A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  He shouldn’t want her this much. He shouldn’t want anybody this much.

  He was glad when they reached his truck. He opened the passenger door for her and stepped back to let her climb in.

  But she didn’t climb in. She turned around, faced him.

  They were standing so close he could feel her breath and see the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her thin black sweater.

  “I wish you were still a bad boy,” she said quietly, her face tilted up to his, her wide brown eyes meeting his and holding.

  “Why?” he asked, his fingers itching to push her long blonde hair back from her face so he could caress the sweep of her high cheekbone, and the beautiful line of her jaw.

  “Because then you could make me forget today.”

  Colton swallowed hard, and counted to five before trusting himself to speak. “I’m not even going to go there, darlin’. It’s bad enough you’ll wake up with a headache. You don’t need to wake up with a bunch of regrets.”

  “My only regret is that I’ve never had what I always wanted to have.” Her lips curved but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You.”

  “You don’t want me, babe.”

  She reached out and placed a light hand on his chest, her fingers shaking. Her voice shook, too. “I’ve wanted you my whole life.”

  He didn’t remember moving. He didn’t mean to move toward her. He certainly didn’t intend to kiss her. But suddenly his head dipped, blocking the moon, and his lips covered hers.

  She shuddered as the touch of his mouth and something wild and fierce swept through him, and he drew her against him, close, so close, that he could feel the soft crush of her breasts against his chest and her tremulous breath as she inhaled.

  “Easy,” he murmured as her breath hitched, and then unable to help himself, he wrapped an arm around her, his hand low on her hips, his palm cupping her butt, urging her even closer because he couldn’t remember the last time a woman felt this right in his arms, or a kiss made him feel this good.

  When he finally let her go a few minutes later, they were both breathing hard and Jenny’s brown eyes were huge, and her lips were soft, and almost bruised.

  “Wow,” she whispered, blinking at him, expression dazed.

  He swallowed hard. God help him, but he felt the exact same way.

  “I better get you home,” he said gruffly, aware that if he didn’t take her home now, she wouldn’t be going home tonight. He’d be taking her somewhere private, somewhere that had a big bed and a door that locked, and a Do Not Disturb sign for the door.

  She nodded once and silently climbed up into his truck.

  Colton walked slowly around to the driver’s seat. He had to walk slow. He needed the time to get his control back.

  Chapter Seven

  Jenny tossed and turned in the twin bunk bed in her childhood bedroom.

  She couldn’t sleep. It was impossible to sleep when she felt so hot and bothered.

  She wasn’t used to feeling this way. She didn’t get hot and bothered. At least, she’d never lost her head with Charles before.

  Charles.

  She shuddered, and drew the covers up to her chin, remembering how he’d barged into Grey’s earlier in the night, as drunk as a skunk, insisting she come back to Chicago with him. Even though he didn’t want to marry her.

  She shuddered again, remembering how he kept grabbing at her, slurring as he talked.

  And then Colton appeared and before she knew it, they were having dinner and talking and she was revealing far too much.

  Colton made her feel far too much.

  Funny how Charles made her feel cool and calm and beautifully composed. But Colton had the opposite effect. Colton stirred her up, made her restless, made her want things. Different things than she’d ever wanted before and the emotions weren’t pleasant. The emotions scared her.

  She turned over again, onto her stomach, clutching her pillow with both arms, humming with awareness. She could still feel Colton’s mouth on hers, still feel the press of his hard body and it made her body tingle. She felt tense and yet alive, her emotions wild, her desires even wilder.

  It was all she could do to stop thinking. It was another hour before she finally fell asleep.

  Jenny woke up to sunlight pouring through cracks in the blinds at her window. She glanced at the clock. Eight twenty. That was late for her to still be in bed.

  Leaving her room, she spotted her parents in the living room, watching the morning news. They were both engrossed in the broadcast and she continued on to the kitchen where she filled a mug with what was left of the coffee.

  Jenny drank her coffee black. She had never liked it black, but Charles told her his best assistants drank only black coffee. It had no calories and was faster to make, with less wasted time stirring in creamers and sweeteners.

  Charles.

  She shook her head, wondering what had possessed her to turn herself inside out to please him. To be perfect for him. Which meant becoming no one… just a pretty, accommodating shell of a woman.

  What an idiot.

  Not just him, but her. She was the one who’d wanted—imagined—that becoming nothing would earn his respect.

  She stared down into her black coffee, the color like thin tar.

  She hated black coffee. It was bitter and nasty and she liked it rich and sweet. She liked flavor and color. Liked things to taste good and feel good—

  Jenny wrenched open the refrigerator door, took the milk from the door, and poured a generous measure into her cup, topping off her coffee. She dumped in a big spoonfull of sugar and then smiled as she stirred, vigorously stirring, swirling the spoon around and around, listening to the metal clink against the ceramic mug, enjoying the scraping sound of the spoon at the bottom of the cup.

  She was going to live this week.

  She was going to savor every moment, suck every ounce of pleasure from her time home before she returned to Chicago, and she hoped that part of the pleasure was seeing Colton again.

  No, he wasn’t safe. Just thinking about him made her pulse quicken and adrenaline race through her.

  He was handsome and tough, and overwhelmingly physical. She didn’t feel calm around him. She felt wild.

  They had no future together but she didn’t need the future. She needed now.

  She needed to live now.

  Jenny was taking her first sip of coffee when her mom entered the kitchen.

  “This was on the doorstep this morning,” her mother said, giving her the envelope with Jenny written on the front.

  Jenny didn’t recognize the handwriting and tore it open.

  Inside was one of her diamond and pearl drop earrings and a note.

  I found the earring on the seat this morning, knew you’d be worried and wanted to get it back to you.

  I’m going to Brock Sheenan’s ranch this morning to look at one of his bulls. Call me if you feel like going. Should be a pretty drive. I’m heading out around nine. Colt

  He’d also scrawled his phone number.

  Jenny looked up to find her mother watching her. She held up the earring. “Colton Thorpe found my earring.”

  “He brought you home last night, didn’t he?” her mother asked, no expression in her voice, or on her face.

  Jenny nodded. “We bumped into him at Grey’s Saloon. And then went to Rocco’s for dinner.”

  “You and the girls? Or you and the girls, and Colton? Or...?”

  “Just Colton and me.” Jenny saw the flicker of emotion in her mother’s eyes that time. “You still don’t like him, do you?”

  Her mother took a second to answer and then chose her words with care. “He earned his reputation for a reason.”

  “That was fourteen years ago.”

  “From what I hear, he hasn’t changed much. He’s not interested in responsibility, or commitments.”

  “Apparently Charles wasn’t either,” Jenny muttered under her breath.

  “Mandy and Charity are
friendly with his sister, Tricia. Colton doesn’t come home often, and yes, he’ll send money home, but he’s left his mother’s care to his sister, and that’s not right. A man takes care of his family. Remember that.”

  It was on the tip of Jenny’s tongue to make a comment about her father, but that would be unkind, and would only create tension so she swallowed the remark and nodded, even as she resented her own values and ethics that had made her so cautious in life. So controlling over her situation.

  Jenny suddenly wanted to be that girl who was free. She wanted to have a wild streak, an impulsive streak, one that allowed her to take risks and be adventurous, and take the path never traveled.

  Her path was so familiar, so very well-traveled that it bored her.

  “Jenny, I know you’re hurt, and hurting,” her mother added, her brow still creased, concern in her dark eyes. “I know you’re searching for answers right now, too, but Colton Thorpe isn’t the right answer. And how do I know that? Because your father was like Colton Thorpe. He was handsome and popular and wildly exciting and I threw everything away to be with him. Do I love your father? Yes. But our lives have not been easy, and there have been regrets. I’m sure you know I’ve had regrets. So just be smart. Think with your head, not your heart, and whatever you do, don’t sleep with him. Don’t let yourself get that close to him. Men like Colton and your father are great in bed, but they’re not men that make good life partners.”

  Jenny had never heard her mother speak so candidly about life or marriage, much less her own difficult marriage, and her mother’s words had weight, and made a significant impression.

  Jenny gave her mother a hug and headed outside to the front porch with her coffee.

  Chance Avenue was relatively quiet this morning. Leaves fell from trees. A dog barked once, twice behind a fence as a little boy shot a basketball through a portable hoop in his driveway.

  She glanced down the street, saw the rows of small houses and cars, but she could see no rusty orange red truck.

  She looked at her watch. Five of nine. It looked like Colton had already left for Brock Sheenan’s ranch.

  Her chest ached a little. She straightened her shoulders. She pretended she felt nothing. It was good that he’d gone. She shouldn’t go. Couldn’t go. Not after everything her mother had said.

  Colton’s phone rang at five minutes to nine. He was at the gas station down the street from the hardware store filling his truck when the phone rang, and as he dug the phone from his back pocket, he thought maybe it was Jenny calling.

  It wasn’t. It was his mom.

  She hoped he hadn’t left for Paradise Valley yet. She’d run out of her favorite pain reliever and hoped he could pick some up at the store.

  “I’m at the gas station right now, and they have a little mini market,” he told her. “As soon as I’m done, I’ll go buy you some and will be home in a few minutes.”

  Off the phone, Colton finished filling the tank and gazed at the steep mountain slopes framing Marietta. Copper Mountain, one of the largest peaks in the Gallatin Range was to the west, with the Absaroka Range to the east. He loved these two ranges, had grown up in their shadow, and he looked forward to this morning’s drive to Brock’s ranch. Fall was beautiful in Montana and the colors were so striking now with their leaves all shades of russet and gold.

  The pump clicked off and he replaced the nozzle, screwed the cap on the tank and headed inside to pay. He picked up the pain killer for his mom, feeling guilty that although he was home, he wasn’t spending more time with her.

  He loved his mother. She’d been a wonderful mother but she wasn’t the same since his father died. His dad had always helped her manage her diabetes, but now that he was gone, Mom wouldn’t help herself. She didn’t like testing her blood glucose. She didn’t like pricking her finger. She didn’t like her insulin injections. She didn’t like eating properly. She didn’t like having diabetes and said she was done trying, done taking care of herself.

  Colton didn’t know how to respond to that.

  He didn’t know what to say or do. He’d tried giving pep talks and encouraging her to get out and meet people. He’d arranged for a special senior shuttle to come by and pick her up and take her places. The shuttle had a lift for her wheelchair and they could make sure she had mobility, but his mom wouldn’t go. His mom wouldn’t leave the house unless he or Tricia took her somewhere, and Colton couldn’t live like that.

  He wouldn’t be chained to helplessness.

  He didn’t believe in controlling someone through guilt and he resented being manipulated.

  So he stopped coming home and he still sent money but it wasn’t the same, he knew it wasn’t.

  As a son, he should be doing more for her. He should be staying in touch better. He should maybe even live here, and have her move in with him.

  He knew it.

  But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t move back here, and he couldn’t fly in every weekend to give Tricia a break. He’d pay for a nurse or attendant, but he wouldn’t become the attendant.

  There were still so many things he wanted in life, so many things he wanted to do and be.

  And so when he did come home, like he was now, he was conflicted. Home wasn’t a simple thing. Coming home always made him feel guilty.

  Jenny was still on the porch with her coffee when Colton drove past in his loud Chevy truck. He spotted her on the porch and then braked, then put his truck into reverse and backed up a few feet until he was in front of her house.

  “’Morning,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “Nice pajamas,” he said, smiling.

  She glanced down at her gray striped leggings and long light blue Sleeping Beauty nightshirt and then smiled up at him. “These are classics found in my bedroom dresser’s bottom drawer.” She couldn’t stop smiling. She was glad to see him. She’d wanted to see him, and Colton had such warm blue eyes, and his teeth looked so white this morning against his golden tan. “Thank you for finding my earring.”

  “I thought about keeping it, but it might have been a bit feminine for me.”

  She laughed out loud. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I am.” He hesitated. “Most definitely.”

  For a moment they just looked at each other and Jenny’s chest grew tight as the silence stretched.

  She wanted to say something. Wanted to tell him something that would keep him here, talking to her, but she had nothing to say. They really had nothing to say to each other. There was no reason for them to talk, or be together.

  Colton seemed to come to the same conclusion. “I better go,” he said after a moment. “I need to drop something off at my mom’s and then get on the road. I promised Brock I’d be there before ten.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  He nodded.

  Her chest ached with bottled air.

  “All right.” He gave her a faint, crooked smile and lifted a hand in farewell.

  Jenny’s eyes burned as he pulled away from the curb.

  Let him go. Let him go.

  She couldn’t let him go.

  “Colton!” She called, moving down the porch steps to the cracked concrete sidewalk.

  He braked, stuck his head out the window, looked back at her. “Yes, princess?”

  Her heart was hammering so hard it felt as if it’d burst. This was stupid. So stupid. She shouldn’t—

  “Can I go with you?” she called to him, her voice too high and thin. But she was nervous. So nervous. “To Brock’s place?” She gulped a breath for courage. “It’s going to be a beautiful day. I’d love to go for the drive. That is, if it’s not too late.”

  Colton’s firm mouth eased. His blue gaze warmed. “It’s never too late. Go change and I’ll be back in a few minutes to scoop you up. How much time do you need? Fifteen? Twenty?”

  She shook her head, already climbing the steps. “Just five.”

  “Just five?”

  She grinned. “We could say four.” />
  He laughed, creases fanning from his eyes. “Big talker.”

  “Time me.”

  “Fine. The clock is ticking now.”

  His mom needed more than five minutes of his time, and Colton didn’t make it back to his truck until nine-thirty.

  Jenny was waiting on her front porch for him, dressed in skinny jeans, leather boots, and a fuzzy oversized caramel-colored sweater that hung half way down to her knees. She’d pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail and looked like a high school cheerleader, young and fresh and very sweet.

  He watched her climb into his truck, thinking it felt right to have her there on the bench seat next to him. It felt so right that it would be easy to lean over and kiss her, as if she was his girl.

  He was ready to kiss her again. He wanted to feel her warmth and softness. Wanted to taste her mouth again. He’d liked kissing her. He’d wanted to keep kissing her last night. Had wanted to kiss all of her and discover her and make her his.

  The last time he’d felt this way about a woman he’d married her.

  And he knew how that turned out.

  Chapter Eight

  Jenny curled up on the bench seat of the truck, enjoying the country music playing on the old truck’s radio and the rugged beauty of the Montana landscape beyond her window painted in strokes of green, yellow, blue, and gold.

  After leaving Highway 89, they’d taken one of the long narrow roads that cut away from the Yellowstone river to wind up through foothills and pastures, with cabins and ranch houses dotting the land on either side.

  The jagged Absarokas already had a little snow dusting the higher peaks and it was predicted that more snow was coming in the next few weeks, but today was dry and fine, with temperatures expected to be in the high sixties to low seventies, not that it’d be that warm on Brock’s ranch, which nestled in the valley tucked deep in the Absaroka Range.

  “Do you know Brock?” Colton asked her as they continued to climb higher in the foothills and the valley spread below them, with the Yellowstone River sparkling like a dark blue ribbon against the gold and green fields.