by Ward, J. R.
Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered how she was to get through to the event in one piece. And waited in silence for an answer that didn’t come.
When she heard Devlin’s door close, A.J. quietly mounted the stairs and did a quick pass through the bathroom, getting done with her normal routine in half the time. Passing his closed door as she left, she paused as she realized it was far from over between them, business-only vows to the contrary. It was a premonition that tickled down her spine and she had to tell herself that the spooky sensation was because she was exhausted and unsettled, not because she could predict the future.
If she were psychic, she’d have known it by now, she thought as she went downstairs. And she’d have bought a lot more lottery tickets over the years.
It was hours later when A.J. awoke in confusion. Turning over, she looked out of the windows. Cloud cover had taken over the night sky, smothering the light of the stars and the moon. She looked around the room, unsure what had woken her up. Blinking in the dark, she held her breath, trying to pinpoint the disturbance.
Was it a dream or something real?
Listening, she waited to see if the noise came again, while trying to convince herself it was only her subconscious. In the quiet of the night, she heard the autumn wind brushing against the house and the shutters creak on their old-fashioned hinges, but those noises were unremarkable.
After holding herself tense for some time, she was ready to go back to sleep when she heard a muffled groan, the sound of someone in pain. Throwing back the covers, she leapt off the couch. When the low sound came once more, she realized it was drifting down from the second floor. She ran up the stairs.
With visions of CPR running through her head, A.J. wrenched open the door to Devlin’s bedroom. On the antique bed, he was moaning in anguish, thrashing like a man in the throes of torture. The covers were wrapped around his naked body like a snake, trapping his limbs and adding to the traction of his nightmare. She rushed to his side.
Lost to his torment, Devlin was mumbling incoherently and she reached for him, calling out his name. As soon as her hands touched his arm, his eyes snapped open as if he’d been struck. Disoriented, he struggled to get up but the bedclothes clung to the sweat covering his skin. She leaned forward to help free him, trying to ignore the way his bare body was revealed to her.
With a flash of movement, he gripped her arms, looking at her urgently while seeing something else.
“I knew there was something wrong with her leg,” he said urgently.
His voice held the anguish of regret, and the feeling sounded fresh despite being tied to events nearly a year old.
“It was my fault. I should never have taken her over those fences.”
Tentatively, A.J. reached up and stroked his hair but she didn’t know what good it was going to do to calm him. He was lost to his memories, stuck in the prison of his mind.
His hazel eyes, usually so sharp, were like dull stones as he shook his head back and forth. “If only I hadn’t pushed so hard…”
“Shhh,” she said in a gentle voice. “Take a couple of deep breaths.”
With the abrupt clarity of light slicing through darkness, he focused on her. Under his sudden regard, A.J. felt like she’d been caught eavesdropping on his pain and began to pull away, aware that he was naked in the knotted sheets.
Devlin didn’t let her go.
He moved with decisive speed, pulling her to him and claiming her mouth with a vengeance. A.J. was rocked by the sensation of his body against hers and reacted instinctively, opening her mouth to him. But, as his tongue plunged inside, the voice of reason in her head sounded off alarms. He was still disoriented and very naked and she knew coming together in the darkness, in his bed, was like tossing a match into a gas tank. Enticed as she was, she began to move away, trying to do the right thing.
She didn’t get far. When his arms tightened against her back in protest, she tried one more time and then gave up her halfhearted battle, getting swept away by their passion.
Letting herself go, A.J. kissed him back wholeheartedly, unleashing her desire and digging her nails into his bare shoulders. As their tongues dueled, her heart pounded and a feverish heat made her dizzy. She felt her legs move of their own accord. They parted and she straddled the hard length of him, the sheets and her boxers flimsy barriers between his throbbing length and her hot core. As her body took over, conscious thought was pushed into a dim corner, nothing more than debris.
She didn’t miss sensibility in the slightest.
As his hands went under her T-shirt, A.J. felt his touch over her skin. He lingered on her ribs, squeezing into the bones, and then came forward, sweeping up under her breasts. When she felt the tips of his fingers caress their tender undersides, she moaned against his mouth. Urgently, his hands swept upward and encased her, his thumbs stroking her peaked nipples until she thought she would go insane with hunger.
In a flash, the world tilted and spun as Devlin rolled her over, and then she felt his lips through the thin cotton of her shirt. She looked down and watched as his tongue licked over her breast, seeking a hard nub. As he kissed her, her shirt grew wet above the nipple, clinging to her skin, magnifying the sensation. Her body arched against him and she threw her head back with a moan. Taking advantage of the soaring movement, he wrenched the shirt up to her neck. As she felt his breath on her bare skin, she cried out and drew up her knees. His hips pushed into her, seeking her heat. When his mouth covered her nipple, she felt a warm, moist tug that was her undoing.
“Devlin!” she called out.
The sound of his name stopped him.
He froze and lifted his head and she became aware of their heavy breathing filling the room. She waited, praying he would continue.
But, with the same staccato change that marked his abrupt embrace, he separated them, leaving her to feel the cold of his withdrawal and her embarrassment. His retreat was like having the gates of paradise shut against her with most of her body jammed in the door. Shame flooded A.J.’s face as she left the bed and it only got worse when Devlin started to apologize. The regret in his voice stung as badly as her own mortification.
“I’m sorry,” he said while pulling bedsheets over to cover himself. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s best to just forget this happened.”
He swore softly. “But—”
“Please, don’t say anything.”
Face burning, she left without another word.
In the quiet night, she could hear the muted sound of his curses as she fled down the stairs.
As the light of dawn pierced a thin veil of early-morning fog, Devlin got out of bed. Not that he’d been sleeping. And not that he had anything to do at that ungodly hour, either. All he had was hope that shifting to the vertical would mean gravity could take a shot at clearing his head. God knew, he’d failed at the effort while lying on his back.
Dressing quickly, he crept down the stairs and stood in the living room doorway. A.J. was asleep, an arm cast over her eyes to block out the light. The makeshift bed was a hodgepodge of sheets and blankets, a sign she’d tossed and turned during the night, too.
At least she was sleeping now, he thought, remembering how he’d spent the night propped up against his headboard, staring off into space. Thinking about them.
Still baffled by his own murky motivations, he couldn’t explain why he’d reached for her. Well, he knew why on one level and that level was rising again as he recalled how she’d felt against him. What he didn’t understand, and couldn’t really forgive, was why he’d given in to his desire after they’d both agreed their relationship would be only a professional one. Blaming his lapse on coming out of the familiar nightmare didn’t really hold water. He hadn’t been thinking about the past when he’d pulled her to him. He’d been very much in the present.
And look what his impulse had gotten him. Another regret, something else he wished he could undo. It wasn’t that he m
ourned for one instant the feel of her under him. Hell, he’d keep that with him until the day they put him in the ground.
What bothered him was the look on her face as she’d turned to go. It was too full of embarrassment and shame for him to stomach. He was the one who should have to bear that burden, not she. He was the one who’d put their working relationship on a level it shouldn’t be on. He’d kissed her first. He was the one who’d pushed the boundaries. Several times.
A.J. stirred and he retreated to the kitchen, going straight to the phone. He felt the need to do something reasonable, to make a difference that made some sense. Even though it was just past five o’clock, he dialed a familiar number.
“Yup,” came the voice on the other end.
“Chester, it’s me.”
“Yup.”
“You want to come back?”
“Yup.”
“Half hour?”
“Yup.”
Devlin hung up.
Now, that was what he called a good working relationship. Clear, concise communication. No complications.
He frowned.
But then, maybe it was easy because he had no desire to see Chester Raymond coming out of his bathtub.
Moving around the kitchen stiffly as his leg loosened up, Devlin made the coffee, got out three mugs and was cutting thick slices of whole-grain bread for toasting when Chester came through the front door. There was no need for a knock. They’d lost that formality years before.
Devlin watched as his friend halted and looked over the sleeping figure on the couch.
Chester Raymond was almost seventy, as gnarled and lean as an ancient birch tree, and tough as a northland winter. He was also a man who took surprises in his stride.
“Mornin’,” he said, after he marched into the kitchen. He took off his battered baseball cap, revealing tufts of white hair over a face that had years of hard labor etched in it. When he cracked a smile, which was often, he looked like his skin was too big for his head.
“Mornin’,” Devlin replied as he filled up a mug and put it down in front of the chair the man always sat in. “Thanks for coming.”
“Glad to. What’s on your couch?”
“I’ll introduce you when she wakes up.”
“She?”
Devlin nodded.
“Does this she have something to do with what’s down in your barn? I heard some whinnies when I pulled up, so I took a look.”
“Uh-huh. You want breakfast?”
“Sure do.” Chester knew not to push. The story would come out eventually and he was a man who bided his time.
Immediately, they fell back into their old pattern. The groom took his seat at the table and stirred three heaping spoons of sugar into his mug while Devlin got out a bowl and filled it with two measured cups of cereal, one tablespoon of peanut butter and just enough milk to cover it all. Chester had been eating the same breakfast for fifty years. Maintained it gave him a youthful glow.
Devlin put the bowl in front of the man and sat down with his own mug. “Why do I think I’m the only one who’s surprised we’re back having breakfast together?”
Chester shrugged, digging in. “A’cause y’re the only one.”
A ghost of a smile played across Devlin’s face. “You always were unflappable.”
“No, just more easygoin’ than you. You been wound tight since the day I met’cha. Always a fighter, even when things are going your way.”
“It’s been a while since things have gone my way.”
“Not true. Ya just can’t see where y’re going next right now.”
There was a long silence as the phantoms of the previous year danced on the table between them.
“So, it’s been a while,” Chester said between mouthfuls. “How’re ya doin’?”
“I’m getting by.”
“Saw the jumps set up in the ring.”
“They’re not for me.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“I’m finished competing and, even if I could ride, I don’t know…. Losing Mercy was just too awful.”
“Don’t I know it. Missin’ her myself. But things, they come into a life an’ they go out an’ that’s the way it works. You can’t hold yourself back because it hurts. What ya need to be doin’ now is looking for what’s come to take her place.”
With that, A.J. walked into the kitchen. And Devlin thought he was going to choke on the symbolism.
“Good morning,” she said, skirting her eyes over him before looking at Chester. Her flush told Devlin she was remembering what had happened up in his bedroom and he thought the color in her cheeks made her look radiant. She was wearing blue jeans and a work shirt and had yet to pin back her hair, so its amber weight was a glorious stole around her shoulders. With her smile of greeting for the older man, she lit up the room like a bonfire.
Chester blinked twice, as if he’d seen an angel.
“I’m A.J.,” she said, offering her hand.
“An’ I’m glad to have somethin’ better to look at over breakfast than McCloud’s face,” the man replied, shaking her hand awkwardly. “Chester Raymond.”
She laughed. Chester looked away and looked back.
Devlin frowned and went to get A.J. some coffee, muttering, “Better watch out. For a confirmed bachelor, he’s a real lady-killer.”
“That your stallion in the stall?” Chester asked.
“He’s my ball and chain, yes.”
“Good composition, smart eyes, lot a’ trouble. What’ll save you is his heart. He’ll perform well for the right person.”
A.J. accepted the mug from Devlin. “You know him?”
“Don’t need to. Took a peek into the stall when I got here.” Chester polished off the last bit of his cereal. “One look at an animal an’ I know what’s in there. Just like catchin’ the headlines of a newspaper.”
“That’s amazing.” A.J. sat down.
“He’s a speed reader, all right,” Devlin interjected.
“Well, when a body’s seen as many horses as I have, a person goes on instinct.”
A.J. leaned across the table. “You know, I’m so relieved to hear you say that about Sabbath. It’s what I thought from the moment I laid eyes on him, but after our first time in the ring yesterday, I’ve been doubting myself. Going over fences wasn’t a good experience for either of us.”
“Don’t be doubtin’ the instinct. A body’s more likely to go wrong ignoring it than listenin’ to it.”
“You are so right,” she said.
Devlin began to feel left out.
“You two want to keep going down this personal empowerment road or should we get to work?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
They looked at him like he was being a grouch and he felt ridiculous. Imagine him, jealous of a seventy-year-old man. Who looked like a basset hound.
Obviously, insomnia could drive a person mad, he decided.
A.J. stood up.
“I’ll meet you all down by the barn,” she said, grabbing a piece of toast and gulping down the rest of her coffee. She gave the old man a radiant look before leaving Devlin without a glance.
Devlin watched her go into the front hall, shrug on her coat with the toast in her mouth and then hurry out the door.
“So when ya gonna marry her?”
Chester’s calm question fell on his head like a bucket of fish bait.
Devlin sputtered on the rim of his mug. “Excuse me?”
“Myself, I’ve always liked the spring weddin’s.”
“Are you channeling Martha Stewart or something?”
“Go ahead, fight this one like ya do everything else you can’t control. Don’t know why ya bother, though. It’s obvious what’s hangin’ in the air between you two.”
“No, wait—you’re doing Ann Landers.”
The older man shook his head as he took his bowl to the sink.
“Say what ya will, but y’re a goner.”
“I hate to break the n
ews but you’re way off base. She’s sleeping on the couch, not in my bed, and it’s only until the Qualifier.” Devlin shot to his feet. Took his own mug and plate over.
“Whatever ya say.”
“I’m not saying anything. That’s what’s happening.”
“Like I said, whatever ya say.”
The two bickered their way to the door, just like old times.
“There’s nothing going on.”
“Yup.”
“I’m serious.”
“An’ so is what’s not goin’ on.”
Devlin let out a curse, halting in front of the coats. “Since when did you turn into a romantic?”
“At least I’m improving with age.”
“Delusions aren’t improvement. They’re evidence of squash rot.”
“Better than goin’ blind from sheer bullishness.”
“Listen, old man,” Devlin said with a grin, “you want to help me set up the ring, or what?”
“I’m ready to go. Y’re the one dragging your feet.”
Devlin pulled on his barn jacket. “For God’s sake, will you stop it?”
“I’m not the one with the problem.”
“Well, I don’t have one, either!”
“I can tell.”
Devlin had just swung open the front door when Chester put a hand on his shoulder. The older man’s eyes were grave.
“I know this ain’t easy, boy. I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m not back,” he said gruffly. “It’s not me up on that stallion.”
“Ya don’t have to be on the horse to be back in the game.”
Devlin found that he couldn’t reply.
Before they stepped outside, he looked at his wooden cane, which was leaning against the doorjamb. The handle was worn from his grip and its sturdy length showed the nicks and chips of having been knocked against a variety of things. It had been with him since he’d gotten out of the hospital.