Second Hope

by J. B. McDonald

  It was a lie. It had to be lie, because it couldn’t be the truth. Cole would leave, taking his strength with him, and she would be brokenhearted all over again. But they could pretend, just for now. She could pretend that he would protect her, love her and keep her safe. It was a nice myth.

  With a deep breath she stepped away from him. “Bed?”

  He nodded and followed her out, a hand lightly resting on her back. She curled up halfway under him again, but this time there was more care than smiles in the way he touched her, the way he watched over her until she fell asleep.

  The first time she’d woken it had been screaming. The second time it was with the throb of arousal pulsing through her, already moving in a primal rhythm it knew even unconscious.

  Her legs shifted, body aching, and she became aware of fingers against her, stroking slowly at the wet heat where sensation built. Lips slid over her jaw, parting to breathe a laugh across her skin. “Awake?” A finger slid into her, and she nearly convulsed.

  “Yes,” Nat whimpered, spine arching. She reached out blindly, finding the taut muscle of his back, his buttocks, and drawing her nails down it.

  He groaned against her and moved, fingers withdrawing and his heavy form settling between her legs. She opened them, eager for the thrust of his erection. He pushed into her, movements no longer slow and sensual but now fast, a little unsteady. She wrapped her legs around him, linking her ankles at the small of his back so he could thrust deeper.

  Pleasure flooded her, cresting all too soon in a wave that picked her up and dragged her along, battering her senses with a mind-blanking orgasm. She groaned and shuddered, feeling Cole tense and climax as well.

  They were both breathing like they’d run five miles when he rolled off, tossing the condom toward the trash.

  “That was so much better than my last wake up.” Nat stretched luxuriously, enjoying even the way her body twinged at the unusual exercise.

  A laugh rumbled over her, and Cole rolled to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close. “Glad to know I’m better than a nightmare.” He nuzzled against her neck, tongue flicking out in a combination of mouth and stubble that somehow tickled rather than aroused.

  Nat chuckled and pushed away from him, realized she was firmly caught, and struggled harder. “Let me go, asshole,” she laughed, attempting to elbow him in the ribs.

  He only twisted out of the way and pinned her hand. “Asshole? Asshole, am I? Well, assholes don’t let go. In fact, I’m pretty sure they do worse than this.” He rolled, crushing her underneath him and freeing his hands to dance down her sides.

  Squirming didn’t do anything more than make it hard to breathe, and yelling only made him tickle worse. Nat gave up and laughed, trying ineffectively to hide her ticklish spots. Every time she got one covered he found another, until she gave up and shouted uncle.

  He rolled off her, taking her by the shoulder and flipping her over to face him. The kiss was unexpected, but she didn’t argue as his tongue slipped into her mouth, stroking her thoroughly. “Did I win?” he asked as he pulled back.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness. “This time.” The words were grudging, but her gaze twinkled.

  His eyebrows twitched. “What’s my prize?”

  Nat shrugged and said off-handedly, thinking she could certainly deal with another night sharing her bed, “I am.”

  His eyes darkened. For a moment, he looked like he could have her right then and there, take her with him and keep her forever. He looked like he hoped she felt the same. Nat’s heart raced, and she took a quick, short breath.

  “Are you, now?” His hand slid lingeringly down her side. She’d never been so aware of her body, of the way muscle and skin stretched over fine bones. His fingers spanned her ribs on one side, then moved lower to her stomach.

  “For tonight,” Nat clarified. Her heart didn’t stop hammering, though, and Cole’s gaze didn’t change. “Just tonight.” Nerves flared in her stomach. It was silly; they’d already had sex, and he’d be leaving in a matter of weeks. Yet still nerves danced in her gut, twisting at the way he watched her.

  She wanted him for more than a matter of weeks. From the look on his face, she guessed he felt the same.

  Slowly, he lowered his head once more, brushing a sweetly gentle kiss over her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  Before she could respond—before she even knew how to respond—he’d rolled off and stood, stretching in the spill of light from the back window. He took her breath away, golden blond skin sliding over supple muscle, hair the color of sun-touched wheat falling haphazardly in his strong face and whiskey eyes.

  “Breakfast?” he asked, looking down at her. He was completely unconcerned about his nudity, and Nat looked her fill.

  He was truly amazing. “Breakfast,” she agreed, dragging her mind back to the conversation—what there was of it. Cole’s smile carried more than a little amusement. He seemed to know exactly why she was distracted, and he seemed to find it hilarious. Nat refused to look away. He was stunning, he knew it, he was flaunting it, and far be it from her to disappoint by dismissing him.

  “Bacon? Eggs? Toast?”

  She opened her mouth to say only one of those would do—he still didn’t seem to understand that she just didn’t eat breakfast—when her stomach growled. She put a hand over it, chuckling. “Guess I’m hungry.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “We burned off a lot of calories last night.”

  “And this morning,” she reminded him cheerfully, refusing to be outdone.

  He laughed. It made the muscles on his torso tighten beautifully, standing out under bronze skin. She admired that, too.

  “All right. One breakfast, coming up. Soon as I find some new clothes…” He turned and wandered out of her bedroom, vanishing into his own. Nat stood and stretched again, arms splaying every which way before she relaxed and went to her dresser, digging through for underwear.

  By the time she’d dressed, braided her hair, tossed her dirty clothes—and his, too—in the hamper and straightened her bedding, the smell of frying eggs and sizzling bacon had filled the house.

  Aaron and Beth were both sitting at the counter that separated kitchen and main room, each with a plate of breakfast.

  “Do neither of you knock?” Nat asked with more humor than annoyance. The morning had started too well to be annoyed at much of anything, really.

  Aaron looked up, startled and a little offended. “I knocked! Beth let me in.”

  Nat turned to look at her smaller cousin, who just shrugged. “The door was unlocked.”

  Nat’s gaze flicked up to Cole, who looked more amused than anything. “You shouldn’t feed the strays,” she said, deadpan. “They won’t leave if you do.”

  “Ah.” He reached across the counter and picked up Beth’s plate, plucking the fork halfway to her mouth right out of her hand.

  “Hey!” she yelped.

  He laughed and handed it all back, turning to scoop up the frying eggs and slide them onto a plate. With a fork he speared several slices of bacon and a sausage roll, putting them alongside the eggs and gesturing at Nat when he set it on the counter. “Anyone want toast?”

  Nat’s stomach growled again. “Yes, please.” Looking at the spread, she had to admit that her kitchen was better stocked when Cole was in charge of the buying.

  Beth’s eyebrows rose as she eyed Nat’s plate. “Since when do you eat breakfast?” Her tone was thoughtful, her eyes sharp.

  Feeling a gaze on her, she glanced up to see Cole give her a small smile before looking away. She found herself smiling back, heat spreading through her body like a warm wash.

  “Oh my God,” Beth nearly gasped, standing. “You—! And he—!”

  “You sound like a sitcom,” Aaron muttered into his food.

  Beth turned around and hit him, a solid rabbit punch to his shoulder. He glared at her and rubbed the mark, but went back to his breakfa
st without another word.

  “You finally slept together!”

  “Beth, did you need something?” Nat tried to keep her annoyance under wraps, and failed. Beyond Beth, Aaron continued to eat.

  “Aaron can tell you.” With a grin, Beth pushed her plate away and hopped up. “I can see I have some gossip to spread.”

  “Don’t—” Nat began, but Beth was already gone, the screen door bouncing closed behind her.

  Nat stared after her and wondered how much gossip she could possible spread anyway. It wasn’t like the entire ranch didn’t already know she and Cole were involved.

  Aaron continued to calmly eat his eggs. He lifted a strip of bacon and crunched into it with a look of bliss, eyes closing under the rim of his cowboy hat.

  Nat tipped her head to see his face, noting the very pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. His hands held a faint tremble. “You look like shit.”

  He glanced at her. “You, too. Well, except you have that well-f—um, screwed glow.” He smirked and looked back down at his plate. “You guys just aren’t subtle.”

  “Not trying to be subtle,” Cole shot back, and leaned over the counter to press a hard, fast kiss to Nat’s mouth.

  She looked at Cole when he pulled back. “What is this, a territorial contest?”

  He had the decency to look abashed.

  “Oh, yeah. Any minute now,” Aaron began dryly, “we’re going to whip out our dicks and start spraying everywhere.”

  The image banished the last of her annoyance. She laughed, reaching out to grab his hat and pull it down into his face. “What are you really doing here?”

  He ate another bite of bacon and ignored his hat. “Water heater in the barn’s broken. Maintenance guys can’t fix it without new parts. I just came in to get cash from the safe so they could go buy what they need, but Cole offered food, and it’d be rude to turn him down.” He grinned, sliding his hat back into place on his head. “Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

  “And what did Beth want?” It couldn’t have been important, if gossip took precedence. Besides, her world was narrowing to the man in her kitchen, the one who kept giving her heated looks from under thick lashes. He moved with grace he’d been lacking in the sling, and every time he shifted, muscles pressed in new places under his shirt.

  “We’re running low on A&M, oat pellets and bran.”

  “And she couldn’t wait until I came out to tell me that?” Nat pulled her gaze away from Cole and his small, knowing smile, to look at Aaron instead.

  He was studying his food as if it were fascinating. “Guess not. Most like, she just smelled food and came in for a meal.”

  “Oh.” She eyed Aaron, staring even though she knew it was rude. He wouldn’t call her on it.

  As predicted, he just glared harder at his bacon.

  “Are you getting sick?” she asked bluntly. “You sure look like it.”

  Cole fixed himself a plate of food and came around the counter, sliding up onto the stool next to Nat and leaving the one between her and Aaron vacant. “She’s right. You okay?”

  Aaron pulled the brim of his hat lower. “Just tired. Been a long week.”

  Nat understood that feeling. Even if he hadn’t been there to pull the trigger, he’d taken care of the body afterward. She felt a stab of guilt for leaving him with that before firmly pushing it aside. She was grateful to him for taking over the ranch for her, but she wouldn’t feel guilty about it. She had no reason to.

  She could, however, help with his exhaustion. “Why don’t you take the day off?”

  He plucked his hat up and resettled it. “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not. We’re not short-staffed anymore, and this hit everyone hard. Take a day off, Aaron. Head into town. Sleep. Do something other than stand in the sun all day and work yourself to the bone. I can’t afford for you to get worn down and fall ill.”

  Behind her, she felt Cole’s fingers brush her waist, lending quiet support. “I can pitch in. I have two arms now and everything.”

  Aaron snorted. “That is special.” He crunched down on the bacon again. “Yeah, sure, if you guys have things covered I guess I wouldn’t mind getting some more sleep…”

  He still hadn’t looked up, and Nat couldn’t decide if it was sheer exhaustion that kept his eyes on his plate, or discomfort at admitting he wasn’t Superman.

  “We have things covered.” Cole moved closer, reaching around to offer Nat a piece of toast with jam. She hesitated, then, with a chuckle at feeling like a teenager again—not that she’d felt like one when she’d actually been that age—she took a bite.

  Aaron glanced up at them, one side of his mouth quirking. “Right. Don’t forget to feed the horses while you’re busy feeding each other.”

  Nat gave him a mock dirty look, too busy chewing to answer. She felt Cole’s laughter along the back of her neck, and his fingers moved along her ribs, mostly out of sight behind her arm. The touch made her squirm. She didn’t know if Aaron noticed or not. He was leaving, anyway, heading out the door and into the already bright sunshine. As soon as he was gone Nat whipped around and poked at Cole, swallowing her toast and laughing. “What are you doing?”

  “Caressing?” he suggested innocently.

  “More like tickling!”

  He grinned. “Caressing with light, quick strokes.”

  Her laughter curled out, free and comfortable. She couldn’t help being slightly surprised that it was there at all. It seemed that, with Buddha’s death looming over her, she shouldn’t be able to be happy. And yet she was.

  “What’s that look for?” His hands settled on her waist, not tickling this time, just resting.

  She took a deep breath and released it, letting stress wash away as well. “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.” Glad she hadn’t chased him away. Glad she’d listened to Aaron. Glad she got several weeks with him before he left.

  Then she gestured to his food, turning back to her own plate. “Eat up. Lots of work to be done today. No more goofing off.”

  “What if I goof off while I work?” he asked, shoveling eggs into his mouth.

  Nat chuckled. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Early afternoon found Cole with Emma, not that that was much of a surprise. Nat crept up, listening to him speak softly to the mare. Emma was looking better every day. The small cuts had already closed, the larger ones had scabbed over and were starting to peel away. The single infected wound was even starting to look better. Her coat was still too soft for health, the hair short enough that they kept her in at night when the temperature cooled. Her shaved mane was beginning to grow in as half-inch prickles all the way down her neck. It was too early yet for her to have gained any weight, so her skin still hung off the ridge of her spine and her ribs still clawed the inside of her flesh with every breath. But she was eating slowly and steadily, and that alone was a whisper of hope.

  Cole’s words floated through the barn, soft murmurs of nothingness meant simply to fill the air with comforting noise. Nat let them waft around her, watching as he brushed a damp towel over Emma’s injuries, soaking away any dirt or shavings that had collected in the scabs overnight.

  After a moment he saw Nat and stopped speaking, a smile spreading slow across his face. “Hello, beautiful.”

  Nat huffed a small laugh, shaking her head not at his words, but at herself for being pleased. Her life would be easier if she weren’t pleased. If she didn’t care what he said or wish things could work between them.

  She pushed all that aside, though, and focused on this moment, on the sunlight filtering through the air and turning dust motes golden, on the shift and shuffle of horses, on Emma’s quiet chewing. “How’s she doing?” Nat tipped her head toward the mare, though she could have answered her own question—had, in fact, in the brief glance she’d taken.

  Cole settled a possessive hand on the horse, turning to look over her lingeringly before he answered. “Good. She seems happier.”

  “I thi
nk you do that.”

  “Do I?” His hand slid off the horse as he stepped close, coming up along the door where Nat stood. Broad hands slid up and down her biceps. “Do I do that for you, too?”

  She chuckled, enveloped in his scent, and leaned closer. “A little.” A deep breath brought her all her favorite smells: shavings and horse sweat, the sweet molasses of oats and the dustiness of grain. And with it, wrapped up in comfort and warmth, twining as though it belonged, Cole’s scent.

  He leaned in and kissed her, a brush of lips across hers. “Good.” When he pulled back, his gaze traveled her face. She wondered what he saw.

  “You know, I’m almost glad everything happened the way it did,” he said at last. “The fall, the cracked bones—all of it. If it hadn’t been that bad, I wouldn’t have come here. I always thought I just never had time for any sort of real relationship, but on second thought, I think it was just that I hadn’t met the right person.”

  His words sounded alarmingly permanent. She looked at him, searching his face to see how serious he was. Very serious, from what she could tell. Nat took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “You realize this probably won’t last, right?”

  He’d been watching her, expression a little soft. They sharpened at her words. “Are you calling this realism or cynicism?” he asked with a smile. An offer to laugh it off, share in the joke.

  Nat didn’t take him up on it. She shook her head once, her braid snaking across her back. “I can’t leave. Are you willing to quit reining and join me here?”

  The look on his face was answer enough.

  Her mouth twisted in something short of a smile. “Exactly.”

  “We can visit—”

  “With all our free time?” Nat interrupted dryly. It stopped Cole from speaking, but she wished she hadn’t said it—even if it was true. His eyes turned dark with the breaking of dreams.