Into the Arms of a Cowboy

by Isabella Ashe

  A moment later, Cassie straddled his body and lowered herself onto him, inch by delicious inch. Jess’s hands found her waist, supporting her and urging her on. Her breath caught in her throat as he filled her slowly, then thrust home.

  His eyes bore into her, his lids heavy with arousal. “Do you like being on top, Cassie?”

  She nodded, feeling the hot flush of mingled pleasure and embarrassment that stained her face and chest. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all, as long as you give me a turn once in a while.”

  “Any time.” She moved her hips, seductively, and he moaned. “Want to trade now?”

  “No, damn it. I want you to do that again.”

  She did. And again, and again, until they were both moving together toward their mutual release. By the time they collapsed together, exhausted and satisfied, their bodies were slick with perspiration.

  Good thing, too, because it helped explain why the pillow was wet under Cassie’s cheek. She cried tears of joy, mostly, tears of thankfulness. Fate had brought her together with Jess, even for a short time. Plenty of people went through their whole lives without a love like this. A week worth of heaven ought to be enough.

  But it wasn’t, of course. Not nearly.

  When Jess woke, Cassie was still nestled against him, fast asleep. Her hair, spread over the pillow, gleamed in the morning sunlight like antique gold. He considered waking her, then changed his mind. He couldn’t stand to disturb her.

  He’d slept with his arms wrapped around her, and as he gently disentangled himself, he felt a sharp pang of regret at losing her warmth and the softness of her breasts against his chest. She murmured something, rolled onto her stomach, and flung one arm flung across his side of the bed as if she, too, missed the intimate contact. The ring on her finger caught the light, and Jess smiled to himself.

  He showered, shaved--not without an arousing flash of memory as he leaned against the bathroom sink--then pulled on his uniform: slacks, tan shirt, and a dark tie. Back in the living room, Jess unlocked the drawer where he kept his semiautomatic pistol. He slipped the weapon into the holster on his duty belt, along with his handcuffs, pepper spray, and pager. The familiar weight felt good around his waist. He was eager to get back to work, even if it meant an entire day without the precious angel still asleep in his bed. It would be a rare treat, having a woman he loved to come home to.

  He was still basking in the warm glow of that prospect when he pulled into the parking lot outside the Bitter Creek Substation. The station wasn’t impressive, just a cement-block building with desks enough for Jess, a few deputies, and a Service Officer to keep the office running smoothly.

  When Jess walked in, Chad was helping himself to a cup of coffee. “Logan! Good to have you back,” he called. “How’s the foot?”

  As Jess strode to the sink, he was pleased to note that he barely felt a twinge as his full weight hit his right ankle. “Almost good as new, thanks.” He grabbed his mug--a souvenir of his first National Circuit Finals Rodeo--from the dish drain. “Hey, who’s been using my cup?”

  The ruddy, round-cheeked deputy grinned. “I thought I might as well. We weren’t sure you’d ever make it back, not with that pretty lady you’ve got stashed at your place. Cassie, right?”

  Jess poured himself a cup of thick, steaming brew, sipped it, and grimaced at the bitter taste. He helped himself to a handful of thimble-sized creamers. “Right. Cassie. She is a beauty, isn’t she?”

  Chad shook his head and let out a long, low whistle. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. From what I hear through the grapevine, you went jewelry shopping yesterday. Any comment?”

  Jess chuckled as he emptied four or five creamers into his cup. The milky liquid swirled and disappeared into murky blackness. “Nope. That information’s strictly classified.”

  “Forget it.” Chad, a confirmed bachelor at 24, heaved a sigh. “The way you say her name tells me all I need to know. She’s got her claws into you but good, doesn’t she?”

  “It’s not like that at all,” Jess protested. “Cassie is--”

  Chad held up a hand to forestall his next words. “Don’t bother. It’s a lost cause, I can tell.” He let out a dejected sigh. “So much for our guy talk, now that you’ve gone over to the other side.”

  Jess laughed and clapped the deputy on the back. “It’ll happen to you, too, one of these days. Then you’ll understand.”

  “No way. Not me. Never.” Chad gulped the last of his coffee, rinsed his mug, and set it back on the rack. “I’m gonna stay a free man come hell or high water.”

  Jess was still chuckling as he slid into the chair behind his desk, but his laughter turned into a stifled groan as he eyed the pile of paperwork in his inbox. He couldn’t actually see the inbox, of course, for the blizzard of forms and reports engulfing it.

  End-of-the-month crime statistics. Budgets. Press releases. Requests for his attendance at Rotary meetings, DARE functions, and school activities. Insurance forms to fill out in triplicate. Paperwork was his least favorite part of the job, but he needed to catch up before he even thought about acting as a back-up officer in the field.

  Jess was lost in the convoluted language of county’s new noise abatement program when Angela came in, peeling off her coat. Jess glanced up and said a brief hello, then dived back into the muddled regulations. How the hell was he expected to enforce a law he couldn’t even understand? Why couldn’t politicians use plain, simple English for once?

  “Jess? Excuse me, but. . .”

  He looked up to find Angela hovering over his desk, a troubled expression on her usually cheerful face. She clutched a sheet of paper.

  “What’s wrong? Have a seat.” Jess pushed a spare desk chair her way.

  Angela sat, still stricken. “There’s something you should see,” she said. “A photo faxed here last week by the Crimes Analysis Unit in Redding. It’s originally from the San Francisco Police Department. I thought maybe I recognized her, but I wasn’t sure, until I checked again today. . . I--I thought you should know.”

  Jess was already reaching for the paper in her hand. Fear prickled his scalp, but he gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the news. “It’s Cassie, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Reluctantly, Angela relinquished the single sheet. “You didn’t know, did you? I’m sorry, Jess. I really am.”

  Cassie gave the cabin a final once-over and found nothing she’d missed. All of Aunt Patty’s clothes were clean, folded, and tucked into two grocery sacks. On top, regretfully, she’d placed the sparkly blue birthday dress and sandals, along with the Leica. Cassie planned to take only what she’d come with--the black cashmere dress, too-tight Ferragamos, and the contents of her handbag. The kits were fed and napping, curled together in a lump of warm fur. Tanya would take good care of them until Jess returned.

  Jess.

  His name brought with it a shattering jolt of pain, a sensation so powerful it forced the air from her lungs. She loved him more than anything. Leaving him was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she was leaving precisely because she loved him. It was the right thing to do.

  Still, would Jess see it that way? Or would he believe she’d abandoned him, just like Danielle?

  Her curt note wouldn’t help him understand. Two rough drafts of that note now lay at the bottom of her handbag. In both early versions, she’d told him he meant everything to her. But she’d destroyed them. She had no choice.

  Sooner or later, Jess would find out exactly who she was, and what she’d done.The minute she turned herself in to the police, it would be all over the news. If she told Jess she loved him, he would feel honor-bound to come and help her. He knew she had no one else.

  That was the last thing she wanted--Jess’s pity. She would rather be alone.

  Before long, she would be.

  Cassie heard the crunch of tires on gravel. She peered out the window in time to see a brown station wagon pull up in front of the cabin. Ruby Jamison, with Tanya in the passen
ger seat.

  Slowly, Cassie reached for the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. She twisted and tugged until it slipped off into her palm. Cassie set her folded note in the center of the neatly made sofa bed she’d shared with Jess two nights running. Then she laid the ring on top of the note, where Jess would be sure to see it.

  She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and hefted her handbag.

  Courage, Cassie. You can handle this. You have no choice. Where’s that upbeat, optimistic attitude?

  This time, her little pep talk had exactly zero effect. Nothing could cheer her up, not today. At least it saved her the trouble of feigning agitation while she told Tanya’s mother about her make-believe, unspecified “family emergency”.

  “All I need is a lift to Redding,” she told the older woman. “I can catch a bus from there.”

  “Of course.” Ruby’s blue eyes were bright with warmth and concern. “Anything I can do to help, just ask.”

  “Thank you so much. “Cassie turned to the Tanya, who’d already climbed out of the car. “Would you mind hanging out at the cabin today, so you can take care of Scamp and Rascal until Jess takes over?”

  “Sure thing. I’d love it.”

  “All the supplies are on the kitchen counter, and there are snacks in the fridge,” Cassie said, as she opened the passenger door and slipped into the station wagon.

  As the car pulled away from Jess’s cabin, the only true home she’d ever known, Cassie’s guilt feelings almost overwhelmed her sense of loss. Now she’d not only abandoned Jess, but also lied to her new friends. Did the ends justify the means? Last night, she’d known she was doing the right thing.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  They passed through Bitter Creek and were miles down the highway when Ruby’s voice broke into her troubled thoughts. “You’re coming back soon, aren’t you, Cassie? I mean, Jess obviously thinks you’re the reason the sun rises and sets. He’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss him, too,” Cassie said, over the bowling-ball sized lump in her throat.

  Ruby shot her a searching look. “You did tell Jess you’re leaving, right? You called him at work?”

  “I--I left him a note.” The truth just popped out. “It’s sort of complicated. . . .”

  “Oh, Cassie.” Ruby sighed. “You’re not running out on him, are you?”

  “I’m doing what’s best for both of us,” Cassie said, her voice quavering only a little. “There are some things I’ve got to take care of.”

  “I see.” A long, slightly chilly silence. “Well, you’re an adult. You can do what you want. But I hate to see Jess get hurt again. He’s the last guy in the world who deserves it.”

  “I know,” Cassie whispered.

  They drove the rest of the way without speaking, Ruby thoughtful, Cassie drowning in misery. Finally, when they arrived in downtown Redding, Ruby broke the impasse. “Where to?”

  “Anywhere. Just drop me anywhere.”

  “Do you need any money?”

  “I--no. I’ll be fine.”

  The blond woman frowned and shook her head. “Be straight with me, Cassie. What’ll you do now?”

  “I’d like to get back to San Francisco, but. . . .” What did she plan to do? Hitchhike? She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t get beyond the next few minutes.

  Ruby let out a weary sigh. “I’ll drop you off at the Greyhound station.”

  “I don’t--”

  “I’ll lend you the money.” Ruby seemed to note Cassie’s surprise, and smiled wryly. “I’m on Jess’s side, of course, but I know him. He’d want me to help you out.” She eased the station wagon up to the curb. “This is it, I guess.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” Cassie said, as Ruby pushed a folded wad of bills into her hand. “Really, I will.”

  Ruby nodded. “Take care of yourself, Cassie,” she said. “Come back to us, if it’s in the cards.”

  Tears brimmed in Cassie’s eyes. “Thank you. I know I haven’t earned your kindness, and I’m sorry.” Cassie jumped out of the car before Ruby could reply, or she could change her mind. What was done, was done.

  She blinked, dashed a single tear from each cheek, then stumbled toward the bus station and a cold, uncertain future.

  A future without Jess.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Late that same afternoon, Cassie stood in front of her old apartment building in San Francisco’s Mission District. After Bitter Creek’s rain-swept, evergreen beauty, the streets seemed dirty and crowded, the jumble of houses, thrift stores, taquerias, and warehouses stacked too close to let her fill her lungs with air. Habit had brought her here, habit and uncertainty. How exactly did one go about turning oneself in? Should she hail a squad car? Find the nearest police station? Call 911?

  All she really wanted, after the long bus ride, was a hot shower and a change of clothes. Then, maybe, she ought to call to a lawyer. Or something.

  Wearily, she mounted the stairs to her cramped third-floor rooms. She half expected to find yellow crime scene tape blocking the hall and an armed sentry at her door, but instead her key turned easily in the lock. She slipped inside.

  It was all just the same, from the pale pink walls to her neon green bean-bag chair and fluffy orange loveseat from the thrift shop. She crossed to the center of the living room, ignoring the frantically blinking red light on her answering machine. Her knickknacks covered every surface and spilled onto the floor. A lifetime ago, she’d flung two dresses and a pair of slacks over the bean-bag chair, then left them there. It was a messy, bright, cramped but comfortable space, with its star-studded ceilings, the futon in the living room, and her makeshift darkroom taking up the apartment’s single bedroom.

  Her darkroom! Her fingers suddenly itched to feel the weight of the developing tank in her hands. She fished in her handbag for the roll of film from her birthday party. Here was something she could control, unlike the rest of her life. Here was something she was good at. And who could say when she’d have another chance?

  She showered, changed into faded jeans and a white v-neck T-shirt, then wandered into the bedroom, flipping on the safe light. Nothing had changed. Bottles of neatly labeled chemicals lined the shelves. Her plastic trays were stacked beside the sink.

  Cassie set to work.

  Two hours later, she stepped out into the living room, an eight-by-five photo clutched in her hand. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the image.

  Jess, captured forever on film. Jess, the man who’d taught her to love.

  In the photo, she’d caught him by surprise. He glowered at her, but teasingly, his firm, sculpted mouth turned up slightly at the corners. She’d caught him as he used his fingers to rake his tousled hair back from his forehead. Sun and shadow highlighted the planes of his rugged face, the face she’d touched just the night before.

  “Oh, Jess,” she said aloud. “I miss you already.”

  A drop of water splashed the photograph. Cassie raised her fingers to her cheek, and found more wetness there. She hadn’t even known she was crying.

  The knock at the door also caught her by surprise. Jess’s photo fluttered to the carpet. The knock came again, thunderously loud in the silent apartment, and Cassie’s heart echoed the pounding.

  This is it. They’ve come for me.

  For an instant, she considered hiding places. Under the futon? Or the bathroom window--no, never mind. She’d never fit. Just her luck to end up stuck half in, half out, her escape torpedoed by a few extra helpings of Haagen-Dazs.

  But she hadn’t come back to San Francisco to run away again. She meant to face the future head on, to tell the truth and fight for her freedom. She’d killed a would-be rapist, not an innocent man.

  Cassie forced herself to take several slow, deep breaths. Her pulse still raced, but her hands were steady as she unbolted the door and flung it open.

  Jess had just raised his fist to knock a third time when the door opened. Cassie stood before him, young and vulnerable in jean
s, bare feet, and a wild mane of hair down around her shoulders. She stared at him, her eyes wide, her cheeks shiny and damp with crying.

  He’d planned to greet her coldly. He wanted to punish her for running away, and for the wrenching agony he’d felt as he read her abrupt note. He’d spent an agonizing morning on the phone, followed by a long, tiring drive and a heartbreaking meeting at the District Attorney’s office.

  How could he let Cassie off lightly after all she’d put him through? But now, seeing her, he wished he could take her in his arms and hold her tight while he told her what he’d learned.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She spoke through thin, pale lips. She rocked back on her heels until he feared she might faint on him. “I told you--in the note, I asked you not to find me. Go home, Jess. Please.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “All right. If that’s what you really want. But first, you have to do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me you don’t love me.”

  A haunted shadow of longing, fear, and hope flickered across her features. Pain darkened her eyes before she cast her gaze down, hiding her expression under thick gold lashes. “I--Jess, don’t--”

  He stepped forward, caught her chin in his hand, and forced her eyes up to meet his. “Come on, Cassie,” he said, through clenched teeth. “In your note, you said our relationship was a mistake. A mistake--that sends one hell of a clear message, if you ask me. So why not make it perfectly plain?”

  She broke away from him, swallowing a sob. Jess winced. Each angry word he threw at her seemed to brand itself on his heart. He couldn’t bear to hurt her, but he also felt he had no choice. He needed to hear the truth, even if he had to wrench it from her.

  “What’s the problem, darlin’?” He gave the endearment a bitter twist. “Go on, tell me. Tell me you were just using me. Tell me I’m a--a ‘naive fool’. Those were the words Danielle chose. Want to second her opinion?”

  A cry tore itself from Cassie’s throat, an animal sound of pure horror. “Oh, God, no. Oh, Jess, how can you even imagine that I--”