Masked Cowboy (Men of the White Sandy)

by Anderson, Sarah M.

  He really wasn’t wearing any underwear. He was rock hard under her hands, his eye briefly rolling back into his head as she traced the length of everything he had to offer. But then that erotic rage snapped his head forward and he spun her around, pressing her into the door.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he panted as he fumbled out of his pants. “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Shut up,” she demanded, spreading her legs as far as she could with her pants around her knees. “Shut up right now or I’ll rip that mask—”

  She didn’t get any farther. The panties were no match for him. He burst into her, sliding all the way in, all the way up, filling her as no one and nothing ever had before. The power of the unexpected orgasm shook her like leaves on aspen, and that was just from the first thrust.

  “Oh!” she moaned as she shivered from the safety of his arms.

  He froze. “What? What? I didn’t—I thought—”

  “Jesus Christ, Jacob,” she begged, “don’t stop! Oh God, please don’t stop!”

  With a hungry, guttural moan, he slid in and out of her. He grabbed her hands and moved them back up the door until they were over her head again. But instead of holding them there, he traced back down the length of her arms until he came to her breasts again. He slipped his right hand under the silk cup of her left breast, kneading it with the same savage intensity he had just seconds before.

  With his other hand, he followed the curve of her waist down to her hips, then over to the thick, glossy hair that covered her sex. With a flick of his thumb, he found her spot and began to rub the nub in small circles.

  If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have lost her footing as the second orgasm shook her violently. “Oh!” she screamed this time, unable to control herself under his maddening touches.

  He growled with satisfaction behind her, pushing harder and deeper with each thrust. His hips knocked into hers so hard that her forehead was again bouncing off the door, but she didn’t care as she arched her back, driving her breast more into his hand and raising her bottom up to meet his every demand.

  Then, with one final deep thrust, he froze in silence, his fingers pinching the tip of her nipple, his thumb pressing against her clit, finally surrendering to the promise of freedom she’d offered him. While he came quietly, she couldn’t help but buck in ecstasy one final time with another “Oh!” Suddenly, he was gone from her, leaving her barely able to stand.

  “Jesus Christ, Jacob,” she gasped as she rested her slightly sore forehead against her forearm. “Jesus Christ.”

  He staggered against the door beside her, his eye closed. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted you to stop talking,” he said in a rush. She looked over to him and could see that while the sex had definitely distracted him from the horror house they were in, he was still worried.

  He was worried about her.

  She smiled, wrapping her hand around his waist and pulling him closer so she could kiss his forehead. “Cowboy, anytime you want me to stop talking, you just let me know.”

  “Didn’t anyone tell you I was the Indian?” He smirked as he turned away from her and began to button up his pants.

  Mary Beth pulled what was left of her red silk panties out from between her legs and shoved them into her pocket before she pulled up her own pants. As she started to snap the buttons on her shirt, she realized he was watching her, so she turned to him and slowed down, letting her fingers linger over her curves.

  “Are you sure you’re a doctor?” he asked, sounding a little pissed. The erotic part of the erotic rage had faded, leaving a mildly unpleasant post-coital grump. “They teach you that stuff at doctor school?”

  The wind rushed up again, pushing the door open and knocking her back a step, but he caught her before she stepped on the bloodstain. He shot a sorrowful look at the remains of death, but he didn’t slip back into the panic. Thank God, she thought.

  The door now open, they could see the storm was blowing out. It wasn’t raining anymore, and blue sky was showing behind the angry clouds rushing on to their next unfortunate destination.

  Jacob stepped out into the rain-cleaned air, away from the horrible past he couldn’t forget and the sex he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He stood with his eye closed, letting the wind ruffle his hair. The breeze was lifting the pain from his soul, but in its place was overwhelming confusion.

  God, he wished Susan were here. Susan would be able to tell him what to do about this new mess he’d just screwed his way into.

  The first mess he’d screwed his way into in over eight years.

  He heard Mary Beth clucking to Jezebel. “Oh, sweetie, you’re soaked,” she soothed, and Jacob couldn’t help but smile.

  Even after that, she was still concerned with the animals.

  He suspected he knew what Susan would say. Susan would arch that eyebrow of hers up and say, “If you like her, you should go after her,” just like she’d said in ninth grade right before he’d mustered up the courage to ask her to the dance.

  Susan had been right then, and she’d be right now.

  But this was different. This wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t an awkward, lonely kid with a crush anymore. And Mary Beth had already told every single man in town that she didn’t sleep with clients. Hell, she’d threatened to castrate half of them.

  God, he missed Susan.

  He tried to focus on Susan back in high school, not Susan dying. He didn’t want to dishonor her memory, but hell, it was a little too late for that.

  It was too late the moment I kissed her in there. What the hell was I thinking?

  And he didn’t have any idea what to do next. What if she wanted a relationship? What if she wanted to see his crummy little trailer?

  Holy hell, what if she wanted him to take the mask off?

  The mere thought pissed him off even more. This Mary Beth had gotten under his skin in a vulnerable moment and she could screw everything up. If he was going to start thinking with his dick, there was no telling what would happen with Buck. And what about Kip? His first job was keeping the little girl safe—not taking the pretty vet against a door, of all the crude things to do.

  He couldn’t tell who he was madder at—her or himself.

  Focus. Focus on the animals.

  He turned towards Mick. Mary Beth was right, the horses were soaked, but they didn’t seem any worse for wear. Good ol’ Mick had already found some grass to eat.

  As they sopped off the saddles, Mary Beth looked at him and batted her eyes just like a girl wearing a red bra would. “That was really good, you know.”

  He snorted but couldn’t stop himself from cautiously peeking at her over the edge of his mask to see if she really meant it or if she was just mocking him.

  She froze, and he knew he shouldn’t have looked. Here it comes, he thought as he braced himself.

  “You know that, right? You know you were amazing?”

  He shrugged, determined not to give her any more leverage.

  “Jacob, haven’t you done this before?”

  He snorted again. “Not like that. I assume you have.”

  She recoiled in shock and he could have kicked himself. Shit. Only making it worse.

  But after an agonizing second, she shrugged as she casually replied, “I’ve had my share of men. And just so you know, I’m on the pill and I’ve been tested. I usually use condoms…”

  Condoms. God, when was the last time he’d thought about condoms? “Didn’t have one in your pack there?” What the hell was wrong with him? Was he intent on pissing her off?

  “Wasn’t planning on this today,” she retorted, but she wouldn’t let it go. “I have to say though, this was definitely a first for me.”

  So much for not giving her any more leverage. She had him right where she wanted him. “A first?” he cautiously ventured.

  “Jacob.” She sighed, his name rolling off her sweet tongue like she was born to say it, “I didn’t know I could come like that. You…”
she leaned over, tracing her soft fingers down his face, away from his mask—almost like it didn’t matter when she’d threatened to rip it right off his face moments before, “…you are amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

  He couldn’t stop the grin that took hold of his mouth, wrestling the corners up. Amazing. Could it really be that long out of the saddle didn’t matter?

  For just a second, he forgot about being mad at her and being mad at himself. He even forgot about the terrible house where Susan and Fred had died. He forgot about his face and Kip and even Mick standing in wet mud.

  All he could think about was her touch, her taste, her feel. Had he really lived for eight years without this in his life?

  Finally, her fingers trailed off his skin and reality crashed back onto him. They had to get away from this house before Tommy came looking for them, and they had to get the horses back to the barn before they got too chilled. The creek would be too swollen to cross here. They’d have to go south.

  As much as he wanted to kiss her, he turned and led Mick out into the clearing. Mary Beth wordlessly followed.

  Maybe she won’t ask. Maybe she’ll let it go. Aw, who am I kidding? This woman never shuts up.

  And she didn’t. As she swung that long leg he’d only gotten a glimpse of over Jezebel’s back, she asked, “You? You’ve been tested?”

  “I had a lover, once,” he coldly replied. This would definitely kill whatever she felt for him, and quick. But he wouldn’t lie to her. He owed her that much.

  Mary Beth thoughtfully nodded, no doubt recalling all the gossip Robin had joyfully shared as fast as she could. “What happened to her?”

  Jacob looked up to the sky, daring it to rain again. She was going to hate him for this, he just knew it. He already hated himself.

  “Well?”

  “She died,” he finally answered, careful to keep his voice perfectly level. “On the floor in that little shack.”

  She shot up in her saddle like she’d been hit by lightning, something between guilt and pity all over her. Guilt he could understand, but the pity just pissed him off all over again. Without waiting for her reaction, he kicked Mick into a trot.

  For a second, she didn’t follow, and he couldn’t decide if he should just leave her there or go back for her. Of course I can’t leave her, he grumbled to himself. But he couldn’t take being pitied. He didn’t have time in his life for pity.

  After a moment, he heard her kicking Jezebel into motion, and seconds later, she was riding besides him.

  “Jacob,” she started, her voice shivering.

  Jesus, he thought. Don’t cry. I can’t handle the crying.

  But she choked down a sob and simply said, “I’m sorry.”

  Jacob nodded as he guided the horses south, looking for a crossing of the now swollen gully. Maybe that was the best he could hope for, if only she’d drop it.

  And for once, she stopped talking as they followed the edge of the roaring gully. Maybe she doesn’t hate me. He tried to be optimistic, but he was afraid to look back at her, afraid to see if she was crying or furious or staring at him with that awful abject pity.

  His mind raced through all the possible outcomes.

  McGillis. Kip. The hands. The gossips—especially Robin. The tribe. The Waka Sica.

  No matter what the variable, it still ended badly. At best, he’d break her heart—or she’d break his. At worst—

  Well, he’d already lost Susan.

  Finally, he reached an incontrovertible decision.

  I can’t risk it.

  I can’t risk her.

  The thought nearly broke him down, but he tried to take heart that this was the most honorable thing to do. Honorable and right weren’t always the same thing, and it was up to him to decide.

  He chose honorable, even though he knew she’d just hate him again.

  It took about an hour before he got to a point where the horses could brave the current. Without a word, he turned Mick into the ice-cold rushing water and forded the stream, the frigid chill cutting right through his not-quite-dry jeans.

  Mary Beth only hesitated a moment before she followed him in. The water was quickly at her thighs, and he knew she had to be freezing. But Jezebel was out the other side in less than a minute.

  Now, before they got any closer to the ranch. “No one knows,” he said, his gaze unforgiving.

  She cocked her head to the side, looking a little confused. “Not even your sheriff friend? Wasn’t there an investigation or something? Did they ever catch who did it?”

  “No. No one knows.”

  The way she looked at him should have scared him. If she shot her mouth off to the wrong person at the wrong time…

  “No one has to.”

  “No one knows,” he repeated more forcefully.

  She stiffened her back, temporarily mastering the teeth-chattering shakes that gripped her. “And no one else will.”

  “Jacob! Dr. Hofstetter! You out here?” Tommy’s voice cut through the timber.

  “Keep it that way,” he replied as he kicked Mick toward the waiting cowboys.

  And away from her.

  Chapter Seven

  The show ended unceremoniously one mid-September day. A few women had gathered at the café, their teeth chattering over steaming cups of coffee as they waited.

  Mary Beth sat with them.

  It didn’t matter that Jacob hadn’t said more than six words to her since that absolutely insane afternoon one month ago, she told herself as she sipped her tea. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t even look at her when anyone else was around. It didn’t matter that when they were alone, riding out on the range to check on his horses or on cattle in a distant field, he only responded to her in grunts. It didn’t matter that he looked at everyone but her during the show.

  Didn’t matter. He was just a man, and she could take him or leave him, just like she’d left every other man she’d ever bedded.

  Yeah, right, she fumed at herself as she waited for him to appear. He was never yours to take or leave.

  What was more, it didn’t matter that in that month of sexual frustration, she’d given up on her vibrator and the dull little pop of release it offered her—too much like the little pop she’d always gotten out of any other roll in the hay. Now it didn’t release a damned thing, not compared to the screaming ecstasy Jacob had effortlessly awakened in her. It didn’t matter that she might never get that ecstasy back again. Didn’t matter.

  She saw Bill less as he let her shoulder more of the responsibilities of the practice. Some days, the only person who talked to her was Fran—and that was to boss her around.

  Mary Beth knew that if she hadn’t had Robin to tease her about her makeup and gossip with over beers at the café Saturday nights, she’d be completely alone out here, surrounded by people who didn’t want her here.

  People like Jacob.

  The most she’d gotten out of him had been when he’d called her out to his horse barn late one night. One of the foals was breech, and as they silently worked to save both animals, he’d lost some of the cool-cowboy demeanor.

  “Robin said you were helping her with her applications,” he’d tentatively begun as the newborn foal tried to find her legs.

  “I was, but she missed the deadlines,” Mary Beth had grumbled, somewhat amazed he was talking. Maybe the miracle of life loosens him up, she’d mentally sniped, trying not to be as big of a bitch as he was being a jerk.

  “She’ll go when she’s ready,” he’d tried to reassure her as he lightly rested his hand on her shoulder. “You can’t force her to do something she’s not ready for.”

  For a millisecond, she’d let his touch set her blood on fire. But if that was his idea of an apology for being a jerk, she’d realized as her anger rose up, he could shove it. “Yeah, I know all about that the hard way, but thanks for the tip, Jacob,” she’d snapped. So much for not being a bitch.

  In the faint barn light, she couldn’t tell if he was mad at he
r for mouthing off or just amused, but it had been the first flicker of real emotion she’d seen in nearly a month.

  But then Jack, the night guy, had padded through the barn, and Jacob had gone all unreadable again.

  And that was it. In the whole month, the longest month of her life, that was the most he’d said to her to even hint that he acknowledged her existence outside of calving and vaccines. He still watched her like a hawk, and she supposed she was grateful that he hadn’t cast her off to Buck, but it was hard to muster up the gratitude when all she wanted was to wring his neck.

  Mary Beth shivered again, more from the confused emotions than the gust of chilled air blowing down the street. How could she even describe the best sex she’d ever had, in the world’s worst place to have it? It didn’t seem possible to think of something so earth-shakingly wonderful having occurred in the same room where two people had been slaughtered and Jacob permanently maimed by…by what? It? Something that laughed as it killed with a knife? She had no idea.

  Mary Beth had pieced together a theory about that hidden house and the people who’d lived and died there. He’d loved the woman, Susan. She’d been his one and only, until she’d married Fred. Robin had said she thought they might have moved to Pierre after that, but they hadn’t. They’d gone off the grid until Jacob had found them.

  That left only two options. Either he’d gone to win Susan back, or…

  Robin had said that maybe Kip was the only one who knew what happened to his face. Kip, the girl no one knew existed before she just appeared. Kip who didn’t talk and didn’t see.

  It all connected back to Kip.

  But she didn’t know why, and with Jacob answering her in only monosyllabic grunts, there was no way to find out. She couldn’t just walk up to the silent little girl with weirdly purple eyes and say, “So, did you see what took his face?” That was no way to make friends with a kid.