by Pamela Clare
“Hey, you’re not still blaming yourself for my case of jalapenis, are you?”
She shook her head. “I was just thinking how normal you and Winona are, what a normal, happy life you’ve had.”
He let out a laugh. “Yeah, normal. I’m thirty-three. I work on rockets and climb rocks, though I’m supposed to be a Sun Dance chief. Also, I live with my sister and her wolf. That’s as normal as it gets.”
She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
He kissed the top of her head, gave her a squeeze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Her gaze was fixed on some faraway place. “I keep expecting to wake up and find that this is all a dream—that you and Win aren’t real. Or for you to tell me that you don’t really want me and that I have to go.”
He turned with her in his arms, rolling her onto her back so that he could look straight into her eyes. “That is not going to happen. That’s just a worry in your mind, the voice of your past talking about things that happened before you met me.”
Tears pooled in those blue eyes. “I just don’t know what a man like you, who could have any woman in Scarlet, who’s smart and sexy and successful—did I say good looking yet?—sees in a woman like me. I came from nowhere. I was raised by crazy people. I didn’t go to college. I’m not intelligent like you and—”
“Stop.” It put a physical ache in his chest to hear her talk about herself like that. “You want to know what I see in you? I’ll tell you. I see kindness. The way you treat Bear, the way you are with animals—I could never be with a woman who didn’t have love and kindness in her heart.”
“Yeah?”
“That’s at the top of my list.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re plenty smart. I know lots of people with college educations, some with doctorates, who are anything but intelligent.”
She sniffed, smiled. “Really?”
“Really. Come to work with me sometime, and I’ll show you educated people with no brains.” He slid his fingers into her hair, lifted it away from her face. “You’re honest. I know it took a lot of courage to tell me this. You were honest about being jealous of Rose, too.”
He went on, wanting so very much to reach her. “You’re talented. You’re a true artist, Naomi. I could never do what you do.”
He got a genuine smile for that.
He ducked down, brushed his lips over hers. “And, damn, woman, you’re beautiful. Everything about you turns me on.”
But then it hit him. This wasn’t about facts. It was about emotions. It was about the people who’d abandoned her, who’d abused her, who’d tried to beat their sickness into her, who’d made her believe there was something wrong with her.
He pulled away. “I know you’ve been disappointed by people before, but did you ever think that maybe you and I were meant to meet, that I was supposed to find you?”
Tell her, kola. Tell her the whole of it.
It was on the tip of his tongue, but when he opened his mouth, other words came out. “Maybe the Great Mystery behind this world sees all you’ve endured, knows how brave you’ve been and how alone, and wants you to be happy.”
Her blue eyes glittered with tears. “Do you really believe that?”
He knew it had been a long time since she’d believed in anything, so he would have to claim this for both of them. “Yes, I do. With everything I am, I do.”
“Hey, I’m home!” From downstairs came Winona’s voice. “Are you still in bed?”
Winona had worked all day, so Chaska stepped up to make dinner. While he grilled buffalo burgers, Naomi chopped vegetables for a garden salad, his words running through her mind.
Did you ever think that maybe you and I were meant to meet, that I was supposed to find you?
It was a pretty thought, but Naomi had been around the block a few too many times to believe that some benevolent force was watching over her.
And yet…
Chaska understood her the way no man—or woman, for that matter—ever had. He saw inside her so clearly, saw her as she wished to be, not as the frightened, lost person she was. He respected her work. He listened to her. He was an incredible lover—yes, Rose had been right about that. Most of all, he cared about her. He’d made that clear in so many ways today.
The intimacy she had with him was more than she’d believed she’d ever have with a man. It was everything she’d wanted. He was everything she wanted.
Then why couldn’t she shake this feeling that it was all going to fall apart?
That’s just a worry in your mind, the voice of your past talking about things that happened before you met me.
Could it be that simple? Could she just let go—and be happy?
She stopped chopping a tomato, closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled the scent of grilling meat. She heard Winona’s cheerful voice as she told Chaska about the antics of the mountain lion cubs today, heard his deep chuckle.
This life, this place, these people—Naomi could come to love this.
You’re in love with him already.
After just one week? She had to be crazy.
The back door opened, jerking Naomi from her thoughts.
She went back to chopping the tomato, felt Chaska come up behind her, his arms going around her waist, his lips pressing a kiss to her neck.
Okay, maybe not so crazy.
“I’m almost finished here. How are the steaks?”
“They’re done. I need to grab a plate so I can bring them in.” He reached past her, took an oval-shaped platter out of one cupboard and disappeared outside again.
Winona came back in, started setting the table. She lowered her voice. “My brother really likes you.”
Naomi dropped the chopped tomato into the salad and handed the bowl to Winona to carry to the table. “That’s what he told me today.”
Winona beamed. “You like him, too, right?”
“Yes, I care about him so much that—”
But then Chaska stepped back inside, three grilled steaks and three potatoes wrapped in aluminum foil on the platter.
Winona hid her smile and went to the refrigerator for salad dressing. She stared in disbelief. “Where’s the milk? I just bought a new carton yesterday. How can it be gone?”
Chaska’s gaze met Naomi’s. “Sorry, yeah, I drank it all. I’ll run to the store.”
It was everything Naomi could do not to burst out laughing.
The food was delicious, the company even better. Naomi told Winona about Rose tricking her and Bob and his pink kimono. She helped with the spirit plate, too, adding a little piece of potato and some of her salad, earning an appreciative glance from Chaska.
They had finished with the meal but were still talking when Chaska’s cell phone rang. He drew it out of his pocket. “It’s Tina. I’d better take this.”
He answered in Lakota and then stepped out the back door.
Winona leaned forward. “What were you going to say before he stepped inside? You like him so much that…”
“I like him so much that it scares me. I think I’m in love with him.”
For some reason, Winona didn’t look surprised. “Don’t be afraid. He feels the same. I’m sure of it, though he’d kill me if he knew I’d told you. He…”
Her words trailed off, her head turning toward the backyard, as if she were listening to Chaska’s conversation. A look of surprise came over her face, her gaze jerking to Naomi. “He’s speaking with our grandfather.”
Naomi’s pulse spiked. “What are they saying?”
“I’m not sure. It’s about your medicine wheel.” Winona looked confused. “What would my grandfather know about that?”
Naomi drew it out, held it, her heart pounding now. “Chaska sent scans of it to him, hoping he might know who made it.”
“Oh. Wow. It sounds like he does.”
Chaska ended the call and walked back inside, wondering how Naomi was going to feel about this news. She watched him,
a hint of wariness on her face. Winona must have overheard and shared at least some of what he’d said with her.
He sat, took Naomi’s hand, came right out with it. “My grandfather is certain he knows who made that medicine wheel—Maggie Otter Tail.”
“I remember her,” Winona said. “She was old even when we were little.”
Chaska nodded. “She made the journey to the spirit world a long time ago.”
“Did she have any daughters?” Naomi asked.
“No. She had one son, but he’s gone now, too. He had two sons who are still alive. Maggie also had many nieces and great nieces through her two sisters. Old Man says she made these for the people she loved, the people in her family. He said you can tell it’s her work by the two black X marks on the back at the bottom.”
Naomi drew the leather cord over her head, turned the medicine wheel over, and examined. “They’re right here.”
She handed it to Chaska, pointed. “I never noticed them before.”
To be fair, they were tiny and disappeared into the overall pattern—until you knew what you were trying to find.
“He and Tina are going to talk with Maggie’s grandsons tomorrow to see what they have to say, whether they know who this one might have belonged to.”
“You know what this means?” Win looked like she was about to explode from excitement.
“It means I’ve come a step closer to knowing the name of the woman who gave birth to me and then left me in that alley to die.” Naomi lifted the leather thong over her head, let the medicine wheel drop back inside her shirt.
“It also means that you’re probably Oglala Lakota just like us. Wouldn’t it be fun to find out we’re long-lost cousins?”
Chaska glared at his sister, who seemed to realize what she was saying.
She grimaced. “No, that wouldn’t be good at all.”
“Why not?” Naomi asked.
Winona busied herself with clearing the table, leaving Chaska to answer. “Well, because you and I have… uh….”
Naomi’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Do you think there’s any chance—”
“No. Maggie Otter Tail wasn’t related to anyone in our family.” Now came the hard part. “Grandfather wants me to send a photo of you to Tina’s phone. I told him—”
“A photo of me? Why?” Confusion and anger flashed in her eyes. “I don’t want a photo of me going to the woman who abandoned me.”
“I told him you wouldn’t be comfortable with that. He says it might help him find your mother, but I think he just wants to see you for himself. He knows that you mean a lot to me.”
“You told him?” This seemed to surprise her, but in a good way.
“Of course, I told him. He’s important to me—and so are you.”
This seemed to spur Naomi into action. “Well, if you have to send a photo to your grandfather, I can’t look like this. Win, you have to help me.”
What was she talking about?
“You look fine.” Chaska raised his cell phone to snap a photo.
Naomi blocked him with her hands. “Please, not yet.”
She stood and made her way upstairs with Winona beside her. “I need to do something with my hair and my face.”
Chaska shouted after them. “He wants a photo of you, not makeup!”
Twenty minutes later, Naomi sat on the sofa in different clothes, her hair brushed to a shine and pulled into a barrette, mascara on her lashes, gloss on her lips. She looked lovely—and nervous as hell. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re beautiful.” Chaska held up his cell phone, saw the tension on her face. “Don’t look at the camera. Look at me.”
She lifted her gaze to his, some of the tension easing from her face.
He clicked. “Perfect.”
“Wait! Can I see?”
He turned his phone. “See? You look amazing.”
“That’s good!” Winona said.
Naomi smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”
Chaska sent the image in a text message to Tina. “Now I guess we wait to find out what the two of them learn tomorrow.”
He hoped that, whatever the news, it would bring Naomi peace.
Chapter 18
Naomi woke to the delicious feel of Chaska’s lips against her nape.
He whispered against her skin. “Hihanni waste. Good morning.”
She tried to repeat what he’d said. “Hi-hanni wash-tay.”
He chuckled. “Lila waste—very good.”
“Are you giving me a language lesson?”
“Hmm. Not a bad idea. Pay close attention. There will be a test afterward.”
They lay spooned together on their sides with him behind her, his erection pressing against her bottom, one big hand resting on the curve of her hip.
He slid his hand back and forth over that curve. “Nite. Hip.”
“Nee-tay,” she repeated.
His hand moved higher, tickled her ribs, making her wiggle. “Tucuhu. Ribs.”
“Tu-chu-hu.”
His hand moved higher still, cupping and shaping her breast. “Aze. Breast.”
“A-zay.” She pressed her breast deeper into his hand, his touch kindling that now familiar ache between her thighs.
His fingers found her already puckered nipple, rolling it, flicking it. “Azepikpe. Breast tip.”
She didn’t repeat the word this time, too caught up in what he was doing to her, his lips on her throat, fingers that were strong enough to support his body weight teasing her nipples with such finesse.
His hand left her breast behind, slid down her belly to cup her. Then he slid a finger inside her. “San—vagina.”
“Shan.” She opened her thighs, gave him more room.
He withdrew his finger, spread her wetness over her clit, stroking her just right, until she was going out of her mind.
“I want you inside me.”
“Mmm.” He stopped what he was doing long enough to put on a condom, leaving Naomi hanging.
She moaned in protest.
“Patience.” He caught her right leg, brought it carefully over his thigh, opening her to him. Then he ran his cock between her labia, nudged her clit with the tip, circled the entrance to her vagina with the head. “Ce—penis.”
“Che.” Her left hand was clenched in the sheets now, her hips tilted to ease his entry, her body aching for penetration, the anticipation all but unbearable.
He slid inside her with a single, slow thrust, burying himself until she could feel his testicles against her. “You are … perfect.”
Oh, God, it felt good.
Naomi closed her eyes, gave herself over to the sensation of him moving inside her, one slow, deep thrust after the other, his cock stretching her, filling her.
He nuzzled her ear, nipped her earlobe, his free hand returning to caress her breasts, palming their sensitive tips, every flick of a nipple sending shivers of pleasure all the way to her womb. “Cante skuye. Lila wiyan waste. Tecíhila yelo.”
She had no idea what he was saying, the words whispered against her skin, his big body seeming to enfold hers, the scents of sex and sage surrounding her, his rhythm slow and relentless. “Chaska, please!”
She wanted his hand between her thighs, knew he could push her over the brink and extinguish the fire inside her if only he would do to her clit what he was doing to her nipples. But his hand stayed where it was, and so she lay there on her side, feeling deliciously helpless, with him thrusting into her from behind … so … slowly.
In. Oh, yes. Out. More. In. God, yes. Out.
Oh, she couldn’t take this.
Climax took her by surprise, a slow tidal wave that surged through her, rising higher and higher, drowning her in pleasure, before leaving her, breathless and panting, in Chaska’s arms.
Her climax seemed to push him over the edge, his body tensing as he finished with a few deep, hard thrusts.
For a time—Naomi couldn’t say how long—they lay as they were, Chaska’s heart pounding ag
ainst Naomi’s shoulder, their breathing returning to normal.
Then he chuckled, nuzzled her hair. “Are you ready for your test?”
Chaska unlocked the door to his workshop, flipped on the light, and stood back while Naomi made her way inside. She was doing her best to be cheerful, to act like today was just another day, but Chaska knew where her mind was. She was thinking about the medicine wheel and the news she might get from Pine Ridge.
“Wow! This is nice.” She sounded genuinely surprised.
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know—cobwebs, spiders, empty potato chip bags.”
“It’s an engineer’s workshop, not a slob’s man cave.”
“Oh! You have your own lathe.” She moved over to look at the machine, which sat on the main work table against the back wall.
“It’s actually a combination lathe, mill, and drill.”
“Cool! That must have been expensive.”
“That’s why I drive a crappy, old pickup. I spend all my money on climbing gear and tools to make climbing gear.” There were tens of thousands of dollars in tools locked in chests and cupboards and hanging from hooks on the walls.
She gave a little laugh. “I know the feeling. Other women drool over clothes, shoes, and handbags, but I daydream about tools and storage space. I don’t want Manolo Blahniks. I want a fancy, new stone-setting kit or a set of wire-shaping pliers.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
She made her way over to the smaller workbench and picked up a bit of twisted steel. “What’s this?”
“That is my latest attempt to create a better wheel-locking mechanism for our rescue litters like the one you rode in.” He told her how attaching an ATV wheel to the bottom of the litters, which had been an innovation on its own, wasn’t easy, especially if the victim didn’t hold still or if it was very cold. “Your fingers freeze against that metal while you’re trying to get the wheel locked into place. When every minute counts, it sucks to waste four or five minutes under the litter, fighting with the lock.”
“You want to make it easier and faster.”