“What?” I say.
“Your mom is calling on your phone.”
I press the T-shirt to my body, covering up my essentials, open the door, grab my phone from Casey, and then shut the door.
“Tess”—he sighs against the door—“I’m sorry for not talking to you first.”
“It’s a little late for that, Casey Atwood.” I hit Ignore and turn on the shower to drown out his voice.
“But,” he yells through the door, “this is a business deal! In order to move forward, we need to invest.”
I turn off the water. Cover my body back up with my T-shirt. “What happened to I’m not in it for the money?” I make a snide face as I give his words back to him. I sigh. “Casey, all I’m asking is that you talk to me before you agree to do anything that includes my livelihood. Give me a chance to say my piece first.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Look, if you’re trying to right our past with this little business venture, you can’t just throw money at it and make it better.”
“You’re right.”
And with that, I turn the water back on, and I’m a little less angry than I was five minutes ago. I drown out my inability to stay mad at Casey Atwood.
It’s late afternoon when the supplies start arriving for the renovations. As we agreed, Casey asks the delivery guys to put them downstairs, so they don’t get wet.
Emmitt will start the work tomorrow, as winter is fast approaching. We agree to have Sundays off, but he and his crew will work Monday through Saturday.
“If you’d like Saturday off, too, to be with your family, Emmitt, please feel free to take it off.”
He chuckles into the phone. “Alaska in the winter, don’t you rem—” Emmitt cuts himself off.
There’s a long pause.
“Remember, is what you were about to say. Why?” I ask, confused.
“What I meant was, you won’t forget it.” There’s an unease to his voice. Something has shifted, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Oh.”
I don’t know Emmitt well enough to understand his communication style. What side he stands on politically—not that it matters. Where he goes for Thanksgiving, Christmas. What he does when he goes home at night. I don’t know Emmitt at all, so I take his words at surface level.
“You’ll have to excuse my age, Tess. Sometimes, it has a mind of its own.” There’s a short pause. “Anyhow, we will get the work done. Don’t you worry about me.”
“All right then, it’s settled. Also, one other thing.”
I hear a sharp suck of air on the other end of the line.
“Would you be willing to cut off some of the labor costs if I’m willing to help with the labor of the renovations? It’s part of my agreement with Casey.”
It’s silent for a moment.
“Emmitt?”
“Uh … yes, of course. Quite honestly, Tess, I wasn’t going to charge for the labor.”
“But why?”
Again, a long pause. I’m starting to believe he’s either holding many secrets or many lies, or maybe he’s hard of hearing.
“Ike was an old friend. This house has been in Ketchikan since before I was a boy. We consider the Isner house to be a historical landmark—even if it’s not. It’s important to us, our people, that we keep it in good working condition.”
“It was in the quote. Emmitt, we can’t not pay you for your time.” I sigh.
“It’s a programmed thing when she runs the billing. The system automatically includes the labor based on the job. Anyhow, Tess, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Emmitt?” I ask before he hangs up. “Thank you for agreeing to take this on.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”
16
Casey
Four more rides. Four more weekends until the PBR World Finals.
That’s four weekends that I’m riding and then back to Ketchikan on Sundays to help Tess through the week.
And if I win the finals, shit, that’s a one-million-dollar purse. Not that I care about the money, but a million dollars wouldn’t be a bad thing. Not to mention, endorsement deals. Then, could I be done with bulls?
Could I walk away from a career that I’ve been doing for what seems like all my life?
The smell of the arena.
The adrenaline rush.
The feeling of euphoria coming off a good ride.
The fans.
The roar of the crowd.
But the travel.
In and out of airports every weekend.
Stranded on puddle jumpers, just trying to make my way to the next event.
“Hey.” I hear Tess say from behind me, and I turn to her.
I’m in my bedroom. I just got out of the shower, a towel around my hips. I know where her eyes go. To the scar on my shoulder from tearing my rotator cuff—twice. The long scar just below my rib cage on the right side where a nighthawk grazed me five years ago.
But I’ll retire at an early age; my body though will be of an aging man.
“Noticed you’ve been limping today.” Her eyes avoid mine.
“Sore.”
“Emmitt says he’s not charging labor because the house means too much to the community.”
I nod. “Seems like a good guy.”
Tess bites the inside of her cheek as I move past her to the closet and pull a T-shirt off the hanger.
“Can I help you with something, Tess?” I know she’s got something on her mind.
She whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for helping financially. And”—she sighs—“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.”
It’s as if she’d just admitted defeat.
I smile down at her and slide the T-shirt over my head.
I swear I see a tiny glimpse of disappointment cross her face the moment my body is covered.
“I don’t take help well, Case.” Her eyes search the floor and then the walls before finally meeting my gaze.
I want to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. Instead, I motion her out of the bedroom because I’m afraid I’ll do something that I’ll regret later.
We walk back out to the kitchen. The kitchen is a neutral spot. Neutral ground. A neutral place where people naturally gather. There’s no bed, no immoral thoughts—well, maybe some.
“In order to keep my spot in the World Finals, I need to ride four more rides. That’s four more weekends. So”—I clear my throat with a simple cough—“I will be here during the week to help out. I’ll catch a plane on Fridays to wherever the PBR is holding an event, and then fly back here on Sundays. No matter what.”
“Whatever you need to do, Casey,” is all she says.
The purse from the World Finals, if I win, would help set us up right. Give us a possibility at life together. It isn’t about money, but it’s a chance for us to be more comfortable—if she would ever consider taking me back. Maybe a start at something, but that sounds fucked up, too, because we’ve loved each other for a long time.
So, this is me, fixing our love. One thing’s for sure—I know Tess Morgan has never stopped loving me. Also, I know it was too hard to love me and be with me at the same time.
I won’t announce this until the finals are over, but this will be my last tour. Sometimes, us cowboys just know when to walk away. Throw in the towel. When our bodies are too badly scarred and we know our time is limited. One day, I’m going to wake up and realize I’m all I have. This body, this vessel, is the only thing tying me to this earth. And when my body is gone, beaten to shreds, or maybe I’ve been too lax on a bull, too comfortable, all that will be left is a pile of ashes of a tough, old cowboy who fought like hell for his ego.
Just four more rides.
“Casey?” I hear Tess’s voice.
I jerk my head up to look at her.
“Is it this Friday?” she asks.
“Yeah, this Friday.”
&
nbsp; Tess nods, collecting her thoughts and whatever she’s feeling, stuffing them into a bag much too small for the price we’ll both pay if something does happen. “I’ll get the wine.”
I smile at her.
She sighs. “Please don’t do that.”
“What?” I laugh.
“You know it’s that smile that’s gotten you into trouble for years, Casey Atwood.”
“This?” I point to it.
I do this just to try to get her to laugh, and when she does, I see her almost attempt to reach for my face, to cover my eyes, so I can’t see her laugh. But at the last minute, she doesn’t. Instead, she turns to the cabinet behind her and grabs a bottle of wine.
My heart slides out of my chest. I don’t know that she’ll ever come back to me.
The house moans as the wind begins to kick up again. Tess took my weekend plans better than I’d thought.
I turn to the refrigerator and grab a Coors Light and set it on the counter behind me. Grab the steaks I bought from Olive’s when I was downtown today.
“I’m barbecuing tonight,” I say.
Tess Morgan could never turn down a medium-rare steak. Her eyebrows rise.
I also pull out a few potatoes and a premade bag of salad.
“Bag salad?” Tess cringes.
“What?”
Tess walks to the refrigerator where I’m standing. I take in her scent and try like hell not to touch her. With her shoulder to my chest, she bends at her waist and pulls out romaine lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers, and then she stands. Our faces are inches apart, and I don’t dare move.
“I can do something with this.” And then she walks away to a safe distance and stands on the other side of the island. She grabs a knife and a cutting board, and she begins to chop.
“Better get started on those steaks, Atwood. Bag salad.” I hear her say under her breath with a slight smile.
Later, after dinner, when the dishes are done and put away, we sit on the sofa, staring at the fire.
“You seem more relaxed,” I say.
And for a long moment, we just sit, sipping our drinks.
Tess finally says while looking at the fire’s flames, “Remember when we were kids and Ethan Handler dared me to jump off the rock and into Mad River?”
I cringe. “Yeah, that was a long drop.”
“Remember when you whispered in my ear, ‘Live in the moment, Morgan, and don’t worry about tomorrow. And if you die, I’ll make sure they don’t bury you because I know how claustrophobic you are. I’ll make sure they cremate you.’ ” She turns to look at me and laughs. And at the same time she does that, she doesn’t reach over and cover my face; she doesn’t turn away. She stares at me. And my heart doesn’t leave my chest this time because I see in her eyes that this is an act of love. She wants me to see her for her. “I’m trying real hard to live in the present moment, Casey. Trying not to live in the past because my heart is no good there.”
“Can we talk about—”
“I know you need to, Casey. But … I just can’t. I’m not ready, and I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, light.
I understand. Because it’s easier to push that shit under the rug. It’s easier to move forward. But are we really moving forward?
“I’m glad you didn’t die after taking Ethan up on his dare. Truth be told, I think he was hoping you’d lose your bikini top when you jumped. I think all the guys were.”
“And you?”
“I was thirteen, Tess. Of course I wanted to see your boobs. But it was only your boobs I wanted to see.”
She takes her eyes away from the fire. Sets her wine down on the coffee table. Pulls her knees up to her chest. “I need to not drink wine or any alcohol for that matter when I’m around you.”
The wind begins to pick up its pace again, a nightly, even daily, ritual.
“Why?”
Her eyes burrow into mine, into my chest, as if she sees only me for who I am and nothing else.
“Because left to my lack of inhibitions, I can’t trust myself, my heart.”
Badly, I want to take her in my arms, make love to her, or fuck her right here on the sofa. Whatever she needs from me, I’ll give her.
“What do you need from me, Tess?”
She puts up her invisible force field, but I see right through it. I know how she wants to answer, and I understand she feels it’s not the right answer but the feel-better answer. The easy answer. But I see she wears the regret like shame. I, too, know I’m not the regret, but the act of sex is. Masking feelings is the easy way out.
I remember her breasts were perfectly round and fit in my mouth as if they had been made for me. The way I slowly pushed into her for the first time. We were both young, and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I lasted maybe a minute. I’ve grown more in stamina, learned a lot of tricks along the way. But with Tess, things are just different with us.
“I just want to feel tonight. I don’t want to feel the weight of our decisions, the awfulness that lies in front of us like a rug full of snakes. I want it to be easy. I want you inside me but for all the wrong reasons, Casey. Because in the morning, I’ll regret it. Not you, not what we did, but why we did it.”
I set my beer down, scoop her up in my arms, and carry her to bed.
In her bedroom, I gently lay her down on her bed. Slowly, she begins to unbutton the front of her shirt, and I sit back on my feet and watch. She pushes off her top, so I can see the way her breasts rest in her bra.
“I brought you in here to go to sleep, Tess,” I whisper.
But I don’t know that I can stop myself now. I feel the bulge in my jeans harden.
She’s lying here on the bed, a thin piece of satin protecting her from my hands, my mouth.
“There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this, Tess.”
“I know.” She reaches back and unclasps her bra, so her breasts are released, pulling her bra out from underneath her so she’s lying there in only her jeans.
You can’t do this, Case.
But she’s asking me to.
It’s not the right time.
It’s all fucked up.
I slowly shake my head, unable to look away from her.
“Please, Casey. Just touch me.” A single tear slips from her eye and runs down the side of her face, falling to the bedspread.
My heart begs for mercy while my head spins, but it’s when I see her tear that it all becomes unraveled.
Slowly, I reach down and take her breasts in my hands, running my callous palms over her hard nipples.
She lets a whimper out.
The bulge in my pants begins to ache.
And I can’t stop fighting what I’m feeling.
I fucking can’t anymore.
Leaning down, I take her breast in my mouth, and then the other one.
Pull her jeans from her body.
Slide my hands down her thighs and stick my fingers into her panties. And I slide my finger into her folds.
She cries out, “More.”
In one swift motion, I drag her panties from her body and put my mouth where my fingers were. I look up at her. Tess’s eyes are locked on mine, and all I see is a mix of emotion in her eyes.
Passion.
Love.
Sadness.
Regret.
I drop my head to her stomach, panting in the darkness as the wind swirls around the house.
“Please,” she begs me.
“Tess.” My voice is hoarse with need, with love. I want to give her what she wants, and this feeling is all too familiar. The last time we made a decision like this, we lived with the decision for years. “I want this more than you do, but we can’t.”
She pulls my mouth to hers.
Breathing her in, I allow my tongue to explore her again. Finding pace and rhythm does no good for what’s in my pants.
She pushes her hands through my hair, and I settle between her thighs. With each probe and push of our tongues, our
bodies move together like they haven’t missed eight years.
“Tess, please,” I pant and pull away, not allowing my dick to win this match.
I sit back on my feet, staring down into her eyes, trying to catch my breath. Her body is fully exposed to me, available for my touch.
As I rub my hand across my face, she stares up at me. I know she sees the conflict in my eyes through the darkness, so instead of asking me to do something, she pulls me to her, and I rest my head on her chest.
“Go to sleep, Casey,” she says. “But first, take your clothes off. It’s only fair.”
I stand and slip my pants off, followed by my T-shirt, and she moves the covers, so I can climb in next to her.
The wind blows around us.
The rain starts.
And there’s no place in the world I’d rather be.
I know Tess Morgan will own my heart forever—if we’re together or not.
17
The Ladybugs
Some things are just better left unsaid, Erla thinks to herself when she remembers the chief coming to the door.
Her mind spun out of control.
Was the chief here because he’d heard that Don’s body wasn’t quite ready to go to heaven to be with the Lord?
Was the chief here because Betty had told him she was worried about Erla? That she’d looked lost that day?
Was the chief here on a different matter altogether?
These thoughts put her mind into a tailspin until the chief finally said, “I hate to ask you this, Erla, but, well, we received an anonymous tip yesterday, and I’m questioning many, many of our folks here in Dillon Creek. Anyway, it was brought to my attention that when Tripp and Conroy were killed, there might have been a witness. A woman about seventy or so. There’s no car identification or license plate, as it was dark, but …” Chief ran his fingers along the folds of his hat. “Anyway, just thought I’d pursue the tip.”
Erla took a big breath in.
She hadn’t been there.
She hadn’t seen anything. She had been in bed next to Don.
But she did remember the morning after. It was an awful nightmare.
The whole town mourned for the Atwoods and the Morgans.
Saving Tess Page 13
