“May I join you for a moment? The new girl I hired while Clay has been spending time with his nephews is working out beautifully.”
Sally took a sip of her tea and closed her eyes to the soothing honey sweetness Betty had added on her own. “This hits the spot, thanks, Betty. How’s Jerry doing?”
Betty pressed her palms to the table and let out a small sigh. “I can’t believe it’s almost been a month since his stroke. Fortunately, doctors don’t feel there will be any permanent damage. He’s regaining his strength and it had a mild effect on his speech, but that’s also improving.”
“That’s wonderful news. It could have been so much worse.”
Betty nodded and looked out the window. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “It would have been if not for Clay’s quick thinking and how fast the EMT’s got to Jerry to the Billings Clinic. Doctors said he was lucky. His stroke was caused by a clot, and they managed to use tPA within the time needed for it to be effective.”
“Tissue Plasminogen Activator,” Sally interjected. “I did some research on it as dad’s health declined.”
“That’s what they called it, yes. I call it a miracle.” Betty fisted her hands in front of her. “Jerry had angels surrounding him that night for certain. I’m so grateful… we both are.”
“How’s his rehab going?”
Betty chuckled. “I’m sure they are ready to get rid of him. He’s an ornery old coot. He keeps the staff and nurses in stitches, so they tell me. He may have to use a cane for balance, at least for a time. But they say he should be able to be back to work by summer.”
Sally teared up and reached out to squeeze Betty’s hand. “Jerry had a lot of prayers going up for him, and for you, too, Betty.”
She nodded. “That’s true. You know some folks might enjoy being able to blend into the woodwork, to enjoy their anonymity, but I don’t know. I feel maybe they miss out on the benefit of a close-knit community.”
Sally thought of the numerous times she’d despised End of the Line for that very reason—choosing to see it from the life-in-a-fishbowl status, rather than as ‘close-knit.’
“And you, baby doll? How are you?” Betty patted Sally’s hand. “How did your evening with Clay Saunders go? I haven’t had the chance to ask. He certainly seems to be adjusting well to our little town.”
Sally took another sip, stalling with her answer. Her stomach suddenly felt queasy. She hated to think what some of her ‘close-knit’ neighbors would think of her clandestine affair with Clay for the express purpose of having a child. “It was a pleasant evening.” Sally smiled. “And we raised a lot of money for Miss Ellie, which was the best part of the evening.” She chose to set aside her personal opinion on what was really the best part of the evening for her. “You know, maybe I will take a piece of that pie to go. Oh, and maybe some soup? What do you have on today?”
“Your favorite,” Betty beamed. “Potato Wild Rice.” She stood, wiping her hands on her apron. “I need to get ready for the supper crowd, anyway. Let me box that up for you.”
Sally gathered her coat and purse, turning when she heard the bell over the door and saw Rein and Liberty walk inside. She’d spoken a couple of times on the phone to Liberty, but hadn’t seen her since the sad news. Liberty caught Sally’s gaze and walked over. The two shared a warm embrace, and Sally held her friend tight. No words were spoken. None were needed. She saw Rein standing near and reached for him, pulling him close.
“It’s going to be okay, Sal. It’s going to be okay,” he whispered as he hugged her.
“It’s so good to see you guys,” she said, moving aside so they could sit down.
“I was ready to get out of the house a little bit.” Liberty smiled, touching Rein’s arm. “Everyone is meeting here for supper. I needed a change of scenery.”
“Why don’t you join us?” Rein suggested, helping his wife out of her coat.
Sally loved the thoughtful gesture which, in her opinion, set apart the Kinnsion men in comparison to many others these days. She shook her head. “May I take a raincheck? I’ve got a night of entering grades ahead of me. They have to be in before Friday.”
Rein nodded and checked his watch. “We decided to come in early before it gets too crowded.”
Sally grinned. “Welcome to my world. Teachers and senior citizen’s hour. Best time to get a seat.”
“Is Clay joining us?” Liberty asked with a not-so-subtle glance at Sally.
“He was going to try. He took his nephews back to the airport today. Their flight was four-thirty, I think.” He turned to Sally. “Did you meet those two? Good kids. They love their uncle, that’s for sure.”
She shrugged. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance.” She felt an odd disconnect that Clay had spent the last week with his nephews, but she hadn’t met them. School in End of the Line, however, was still in session. Even so, there was no real reason she should expect him to make the effort to introduce them to her. They weren’t exactly dating. Not even really close friends. It was kind of depressing in truth. “Hey, you all have a wonderful supper. See you soon.” She waved goodbye, picked up her supper, and as she pulled from the parking spot, noticed Clay’s truck turning the corner in her rearview mirror.
She sighed. Maybe it was best that their lives seemed on opposite paths, their lives intersecting only in brief moments of monumental sexual bliss. Yeah, hard to put that too far on the back burner.
Two days later, Sally sat in front of her laptop at her kitchen island. Stacks of papers surrounded her. She removed the reading glasses she sometimes used when working on the computer for extended periods of time. She glanced at her tea cup, then the microwave clock, taken aback when she noticed it was past eleven o’clock. Pushing her hair back, she stretched her arms overhead, working a kink out of her lower back. She hadn’t eaten, forgotten actually while focusing on getting her grades entered before the Easter break.
She walked over and placed her cup in the microwave, then punched in sixty seconds. Fifty. Forty. Thirty. Sally blinked at the realization that one minute had passed from her life. Gone forever. She stared at the numbers, seeing the stark reality of her life equated in a digital countdown.
An insistent sound pulled her from her reverie. There was a knock on her back door. Curious, she stood on tiptoe to look through the peephole and then opened the door.
Clay stood there looking at her. Fresh snowflakes glittered in his dark hair.
“Is that fried chicken I smell?” She nodded toward the bag in his hand.
“Probably my coat. It was hanging in the back while I was cooking.” He held up the bag. “Late night snack?”
She took the bag. “I haven’t eaten. Come on in.”
“Are you feeling okay? Betty mentioned the other night that you didn’t feel well.”
She placed the bag on the counter. Her tea had finished and she took it out. Suddenly the food didn’t hold the same appeal as when he was holding it.
“Clay.”
“Sally,” they said in unison, then laughed.
“Did you stop by just to bring me chicken?” she asked, wrapping her hands around the warm mug to stabilize her nerves.
“I don’t want to lie to you,” he said.
“Then don’t.”
“And I don’t want to frighten you if you’re not ready to hear what I have to say.”
She tightened her grip, bracing for the inevitable. He wanted out of the contract. It was clear that spending time with his nephews had made him realize what he had. He was going to go back to California.
“I love you.”
The mug slipped from her grasp, shattering to the floor.
“Jesus,” he said with a sigh. “That’s how I thought you might react. Sorry about the cup.” He bent down to pick up the bigger shards at her feet as her brain puttered to jump start from its immediate shutdown.
She tapped his shoulder.
He glanced at her, stood, and tossed the broken pieces in the trash. He washed his hands.<
br />
“Did you say—?”
“I love you? Yes, Sally, I did.” He wiped his hands on a dishtowel.
She hadn’t moved. Couldn’t, actually. Her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth. Even more when he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the back door.
“You need to get a broom to pick up the small pieces. Be careful going barefoot in there until you do.” He started to leave.
What the hell? “Wait a second,” she said, finally finding her voice as she grabbed his coat sleeve. “You come in here and drop that bomb, then don’t even give me a chance to say how I feel about all this?”
He eyed her, then looked away, before speaking. “I don’t expect a response, Sally. I just felt I needed to tell you. I wasn’t sure how’d you feel about continuing with your plan.” He blew out a weary sigh. “I thought maybe you’d need to find someone… more detached.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. But I’ve been thinking a lot about this and, well, that’s what I concluded. I love you, plain and simple. You may think I’m crazy.” He raised a brow and shrugged. “Pretty certain you wouldn’t be the first.”
“And in all this consideration you’ve done, did it ever occur to you what it was I needed?”
“I only know what you’ve told me, Sally, and that is you want a baby.”
“I do, if its meant to be, but I want you, Clay.”
He shrugged again. “In my defense, you could do a hell of a lot worse than me… wait—what?”
“I said, shut up and kiss me.” She framed his face. Those exquisitely beautiful green eyes held hers.
“I want to be clear, Sally.” He paused, searching her eyes. “I need to know this… whatever it is, is more than just sex. He tossed her an impish grin. “Don’t get me wrong. Sex with you has been off the charts. But I want more. I always have. I wasn’t looking for this…you. But, I know I’ve never felt—”
“I love you, too,” she interrupted.
That silenced him. She smiled and kissed him softly. “I love you.”
He picked her up and held her tight against his chest. She hugged his neck.
She showered him with kisses as he tried to navigate down the narrow corridor to the stairway. She sat on the steps watching as he carefully hung up his coat and then leaned over, brushing his mouth to hers. His hand inched beneath her camisole, slowly stripping away her inhibitions, replaced by a familiar raw hunger that he brought out in her. Holding her close, he slipped his hand between her thighs, drawing her to another high, floating on pure sensory overload. She lay back on the stairs, her clothes askew, wanting him—surrendering her body to whatever the future with him entailed.
“Race you upstairs,” he said, grinning against her mouth
Sally didn’t think sex could get much better with Clay, until she realized they were making love. He wanted to be there, wanted her as much as she wanted him. Having a child with him had taken on an entirely different meaning. They hadn’t used contraception. Hadn’t talked about it.
“Clay?” Sally lay curled beneath him, cradled beneath his arm. She traced her finger over the heart-shaped flag and dog tag tattoo over his heart.
“Yeah,” he replied sleepily, his eyes shut.
“About having a child.”
He opened one eye and looked at her. “I still want kids, don’t you?”
Surprised by his sudden response, she smiled. “Yes, of course. I want your kids.”
“Our kids.” He shifted to face her, brushing her hair over her shoulder, before he leaned down to kiss the warm flesh.
“Our kids,” Sally repeated. She marveled how life could change so fast. It was like something Michael was always saying, “Sometimes you just have to grip the reins tight and hang on for the ride.” She touched the tattoo. “What do all the dog tags represent?”
He glanced down, took her hand and kissed it before placing it once more over his heart. “There’s one for every member of my team that day. I was riding on top of the armored vehicle. We were checking for civilians in a bombed city. None of us saw the rocket grenade until it was too late. I was blown off in the blast. The teams behind us were able to fall back. The truck carrying the launcher took off. We responded, but there were a lot of wounded soldiers needing attention.”
Sally searched his face, seeing in his eyes the moment relived. “How awful, Clay. I’m sorry seems too trite of a word.”
He blinked as though pulling himself back to the present. He looked directly at her. “Aside from doctors, I’ve never told anyone what happened that day.”
She wrapped her arms around him, wanting nothing more than to be close, to let him take comfort in her embrace, to know that it mattered to her what he’d been through, even though she’d never fully understand.
***
Sweat poured down his face. Desert heat consumed him. Dust filled his lungs. He swiped the grit from his eyes, hoping to stave off the incessant stinging from the sweat droplets trickling into his eyes. Keep your eyes moving. He searched the low clay walls, pockmarked by mortar rounds. The village appeared deserted, but you never knew what might be hiding behind the blown-out building that once housed a family. A movement caught his eye. He called to the driver, leaning forward to point out the small boy darting down a narrow path. He held his hand up to caution the team behind when a flash blinded him. He felt himself propelled off the vehicle, saw the cloudless blue sky whiz past him. There was no feeling. No pain. His body slammed against the hard, clay ground like a rag doll tossed away by an angry child. All around him were small fires. His team, four men and a woman, lay motionless, many no longer recognizable, mangled pieces scattered across the sand. He looked down and in a haze saw another soldier working frantically on him, trying to tie off what was left of his leg. He had no right to live. No right.
Clay heard the sound of his own screams as he woke from the nightmare. It was dark, he couldn’t see. He felt the someone’s hands, shaking him and he lashed out to push them away.
“Clay, wake up! Wake up! It’s Sally. You’re safe, Clay. You’re safe at home.”
A soft light switched on. He blinked, his brain slowly realizing where he was. His body ached. His muscles were tense. He rubbed the heels of hands over his eyes, hoping to dissipate the images floating in his brain.
“Here.” Sally, dressed in a pale pink bathrobe with cartoon kittens all over it, handed him a glass of water and a hand towel.
“Jesus, Sally, I’m sorry.” He pushed upright, the sheets pooled around his hips, and surveyed the tangle of sheets. “Did I do that?” He looked at her, fear gripping his chest, realizing how much he must have thrashed around. “Did I hurt you?”
She sat on the bed, her legs curled under her. She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing his heart back to a normal pace. “I’m good.” He sighed. “I’m good.” He glanced at her. “I haven’t had one of those in a while.”
“A nightmare?”
He nodded.
“You seemed to be trying to tell someone something. I couldn’t tell what you were saying.”
Clay knew. And it didn’t matter now.
“I’m sorry, Clay, for all you’ve been through, for all that you’ve sacrificed.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Yeah, I’m the lucky bastard who got to come home, Sally.”
She pressed her lips and said nothing. Just squeezed his hand.
“I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault.”
“I know. Maybe there is a reason you were spared.”
“Yeah, maybe. I keep telling myself that. But I haven’t figured out a good enough reason yet.” His throat parched, he drank the water in one long swallow, then ran the towel over his head and neck. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.” He glanced around, realizing it was getting lighter outside. “What time is it?”
Sally smiled softly. “I’m not sorry, Clay. I want to be there for you when
things get hard. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count.” She reached over and slanted the blinds so that the sun’s early rays peeked through. “It’s past seven on a beautiful Saturday morning. And by now, everyone who has driven by has seen your truck parked on the street and has put two and two together. So, today,” she said, crawling over to kiss him lightly, “I’m making you breakfast. How’s that for defying the rumor mill?”
The view from his vantage point had him thinking to hell with the rumor mill. He tugged her close, kissing that lovely mouth as he loosened the robe tie. The nightmares of his past might surface now and again, but having the sanctuary of Sally’s arms, her honesty and compassion, brought him a peace he’d never known. He pressed his hand against her cheek. “Maybe you should let me cook,” he murmured, searching those entrancing eyes. Her robe slipped off one shoulder as she pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. “We’ll see who can get downstairs faster when we’re through.”
He raised a brow and turned her beneath him. “Challenge accepted.”
***
Clay hadn’t been able to stop grinning for three days straight. Michael just shook his head when Clay would occasionally break into a whistle while doing chores. He and Rein had gone back to work on the remodel project in his basement. Life was good. Their relationship—what it had been elevated to—was no longer a secret in town. And the Kinnison clan couldn’t have been any happier.
He drew his pencil from behind his ear to mark the spot where he’d measured twice for the island countertop that Liberty had requested for the downstairs.
“I want everyone to be able to gather here,” she had told him and Rein before she went to meet Angelique. The two were going shopping for Angelique’s and Dalton’s baby, due in early summer.
Clay had seen all types of courage in his day, but Liberty’s selfless gesture to help her sister-in-law ranked right up there with the best. “She is one strong woman,” Clay told Rein after she’d left.
Rein glanced at him and nodded. “She’s been through a lot. Guess maybe she’s seems strong because of it. It hasn’t been easy on either of us, but she’s been a rock for me throughout this whole ordeal.” He offered a dim smile to Clay. “I’ll be glad when we can try again. Doc says give it a couple of months.” Rein sighed. “I just want to be able to give her everything she deserves. The woman is selfless, loving, and she’ll make a great mom. You should see how her face lights up around Gracie.”
No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) Page 14