Impossible

by Laurel Curtis

  I had forgotten about it- about everything that it meant. I had forgotten that he would be able to see it, that it would leave things that I wasn’t ready to tell him open to questioning or interpretation. He had so taken my mind off of it, out of the world really, to a place where no one existed other than the two of us, that my scar hadn’t even registered.

  But now it did. In a big freaking way.

  But before I could say anything, Coleman rolled us so that I was straddling him, reached out and grabbed my breasts with both hands, and declared, “Real, baby. Definitely, all fuckin’ real.”

  Oh my God! He was talking about the fact that I didn’t have implants! God, he had a talent for killing moments.

  My chest started to puff up with attitude, but he kept talking. “And you were right. You’re actually pretty quiet.” Waggling his eyebrows, he challenged, “I’ll have to get creative and see how loud I can get you. Better yet, find out what exactly it is that it takes to get you makin’ noise.”

  Something I didn’t quite realize at the time- he may have killed the moment, but he also made me forget all about the attention he had paid to my scar.

  That was another one of his skills. It was probably one of his most incognito, but masterful, talents actually. He had a real gift for being able to do something intimate, something that connected us that much deeper, but move on before I had a chance to fully realize it was happening. And he moved on with so much skill that it was seamlessly effective, my mind always fully immersed in the next thought or action without realizing I had made a transition.

  It was actually really freaking impressive.

  But at the moment, I was concentrating on the fact that his hands were palming my breasts, I was poised for a fight, and he had essentially thrown down a challenge.

  Immediately, I launched myself at him, moving my lips down his neck, chest, abdomen, and down, my hands making their own journey at the same time.

  It was time to make him make some noise of his own.

  Chapter 11

  Atlanta

  The three weeks since Coleman and I had finally done the deed had gone by in a whirlwind.

  Believe it or not, I fell really comfortably into a routine, mixing my life with their’s as if it was done by design.

  We spent a few days at their house, riding horses, sitting on the porch, cooking in the kitchen, and riding bulls.

  Well, technically, I had just watched them ride bulls, but I liked to pretend I was the one doing it by association or something. Unfortunately, I had watched both of them hit the ground several times, both by getting bucked off before the passing of eight seconds and by just having a hard time getting off once it was over. It was bound to happen sometime, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  CJ had apparently gotten “down in the well” on one bull, or trapped in the vortex of the bull’s spin, and his hand had gotten hung up on his dismount as a result.

  I legitimately thought my heart would stop, watching the bull flail his body around, all the guys jumping right in in an effort to free his hand.

  Turns out, I was really good in scary-as-shit situations as long as they only included me. Throw in someone I care about, especially a kid, and I was a freaking wreck. Thankfully, he was really talented and this wasn’t a frequent occurrence or I had the feeling it would start to take a toll on my health.

  Coleman and CJ had both tried to reassure me, jumping in to tell me that it was no big deal as both of them had broken so many bones they’d lost count.

  Yeah, as you can guess, that didn’t do all that much to ease my ravaged mind.

  In other activities, Coleman had spent his nights trying to make me get loud, and while it turns out I’m generally just pretty quiet in bed, he succeeded a few times.

  Josh and I had been good together in bed, but we had both been virgins when we got together in high school. It was clear that Coleman’s prior slutiness was working for me in a big way.

  He introduced me to all sorts of delicious positions, and I honestly couldn’t tell you what was my favorite because they were all that awesome.

  And just like the rest of our relationship, the sexual aspect had filled in naturally and the chemistry was just right.

  The next week had been filled with storms again. I got the itch to chase so I went, and Coleman had to leave to go ride in New York, so it just made sense that I went back anyway.

  I did stop back in Huntsford in between and visit Nan and CJ though. And I went to every rodeo CJ rode in. I had meant it when I told Coleman that I would be the one to be there to make sure CJ knew Coleman was proud of him. Knew we were proud of him.

  This pattern had continued for the next couple of weeks, with some visits from Coleman and a liberal amount of phone sex thrown in. Once we started having sex, we missed it.

  So we got creative. Neither one of us had had phone sex before, Coleman stating, “Baby, when I needed a woman before, I just found one. I didn’t bother with callin’ one so that I could stroke myself when I could have someone do it for me.”

  I had blinked, my anger starting to boil to the surface, but he hastily added, “And before you fuckin’ say something, it’s different now and you know it. I’d rather have the imaginary you than the real anybody else.”

  Obviously, his statement had appeased me and then some. I made sure I got extra loud on the phone for him as a reward.

  The nightmares still came every night, whether Coleman was sleeping beside me or not, so I had begun to resign myself to the fact that I would just have to deal with them for the rest of my life.

  Now I was walking through the airport in Atlanta, Georgia, fresh off of the plane Coleman had insisted I get on. His exact words had been, “I swear to God, Banty. Just get on the fuckin’ plane. I have to be here because it’s my job but I miss you so much it fuckin’ hurts. Get. On. The. Plane.”

  I got on the plane.

  And then, as I sat in my tiny (even for a vertically challenged person such as myself) coach airplane seat trying not to let myself tear through my palms with my fingernails, I let myself consider the possibility that I was falling in love with him.

  And then, after several minutes of very scary contemplation, I tried to stop myself from hyperventilating when I realized it wasn’t a possibility, it just was.

  And I wasn’t falling...I was already a big freaking body shaped splat on the pavement.

  Shit. Dizzle.

  It’s safe to say that the person seated next to me had inched away, convinced they had been seated next to a psychopath. That, or someone who was only seconds away from losing their lunch in tight quarters. The latter had actually been true.

  I looked down at my worn brown cowboy boots as I walked, the anticipation of seeing him after coming to this powerful epiphany gnawing at my gut.

  Stupidly, I had also put in an effort, wearing a new pair of tight jeans and a tank top that cut low enough to tease with a little cleavage, and even blowing out my hair and putting on a little bit of makeup. It felt weird to go through the motions again. Years ago, it was something I did everyday. Vying for a position as an on air Meteorologist, I had to.

  Sometimes it seemed like I was two entirely different people; like there was no way I could have lived both of these lives in the same short lifetime.

  As I finally came to the end of the long concourse of gates, I turned the corner and made my way out through security so that I could go get my checked bag.

  I wasn’t even really sure who was picking me up or where they were going to be, but what I didn’t expect was to see Coleman right there, as far as he could come as an un-ticketed passenger, just on the other side of security. I thought he would be at the arena, getting ready, too busy to come and pick me up himself.

  Immediately, I felt a tightening in my chest. The good kind of tightening.

  He was leaning his shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles. His wranglers were tight and worn, h
is belt was clasped with his ever present buckle, and he had on a blue t-shirt that was remarkably similar to the color of his one blue eye.

  His skin was golden tan, his dark hair was almost wildly askew, and his face was rough with a heavy stubble.

  God, he looked gorgeous.

  I watched avidly as his eyes took me in and then moved passed me, only to snap back violently as he pushed himself off of the wall and straightened. Apparently, a double take had been necessary.

  Just managing to keep my step from faltering, I kept my eyes on his as he swiftly ate up the distance between us in half the time it would have taken me.

  His hands shot out and grabbed my hips, which I was learning was his favorite place to hold me.

  Uncaring that there were people all around us, he didn’t waste any time pulling my hips toward him and up so that I was flush against him, and my arms went around his neck since they didn’t have anywhere else to go.

  His lips came directly to my ear, skimming and warming the skin of it as he spoke softly. “Jee-sus, Banty baby. You just got me hard just lookin’ at you. Did you do all this for me?”

  I tried to play dumb, asking, “Do what for you?”

  Coleman just raised his eyebrows and waited for me to cave.

  It didn’t take long.

  “Alright, fine. If you must know, I was hoping to pick up a bull rider tonight. You wouldn’t happen to know one would you?” I teased.

  A chuckle bubbled out of his throat and a combination of hips and buckle smashed even harder into me. Moving his lips from my ear to my lips, he murmured, “I’m pretty sure I can scrounge one up. He might even be one of the best there’s ever been.”

  I giggled, pushed myself out of his arms, and mock-protested, “Stop groping me in the middle of the airport, Cade. Let’s go.”

  His face was one giant smile as he reached out, tagged my hand, and started us in the direction of baggage claim. As he walked, he talked. “Better get used to that, baby.”

  “What? Getting groped in the middle of the airport?” I questioned.

  “Well, yeah, that,” he winked, “But I meant everyone you run into is gonna call me Cade.”

  I squeezed his hand, raised an eyebrow, and suggested, “Maybe I should call you Cade too. You can think of it like roll play. I’ll be the bitchy, hotheaded storm chaser, and you can be the really hot, successful bull rider.”

  Happy and joking, I didn’t expect him to screech to an immediate stop, pull me out of the crowd and to the side, and get into my space. My heart started to beat faster, and I couldn’t help but get a little nervous. I didn’t know what was going on, but apparently what he had to say was important.

  His face was close and his voice was low, and I could tell he wanted me to really listen when he said, “Two things, Banty baby. First, you call me Coleman. I like it that way, and I especially like it when my dick is in you. And second...now listen because this part is important...how is that roll play if that’s who we are?”

  That’s not who we were. At least, not the way I saw it.

  I could have rejected his notion right then, flat out stating that we weren’t those people and he should know it. But I didn’t want to let it go that easily. I had just come to an overwhelmingly important realization on the plane and this was the kind of thing that could make those feelings less legitimate. Slowly, I lifted my hand to his jaw and swept my thumb along it, curious to see if he really knew me at all. Keeping my voice soft, I did one of the scariest things I had ever done, dropping the carefully crafted mask I had been building for the last few years, and asked, “Is that who we really are, Coleman? Are you the famous bull rider, the ladies man, the cocky guy who thinks he’s hot shit? Am I really cold, unloving, bitchy, and better off all on my own?”

  The way I saw it, that was just what we were on the surface. He was definitely a whole lot more than that selfish, overly confident guy. He was sweet, generous, and downright nurturing most of the time. Sure, he took care of you in a joking, funny, completely un-serious way. But he took care of you.

  He took care of me.

  And as for me, well, I sure as hell didn’t actually want to spend the rest of my days all on my own, never feeling the sweet softness that love can bring to your life.

  As soon as he heard my words, his eyes flashed and his face warmed with something I swore looked a hell of a lot like love. A hell of a lot like what I felt for him.

  His arms immediately surrounded me, crushing me into his body so hard that I found it difficult to breathe. Truthfully, my sudden lack of oxygen was probably half because of the physical weight crushing me and half a manifestation of how scared I was about letting somebody get close to me.

  About admitting to myself that I freaking wanted him to get close to me.

  “How in the fuck did I find you, Roni? Right now, hearing you say that about us, knowing you really see me...fuck, knowing you really see you, I know I’ve never met a luckier man than me,” he declared, his voice low and gravelly.

  Tears stinging my eyes, I clawed desperately upward, trying to fight the pull of sweet-significant-other induced hysteria. My lips found his ear, and when they did, they nibbled it once (I just couldn’t resist) before I stated hesitantly, “I’m pretty sure I’m more comfortable when I’m a bitch and you’re a famous asshole.”

  Chuckling, he didn’t move even an inch away, but he did mutter, “I’ll bet,” before giving me yet another bone-breaking squeeze.

  “Come on, Banty. We gotta get goin’. We gotta get there for two reasons. One...I’m running late. And two...you need to relax, put your feet up, save your energy,” he stated casually before pushing back, pulling me away from the wall, grabbing my hand, and picking up a clipped pace on the way to baggage claim again.

  I worked double time, basically doing the exact opposite of saving energy, in order to keep up and keep my breath enough to be able to ask him the question, “And why is it that I need to save up my energy again? I think I missed it.”

  Coleman made a show of tsk-ing me, as though I was the misbehaving student who wasn’t paying attention in class, before explaining, “Because, my little Banty rooster, when I get done riding tonight, assuming I haven’t broken any major bones,” I cringed but he kept right on talking, “I’m gonna be feelin’ super energetic and creative, and I’m gonna wanna expend those things on you.”

  Wow.

  When we got to the carousel to wait for my bag, we stopped and I tugged on his hand so that he would face me. I thought about voicing my concerns about creative, but decided he would just end up giving me some innuendo-laden vague answer that did nothing to offer any real explanation. Instead, I prompted him with a different question. “You know, I just realized I’ve never been with you after you’ve finished a ride in a competition like this. What are you like?”

  From what I had seen on TV, he was indeed full of energy and even more playful than normal. Which was really saying something because he was pretty exuberant on a typical day.

  “Don’t worry. You’re gonna find out tonight,” he promised, a smirk on his handsome face and his voice making it sound a little bit like a threat. And by a little bit, I mean a lot.

  Oh boy.

  ********

  “Cute bunny, Cade. Let me know when you’re done with her,” I heard one of the other riders say. I think his name was Justin, but to be honest, I couldn’t really remember.

  After rushing to leave the airport and driving only slightly slower than I would have, through some pretty heavy traffic, we were making our way though the arena so that Coleman could put me exactly where he wanted me.

  Not like that! He still had a ride to make, so it wasn’t time to be naughty. Yet.

  He had warmed up and done all the other bureaucratic crap he had to, and now he was looking for the perfect place for me to sit and watch. He didn’t want to leave me to my own devices out in the normal crowd since he didn’t really have anyone there he trusted to watch me. I had tried to tell h
im I would be fine on my own, that I had been fine on my own for quite some time, but my dear sweet alpha male didn’t seem to think that was good enough.

  Anyway, now we were weaving through a bunch of other cowboys whom I had met during a round of perfunctory introductions when I first arrived. There were a lot of them though, and they all kind of looked similar in their get-ups, so I wasn’t doing a very good job of remembering little details like their names.

  I started to ask Coleman what the hell he meant by “bunny”, but the look Coleman was shooting Justin-what’s-his-name stopped me cold.

  His voice was a low rumble when he finally spoke, and I could tell it had taken him that long to lock down his anger to a reasonable level. “Don’t even fuckin’ look at her, Justman.”

  Oh, Justman. I was close.

  “She’s not a fuckin’ buckle bunny and you know it,” Coleman finished, his body actually vibrating with the tension in his muscles.

  Call me crazy, but I was thinking there was more bad blood between him and this Justman than his comment about me. Coleman normally had a tighter grip on his control than he had right now, and if I was reading the signs correctly, there was some kind of good reason.

  Back when I worked at WNIR, there was this girl, Gina. We clashed a few times in the very beginning and then after that I couldn’t get over it. She just rubbed me the wrong way. So much that even if she told me I looked super pretty (not that she ever did), I still would have grumbled under my breath about what a bitch she was. I was picking up those very same vibes coming off of Coleman.

  Reaching out and touching his arm lightly, I brought his attention back to me and simultaneously felt some of the tension ebb its way out of his muscles.

  His big, strong, firm, motherfreaking gorgeous muscles.

  Sweet Jesus, this man was attractive.

  Coleman immediately noticed the heat in my eyes, and it was like he flipped a switch. The anger was gone, and it was seamlessly replaced with his easygoing smile. Not to mention, there was quite a bit of heat in his eyes too.