by Nora Roberts
“I wish you’d told me before. I just wish you’d told me you were so unhappy with all this. We could’ve talked about it.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But I do know this whole deal’s about him, not me. Him and my mother, and their endless war, and endless pursuit of the right appearances. I’m finished with it, too.”
Her heart broke a little for him. “Did you have a fight with your parents before you left?”
“I wouldn’t call it a fight. I said some things I wanted to say, and I got an ultimatum. I could stay and work in the family firm this summer or he’d cut me off. Financially, as he’s cut me off in every other way since I was a kid.”
They forded a stream in silence, just the splash of hooves through water. She couldn’t imagine her parents stepping away from her, not in any way. “So you came here.”
“It’s what I’d planned to do, what I wanted to do. I’ve got enough money to get my own place. I don’t need much. I was never going back to live with my mother anyway. Just never going there again.”
A little bubble of hope swelled inside her. “You could stay here, with your grandparents. You know you could. Help out at the farm. You could go to school out here, and—”
He turned his head toward her, and she felt that little bubble pop and dissolve. “I’m not going back to college, Lil. It’s not for me. It’s different for you. You’ve been planning what you were going to study, what you were going to do, ever since you saw that cougar. And decided to chase cats instead of pop flies.”
“I didn’t know you were so unhappy. I get law wasn’t your choice, and it was unfair of your father to push you there, but—”
“Fair’s not the point.” He shrugged, a gesture of a young man too used to unfair to be bothered by it. “It’s not about that, and from now on it’s not about him. It’s about me. The whole college scene? That’s not about me.”
“Neither is staying here, is it?”
“It doesn’t feel like it, not yet or not now anyway. I don’t know what I want, for sure. Staying would be easy. I’ve got a place to stay, three squares, work I’m pretty good at. I’ve got family, and you.”
“But.”
“It feels like settling, before I know. Before I do something. Out here, I’m Sam and Lucy’s grandson. I want to be me. I enrolled in the police academy.”
“Police?” If he’d leaned over and shoved her off her horse she’d have been less stunned. “Where did that come from? You’ve never said anything about wanting to be a cop.”
“I took a couple of courses in law enforcement, and one in criminology. They were the only things I liked about the whole pile of crap these last two years. The only things I was any good in. I’ve already applied. I’ve got enough course credits to get in, and I’ll be twenty when I start. It’s six months’ training, and it just feels like I’d be good at it. So I’m going to try it. I need something that’s mine. I don’t know how to explain it.”
She thought, I’m yours, but kept the words to herself. “Have you told your grandparents?”
“Not yet.”
“You’ll be working in New York.”
“I’d’ve been going to school back east,” he reminded her. “And if everyone but me had their way, working in legal in my father’s company back there. Wearing a suit every fricking day. Now I’ll be doing something for me, or at least trying to. I figured you’d understand that.”
“I do.” She wished she didn’t. She wanted him there, with her. “It’s just . . . so far away.”
“I’ll come out when I can. As soon as I can. Maybe Christmas.”
“I could come to New York, maybe on semester break, or . . . next summer.”
Some of that sad lifted from his face. “I’ll show you around. There’s a lot to do, to see. I’ll have my own place. It’s not going to be much, but—”
“It won’t matter.” They’d make it work, somehow, she told herself. She couldn’t feel this way about him, about them, and not make it work. “They have cops in South Dakota, too.” She tried out a bright smile. “You could be sheriff of Deadwood one day.”
He laughed at the idea. “First I have to get through the academy. A lot of people wash out.”
“You won’t. You’ll be great. You’ll help people and solve crimes, and I’ll study and get my degree and save wildlife.”
And they’d find a way, she thought.
SHE LED the way to the spot she’d chosen. She’d wanted it perfect—the day, the place, the moment. She couldn’t let the future, the uncertainty of it interfere.
They had the sun, and it filtered through the trees to sparkle on the waters of the fast-running stream where purple dame’s rockets danced in the light breeze. More wildflowers bloomed in the light, and in the shadows, and the birdcall was music enough.
They dismounted, tethered the horses. Lil unstrapped her pack. “We should set up the tent first.”
“Tent?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. We’ve got two days. It’s okay with your grandparents, with my parents.” She set the pack down, laid her hands on his chest. “Is it okay with you?”
“It’s been a while since we camped. Last time your father and I shared a tent.” Searching her face, he rubbed her arms. “Things have changed, Lil.”
“I know. That’s why we’re here, with one tent and one sleeping bag.” She leaned in, keeping her eyes open as she brushed her lips over his. “Do you want me, Cooper?”
“You know I do.” He pulled her closer, took her mouth with a sudden and fierce possession that arrowed heat straight to her belly. “Jesus, Lil, you know I do. No point in asking if you’re sure, if you’re ready. You’re always sure. But . . . We’re not prepared. A tent’s not enough for what we’re talking about. At least, the kind of tent you’ve got in that pack.”
It made her laugh, and hug him tight. “I have a box of tents.”
“Sorry?”
“Condoms. I have a box of condoms. I never go camping unprepared.”
“A box. That makes the one I’m carrying in my wallet kind of unnecessary—and okay, thank you, God—but where the hell did you get condoms?”
“My mother gave them to me.”
“Your . . .” He closed his eyes, then gave up and sat on a rock. “Your mother gave you a box of condoms, then let you come out here with me?”
“Actually, she gave them to me a week ago, and asked me to promise to be sure and to be careful. I did, I am. I will.”
A little pale, Coop rubbed his hands on the knees of his jeans. “Your father knows?”
“Sure. He’s not home loading up the shotgun, Coop.”
“It’s weird. It’s just weird. And now I’m nervous, damn it.”
“I’m not. Help me set up the tent.”
He rose. They worked quickly, efficiently, securing the small, lightweight tent.
“You’ve done this before, right?”
He glanced over at her. “You don’t mean camping. Yeah. But I’ve never done this before with someone who hasn’t—done it before. It’s probably going to hurt you, and I don’t know if it’s even any good for a girl the first time.”
“I’ll let you know.” She reached out, laid a hand over his heart. All she could think was it was beating for her now. It had to be. “We could start now.”
“Now?”
“Well, I’m hoping you’ll get me warmed up first. I brought an extra blanket to spread out.” She pulled it out of the pack. “And since you’ve got that condom in your wallet, we could start with that. Otherwise, it’s all we’re going to think about.” Steady and sure, she took his hand. “Maybe you could lie down here with me, and kiss me awhile.”
“There’s nobody else like you in the world.”
“Show me, will you? You’re the only one I want to show me.”
He kissed her first, as they stood in the sunlight beside the blanket, and put everything he had that was soft and gentle into it.
He knew she was right. It should be here, in the wo
rld that belonged to the two of them, the world that had brought them together, and linked them together forever.
They lowered to kneel, face-to-face, and she sighed against his lips.
He stroked her, her hair, her back, her face, and finally her breasts. He’d felt them before, felt her heart kick against his palm when he touched her. But this was different. This was prelude.
He drew off her shirt, and saw the smile in her eyes as she drew off his. Her breath caught when he unhooked her bra. Then her eyes fluttered closed as for the time he touched her there skin to skin.
“Oh. Well. That’s definitely warming me up.”
“You’re like . . .” He searched for the right words as he cupped her breasts, used his thumbs to tease her nipples. “Gold dust, all over.”
“You haven’t seen all over yet.” She opened her eyes, looked into his. “Things are coming to life inside me I didn’t even know were there. Everything’s all jumpy and hot.” She reached out, rubbed her palms over his chest. “Is it like that for you?”
“Except I knew they were there. Lil.” He bent his head and took her breast into his mouth. The flavor of her flooded him, the sound of her shock and delight raced wild through his blood.
Her arms came around him, urging him, and stayed around him when they collapsed on the blanket.
She hadn’t known there would be so much. Storms and waves and shudders. Nothing she’d read—not the texts, not the novels—had prepared her for what happened to her own body.
Her mind seemed to lift out of it, release it, so there was nothing but feeling.
She raced her lips over his shoulder, his throat, his face, giving in to the urge to feed on him. When his hand stroked down her torso, fought open the button of her jeans, she quivered. And thought: Yes. Please, yes.
When she tried to do the same for him, he drew back.
“I need to . . .” His breath came ragged as he dragged his wallet out. “I might forget, just stop thinking.”
“Okay.” She lay back, touched her own breasts. “Everything feels different already. I think . . . Oh.” Her eyes widened as he yanked off his jeans. “Wow.”
Elemental male pride at her reaction had him slanting a glance at her as he ripped open the condom. “It’ll fit.”
“I know how it works, but . . . let me.” Before he could sheath himself she sat up to touch him.
“Holy shit, Lil.”
“It’s smooth,” she murmured as another wave of heat rolled through her. “Hard and smooth. Will it feel like that inside me?”
“Keep that up, you’re not going to know for a while.” His breathing fast and shallow, he caught her wrist, pulled her hand away.
He struggled to focus, concentrated on the protection. “Let me,” he said as he lowered to her. “Just let me this first time.”
He kissed her, long, slow, deep, and hoped his instincts ran true. She seemed to soften under him, and then as he stroked his hand down, quivered.
She was already wet, and that nearly undid him. Praying for control, he slipped a finger into her. Her hips arched up as her fingers dug into his back.
“Oh, God, oh, God.”
“It’s good.” Hot, soft, wet. Lil. “Is it good?”
“Yes. Yes. It’s . . .”
She felt something rise up, fly off, and take her breath with it. He was kissing her, kissing her, anchoring her, letting her go. She arched again, to find more. Then again, again.
This, she thought, this.
Swimming in the heat, she felt him shift, felt him press at the core of her. She opened her eyes, struggled to focus, watched his face, the intensity of those crystal blue eyes.
It hurt. For a moment the pain was so shocking through the pleasure she went stiff with denial.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know if he intended to stop or go on, but knew she was on the brink of something unimagined. She gripped his hips, and reared up to find it, to know it.
The pain struck again, another shock and burn—and he was inside her. With her.
“It fit,” she managed.
He dropped his head on her shoulder with a breathless and choked laugh. “Oh, God, Lil. Oh, God. I don’t think I can stop now.”
“Who asked you to?” She dug her fingers in, lifted her hips again, then felt him move in her.
He trembled above her, and it seemed to her the ground trembled beneath. Inside her, everything opened, everything filled, and she knew.
She cried out with pleasure as she hadn’t with the pain, and rode the crest of it with him.
5
They played in the stream, washing in the cool water, teasing and tormenting each other’s bodies until they were breathless.
Wet and half naked, they fell on the food Lil had brought like a pair of starving wolves. With the horses tethered and dozing, they donned light packs to hike a short way along the trail.
Everything seemed brighter to her, clearer and stronger.
She paused among the shelter of the pines, pointed at tracks. “Wolf pack. The cats compete with them for prey. Mostly they leave each other alone. There’s a lot of game, so . . .”
He gave her a poke in the belly. “I should’ve known there was a reason you picked this way.”
“I wondered if the female I spotted covered this ground. She’s probably more west of here, but it’s good territory, as the wolves would tell you. We’re going to build a refuge.”
“For what?”
“All of them. For endangered and injured and abused. For the ones people buy or capture as exotic pets then realize they can’t possibly keep. I’m still talking my father into it, but I will.”
“Here? In the hills?”
She gave a decisive nod. “Paha Sapa—Lakota for Hills of Black, a sacred place. It seems right. Especially right for what I want to do.”
“It’s your place,” he agreed. “So yeah, it seems right. But it seems like a lot.”
“I know. I’ve been studying how other refuges are built, set up, how they run, what it takes. I have a lot more to learn. We’ve got some overlap with the National Park, and that could work in our favor. We’ll need some funding, a plan, some help. Probably a lot of help,” she admitted.
They stood on the trail of a world they both knew, but it felt to him as if they stood at some kind of crossroads. “You’ve been doing a lot of thinking, too.”
“Yeah. I have. I’m going to work on it in school. Build a model, I hope. Learn enough to make it happen. It’s what I want to do. I want to be a part of protecting all this, learning and educating. Dad knows I’m never going to be a beef farmer. I guess he’s always known.”
“That’s where you’re lucky.”
“I know it.” She ran her hand down his arm until their fingers linked. “If you decide being one of New York’s Finest doesn’t suit you, you could come back and give us a hand with it.”
He shook his head. “Or sheriff of Deadwood.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Cooper.” She turned into his arms.
So she felt it, too, he realized, and he only held her tighter. “You couldn’t.”
“I don’t want to be with anyone but you. I don’t want anyone but you.”
He turned his head to rest his cheek on top of her head. Looked at the tracks they’d left behind. “I’ll come back. I always come back.”
She had him now, and tried to hold on to that as tightly as she held on to him. She would will him back if need be. Back to her, back to where he was happy.
One day they’d walk through this forest again, years from now. Together.
As they walked back to camp, she put everything between now and then out of her mind.
That night, while the stars seared the sky overhead, she lay in his arms, and heard the cry of the cat.
Her talisman, she thought. Her good-luck charm.
Because she couldn’t understand why she felt so weepy, she turned her face into his shoulder and lay quiet unti
l she could sleep.
JENNA WATCHED OUT the window. The hard, hot day threatened storms with a mottled bruising in the eastern sky. There would be other storms, and more bruising, she thought as she watched her girl and the boy she loved ride back from checking fences with Joe and Sam.
Even at that distance she could see what they were. Lovers now, so young, so fresh. All they could see were the summer blue skies, and not the storms blowing in.
“He’ll break her heart.”
“I wish I could say otherwise.” Behind her, Lucy put a hand on Jenna’s shoulder and watched as she watched.
“She thinks it’ll all fall into place, the way she wants, the way she plans. That it’ll be what it is now forever. I can’t tell her different. She wouldn’t believe me.”
“He loves her.”
“Oh, I know. I know. But he’ll go, just as she will. They have to. And she’ll never be quite the same again. There’s no stopping that either.”
“We hoped he’d stay. When he told us he wasn’t going back to college, I thought, Well, that’s all right. You’ll stay here, and take over the farm one day. I had just enough time to think it—and to think how he might’ve given his education a better try if his father hadn’t pushed so hard. Then he told us what he aimed to do.”
“The police force.” She turned from the window to study her friend. “How do you feel about that, Lucy?”
“Scared some, that’s a fact. Hopeful he’ll find his feet, and some real pride in himself. I can’t tell him any more than you can tell Lil.”
“My biggest fear is he’ll ask her to go back with him, and she will. She’s young and in love and, well, fearless. The way you are at that age.” Jenna walked over to get out the pitcher of lemonade to give her hands something to do. “She’d just let her heart pull her along. It’s so far away. Not just the miles.”
“I know. I know what it was like when my Missy lit out, like there was a fire under her feet.” At home in Jenna’s kitchen as she was in her own, Lucy went to the cupboard for glasses. “He’s not like his mother, not a bit. Neither’s your girl. Missy, she never had a thought for anybody but herself. Just seemed to be born that way. Not mean, not even hard, just careless. She wanted anything but here.”
