I leaned in and he leaped forward and our teeth clattered together. After that, we managed a real good kiss, but it was still clumsy as hell.
“You forget how to kiss a man?” he teased, leaning back, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it away. “You need me to remind you?”
His pecs . . . bounced. Honest to God, he could make his muscles jump under his skin. Bounce, bounce . . .
I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. “You’ve got hidden talents.”
“S’what happens when you’ve got nothing but time on your hands.” He crawled toward me like a cat.
Straddled my thighs.
I stretched my legs to get comfortable with an armful of Sky on my lap. More gentle kisses. Unhurried. Maisy curled up against my side. I went to pet her, and my hand bumped Sky’s.
We laughed nervously at that. Again.
“What did you do while I was gone?” I asked.
“Worked.” Sky shrugged, and then he cupped the side of my face with his hand and ran his finger over the swelling ridge on my cheekbone. “Worried about you. Nobody expected you to confront your parents on your own. We were all trying to figure out the best way to help you when you walked through the door. It was bad, huh?”
“It’s over.”
“Is it? Families can be pretty unforgiving.” Sky let his head rest on my shoulder. I could get so used to holding him like that. I wanted it to be second nature.
No. I changed my mind. I wanted to be surprised by the wonder of it, just like this, every time.
I ran my hand through his hair and thought about what he was saying. His mother hadn’t forgiven him. His mother still didn’t believe his stepfather was abusive. She couldn’t face having a son who’d murdered someone, even in defense of a family member.
Unforgiving families were all he knew. “Have you even talked to your mother since you got out?”
The uncertain shake of his head about broke my heart.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not for you to be sorry.” He picked up my hand and laced our fingers together. “But what about the boss?”
“What about him?” I’d gotten the latest news from Elena. “He’s coming home day after tomorrow, isn’t he? They’re transforming one of the guest rooms at the ranch house?”
He gripped my hand tighter. “Chandler fires queers.”
I laughed at that. “I’m pretty sure we could take him right now. He’s awfully weak.”
Sky didn’t even smile.
“Wait. Did someone say something to you?”
He shook his head. “Elena thinks we’ll be okay, but I can’t see how. He wanted me gone before all this happened.”
“But you still gave Elena your money? She told me all about that.”
His gaze slid away from mine. “So?”
I leaned against the wall, held him away so he had to face me. “How would you get a place without cash?”
He waved that off. “I’d manage. I’m a pretty resourceful guy when I need to be.”
I cupped his whiskery face between my hands and just studied him. He was no model. No porn star. But he had nice, even features. Sharp cheekbones and dark, soulful eyes. With four days’ growth of beard he looked a little disreputable, but that bad boy vibe hit my sweet spot like nothing else ever had. He got to me.
He got to me, and not only that, he got me.
He understood me in a way I was afraid no one ever would.
My throat hurt. “That’s got to be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“I”—he took my hands—“I thought they were going to lock you up somewhere. Like a mental hospital or something.”
I shrugged, even though the thought of it terrified me. “I thought so too. I didn’t know how far they’d be willing to go. I think . . . I think maybe they surprised themselves. And not in a good way.”
I lifted our clasped hands and kissed his fingers. I loved the ink and the scarred-up knuckles. I loved every line and every vein.
He watched me with an expression of such earnest longing that our eyes met and held fast.
“Foz was afraid you’d have to go to one of those conversion camps.” His voice was nothing but a bare whisper. “Those places are dangerous.”
“My parents threatened me with that, and a conservatorship.”
He shook my hands as if it was me he wanted to shake. “Then why the hell did you go home in the first place?” he asked. “You should have run.”
“I’m a giant with a service dog. How far do you think I’d get?”
He let out a shuddery breath. “That was an awful damn chance you took.”
“They’re still my parents. I had to give them a chance to do the right thing.” I kissed him, our breaths mingling in the dank air. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“I don’t.” He shook his head, comically. “I do not.”
“I had to try. I had to know. They’re my family.” I hesitated to ask the question but it was on my mind. “Have you even called your sister since you got out?”
Silence, thick as the country darkness, fell between us.
“I can understand why you wouldn’t call your mother but your sister would want to hear from you. She’s probably missed you terribly.”
“If I call, it will only remind her.”
“You don’t know that. You have to let your sister decide.”
One second passed, then two. He kicked the door open with his booted foot—bam—and next thing he’s running and Maisy’s barking and jumping and I’m leaping down and charging through the underbrush and thud.
Sky stopped, right in the shadows, and I plowed into him.
“You don’t know anything.” His voice sounded tight.
Laced with threat.
For the second time since I’d met him, it occurred to me that I was standing in the dark with a convicted killer. My first thought was for Maisy. I gave her the ‘down’ command, and she obeyed.
“You can’t forget what I am, can you?” he asked. “I might never have hurt you or anyone here. But you can’t forget and when it’s dark and quiet—when it’s just the two of us out here alone like this—you’re scared.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie.” His anger was like a flash grenade—meant to blind me to the pain behind it. “Don’t you fucking lie. I felt it. You’re scared. Imagine how my mom must feel.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
He let out a huff of indignation. “Right? So why would I put her through it?”
“Because you can’t imagine how she feels either.”
“Fuck off.” He tried to pass me, but I caught his arm.
He struggled, and he was tough, but I had leverage. I held him fast.
“You won’t know what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling unless you ask.”
He didn’t look at me. “She showed how she feels with her actions.”
“Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t.”
“No doubt about it.” He sagged, injured by his mother’s indifference. “She hates me now.”
“Okay, I’m going to say this once because you’re smart enough, and I think you’re brave enough, to hear it. You may be right. She may despise you. And she may throw you out of her house and forbid you to speak to your sister or whatever.”
He swung at me, but I leaped back out of the way. Caught him by his shoulders again. Maisy growled at him but stayed down.
“That’s a helluva fucking pep talk you got going there, coach. Your name is what, again?”
“All I’m saying—and I want you to hear me—so are you listening?”
I gave him a shake.
“Christ.” He yanked himself out of my grip. “Okay. Shoot already goddamnit.”
“All I’m
saying is sometimes you have to give people a chance to surprise you.”
I waited. He didn’t say a word.
“That’s all,” I finished lamely.
Because he’d heard me—because he’d listened to me, it took him a minute or so to shoot down all his arguments silently in his head before he replied. I could practically see smoke pouring from his ears, he was thinking so hard.
“Okay.”
That was too easy. “You’ll call your mother?”
“You’ll think I’m brave if I do it, right?”
I blew out—whoosh—and looked at the stars. Counting. “That’s not what—”
“’Cause I heard that shit loud and clear.” He cocked a brow at me. “You think I ought to give her a chance to tell me to fuck off in person and you think the reason I haven’t done that yet is I don’t have the balls.”
I gasped. “That isn’t what—”
“And just because you’re a big, dopey, optimist son of a bitch, and I would tear off my own left testicle to make the world the way you want it, I will do it.”
“Wait.” My heart did a showy, spinning plummet, right into Skyler Brody’s pocket. “That’s—”
He made a fist and thumped it against his heart. “I’ll call my mother tomorrow. I will give her a chance to surprise me, because you asked me to.”
Good Christ.
His vulnerability tore at me.
“Don’t.” My voice was hoarse. “Don’t do it.”
“What?” He glared at me.
“I said, don’t do it. Don’t call her.”
All of a sudden, the breadth of my stupidity floored me.
I knew my parents. I didn’t know his.
I’d had a lifetime of experience manipulating my family and Skyler might be defenseless against his.
“What if she’s awful to you?”
“What if she is?” he asked.
Without looking at him, I said, “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”
“Aw”—he patted me awkwardly—“it’ll probably be okay.”
My voice was fearful. “Will it?”
“No,” he said. “But giving something a chance to be good is much better than expecting that it won’t be. You faced your past. I should face mine. Sounds like a plan to me.”
He appeared to have made up his mind.
“All right, then.” Sky turned to glance one way and then the other. “How do we get back?”
“This way.” I didn’t know if I saw better than he did in the dark or if I just knew the way. I took his hand and pulled him in the right direction.
“Speaking of which. Nobody’s gonna thank you for tromping your man scent all over out here, you know.”
“Who’s going to know?” he asked.
“The deer will know. Let me just close up the blind and we’ll go back.”
Later, under the dome light of the mini-truck, Sky looked awfully relieved. “I didn’t want to say but that was a little claustrophobic.”
“A laughable observation in the mini-truck.”
He let me pull him in for a kiss—grudgingly at first—but then he fully participated.
His whiskers tickled, and my back hurt from hunching over the gear shift, but his kisses threatened to sweep my seat from under me. When I opened my mouth to his, he did this thing with his hands—a long, slow caress from my shoulders to my neck and then around my throat, up, and up, digging into my hair, petting me . . .
Mmnh . . . fingers grazing. Soothing . . .
Mesmerizing.
Was Sky saying something?
“Hm?” I blinked.
“When was the last time you slept?” Sky’s question brought me back to reality.
I caught my breath. “For how long? Because I napped on the drive.”
“Let’s go back and you can get some shut-eye. I’ll bet you couldn’t stay awake long enough for me to blow you and tuck you in.”
“I will take that bet but you can blow me right here.” I smiled and he smiled back.
His tongue came out to swipe at his upper lip. “You’re on.”
Chapter 37
Sky
Sunday finally arrived. We’d dreaded the day, because it meant we’d see how bad things really were.
Elena had been keeping visitors outside the ranch house, even Foz. All Rocky would say was the boss wanted a chance to settle in before he started receiving guests. Which seemed like a reasonable request to the rest of us.
But Boss was going to church. He was ready for that, he said. And after, he’d meet with Ryder and Andi and Doc Winters. And Rock was going too, because for Elena, he’d become the man of the house. The boss had been home for a few days, but apart from a glimpse of him being transferred to the ranch house in a wheelchair, none of us had seen him.
We knew the boss had some paralysis. He had trouble talking. We saw that the first day, when we heard him try to speak. We watched and waited while he mouthed something—while he tried real hard and maybe got one or two words out—and some of the hands lost faith.
We were all worried because if the boss couldn’t run the place, it was up to Andi, and she didn’t want to run it.
So on paper, the boss was still in charge, but he was going to need a lot of physical therapy and no way was he letting anyone put him in some kind of home. Nurses, PTs, and such. They came and went at all hours.
That meant all our jobs were at risk and—this was so fucking selfish—I was sick with worry about mine. I talked tough about finding a place and making my way if Rock couldn’t stay unless I was gone, but the idea scared the crap out of me.
To get this close to my dream, to be free, to be working at the Rocking C at last, and then to have it torn from my grasp was like some cartoon sledgehammer from the sky, come to fuck me up.
I’d have to be the roadrunner again, and keep going. Beep, beep.
Whatever Chandler needed from me, I’d give it, of course, starting with a good day’s work, every single day, no matter what the future held.
I owed him that.
They were training Rock to help the caregivers. Apparently he was learning how to safely transfer the boss from his bed to a wheelchair and from that to the car. He was muscle, in case he was needed.
After morning chores, I went up to the kitchen and reminded Elena that I could help too. I’d transferred patients, bathed and shaved them. I’d cleaned and dressed wounds and probably done a lot of things that might come in handy. She turned me down nicely.
“No, baby. You’ve got your own job. Rocky’s only learning to help out in case one of the nurses doesn’t make it, but we don’t expect to need it.”
“All right.” I stepped from foot to foot, stalling. “Everything else going okay?”
“Bless your heart, you very transparent cowboy.” She arched a brow. “Rocky’s getting ready for church.”
I glanced down at my hat, which I seemed to be crushing.
“Let him know I said hey.”
“If you’re ready in half an hour, you can come to church with us.”
“Really?”
“You got everything done that needs doing for a couple hours?”
“I can ask Foz.”
“Do that. Tell him I said it will be good for your soul.”
“Thank you.” I nodded and jammed my hat back on.
Foz was in the barn when I found him. He said he had no problem, as long as when I came back, I wasn’t going to try sleeping all day.
In my room, I changed into what had to pass for Sunday duds—a white shirt, worn black trousers, and a weird, skinny tie that must have belonged to ’Nando in the eighties. I looked like a freak, but I was presentable. I tucked my Bible under my arm and left the bunkhouse.
Rock waited for me on the porch, backlit by the morning su
n, wearing a pair of black jeans, a white woven shirt, and a Western-style suit jacket that looked tailor-made for him. He wore a hat I’d never seen—a black Stetson with a band of pretty silver conchos. His fancy-ass belt buckle shone like he’d spent hours shining it up, so of course it drew my eye. It and the fat package below it.
I’m a pig, I guess, because I can’t take my eyes off that for a while.
“Look at you.” I breathed the words.
He was a young god in cowboy boots that cost more than I’d made the entire time I worked at the Rocking C.
If Maisy hadn’t nudged my leg, I probably would have stood there looking at him all day.
“Elena says you stopped by?” he asked.
“Missed you last night.” I fell into step beside him.
“Sterling had a bad night.”
“Sorry to hear it. I don’t want to seem like I’m prying or nothing.”
“I know.” He took my hand to slow me down. “It’s just that I’m the only one who’s qualified to listen to him right now. I know exactly what it’s like when you expect your body to do something it has done a hundred million times, and it won’t do that thing anymore.”
I liked the way his eyes softened when he looked at me. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I just don’t want you to think it’s personal, or we’re keeping some big secret. I know how the hands talk.”
“They’ll feel better once they see the boss some more. It’s the fact he’s been holed up in the house that has ’em making up shit.”
“And of course, he doesn’t want any visitors until he’s at his best. So you can see how this is going to be a goat fuck no matter what, right?”
Elena and Chandler caught the tail end of that sentence.
“Rock.”
Rock flushed. “Sorry, Elena.”
Elena looked pretty as a bouquet of flowers in a blue summer dress and sweater.
While she swiped on lip gloss, Rock helped Chandler into her car. Normally they used the Rocking C’s vehicles for Chandler family business, but the trucks were too high off the ground for him, even with Rock’s help.
Unfortunately, Elena’s Honda had the opposite problem.
Somehow Rock managed to squeeze himself into the backseat behind Elena. I let Maisy jump in, and then I sat behind Chandler.
My Cowboy Freedom Page 29