Timing

by Mary Calmes

  “Oh my.” Tina caught her breath.

  “Holy shit, I almost forgot,” Alison whispered fast.

  “What?” Charlotte asked her.

  “That your brother is a cowboy, and a damn fine sexy one at that.”

  “Are those chaps?”

  “Dear God in heaven, the man is beautiful.”

  There was no argument to be made; the man was absolute fantasy material come to life. Up on his horse, riding in from the range, he was as close to heaven as most of us were ever going to get. As he dismounted, my eyes mapped every line of his massive frame. He looked amazing in the boot-cut jeans that hugged his long, muscular legs and ass, the brown leather chaps, and the weathered cowboy boots. The belt buckle was huge and drew your eyes to his groin, and between the flannel shirt, the white T-shirt peeking out from the open collar, and the cowboy hat, he was mouthwatering. And it wasn’t just me noticing.

  The sly, sexy way he smiled, the dimple in his chin, the veins in his hands, the way the shirt stretched across his wide chest, and his bright, glittering eyes… I needed to be dumped into a pool of ice water. When he reached us, leading the beautiful Appaloosa mare, I felt my mouth go dry.

  “Hey, you,” Charlotte greeted her brother, stepping forward to touch the brim of the hat that shaded the upper part of his face. “Are you ready for all of us?”

  “I’ve got dinner covered,” he assured her, passing me the reins of the horse, “but I’ve only got room for you and Stef out here tonight.”

  “No, I know.” She smiled at him. “I appreciate you hosting this for me. I know that traditionally the rehearsal dinner is for the groom’s family to do, but since they’re paying for the wedding… I wanted us—our family—to do this.”

  “’Course,” he said, turning to me. “You okay to hold her?”

  I nodded, looking at the horse, reaching out to stroke the side of her neck. “Yeah. She’s so beautiful, Rand.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “She’s not one of your brood mares, though?”

  “No,” he said slowly, “she’s not.”

  I felt myself scowl. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just funny that you know anything about brood mares.”

  My face got hot. “No, I—”

  “So tell me—how many brood mares do I have, Stef?”

  “I dunno… fifteen?” I asked, looking up into his glittering eyes.

  “That’s right,” he said, delight plain on his face. “And how many other horses on the ranch?”

  “Four stallions, and what’d you tell Char last time—thirty saddle horses?”

  His smile was out of control. “Yep, and what kind of cattle are here on the Red Diamond?”

  I was aware of everyone’s attention. Charlotte was looking at me like I had grown another head, and Rand’s wicked smile was making his eyes glitter. I was making an absolute fool of myself, and that would not do. I dropped the reins before turning to walk toward the house.

  “Is your mom here?” I asked casually.

  “Yeah, she’s inside.” He chuckled.

  I nodded, moving fast, not liking the fact that he was making fun of me. I had cared enough to remember details I had overheard about his ranch, and he found that amusing. Screw him! Nobody got to laugh at me. The only comforting thought was that after years of practice, my emotions were not easy to read on my face. I might feel warm, but I never blushed. I might have trouble speaking, but it only made my voice, when it did come out, lower, huskier, sexier. A string of my mother’s deadbeat boyfriends, culminating in a vicious stepfather, had taught me how to keep everything from showing on the surface.

  “Stef!”

  I kept walking.

  “Stefan Joss!”

  His voice had been a roar, so I stopped and looked back over my shoulder.

  “I fired the butler,” he said sarcastically, pushing his hat back before pointing to the trunk of the car. “So you should probably bring in your and Char’s stuff.”

  My look must have scared Ben.

  “I’ll bring the bags,” the groom offered quickly, putting up his hands. “Just go in already.”

  On the porch, the wood creaked under my wing tips, and I smelled the garlic and onions even before I reached the screen door.

  “Hello,” I called out as I opened it and went in.

  “Stefan, honey, I’m in here,” May replied from the kitchen.

  You never realize how hungry you are until you’re faced with sautéed onions. Even if you hate them, they still smell amazing.

  “There’s my boy,” Charlotte’s mother greeted me warmly as I came through the swinging door to join her.

  After we finished the hugging and kissing portion of the evening, I listened as she explained about the twice-baked potatoes that were in the oven and the gravy she was making to go over the barbecue ribs.

  I was leaning against the counter when Ben came in with my duffle and Charlotte’s garment bag. I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

  “Thanks. Sorry.”

  “No.” He shook his head, waving at me, wanting my attention.

  When I was really looking at him, giving him the full weight of my stare, he mouthed out that Rand was a dick. Since Rand’s mother was in the room with us, I understood why I was reading his lips and not listening to his voice. No one wanted to hear a criticism of their child, even if it was true.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I assured him, leaning against the counter as Charlotte’s mother walked up beside me, her hand on my back, patting gently.

  “I made peach crumb cobbler for you and Charlotte for later.”

  She knew it was my favorite. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “I always think of you, sweetheart… you’re my angel.”

  I had taken care of Charlotte when she couldn’t, helped fulfill her late husband’s wish that his girl get a college degree. For the rest of my life, I was golden in her book.

  “Which room is mine?”

  “The one next to Rand’s at the top of the stairs.” She smiled at me. “Charlotte’s is across the hall.”

  Grabbing my duffel, I slung it over my shoulder and headed for the stairs. I loved the feel of the house and noticed on the many occasions I had been forced to be in it over the years that, for whatever reason, I always felt comfortable. There were lots of windows, wooden floors, rugs that resembled Navajo blankets, and leather furniture with the brass rivets in it. It was a man’s home, and there were no delicate feminine touches, even though Rand’s mother visited often. She had left the ranch after her husband died and now lived in a condo in Lubbock.

  My room for the night was small but airy, the Casablanca fan spinning slowly on the ceiling, all the windows open, the breeze bringing in the smell of wildflowers and charcoal. The grill had been fired up.

  “I wasn’t laughing at you.”

  Turning, I found Rand leaning against the doorframe.

  “I swear, Stef, I would never laugh at you.”

  “It felt like it.”

  He shook his head. “Nope, I was just surprised.”

  “About what?”

  “That you knew anything at all about this ranch.”

  I looked at him and felt my stomach flip over.

  “So I’m sorry, all right?”

  All I could do was nod.

  His smile came fast as he tipped his head at me. “Nice collared shirt you got on there.”

  I flipped him off, turning back to the bed, needing to take a breath since looking at Rand made moving air through my lungs difficult. He needed to go away so I could calm down.

  Grabbed hard, I landed on my back in the middle of the bed under my best friend’s brother. It took me a second to realize that I had been tackled and that the man with the dancing eyes looming over me seemed very pleased with himself.

  “Rand….” I tried to shove him off me. “What’re you—”

  He bent and kissed me, sucking my bottom lip into his
mouth, biting it gently. The result was instantaneous: I forgot about everything but him. My brain emptied; nothing mattered except Rand Holloway and the way I was being kissed, like if he didn’t, he’d die. He made me feel like I was all he needed.

  I arched up into him and felt the answering tension, his hard thigh pressing into my groin, his arms wrapping around me tightly.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked against my lips.

  I coiled around him so he’d know, turning my head to offer up my neck for more of his marks. His teeth closing on the base of my throat felt like heaven, as did the hand sliding down my thigh, lifting my leg up over his hip.

  “I wanna be buried back inside you, Stef. It’s all I could think about all day long.”

  My eyes lifted from the kissable mouth to eyes filled with need. “Close the door and I’m all yours.”

  He chuckled before he bent and ground his mouth down over mine, kissing me so hard, so deep, his tongue driving me out of mind, stroking over mine until I was sure I had melted into the bed. His hands were on me everywhere, under my shirt, on my burning skin. I didn’t even realize he had tugged the button-down out of my pants.

  “You’re just saying yes ’cause you know I can’t do shit about this right now.”

  I reached up and took his face in my hands. “I’m saying yes because I want you to fuck me ’til I pass out.”

  The groan was low; he sounded like he was in agony. “Jesus, Stef… why you gotta say shit like that when you know it’ll be all I can think about now?”

  “Because I can,” I said with a smile up at him.

  “Aww, man.” He sighed before he suddenly clutched me tight to him, his face pressed into the crook of my neck. “This is good too.”

  I had no idea what was going on. Hot pillow talk promising hours of fucking I could do. Intimacy was a totally different thing. The man was not trying to rip off my clothes; he was hugging me tight to his heart as he rolled over on his back, keeping me in his arms.

  “Stay here with me after the wedding. I wanna wake up with you in the morning and take you riding and eat dinner, just you and me. Please… just stay here.”

  I pushed against him, and he let me untangle myself. I sat up, straddling his thighs as I looked down into his eyes.

  “Oh yeah.” He shifted under me, drawing his knees up behind my back, running his hands up my thighs. “This works.”

  When I put my hands down on his chest and lifted up only to sink back down, pressing my ass over his groin, I felt him shudder under me.

  “Stef.” My name came out as a sultry whisper. “Forget what I said… fuck me now.”

  I licked my lips. “Can’t… you’ve got a house full of people to entertain.”

  “Stef, I—”

  “Stef!” Charlotte called as she clomped up the stairs.

  I scrambled away from Rand and off the bed and was standing by the window when she strolled into the bedroom.

  “What’re you doing?” she snapped at me. “Get downstairs and deal with these people with me.”

  Rand muttered something as he stalked from the room.

  “What?” she called after him. “What?”

  I moved toward the door, but her eyes, suddenly back on me, froze me where I stood.

  “What did he say?”

  “What?”

  She squinted at me.

  “Seriously, what?”

  “Did he just say that I shouldn’t yell at you?”

  “No,” I assured her, tipping my head at the door. “C’mon, I’ll follow you.”

  She was staring at me. “Why would my brother care what I do to you?”

  “He doesn’t.”

  But she did not look convinced as I walked out of the room.

  THERE WERE over a hundred people just at the rehearsal dinner; I could only imagine what the wedding the following day was going to be like. As I sat at the table with the rest of the bridal party, I watched Rand as he stood talking to people I didn’t know. Every time I tried to look away, I found my eyes wandering back.

  His black hair fell into his eyes, long in the front and running down the back of his neck, but not hitting his shoulders like mine did. The inky waves looked soft, and I knew from brand new firsthand experience that they were. The blue eyes looking out between the strands of hair that caught on his lashes were very sexy. I found that just looking at him—his profile, the chiseled features, the sharp, clean lines—made my heart beat funny. I needed to take a walk and clear my head so I could process everything that had happened.

  I walked down toward the stable, and halfway there, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I found Nick. He was weaving, tripping as he closed in on me, so very drunk.

  “You better get your ass back up there and—”

  “Stef,” he cut me off, lunging at me, wrapping his arms around me, trying to pull me close.

  But while Nicholas Towne was taller than me, six-three to my own five-eleven, he was not the wall of solid muscle that Rand Holloway was. I had him shoved back and flat on his back in the dirt seconds later. The maneuver I had performed had swept his legs out from under him before he even realized he was falling.

  “Shit,” he coughed after a minute. “I think you broke my legs.”

  “Hardly,” I said, squatting down beside him. “What the fuck was that?”

  He coughed again. “I don’t…. I’m just drunk.”

  I nodded. He was most definitely drunk, but that did not mean his agenda was fuzzy in any way. Had I been receptive to it, he would have kissed me and maybe done more. The look, when he came at me, had been pure lust. But making him explain himself was a mistake. Better to just let it go and not have any awkwardness for Charlotte’s big day.

  “Take my hand.”

  He took the assistance I offered him, letting me pull him up to his feet.

  “Sorry, Stef.”

  “It’s fine,” I assured him, turning away. “I’ll see you back up at the house.”

  “You won’t tell Ben,” he said behind me.

  “Shouldn’t you be more worried about explaining it to your wife?”

  “Stef, I—”

  “Just forget it.”

  “Thanks, Stef,” he called after me.

  I waved to let him know I’d heard him but didn’t turn around. I was having the weirdest few days.

  The farther I walked, the calmer I got. It was twilight; the breeze was warm, and the smells of grass and flowers and the faint trace of smoke filled the air. It was nice, slow and easy, and as I climbed up on the fence to look out at the pasture, I had the strangest feeling of calm. Four men on horseback were riding toward the house, and when they saw me, they all lifted their hands to wave. It was nice, friendly, and I smiled as I waved back. Minutes later, hoofbeats in the dirt turned my head back toward the house. I doubted I would ever get tired of seeing Rand up on a horse. He belonged on the cover of a romance novel.

  “Hey.” I nodded to him as I stepped off the fence, looking up into Rand’s bright blue eyes.

  “What’re you doin’ out here?”

  I shrugged. “Just needed to clear my head.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  He nodded, patting the side of the horse’s neck. “C’mon, lemme give you a ride back before anyone attacks you again.”

  My head snapped up. “You saw that?”

  He smiled, leaning forward to give me his hand. “Yessir, I saw that,” he told me. “Which is why I nearly rode him down on my way to you.”

  “Rand, he just—”

  “C’mere,” he ordered me. “Hurry up.”

  I grasped his warm, callused hand, and he hauled me up behind him.

  “Put your arms around me.”

  “I shouldn’t,” I told him. “Everyone will see.”

  “See what?”

  “How much I’ll be enjoying it.”

  His rumbling laughter made me smile as he looked at me over his shoulder. “Hold on tight, Stef
. I don’t wanna lose you.”

  My thighs were plastered behind his, my arms wrapped around him, and I rested my cheek between his shoulder blades.

  “Tighter.” His voice came out as a rasp.

  I clutched at him, and I felt his hand over mine, his fingers between my fingers, pressing my palm over his heart so that I could feel his pulse through the flannel shirt.

  “Call whoever you have to, but promise me you’ll come back here with me tomorrow after the wedding and stay here, just for a week or so.”

  But how could I promise that when my life was in Chicago?

  “Stef?”

  “I’ll see.”

  He was silent as we rode, just holding my hand until he cautioned me to stop squirming if I didn’t want to be pulled into the barn and thrown down in the hay.

  “That sounds really hot,” I assured him.

  “It’s not, actually,” he growled at me. “It itches.”

  How matter-of-fact the man was in the face of passion made me smile.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing,” I squeezed him tight, heard his grunt when I did it before his deep sigh.

  I made him drop me off at the end of the drive and watched him ride away. I had no idea what he really expected me to do, while at the same time I wondered what I was capable of. I was normally so in control when it came to sex. I had been called cold, aloof, and distant, but I couldn’t manage to be anything but shockingly eager whenever Rand got near me. What the hell was I supposed to do?

  IT WAS the evening I was certain Charlotte had hoped for, wished for. There was music and dancing and food… so much food. It was all so warm—the picnic tables with the red gingham tablecloths, the wildflower bouquets on every table, the pitchers of sun tea—the rehearsal dinner was more like a big family gathering than a planned event. Everyone got caught smiling. Even Ben’s father, whose comments about Charlotte’s family had disturbed me, was touched by the charm of the ranch. There was no way to miss the beauty, the quality of life that had not changed in generations, and the strength and character of the man who owned it and the men who worked it. Ben’s father, along with everyone else, was impressed with the Red Diamond Ranch.

  As I watched Charlotte and her brother dancing on the end of the gravel drive, I took in the fluid way the man moved, the play of muscles under his shirt, and the way his jeans hugged his firm, round ass. When our eyes locked, I realized that I had been caught not only staring, but probably salivating. His arrogant smile told me he was pleased. I took quick refuge in the house, but it was a mistake. Had I not run, the torture would not have been instigated.