Of The Cowboy's Own Accord (Double Dutch Ranch; Love At First Sight #3)

by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

  Rebel? Gracelyn succeeded in hiding tears wanting to fall. “By the way, back to earlier. You mentioned rings. You’ll need one too.” She tapped her finger against her bottom lip then lifted her gaze to him. “Make love to me. Like you did two nights before you left—filled with passion and grit.”

  “I never forgot that night.” Dane clasped her hand. “When I got on the bus that weekend, my heart broke to leave you standing there alone, with no idea of what waited for either of us—if you’d wait nine months for me to come home, or even if I’d make it home.”

  She freed her hand and cupped hers around his face. “I know the feeling. A part of me died from missing you as time went on until I found out about the baby. I do believe it was meant to be, but I tried my best to hide it from you in video chat.”

  “I didn’t mind looking at your face close-up, but I did question it, for about a second.” A heavy sigh led to his next statement. “So that was the reason for the close-up? I wish you would’ve told me you were pregnant…” He glanced down for a moment, but flashed a smile when he gazed at her. “But, that was yesterday. From now on, we’ll live from today.” He tipped her chin. “And girl, you aren’t the only one who believes it. I’m about to pick you up into my arms.” Dane closed his eyes a moment before looking back at her. “It’ll be different. I had two good arms then and no injuries.”

  “And I have a baby. Are you allowed to lift this soon after your kidney removal? I have extra weight now, too. Don’t lift me yet.”

  “Sort of. You don’t weigh that much, and they’ve had me working out in PT. I meant because of my arm. Now, about that grit…”

  “I’ll pick up where you leave off.” She caressed his face and brushed fingers over the light layer of scruff covering his chin. “I love you. Whatever came over us that night, no longer matters because this is the here and now—we’re together. We know what we feel. How can it be wrong?”

  “It isn’t wrong.” He opened his arms. When she went into them, he held her hips, lifting her.

  “You had to do it anyway.” It was finally time, reality where she’d give-in to the love of her life, again, and this time, with no worries about anything.

  They stumbled to the bedroom where he released her once inside the door. She pulled his shirt over his head. Running her nails down his chest, she gently traced the scars. So muscular he was, even now after being out of commission.

  His eyes closed and he emitted a pleasant sigh. “Gracelyn…”

  “I’m here.” She slid her pajama bottoms down and off and stood in nothing but a t-shirt that came to her thighs.

  His hands lowered to her hips. “You look sexy this way, but wait…” He held his hands up and fumbled to unroll one wrap. “I’m removing this elastic bandage from my hand. It’s not pretty but I want to touch you with my skin not a bandage.”

  Gracelyn took his hand and slowly unrolled the bandage. She stopped with a couple rolls left. “What does it look like?”

  His left hand shot to his forehead. “Holy hell, I should have asked you first if you cared. I’m sorry.”

  “You know I don’t care. I want to know in advance so I’ll be careful in the right places as I unwrap the bandage.” Stubborn man. Still, she wondered how mangled it had been. Not out of fear of looking, but she didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes at the memory.

  “Index finger, better known as my trigger finger is missing two joints. It looks mostly healed, a little red on the end. My ring finger is gone. Gone. There are stitch marks at the base of the hand where the finger had to be removed. Some of the others, mainly my little finger doesn’t look too good from being crushed and stitched back together, but the finger is there.” He shrugged. “It kind of looks like I’m flipping somebody off, all the time.”

  Gracelyn held back tears of remorse for his loss. The pain had to be excruciating when it happened. How could he tolerate it? “Please be aware that I’ll help in any way I can, like with your buttons and whatever else.”

  “I can barely hold a pen the normal way. Then after I get it secured I can’t even write. When I was a kid I’d hold my pencil between my thumb and middle finger. You’d think that would come back to me now when I need it.” With his head down, he raised his eyes to hers, and sighed. “The therapist says before long the other fingers will take over. I’ve noticed that already.”

  Studying his face as he spoke, the mental anguish showed in his eyes, and she did one more wrap thinking back to some news reports she had seen, or maybe overheard her father talking. “Can they give you a prosthetic?”

  “That is in the future plans for my index finger. Having movement incorporated into looks is a good idea—at least to look normal minus one whole finger. Plus, it’ll help with cinching a saddle…cutting, things like that. Things I need to do on the ranch.” His eyes closed a moment and he sighed.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “If guys think you’re flipping them off, kick their ass. Look at what you are.” Gracelyn did a quick once over and lifted her chin. “You’re definitely strong enough.”

  “It isn’t about being strong enough, honey. Tell the Army that when they discharge me.”

  Even though she tried to imagine what it’d be like to not have full use of a hand, she couldn’t really know, and she continued to unwrap. After tossing the bandage aside, she examined his hand. He must’ve kept it wrapped for looks—to hide it because it appeared to be nearly healed. She kissed his palm. It looked much better than what she had anticipated. “This is something that can be dealt with.”

  He peered at his hand. “I don’t suppose I can even type if they put me on a desk—well, two finger typing is possible, I suppose. You should count on me being retired. Maybe it is time to call it done. Count my blessings and move on to ranching.”

  Scars showed on the back of his hand, too, where he had been stitched up and it led to more scars on his arm. She ran a finger over part of the skin graft. Tears welled behind her eyes, although she’d not let them fall. “Can you ride a horse? Or do whatever else a rancher does?”

  Observing his hand, he frowned. “Probably. I can lift bales of hay, fix a fence, and shoe a horse, etcetera.”

  “Then you’re a rancher.” She gripped his biceps and gave him a jerk. “You’re a cowboy rancher who used to be an Army Ranger, but will more than likely always be a soldier. Can you live with that? Because I bet your son will want to learn how to ride a horse one day, play in the hay, and do…um, etcetera.” Her lashes fluttered involuntarily. “And so will his mother—your wife.” Gracelyn covered her mouth with her cupped hand for she was ready to burst out in tears.

  Dane took her hand and did a slow stroll to the bed. “Since you put it that way, being a rancher again doesn’t seem so bad.” He pulled her t-shirt over her head and gazed at her body. His mouth went to her breasts, larger now than they were, and he gave them tender kisses and soft caresses with his thumb. Soulful sighs slipped through his lips. When he lifted his eyes to hers, he smiled and licked his lips. “You taste good…like you…the taste I remember.”

  He dropped to his knees and smoothed his fingers over her abdomen. “My baby,” he whispered, then kissed her belly while their gaze held. Dane smoothed his hands over her legs and slipped his fingers between her thighs. He winked as he teased with slow caresses. “Who knows, maybe this will be an extra special treat no one else gets to have. They seem to work fine for this.” Stroking her legs and hips, he went back to ever so gently explore her body, both inside and out.

  Her eyes closed and her head lolled back with an open mouthed breath as she enjoyed his touch. “I believe you’re right.” Whispers echoed through a moan-filled sigh. “Ahhmm, they work as if you’re an expert.”

  “The best is yet to come…” Dane stood and held her hand against his chest as her chest raised with her raspy breaths. He dropped on the bed to lie beside her. “Be wild…do that crazy, girl.”

  “Yes, honey…” She slid her hand
down the front of his chest and lower to stroke him before he stopped her.

  “That feels so good, but wait,” he mumbled as he straddled her thighs. “It’s been too long without you. We’re both ready.” He lowered himself to his elbows over her. “Anything I should be aware of about making love while you’re pregnant? You’re my first pregnancy.” Dane’s lips trailed back to her ear where he whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too, so much. You’ve made love to a pregnant woman before either of us knew. I don’t think there’s anything you need to know. Make love to me like normal. I’m ready. I need you.” Gracelyn pulled his face down to kiss him, and she sighed against his mouth. For a minute he didn’t move, yet he trembled. She lifted her hips to encourage him. “It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping for air.

  Dane dragged his lips across her breasts, kissing them, only stopping long enough to subtly draw a budded nipple into his mouth. “Your skin is so hot.” He continued up to her throat and whispered into her ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s good…nothing hurts. You’re fabulous. I want all of you.” Gracelyn pressed her fingers into his back—on the verge of yelling out as he began slow rhythmic movements. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

  “You’re not dreaming…” Dane’s voice quavered as he spoke. “If so, we’re having the same lovely dream.”

  Nothing showed different than before, except his hard body not pressed tight, as if afraid of lying directly atop her.

  Dane lowered his head to kiss her, as his tongue played with hers in a satisfying rage, and he rolled to his back still holding her tight. His hands went to her breasts as she sat astride his thighs and their gaze held. As one, they floated away into bliss.

  She took his hand to her mouth to kiss his fingers. A long and drawn out sigh escaped through his lips at the first touch of hers. With self-assured fluid movements, he whispered her name, “Gracelyn…”

  In a beautiful climatic return, she spoke intimately, “I’m so in love with you.” They clung to each other until they both found their calm.

  She rolled to the side, and Dane slipped his arm behind her neck—bodies pressed tight against each other as they caught their breath. Gracelyn treasured the warmth of his body. She closed her eyes—savoring the moment of being passionately drained. “That was marvelous.” Her fingers glided over his abdomen, taking in the feel of each tight six-packed muscle.

  ***

  They had nearly fallen asleep, but twenty minutes later, he peered at the ceiling and folded his arm under his head. “I need a cigarette. You know what? I’ve had one since I left the Middle East. I smoked one on the way here. I suppose you could smell it.” Breaths came out even, steady as he drew figure eights over her arm.

  Never being a smoker, yet she understood his need to use it to calm himself. Could a cigarette really do that? Gracelyn brought the sheet up over their bodies and lifted herself to rest on an elbow. “Are you starting back smoking?”

  “I don’t have the answer yet.” With a shrug, he went on, “I’ve given up so much already. My giving up isn’t finished.” His eyes closed and he released a long sigh.

  “Don’t do it all at once then. But, don’t smoke around the baby.”

  He jerked his head toward her. “What the hell do you think I am? I have nieces and a nephew. I’ve never smoked around them, or in the house.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Why did she have to blurt that out without thinking? He’s so touchy.

  “No matter. I know how to behave, Gracelyn, I’m not an animal.” He grinned and tiptoed his fingers over her arm. “Except in bed with you.” At that moment, Dane’s phone vibrated. “I don’t want to get up.” He answered anyway. Then he sat on the edge of the bed to talk. When the call ended, he leaned forward and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have to get out of here soon.”

  What’s he mean, and what’s up with the attitude? The man has seen atrocities. The attitude was to be expected. “Dane, what are you talking about? Why do you have to go? It’s my day off.” Sounding whiny was something she hated. “I mean—”

  “Holy hell.” He stood to pull on his jeans. Dane grabbed his t-shirt but stood there holding it to his side. “I forgot to mention an important detail.” One hand raised to smooth down his hair.

  Her pulse raced. She sat up in bed while holding the sheet over the front of her, and wanted nothing more than for him to curl up with her again. “Come back here.”

  His lips pressed together and he didn’t speak, just stood there running his fingers through his hair—his gaze unfocused. “I don’t have a toothbrush.”

  “That’s the important detail?” she asked superficially. “I have an extra.” Gracelyn leaned over to set her earrings on the table while waiting for an answer.

  “Oh, damn.” He got back in bed beside her. Leaning on an elbow, his other arm went around her waist, and he gave a subtle shake of his head. “No. My dog is at the base in Phoenix. A Military Working Dog I’m taking care of until his handler can. The dog has PTSD. The Army pulled him from duty. It’s true, dogs get that, too.”

  Her eyes widened. “A war dog? Aren’t they trained to be mean? Kill?” What is he thinking?

  “They’re highly intelligent animals. This dog saved his handler’s and my life. Now, he’s suffering.” Dane sat up. “I’m indebted to him and his handler.”

  “But around the baby?” This frightened her. An infant? War dog? Holy hell. Seems she picked up his famous phrase not even realizing until it crossed her mind.

  “We’ll find out. He’s timid—frightened right now. No one knows if he’ll be retired. Corporal Hanson might be able to take him later anyway.” He got up again and pulled his t-shirt over his head. “Come with me to visit him at the base today. We’ll get all the details.” Dane pulled his other shirt on and attempted to button it. “I have to remember not to wear buttoned shirts.” He clutched his head between his hands. “This all freaking sucks.”

  Gracelyn pulled the sheet off the bed, taking a second to tuck the edge around her. While she buttoned his shirt, she calmly said, “We’ll work around the buttons.” She laid her palms against his chest when finished. “Let me get ready and I’ll go with you. I’m curious, but it sounds like another decision we have to make if the dog is vicious.”

  “I’m sick of the decisions that aren’t mine to make.” Dropping to the chair in her room, he stroked his forehead as he spoke. “Of course, you’re right.” He got up to leave the room but came right back. “I want you to meet my mom. Maybe she can meet us in town today for breakfast. Wait, I have her car.” His eyes narrowed. “And I want information about the guy who comes in the restaurant.”

  She’d have to give the information or he’d think she hid something. Dane would need some adjustment time. She put her arms around his waist. “Let me do one thing at a time. Please, don’t rush me about all this. I admit I’m a little nervous about meeting your family. Now…a dangerous animal.”

  “I’m a dangerous animal.” After a short hesitation, he said in a low pitched voice, “Let me run home to change. I’ll grab one of my brother’s trucks then I’ll come back for you.” Dane rubbed his temple before boring his gaze into hers. “But wait. The guy? What the hell’s his name?”

  “He’s never come around in the daytime.” All she wanted to do was calm the situation. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask for hours during the day shift if it bothers you that much. It’s ridiculous though.” Before the sheet fell away from her, she clenched the front.

  “What’s his name?” An unfamiliar darkening appeared in his eyes. “Someone needs to know his name.”

  She pulled her nightshirt over her head. The need for a drink of water took her away from his scrutiny. Once in the kitchen, she got a glass and leaned against the counter. Maybe his invitations would stop now that Dane was home, because she didn’t want to tell him. Smith saw firsthand that the father of her baby existed. What would Dane do if she told him? This room couldn’
t be her harbor forever so she returned to Dane in the living room now.

  Piercing her with a hard stare, he reiterated, “What’s his name?”

  “What will you do? Now that he sees you’re home, maybe he’ll stay away.” The frown told her he did suspect her of holding back details, but he also showed more concern than anger. No matter what, she’d tell him even if she didn’t want to, because they couldn’t start out with secrets or animosity. “His name is Smith Jamison. I don’t know anything about him or where he works. Nothing more than he comes into the restaurant and orders French wine.” She glanced past him. “Don’t do anything to him, please.”

  His gaze flicked away momentarily. “I’m not doing anything, but don’t you think it’s important that someone else knows his name? Please don’t keep anything from me about this.”

  “I promise there is nothing to tell you about him. He comes into work—says he’s attracted to me, and that’s when he begs me to meet him for dinner.” Gracelyn shook her head erratically. “I never did, not once. Dammit, believe me or not.” She grabbed her head with both hands. “You’re not a jealous lunatic are you?”

  “Hell no. Concerned lunatic is more like it.” His tone softened. “If I am jealous, I didn’t know I was. Why wouldn’t I be concerned? The guy followed you home. He calls you. You hang up, obvious you don’t want to talk to him, yet he continues to ring your phone—”

  “All right.” Then her phone vibrated. Awful timing. She held her breath as she took it from the table and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw who it was. Gulping, she spat out, “It’s my dad.” She held the phone up to show him but he waved it away.

  “I’ll wait outside.” He grabbed his boots and sat to put them on. “We’ll talk before I leave.”