by Erin Marsh
Lacey’s grip on Clay’s fingers tightened, and even amid all the old pain, his need for her hummed through him.
“It was that bad?”
Her quiet question about his past caused his throat to seize up. Hell, why was he telling Lacey all this? But he couldn’t stop. Sitting quietly in the dark was making his past bubble up and spew over. Maybe because she was hurting too.
“Yeah,” he answered and let the word hang there.
“My family was tight-knit until—”
“Mine.”
Lacey did not respond to his simple response, but she didn’t deny it either. Clay knew she couldn’t. That was why he’d spoken up—so she didn’t have to. They both knew the truth, and ignoring it for years had only caused it to fester.
“We went hiking a lot, which wasn’t easy with the hours the restaurant takes to run. My parents made it work though. The customers at the Prairie Dog were also like a big extended family. I had so many ‘grandparents’ growing up. I couldn’t get away with anything because someone would inevitably tell Mom. My brother sometimes resented it, but I didn’t. I loved it. I loved feeling part of something. And then my dad died…and my brother, and it just got hard, caring so much, loving so much. It hurts too much to lose someone.”
Clay heard the raw pain in her voice. This time, he didn’t ignore the need simmering between them. He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Part of me prays I’ll hear from my brother, and the other half dreads it. Because every time I talk to him, I lose him a little bit more.”
“You used to be close?”
“Extremely. My first strong memory is of him holding me. I’d fallen after trying to climb a new sculpture my mom bought. I had the wind knocked out of me, and I thought I was dying. Greg held my hand until I could breathe again, and then we went into the kitchen and ate an entire carton of ice cream. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but hell, it tasted good.”
“My brother and I used to steal freshly baked cookies. Jesse would distract Dad, and I’d poach them. It drove Dad nuts, especially when we did it at the café.”
“Greg and I would make giant forts out of sheets and blankets. Once or twice, we managed to cover a whole floor of our big-ass house. It would take us days or even weeks to build one.”
“Your parents didn’t make you tear it down?”
“Naw. They were probably out of town. I don’t really remember where they were. They weren’t around much. Greg said he saw them more when he was little.”
“What was your grandfather like?” Lacey asked as she burrowed closer to him. Clay responded by giving her a squeeze. Although desire still whispered through him, it had quieted into something slow and steady. Lacey sighed, and he watched as her eyes drifted shut.
“He was completely different from my parents,” Clay said. “I have no idea how he ended up raising someone like my mom. I don’t think they knew either. Honestly, my mom was probably just as much a rebel as I was, except once she got married, she did it by shopping on Rodeo Drive and in Vienna. My grandfather never approved of my parents’ lifestyle, even before my dad’s arrest. He thought I was a spoiled punk, but he gave me a chance to change. Hell, he believed I could change, and that made all the difference.”
“What did you think of living on the ranch?”
Clay closed his own eyes as he shifted both their bodies so he could lean against the headboard. It felt so right holding her like this. Giving in to the quiet warmth, he allowed the memories to wash over him. “I hated it at first. The house Mom and Dad owned in Sagebrush Flats near the ski resort was my least favorite. All I saw was a bunch of red rocks and dust. My grandfather seemed like a bitter old caricature from a bad Western. And it was boring in Sagebrush. No clubs. No fancy restaurants. No sporting events. No wild parties.”
“Since you’re still here, I take it your opinion changed.”
“Hell yes. I fell in love with the place. I can’t tell you how or even exactly when. I know it happened the first summer here. I finally realized it when I was out in the back pasture with my grandfather rounding up the cattle. I looked up and really saw the land for the first time. This…this swell came over me. Pride, I guess. The ranch had been part of my family for generations, and here I was doing the same damn thing they’d done, and I didn’t suck at it. I knew I was doing a good job ’cause my grandfather had grunted at me in approval instead of riding my ass like he normally did. And then there was the beautiful vista. It wasn’t dry like I’d thought. There were vegetation and the sounds of life. I could hear the babble from the creek and the call of a jay.”
When Lacey spoke, Clay could hear a sleepy smile in her voice. “You sound like a Sagebrushian.”
A little trickle of frustration flowed through him. “I am a Sagebrushian.”
Lacey moved her head to his chest. “Yep,” she said, “sounds like the heart of a Sagebrushian.”
All his muscles uncoiled. Carefully, he reached up and gently stroked her hair. Her breathing grew steadier and shallower. When he spoke, he kept his voice low. “So we have a different heartbeat from the rest of the world?”
“Uh-huh.” Lacey gave a little wiggle. Her words had grown faint at the edges, and he could tell she was seconds from falling asleep. “I like holding you. The world doesn’t spin so much.”
A second later, Clay heard a soft snore. A grin touched his lips as he kept lightly running his fingers through her smooth locks. He opened both eyes as he stared down at her. Unfortunately, the light through the crack in the curtains had grown dimmer. He could no longer make out her individual features, but he could still see the outline of her form curled against his. And just like the day he’d first really looked at the red cliffs surrounding him, he felt a rush roar through him, settling in his chest.
Chapter 7
“Are you sure you’re up to this? I can just pick up Zach. We don’t need to walk through the zoo. I can get pictures of the animals another time.”
Lacey had no trouble detecting the worry in Clay’s voice as she unbuckled her seat belt. In all honesty, she didn’t know the answer to his question. She felt as wrung out as a washrag at her mother’s café. The past two days had been grueling. Unfortunately, she’d have to return to the city next week for therapy. The whole thing made her want to hike to the most remote part of Rocky Ridge and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“I need this.” If she couldn’t lose herself in the wilderness, watching animals would soothe her.
“Okay,” Clay said simply as he grabbed his camera and climbed from the truck. He walked around to the other side and opened the door.
She gave him a pointed look. “I’m not so weak I can’t get out of a vehicle without assistance.”
“Humor me, Lacey. If you start to feel woozy, I want to be by your side.”
And there it was. That unstoppable gush of emotion. It had been building all day like warm bathwater filling a tub, and she wanted to take a soak in it. A nice, long one.
She’d slept in Clay’s arms the entire night. She’d woken up with her body wedged against his, her head still resting on his chest. And for the first time since her injury, she didn’t feel so adrift. But it wasn’t just his physical presence that anchored her.
Something had changed last night. They’d formed a bond. She could sense it even now. This connection. It was both comforting and frightening. She could detect his worry and concern for her…and his affection. When he’d awoken seconds after her, his eyes had been a bottomless blue-green, making her think of a secluded lagoon. And every time his gaze fell on her, the rich hue returned.
She wondered what he saw in her expression, because she felt pulled toward him. She hadn’t expected his story to resonate with her. But it had. He’d suffered loss too…different yet somehow the same. And her heart ached for him, that lonely boy growing up in beautiful emptiness. In the pas
t, she would’ve used those same two words to describe him…an impossibly handsome man with seemingly nothing substantial inside. She’d been wrong. She’d known it for weeks. But even then, she hadn’t realized their shared similarities. They both loved Sagebrush and its harsh, unforgiving beauty. They’d found peace in the red cliffs. And somewhere in the vastness of the desert, when they’d felt utterly lost, each of them had discovered a sense of belonging.
Today, Clay hadn’t left her side once. Oh, he hadn’t gone back to the examination room when the nurse called her name, but he’d stuck around in the waiting area. She’d told him he could head outside and go to a coffee shop or some other place more pleasant. After all, she could always text him. But he’d stayed, this man who’d taken in his nephew when no other family member would.
Now they walked together through the empty zoo. It was after five o’clock in the afternoon, and the place had closed for the day. Clay started down the shortest path to the main building, but Lacey grabbed his arm. “Let’s go the long way around so you can take more pictures.” He studied her, so she added, “The fresh air will do me good, and I’d like to see more of the animals.”
“Which ones?”
Lacey didn’t need any time to consider her answer. “The bears—little Sorcha and Frida.”
“Sorcha’s the polar bear, right?”
“Yep,” Lacey said. “She’s about a year old now. Her exhibit is right next to the old grizzly bear’s. They get along so well that Bowie actually built a connection between the two enclosures. It’s a little unorthodox, but it works. He’s hoping he can get a male polar bear for Sorcha soon and an orphaned grizzly cub next year. I’ve let some of my contacts at the national parks and fish and wildlife commission know.”
Clay smiled. “When you’re on medical leave, you’re supposed to, you know, rest.”
“Huh. What is that word again, rest?”
“Oh, that thing you do when you get off your feet and lie down.”
“Lying in the dark gets boring very quickly.”
“I didn’t find last night dull at all.”
The husky timbre in Clay’s voice resonated through Lacey. She tried but couldn’t quite manage to suppress a little shiver. He noticed immediately and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. Her nerve endings instantly flickered to life, sending zings of energy skipping through her.
“Neither did I,” she whispered, surprised at how husky her voice sounded. She didn’t do throaty. She did clear and precise.
A decidedly wolfish smile spread across Clay’s mouth, and a dimple appeared in his cheek. Yup. The man definitely looked like an underwear model.
“Maybe you just need me in your bed.”
Hot electricity crackled through her. She watched as Clay’s eyes lit with a responding flare. He’d meant the words innocently, but once spoken, neither of them had taken them that way. Kinetic energy transformed into magnetic as they leaned toward each other. Their lips met, hungry, needy, and maybe just a little desperate. She clung to him, wanting him closer, yearning for what she’d been denying herself. His tongue plunged into her mouth as he crushed her against his chest. His embrace wasn’t rough, but it was powerful. She swore even the air hummed around them.
The kiss deepened further. His hand slid up her back to cradle her head, the edge of his palm resting against the sensitive skin of her neck. Another chill skittered down her spine. More desire detonated like a string of carefully laid explosives. Her defenses softened, she arched into him, trying to bring him nearer, their height difference frustrating her.
Clay groaned, and the sound reverberated through her like the echo of rushing rapids bouncing off the walls of a narrow slot canyon. “Damn, Lacey, you’re going to kill me.”
Setting his camera bag down, Clay hoisted her into the air. She immediately wrapped her legs around his torso as he gripped her butt. When she placed her hands around the back of his neck, she knocked off his cowboy hat. Neither of them cared as it fell to the ground. With better access, she plundered his mouth, pouring all her pent-up longing into the kiss. He made a low sound, and she absolutely loved it. His lips moved just as fiercely. It should have been messy and sloppy. It wasn’t. It was every hot fantasy played out in real time.
“We should stop,” Clay said, his voice hoarse.
“I know,” Lacey whispered back.
But their mouths met again, and they kept on kissing…until the chittering. The very loud, very disruptive staccato chittering. They both froze, their lips still together, their gazes locked. Clay glanced away first. When his eyes widened into deep blue-green pools, Lacey turned her head too. A honey badger stood in the middle of the path. He was on the smaller side, so she guessed he was the baby, Scamp. The little mustelid watched them intently, his head cocked to one side. He seemed more curious than his rascally parents. He wasn’t quite a year old, which meant that his mother, Honey, was probably close by, most likely hiding in the bushes. She had a reputation for only being seen when she wanted to play a game of chase.
“Is that a honey badger?” Clay asked softly as he lowered her to the ground.
She moved to his side to study the animal. “Yup. I think he’s the kit.”
“Will he attack?” Clay looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I hear they go after—”
“A male’s private area,” Lacey finished. “That just may be lions and other large predators.”
Clay gave her a sideways glance. “If you haven’t noticed, Miss Ecologist, humans are major predators.”
She laughed and patted his shoulder. “Point taken, but the zoo’s honey badgers don’t bite humans. Generally.”
“I don’t know if I like that qualification.”
“Don’t worry. Fluffy, the male, was properly provoked the only time he used his teeth on a person. The man he chomped down on was an escaped convict trying to shoot Bowie.”
“I remember reading about that in the paper.”
The words struck Lacey. More than anything else Clay had stated, it showed how isolated he was. The assault at the zoo had spread around town faster than butter on a pancake hot from the griddle. The local paper only came out weekly. Days would have passed before Clay had learned what everyone was gossiping about. With a story that big in Sagebrush, he should’ve found out within a couple of hours.
She stepped closer, ready to draw him to her once again. That was when she heard it. Running footsteps. She jerked back just as Zach’s voice filled the air.
“There you are, you little weasel.” Although his word choice was harsh, affection lined his normally surly voice. The teenager rounded the corner, his attention fixed on the juvenile honey badger.
Scamp gave a muffled cry, his mouth full of Clay’s cowboy hat. As quickly as a striking golden eagle, he darted under Clay’s feet, still carrying the Stetson. Zach drew up short, obviously catching sight of them for the first time. His blue eyes, so much like his uncle’s, darkened in surprise before a glint of understanding grew in them. A knowing smirk spread over his face. Self-consciously, Lacey looked down. Her jacket was bunched up at an odd angle from being pressed against Clay. Quickly, she yanked to straighten it.
Clay cleared his throat. “We just got back from the city. Lacey wanted to see Sorcha.”
“Suuure,” Zach said. “That’s why your hair is sticking up and a honey badger currently has your hat.”
Clay gave his nephew a level look. Lacey was surprised that he managed to resist smoothing down his locks. “What are you doing out here?”
“My job. I’m the best at catching Scamp.” On the surface, Zach sounded defiant, but Lacey could detect an underlying thread of pride. Luckily, so did his uncle.
“It doesn’t look like it’s easy. I’d take lassoing a bull over wrangling one of those fur tubes with teeth.”
Zach grinned. “The fur tubes grow on you
, and Scamp acts tougher than he is. He’s more scrappy than mean.”
“If you say so,” Clay said. “I’d appreciate if you could get my hat back. It’s my favorite, and I’d rather not see it turned into a honey badger chew toy.”
Zach responded with a mock salute. He started to dash away, but right before he disappeared, he pivoted and gave them a cheese-eating grin. “Have fun, kids. You know, ‘visiting Sorcha.’” Then he was gone.
Clay glanced over at Lacey, his expression tight. “I don’t think Zach will tell anyone, but I never know with him.”
Lacey nodded, and she hated herself for it. Although getting caught with mussed clothes wasn’t ideal, she shouldn’t care if the whole town knew about her and Clay. She was used to her business being spread like manure during spring planting, and Clay was a good man. People had been rooting for her to find someone special for years. Unfortunately, her heart might have settled on the very person they’d been cussing out for just as long.
Clay grabbed his camera again, and they walked in silence, keeping a good foot between them. It was as if they both knew if they came any closer, they’d end up in each other’s arms. She’d never felt this pull toward another human being. It wasn’t just sexual either. She’d confided things to him that she’d never told anyone, not even her mother or grandfather. She just kept coming back to the same word to describe what she felt around him: connected. It was like a fiber optic cable ran between them, sending messages at the speed of light.
At the sound of their feet crunching on gravel, Sorcha lifted her furry white head from the ball she’d been nosing. Lacey had only managed to visit the animal park a couple of times when Sorcha was a young cub, but she’d followed the youngster’s growth on the zoo’s web page. The little tyke had fascinated the whole town when she’d arrived from Alaska—a small, compact bundle with shining black eyes and a delightful personality. Now, more than twelve months later, Sorcha had the gangly build of a teenager. She reminded Lacey of a juvenile dog. Not quite a puppy but still filled with energy and emphatic joy.