by Zuri Day
“I don’t want to believe it. But I also want to keep us safe.”
Us. She knew it shouldn’t, but the way he’d used that word made her feel warm and cozy. Like he had at least some of her best interests at heart. Like maybe in one way or another, just a little, she mattered. Silly girl.
“Charli?”
His voice was soft and low, pouring over like warm, soapy water, or the sweet, sticky molasses that Griff so enjoyed. Her muscles clenched, her thong became wet and she thought of things that happened between a woman and a man when clothes were not an option.
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
He’d said it so sincerely, as if he had a stake in asking, as if he really wanted to know. So before she could think or rationalize or put on her superwoman cape and feign indifference, she answered honestly. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
She told him about the confrontation, about what had happened earlier between her and Cedric. A shorter, more sanitized version, leaving out the bit about parties and barns and near sexual assaults. “He terrorized me when we were younger,” she explained. “I’ve never liked him.”
“I don’t, either.” Warren’s words were short, curt, delivered in anger. “Just say the word and I’ll have a talk with him. I hate when a so-called man tries to intimidate someone of the weaker sex.”
“I’m not weak!” Charli retorted, her hackles raised at once at the mere suggestion. “Just because I’ve been vulnerable does not mean I’ve been weak.”
“Sorry, baby, poor choice of words. Dang, my bad. ‘Baby’ might also be offensive. I mean no harm, Charli. I’m on your side.”
“I believe that. And I just may be a tad hypersensitive.”
“You think?”
She laughed at the humor in his voice. “I’ve grown up holding the banner for women while surrounded by men.”
“You’ve done a great job.” A companionable silence ensued for a few seconds and then, “Charli, where are your parents, if you don’t mind me asking? I was thinking about you the other day and realized that there is so much that I do not know.”
She knew that she should hedge, that she should put her guard up to this blatant request for personal information. But for the life of her she couldn’t find a defensive bone in her body. She was too busy smiling at the fact that he’d been thinking about her.
“Better yet, why don’t we both take a break and go riding? I haven’t had Coal out all day and could use the fresh air. What about you?”
“That sounds like a great idea, Drake.”
“Good. I’ll be at your place in about five minutes.”
Charli listened as Griff’s hard-heeled boots scraped the hardwood floor. Even though they’d shared a bonding moment, she knew that Griff still held it against him that Warren was a Drake. “Why don’t we meet down by the fence instead?”
“See you there.”
Several minutes later, Warren watched the fluid motions of horse and rider as Charli rode up to meet him. She wore no cowboy hat today. Instead, her natural curls bounced in the wind, along with lush breasts straining against a pastel-yellow tee. He took in khakis molding her thighs and felt his passion rise. She was wild and free, like the countryside. He couldn’t remember having seen a more beautiful sight in his life.
“Hey,” she said when she pulled along beside him.
“Hello, Charli.”
“Where do you want to ride?”
“Why don’t you take the lead? You know this land better than I do.”
“I do, don’t I?” He’d barely caught the sparkle of mischief in her eyes before she turned the reins, tapped her palomino and took off. “Yah!”
Warren burst out laughing as he took off after her. She obviously still remembered how he’d beaten her during that first impromptu race and wanted to even the score. He had no problem letting her stay ahead. It gave him a chance to appreciate how well she was wearing those pants, how her butt lifted rhythmically with the gait of the horse, how her hair blew in the wind and how he wanted to wrap his arms around her slender waist and not let go.
For several minutes the only sounds were horse hooves hitting hard dirt. As they entered a wide expanse of land, framed by a cloudless blue sky, vibrant green grass and a copse of trees on one side, Warren gave Coal the signal and the horse shot forward, easily catching up to Charli and her horse.
“Still trying to beat me, huh?” Warren shouted, as they matched each other stride for stride.
“A girl can dream!” Charli laughed, and to Warren it sounded like joy and felt like fairy dust. It transported him to his childhood, when he was young, life was fun and there wasn’t a care in the world. She turned down a dirt lane, one that Warren hadn’t even known was there. It was as if they’d been transported to another world as large trees bordered the road on both sides, their branches so large and leafy that it created a shady canopy—or, as they slowed their horses to a trot and Warren took in the natural beauty beside him, a lovers’ haven.
They reached a part of the fence that was indented, built around a large oak tree. Charli turned her horse into the space, dismounted and looped the reins around the top of a protruding board. Warren followed suit.
Warren looked at his surroundings, and then back at Charli. “Beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it? I used to spend hours here, felt it was my own personal paradise.”
“The landscape is lovely, but that’s not what I meant.” He took a step closer. “You’re beautiful, Charli.”
Charli took a step back and came up against the fence. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and Warren could see the quickened pulse on her neck. She licked her lips nervously. It was Warren’s undoing, bringing back a rush of memories. Another time. That first caress. He quickly closed the distance between them and, without a word or a second’s hesitation, pressed his lips against Charli’s as his arms went around her. When she opened her mouth to protest, he took full advantage, sliding his tongue inside her moist sweetness. A moan escaped her mouth. Warren caught it, swallowed it and deepened the kiss—pressing his body full against her, his pelvis beginning a familiar dance on its own.
For a few blissful seconds, Charli’s mind was totally detached from her body, causing her not to think, but to feel. And what a feast of feeling stood before her: from the broad shoulders her hands sculpted to the strong back they slid down, all while experiencing the most delicious kiss she’d ever felt. Unlike other men she’d known, Warren’s wasn’t so much a kiss as a collision. The way his tongue swirled lazily with hers and his head rotated to match his pelvis.
Through her haze, she felt a piece of wood that was harder than the planks against her back and butt. This human woody fairly pulsated against her abdomen and brought moisture to her sex as it was ground against her. She began to shake with the intensity of her attraction, began to feel as though she were being pulled into a vortex from which there would be no return.
With the last vestiges of sanity and control...she broke the kiss.
But Warren would not let her break his hold. “Charli,” he whispered, his tongue darting out to touch her ear. “There’s something between us. I know you feel it, too.”
“It’s rather hard to miss,” was her dry reply.
Warren chuckled. “Not only this,” he said, nudging her with his rock-hard penis. “But also these feelings, this thing between us. I don’t just want to have sex with you, I want to date you. I want us to ride out this attraction and see where it leads.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready.”
Warren released her and took a step back. “We’ll go as slow as you’d like.”
“Are you sure you can wait that long?” Charli’s eyes searched his, trying to read his mind as well as hear his words.
Warren’s eyes narrowed as he slowly perused her body, going from her head to her feet and back up again. He noted the hardened nipples straining against her T-shirt, her moist, kiss-swollen lips, her fl
ushed face and the desire in her eyes.
His smile was bright, his eyes knowing as he answered her question with one of his own. “Can you?”
Chapter 23
Warren stood to the side of the large hole. He watched his grandfather, obviously in his element, converse with the gold-mining expert he’d phoned and brought to the site. Walter, decked out in hard hat and blue jeans, rubber boots and a cotton shirt, laughed at something the expert said and Warren smiled. It was clear that calling his grandfather had been the right thing to do. Walter Drake often boasted about how much he loved retirement, but he also loved people. Looking at him now, Warren knew that interacting in this type of productive fashion was something that his grandfather missed.
It was just as well that Walter was here, and in control. Because try as he might, even with the prospect of finding the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow before him, all he could think about was Charli and yesterday evening’s conversation, the one they’d had on the way back from their spontaneous tryst in the woods. Even now it replayed in his mind.
* * *
“Tell me about your parents.”
Charli had hesitated only a moment before answering. “They divorced when I was little. Dad remarried, had two more children—my younger half brother and sister—and lives in Hawaii. My mother started dating Pierre when I was thirteen. That’s when I began spending most of my time at Grandpa’s ranch. They married when I was sixteen and I moved in with Grandpa until it was time for college.”
“Why didn’t you stay with your mother? Did you not like Pierre?”
“He tried as best he could, but I probably wouldn’t have liked anyone my mother brought into my life. I’d been a huge daddy’s girl, just adored my father. It hurt me deeply when he left, seemingly without a backward glance. It was years later when I learned that his new wife had a lot to do with it, that she was always jealous of my mother, and afraid he’d go back to her. And since I am part of my mother, she was jealous of me, too. To say that she didn’t encourage a continued relationship is putting it mildly.
“But by the time Pierre and my mom married, I’d accepted their relationship and become somewhat cordial. He’s from Canada, though, and when they made the decision to move back there, I chose to stay. I’d become as close to my grandfather as I’d once been to my dad.”
“Did I ever meet your mother?”
“Cherise Reed? Probably not. We lived in Oakland. But you might have seen her picture. She used to model, and appeared quite frequently in Ebony, Essence and other magazines. Her most popular picture is the one where she is wearing strips of colorful, carefully placed strips of cloth...and not much else.”
“I remember!” Warren had said after a moment of thinking. “Very regal, looked a little like that other dark-skinned model...what’s her name?”
“Iman. Yes, you’ve remembered. My mom actually did a few shows with Iman, in Paris and Milan. But that was before she married and had children.”
“Children as in plural? You have a sibling outside of your half brother and sister?”
“No, I don’t. My mom became pregnant with what would have been my younger sister. But she was stillborn.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I was only four years old and don’t remember.”
“Charli,” Warren had asked once they reached the gate where their ride had begun and they’d stilled the horses.
“Yes?”
“I asked Griff and he wouldn’t tell me. But do you know what happened between our grandfathers?”
“I know what my grandfather and Griff have told me. But your grandfather is still living, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d have to agree with Griff on this one. I think that you should ask him.”
* * *
As he watched Walter wave him over to where the men now gathered, Warren considered Charli’s suggestion to ask him what happened. Before his grandfather left California for New Orleans, he vowed to do just that.
“We’ve got a situation,” Walter said as soon as Warren reached them.
“What’s happening?”
“The way things are looking, we need to dig horizontally instead of vertically.” Walter’s face was fixed in a frown as he delivered this news.
Warren shrugged. “Fine with me.”
“Not so fine, grandson.”
“It’s our land. What’s the problem?”
Walter looked at the man he’d known since his gold heyday, the expert he’d flown up from his retirement home in Florida.
“This device here,” Mr. Sanders said, “tracks gold. We put it on the end of a prod and send it into the ground for readings. We’ve been doing that all morning and the more we dig westward—” the man pointed toward Charli’s farm “—the louder she pings.”
“Ah,” Warren said, as Walter’s concerns dawned. “You think the gold might run all the way onto Reed property.”
Walter scowled. “Precisely. And I sure hope that that is not the case.”
“Why, Grandpa? I’ll just alert Charli and Griff that there’s—”
“Griff?” Walter interrupted. “Is that mean hound still living?”
Hmm, that conversation about Charles Reed and the ranch may take place sooner than I thought. “Yes, Grandpa. He’s very much alive. He and Charles Reed’s granddaughter still have the farm and still run the dairy.”
“Well, the last thing you want is to get them involved in this. If Griff gets a sniff of money about, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
Warren looked at the curious expressions of Jackson, Tom, Mr. Retirement and the crew and then looked at his grandfather. “Let’s take a ride,” he said, already turning to walk away. “I need you over here.”
He walked fast, knew that his grandfather was working to keep up, but kept moving. When he reached the SUV he popped the lock and climbed inside.
Walter was right behind him. “What’s going on, Warren? You left those men like the devil was after you. What’s over here that I need to see?”
Warren turned to face him. “A different perspective.”
“Excuse me?”
“Or at least I do. When I first took an interest in this property, I had no concern about or knowledge of my neighbors. Then, when I put up the property fence, I met Charli, Charles’s granddaughter. She was rude and full of attitude.”
“You said she was kin to Charles, right? You’ve heard that saying about apples and trees.”
“Later,” Warren continued, pointedly ignoring his grandfather, “I met Griff and got more of the same.”
“Surprised you didn’t get filled with buckshot,” Walter mumbled.
“But a few weeks ago, after yet another misunderstanding, I went over to their house.” Walter looked at him, aghast. “We talked about what was bothering me and settled some things. I’m proud to say that as of right now, we’re cordial neighbors, I’d even say friends. But that’s not why I pulled you away from the group.”
Walter was silent, possibly still digesting Warren’s surprising words. “You wanted to tell me about your new friendships?” he finally asked with more than a little sarcasm.
“No. I want you to tell me about your past enemy. Specifically, I want to know what happened between you and Charles Reed.”
Chapter 24
“I need to see you.”
Five simple words that caused Charli to unexpectedly exercise her core muscle. It had been two days since their horse ride, and Coal’s rider had been all she’d thought about. Him, the kiss and the impossibility of it all.
“I’m rather busy,” she responded after a pause. “We’ve got a man coming by to give an estimate on fixing the water tank and Bobby just discovered a hole in the fence that—”
“Charli. Stop.”
She knew she was prattling but with the myriad of thoughts and emotions chasing themselves around her brain, it was the best she could do.
“Five or ten minu
tes is all I need.” She continued to hesitate. “It’s important.”
“Are you at the ranch?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Charli pulled her Ford up next to Warren’s shiny new SUV. She’d purposely covered her ripped tank top and jeans with an oversize striped shirt, then knotted it at the waist. Unbeknownst to her, what she called modesty Warren would find as sexy as sin.
Looking around and not seeing Warren, she exited the truck and walked up to the man she’d seen on both of her previous visits to the ranch.
“Excuse me.” The man turned around. “I’m looking for Drake.”
The man’s brow rose slightly. “Warren?” She nodded. He smiled. “Charli, right?” Another nod. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Jackson Wright, Warren’s brother-in-law.” They shook hands. “He’s in his office.” He pointed to a building not far from the stables. “His office is at the end of the hall. I think his secretary may be at lunch, so if she’s not at her desk, go on back.”
“Thanks.”
Charli walked across the gravel drive to a simple A-frame building painted a stark white with black trim. Here, a concrete sidewalk had been poured, leading up to the door. She entered and after seeing the desk facing the door empty, continued down the hall.
“Drake?”
“Back here.”
She stopped, took a deep breath and then proceeded to the open door at the end of the hall. “Hello.”
“Hello, sexy neighbor.”
Doing her best to ignore the compliment, she took a moment to look around his office and get her feelings in check. The plainness of the outside was deceiving. Inside, Drake’s office looked rich and inviting: floors made of ebony wood with the same wood used for the built-in bookcases only half-filled with books. In contrast his desk was modern, made mostly of smoky glass, and devoid of anything save an iPad and the folder he was perusing. On his tan-colored walls were framed enlarged photographs of what appeared to be an aerial view of the property, a wide shot of his vineyards and a close-up picture of a cluster of grapes. There were also two framed diplomas and a black-and-white photo of a young man in overalls standing next to a tractor.