“Shit. Move over. I’ll take over the bottom leg. You work with the top.”
Delaney’s heartbeat stalled. Not Doc Clinton.
Vic Vargas.
She whipped around to face him as he dropped to his knees beside her. “What are you doing here?”
“Does it matter?” He slid his hand into the birth canal, up the foal’s leg.
His shoulder brushed hers. The touch sent memories curling through her, memories she didn’t have time for. But it was more than the feel of his skin against hers that sent her reeling back in time. It was the way he smelled. So damn good.
A wave of dizziness passed through her and for a moment all she wanted to do was fall into his arms, to tell him what the curandera had said, and to have him comfort and reassure her that it hadn’t been a huge mistake to come back to San Julio. That everything would be okay.
She shook herself out of it. She was here to save a mare and foal.
“You don’t need to be here,” she said, denying her instinctive reaction and burying any thought of trusting Vic. She couldn’t think about how he used to make her feel. How he still made her feel. This wasn’t the time.
He looked at her, long and hard. “You need help.”
She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but he was right. Nothing but Jasper’s mare mattered right now. She nodded tightly and focused on the top leg. “We’ll turn counter-clockwise,” she said, visualizing the foal’s position again.
Beside her, Vic grunted an agreement. His shoulder wedged against hers as they both reached deeper into the mare, trying to get a better grip on the foal in the pelvic cavity. “Ready?”
She braced her feet against the ground. “On three,” she said. “One. Two. Three.” They bent together, Vic using his weight to turn the foal’s right leg while Delaney gently guided the leg she held over the muzzle. They worked slowly, applying pressure, rotating the foal’s body in the tight space.
“Almost there,” Vic said, his voice low, and she felt his breath on her neck, hyperaware of how close he was to her.
Delaney’s hand slipped, and the mare kicked again. She lurched back, falling on her behind to avoid a sharp hoof, and her body rammed against Vic’s side.
Their hands still gripping the foal, he helped her back to a kneeling position by leaning his thigh against her and pushing her up. “You okay?”
She could hardly breathe, her mind caught between focusing on the mare, all the old anger she’d been holding onto, and the array of sensations careening through her at being so close to Vic. “Yeah,” she finally managed to say, her voice strangled.
His breath was steady on her neck, his leg pressed against hers. He didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t look away from the mare. God, she wanted to know what he was thinking. What he felt being this close to her when he wasn’t trying to seduce her.
The pastor came into her peripheral vision. He swung the heavy bucket he was carrying away from his body, sloshing water as he set it down. “Vic. That your boy in your truck?”
Vic nodded. “He changed his mind about seeing the birth.”
“Smart kid,” the pastor said. He stood stone still for a moment and Delaney could feel his eyes on their backs as he tried to get a glimpse of the foal. “That’s a lot of blood. Probably don’t want him in here.”
The mare shifted again. The foal was almost in position. Thank God.
“Ready?” Vic asked her.
She nodded. “One. Two. Three.” They gripped and turned until finally the foal was in the correct position. Delaney released her hold on the foal’s leg and scooted back, watching as the mare strained to give birth. Vic held the foal’s muzzle as Delaney moved around to the back of the horse and stroked her stomach. “Good girl,” she cooed, watching in awe as the baby finally slipped free.
The placenta followed, and as Delaney dealt with it, Vic’s gaze rose, met hers, and for a moment she felt like she’d been the one to give birth and that there was nothing in the world except her and Vic.
The mare snuffled at her foal, and Delaney turned to watch, her heart tugging at the sight.
She couldn’t have done it without Vic. The foal or mare would have died. Maybe both. She swallowed her pride and faced him. At least she could offer him her gratitude. “I’m glad you came,” she said, giving him a hesitant smile. “Thanks.”
His palm played across the thin, inch-long spray of white hair along the foal’s neck. The gangly-looking animal was all ribs and legs. “No problem. She’ll grow into a beaut of a filly. Jasper will be happy.”
She came around to the foal and guided its head close to the mare’s. “We should let them be,” she said.
He nodded and stood, heading for the sink at the far end of the stable. She followed him and a moment later they stood side by side, wordlessly scrubbing their hands and forearms. The silence between them felt like a defective grenade. She didn’t dare speak, afraid if their conversation took a turn from the generic, her old anger might accidentally pull a long-hidden emotional pin, and God knew what words might unexpectedly explode from her. And yet…
Vic turned off the water and reached for a clean towel from the stack Jasper kept on a shelf above the basin. He propped a hip against the sink. The iciness that had been part of him during their encounter at the vet, and again at the bar after her rejection, had completely melted.
“Laney, we can be friends, right?”
She stilled. No, they couldn’t. “We have too much history to be friends, Vic. And your deal…?” She shook her head, remembering the feel of his fingers on her cheek, his scent, the— No. “It won’t work.”
His mouth curved into a semblance of a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It could.”
She was sure he could hear her heart pounding. Avoidance seemed like a good option right about now. Pastor Locke had said Zach was in Vic’s truck. She threw her towel over the rim of the sink and started back toward the barn door. “I think I’ll say hi to Zach.”
Vic followed, and in her mind’s eye she could imagine the small smile playing on his lips. He honestly thought she’d give in.
Outside, she breathed easier. The pastor and Zach were leaning against Vic’s truck, both silent and sullen. They looked up as she came out of the stable.
“Well?” Pastor Locke asked.
Delaney’s smile was shaky, but she mustered up a solid voice. “You’re the proud uncle of a beautiful tawny foal. She’s perfect.”
Zach’s eyes grew wide. “And you,” she said to Zach, “are an honorary cousin, I think.” Vic came up beside her. “Without your dad,” she added, “I don’t know if either of them would have made it.”
“Oh, no,” Vic said. “Delaney was the quick thinker. She had it all figured out. I just followed directions.”
She heard the sincerity in his words and had to look away, her pulse revving up again. She couldn’t let him make her feel this way. Way too dangerous.
Zach’s gaze darted to Vic for a split second, but quickly came back to Delaney. “Can I see, uh, him? Or her?”
She smiled. “It’s a filly. And of course.” She dared a glance at Vic and he nodded once, his gaze intent on her.
He obviously had no intention of giving up his pursuit. No desire to be just friends as he’d tried to convince her. She swallowed. Hard.
The boy bounded ahead into the stable and Delaney followed, the weight of Vic’s knowing gaze on her eliciting a combustible reaction in her body. One that she had no idea what to do with.
Vic was a complication she couldn’t afford. She couldn’t go back in time, didn’t dare get involved with him.
Her heart wouldn’t survive being broken again.
Chapter Seven
Vic’s gaze stayed glued to Delaney until she once again disappeared into Jasper’s stable, an eager Zach in tow. That wavy aubur
n hair. Those spectacular brown eyes, with a hint of amber. Those lips. He shook his head, ran his hand over his face. His reaction to her centered low in his belly, blood shooting to his erection until he couldn’t think straight. How could she still have this effect on him after all these years?
Dammit. He couldn’t let himself get tangled up with her. What was he thinking, offering friendship? Sex was one thing. Purging her from his soul, that was a one-shot deal. But what he was feeling was more than that. He shifted, willing his arousal away. Getting close to her again was a mistake.
But what if she truly needed him? Not his sexual advances, but his protection?
Esperanza’s words of warning still hung with him. The chupacabra. The animals being killed. What did it all have to do with Delaney?
Pastor Locke came up beside him. “Something wrong?”
Shit. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. He turned, hiding the bulge in his pants as best he could. “Nah. It’s all good.”
The pastor stared off into the distance. They stood in awkward silence for a minute, then Vic changed the subject. “When’s Jasper getting back?” he asked.
“Soon.” The pastor looked at the barn again, then at his watch. “Services aren’t for a while yet. I’ll stick around. You can leave.”
He should. Leave now and not see Delaney again. But he couldn’t make himself. “No, you head on out. I’ll check on the horses before I take off.”
Locke hesitated, but finally nodded. “Thanks again,” he said, looking at the barn one last time.
“I’ll be right behind you.” Vic headed back toward the stable to get Zach. He heard the pastor’s car start, turned to see him driving away, and his pace slowed. It was just him, his son, and Delaney.
He stopped at the stable door and listened.
“She’s so funny,” Zach said, his laughing tone almost urgent. “Sheila rolls over like she’s a dog!”
Delaney laughed, the sound melodic. And haunting. Vic remembered when she’d laughed with him. When he’d put his lips against her neck and purred like a tiger, tickling her until she screamed for mercy.
“I’m glad we brought her inside. I didn’t want her to get lonely outside at night.” Zach’s voice dropped. “Or scared.”
“You asked your dad?”
The corner of Vic’s mouth lifted. Just like Delaney to cut to the chase.
“It was his idea,” his son said.
They fell silent. He replayed their conversation in his head. Zach had never expressed how he felt to him as openly as he just had to Delaney. And after just two meetings. Vic shook his head, frustrated.
As he entered the stable, he was struck by how closely Zach and Delaney were standing next to one another. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear. Zach stared straight ahead at the foal and mare, but nodded.
Vic came up behind them and draped his arm over Zach’s shoulder. Zach’s body stiffened, Vic’s touch an intrusion into the comfort zone he’d been in with Delaney. Vic tried to ignore the stab of hurt it shot through his gut. He was Zach’s father, dammit. Why wouldn’t his son let him in?
He reluctantly brought his arm back to his side. He wouldn’t push it. Zach needed time.
Vic glanced at Delaney, who straightened and inched away from him, her arms folding over her chest.
He couldn’t win with her, either. His proposition of sex last night had been met with flat refusal, as had his offer of friendship earlier. She really did hate him. Or was it her own guilt that she’d left him high and dry that had made her build such a solid wall around herself?
And here he’d thought they’d shared a moment.
Just like with Zach.
They stood in silence for a few more minutes, watching the foal and mare connect, the baby’s most basic need drawing her toward her mother. Nurturing simply wasn’t the same for a father. Vic’s chest tightened at the unfairness. Even in nature, a father got shafted. He didn’t offer sustenance, didn’t have the soft bosom or the nurturing soul a child responded to.
If only Vic could get a chance to show Zach he had even more to offer. Like his love and his commitment and his loyalty. If only he’d known about Zach from the beginning, he’d have been there for him. He hoped to hell it wasn’t too late.
Delaney walked to the barn door. “We should go,” she said. Her quiet voice was all it took to propel his son toward the exit.
In the doorway, Zach glanced over his shoulder at the horses. “Can I come back?”
She smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “You have to ask your dad, but I don’t think Jasper would mind.”
He turned to Vic. “Is it okay?”
Vic nodded. “Of course.” He gently squeezed Zach’s shoulder. “Now go on, get in the truck. I’ll be right there.”
Zach headed off. No sullen expression for a change. Just acquiescence. Vic watched him. It was as if he were a completely different kid. With a frown that was half frustration, half respect, he turned to Delaney. “How’d you do that?”
She stopped next to him at the barn door and raised her eyebrows. “Do what?”
He notched his chin toward the truck. “Get him to talk.”
“He…doesn’t he usually talk?”
“Not often.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips.
Vic’s attention lasered in on those lips. He was torn between wanting to know Delaney’s secret about how to deal with Zach and dealing with the burning remembrance of how her lips had tasted when he used to kiss her.
Her arms tightened across her chest, her breasts swelling at the top of her shirt. Shit. His gaze slipped and he felt another hard pull in his groin. God help him, even as antagonistic and unforgiving as she was, he wanted her now.
She dropped her arms and pulled her jacket closed, as if reading his mind. “I’m sure Zach will come around.” She started to turn. “I should go.”
But he didn’t want her to go quite yet. He could be unforgiving, too, and right now he wanted to make her sweat. Like he was. If she wasn’t going to let him have sex with her to purge her from his system, he needed to exorcize those painful memories some other way.
Like getting some payback for the hurt she’d caused him.
He zeroed in on the last conversation they’d had before she ran away, when she’d finally wanted to make love with him—just before they were set to elope. They’d been in his truck. Her shirt had fallen open as she twisted her arm and tried to reach around his back to pull him closer.
“Be still,” he’d murmured in her ear, knowing that his kisses made her heart skip and sent an explosion of tingling between her legs. She’d told him so.
His thumb brushed over her white cotton bra as his lips brushed along her jaw, finding her lips again. His tongue explored her mouth and she moaned as one of his hands slid down the side of her body and found its way to her inner thigh. Higher. She cried out when he suddenly pulled away. Tried desperately to pull him back.
“I’m ready.” She slid her hand down his abdomen, felt his erection, and quickly pulled her hand away. She was skittish, but determined. “I want you. Please, Vic.”
Breathing hard, he closed his eyes. “Don’t…”
She moved her fingers to the tip of him. “Is this right?” she asked nervously.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away from him. “Don’t, or I won’t be able to stop.”
“Good,” she said softly. Enticingly.
Vic shook his head, smoothing her hair back with fingers that nearly shook with want. “We’ve come this far. We have to wait, Laney.”
“We’ll be married soon anyway.” She tried to tug free from his grasp, but he held tight. “Why not?”
“Because you’ve said from the beginning that you wanted to wait until our
wedding night. A few more hours. I don’t want you to regret anything.”
She kissed him again and he slid his hand higher on her thigh until his fingers brushed her damp panties. She moaned again.
He stopped. Pulled away. Leaned his forehead against hers, fighting his need. “Damn, I wish I had a ring for you.”
“I don’t need a ring.” Lifting her hand, she shook her wrist. “The bracelet is enough.”
“It’s not the same.”
She smiled and cupped his face. “It is to me.” The delicate silver chain held a horseshoe pendant as the focal point. For my rodeo champ, he’d said when he gave it to her. She hadn’t taken it off since.
“You’re all packed?” he asked.
“For weeks now. I just have to get through dinner with the family and some neighbors tonight and then we can ride off into the sunset. Or sunrise, I guess.”
“I’m no prince, Laney.” He looked at her solemnly.
She put her finger to his lips before he could start lecturing her about why they should wait to get married. “I know exactly what I want. That’s never going to change.”
He brought her wrist up and brushed his lips over the heel of her hand. Her smile erased the furrow of concern on his face. “You better go now.”
He kissed her before she got out of his truck. “See you at three forty-five.”
She blew him a kiss as she walked down the road to her house, believing that soon she’d be Mrs. Vicente Vargas.
But because he’d decided to ask her parents proper, he hadn’t gone to meet her in the wee hours. He knew that if he had, she’d have done everything in her power to change his mind. He wouldn’t have been able to resist her pleas. So he’d stayed away. After all, what difference could a couple of hours make?
A lot, as it turned out. He still regretted that decision.
But things were very different now. Delaney West wasn’t a girl madly in love with him. Probably never had been. Instead of waiting for him, or at least coming to him and talking about it, she’d left him. Just like that, with no looking back. She’d broken his heart years ago, and all bets were off.
Sacrifice of Passion (Deadly Legends) Page 6