by Neva Brown
Tres twined his finger around a lock of her silky auburn hair. “You’re probably right. The vet goes by to check on Sassy every few days. He says she is perfectly normal and right on target with the pregnancy development. I suspect he encourages the pampering. Sassy’s recovery is pretty much his claim to fame.”
They sat in companionable silent with only the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace. Casey knew she should be a more entertaining hostess but it felt so good to just sit and be by Tres. She’d stay still for just a little longer then go finish dinner preparations. Then she remembered and said, “I almost forgot to tell you, I brought in your laptop and cell phone. They’re on the table by the front door.”
“Thanks, they probably wouldn’t fare too well out in this cold. I should check the messages, I guess. Rosalinda has probably called to tell me how Mattie Lou is doing.”
Casey frowned. “Has she been ill?”
Tres dropped his hand to rub the palm across her slender shoulder, telling himself to keep his mind on what they were talking about. “No, she’s fine and just recently back from Scotland. She brought two women with her. One is a cousin about her age who has trouble with arthritis, too. It seems the Scottish weather was dealing them both misery. They decided to come to Cielo Alto for a while and go through a series of treatments at the clinic. The other woman who came is the one who traveled to Scotland with Mattie Lou earlier. She’s the artist that does a lot of traveling. She decided she would stay around for a while and paint West Texas landscapes.”
“How does the cousin like ranch life?”
Tres chuckled. “They haven’t even tried it. Mattie Lou said they needed to be close to town. They had too much to do to be on the road going to and from the ranch all the time. They’re settled at MacVane Manor. Rudy and/or Greta show up once in a while to get something Mattie Lou wants from the ranch, but Mattie Lou hasn’t been out herself.”
Casey tucked a leg up under her and twisted to face Tres. “Do you suppose the ranch reminds her too much of J.D.?”
“Maybe, but I believe she is probably just enjoying the companionship of other women her age. I think she had so immersed herself in taking care of J.D. that she had lost touch with doing things with friends just for pleasure. Evidently she found that while she was in Scotland and doesn’t want to lose it again.”
Casey smiled and stretched. “I’m sitting here being lazy and letting you entertain me when you’re probably starving. I thought we’d have an early dinner since you missed lunch.”
He glanced out the window. “I’d planned to take you out to dinner, but I guess that is not a very good plan in this kind of weather.”
She stood. The velvety turquoise sheath dress settled softly over her sleek body, leaving only the tip of her soft leather shoes showing. Her long silver necklace and dangling earring caught the light from the fireplace, glittering as if winking at him. She held out her hand to him. “Come to the kitchen with me while I finish up so we can eat.”
Tres watched her take roasted beef out of the oven, then place bread and apple pie in it to warm. Not a hint of the once-impaired coordination was evident. He should offer to help, but just watching her move made him feel good. She arranged the meat on a platter with potatoes, carrots, and onions. The tantalizing aroma of the food filled the room and made his mouth water.
With a quick survey, after everything was on the table, she invited him to sit. He stepped around the table and pulled out her chair before sitting down himself. He took it all in.
Colorful salad, thick slices of home-baked bread, the platter of roast beef and vegetables, and freshly made apple pie.
“This brings a whole new meaning to food and shelter from the storm,” he said. In more ways than one. Being with Casey is his food and shelter of a whole different kind. Feeding his soul and bringing him peace. That is, if the testosterone humming in his body that threatened to become a roar can be called peace.
“I know what you mean. My stay here has given me new insight on things I’ve never given much thought to before like food and shelter. I never realized how much effort it takes keep all the loose ends gathered up.”
As they served themselves, Casey told Tres about the man who owned the house being a freelance travel writer who traveled to places all over the world. In-between bites she told how his various cookbooks had made her learn-to-cook project an international adventure full of mishaps and messes.
Tres relished the food right along with the lighthearted lilt of Casey’s voce. “Did you find that you liked food from other countries?”
“Some of it was okay, but simple fare suits my taste buds best of all, but I had fun trying other things.” She replenished the water in their glasses while she talked. “Another eclectic thing I found is his library.” She cut a piece of roast neat and tidy and took a bite.
Tres watched the subtle movement of her lips How awesome would her mouth would feel moving against his with the same little motions it was making as she chewed? He slammed the door on those thoughts and said, “I found an unbelievable library in an old house on a station I bought when I first went to Australia. I stayed there for several months with no TV reception and very poor radio reception. I really got good use out of those books.”
“Did you take them with you when you left?”
He shook his head as he swallowed. “No, by then we’d refurbished the house for the station manager and his family to live in. I figured they’d enjoy having them. Have you read many of your landlord’s books?”
“I did after I’d been here a while. I brought that hated reading machine with me knowing I had to make myself do the exercises if I planned to recoup my reading skills. I set it up on the mezzanine where all his books are shelved. One day when I was sick and tired of those monotonous exercise readings, I picked up a paperback on top of a stack that had not been shelved but haphazardly put by the table my machine sat on.”
Tres love the mischievous grin that played across her lips and the slight rise in color to her face. “From the way you look, it must have caught your interest.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Not ever having time for recreational reading, I found out I’d missed a genre, that, uh, turned out to be one that added a whole new dimension to my education.”
He raised an eyebrow. “For a PhD, that’s quite an admission. What was it?”
“It was a mystery romance novel that my travel writer landlord wrote under a pseudonym. Actually all the books in the stack were his. I didn’t read far before I knew why he’d used a pseudonym. Risqué is a mild word for some of the action. Anyway, my reading speed and reduction in regression spiraled. By the time I finished those books, I could ace every practice sheet on that miserable machine. I felt like I’d defeated an arch enemy.”
Food disappeared as they talked. Finally she offered him apple pie and coffee.
“How about I help you clean up the kitchen and work off some of the calories I consumed? Maybe after, I can really enjoy pie and coffee. I can’t remember when food tasted so good.”
Teasing, Casey said, “You do know we wash and dry dishes by hand around here.”
Rolling up his sleeves, he said, “I think I can hold up my end of the deal.” He started running water into the sink all the while thinking he needed to take a look at those books that made Casey’s face glow and put that naughty sparkle in her eyes.
With the kitchen back in order, Tres rolled his shirtsleeves down and held her close. Her moving around, putting things away, and brushing against him at times like a kitten that needed petting, had tested his mettle about not rushing his fences. He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Let’s go sit by the fire.” He felt her yield to his touch and heard her breath quicken.
Then she backed away. “I’ll bring the pie and coffee.”
He reined in his unruly libido and searched for a benign subject that fit with apple pie. Got it! “Do you go to the church services where you do counseling?”
Casey handed him a napkin as he picke
d up his pie. “I do most Sundays. The first time I went I was still restless, not really knowing what to do with myself. The pastor’s sermon came from Psalm 46:10-11. It seemed to speak to me. Then that night, an unpredicted snowstorm came. About two o’clock in the morning when I woke up for some reason and looked out the window, it had been snowing for some time.
Huge, light, feathery flakes drifted down, lazy as a summer day. I put the afghan around my shoulders and stepped out onto the deck and into a silent, still wonderland. The moon came through the drifting clouds and lit up the snow-covered ground and branches of the statue-still pines. The stillness all around was spellbinding. The sparkling, pure white magical world had an unearthly glow, then the clouds moved over the moon. Ink-black dark came. The still, pure silence held me transfixed. A whisper of a breeze touched me like icy fingers making me shiver. I scurried back into the house knowing I had shared a moment of perfection.”
She sighed as Tres pulled her close. What he would have given to have shared that once-in-a-lifetime moment with her. He put his chin on top of her auburn hair luxuriating in its soft, fragrant warmth. Tres held her close, absorbing the serenity she wrapped him in.
Chapter 22
Their coffee had long since grown cold before they stirred from that cocoon of serenity that seemed so right after Casey’s poignant revelation about that special night when her world had found a mooring. Finally, she slipped out of his arms and went to the kitchen, taking the tray of cold coffee and pie. Returning with fresh, steaming coffee and warmed pie, she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of Tres. “This time eat your pie and drink your coffee,” she ordered.
Sitting on the raised heath, she did just what she’d ordered him to do, but soon poured the remains of her coffee into the fire and watched it sizzle before turning to him. “We’ve talked about everything but you. You seem different someway. You seem troubled. Can I help?”
He set his empty dessert plate and coffee cup on the tray then stood. He moved close and reached out for her hand. “Yes, you’re the only one who can help. Come sit by me and let me tell you a story.” He smiled and pulled her down beside him, snuggling her close with her head on his chest and her arm around his waist. “This feels so right.” The slight, soft movement of her hand, like a caress, set sparks shimmering through his blood.
Casey could hear the rumble in his chest as he said, “Ever since I was a kid, the Running S has been my sanctuary, the place where I felt whole and happy. But the last few months I’ve found myself going from one activity to the other, as if I’d misplaced something. At first I thought the true impact of J.D.’s death might just be hitting me. Then, one day I realized what was wrong. You weren’t there anymore.”
“But I haven’t really lived on the Running S in years.”
“That may be true, but I’ve associated you with the ranch ever since you were thirteen and trying so hard to be thirty.”
Casey heard the smile in his voice when he mentioned the memory. “I’m not far from that thirty now.” With a self-deprecating sigh, she said, “and for almost half of those years I’ve clung to the old saying that ‘All things come to those who wait’.”
And I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?” He leaned over and feathered kisses from her temple to her shoulder where he slipped the velvety fabric away to touch his lips to the warm creamy skin. He luxuriated in the subtle fragrance of spice and something else uniquely Casey. He felt the hitch in her breath and let his hands roam a little more freely, seeking out more spots that made her purr.
He talked, hopefully, keeping her mind busy as he slid one hand under her to reach the tiny tongue of the zipper on her dress that had tempted him all evening. “That summer you were thirteen, I came to feel like something of a big brother to you. But when I came back last year, you had become an intriguing woman. I felt guilty because my feelings were no longer that brotherly.” He felt her start at the soft whir of the zipper, then heard her quiet sigh as he flattened his palm on her bare back. “After you got hurt, I wanted to protect you, then as you recovered, my body kept reminding me how it wanted, needed, to be with you.” With a thumb and finger he unhooked the satiny bra and let his hand glide down her spine with the zipper in tow.
Casey couldn’t remember when she put her arms around him, but as his warm, calloused palm made slow circles at the tip of her spine, she placed both hands on his face and urged his lips to hers. As he deepened the kiss she let her hands slide across the warm muscles that rippled under his shirt, then smoothed her hands along his sides and laid them flat on his chest to feel his heart beat strong and steady. As she skimmed her hands across, she felt him catch his breath. It was true what the books said, the hard little nipples on his chest were sensitive to the touch, too. Just to be sure, she did it again and looked up at him.
She felt her face heat when he grinned at her and said, “Turnabout’s is fair play, you know?” as he laid her back on the couch, expertly sliding her dress and bra down as they went. Angling his body halfway across, he peppered tiny kisses on her face as his hands cuddled her breasts and his thumbs teased the pebble-hard nipples.
Straightening, he scooped her up in his arms. In the bedroom he slacked his arm under her legs and let her slide down against him until her feet touched the floor in front of the low-burning fire in the fireplace. Stepping back he let her dress and bra fall to the floor and pool at her feet. Her turquoise satin panties shimmered in the glow of the fire.
When she instinctively raised her hands to cover her breast, he said, “Please, no, you are exquisite.”
Casey, watching his eyes gleam hot and proprietary, felt heat coil deep inside and expand to make her body throb. She reached for him and with a self-conscious chuckle said, “Didn’t you mention turn about being fair play?”
Tres gave thanks for her little chuckle and pulled her snug against him, his hard desire pressed firmly against her firm yet soft abdomen. “Only if you help take my boots off”, he teased as he eased them toward the bed and sat down. Keeping his hands around her waist, he looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. “I dare you.”
Seeing the challenge in his eyes, she turned, bent over, tucking his leg between her knees and tugged, one boot then two. As she straightened, she felt his hands on her hips sliding her panties down. Twisting around, she gaped. There he sat his shirt off looking gorgeous and his jeans open and slipped down to his legs.
“If you’ll pull them off, we’ll be even, don’t you think?” Before she could move, he laughed, grabbed her and tumbled them onto the bed as he kicked his jeans away.
He gentled and stroked her with featherlike touches until she purred. “My beautiful, courageous Casey, let me love you, take you to paradise.”
She circled him with hesitant arms as she whispered, “You do know, I’ve never been there before. I’ve been waiting for you to show me the way.”
“Don’t you worry; we’ll blaze our very own path there and travel it again and again so we’ll never forget the way.” He soon set the course with a rocking rhythm that Casey matched with instincts as old as time.
As the moon began to dip toward the west, creating soft shadows across the bedroom, Tres eased away from Casey, who slept snug against his side with her head pillowed on his shoulder. He found his pants on the floor near the bed and took the small chamois pouch out of a pocket. Loosening the drawstring, he slid the three-carat blue-white diamond ring out. He slipped back beneath the down comforter and gathered Casey into his arms once again. She stirred, opened her eyes, and smiled at him.
“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up,” she whispered and wiggled closer.
“It’s no dream.” He smiled at the tousled, sexy-looking Casey. Knowing she had never looked this way before ignited territorial pride. No other man had been with her as he had.
“I got a little sidetracked earlier, but I have something I want to ask you.”
Casey rose up on one elbow. Sleepiness and a touch of fear c
louded her eyes. Before she spoke, Tres sat up and took her hand, pulling her up to him.
“Casey Mason, will you marry me?” He held the ring between a thumb and a finger. “I brought this for you hoping you’d say ‘yes’.”
Now bright-eyed, Casey glanced at the ring but stared again at his face with adoration. She offered a barely audible “Oh, yes.”
Forgetting the sheet she held in front of her, she lifted both hands to his cheeks. Her lips sought his with both surrender and unknowing demand.
He groaned with desire, hugging her close and pressing her bare breasts against his chest. His blood heated, dragging at his control, but he forced himself to ease his hold on her and take her left hand. “Let’s see if this fits.”
It fit and they fit. Pledging their love to each other for all time to come, they rode the tide of sexual excitement of true lovers to the pinnacle, then soared to mindless rapture as one once again.
Sleep claimed an exhausted Casey while Tres pondered the completeness that claimed him. What he had called love had been a pale shade of what he felt for Casey. Every atom of his mind, soul, and body communed with her. The vacant spot in his heart overflowed. He hated to sleep for fear the feeling would slip away.
In that snow-clad cabin in the mountains of New Mexico, he and Casey made love, ate, made love, bathed, made love, talked, made love, and slept, made love while the sun and moon peeped in and tiptoed out again and again.
Hating the thought of having to share each other with the world, they reluctantly made plans. The decorous self-discipline they had abandoned for a wrinkle in time slipped back into place. Casey made phone calls to get her business in shape to leave her mountain retreat while Tres answered phone calls that had come in on his cell, at the same time scanning e-mails on his laptop.
Ten days after Tres had come to her, Casey locked the door of the cabin and turned to him. “It’s a little sad leaving, isn’t it?”