by Alison Kent
“No place is perfect.”
She smiled. “True. And I wouldn’t live anywhere else.” For now. That thought surprised her. “Part of it’s my job. Especially after a twelve-hour day, when I have to schmooze the catering manager into one more round of appetizers, conjure a smile for the client from hell who’s underpaying me, or cough up a joke before two business partners launch a fist fight with each other.”
“Sounds like an ordeal.”
“Does it? I guess it is. And, sometimes I feel…” She paused, not willing to say lonely. Too weak. In the city, you kept your cards close and your deodorant fresh. One drop of blood in the water and you were sashimi on an enamel plate.
Lately, since the breakup, she’d felt kind of alone. Even with Stefan, really, but she’d stayed too busy to notice.
“Overwhelmed,” she finished. She’d love to ask Deck if he ever felt lonely, but they were too tentative with each other. “Your mom’s doing okay?” she asked instead.
“She’s happy. Harvey’s a good guy and she likes Modesto.”
“Do you miss the Lazy J?”
“Sometimes. Pop would never have sold. I’m sure he’d have hated that I was leasing the place. I had to hand off when I finally went for my degree.”
“In what? Agribusiness?”
He laughed. “No. I got a BA in humanities. That and three-fifty will get you a venti at Starbucks. And, yes, I’ve been to Starbucks, Callie.”
“I didn’t say a word.” At least they were joking. “Your dad wouldn’t have wanted you to be strapped to the ranch forever. He’d want you to be happy.”
“It wasn’t a burden.” He shrugged.
“You sacrificed so much for your mom, staying with her so long. Meanwhile, I left my dad all alone.”
“You’re out here a lot. You call all the time.”
“Yeah, but I never know what’s really going on. I think Dad puts on a happy face for me.”
“That’s probably true. You used to do that for him, too. You were a one-girl show. Housekeeper, therapist, entertainer.”
“I just did what had to be done.”
“Maybe Cal should have looked out for you more.”
“Cheering him up cheered me, too.” Look happy and you’ll be happy. That was what she tried with everyone but Deck. With him, the mask fell away. It was falling away right now.
“It’s hard for me to be here,” she said. “It’s like I get ambushed. I miss my mother so bad I feel sick. It’s ridiculous. Eleven years have passed. What’s my problem?”
“You left so soon after she died. Maybe that’s why.”
“I think losing our parents so young changed the course of our lives. I escaped to New York and you got trapped at the Lazy J.”
“That’s pretty dramatic. You were going to New York anyway. And I told you I liked working the ranch.”
“Still…”
“Hey, hey. No regrets, remember? Live life with relish…” He paused for her to finish the old joke.
“And mustard?”
They laughed, looking into each other’s eyes, sharing the warm memory. She felt close to him again.
“I think hard times make us stronger, Callie.”
“I don’t know about that. I was a mess.” Every day had been a fight to stay at the surface, a desperate dogpaddle or she’d drop to the bottom like a stone. “If it hadn’t been for you…” Deck had held her up. Deck and his warm arms and good heart.
“We were both in the same foxhole.”
“Not exactly the same.” The deeper pain rose like the hot steam around her. “You didn’t cause your dad’s death.” She swallowed, struggling with emotion. She usually danced away from this idea.
“Your mother fell asleep driving. You weren’t in the car.”
“It was for my party. She drove all the way to Phoenix to get the stuff. If I’d settled for pizza at Dino’s, she’d be alive today.” She swallowed and blinked, embarrassed.
“Hey…” Deck moved to hug her, keeping the embrace high on their bodies. “I hate to see you in pain.”
“I know.” He had always been there for her. His skin against hers felt so right. She rested her cheek on his chest. It felt so good, as calming as back then.
Just like that, the moment changed. The comfort hug turned into something else, something more intense. Callie became aware of a hitch in Deck’s breathing and her own. His arms around her were strong and sure, his fingers dug in.
She should push back. He should back off. Neither of them moved. She became aware of a tight ache between her legs.
They were inches apart. All either of them had to do was shift slightly forward and they’d be body to body, thigh to thigh, her breasts against his chest, her belly against his erection. It would feel so good. Like before, but new, too.
She ached to move closer.
“I remember how we were,” Deck said, his voice rough.
They had to stop. This was dangerous.
“Me, too.” She began to tremble. She wanted him so badly. She wanted to see how they would be together—without the grief and the frantic desperation. She’d been a girl, inexperienced in sex. Now she was a woman and knew exactly what to do and what she wanted. “I’d never felt like that before.”
Or since, for that matter. Deck hadn’t been her first, but sex with Taylor had been awkward and fast and all about him. Deck and she had moved together like two halves of a whole.
“We were young,” Deck said, shifting infinitesimally closer. His chest grazed her breasts.
The ache between her legs felt like an injury. She wanted to lunge at him.
“Sex was new.” Deck’s eyes burned at her.
“Does sex ever get old?” Never with Deck. She couldn’t imagine that happening. “It was more than that.” She had to say it. She’d loved his seriousness, his self-confidence. He’d seemed free and brave and adult.
“Yeah,” he said. “It was more.” They were in trouble now, lost in the past, in their soft words, their naked nearness. “Lots more.” With a decisive move, he pulled her against him, let her feel his hardness, took her backside in both his hands.
What are we doing? She couldn’t say the words. She could only melt against him, weak with relief.
Deck’s mouth found hers, his lips warm and giving, his tongue pressing gently, wanting in. She opened to him, welcomed his tongue, the slow slide of his lips on hers. The kiss was like water after a desperate thirst. She couldn’t get enough. She wrapped her arms around him, dug in with her fingers, pushed her own tongue into his mouth, tasting him again, remembering, but discovering, too. They’d been kids.
How had this happened?
It was the champagne, the moonlight, the hot springs and the memories. It was the way he smelled of cedar and sunshine. It was all that they’d meant to each other. And maybe more.
5
DECK WAS FOGGY on exactly how he’d ended up with Callie in his arms, her sweet tongue in hot pursuit of his own, but he wasn’t one bit sorry.
He’d started it, he knew that. He’d meant to comfort her, but the past had come rushing back and they were so close and so naked in the water that he couldn’t stop himself.
He gripped her backside with both hands. She moaned and trembled, wrapping her legs around his waist, locking on with her heels, as if for dear life.
He felt the hot drive to be inside her, making her come, coming himself, and fought to slow down, to manage this rush of need. He felt like a starving man dropped into a banquet.
Callie pulled back and looked at him, panting, her gaze flying across his face. “What are we doing?” She sounded scared.
“Acting crazy,” he said, taking her mouth again.
She pulled away and looked at him, her eyes dazed. “Completely crazy.” She blinked and shook her head, clearly fighting for control. “This would get complicated. We have to work together. Sex can make things weird. Plus…birth control…”
“True.” What was wrong with him? He
hadn’t even paused to consider a condom. She was so beautiful, her eyes glittering, wanting him, her lips puffy from his assault. He wanted her so bad. He groaned. He couldn’t help it.
“Don’t do that,” she said, as if begging for mercy. “I’m on the pill, though. And if you’re healthy…?”
“I am. Completely. Very, very healthy.”
She stared at him. “No. It’s a bad idea.” She shook her head, then looked at him, clearly wanting him to disagree.
“Very bad.” Callie meant too much to him to act out of blind lust. Already, long-dormant feelings stirred within him. They could stop now, no harm done.
Then Callie darted in for a kiss, as if for a last taste of the forbidden. Her tongue pushed in, sampled him. She held his face in both hands while she explored him with her mouth. “But you taste so good.” She moaned, rubbing against him. “You feel so good. I just—” She kissed him again, her whole body trembling, her hips rocking in response to a primal need she seemed powerless to oppose.
He had to touch her, so he braced her bottom with one hand and slid his other between her legs to stroke her where she was swollen with need.
“Oh, oh, oooh.” She jolted as if electrified. “Deck, if you keep on…if you do more…” She pushed against his fingers, which slid the length of her, making her quiver violently. “You just…oh, you can’t…oh…”
He lowered his mouth to take her nipple between his lips. His cock ached to be inside her. His fingers kept pace with her hip movements.
She pushed a palm against his chest. “Wait,” she said, panting for air.
He released her nipple, stopped his fingers. “You want to stop?”
“We should. You know we should.” She paused. “But I don’t want to.” She went for his mouth again. That’s my girl.
“What about you?” she managed to say. “Do you want to stop?”
With her body against him, ripe with arousal, her breathing ragged, her eyes begging for more, he had no choice. “Not on your life,” he said. He wanted to plunge into her and stroke them both into oblivion.
Somewhere in his half-gone brain he knew he was a fool, but at the moment he didn’t care at all.
“Why are we doing this?” she said, her fingers around his shaft, moving up and down, killing him, making lust surge through him as unstoppable as the blood in his veins.
“For old times’ sake,” he offered, stroking her again.
“That’s good. For old times.” She could hardly talk. “Get…inside…me.” She spread her legs, guided him to the place and he thrust upward, going deep, making her cry out.
“Oh. Yes, that is it.” She threw back her head, then brought it forward on the last word.
“You feel so good,” he said, pulling out, then pushing in. Her inner muscles squeezed him, urging him onward. He fought for a steady rhythm. He found her mouth and drank in her desperate breaths, drawing mews and sighs of pleasure from her. He cupped one breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers until she squealed in sweet agony.
His body was alive with the need for her. He would never get enough. The water steamed around them, splashing with their movements. Her ankles locked at his waist, she rocked faster, fighting for her climax. She used to panic like this, rub them both raw, as she raced for the finish line she feared she’d never reach.
“Slow a little,” he whispered, gripping her hips, forcing her to stop. “Remember? Let it build.”
She stilled and looked at him, dazed, struggling to make sense of his words.
He had to smile. “You’ll get there,” he said in her ear. “I know you.” He shifted so he could push the base of his shaft against her clit.
“Oh, yeah.” She shivered and a slow smile spread across her face. “I will. I definitely will.”
She began to move, slower this time, squeezing his cock with her inner muscles, wiggling side to side, kissing him, sucking at his tongue, pushing her hips against his, making him suffer and fight not to explode too soon.
He groaned, then thrust hard, deep inside her, gratified by her gasp, by the flare of pleasure in her eyes.
They sped now, both of them, moving together, lifting higher, tighter, closer and closer. He tracked her reactions, her gasps, the rhythm of her hips, the way she held him with her body. He fought to stay with her, to not be too soon, to not interfere with the delicate trigger of her release. She began to breathe the way she did before she shot off.
“That’s it,” he said. “I can feel you.”
“Oh…oh…oh…” she said, as if the roller coaster had just topped the rise and she was about to plunge into the joy of the speeding descent. “I’m coming,” she cried out, going rigid, straining every muscle.
He came, too, nearly blacking out with the force of it, holding her body, keeping her head safe from the rock, losing himself in her sounds, her body, the way she clung to him, the rush and wonder of this most basic human act.
After their bodies stilled, they breathed into the night, holding each other, looking over each other’s shoulders.
The world came back to Deck with a jolt.
He swore she’d been struck the same way. She went completely still, then leaned back to look at him. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I’m great.” She hugged him, but it was a get-me-out-of-here embrace. She was embarrassed, he could tell. She backed toward the opposite side of the springs. “I should get back. It’s so late.” She gave a hesitant smile, then pushed herself up and out of the water.
He lifted a towel so she wouldn’t be chilled in the cool air, but he stayed in the spring. “There’s room.” He nodded at his bedroll. What? Did he think they’d sleep under the stars?
“Thanks, but I need solid sleep tonight.”
“Bedroll’s thick. You won’t feel the rocks.”
“That’s not what will keep me awake and you know it.”
“Good point.” Why was he dragging this out? “Shall I walk you back?”
“No, no. I’m a big girl. Just relax and enjoy.” She tied on her robe, wrapped her hair in the other towel, grabbed the ice bucket, the nearly empty bottle of champagne, then the glass, which slipped from her nervous fingers.
He caught it midair. “Don’t think this to death, Callie.”
“I won’t. Don’t you, either. Don’t think. Whatever.” She flapped off in her flimsy rubber shoes. A few yards away, she turned back, shot him a smile, then soldiered on. Her stiff half run told him she was already sorry about what they’d done.
He should be sorry, too, but he wasn’t. Having her in his arms felt right. He wanted more. Now that he was sorry about.
CALLIE WOKE smelling metal and dirt. It was her hair, which had picked up the mineral scent of the springs. It all came back to her in a rush. She’d had sex with Deck. The kind of sex where you couldn’t wait for more.
For old times’ sake? Come on. Who were they kidding? The only consolation was that Deck had had no more self-control than she’d had.
They would just have to act normal today. The whole incident had seemed like a dream anyway. Deck was a practical guy. He’d probably already tucked it away in his mind. Done and done.
The sex wouldn’t quite leave her, though. The shower made it worse, hot water pouring down her body like Deck’s wet hands.
To distract herself, she tried Dahlia’s shampoo and conditioner. They smelled of herbs and citrus. The shampoo had a nice lather, the conditioner was creamy. Once she’d dried off, she tried the lotion, which went on smoothly with a lingering moisture that wasn’t greasy. Dahlia’s products were definitely worth considering for the spa. That was a relief.
She dressed quickly and set off for her busy day. The most important thing was meeting with the first contractor this afternoon. After the second bid tomorrow, she hoped to sign with one or the other.
Intending to go over her plans with her father, she checked his room. He was already up and gone. Maybe doing the early
trail ride with Dahlia. Callie skimmed downstairs, then slipped to the breakfast buffet to grab something. Several guests were putting away their plates, no doubt heading for the ride.
Cooky, the long-time cook, waved at her as she passed the kitchen. He made decent ranch fare and his baked goods were heaven. This morning the buffet held lard-fried eggs, flapjacks with fresh preserves, sausage patties, thick bacon, cornbread and caramel-cinnamon rolls as big as a child’s head, one of Cooky’s specialties.
For the resort, she would have to hire a fine chef and offer gourmet fare with Western options. That was the trend. She’d bet that Cooky, who was well past retirement age, wouldn’t leave the kitchen until they pried the spatula from his cold, dead fingers. She sighed. That would be a tough conversation.
She caught Rosita on her way to dust and air the casitas and told her she’d catch up with her to do an inventory on needed improvements. Rosita would have year-round staff to manage, which meant a raise Callie hoped would entice her to stay.
In a hurry now, Callie wrapped a caramel-cinnamon roll in a napkin, grabbed a mug of coffee and set off to meet Rosita.
In the corral, she saw the riders were climbing onto their horses. There was Deck. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. Calm down, she told herself. It’s just another morning on the ranch. Still, she went over to speak to him.
He was squatting beside a small blond girl next to a horse. A man and a woman looked on from their own mounts. Her parents, she was certain. The little girl was obviously scared.
Deck patted the horse. “Daisy loves to give rides to little girls,” he said.
“She does?” The girl looked up at the horse, which must look monstrous to her, then back to Deck.
“Here’s how nice Daisy is. See that fly.” He pointed at an insect on Daisy’s flank. “Daisy’s so gentle she lets that fly go for a ride, instead of flicking it off with her tail like all the other horses do.”
The girl laughed.
“You just show her with your knees and the reins which way to go. Want to give her a try?”