by Alexa Davis
I clutched at him as I felt my pleasure building again, and he opened his eyes to watch another orgasm overtake me. His eyes went dark as he let his body fall over mine, his chest rubbing over me as he moved inside me, and he pressed his cheek to mine and kissed m jaw between kisses and nips to my jaw.
“Libby, I love you,” he murmured in my ear as he thrust with a steady, solid rhythm. I wrapped my legs tight around him and dug my fingernails into his shoulders and back as I clung to him, clasping tight with the muscles inside, to hold him in me.
“Say it again,” I panted as he shuddered, his heart pounding against my breasts.
“I love… you,” he growled, pushing hard into me, and holding himself there. I held him tight with my whole body, embracing him inside me as he pulsed and throbbed.
“I love you, too, Tucker James.” He gently collapsed onto me, letting me hold most of his weight while I clung to him, still squeezing down around him, trying to suspend us in the moment if possible. He chuckled and rolled us to the side, so we were facing each other, and he wouldn’t crush me under him.
“You smell like sex and sweaty man,” he teased as he rubbed my back and the leg that was still slung over his waist.
“You’re lucky I didn’t just tell you to get in the shower. I’d be back downstairs right now,” I retorted, then sighed. “We do this part well, don’t we?” I felt him stiffen and he pulled away, backing to the edge of the bed, and staring at me.
“Really, Libby? Right back to that? Damn it, when are you going to let yourself see that we do it all well.” He sat up and I stared at his back at the angry red lines that had yet to fade from my fingernails etching my rapture into his skin. “We do dinner in the kitchen well, and hard work, and making Olivia feel safe and happy. There is so much right about us together, that the only thing that seems wrong is the way you see me.” He stood and paced toward the bathroom, shaking his head, and keeping his back to me.
“Tucker, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice catching as I tried not to cry.
“I don’t want you to be sorry, anymore,” he replied, “I want you to open your eyes and see that—that I may not be the perfection you’re looking for, but I am doing my best to be a decent human being, and I deserve credit for that. I’m not a monster, Libby. I don’t hurt or use people.” He looked over his shoulder and I could see his eyes were red rimmed and glassy. “And I’m not your booty call. So, this? This is over. I am your friend, whether you believe me, or not. But not like this.” He disappeared into the bathroom, and I flung his blanket over me and cried, humiliated that I had hurt him and made him feel used.
I waited until he came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and he found me sitting on the end of the bed, my clothes in my arms, shielding me from his sight.
“I don’t know where my room is, may I please use your shower?” He nodded and stepped to one side, letting me past. Once I was inside, he stepped up behind me, and I glanced at him in the mirror, wide eyed, hoping he wasn’t angry anymore. He didn’t touch me, but took a towel out of the cabinet below the vanity and set it on the counter.
“You’ll need this,” he said quietly, and turned to go. I dropped my clothes and touched his arm, and electricity jolted through my fingers into him, making him jerk. “I know. You’re sorry. Don’t worry about it, Libby. It’s better that we know where we stand.” His eyes met mine in the still-foggy mirror, then he left me alone with the clean, fresh smell of his soap and a complete understanding of how screwed up I still was.
I showered quickly, getting clean and dried in record time. My hair went back in a slick ponytail, and when I cleared the fresh layer of steam I’d added from the mirror, I almost couldn’t tell I’d been crying. Tucker deserved better than I was giving him. My chest compressed my heart and lungs, and a sick feeling sank heavily to the pit of my stomach. I looked myself in the eye in the mirror, and I hated what I saw. I’d been selfish and thoughtless, taking everything he gave me and giving him only suspicion and ingratitude in return. Gratitude was the crux of it. He had never asked me to debase myself to him, not like Andrew had.
Showing Tucker I was grateful, and that I appreciated all he did and wanted to do for me wasn’t weakness. But how could I do that without looking like an abuser? I’d been begged for forgiveness, only to have it bite me in the face. I had to make Tucker see that I saw him, the friend who had always been there for me, through the best and worst in my life. I fingered the necklace I wore with my mother’s wedding ring on it. Andrew had hated that I wore it on a chain, and I’d had to hide it under my clothes when we were married. I’d started wearing it again, to make me brave, after Carl had come looking for Kristy. Now, it gave me an idea of how I could make it up to Tucker for being such an idiot. If there was any making up we could do now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tucker
I stuck around long enough to point Libby in the direction of her own room, then snuck into the kitchen for a bite to eat from Patty, whom I knew would be elbow-deep in supper preparation. I grabbed a Heineken from the fridge and a couple of fresh-baked rolls from the cooling rack before she had a chance to swat me away. With a sharp look and a sigh, the thickset housekeeper pushed a plate of lunch meat toward me on a cutting board.
“Don’t know that we expected to see you or Libby for the rest of the day,” she teased. I blushed, but I knew she meant it kindly. Patty had been with us for so long, there was nothing we could do, or that she could say, that would surprise one another.
“That’s not going quite the way I’d hoped, Patty. Thanks for the snack though. I should get back out on the line.”
“Well, you’re not going now, are you? There’s a big barbeque planned for this evening, and you only have a few more hours of daylight to work in, anyway.” I took a bite out of the ham sandwich I’d made myself.
“Even more reason to get moving. I’ve got no idea when I’m going to get called back to answer to the Ethics Committee, and with Danny hurt, I need to get as much done as possible. You know he’s only going to try to get back to work sooner if he thinks there’s too much for the hands to handle on their own.”
“Right, like half those men haven’t been keeping this ranch in working order since he was in diapers,” she scoffed. I laughed and accepted the brown paper sack she handed to me.
“Don’t stay away too long, lad. Things can’t swing your way if you aren’t around to catch them.” I raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. The sting of feeling used wasn’t entirely new to me, but I would’ve preferred to leave the feeling of my one heartbreak in the past. I wish Libby had understood that she wasn’t the only person in the world that had been hurt by someone she loved. Her abuse had made her pull so deep into herself that she’d lost her compassion, at least when it came to men.
“I’ll see you late tonight, if you happen to catch me stealing from the pantry around midnight,” I promised her with a grin.
“Out. Out of my kitchen. Get to work, and I’ll leave you a plate. If you’re lucky, your father and brother won’t ignore the label and eat it. Now, get.” She waved her apron at me like she had when I was a kid, and I backed out, feigning fear. I couldn’t help but grin when I heard her laughing behind me. Despite the ache Libby had left in my gut, it was nice to be home again.
Pete, the horse master, was in the stables when I got there and he brought me Cooper, one of Danny’s broken mustangs, while I grabbed my tack. I saddled up the roan stallion and rode out, waving at the men I passed as I slowly made my way out to the lower pastures. It appeared the party had ended back at the house, as soon as Patty had reminded the men there was a feast waiting for them once they were finished with their work.
My parents and brother were fortunate to have built such loyal relationships with their employees. Coming home wouldn’t be the same without having a beer with the guys, trading hunting stories, or hearing updates about their families. If you were a part of Lago Colina Ranch, you were family. It had been that
way for as far back as I could remember.
I paused to double check my work on the fences I’d already repaired, grateful they were holding. It had been years since I’d worked on the ranch, and despite my daily workout regime at the gym in my condominium, I was sore from what I’d accomplished already. “No substitute for farm work, Cooper,” I chuckled to the roan, as I looped the reins over the pommel of the saddle so he could graze without them getting in the way.
He was a young horse, but Danny had done such a good job training him already that he walked alongside me as I banged on and shook the fence, testing the strength of my repairs. Satisfied, we rode a short way to the next repair, and repeated the strength-testing at each stop repeatedly as I worked my way out to the upper pastures. It was quieter away from the industry of the ranch, and I was overcome with the feeling of being utterly alone.
Lonely as it was, it wasn’t a bad feeling, to be alone on top of the world. I looked all around from my vantage point at the crest of the hill, and could see the ranch off in the distance; my altitude, and the cleared pastures between us made the mile of land between me and home seem much smaller. Out on the other side of the hill, where I was headed, I could see the wild mustangs in the far distance. I glanced down at Cooper, whose stayed perfectly still, except for his ears, which twitched every direction as he listened to the whinnies that floated to us in the breeze.
Lago Colina was a place of peace, no matter the turmoil of life. Even when we were working at breakneck paces, dragging our bruised and worn-out bodies to bed at the end of the day, working the land seemed tranquil compared to the bustle of rest of the world. I tried to forget how low I felt, the deep ache that was left behind by Libby’s refusal to see that she wasn’t the only damaged person in the world, and more than anything that if I made her happy, she deserved it.
Cooper tugged at his bit, and I gave him his head as he trotted down the hill to the next stack of replacement posts, about a hundred yards down the hillside. The post holes were dug, so it was a simple matter of dropping a six-foot post into a hole, back-fill, and wrap the post with barbed twine. It was repetitive, but I got into a rhythm as Cooper quietly grazed behind me, so that my mind went empty except for the work. All that existed, was the thud of the post in the hole, the smell of the soil I pressed around the wood, and wrapping the prickly wire, running it through my heavy gloves without it catching on me. Post after post, the thin sound of the wire unspinning from the spool, and before I knew it, the sun was almost hitting the horizon.
I had just turned taken my gloves off and turned to collect Cooper, who had wandered a few feet farther than I realized, when I saw a figure approaching on horseback. When she got closer, I could see that it was Libby, and I cursed Patty under my breath for meddling, as usual. I walked Cooper over to her, and helped her off Shiny, one of my mother’s mares. Cooper greeted Shiny warmly, and shamed me into doing the same for Libby.
“What were they thinking, sending you out as it was getting dark? I wasn’t even planning on being out this long, I just got into what I was doing, and time flew,” I babbled. “So, how about we both head in, before one of us ends up with a horse stepping in a gopher hole.” I was as grimy and sweaty as I had been when she arrived, and she smelled like soap and Chanel. I wanted her to get in her car and leave, almost as much as I wanted to drag her to the ground and cover myself with the touch of her skin, one last time.
“Well, I agree that we should get a little closer to the big house, but Patty sent me with dinner for you, so we don’t have to go all the way back, do we?” She patted the picnic basket tied to the saddle.
“I’m sorry she made you come get me,” I began, but she cut me off.
“No. I’m sorry. I mean, I asked her if I could come out here to you, and she gave me all this food… It was a bad idea.” She hid her face behind her hands, and I felt my resolve weaken further. She was so pretty and vulnerable in the dying light of the day, I couldn’t embarrass her by sending her away.
“You know what? I actually have a perfect place to eat, where we can have the benefit of not needing our flashlights, and still have enough light to enjoy the food you so thoughtfully brought me.”
“Not thoughtful, more…selfish,” she countered. “Which, I’m finding, has been a running theme in my life recently. But,” she held up a hand before I could argue, “give me this one last thing, and I have resolved to find a balance between what I need to be happy, and what I can give without losing myself.”
“Well, all right, then. Shall we?” We walked the horses to help avoid any dangerous footing we wouldn’t be able to see from the saddle, and I guided her on a trajectory that would take us to the closest edge of the garden, rather than the stable. The strings of lights that my mother kept up year-round were already lit as dusk settled over the mountain, and just before we walked down below the tree line, we paused to watch the last rays of sunlight hit the lake far below.
“It is so beautiful here. I know I’ve said it before, but how you manage to stay away and do business in the city—soul-sucking business, by the way—is beyond me.” I barked out a surprised laugh at her frank description of my work. Cooper jerked his head and pranced a little when the sudden sound startled him, and I apologized and stroked his face until he calmed again.
“It is lovely, but this place doesn’t really need me,” I confessed.
“That’s true,” she replied and I looked sharply at her, but she continued to watch the descending sun. “I mean, in town, you have clients and partners and even former colleagues who depend on you. I would know. I’m probably the neediest of them all.” She reached out and touched my hand. It was a fleeting, whisper-soft touch, but the moment her skin brushed mine, electricity surged from our point of contact through my body, making my heart speed up.
I moved away from her, pointing out the place we wanted to lay out the picnic, and led her down the hillside to the garden wall without talking. She set out the food and I watched from a safe distance, afraid that if I touched her again, I’d forget everything but how good it felt to have her skin under the palm of my hand. Every second with her was torture, from the sheer magnitude of the joy it brought me to move inside her as I held her close, to the pain of knowing that the physical was all she’d admit to enjoying with me.
She emptied the picnic basket, and from another saddle bag, produced a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and glasses. We sat on the gingham picnic cloth under the soft white glow of the string of lights that draped from the veranda roof to posts my brothers and I had put it years before. I watched as she served me, once she’d made it clear that I wasn’t to touch anything, and handed me a glass of wine.
“I wanted to give you the apology you deserved, after being, well… kind of a heel earlier,” she began, once I had my oversized plate full of smoked meats, potatoes, and Western beans.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” I replied. I stared down at the food and realized I wasn’t hungry enough to force a single bite into my mouth, despite the award-winning barbeque skills of Miss Patty and old Jake.
“No. It’s not okay, and I already gave up on the perfect apology that would make everything okay. I know I don’t have anything to say that would just make things right again, because words just wouldn’t cut it.” She pushed food around on her plate, and I cringed, knowing she was as unhappy o be here as I was.
“Look, you don’t have to say or do anything, Libby. You have a right to your feelings.” She scoffed and nodded at me.
“I do, don’t I? But I have this niggling feeling in my chest, that says I’m not supposed to let my feelings hurt someone else, especially when that person has only brought goodness to me,” she looked at me from under her lashes and I shrugged.
“Yes, I guess there is that,” I replied, unsure of what else I could’ve said. Instead of continuing to speak, she stood and walked out of the range of the lights, so all I could see was her dim shape, pacing. “Libby, please come back. I don’t know wha
t you want from me.” She edged closer to the light, on my side of the blanket.
“That’s why I brought you dinner, and made a clumsy apology, and am scared out of my skin right now. There is something I want from you.” I waited and watched her take a deep breath, and another, blowing them out through pursed lips. I patted the ground next to me and she gave a nervous laugh and joined me on the red and white checked cloth, her hands clasped in front of her.
“What do you need from me, Libby?” I prompted her, as she stared down at her hands.
“Right. I had this all thought out, and now I’m sort of stuck.” She cleared her throat and held out her closed fist, until I held my hand under it. She spread her fingers and a small cylindrical object landed in my palm. I held the ring towards the light, and then peered in the dimness at her neck, where I was used to seeing it.
“You want me to take your grandmother’s ring?” I asked, confused.
“I’m asking you to keep it for me, until you feel like giving it back to me,” she replied. I faced her, and she tried to smile, but her mouth crumpled like she was going to cry, instead. “My grandma wore it, and my mom, and they had good marriages, even though—” Her voice broke off as she cleared the tears from her throat. “—Even though Mom and Dad died too young. I always wanted to wear it too, but Andrew thought it was little and cheap and refused to let me use it when we got married.” I turned the antique silver band in my hand, examining the delicate scrolled detailing that wound around the edges.
“I think it’s beautiful, and simple. But Andrew never liked simple, did he?”
“No, he did not. And to be honest, I’m simple, myself.” She scoffed. “Tucker, I love you.” The words fell from her lips and pierced my chest, and it was all I could do to sit still and hear her out. “I forget, sometimes, that what we have isn’t new. You’ve been my friend for my entire adult life—longer, even.” I chuckled.
