fry later that night. And Merideth was due home sometime today for an unexpected, if short, visit. And when Merideth was home, nothing was ever boring.

  Sam chuckled, thinking of her sister, then smooched to her horse, guiding him out of the barn and toward the pen where the calves were already churning up dust. Wranglers, mounted and waiting, circled the pen, talking and laughing. Separating the cattle was work, but also a chance for the cowboys to show off their skills both at roping and cutting. Sam felt her own excitement grow.

  Mandy had opted to work the chutes and was standing with one hand resting lazily on the release bar, her face tipped up to Jesse's, who was sitting astride Judas, the Double-Cross stallion Mandy had hired him to break when Jesse first returned to Texas. Sam felt the slightest twinge of envy at the sight of them. They were happy. Both of them. And the years that had separated them were all but forgotten.

  "Are y'all ready to rodeo?" Sam called out.

  Jesse shot her a grin. "Just waiting on you."

  "Let's get to work then, before the sun burns a hole in my back."

  The cowboys entered the arena in twos, already having drawn straws for partners. Working in teams, they skillfully separated the heifers from the bull calves, sending the heifers down the narrow alley where Mandy caught them in a head chute. Jaime branded them, Gabe gave them their shots, then Mandy set them free into the open pasture.

  They worked for hours, the sun rising higher and higher in the sky and turning the arena into an inferno. Dust rose in clouds, collecting in dark lines on facial creases and working its way into the workers' lungs. Sam helped out where she was needed, but hung back, knowing her work would start when the castrations began.

  "Hi, Sam!"

  Sam glanced over her shoulder to find Colby climbing the fence. Nash stood behind her, peering through the rails. Sam barely recognized him. Gone was the three-piece suit, the starched shirt, the silk tie. Instead, he wore jeans, a T-shirt and boots. Of course the jeans were starched, the boots shined to a mirror finish, and she could swear the T-shirt had been ironed. He even had a gimme hat on his head, advertising John Deere tractors. The overall effect was mouthwatering.

  "Well, hi," she said, finally finding her tongue. "What are y'all doing here today?"

  "I talked Daddy into bringing me so that I could get in some extra practice," Colby piped up, drawing Sam's attention to her.

  "Sorry," Sam said sympathetically. "But I don't have time for a lesson today. We're working cattle."

  "We didn't expect you to give her a lesson," Nash hurried to assure her. "She's just wanting to ride."

  "Oh. Well, that's fine with me. Did you—"

  "Hey, Nash!" Jesse called out as he rode over to the fence to join them. "Are you here to do some roping?"

  Nash returned Jesse's smile. "Actually, I just came out to let Colby ride Whiskey for a while."

  "Chicken," Jesse teased. "Afraid we'll out-rope you?"

  Nash chuckled, hitching his boot along the bottom rail. "You wish. Truth is, I've got to keep an eye on Colby."

  Jesse craned his head around and let out a shrill whistle.

  "Hey, Jaime," he yelled to his son. "You ready for a break?"

  Jaime dropped the branding iron and dragged a hand across his forehead, obviously relieved to escape any more work. "You bet!" he called back, loping toward Jesse.

  "How about you and Colby ride down to the lake and see if you can scare up some fish to go along with our calf fries tonight?"

  Jaime's face spread into a wide grin. Fishing was his favorite pastime. "No problem." He cut a glance at Colby, the look all big-brother bravado. "Can you fish?"

  "No," she replied shyly.

  "That's all right. I can teach you all you need to know. Come on," he called, gesturing for her to follow. "I'll grab my gear and we'll saddle up."

  Jesse grinned down at Nash. "Well, there goes your excuse."

  "I don't have a horse."

  "There's a couple in the barn you can choose from. In fact, my gelding's probably mad as hell that he's missing out on all the fun. Second stall on the right. There's a saddle there, too, and all the tack you'll need." Grinning, he shot Nash a wink. "Cowboy up!" he shouted in challenge and spun his horse around and rode away.

  Nervously, Sam gnawed her lower lip, looking uncertainly at Nash. "You don't have to do this," she murmured.

  Nash looked up at her and smiled. "As a matter of fact, it might be kind of fun to be in a saddle again." Touching a finger to the brim of his cap, he turned and headed for the barn.

  "Oh, Lord," Sam murmured miserably. "He's going to break his neck for sure."

  Sitting astride Jesse's gelding, Nash laid the reins on the horse's neck and picked up the rope, shaking out the loop.

  It had been years since he'd roped anything, but he figured it was like riding a bicycle. You never forgot how.

  Taking a bead on a hitching post near the barn, he circled the loop over his head and let it fly. It hit the ground about two feet short of his target. Chuckling, he mumbled a warning under his breath. "I wouldn't climb on a bicycle any time soon if I were you, Rivers."

  Pulling the rope back in, he wrapped it back into a coil, then shook out the loop. With his eyes fixed on the top of the post, he circled the lasso again and let it fly. It sailed through the air, settling cleanly over the post.

  Proud of his accomplishment, he squeezed his thighs against the horse's side, retrieved his rope and headed for the arena. By the time he got there, he could see that they were done with the heifers and had started on the bull calves.

  Sam waited for him at the gate, her brown eyes filled with concern. That she was worried about him touched Nash, but he was determined not to embarrass her in front of her family. "Ready," he said, smiling. "Give me the rundown on how y'all are doing this."

  "Well," Sam said uncertainly. "We work in twos, with one heading and one heeling. You do know what heading and heeling are, don't you?"

  "The header ropes the calf's head, the heeler, its hind legs. Right?" he asked, shooting her a teasing grin.

  Sam heaved a relieved sigh. At least he knew the lingo. "Yeah. That's right. Since everyone else already has a partner, I guess you'll be mine. Would you rather head or heel?"

  "Head, I guess, since I haven't done this in a while." Seeing her concern, he leaned over and gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "Don't worry. I promise to keep my butt in the saddle and out of the dirt."

  Her cheeks burning in embarrassment, Sam gave her head a quick nod. "Okay, then, pick your calf."

  Nash plucked his rope from his saddle horn and shook out the loop as he headed his horse into the milling herd of calves. Selecting the one he wanted, he worked him away from the others and lifted his rope. The calf darted, but Nash quickly spurred his horse to follow, circling the rope over his head. Letting it go, he wrapped the end of the rope around the horn and turned his horse just as the noose settled over the calf's head.

  With a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Sam was right behind him, her rope already sailing through the air. The loop caught the calf's hind legs and she pulled her horse up short, with Nash doing the same. Dropping his reins, he leaped from the horse's back and ran to catch the calf around the middle and throw him to the ground. Sam was at his side, knife in hand. Kneeling, she pressed a knee into the calf's stomach to hold him in place, while Nash lifted his rear legs. She made the cut, pulled the calf's testicles down, sliced, dropped them into a plastic bag tied at her waist, then sprayed antiseptic on the cut.

  They both stood, pulling their ropes from the calf's head and legs. The calf bounded away, bawling. Sam released her pent-up breath, wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans. "We did it," she murmured as if she couldn't quite believe it.

  Nash grinned and stuck out his hand. "I'd say we make a pret
ty good team, wouldn't you?"

  Staring at him, she gave her hand another swipe before clasping his in hers. "Yeah," she said, her surprise obvious. "I guess we do."

  "Who's the good-looking cowboy with Sam?" Merideth asked, one brow arched in appreciation.

  Mandy chuckled. "That's no cowboy. That's Nash Rivers—and hands off! He belongs to Sam."

  Merideth whipped her head around to stare, her shock obvious. "Sam?"

  Mandy's smile broadened as she slung an arm around her sister's shoulder. "Yep, Sam. Though I'm not sure she realizes it yet."

  Merideth turned back to the fence to peer through the slats. "Maybe you better explain. Reader's Digest version, please. I'm not in the mood for one of your lengthy explanations."

  Mandy bit back a grin. Jetlag had done nothing to improve her sister's disposition. "She's giving riding lessons to his daughter. He's a widower and he invited her out to dinner. Is that brief enough?"

  Merideth turned slowly. "And how advanced is this relationship?"

  Mandy lifted a shoulder and turned to look at Sam and Nash. "It's hard to tell. You know Sam. Tight-lipped. Keeps everything bottled up inside. Still carrying around a lot of emotional baggage from that incident years ago."

  "Is she still in therapy?"

  "Yes, for almost a year now."

  "Is it helping?"

  Mandy nodded toward the arena where Sam and Nash sat on their horses, their knees almost touching. "When was the last time you saw Sam let a man get that close?"

  Merideth folded her arms along a rail on the fence, her expression thoughtful as she studied her sister's expression. "Well, I'll be," she murmured. "Who'd have ever thought our little Sam would fall in love?"

  Nash swung his leg over the horse's back and slid gingerly to the ground. If his knees wobbled a bit, he tried to hide it. Man, he was going to be sore tomorrow! His thighs already burned and his knees felt like mush. And that was without taking into consideration his rear end, which at this point was still thankfully numb.