by Sable Hunter
Joshua Long had been everything his reputation promised. It wasn’t his fault she’d been an unschooled virgin, unable to do what was necessary to further her own pleasure and unable to ask for what she needed or to even know what that need meant.
After the euphoria had left her body, when the clamoring for something more had subsided, when sleep began to overtake Emma, she came to a sad realization. There was no use to dream about Josh. He wouldn’t be seeking her out. And that was probably for the best. There was no way she could avoid him, not if he came in the bar. But for the first time since she lost her sight, she was glad she wouldn’t have to look someone in the face.
* * *
George Strait woke Josh up singing Amarillo by Morning. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and stared at his surroundings trying to figure out where the hell he was. He’d woken up in a damn bordello. Carpeted walls, satin sheets, sex toys…ah hell, he was in McCoy’s Wonderland. Memories of the evening before came bombarding back into his mind. He’d spent the evening entertaining Emma Zachary.
Emma. God, he needed to think. Something about the evening had bothered him before he’d crashed – now the headache beating an anvil in his brain was still keeping the thought at bay.
“Damn headache,” he grumbled. Sitting up, he held his head in his hands. “Good lord, I need something to drink.” He went to the small fridge and got a bottle of water, downing most of it in a matter of seconds. Checking the clock one more time, he assured himself that he had time to grab a shower and clean the room before he left for work.
Heading to the bathroom, he turned on the water to get warm and dug in the well-stocked vanity until he located some ibuprofen for his head and a new toothbrush. By the time he had taken the pills and brushed his teeth, his thinking began to clear.
Emma.
Lord, Emma Zachary had turned him inside out.
He’d had sex with a lot of women, but her sweet little body had felt like home.
He’d come so hard he thought he was going to lose his mind…and…
Shit.
She’d hadn’t cum at all.
He thought again, reliving, replaying. Fuck!
Joshua Long had failed to give a woman an orgasm.
“Well, hell.”
Sitting down on the toilet, he used the time not only to do his business, but to catch his breath, contemplating on the absurdity of the situation. The only time a woman had essentially paid him for sex and he’d left her wanting. When she said she’d gotten her money’s worth, she hadn’t been serious, she’d been facetious.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He stared down, his eyes not really focused, not really looking at anything – until what he was seeing registered. Inside the garbage can was the used condom and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was colored with… Blood?
What the hell? He rubbed his head. Things were fast going from bad to worse. As far as mornings after goes, he’d run the gamut. Over the years he’d done it all – threesomes, food-sex, lubes, oils – but he’d never woke up with a woman’s blood on his cock. Glancing at his fingers, he halfway expected to see blood on them. He’d played in her pussy, if she had started her period, the evidence would be on his hands. Josh didn’t have a phobia about a girl’s time of the month, usually that just meant she enjoyed it more. Most females didn’t realize that their monthly increased their libido – and if a man could wrap his head around that, the rewards were there for the claiming.
Nope, they were clean. Which only left one explanation.
Picking up his dick to examine it, he found what he feared. Dried blood. Yea, he’d done it. Needing one more bit of confirmation, he padded back into the bedroom, knowing exactly what he’d find. Hell! He jerked the sheets off the bed, cramming them into the hamper.
Emma Zachary had been a virgin.
After his shower, Josh spent the next fifteen minutes returning the room to its former pristine condition. Satisfied that he’d done his best, he gathered all of the dishes he and Emma had left and repacked them in the picnic basket. While he took care of those mundane tasks, Josh was busy thinking. When he was through, he’d come to a conclusion.
Tonight, after work, he’d be paying Hardbodies a visit. He had a proposition for Miss Emma.
Josh Long, cowgirl whisperer, wanted two things.
An explanation. And a do-over.
* * *
“He was really nice. I had fun.” This was the third time she’d answered Avery. “How long till closing time? You’re driving me bonkers.”
“Fifteen minutes. Serious, is that all you’re going to tell me?” Avery pressed. “How am I supposed to get inspiration from that, girl? Don’t you want me to write a love scene starring you and Josh?”
Emma laughed. “No, not really.” She was surprised how badly she wanted to keep what happened between her and Josh private. It might not have been perfect, but the time had been special to Emma.
“Hey, bartender, what’s a man got to do to get service in this bar?”
Avery drew closer to Emma. “Watch this guy. Isaac’s warned him once or twice. I think we’re his second stop. He’s usually already way on his way to being tanked when he gets here.”
“Be right with you, sir.” Emma finished the Tequila Sunrise she was working on, handed it off to Doris and made her way to the impatient customer. “What can I get you?”
“My, my, aren’t you a cutie pie.”
“Beer? Scotch? Whiskey?” She called out selections, hoping to get his mind off of flirting with her.
“I’ll take a rum and coke, if you’ll come and around here and sit in my lap.”
“One rum and coke coming up.” Emma moved back to her station to prepare his drink.
“Whoo-doggy, you have one fine ass, Red!” The same man called out.
“Hey, watch it, fella.” Leonard’s voice spoke up to defend her.
“Do you want me to get, Isaac?” Avery whispered near her right shoulder.
“No, I can handle it. He’s no big deal,” Emma said lowly as she headed back to give the obnoxious jerk his drink.
When she went to put it in front of him, something happened. He reached to grab her arm and Emma, not seeing it, let her drink collide with his hand, knocking it from her grasp and splashing the man in the face. “What the fuck!” he yelled. “What? Are you blind, you little bitch?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Emma fetched a rag to mop up the mess. “I’ll fix you another.”
Unbeknownst to Emma, the guy was waving a hand in her face. “She is blind! Manager!” he called. “What is the hell do you mean hiring a blind bartender? What about the health code? Is this legal? She might poison us and we’d never know it.”
“Sir, that made absolutely no sense. You need to calm down,” Avery insisted, coming to stand by Emma.
“I don’t have to calm down. I got liquor in my eyes and it burns. I may go blind too. I think I’m going to sue. The floors even wet, I’ll probably break my leg getting out of here!”
“Sir, please, I apologize,” Emma began, very afraid that attention like this would cost her the job she valued so highly.
Wanting to make things right, she moved the prescribed six steps to her left and retrieved the mop that always stayed in that same place. Taking her cane, she moved from around the bar to mop up the mess he spoke of. “If you’ll just show me where, I’ll clean it up for you.”
Before Emma knew what was happening, the man had grabbed her hand and planted it right over his crotch. “Work on this spot, it needs some attention.”
Emma started to scream, but she didn’t get the chance. “Sit here, Miss Emma.” The next second she wasn’t on her feet, she was sitting on the bar and the unmistakable sound of a fistfight broke out.
“Avery!” Emma called out.
“Right here, girl. Your knight in a black Stetson has arrived. And he’s pissed. Do you want to tell me again what a nice time you had last night?”
“Break it up, break it up.” Isaac’s voi
ce rang out. “Let’s take this outside.”
“Don’t blame Josh, Isaac. He was saving Emma.” Avery’s voice faded to Emma’s ears as she followed her husband across the bar.
“Good grief.” Emma eased off the bar and began mopping up the counter. “Did we retrieve the flying glass?”
“Yea, it didn’t break, Em. Here it is.” Leonard sat it down next to her hand.
“Avery? What’s happening? Where’s Josh?”
“I’m right here, Emma.” Josh settled down on the stool, rubbing his sore hand. “Are you all right?” He’d walked in the door, intending to get a quick beer and be ready to talk to Emma as soon as her shift was over. What he’d found when he’d got here made him furious. All he saw was red, some asshole had his hand on Emma and was talking shit to her. When he got through with him, he wouldn’t be making that mistake again anytime soon.
“Josh? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Did he hurt you?”
“No, he didn’t.” She’d been thinking about him all day and now that he was here she felt incredibly shy. “You always seem to be here when I need you.”
“Just lucky, I guess.” He sought to find the right words to start his speech. Before he could, she sat a beer in front of him. “Here you go, drink up with my gratitude.”
He kept waiting for her to bring up last night, but she didn’t. Instead she busied herself behind the bar, taking care of final orders and tending to the tabs. As she worked, he let his turmoil build. Leveling his gaze in the mirror, he tried to calm himself by surveying the room – a regular bar with wood floors, square wood tables, a half-moon stage, collectible western and biker paraphernalia on the walls – nothing particularly exceptional except the woman behind the bar.
Isaac came up to him. “You want to come in the back for a drink of my special Scotch, on the house?”
Josh cut his eyes toward Emma. “I’ve got some important business to attend to here. Rain check?”
“Sure, buddy, I understand,” Isaac left him alone.
He waited until almost last, then went to Doris to pay his tab, insisting she take the money and not put the beer against Emma’s earnings.
“She won’t like this,” Doris warned. “Our Emma’s a softie.”
He could definitely attest to that. “She’s special, all right.”
Josh hung back until everyone else was gone except Emma, Avery and Isaac. The McCoy’s gave him the signal and let themselves out the front, leaving him and Emma alone.
“Come on, Fergus.”
Fergus was watching him and gave a soft chuff of a greeting. He knew it was time to reveal himself before he scared her.
“I know you’re here, Josh,” she spoke up out of nowhere, startling him.
“How did you know?”
“You’re not exactly tiptoeing around in those shit-kicker boots you wear.”
“I could’ve been anyone. Where’s your mace? Do you have any pepper spray?” Up until that moment, he hadn’t considered that his hanging back could’ve made her feel unsafe.
“Yea, I do. But I recognized your body wash or shampoo or something. You smell like freshly mown grass and leather.” She stopped walking, then turned to face him. “Listen, I’m so grateful for you taking up for me, but I’m fine. I need to go. My feet are killing me. Do you need to come out this way?” Emma started for the back, taking Fergus’s halter and starting down the hall. When she passed the room where they’d made love the night before, her heart beat more rapidly. Almost – almost she made it to the back entrance before he stopped her.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about, Josh.” Once again, she turned for the door.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t bring up the embarrassing events of last night.
Tonight, just the sight of her in a denim skirt and a pink lace camisole made him hard. He knew exactly what those simple little garments were covering up. “I found blood on the sheets. I know I was a little rough, but I’ve never made a woman bleed before.”
“I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me. And like I told you last night, I had a good time and I’m grateful to you.” At that, she turned away from him.
Josh grabbed her forearm, “Stop, Emma. Please.” How insensitive was he? “You were a virgin, weren’t you? I was your first.”
Emma shrugged, Josh made it sound like some dread disease. “Yea, you were my first. My first kiss, my first…everything. I didn’t think you’d be able to tell. Sorry.”
Yea, he was sorry. A sorry son-of-a-gun. “You should’ve told me.”
“Josh, please, I don’t want to discuss this here.” Avery had told her there was a camera in the corner of the hall. No one looked at it unless there was a question about a security breach, but she didn’t relish her private business being recorded for posterity.
“Let’s go to your trailer and discuss it there.” When she hesitated, he played the pitiful card. “I haven’t eaten. Do you have any of that cake left?”
“Yea.” She sighed. “Come on.”
This time, she and Fergus walked ahead of him. He waited patiently while she unlocked the door, marveling that she turned on the light for him once again. “Have a seat. I’ll get you some cake. I’m going to have coffee. Would you rather have milk?”
“Sure, milk is great.” Josh sat down at the small dinette table, favoring his sore knee, hoping the chair would support his weight.
“I can make you a turkey sandwich,” she offered as she leaned against the arm of the couch and removed her boots.
“I’ll take it. Can I help you with anything?”
“No, I’ve got it,” Emma answered as she moved to her small kitchen, opened the refrigerator and began to remove the lunch meat, lettuce and tomato. “Mayonnaise or mustard?”
“Mayo. Thanks.” He needed sustenance, he might need all the strength he could get to push this argument past the wall she’d erected around herself. Emma’s tone had completely changed since last night. Oh, she’d been very appreciative of his coming to her aid, but it was obvious she didn’t want to revisit the events of last evening.
Glancing around, he was surprised to find the small area decorated with things that undoubtedly belonged to Emma. Why would she do that, when she couldn’t see it? He saw photos of her, people who had to be her family, certificates, and a painting of a field of bluebonnets. “Emma, all of these pictures and stuff on the wall, why are they there?”
Emma placed the sandwich and two slices of cake on saucers, turning to carry them the three or four steps to where he waited. “Even though I can’t see, I’m aware of my space and I love to visualize it. Those things on the walls represent me and it helps me feel at home. I would hate to know I was living somewhere bare and unwelcoming. Does that make sense?”
“Yea, it does.” He rose to take his plate from her, then to pull out her chair, taking her arm to guide her down in it.
“Thanks, but please don’t put yourself out. I know you’re been injured. I hope you didn’t hurt yourself…last night.”
At the mention of last night, he felt his body stir at the memory of being inside of her. “I didn’t and I’m better. I’ve been seeing a physical therapist. The sessions are really helping.”
“That’s good to hear.” Emma settled down, feeling unsure and self-conscious. “I hope you like the cake, it’s called chocolate ganache, really rich.”
“I enjoyed the small taste I got last night.” Josh took a bite and groaned. “God, that’s good.” He glanced at her, watching how she held her cup to carefully bring it to her mouth. “If you don’t mind my asking, how can you cook like this when you can’t see the recipe or the ingredients?”
Grateful to be talking about something other than sex and her foolish actions, Emma brightened. “Many cookbooks come in audiobook form and there’s also many You-tube videos, not to mention Braille cookbooks, plus I like t
o experiment. As far as the ingredients go, I have a friend at the store who helps fill my list, I keep my cabinets organized like I do my station in the bar and I also taste things before I add them.” She winked at Josh. “Just in case I get the sugar and the salt in the wrong place.”
“Ingenious.” He took another big bite. “I’ve just never thought about it before.”
“I’m the first blind person you’ve ever been around?” she asked, licking chocolate off her lips. ‘
Mesmerized by her actions, it took Josh a few seconds to answer. “Yea, I guess so, come to think of it.”
“So, you’re working for the McCoys?”
He took the time to swallow before responding. “Yea, I’m adjusting, but it’s different. I’ve traveled with the rodeo for the past thirteen years, having an eight to five job is new to me.”
“How did you get hurt?” she asked, taking another slow sip of coffee.
“You mean you didn’t hear?”
His voice had a hint of sarcasm and it made her feel funny. “No, I must have missed that conversation.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that,” Josh muttered, pulling the cake plate closer. “I’m just touchy about the subject.” He cleared his throat. “Rodeo was my life, all I know. I was a special kind of fool, a bull rider, one of the biggest gambles on earth. I completed the ride, but the animal turned on me. I got trampled. The doctors said my career is over.” As he answered, it hit him that what he was saying might not be true anymore. What if his leg healed? It felt a thousand times better than it had before. Was this some type of temporary thing, would he wake up in agony one day soon or would he find that Cady McCoy was the real deal – an empath? Suddenly he found himself wanting to talk about it, but he didn’t want Emma to think he was an idiot, believing he’d been healed by a woman with some type of power. At the same time, he realized that even if he could return to the rodeo, he didn’t know if he wanted to. He was over thirty and maybe it was time that he found some way to make a living that didn’t require him being thrown twenty feet in the air and landing on his ass twice a night.