Bittersweet Return (Dancing Moon Ranch Book 6)

by Patricia Watters

  After a few moments, Marc ducked through the front flaps and stood looking down at her. "It's not even eight o'clock," he said. "Were you asleep?"

  "I'm not sure, but I guess I was, because you woke me up." Kit raked her fingers through her hair and said, while looking up at him, "What happened? I thought you were coming back after dinner." She resisted the urge to grab his hand and pull him down on the mattress beside her and stretch out with him and kiss him senseless. Instead, she patted the mattress, and said, "It's okay for you to sit here. We can communicate better."

  Marc lowered himself to the mattress, but instead of sitting, he stretched out and propped his upper body on his elbow, and said, "After dinner I felt like going to see Rick. Little Marc was still awake so I showed him my book of dinosaurs."

  Kit looked at his animated face and felt a little frisson of pleasure that he was excited about spending time with his nephew. He was coming around a lot faster than she'd expected. "Then you had to have brought the book with you, like you planned to read to him," she said.

  Marc nodded. "But that was after I talked to Maddy. I used to read the book to her and she liked it, so I decided to read it to little Marc."

  "So, did it go any better with Maddy?" Kit asked, while thinking Marc had the kind of face she'd like to look at across the breakfast table for maybe, the rest of her life.

  Marc nodded. "It was okay. She warmed up some, but it's like I lost my little sister and a new one moved into her room. She's different. She used to want to hug me."

  "Did you want her to?" Kit asked.

  Marc shrugged. "Yeah. It was awkward."

  "Give her time," Kit said. "You've been gone four years and she needs to get to know you again, but she's also fourteen and teenage girls are a different species."

  "I suppose," Marc said. "I talked to Mom about it and she said pretty much the same thing. But it doesn't bother me that Tyler's four years older than he was, just Maddy."

  "That's because Tyler was never wrapped in pink and wearing tiny socks with lace around them. But you can't have that sweet, adorable baby sister forever. If you want another baby girl wrapped in pink you'll have to activate your pterodactyl and create your own. So tell me about little Marc. You said you read him a book," Kit said, leaving Marc with images of a little daughter. He was definitely moving into family mode.

  "You're messing with my head again," Marc said.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," Kit replied, while brushing the tip of her finger across his knuckles.

  "Just for the record, my pterodactyl's already activated," Marc said.

  "I know." Kit replied. "Khakis are a dead giveaway. So tell me about little Marc. I suppose he sat in your lap and listened in rapt attention while you told him all about dinosaurs."

  Marc's face became animated again, as he said, "Yeah, and he called me Dada."

  "Okay then." Kit moved to sit cross-legged, held her thumb and index finger about a half inch apart, and said, "The gap just closed some."

  "What's with the gap?" Marc asked, while staring at her fingers. "What did I say?"

  Kit reached around and tugged the rubber band from his ponytail then ran her fingers through his hair, and said, "You told me Marc called you Dada and you liked the sound of it."

  Marc rolled his eyes up, like he was trying to see what she was doing with his hair, and said, "I didn't say I liked the sound of it. How did you know?"

  "Just a guess," Kit replied, "and the fact that you went over there with a book of dinosaurs to read to a little boy when you could have been here trying to show me your tattoo instead."

  "He looked at the pictures like he was interested," Marc said. "He'd put his hand over each dinosaur then look up at me like he wanted me to tell him what it was called, and I think he might have wanted to try to say the names, but he was more interested in turning the pages so he could see the next dinosaur."

  "Keep talking like that and the gap's going to snap shut." Kit kissed him on the forehead. "So he has your name, your hair, your eyes, and loves dinosaurs. What's your next plan?"

  "I was thinking about maybe taking him on a dig when he's around eight or nine. He seems unusually smart, so I'm sure he could understand about muon tomography by the time he's that age if I simplified it some," Marc replied, clearly more interested in talking about little Marc than what Kit was doing, which was to comb her fingers through his hair and study the color.

  As she did, she said, "But he's going to grow up on a ranch so he might be more interested in bull riding than muons." She used her fingers to comb his hair back from his face so she could look at him. He really was a handsome guy, getting more so every time she was with him. And those incredible eyes... A little distant at the moment, for very encouraging reasons.

  "I don't think he'll be a bull rider," Marc said. "We've got the Indian mound here and I plan to start him on a collection of fossils."

  "Or you could put together your own team of paleontologists," Kit said. "That's why God gave you a pterodactyl to play with when you were a little boy, and someone else to play with when you became a man and didn't want to put away your childish toys."

  Marc eyed her with mild irritation. "This is the half of the time you don't make any sense. Are we talking about turning my pterodactyl loose now?"

  "No," Kit said. "I'm just pointing out the obvious. You want to teach little Marc about dinosaurs and get him started on fossils but it takes more than a book and a few fossils to keep a child interested. You actually have to spend time with them." She toyed with a thatch of hair, studying its golden highlights. "You do have nice hair," she mused. "A daughter would be lucky to get it. She'd never have to curl it or add highlights, and girls like to dig too."

  Marc grabbed her hand to stop what she was doing, and said, "You're playing with my hair and making me horny. How far is this going tonight? I need to have some direction."

  "Not far enough to create a team of paleontologists," Kit said, "but it could include a little field archaeology above the waist."

  Marc eyed her, dubiously. "Both of us?"

  "We're not all that different above the waist," Kit said. "I just have a little more debitage under my mounds than you do. If we follow standard archeological procedure, the surface inspection is the first step in investigating the target area, and if the target lacks sufficient definition, systematic subsurface coring is called for."

  "Korban, I hope to hell you know what you're doing because you could get us both in a lot of trouble. I don't have any condoms."

  "That's why we're stopping at the waist," Kit said. "Well, that and a few other reasons I mentioned earlier."

  "You're still messing with my head. What reasons?"

  "Love, commitment, getting rid of a little more baggage," Kit replied. "But we can talk about that some if you want."

  Marc dragged himself up to a sitting position, and said, "Yeah, that might be a good idea because what's going on now isn't working for me. I don't really feel like playing with myself, and you're talking metaphor and making things worse."

  "The gap just closed another centimeter."

  "That's what I mean," Marc groused. "You still don't make much sense."

  "You stopped what I was doing to talk. That’s a giant step forward."

  "Great, so go ahead and talk."

  "Maybe we could have a little more interaction here," Kit said.

  Marc drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, and waited silently, like maybe he was actually ready to listen, and when he said nothing more, Kit moved around so she was facing him, and said, "I learned something very interesting when I was talking to Maddy earlier today."

  That got Marc's attention. "Something interesting, like what?"

  "Maddy told me it was your father who insisted everyone leave your room the way it was when you left, not your mother. Your mother was too upset to go in there. But your father spent a lot of time reading your notebooks."

  Marc looked at her, baffled. "I don't k
now why he would. He was never interested in any of it before."

  "Maybe he wanted to get to know his son," Kit said. "Maybe he never could figure you out, which is understandable since you're a very complex man, and were probably equally as complex as a kid, and he wanted to know what he did wrong and how to fix it if you ever came back."

  When Marc folded his arms, Kit immediately untangled them, and said, "Don't do that. You're shutting him out again. Is it so hard for you to believe he loves you as much as he loves your brothers and Maddy? He brought you home from the hospital. He's had you since you were an infant. Look how quickly you've bonded with little Marc and he's not even your son."

  "He looks like me," Marc said.

  "Don't try and pull the 'my father loves all my brothers more because they look like him bit,' because that won't work with me," Kit said. "Besides, little Marc doesn't look like you. He has your hair and eyes, which he got from your mother, but he has Rick's features. You bonded with him because he's like a link between you and your family. But I also saw the way your father was looking at you when we first got here. He was angry because you left and never contacted them, and he was worried about your mother, but there was no question he loves you as much as a father can love a son. You just don't see it."

  Marc started to fold his arms again, but Kit reached out and stopped him. "Don't do this," she said. "We're not through talking yet."

  "How long is this going to go on?" Marc grumbled.

  "Until you get rid of all the baggage," Kit replied. "You still have some left."

  "What if I don't want to get into a committed relationship?" Marc said, eyeing her intently.

  "Then I'll find out before we consummate whatever this is we have going on," Kit replied, "which, I admit, is pretty convoluted."

  "Why are you so determined to do this?" Marc asked, a slight frown on his brow.

  "Because I have this annoying investigative streak in me that won't let me quit," Kit replied. She placed her hand on his face and said, while running her thumb along his lips, "And because I happen to think you're a man worth loving."

  Marc started to fold his arms again, but when Kit reached out to stop him, he curved his hands around her arms, pulled her to him, and kissed her. And she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back the way she'd been wanting to all day, and all evening, and about every moment she'd been with him since the day she'd first laid eyes on him and watched him dab deet on his chest while standing in front of a team of archeologists and giving them a dry account of how he planned to proceed with the dig.

  Marc's hands came up to cup her breasts, and this time Kit didn't stop what he was doing, and instead, gave a little moan of pleasure and ran her hands up his back and down and started to tug at his shirt to pull it out from his khakis so she could feel bare flesh against her palms. Then she gave another little moan of pleasure as she moved her hands up his bare muscular back and over the angles of his shoulder blades and down the indentation along the center of his spine.

  Breaking the kiss, Marc said, "Are you sure you're okay with the waist-up plan?"

  "Yes, as long as you can stop at the waist," Kit said. "And we need to get rid of this." She started unbuttoning his shirt, but before she was done, Marc tugged it over his head and tossed it aside then started unbuttoning her shirt. Kit looked down at the big fingers releasing each button, and said to him, "Are we breaking your father's rules?"

  "Dad was pretty specific when he talked to us, and it was all about keeping it in our pants. It's still there, so I guess we're okay." Marc dragged her shirt from around her, released her bra, and began a thorough exploration with his tongue and his lips, until Kit felt her breath coming fast and shallow, and little plaintive moans escaped her lips. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she scrunched it in her hands and released it and tangled it again, then ran her hands down his bare back and up to his shoulders and down, and a little further down.

  Extending the boundaries a little wouldn't matter...

  And inside the waistband of his khakis in back, where she felt the rise of his butt and the side of his hip. She let out another little moan of pleasure as her hand moved a little further around to the front.

  Then his hands began doing wondrous things—one cupping and teasing and stroking where his lips had been, the other slipping inside the waistband of her khakis and moving down her belly.

  I hope to hell you know what you're doing...

  Which didn't seem as important right now, because what Marc was doing felt so good

  She moved her hand a little further around and felt a brushing of hair and something hard

  You could get us both in a lot of trouble. I don't have any condoms

  Didn't matter. It was the wrong time of the month

  What if I don't want to get into a committed relationship?

  Then I'll find out before we consummate whatever this is we have going on

  Which she was on the verge of doing if she didn't stop things now.

  Reeling herself in, she sucked in several ragged breaths and released what she was holding and removed her hand from inside Marc's pants, and tugged his hand from inside hers, and pulled his head away from her breast, and said, "We'd better stop. This isn't working."

  Marc raised moist, passion-filled eyes to her, and replied, "I didn't think it would." After looking at her breasts for an inordinate amount of time, he hooked a finger in her bra and handed it to her, and said, "You'd better cover up or this won't stop."

  Kit put on her bra, then reached for her shirt, and said, "It wasn't easy to stop what you were doing. I wanted it all. You must be very frustrated now."

  "I am," Marc said, as he re-buttoned her shirt. "We'll work on things."

  She wanted him to expand on what, exactly, he meant, and was on the verge of asking, but she knew he needed time to sort through it all before moving to the next level. The problem was, the step from where they were now to commitment was a giant one, and in between, a whole lot of hormones were demanding to be recognized, and she was running out of reasons why they shouldn't be.

  "I want to stay here with you tonight," Marc said.

  "I know," Kit replied, "but if you do, one thing will lead to another, and that's not the way we need to work on things."

  "When, then?" Marc asked.

  "We're not setting any time limits on anything," Kit replied. "I know what I feel, and you have to come to your own conclusions about the way you feel. There's also a pyramid waiting for you in Belize, and the work there is important to you. Those are the things you need to work out." She curved her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, and said, "But I still liked everything about the waist-up plan, even if it failed."

  Marc dropped his forehead against hers. "You're driving me a little crazy, you know that."

  "Then you've come a long way from being the professor, and that's good," Kit said. "He was so all-together, nothing could have budged him, least of all being a little crazy."

  "Yeah, but you're still sending me to my tent to play with myself."

  "Maybe not forever," Kit said, leaving him with that thought as she sent him on his way.

  ***

  The following day, shortly after Grandma Hansen returned from visiting her brother, she greeted Marc on the front porch of her log house and gave him a bright smile and a big hug, which Marc expected. He was sure each of her grandchildren thought they were her favorite. He always did. But that was before he learned he was no blood relation. Still, he knew that wouldn't matter. When Sam married Jayne, Grandma swept Becca into the Hansen family fold as if she'd been born into it.

  "Let me look at you." Maureen held Marc at arm's length. "You are a handsome dog, ponytail and all," she said, while giving his ponytail a little jerk.

  "There weren't any barbers in the jungles of Belize and a ponytail's easy to keep," Marc explained, "but I was thinking about getting rid of it just before coming here."

  Long hair looks really hot
, and combined with big balls raises your score...

  "What are you smiling about?" Maureen asked.

  Marc looked at her, baffled. "What?"

  "You were grinning like the Cheshire cat, and your eyes had a far-off twinkle in them," Maureen said. "Or maybe I shouldn't ask. My Adam used to get that kind of look on his face when he was feeling playful."

  Marc tried to digest that. They'd grown up hearing all of Grandma's praises about Grandpa Hansen until the man was a legend, but at no time had she ever referred to him as playful.

  You work out your own marital euphemisms... some get very creative...

  Marc couldn't even begin to imagine what Kit's euphemisms would be, but there was no question, they'd be creative.

  "You're smiling again," Grandma said. "Does it by any chance have to do with Kit?"

  Marc eyed his grandmother, dubiously. "Have you been talking to Mom?"

  Maureen laughed. "Honey, when a man shows up at the ranch with a beautiful woman who's his female counterpart, then gets that look in his eye, I don't have to talk to anybody. You might as well write it across your forehead with a big marker."

  "Kit's funny," Marc said. "She has a really good sense of humor."

  "That's good," Maureen replied. "It'll keep you young. It also makes bedtime more fun."

  "Uh, Kit and I aren't there yet," Marc said. But definitely closer, he mused. Expanding the boundaries was half way there. Kit's response was almost startling. And when they engaged in a brief male-female examination, there was no question Kit liked what they were doing.

  "I'm talking about after you're married," Maureen said. "Humor and playfulness keep the sparks of passion alive and make the marriage bed a welcome place to be. Just a piece of advice from a woman who knows."

  Marc took a couple of moments to process that. Odd advice to get from a woman in her seventies. "I'll keep it in mind." Not a hard thing to do, with it on his mind most of the time, although not in the context of a marriage bed...

  Look around me little brother. Do you see anything here I should regret?