“You came a long way to see her,” Jo-Jo remarked, her faded gray eyes holding his.
“Yes, I did.” He wasn’t ready to volunteer anything more, not when he didn’t even understand what had compelled him to go six hours out of his way. “Miranda speaks very fondly of you,” Keith said.
“She and I have always had a special bond,” Jo-Jo said. “I’m glad she’s come, but I’m a little concerned about this sudden interest of hers in wild horses.” She eyed him speculatively. “She’s always been a grounded and sensible girl, which makes me wonder why she’s so determined to take on a herd of mustangs.”
“She’s spoken to you about that?” Keith remarked in surprise.
“Yes. I hate to be blunt, but I’d like to know if you had anything to do with this. Did you put the idea into her head?”
“Absolutely not,” Keith scoffed. “She hasn’t talked you into it, has she?”
“Not yet, but I admit I’ve been chewing on this whole thing. I had an hour-long discussion with the regional BLM wild-horse administrator yesterday. It seems they’re pretty desperate to find a place to pasture several hundred horses they just gathered in Wyoming.”
“The checkerboard herds,” he said.
“You know something about it?” she asked.
“Yes. I was there. They were all taken to Rock Springs, the same facility that’s now been forced to take three loads of horses from Gunnison, Utah.”
“That explains a lot,” Jo-Jo said. “No wonder the BLM agent called me back so quickly.”
“What did he say?” Keith asked.
“That they have a greater than anticipated surplus of wild horses and are actively seeking pasturing agreements with private ranches.”
Keith laughed outright. “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. I’m sure they’re chasing their tails, looking at any possible prospect to unload horses. What do you plan to do, Miz Sutton?”
“I’m still undecided. I really don’t want to sell my ranch. On the other hand, I don’t want Miranda to make any commitments she’ll later regret. She has a compassionate nature, but this would be a life-changing decision. I’m not sure she understands that.”
“I agree,” Keith replied. “Are you going to try to dissuade her?”
“I’ve tried, without much success.”
“It’s a long drive to Utah. Maybe I can talk some sense into her.”
“Good luck with that.” The corners of Jo-Jo’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile. “I’m afraid Miranda takes after me. She’s like a dog with a bone when she sets her mind on something.”
Miranda appeared in that moment with purse in hand, backpack slung over her shoulder. “Talking about me?” She flashed a mischievous grin. “You don’t really have to answer that. My ears were burning the whole time I was gone. Ready, Keith?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Bye, Jo-Jo.” She planted a quick, parting peck on her grandmother’s cheek. “Thanks for understanding. Keith and I really do have a lot to talk about.”
Jo-Jo’s gaze darted from one to the other. “I know you do, sweetheart, but it’s not the talking that I worry about. You’ll take good care of her?” Jo-Jo asked Keith, worry etching lines around her mouth.
“I promise she’s in safe hands with me, Miz Sutton,” he reassured her.
“We’ll call you as soon as we get to Gunnison,” Miranda said.
Keith tossed Miranda’s bag into the back seat and then handed her up into the cab of his truck. She gave him a look of apology when he joined her inside. “I’m sorry if my grandmother gave you the third degree.”
“Doesn’t bother me.” He shrugged, started the engine, and began backing out of the drive. “She doesn’t know me from Adam. It’s only natural she’d worry about you. I’m glad she cares. Everyone needs someone who cares.”
“You speak as if you don’t…have anyone that does.”
He kept his hands on the wheel and his tone light. “Maybe I don’t. At least not anymore. I have a habit of alienating anyone who cares about me.”
“So I guess it didn’t go so well with your grandparents?” she said softly.
“No, it didn’t. I’ve tried to make amends for my mistakes. I cut all ties to my old life. I even cut my hair as an open act of contrition, but my sacrifices have all been in vain.”
“What do you mean you cut your hair? I don’t understand the connection.”
“In my culture, a man’s hair is a source of personal pride. Cutting it is often an act of penance or an expression of profound grief. For me, it was both, but the elders don’t easily forgive or forget.”
“What about the horse?” she asked.
“Let’s just say my grandfather found my gift as lacking as he still finds me.”
“I’m so sorry, Keith. I know that must really hurt.”
He looked away with a shrug. “I screwed up. I have to accept the consequences.”
“Maybe in time…”
His grip tightened on the wheel. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Taking his cue, she quickly changed the subject. “You really surprised me, showing up like you did. I still can’t believe you came all the way up here. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I didn’t think so either,” he replied. “But I’ve thought about you, Aiwattsi. Every day. I missed you, but there just didn’t seem any point in pursuing it, given the distance.”
“Then what changed your mind?”
“You came out here and changed everything. The distance has lessened.”
“Yes.” She leaned toward him. “Less distance is always good.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror to ensure they were out of view from the house, and then put the truck in park. He reached for her hand, twining his fingers with hers. “I have responsibilities I can’t shirk, but I couldn’t wait to see you…to be with you.”
“Me too,” she whispered back.
He didn’t need any further invitation. He cupped her face, kissing her slowly, lips gently brushing, then hungrily melding. Their tongues tangled. His heart hammered and pulse roared. One kiss had his body almost trembling with want. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he needed this. Needed her. Soon, he reminded himself.
“Keith?” Desire had darkened her eyes to the color of slate. “Did you really mean what you said about getting separate rooms?”
He ran a thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “I said we could get separate rooms. I never promised we would.”
Chapter 19
Miranda felt like she’d crawl out of her skin with anticipation as the truck slowly ate up the miles of highway between Montana and Utah. For the past two hours they’d stolen sidelong glances, both outwardly ignoring the sexual tension that electrified the air. They’d carried on sporadic spurts of small talk, while under it all every muscle felt tight and every nerve ending twitchy.
Casting another covert glance, she studied his profile, the high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, strong, masculine nose, and full, sensuous mouth, fixing on the last. Her insides quivering at the thought of those soft and knowing lips, on how he’d used his mouth on her body, on her sex. From the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, she was hyperaware of him.
“Don’t you get lonely, driving as much as you do?” she asked, breaking another long silence.
“Sometimes,” he said. “But I’ve gotten used to it. I’ve been traveling for a long time. Off and on for eight years.”
“I wouldn’t think the time would make it any easier. Does it?”
“No. Not really,” he confessed.
“Then why did you do it for so long?” she asked. “Did you really like it so much? Traveling all the time?”
“I did in the beginning. I was restless. I loved the freedom of a life on the road. I could do whatever I pleased, and I did. I got to see new places and meet lots of different people, but I soon got caught up in chasing things I thought I wanted—selfis
h things, material things—everything I was raised to despise. It was a real ego trip in the beginning, especially after my YouTube videos went viral, but I later came to see that I’d created an empty illusion. It was all about my persona, it wasn’t really me. They didn’t even know me.”
“But was it really their fault?” she asked. “I mean, how could it be? When you aren’t yourself, how can people ever get to know the real you? We see only what others allow us to see. We touch only the parts they allow us to touch.” And she ached to touch him now.
He caught her gaze and held it, his mouth curving smugly at the corners, as if reading her lust-filled thoughts. “Soon.” He tore his eyes away, murmuring the single syllable almost to himself.
“Soon?” she inquired softly.
“When we arrive,” he answered. “I thought we’d overnight in Provo. It’s only an hour from Gunnison. We can stay there tonight and pick up the horses in the morning.”
She shivered at the thought of another entire night alone with him.
“Do you always stay in motels when you’re on the road?” she asked.
“Not always,” he replied. “It all depends on where I am and the weather conditions. Sometimes I camp out in the truck bed. I keep an air mattress under the seat, just in case the mood strikes me. I prefer sleeping under the stars.”
“I enjoyed it too,” she said, then added with a grimace, “except for the mountain lions.”
“That was unusual,” he replied. “I’ve never had such a close encounter with one before.”
“Just my luck then.” She gave a dry laugh. “But it didn’t scare me off for good.”
“You’d do it again?” he asked, as if surprised.
“Yes. I would. As crazy as it sounds, I’d do it all over again. Maybe I’d even try your roasted rattlesnake.”
“Would you now?” His lips curved at the corners.
“Yes. I think I would. I can’t explain it very well, but that short trip into the desert was life-changing for me. I found the whole experience liberating. Then again, I suppose that might have a lot to do with my two near-death experiences,” she added with a laugh. “I liked the solitude and being away from it all. Even with the discomforts, I think I’d enjoy doing it again.”
“If that’s the case, there are a number of places I’d like to show you,” he said, “beautiful places—awe-inspiring canyons and breathtaking waterfalls—that few people even know about. But these sights are off the beaten track and not easy to get to.”
“I’m not daunted. Not with you as my guide.”
Their gazes met and held. “I’d gladly be your guide anywhere you choose to go, Aiwattsi.”
The look in his eyes made his double meaning clear. Her nipples tightened and mouth grew dry. “How much farther?” she asked.
“Three hours, but if nature’s calling, we can stop in Pocatello,” he said, apparently misreading her impatience. “It’s the halfway point. We need gas soon anyway.”
A few miles later they pulled off the highway. While Keith filled the tank, Miranda climbed out of the truck, glad for the chance to stretch her cramped legs and relieve her bladder.
“Hungry?” he asked after paying for the gas.
“Ravenous,” she replied, but food wasn’t going to satisfy her real hunger. Did he feel it too? She’d thought so earlier, but he seemed so restrained now.
“There’s a good diner nearby called Elmer’s,” he said. “I’ll take you there.”
As Keith promised, the food was both good and plentiful, but by the time they walked back to the truck, Miranda didn’t even remember what she’d eaten. Her mind was too full of Keith, of the night to come. She didn’t understand her physical reaction to him. She’d never felt like this with anyone. He reached behind her to open her door, enveloping her in his musky, masculine scent, a scent that had teased her the entire drive. “Three more hours?” she whispered.
Her remark snagged his full attention. “So impatient, Aiwattsi?” His expression confirmed that he really could read her mind. “Don’t think I haven’t also been counting down the hours. My thoughts have been filled with what I want to do with you…to you…from the moment you climbed into this truck.”
Her pulse fluttered. “Then why haven’t you?”
“Because I have responsibilities. I’m already a day late due to my detour to Montana. I’d planned for us to drive through to Provo and then spend the night together. It was a sensible plan.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “very sensible.”
“It was,” he said, stepping into her space. “But I’m liking it less every passing minute.” The look in his eyes made her breath hitch. If she’d wondered about his interest, there was no doubt now.
“Is there any alternative to that plan?” she asked.
“There is if you don’t mind getting up before the crack of dawn to drive to Gunnison.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “What do you want to do?” she countered, her eyes searching his.
“What do I want?” His arms caged her on either side, his body pressing hot and hard against hers. “You, Aiwattsi. Only you.”
* * *
They barely made it into their room before his mouth claimed hers, hot, aggressive, and devouring. Mindlessly she flung herself into it. Mouths melding, tongues thrusting and retreating, moans mixing and mingling. Dizzying, devastating, drugging kisses. Searching hands peeled away clothes. Touching, teasing. Sucking and stroking. Agonizing emptiness. Merciless need. Their limbs tangled and entwined.
Restless and writhing, he reached out. Gazes locking. He probed, then pierced hard and deep, shock and pleasure surging, senses swimming. Primal, pulsating pleasure.
Blissful friction. Rasping, ragged breaths. Erotic echoes of slapping flesh.
He plunged and pummeled in a ruthless, relentless rhythm.
Frantic and feverish. Edging them toward ecstasy.
Aching, quaking, quivering. Surging swells and sinuous spasms. Clutching, clawing, clenching, convulsing. Two voices cried out in ravaging release.
* * *
Sweating and spent, Keith lay watching Miranda. She opened her eyes to his. Her sleepy gray pools stared back at him and a sated smile gave a soft lift to her mouth. “I don’t understand what you do to me,” she said. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”
Neither had he. He was more comfortable with Miranda than he’d been with anyone in a very long time—maybe ever. He’d hidden himself from others, but he hadn’t hidden from her. He didn’t want to hold anything back. He wanted her to see him clearly, not as a romantic hero, but exactly as he was, with all his flaws and foibles, to know and accept and trust him as a friend as well as a lover. He reached out to trace her lips with a finger. “Are you content?”
She arched against him with a feline stretch. “Right now I am.”
He rolled her on top of him. “Tell me what else makes you happy, Aiwattsi.”
Her lips twitched. “Besides orgasms?”
“Besides the orgasms I give you?” he teasingly corrected.
“I’ve never known any other kind.” She looked down at his chest, tracing a circle around his nipple, her golden brows furrowing. “I’ve never really thought much about it. I guess my best times have always been spent with the people I love. I was happy when my father was alive. I hardly remember him, but I always feel warm and fuzzy inside when I think of my early childhood. I get the same feeling when I think about the times I spent at my grandparents’ ranch. So I guess that’s happiness.”
“What about your work?” he asked. “Does it make you happy?”
She hesitated. “That’s a completely different feeling. It’s like magic happens when I capture something special on film, but working for Bibi was all about the money not the magic.”
“Are you going back to California?”
“No. I’m not going back,” she said resolutely. “I know my options in Montana are extremely limited, but I’ve thought about this long and hard.
I’m going to look for freelance opportunities. Worst-case scenario, I can always fall back on commercials and television work.”
“But not filmmaking,” he said.
“Probably not, aside from my documentary,” she replied sadly. “I thought I wanted to make movies, but that life is all about money, beauty, power, and influence. Who you really are as a person means almost nothing out there. That’s not what I want.” She looked up, seeking his gaze. “What about you? What makes you happy?”
“This,” he said simply. “I like being with you.” He wanted to say so much more, but fear kept him in check.
“But what do you want from life?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still trying to figure it out. I’ve done a lot of soul-searching in the past year, but I still don’t have any answers. I don’t know what I want or where I’m going beyond here and now.”
“Do you intend to keep working for Mitch?”
“I haven’t decided,” he said. “It’s what I’m doing now, but I’ve quit thinking beyond the present. There’s little point when all my needs are met.”
“Are they all? Truly?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “My needs are very simple—air, food, water, clothing, and shelter. I have all of these.”
“But those are just physical needs,” she argued. “Life is more than just feeding and clothing the body, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft, but her words hit hard.
“The body feeds the soul. Haven’t I shown you this? That’s all I have to offer you, Miranda. Do you understand that? Only the here and now. If you expect more from me, you’ll only be disappointed.” He knew it was more than just lust between them, but how long would it last? He didn’t know. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her with promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.
Her gray eyes grew cloudy, changing the mood as abruptly as a brewing storm changed a sultry summer day. “Why do you say that? How can you know what I expect? Or what I desire?”
“I think I know your desires better than you do,” he replied.
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