Long Hard Fall

by Marie Johnston

  They strode into the store next to each other and she was peppering him with questions about how he liked his meatloaf. A couple of girls passed them, giggling and greeting Cash. She glanced at him. His good humor didn’t reach his eyes. He was being polite, that was all. After they were clear, his expression was pinched.

  “It’s okay, you know,” she said.

  “What’s okay?”

  “That a lot of girls know you.”

  He gave her tight smile. “It’s one thing when it’s in the past and forgotten. It’s different when you’re around someone and you care what they think about the past striding by all but announcing how we know each other.”

  Would now be a bad time to fist pump in the air? She wasn’t like the others to him and he’d come close to admitting it. “Say I was your girlfriend; I wouldn’t be jealous of your history. I’d be glad you settled down when you knew it was right and not when your family or society dictated it was. And I’d be even more pleased with it if you treated them right when you were with them.”

  His gaze darkened. “They were nothing but hookups. That’s not treating anyone right.”

  She threaded her hand through his. Her girlfriend statement had opened a well of longing she didn’t want to face alone. Being Ellis’s girlfriend had taxed her mentally. A girl got tired of never being good enough, of always being judged. Being with Cash was the opposite.

  She squeezed his hand as she steered him to the meat department. “If you had made a bunch of promises you had no intention of keeping, then I’d agree. Otherwise, it was you and another adult and a mutual agreement on a temporary transaction.”

  He chuckled. “That your fancy way of saying ‘hookup’?”

  “Yes. If your previous partners had grand ideas of a ring and wedding dress, but you didn’t lead them on, that’s not your fault.” She towed him to the hamburger display.

  He shook his head, his mouth turned down. “Oh, honey. You’re not asking a rancher to buy hamburger at the grocery store are you?”

  “Umm…I was going to buy it.”

  “Nope.” He led her away. An older man approached and stopped to chat with him.

  Cash just introduced her by name, but didn’t release her hand. He was a private man, not showy, but not hiding from others either. Her respect for him grew. The two men talked shop for a while, then they finished their trip.

  With an armload of groceries, Cash loaded her and the bags up and drove back to his farm.

  This was her vacation and she only had a week left. But she could get used to this every day of her life.

  ***

  Abbi threw the pan in the oven and set it for an hour. She peered out the kitchen window toward the barn where she caught glimpses of Cash repairing the corrals that held his cows all winter. He was wearing his tan jacket and boots. His rugged jeans fit well enough to be catalogue ready, but as always, he wore a baseball cap. Was the hat his farmer side expressing itself? When Perry had talked about his ranching buddy, Reno, she’d expected a swaggering cowboy, much like Cash, only with a cowboy hat. In so many ways, he defied her expectations.

  She grinned to herself and butterflies took flight in her stomach. Pushing away from the window, she looked around. What was she going to do for an hour that didn’t include following Cash around like a lovesick puppy?

  The inside of the house could use some TLC. It’s not that it wasn’t cared for, it was just obvious he was a one-man show and everything outside the house was his priority. A light layer of dust lined the shelves, and the rugs could use a beating after the summer season, but she wasn’t going to clean for him. One, it was her vacation and Ellis was probably enjoying her absence because he didn’t have to chase her with a tidy list of atrocities she’d committed. And two, it was rude to be a guest in someone’s home and clean like they weren’t grown-ass adults who could do it themselves.

  But boredom was setting in with fifty-five minutes to go.

  She located her bag and withdrew her sketch pad. When she’d first arrived, she’d coveted the huge porch as a divine place to sit and sketch. Shrugging into a sweater, she figured out the time she had to draw before she had to finish supper and stepped outside.

  An old porch swing creaked under her weight but felt sturdy enough. She curled one leg under herself and used her other foot on the ground to gently rock the swing.

  The breeze sharpened with a chill now that the day was coming to an end, but Abbi wasn’t rushing inside. She studied her surroundings. A long barn. Another big shed. Pastures dotted with cattle in the distance.

  What should she draw?

  A mew caught her attention. A gray and white tabby cat slinked toward her. The cat swiped itself along her leg. She giggled. A farm kitty, and a tame one at that. It’d been a huge challenge to catch cats at her grandparents’ place, but Cash must give this little girl some lovin’.

  The cat found a fading sun patch and curled into a ball like she owned the place.

  It seemed Cash had a major soft spot for creatures. Abbi started drawing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cash took his hands out of his work gloves and slapped the dirt off them against his leg.

  His stomach growled. He was almost giddy at the thought of having a warm meal ready at the end of a long day.

  But was he really looking forward to the food or the company?

  This was the closest to a date he’d gotten since high school. She understood he meant to have sex with her yet she’d even cooked him dinner. She could’ve just as easily said she’d meet him later, or they could have gone out, but she seemed to like hanging out at his home.

  He liked having her here. He’d never thought about being lonely, not with all his family around and stopping in anytime they wanted. But once Abbi left, he might just feel a little isolated and alone.

  Nearing the house, he glanced up when he heard Alfalfa meow. His number one mouser arched her back on the porch, then sauntered off.

  Then Abbi’s voice drifted to him and he spotted her on the porch swing.

  “Really, cat? I’m almost done and you get up and walk away? Figures.” She scowled at a notepad in her hands.

  “She probably figures I rustled up some critters down by the barn and wants to go hunting.” He loped up his porch steps.

  Abbi half-heartedly glared at the cat. “Laugh’s on her. She looks bald in my picture.”

  She flashed her drawing toward him and his brows popped up. “An artist, huh.”

  She flipped the cover over on the picture and tossed it beside her. “Not really.”

  He snatched it away before she could grab it and opened it back up. Sitting next her, he studied her drawing. They swung gently together.

  Without knowing much about art, he’d still say she was talented. Maybe Alfalfa’s individual pieces of fur weren’t sketched in, but the kitty looked nowhere near bald. Abbi had captured the pure feline bliss of roasting in a sunbeam.

  Instead of reassuring her that she didn’t suck, he decided to show her. He found an empty page and held his hand out for her pencil.

  She narrowed her gaze on him, but handed it over. He took a few minutes and did his best, but his scribbles wouldn’t look out of place in an elementary school art fair.

  “There,” he said and gave it to her. “Out of the two of us, which one’s an artist?”

  Her mouth quirked and her eyes danced with appreciation. “To be fair, the cat wasn’t modeling for you.”

  “Oh, Alfalfa models for me. Usually at five in the morning when she thinks I’m late with breakfast and decides to caterwaul outside the window.”

  She laughed and pushed out of the swing. “You make pussies sing.”

  “You bet I do.” He followed her into the house. Warmth and savory smells swamped him. “Do I have time to clean up?”

  “Yep. It’s done cooking, but I’ll set the table and start yowling if you take too long.”

  He took off his boots and coat. “If you have the pipes that
cat does, I’d be impressed.”

  “No. I can draw, I can’t sing.”

  “Makes two of us.”

  He ran through the shower, keeping the heat down until it was nearly too cold to stand. He’d never needed much to be in the mood, but playful banter with Abbi was the biggest turn-on, one he’d never known he had. Hell, anything Abbi did seemed to send blood to his groin. Smile, laugh, cook, fall in the mud, didn’t matter. He was primed for her.

  For the first time, he wondered what her dating history was. Were they two peas in a pod, or was she the type to settle into a long, serious relationship? Another topic that didn’t matter to him. As long as all the men were history. He wasn’t his dad, but he certainly wasn’t his mom and wouldn’t tolerate a partner who stepped out and lied.

  Was he thinking long-term with Daniels’s sister? Maybe. Would Daniels have approved? Maybe not, but he’d only seen the young and dumb Reno.

  He threw on clean clothes and found Abbi standing by the dining room table. She perused the pictures on the china cabinet he’d inherited from Gram. And by inherited, he meant that no one else wanted to pack up and lug the thing anywhere so it’d stayed with him.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder; her gaze heated. He wore his church outfit—black jeans and a striped button-up shirt—even nicer than what he went to the bar in.

  “You guys all look alike. How many cousins total?”

  He pulled out a chair for her to sit in. “Ten. Dillon and Brock are only children. There’s me and Sissy. Aaron has two younger brothers. One’s still in high school and one’s in middle school. And Travis has one brother and a sister. He’s Sissy’s age, and she’s a couple years younger than Travis and travels the world for work.”

  She sat down and started dishing up their meal. He held back a grin at getting waited on. It seemed like if he cooked, he served her and if she cooked, she served him.

  “Must’ve been fun growing up, having all those cousins around,” she said.

  “Still is. We get together all the time, but not everyone can make it anymore.”

  They dug into their food and fell into easy chatter. He talked about his family and she described summers at her grandparents’.

  She placed her silverware on her plate and pushed her hair out of her face as she eyed the dish with the meatloaf, potatoes, and carrots. “We can throw the whole thing in the fridge. I already did the dishes, so it’s just the plates for cleanup.”

  He sat back. His stomach was full and content, his taste buds were alive with the best dinner he’d had in a long time, and his only concern was relieving the steady pressure that had built since the previous night when he’d held her in his arms.

  “The dishes can wait.”

  She nodded, glanced at him and paused. His expression must clearly state what was on his mind. Could she read in his eyes that he wanted to strip off that adorable college sweater of hers and lick every creamy inch of skin?

  She pushed away from the table and sauntered toward him. Leaning down to his ear, she whispered, “And just what should we do all night?”

  He snaked his arms around her waist and dragged her onto his lap. “I’m going to help you remember what we did together the first night we met.”

  Her pupils dilated. She wiggled on his lap, a motion that felt too good. She draped her arms around his neck; he finally had her where he wanted her. He pressed his lips to hers.

  She tasted of dinner and the Abbi he’d become addicted to. Her unique flavor of life and woman, mixed with the seasoning of her excellent meatloaf. His rancher’s heart was securely roped.

  Before his erection grew too uncomfortable, he hugged her to him and stood. She released his mouth to gasp at the sudden movement, but he only smirked. She held on while he carried her to his bedroom. Briefly, he’d thought of veering off into the guest room that she’d slept in, but having her in his bed was more temptation than he could refuse.

  Inside, he set her down and lifted her sweater over her head.

  “Do you remember when I first stripped you down?” He tossed the top to the floor. Her breasts filled out her pink lacy bra. He considered leaving it on. But no, it’d have to be replaced with his hands and mouth.

  Her breath hitched and her hands landed on the clasp to her pants. “No. Yes. I remember being really excited.”

  The corner of his mouth hitched up. “Excited is a good start. What do you feel now?”

  “Needy,” she panted.

  Oh yes. Him, too. He placed his hands over hers and undid her pants. Then he squatted to slowly drag them down, flaring his hands over her satiny skin. Her body rippled under his touch and he glanced up at her. Her luminous gaze stayed on him, but she stood still.

  She stepped out of her pants. When she was back on both feet, he pressed a kiss to her belly. A soft puff of air escaped her.

  “You did the same thing before.” He licked a path to one hip and nipped it, causing her to flinch and moan. He straightened and she tipped her head back to meet his gaze.

  She lifted her hands to undo his buttons, but he grasped them in his. “Let me,” he murmured. “I remember when I stripped you naked. You were spread out on the bed like a feast for the eyes. I want to feast again, Abbi.”

  Her pink tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “Yes.”

  Yes. He could relive that night together for a long time and it’d never decrease his satisfaction. That night had blown his mind. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra and slid it down her arms. Her breasts were freed. The bra landed on the sweater.

  It was his turn to lick his lips. He wanted a taste, but he’d wait until she was laid out before him.

  Next off was her panties.

  Finally. She was naked. In his house. In his bedroom. She crawled onto the bed and flipped to her back. Just what he’d asked for. She’d presented herself for him.

  He loosened the top button of his shirt. “I remember what you tasted like. It’s kept me up at night since then. I want it again.”

  Prowling up the bed until he loomed over her, he hesitated for a moment. What if this was making her uncomfortable? What if she started to feel like he’d taken advantage of her?

  She cupped his face. “I woke up with a raw throat from crying out. I want that again.”

  His worries washed away. It was one thing for him to yearn for another night with her, but to hear the same level of need in her voice was deeply gratifying. “You were a noisy one. I liked it.” He dropped a brief kiss to her lips. “You won’t forget my name after tonight.”

  He settled his weight between her legs and trailed a path of kisses down her neck. He drew one nipple into his mouth, then quickly moved on to the other. Her satiny center called to him and he didn’t want to linger too long before he made her yell his name.

  She squirmed under him, the heat from her core driving his own desire crazy. His cock pressed against his pants. He relished the discomfort, it kept him from rushing their time together. Soon he’d have her. But first…

  Hitching her knees up and to the side, he noticed her fisting the covers of his bed. When he gauged her expression, he found desire, near desperation. He dipped his head down, found her clit. She rocked up.

  She was as hot as he remembered, already wet for him. He’d probably stain his pants making himself wait before he finally sated himself with her body. But just like before, once wasn’t going to be enough.

  She sucked in a breath and moaned, almost drawing too far away from him. He tugged her closer to lick a path from her swollen clit to her opening. When he speared her with his tongue, she bucked almost off the bed. He wanted to grin, but instead, circled the swollen nub, her body shaking with the impending release.

  He rose to his knees, increasing the pressure.

  “Cash!” Her knees rose higher as she tensed every muscle in her body.

  He raised his gaze. She watched him. Her eyes bright, her mouth open with shallow breaths. The sight of him between her legs must be heigh
tening her pleasure. Her body spread before him certainly did it for him.

  Suddenly her body spasmed. She threw her head back, calling his name. He inserted a finger. She jerked again as her sex clamped around his digit. His name left her lips in another cry. Her body shook and shuddered until she went limp and he eased up. This was how he wanted her—completely his.

  He rose to his knees and, one at a time, undid the buttons of his shirt. “Did that bring back any memories, honey?”

  ***

  Did it ever. She’d remembered snippets of their night together, but he was meticulously stitching them into one cohesive memory. Although his room was way better than the dive of a motel they’d been in.

  She’d just had a record-breaking climax, but the sight of him shrugging out of his shirt primed her for more. A dull throb settled in between her legs, not allowing her to fully descend from the peak.

  He tossed his shirt, and muscles rippled along his torso as his biceps flexed. Her mouth watered. Would he let her have her way with him? Her gut said not for a while. He was seriously recreating their first night together.

  Down went his zipper and she strained to see his shaft, remembering the length had been impressive. His cock sprang free.

  Oh yeah. His erection twitched under her attention.

  She bit her lip and caught his eye. “At what point did I suck on you?”

  Fire flared in his gaze. “Right after I rode you hard.” A slow, sexy grin spread along his face. “I have to admit, in case you don’t recall, the first time went kind of fast. You had me all worked up.”

  “Mmm.” She reclined. He shoved his pants down to keep them out of the way. “Now, how did I do that when I’ve barely touched you?”