by Joanna Bell
"Leprechauns?" She suggested sleepily.
"I don't think they eat leprechauns, goofball, but I could still eat a whole one either way. Anyway, come on. You should have a shower, that'll wake you up."
"Mmm, noo!" She protested. "I don't want to have a shower. I just want to sleep!"
"Well, you can sleep if you want," I told her, pulling my jeans on, "but that's only because I seem to have developed a condition whereby I am unable to say no to you."
That made her giggle. "Good. Wait – Jack, where are you going? Stay here with me."
I sat back down beside her on the bed so I could pull my socks on. "You want me to stay? I'll stay if that's what you want. But I'm hungry enough to eat a horse, Blaze, and this hotel has a restaurant attached. I was just going to go grab something to eat."
Blaze opened one eye. "A restaurant? What, like a good one?"
"I'm the wrong person to ask about whether or not a restaurant is good," I replied, brushing a lock of hair off her still-flushed cheek. "But I doubt a place like this has some crappy burger joint attached. The woman at the front desk said it serves traditional Irish food – and I'm kind of curious to see what that's like. Maybe they'll have that col – what was it? Col–?"
"Colcannon. Stop it, Jack, you're making me hungry now."
I couldn't help bending down to kiss her. "You know what, Blaze?"
"What?"
"Your cheeks get red when you come."
"What? No they don't. Jack, no they don't!"
"They do. They're still a little red right now. Maybe you just never noticed it before because no one ever made you come the way I do?" I teased.
She sat up, then, rubbing her eyes and looking at me. "You do, you know. No one ever has made me come the way you do. Ugh, so embarrassing."
Blaze was being serious, I could see it on her face. "Don't be embarrassed," I told her, failing to hide the grin on my face – the one that said my ego had just grown three sizes. "It's just, uh, maybe it's just –"
"Ha!" She laughed, taking her bra when I passed it to her and starting to get dressed. "Look at you, Jack, sitting there glowing with pride. Well I guess it's your right, because as big as this is going to make your head, it's actually true. It's always been difficult for me to have an orgasm with a man, actually. I don't know, I guess I never really thought about it much – it made me feel like something might be wrong with me."
"Nothing is wrong with you," I said. "Believe me, Blaze Wilson, there is not a single damned thing wrong with you."
"I'm being serious, Jack. This is hard for me to talk about."
"Oh I know," I whispered, pulling her onto my lap and kissing her neck, just below one of her delicate little seashell ears. "I know you are, babe. But hearing this does kind of make me want to strut around like a rooster with its chest all puffed out."
"Is that how roosters walk?"
I laughed at the random question. "Actually, yes. We used to have poultry at Sweetgrass Ranch when I was a kid – the rooster always strutted around like he owned the whole place. You're making me feel like that."
"Am I?"
Our eyes met. "Yeah," I replied honestly. "You are. You telling me that no man has ever made you come like that? You're lucky I don't rip off my shirt and run around the grounds of the hotel beating my chest like a gorilla. But I know, Blaze. I mean, I'm not a woman, so I suppose I don't know – but I understand that it's not always as easy for a woman. It doesn't mean anything is wrong with you."
"Well, not when you're around," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, then my mouth.
"What do you want?" I asked her. "You tell me what you want right now, right this minute, anything in the whole universe and I'll make it happen."
I wasn't joking or exaggerating. It was simply true that nothing in the world mattered as much as what Blaze Wilson wanted, and my conviction that whatever it was, I would be the one to give it to her. Thankfully she did not declare an abiding desire for me to scale Everest or bring her the heads of her enemies.
"Just you," she smiled. "Just you, Jack. Are you still hungry? Let's go check out that restaurant."
"And your wife?"
We were seated at a linen-covered table in a large, dark-wood paneled dining room, and the female server, an older woman, had just asked me what my 'wife' would be having to drink.
"I'll have a Guinness too," Blaze replied politely. "But I'm not his wife."
"Oh!" The server responded, flustered. "I just thought, uh, I thought you two were on your – oh, well, I'm very sorry about that. I'll be right back with your drinks."
When she was gone, Blaze made a face. "Wow. I must be getting old."
I shook my head, chuckling. "I – uh, I don't think that's what she was getting at, Blaze."
"Don't you? God, a wife. Next thing you know people are going to start calling me ma'am."
"You're wrong," I told her. "This has nothing to do with age. She just noticed something between us. I mean, we did just spend the last hour making love. You think people don't pick up on that, when a couple seems especially close?"
"Well it never happened before you," she replied. "Not with my ex or anyone I dated."
"I just don't think this has anything to do with how old she thought you are," I said. "I really don't. You're 26, you don't look 'old.' Here, let's pick something to eat. I don't even know what half of these things are. Dublin Coddle? What's that? It sounds like some kind of PG-13 sex move."
Blaze laughed out loud. "Ha, it does, doesn't it? What about – ooh, corned beef and cabbage, even I've heard of that. Irish stew? This is the perfect time of year for stew."
In the end, Blaze went for the Irish stew and I ordered the Dublin Coddle, which turned out to be a kind of stew made with sausages, bacon, potatoes and onion. It was delicious. Everything we were served was delicious, right down to the traditional soda bread. Blaze commented that if we ate like that every day we'd have to spend all our time in the gym doing cardio just to burn off all the starch calories.
"Or work on a ranch," I commented. "I usually eat like this – I mean, not these things specifically but the diet was very meat-and-potato-heavy at Sweetgrass Ranch. Old Blackjack used to consume his weight in steak and potatoes on an almost nightly basis and he was always wiry as hell. Working all day burns a lot of calories."
We chattered on throughout the meal and two slow, drawn-out rounds of coffee, completely engrossed in each other, until night fell and we were the only people left in the dining room. When it came time to leave, the server suggested a walk in the grounds.
"It's lovely at this time of year," she told us. "Perfect for a walk after a meal like this."
"Sounds good," Blaze said. "Although I'm not sure I can walk after eating all that."
A thick fog swirled around us as we strolled hand in hand down the gravel paths that criss-crossed the neatly-maintained land surrounding the hotel. We were just coming to a small stand of oak trees that looked like something out of a Tolkien novel when Blaze stopped short suddenly and looked up at me. For some reason the look on her face triggered a memory of her in the pick-up truck back in Little Falls, that day the smell of pig manure had made her sick.
"Blaze?" I asked. "What is it?"
She waved her hand at me and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "Wait. Just a – whoa, just a sec, Jack."
"What?" I asked, starting to get genuinely concerned. "Do you feel dizzy? What's going on? Blaze!"
"OK," she said, a few seconds later, blowing air out of her mouth. "Ugh, I don't know what that was – I just felt like I was going to throw up all of a sudden. I think – yeah, I think I'm OK now. How about you? Do you feel OK?"
I nodded. "I'm fine. Maybe this is just jet-lag or something – do you want to go back to the room? Are you tired?"
She reached for my hand. "No. I actually feel totally normal now. Man, that was weird. But it's nice out here, isn't it? It feels so – I don't know, magical somehow. The fog and those huge tre
es, I feel like some kind of medieval princess."
So we kept going, but I kept a close eye on her even as she said she felt entirely fine after that short, strange episode. She wasn't wrong about the surroundings, though. It was December 22nd, three days before Christmas, and some of trees closer to the castle itself had been festooned with Christmas lights – or 'fairy lights' as I had heard a little kid in the lobby referring to them. It did feel magical, especially through the woodsmoke-tinged fog.
"This is so nice," Blaze said, cuddling close to me as we walked. "I'm so glad you invited me to come here with you, Jack. Really."
"Well there's no one I wanted to be with more than you," I replied plainly.
"When are you going to the bank? Tomorrow?"
I still hadn't quite figured out how to tell Blaze about the money. I knew I didn't want to tell her – or anyone, I wasn't even going to accept it myself – until I had the reassurance of a real person from the Bank of Ireland telling me to my face that yes, it was actually mine and no, there hadn't been some terrible mix-up. I also wasn't sure if I wanted her to come to the bank with me. Was that a good way for her to find out? I knew she was going to be happy, especially when I told her about the livestock, but I wanted it to be perfect.
"I don't know," I hedged, kicking at a tuft of grass on the edge of the path. "Maybe. I'll call them and see what branch I need to go to, see if I have to make an appointment, that kind of thing."
Blaze looked up at me curiously. "Really?" She asked. "Aren't you dying to get your hands on it? And when are you going to tell me how much it is?"
"When I know for sure," I replied. "But don't you go letting your imagination run away with you or anything like that."
"I'm not," she replied. "It's not my money. All I care about is you, Jack. I know it's too much to hope for but I still – I guess I just haven't accepted that Sweetgrass Ranch isn't yours anymore. Which is really stupid, because you seem to have accepted it."
I nodded, not wanting to say anything concrete, or give her any hints. When I bent to kiss her cheek her skin was cool against my lips. "We should get back," I said, "you're not wearing the clothing to be out for too long in weather like this."
We walked back to the castle, nodding and smiling to the other guests we passed by, as you do when you're feeling particularly happy yourself. And as soon as the heavy wooden door to our room was closed behind us, Blaze was wrapped around me, covering me in kisses that tasted like coffee and clutching at my clothing, eager to get it off.
"You're insatiable," I laughed, slipping my tongue into her mouth and pulling her body against me.
We made love two more times before finally falling asleep – and when we did I lay awake for longer than her, staring up at the ornate ceiling and trying to figure out if I'd known Blaze in a past life, or if the feeling of the two of us fitting together like long lost puzzle pieces was a sign of something else.
Chapter Twenty
Blaze
The sunlight, when I woke up the next day, was streaming in the windows at an odd angle. After staring groggily for a few minutes I had a brief feeling of panic at having slept in, before remembering I wasn't going to class, or to work, and I could stay in bed all day if I wanted. I lay back, luxuriating in the gigantic, fluffy bed and the expensive sheets. When I called Jack's name, there was no answer. I assumed he was probably down in the restaurant, feeding that enormous appetite of his, and then caught my smiling reflection in the mirror at the thought of Jack's appetites. They all seemed large, to say the least.
I could still feel him, and what we'd spent most of the previous night doing, in my body. There was an ache in my thighs and a certain rawness around my mouth where his stubble had rubbed my skin as he kissed me. So this is what it's like, I thought to myself as I brushed my hair out at the beautiful old-fashioned dressing table in the room. This is what it's like to feast upon – and be feasted upon – by a person you can't seem to get enough of. This is what it's like to be so close, so perfectly attuned, to a man.
I found a note a few minutes later, from Jack. He had gone for a walk in the grounds, but didn't have the heart to wake me, and he would be back soon. At the bottom of the note, beside his name, was a little scrawled heart. I folded the piece of paper up and placed it carefully into the zippered compartment inside my bag, and then I wandered barefoot over the worn stone floor to one of the windows, spotting him almost immediately. He was on his way back to the hotel. To me.
At one point in my life – a very recent one, if I'm honest – I would have felt a certain measure of guilt at the feeling that welled up in my heart when I spotted him. Tall and solid and striding with that long, loping gait of his, what I mostly felt was pride. He was mine. I didn't know how long for, or what it necessarily meant, but I knew he was mine. It didn't matter that Jack was technically penniless and homeless, because he was as fine a man as I had ever known, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. I saw the way other women looked at Jack, stealing impressed-looking glances and raising their eyebrows just slightly at their friends, if they weren't alone. It made me want to throw the window open and yell yes! That one! He's mine! It's my job to keep that devastatingly handsome smile on his face and that bounce in his step!
Of course, I didn't do that, because that would have been hellishly embarrassing and I was pretty sure a posh hotel like the one we were in didn't really want crazy women screaming lust-induced nonsense in the vicinity of their other guests. And then there was also the creeping feeling that I somehow shouldn't be feeling the things I was feeling. That there was something wrong with it.
Fortunately Jack strode through the door, canceling that neurotic little trail of thought before it could go anywhere. When he saw me, he broke into a big, helpless grin.
"I love that, you know," I told him.
"What?"
"I love the way you smile at me, Jack. It makes me feel like the only person in the world. Maybe it shouldn't but –"
"You are the only person in the world."
What could I say? There was nothing to say. All there was to do was go to him, wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and bury my face in his neck, all the while hoping that I wouldn't simply explode with joy.
"Mmm," I said, inhaling the smell of cold Irish air and Jack himself. "You smell good. Like winter."
"So do you, beautiful. Like sleep and ripe peaches and kittens."
I giggled at that – at the mere possibility that Jack might feel even a tenth of what I felt for him.
"How did you sleep?" He asked. "Are you up now? I want to go into Dublin."
"To the bank?"
"No, that's tomorrow – I just called them. I just want to wander the streets with you today. Well, there's one other thing, but it's a surprise."
I'm not normally a 'surprise' person, not at all. I'm more the person who bans her friends and family from every springing things like surprise parties or surprise trips on her. But Jack McMurtry had a calming effect on me, more than any other person – or substance or experience – ever had. There was a kind of psychological safety with him, a feeling of not needing to worry, because he was there, and his presence alone was enough to guarantee that whatever happened, I would be fine.
"Someone should bottle you," I commented as we both got ready to go into the city. I was sitting at the dressing table again, applying a little make-up.
"What was that?" Jack replied from the other side of the room where he was pulling a clean shirt out of his bag.
"I said someone should bottle you. I don't know how they'd do it. Maybe put you in a hot tub for a few hours and then boil down the water afterwards until it's a very concentrated essence of Jack?"
"Mmm," Jack scolded me affectionately, pulling my hair out of the way and kissing my neck. "Sounds kind of disgusting, Blaze."
"Not at all!" I protested. "You have a very calming effect on me, Jack. In fact I'm not sure I've ever felt this relaxed in my entire life. People pay a lot of money for this feeli
ng, for pharmaceuticals and pricey spa visits. They would pay for some of your essence, I know it. In fact I think I'll quit my job and start a new business venture doing just that."
"My essence, huh?"
I caught his eyes in the mirror as he cracked a dirty joke, and was about to throw something right back when I saw what he was wearing and my mouth literally fell open. I spun around in my chair and looked up at him.
"Jack – oh my God. Oh my God! Oh, you shouldn't have let me see you in that before we left the room!"
Jack McMurtry was wearing a suit. Not just any suit, either. A suit that looked expensive, like it had been made specifically for his body. He wasn't wearing the jacket yet, which gave me an eyeful of that perfectly proportioned torso of his in a crisp white button-up.
"Jesus," he grinned. "If I'd known I was going to get this reaction I would have worn a suit every day of my life."
I stood up and flattened my palm against his chest. There is just something about the feeling of a man's chest through a nice shirt. Then I ran my eyes down, over the leather belt and the dress pants that fit him like a glove.
"Where did you get this?" I asked, almost dazed by how sexy he looked. "Tell me you didn't just buy this off the rack in Billings – it fits too well, you're too big to just buy suits off the rack and have them fit like this. How did you –"
"I had a stopover in New York and I knew I needed a suit, so I did some research online and –"
"Don't do that," I admonished as he buttoned the cuffs at this wrists. "Jack, we're not going to leave this room if you keep doing that."
"Oh yes we are, Ms. Wilson. We have plans. You're going to have to get a hold of yourself."
"That just makes it worse," I half-whimpered. "You getting all stern and sexy just makes it worse, Jack!"
He bent down and kissed the corner of my mouth slowly. "I know it does. Don't worry, Blaze, you'll get what you need. After you exercise a little self-control, that is."