Cutter Mountain Rendezvous

by Barbara Weitz

  “Now what?”

  “Boots first or the jeans go nowhere,” he chuckled when she growled in frustration.

  They sat on the mattress while he removed his boots. Jeans and briefs soon followed. He rolled to his back and stilled with barely a protest when she straddled him and lowered herself over his pulsing heat. So much for the foreplay he hoped to impress her with and had taken years to perfect. Next time. He placed his hands on her hips to help guide her one slick inch at a time until her cool buttocks sat tight against his groin. “Nice.”

  “Guess you aren’t so big after all.”

  “My ego.”

  “I know.”

  He ran his hands over her curves and knew this was important. That she’d call the shots. Unable to keep his hands and mouth from the creamy white mounds before him, she responded with a murmur. Nips and slow kissing brought erratic breathing.

  He closed his eyes to think of anything but Kate impaled and squirming. The hard dick that never failed him teetered on the brink of deflation nestled there deep in the warmth of her cradle. He needed to get her into a different position or talk or something or he wasn’t going to last. “So, why don’t you like baseball?”

  “What?” Kate splayed her hands over his chest and the dusting of golden hair. Muscles contracted beneath her fingertips. His nipples pebbled under the tease of her caress. Even in the poorly lit room, she could see color high on his cheeks. His eyes were dark and serious. Having adjusted to the thick feel of him, she swayed her hips in a gentle rocking motion. “I’ll give you one thing, cowboy. You’ve got...” Her mind went blank.

  “Patience? It’s my specialty. I would have said stamina but didn’t want you thinking I’ve a big ego.” She laughed. “Back to baseball.” He pushed her into a sitting position.

  Kate liked this. They were face-to-face. Slow, sensual kisses matched the equally erotic rocking of their bodies. “It’s too slow,” she said dreamily. Was baseball sex talk to Colton? How could he think? The sensations were too alluring to talk about anything, let alone baseball. She began to quiver. He stilled her motion with his hands.

  “Look over my shoulder,” he said. His voice was hoarse and low. “What do you see?” Kate couldn’t focus on anything but the want of her body. The way he filled her. Her toes curled as she tried to squirm against him to no avail. He was too strong. He allowed her one stroke. Her head lolled. “What do you see?”

  “My guitar,” she managed. Her eyes were closed but she knew what he wanted her to see. She felt drunk. His strength and masculine smell had taken over her senses.

  “Wrong answer. My guitar. Yours for the asking. How do we ask?”

  She opened her eyes to gaze into pools of deep desire and cupped her hands around his face. They held the gaze as she pressed her lips to his. They were full and warm. She ran the tip of her tongue across the crease of his lips, like he had done to her, and a sound rattled deep in his chest.

  “You’re killing me here, Kate. Ask nice. Please.”

  “Please, Colton. Please can I have the guitar? Can I have you? Oh...” He released his grip and let her slide against him. Pleasure ran up her legs. Her arms. He filled her everywhere. With his kiss. His tongue. His heat. Her muscles clenched around him. She was lost in the wonder of each delicious wave, willing them to last forever, and disappointed when they subsided. She clung to him in an embrace. He was still hard?

  He rolled her to her back. She wrapped her legs around him and savored the deep penetrating thrusts. The low growl when he came and stilled for a second. Two more thrusts and he collapsed at her side. Puffs of erratic breath were the only sounds in the room, their bodies slick with sweat.

  Kate wanted to hum a tune rolling around her brain. She suppressed it. Colton was unusually quiet so she rose up on an elbow to see if he had fallen asleep.

  His sated gaze penetrated her soul. He was very awake. His hand ran along her hip. “Your body is beautiful.”

  Kate felt a blush race across her cheeks and kissed the scar on his shoulder. Another kiss was placed on his lips. It was the only way she could respond to words she had never heard. You’re body is beautiful. She smiled. “You hungry? I’m starved.”

  “You’re starved because you didn’t eat anything tonight.”

  “Care to share my sandwich?”

  “No. I want to shower and make love again.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really. Damn that was nice.”

  “How about we head over to my place? You can shower, and I’ll eat my sandwich. Then I’ll shower.”

  “Deal.”

  They gathered their things off the floor. Kate wrapped a sheet around her bare body while Colton pulled on his jeans and retrieved something from a drawer in his bathroom. Barefoot, they padded across the empty foyer. Colton went upstairs to the shower.

  Kate stood at the sink with a tight grip on her sheet, eating half a cold sandwich. Tinkerbelle curled her bare ankles. “He’s more than I expected,” she told the purring cat. “Don’t tell him, but Trey couldn’t last five minutes. I hardly ever came. I kept expecting him to explode. Nope. He just hung on. I didn’t mean to tease him. I couldn’t think.”

  She hauled in a deep, contented breath. There in the comfortable surround of her kitchen she stood eating and staring into the dark yard. Her body hummed in harmony with the world. The shower stopped and her pulse fluttered.

  “Our secret, Tinkerbelle. You know what an ego he has.” She reached down to place a loving stroke over the cat’s spine, his body contouring under her hand. He followed her up the stairs and disappeared into Lindsay room. She smiled, knowing Tinkerbelle would head for the box of stuffed animals he loved to squeeze into and sleep when Lindsay wasn’t around.

  She met Colton in the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Desire made a quick rebound.

  “A sheet becomes you,” he said with a dimpled smile. “Can you make that shower quick?”

  “Most definitely.”

  Colton stripped the towel from his waist and hung it over the towel rack. Kate’s gaze dropped. He didn’t seem to mind. She figured years of walking around au natural in a locker room made him immune to nudity. He used his finger to close her slack mouth. “Shower,” he said as a reminder and scooped several condoms off the bathroom counter.

  She admired his perfect buttocks as he strode from the room. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  He laughed and waved the condoms in the air. “No rush. We’ve got all night.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fog crept over Colton’s headlights as thick and sure as the guilt pricking his conscious. He tried to relax into the comfort of the new truck’s leather seats. Here was a perk his money could buy that was a definite plus over Bessie’s rock hard bench seats.

  He fiddled around looking for a non-country radio station and turned up the volume to an oldies rock station to tap his thumbs against the steering. Squinting ahead through what his dad would call pea soup, he glanced in the rearview mirror—more pea soup.

  Should he turn back? Retrieve the note he left? No. That would make matters worse. Better to stay on course and leave behind what happened between them severed.

  Damn. He wished he had a pack of cigarettes. His gaze darted to the glove compartment. One hand on the wheel, he retrieved the Trace Patton CD that featured Kate’s drinking man’s song, “Kentucky Blue.”

  Finally out of the mountains and fog, straight road lit by bright streetlights pointed the way to Chicago. Trace Patton’s voice filled the truck cab. An icon, Merle Haggard, came to mind as Trace crooned with a bluesy edge.

  “Kentucky blue

  Home sweet-eet home

  And I threw it away chasing women and booze...”

  “How the hell you come up with those lyrics, Kate?” He slid a glance toward the empty passenger seat and imagined Kate giving him a smart retort. Man, he wished he could ask her.

  “Bartender, who is that shell of a man,

  Staring stra
ight, back at me, in that mirror,

  Bartender set up a shot and a beer,

  Run a tab, shoot the breeze, can’t you see,

  He’s lookin’ Kentucky Blue...to me...to me”

  Colton’s mind wandered as Trace’s Sinners CD spun out tales of woe, better days and an ode to sinners. Sowing wild oats certainly hadn’t passed him by. Sinning he considered downright fun, until last night. The unexpected euphoria and contentment went far beyond his typical conquests. Last night was special. Different. Dangerous to his plan to stay single as long as possible.

  Large green interstate signs appeared. As green as the ink in the pen he used to write Kate the note. He’d done the right thing, he was sure. There had been enough hurt in Kate’s life.

  He pulled off the road and let the truck idle before he made what might be a bigger mistake than taking a joyride on a dirt bike. He could go back right now, tear up the note, and make love to her until they were so sore and sated it would be a day they would never forget. One they could laugh about as they grew old together and rocked on the front porch. Drinking iced tea, shooting the breeze about the kids...Whoa!

  Colton put the truck in gear. Any further thoughts he might love Kate enough to marry and start a family were pushed away. He had a career to get back on track. The battered straw cowboy hat was taken from the dashboard and settled on his head.

  “Hell.” Kids? There was a fastball to the gut.

  Black pavement hummed beneath his Michelins and thoughts of baseball pushed away memories of Kate’s sexy, small body nestled tight against him. Would he ever forget her hair, smelling of field flowers?

  He shook his head. He needed coffee. The life he was born to live waited in Chicago. Back to the life of celebrity he so enjoyed as the Bullets’ star pitcher. He would make a comeback if it killed him. Was that such a big sin? Everyone knew he wasn’t a man who could make a lasting commitment to a woman. Maybe Sasha was exactly the kind of woman that suited him best. No strings attached.

  ****

  Showered and dressed, Kate sat at the kitchen table staring at the bold green writing in disbelief. She would cry if she weren’t so angry. It was tempting to tear it up along with the outrageous check for $5,000.

  “Great night.” The words seethed between clenched teeth. “Thanks. Good luck with the inn. Hope this covers my stay as well as anything else you might need. C.”

  She threw the note on the table and shouted. “COWARD! That’s what C stands for, you insensitive clod. How could I have ever thought you different than any other man with money?”

  The check and note were snatched up again. She wanted to shred them into a million pieces. A small tear made her stop. No. She would save them so she could toss them in Colton’s face when he returned for Bessie. If he returned, she reminded herself. His plan to send a flatbed truck hardly meant he would personally retrieve his precious truck. Yes, well, Bessie was precious to her as well. She didn’t want the truck going anywhere. Her own fond memories were attached to Bessie.

  Maybe she should fly into Chicago and deliver them in person. That would make a statement. She made another slow rip halfway through the check and note. Unable to finish the job, she tossed them on the table. Tears pooled and spilled down her cheeks. “How dare you sneak away at dawn and leave me naked in bed like a two-bit hussy? I hate you. C.”

  THUMP. Her fist hit the table with enough force to jangle the spoon on her saucer.

  The chair she sat on rocked when she sprang from it to retrieve another note from Colton: one written as a peace offering when he had given her the guitar. That note was tossed into a cookbook. That is, after she fished it out of the garbage.

  Kate slipped the cookbook from its rack and added the half torn check with its tactless note. She slammed it shut. No need to read the other note. She would just store them up and when Colton was at the height of his comeback, she would pull them out and frame them. Hang them in the room where he once slept and made patient sensual love to her. There was a fortune to be made in renting out the room where the famous Col-Train railroaded her into his bed then left like a hobo in the night to hop the next boxcar north.

  Tears flowed in earnest. No. She wouldn’t do any of those things. She had gone to bed with him as an adult, knowing it was a fling. Instead, she would take Taylor Swift’s lead and write a song. One that left no doubt it was about a ballplayer nicknamed Col-Train.

  Gawd! She needed to get out of the house. Go into town and meet her mom at Beulah’s for a cup of coffee. Call Lindsay in California and tell her she loved her.

  Racing through the house to grab her things, she vowed not to look into Colton’s empty room littered with the sheets, quilt, and rollaway mattress pulled to the floor. She did, of course. What a shock to see he put the mattress on its springs along with the folded sheets and quilt.

  She didn’t know if she was more upset with herself or Colton. On the bright side, she wasn’t as worried about meeting Bennett Field at his lawyer’s office in Knoxville. After today, it would be a walk in the park.

  ****

  “There’s a young woman over there asking Colton’s whereabouts.” Beulah set steaming coffee in front of Kate and rested an arm on the counter that accommodated twenty customers on stools.

  Kate glanced toward a booth that overlooked Bear Creek’s only main street. Even sitting, the brunette looked shapely and slender. Was she an ex-girlfriend? Her outfit of jeans, white turtleneck, and lightweight red jacket didn’t look any more remarkable than Kate’s jeans and pale-yellow shirt.

  Beulah leaned in. “I told her there has been no Colton Gray in our town.”

  Kate fixed her questioning eyes on Beulah. “Why? He is here. Or was. He left for Chicago this morning.” Heat began to creep up under her collar.

  Beulah reached in her pocket and silently pushed a business card over the counter to Kate, her gaze fixed on the brunette.

  “A reporter from Chicago Wham Sports? Took them long enough to find him.”

  “Maybe you should go talk to her since he’s left and all.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because he was at your place. It could get you just the publicity you need to interest folks into booking at your inn. Wouldn’t hurt to let her know my kitchen’s the best home cooking in the state.”

  “You already feed the whole surrounding area of Bear Creek. Now you want folks coming in droves from Chicago?” Kate grabbed another sneak peek at the brunette talking on her cell phone and jabbing one finger at her computer keys. She seemed oblivious to the curiosity she was causing in the cafe.

  Beulah pushed the card closer to Kate. “Go. See what she really wants.”

  Kate took a deep breath. “Sure. Why not? Pour Mom a cup of coffee when she gets here.” She swiveled off the stool.

  A hush fell over the cafe as the locals watched Kate make her way to the brunette’s booth. She slid across the dark-green vinyl seat and leaned her arms on the table.

  The young woman didn’t flinch as she stared at Kate across the top of her laptop. “I’ll get back to you, Harry.” She snapped her cell shut. “May I help you?” She raised a perfectly tweezed dark eyebrow as she set the phone on top of the quickly closed laptop.

  Kate shot her a smile she knew was anything but friendly. “No. May I help you? Beulah says you’ve been asking about Colton Gray. That you’re a sports reporter.”

  The brunette straightened with a catlike smile and narrowed her eyes. “I knew it. He’s here, isn’t he?” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Allison Brant from Wham Sports in Chicago.”

  “Kate Crockett.” The firm handshake was returned. “Colton left for Chicago several hours ago.”

  Both Allison Brant’s hand and smug smile wilted. “Why, that rat fink brother of his. First he sends me to Wyoming, saying his brother went there to think things through. I spent days chasing that detour.” She made a small sigh. “Then he teams up with his mother on this dead-end.” She drummed her fingers on the table. No fancy ma
nicure, Kate noticed. Neat, filed nails. No rings or jewelry except a watch face the size of a silver dollar.

  “I imagine the rat fink would be Colton’s brother, Mason? I hear he’s protective of Colton. One’s as bad as the other, if you ask me. Colton accuses his brother of doing the very things he does himself. Meddles into everyone’s business in the name of lending a hand, but I think they’re really protectors and can’t help themselves.”

  Miss Wham Sports’ jaw dropped. “You seem to know him well. Is that why he came here? To hide out with a girlfriend? Although I can’t say I recognize you, and I’ve followed his career from Arizona to Atlanta to Chicago.” Allison’s eyes turned speculative. “Besides, you look like a teenager. He definitely doesn’t date fresh-faced kids.”

  Kate felt her jaw tighten. “I’m an adult, Miss Brant. Not a teenager. His truck broke down near our town. I rented him a room in my inn. Well, it will be an inn. It’s not quite finished.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. You seem like a nice enough kid…er, woman.”

  “You’ve made me curious. What type of women does Colton Gray date?”

  Allison shrugged. “If I say cheerleader, does that help?”

  “Sorta.” Since Allison was definitely not the cheerleader type, Kate ruled her out as a stringer on Colton’s female pursuit team. There was vulnerability about Allison that put Kate at ease. “Is it typical for a Chicago sports reporter to follow a player’s career to Arizona and Atlanta?”

  Allison laughed. “Who’s the reporter here? I went to the University of Illinois with them. I was in his brother’s graduating class. Not that Mason ever noticed me. Colton was one of the campus heartthrobs and making a name for himself on the pitcher’s mound there. It seemed natural to be interested in what happened to him.”

  “Because you liked him?”

  “No. Mason. But that’s ancient history. How long was Colton here?”

  “He hung out at my place for a few weeks, doing workouts. I don’t really know him. He rented a room, and I minded my own business. Washed his sheets and gave him a few meals while he rehabbed.” She shrugged, keeping in mind Allison was a reporter. “The usual. Now he’s gone back to the Bullets.”