by Donna Alward
“What do you mean the first one?” Ray dried off the little black colt, admiring the white blaze and stockings.
“Candy has a secret baby. Which explains why they’re early and why she carried so wide. Let’s just pray she ate enough, and that her milk comes in fast.”
Ray looked back at his dad, who shook his head as he whispered to his horse. Even Deke wore a grim expression. They all knew that twin pregnancies were rare for horses and seldom resulted in live foals. Time, space and nutrition were working against them already.
“Good news,” Jacy said with a smile. “This one is in the right position.”
The colt wriggled in his arms, trying to find his feet. “Babe, he’s okay, right? He seems fine, just a little small. He’s even trying to stand up.”
She didn’t answer, just focused on the next foal, pulling him free after a few contractions. This black colt was feistier from the start, kicking free of his sac and vocalizing. Candy responded with a whinny and lifted her head to look at her babies.
“I’m so impressed with this mare right now, I can hardly stand it.” Jacy removed her gloves and sorted through her bag. “Mr. Mitchell, how is she? Do you think she’ll stand to nurse, or should I milk her?”
“Call me Rick.” He cleared his throat. Ray went to his side and helped him to stand. The mare looked up at him, checked on the colts and stood. She leaned against the wall, but she was up. “As a brood mare, she’s the best I’ve ever had. Even her maiden season, she didn’t need any help.”
“If Blaze over here hadn’t been breech, it might have gone that way this time.”
It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t playing with the smaller colt but examining him. When he found his feet, he headed straight for Candy, who licked and nuzzled him.
An hour later, the mare lay with her colts on clean straw, all fed and tended to. For the next forty-eight hours, they’d have to be watched round the clock and monitored with a list of instructions Jacy had dictated. Deke volunteered to take the first shift, and Ray’s folks even wanted a turn.
Jacy wiped her eyes as she carried her bag out of the stall and set it on a table in the tack room. She shivered, and he realized she’d spent the last three hours in clothes that were soaked through. There hadn’t been time for her to change into the clothes he’d brought. He caught her just as she wiped her eyes again.
“Babe, is there something you’re not telling me?” Her hazel eyes widened, sending him on alert. “The colts are all right, aren’t they?”
“I hope so. It’s an absolute miracle, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. I want this to be a story we tell for years, but I know so much of what could go wrong.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her close, trying to warm her cold fears. “Lots of things could go sideways, but most of the time things happen the way you plan them to. Like how we’re together tonight.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m disgusting. I need a hot shower and clean clothes.”
“This is so far from what I planned.” He held her tighter, until she wrapped her arms around him. “Will you stay the night?”
“Yes, I want to be close in case they need anything. I’ll be sure to check them in the morning before I leave, and I’m going to try to come back Monday and clear my schedule for Tuesday. I can run some blood work and I’ll call if it seems they’re not getting enough colostrum.”
He pulled back and waited for her to look up at him with her mascara-rimmed eyes. His pulse jumped, but he pushed through the fear of being turned down cold. “I want you to stay with me.”
“Oh.” Her mouth formed a perfect circle around the word.
“I’m not pushing for anything. But you’re here, and I was really looking forward to being with you.” She looked at him like he was trying to sell her a bridge. “How about if you check out the cabin, take a shower while I grab us some dinner from the house, and you can decide where to sleep after.”
“I can’t believe you want to be around me when I’m covered in horse.”
“I mentioned the shower, right?”
Chapter Eight
The cowboy had fluffy towels. Jacy wrapped one around her body and squeezed her hair dry with the other. His bathroom had a porcelain soaking tub and a walk-in shower tiled in river rock. When Ray had led her to his cabin, she’d expected rustic inside as well as out. Instead, she’d stumbled upon a cozy oasis that had calmed her nerves.
She peeked out the bathroom door to see if Ray had returned with dinner and her change of clothes, but everything was still. She stepped out into the single room, more master suite than anything. His log-framed bed sat high in the middle of the space, while bookshelves lined the back wall. The kitchen area reminded her of a wet bar with the half-sized fridge and tiny sink. A leather club chair perched in the corner by an armoire that must serve as his closet.
The wide planks of the floor were cold beneath her feet. She didn’t want to rifle through his things, but she didn’t want to greet him in a towel even more. She borrowed a pair of knit wool socks and a flannel shirt. Expecting him to open the door any moment, she slipped them on quickly.
After she’d hung her towels to dry, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. The only places to sit were the bed and the chair by his bookcases. She opted for the chair but got distracted by his shelves. Shelves of Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour, Hemmingway and Faulkner, plus a collection of works on agriculture, food and cows.
The front door pushed open and Ray stood there with a smile. He must have showered at the house, because his hair was a mess of damp curls and he’d changed into a T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. He held a metal lunchbox in one hand and a roll of clothes in the other.
“You look good in my shirt.” He kicked the door closed and set the lunchbox on the chopping block he used as a counter. “So good I’m thinking my mom’s University of Oregon sweatshirt can wait until morning.”
She pulled a face. “Your mom is a Duck? I’m so sorry.”
“We try not to judge her slip in judgment. She hadn’t met Dad yet and learned the error of her ways. Plus, she was on scholarship, so they were paying her to be there.”
“Well, if they were paying, I’m glad she took their money.” When she stood this close to him, the overwhelming awareness that she wore nothing beneath his shirt had her libido raging. And she had no idea what to do about it. “What was her scholarship in?”
“Music, same as my youngest brother, Ryan. He went there too. We don’t talk about it.”
“Unless we beat them in football. Or basketball. Or anything.”
“The Oregon Civil War rivalry can get pretty heated.” He toed off sneakers he must have put on at the house.
She pulled her hands into the sleeves of his shirt. “Did I take too long in the shower?”
“No, I showered at the house because I needed pajamas. I only keep what I use here, the rest of my clothes are at my folks.”
“You usually sleep naked, don’t you?” Her pulse thrummed as she glanced over at the bed, thinking about how he climbed beneath that quilt every night. The same quilt she’d be sleeping under.
He nodded. “I want you to be comfortable.”
“I’m starving. What did you bring for dinner?” As segues went, it sucked. But she didn’t know what to say or do. She had this wonderful man right next to her, about to share a bed, and the way things were going, they were having a slumber party.
“My mom makes savory hand pies. They’re faster to grab than making a sandwich.”
While he pulled out a plate and unpacked their dinner, she tried to think of what Carly would do. Not that she’d ever find herself entrenched in the friend zone with the man of her dreams. Carly knew her effect on men and used it accordingly. What had she said? Get him on edge and he’ll make the first move. If only she knew how.
Ray held up a mason jar
of lemonade. “Do you want your own glass or can we share?”
“Sharing is good.” She wanted to hit herself on the forehead. She brought lame to an all new level.
He took the plate and jar to the bed and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. She had no idea what to do next. Flirting she liked, but putting all that sass into motion proved impossible.
“Stop looking at me like I’m the wolf in grandma’s bed, intent on stealing your cookies. There’s no other place for both of us to sit.” He patted the quilt beside him. “I don’t bite, it’s not my kink.”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll ask what your kink is. And I don’t think I want to know.” She climbed up on the bed, too aware that she didn’t have on any underwear.
“I want to know yours.” He handed her the bread as big as her entire hand.
“I don’t have any.” She peeled off the edge of the hand pie and peeked inside. A puff of steam escaped with the smell of apples and cheddar and ham.
“It must be me then.” He tucked into his dinner like talking sexual kinks happened all the time.
She ate in silence, careful not to touch him when he passed her the tart lemonade. She wanted him to make love to her and she wanted to come clean about everything. Her profile, her virginity, how hard she was falling for him, all of it. But she didn’t know where to begin on either count. He got up to take the plate to the sink and she wanted to pull him back, keep him beside her until she could figure out a way to make this happen.
He turned off the overhead light as he returned, leaving only the warm glow of his bedside lamp to illuminate the room. He came to her side of the bed and took her hand.
“Would you be more comfortable if I slept at the house, or in the chair?”
She squeezed his hand and shook her head. “I want you close. This just isn’t what I expected.”
He pulled away and went to his side of the bed. “The cabin is pretty rustic, but it’s just me here, and that’s how I like it.”
“This place is an oasis. It’s not that.” She turned towards him and tucked her legs under her, covering her knees with his flannel. “I thought tonight would be an escape from reality, where I could be a shinier, sexier version of me, and you’d be so excited to be with me nothing would be awkward.”
He pushed her still-damp hair behind her ear. “You definitely looked the part.”
“And now it’s just me, no makeup, my hair a lank mess, and half my mind is still in the stable. I feel selfish for wanting to sneak away with you when I should be the one watching those colts.”
“Oh, babe, Deke won’t let anything happen to the twins.” He pulled her close to his chest. “I owe you a special night in town. And a new dress.”
“We owe Carly a dress. I don’t own any.”
He slipped a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. “You really did wear that dress for me.”
“I figured it would up my odds of seeing you without a shirt on.” She tried for a teasing smile, but his face went serious. Her stomach clenched, knowing she’d pushed too far.
He released her, gripped the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift movement. He set his hand on her flannel-covered knee and gave her a look that would have dampened her panties had she been wearing any.
“Babe, you want my shirt off, just ask. It’s a standing invitation whenever we’re alone.”
“Let’s make it a rule that your shirt comes off whenever the cabin door closes.” His broad, muscled shoulders drew her gaze first, then the light hair that highlighted the hard contours he’d earned through work, not a gym. She reached for him and pressed her hand to his chest, his nipple hard beneath her palm.
“No shirts in the cabin. Fantastic idea.” He undid two of her shirt buttons before her nerves kicked in again.
She wrapped her hand around his, stalling his progress. “The lingerie got ruined too. It’s just me under here.”
“I know. My mom is working her laundry magic on it.”
“Your mom has my panties?” She set her head on his shoulder with a groan.
“Relax. She won’t be shocked. We’re too old for her to think we’re celibate virgins.” He laughed, but the sound didn’t warm her like usual.
Instead, she sat up tall and looked into his forever-blue eyes, wishing she’d already told him. All of it, every half-truth and white lie. She didn’t want anything between them, but now wasn’t for explanations. She still had a few more hours of twenty-nine left. She’d spent too long keeping the door to her sexual side locked tight. The celibate virgin of her youth needed to step aside for the passionate woman she wanted to be.
“Okay, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re young and beautiful, and I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re right. I’m turning thirty.” She undid the next button herself. His breathing got shallow, though in the warm glow of the lamp she was in shadow. “And I’m sure she thinks we’re—”
“Please don’t talk about my mother right now.”
She snickered. “Do you have something better to do?”
“You.” He finished undoing the buttons and then pushed the material off her shoulders. His work-roughened hands against her skin, man against woman, aroused the tide of desire she felt whenever he was near. He set his forehead against hers and her anxieties drowned in the warmth of him. This was Ray. This was right. This was what she’d been waiting for.
She kissed him then, his face in her hands, only the slightest roughness of stubble beneath her palms. She leaned into him and his chest hair teased her nipples. She tasted him, the earthy maleness she remembered from last week, along with a new excitement as he stroked her tongue with his.
He kissed his way to her ear, his breath making her shiver. “Let me make love to you, Jacy.”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded rich and throaty, as different from her usual tone as she was about to be. He released her and stood. She prayed she hadn’t actually whimpered out loud.
He pulled back the quilt and blankets to the foot of the bed, arranging the pillows behind her. He pulled a condom packet from his pocket, shed his pants and then joined her on the bed, easing her back against the pillows. She didn’t have much of a chance to admire his toned stomach, firm thighs or the thickness between.
He kissed her without hesitation, as if this was what he was born to do. The solid heat of his body against hers flooded her senses. She couldn’t get enough of the warm scent of his skin, the drugging taste of his kiss or the rough slide of his hands as he touched her. She wanted it all, to soak up layer upon layer of their lovemaking. She reveled in the sensation of that gorgeous body she’d admired pressing her into the bed. The weight of him a comfort and a heady reminder of the power he had over her.
With his hand on the back of her neck, he lifted her head and fanned her red hair against his white pillows before releasing her. “This is how I imagined you.”
“You thought of me like this?” She slid her hands along the sculpted muscle of his arms and shoulders, exploring what she’d only dreamed of touching.
“You thought of us too.” He lowered his head, trailing warm, wet kisses down her neck.
“I think I’ve wanted you forever, I just hadn’t found you.”
He groaned and covered her breasts with his hands, squeezing and pushing them together. “I love your breasts. When we got caught in the rain, I could see your nipples, and I had to taste them, had to feel them beneath my tongue.”
He dipped his head and gave each nipple a long, slow lick. She lifted her arms overhead as he played with her, pleasure coming at her in waves. She loved it all, the soft feathery strokes of his lips, the swirl of his tongue and the pull of his mouth as he suckled her.
“And then you showed up in that dress with the straps I could slip down. I could feast on you anytime I’d l
ike.”
She arched her back and hummed her pleasure. He slipped his hard thigh between hers, bringing just enough pressure against her center to ease the building ache. She closed her eyes and dove into the sensations. He traced his hands over her body, followed by whispered kisses and teasing nibbles. She’d never felt so feminine, sexy, beautiful. She’d shelved those parts of herself to focus on everything else, and it was as if his touch gave those gifts back to her.
He moved his attentions down her stomach, across her hips, to her thighs. She parted her legs as if it were the most natural thing in the world to open herself to him. The bed moved as he shifted his body. He tilted her hips to one side and rested his head against her inner thigh, letting her upper leg rest on his shoulder.
And then he kissed her. Nothing prepared her for the storm of sensation. She reached for him, pushing her hand into the soft waves of his hair. She gasped for breath and grabbed the edge of the mattress with her free hand, needing an anchor to steady herself. She moved with his mouth, the rhythm of his talented tongue. She couldn’t help the moans that escaped as her legs began to quiver. He stroked her deep inside and her breath stalled. Waves of pleasure washed over her, so hard and fast she felt swept away by the undertow.
Ray moved over her as she caught her breath, protecting them before he shifted her body onto her back. She opened her eyes as he lowered himself onto her, his thick erection cradled against her slick heat. She rocked against him, so sensitive to the pressure there. She looked up at him, intoxicated by the way his desire for her showed on his face.
She locked in on his pale-blue gaze and slid her leg out, moving her foot over his calf, thigh and around his hip, opening herself to him. After the pleasure he’d showed her, she wanted him to find the same kind of release.
He pushed inside and she gasped, pulling in a sharp breath. The stretching sensation wasn’t painful, just foreign. She focused on his gaze as he eased in, rocking into her with exquisite control until she’d taken all of him.
“You’re so tight.” He rolled his hips, pressing into her but not thrusting as he began a slow rhythm. “It’s been a while, huh?”
