by Sasha Gold
“Of course, I did. I just didn’t think it would take you so long to knock on my door.”
She scoffs. “I showed up the second night.”
“Why not the first?”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? Cocky.”
She thinks I’m cocky? I don’t know if that’s true. Sometimes. Maybe. When I settle on a bull’s back, I’m sure of myself. If I didn’t feel one hundred percent confident that I could ride him, I’d never last eight seconds.
“I go after what I want. That’s all.”
I turn off the road and glance at my rearview mirror. The car that had been behind us drives past and disappears around a bend in the road. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or not. I’ll bet Vivian will be as mad as a wet hen, but part of me wants to get that showdown over and done with. I soon discover, Vivian wants to as well.
I insist on carrying Grace over the threshold. The sound of her cell phone ringing fills the quiet of the house. She pouts. I put her down and stalk through the house, following her. It’s our wedding day. And it might be before noon, but I don’t see any reason not to go right back to bed.
Grace ignores the call and scrolls through the messages. The expression on her face tells me all I need to know. Vivian has done a little digging. I wanted to tell Gracie some of the things from my family’s past, but didn’t want to tell her until I made her mine.
When she finishes, she sets the phone aside and lifts her eyes to mine.
“Where do you want me to start?” I fold my arms and lean against the doorframe.
“Your brother and your father are in prison?”
Her voice shakes. The blood has drained from her face. The expression on her face is a mixture of fear and disbelief.
“My father died a couple of years ago. In prison.”
She gives a slight shake of her head.
“He went to jail for armed robbery, and died in a prison brawl.”
“And your brother?”
“Jimmy’s my half-brother. My father walked out on my mother and me when I was three. My mother and I never saw him again. He had a kid a few years later. I’ve never met him. He’s serving a life term.”
“I see.”
But she doesn’t see at all. She’s shocked and wondering how she can undo our vows. Or maybe how she can get away from me. As fast as possible.
“What about your mother?”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. I would have guessed she’d want to know what Jimmy did, not ask about my mother. I can half-imagine my mother shaking her head, a smile playing on her mouth.
A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into now…
“My mother passed away when I was seventeen. Suddenly. Of an aneurysm.”
I should ask about her parents, or I should have before this, but then I’d have to pretend I don’t know. I’d have to act because in between rodeos, I’ve found out everything I could about Grace Hopkins.
“She raised you?”
I nod. “She did. By herself. My father never gave her a dime. She was a nurse and worked extra night-shifts to make ends meet. Not once did she try to get child support. She always said she’d do whatever she needed to do to keep me from having to spend time with him.”
Grace straightens. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“You never spent time in prison?”
“Never. I walked the straight and narrow. Graduated from high school in the top ten percent. I had offers to play football from a few big schools, but then…”
Her eyes light with understanding. “Your mom must have died right around then.”
“That’s right. And I rode my first bull. Everything changed then.”
Her phone rings again. She glances at it furtively and squeezes her eyes shut. They fly open as I cross the room, and widen when I pick up the phone and answer it.
“Hello, Vivian.”
There’s a shocked silence followed by a demand. “Put my sister on the phone.”
Gracie stares at me. Her chest rises and falls with quick shallow breaths. I cup her jaw and rub my thumb over her lips.
“I can let you talk to Grace.”
There’s a huff of shock on the other end. “You’re not going to let me do anything!”
“I’ll hand her the phone after you answer a question.”
She’s thinking it over. I can hear a man’s voice in the background. She shushes him.
“Fine,” Vivian huffs. “What do you want?”
I hold Grace’s gaze and talk softly. “I want to know how much you want for your fifty acres.”
The line is quiet. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve lost the call, but then she replies. “It’s worth a lot. Concept Solutions just announced they’re bringing their service center to San Felipe. If I got the land to be zoned commercial, I could get-”
“I’m offering you twelve grand an acre. Right now. Take it or leave it.”
She sputters. She’s probably shocked at the price and my demand that she answer right now.
“You’re not going to give me some time to think about it?”
“I’ll give you a little time, Vivian.”
“How long?” She sounds panicked.
I smile at Gracie and lower to kiss her. She’s too astonished to kiss me back. I growl softly. “Eight seconds, Vivian.”
More indignation. Gracie shakes her head in disbelief.
“Clock’s ticking, Viv. I’d hate to lose the call.”
I switch the phone to speaker. Vivian’s screech fills the quiet of the farmhouse kitchen. “You’re a bastard. You know that?”
“You have no idea,” I mutter. I wink at Grace. “I’m…” I let my words trail off, and after a small pause, I add, “Losing… call.”
Grace shakes her head. A dozen emotions flit through her eyes. Fear. Dismay. Outrage and worst of all, doubt. She thinks I pushed because I want the ranch. I did want the ranch, but Vivian raised the stakes when she started talking about marriage. I just struck when the iron was good and hot.
“Three seconds, Vivian.”
“Fine!” she shrieks. “I’ll take it!”
Chapter Nine
Grace
The misting rain continues through the afternoon, but I let the yearlings out anyway. They haven’t ever been in such a big pasture and, for a few moments, they linger by the gate. Bonnie trots a few steps into the grass and snorts. Clyde waits and watches. He’s more cautious than the filly.
Suddenly the filly realizes the expanse of the pasture and bolts. She charges straight down the middle of the field. She’s pure quarter horse and she looks like she could be on a racetrack. Clyde follows and races ahead. He’s as silly as she is until he realizes he’s passed her. He squeals and doubles back to be by her side.
All afternoon, I’ve tried to wrap my brain around what’s happened. My worries about Vivian are in the past. Honestly, I don’t even know if she’s married. She’s posted stuff on Facebook before that was nothing more than a bunch of flat-out lies. She and I haven’t been close since she left San Felipe. I’d hoped that with time we would find our way back to each other, but it hasn’t happened yet.
The ranch divided us in a way that my grandfather could never have imagined.
The door slams and Ben comes out of the house. He comes down the steps and jogs over.
“My lawyer sent the papers. She signed right away. The money will be in her account by the end of the day.”
“That was fast. She couldn’t get rid of the property fast enough.”
I sound bitter. I suppose I am. The land is mine now. Ours, really, but it feels like a hollow victory. And then there’s the subject of Ben, who has pursued me relentlessly. For what, I wonder. While Vivian’s been signing papers and probably picking out a decorator for the penthouse, she’s also fired off a few texts. All of them taking shots at Ben.
He told Lonnie at San Felipe Realtors, he’d do ANYthing to get the ranch…
You better watch
your back…
Jeffrey thinks he’s a stalker…
“I should take you out for dinner,” Ben says.
San Felipe is a small town and in a few days our marriage will be posted in the paper. Everyone, and I mean everyone, will be shocked. I used to brag that I wasn’t ever going to get married. I act like I’m too independent, but there’s more. Many memories of my parents involve their violent arguments. I never wanted to go through anything like that.
He steps closer. The rain picks up and drips off the brim of his hat. I’ve tried to avoid him all afternoon. Tonight’s our wedding night and I should be flirting with my new husband, but everything feels raw and precarious.
“Dinner, or at least let’s get you out of this rain,” he says.
His voice is sultry. I shiver. My breasts tighten. A sizzle of arousal heats my core. I felt it the first time I saw him. It felt like being swept away by a riptide. I knew in that moment, he was pure danger and I was out of my depth.
Somewhere along the way I stopped listening to that little voice. Not only did I stop listening, but I dove right in, following not the voice of caution, but the promise of pleasure. Ben had me before he even asked me my name. My attempts to refuse him were just delay tactics.
“I’ll make dinner,” I tell him. “It’s a good night to stay in.”
Before last night, he would have said something flirtatious, but there’s none of that teasing light in his eyes.
“Whatever you want.”
“Really?”
He sets his hand on my waist. His touch is nothing more than a gentle pressure. Nothing seductive or insistent.
“What if I want you to stop bull riding?”
His brows knit. “I am going to stop.”
“I mean now. Today.”
His lips thin. He drops his hand from my waist. “I just want one more ride, Grace.”
“What happened to Suzette’s son?”
He clenches his jaw. “Darren had partied the whole night. He was probably still wasted when he came to the arena. His mother doesn’t know that. She just saw him fall. She blamed the bull. And probably our friends too.”
“What if you get hurt?” I swallow hard. “Or worse.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “You’ll be a rich widow.”
I respond without thinking. I jerk my hand up to slap him, but he responds even faster. He catches my wrist and pulls me against his chest. His eyes burn. His grip is tight, just shy of painful. Arousal storms my senses, wrecking my defenses. When he lowers to kiss me, I’m helpless against him. He practically knocks my hat from my head. His kiss is hard. Lewd. Possessive and hungry.
“Why don’t you save that rough stuff for our wedding night?” he growls.
He waits for a response, but I’m too angry to respond. I’m angry that he would make a casual remark about me becoming a widow. And I’m angry that he has so much power over me.
“What wedding night?” I manage to say.
He smirks, like it’s a foregone conclusion that I’ll give him anything he wants. The rain drums down.
I pull free. “I’ll make dinner. You can take care of the horses this evening.”
Silently, I congratulate myself for telling him what to do. But he makes no change from his infuriating smirk. I return to the house, leaving him out in the rain.
A little after dark, I hear him open the door, kick off his boots and head upstairs. A moment later, the shower starts. I should not think about Ben Calhoun showering while I try to cook. I almost burn the rice and the chicken is probably cotton-dry.
My mind is in complete disarray. He’s just using you. He’s tender and loving. He wants the ranch. He bought you a huge ring…
The ring makes me nervous, to be perfectly honest. When I first put it on, I’d been overwhelmed. Now all I can think about is what if I lose it?
We manage to call a truce during dinner. Our discussion is weirdly amiable. Like I didn’t just try to slap him. We didn’t just have a quickie wedding, and we most definitely didn’t have wild sex last night. No, there’s none of that. Instead, we talk about the yearling’s bloodlines. Pretty sexy stuff for a wedding night. He talks about hiring a contractor to fix the guest house. Also, there’s a short conversation about the price of alfalfa.
The whole time, there’s a smile playing on his lips, like it’s all one big joke.
After dinner, he shoos me out of the kitchen. He fusses at me that I’m still wearing wet clothes from earlier and that I need to go take a bath. Ben towers over me, dwarfing not only me but everything in my kitchen. It seems odd and comical even to see him move around, ducking his head under the lamp. He clears the table and fills the sink with hot, soapy water.
“I should do the dishes,” I argue from the doorway.
“I want you out of those wet jeans,” he orders.
He doesn’t say the words in a seductive way at all. “My mother worked hard to keep food on the table. She never let me cook, and I never let her do the dishes. That was our agreement.”
“You don’t need to do that here, if you don’t want.”
I grew up with my grandparents who were totally traditional. I know men do dishes all the time, obviously, but still. It seems odd to see him there. If he tries to put on my teal-colored dish gloves, I might not be able to keep a straight face.
He frowns. “Go on, Gracie.”
I sigh and go upstairs. Sinking into the tub, I draw a sharp breath. My body hurts. Between my legs is sore. My muscles ache. Last night I’d offered myself to Ben. I can still hardly believe it. Everything I do is planned and deliberate. I wouldn’t ever enter a beauty pageant because the odds aren’t anything I control. Running a ranch may not be a science, but I try to plan everything. Last night wasn’t part of any plan.
My hands drift to my stomach. A renewed wave of shock comes over me. I could be pregnant. I close my eyes and imagine what that would mean. Something other than a piece of land bonding me to Ben and him to me. Ben Junior. I smile. It’s reckless, but primitive satisfaction makes my heart light.
After my bath, I wrap myself in a thick terry robe and sink into bed. It’s probably just eight o’clock, but the unmade bed looks so inviting. I close my eyes and listen to the rain falling. A rumble of thunder rattles the windows.
I wake, sometime later, disoriented by the dark and Ben settling next to me. He slips his arm over my side. I don’t make a sound. Neither does he. We lie together in the dark. The rain falls steadily, pouring off the roof and splashing on the ground below. Lightning flashes far off. The rain may have decided to stay a while, but the thunder and lightning are playing out far away. Or that’s what I think until a blast directly overhead makes me jump.
Ben pulls me closer and kisses the back of my head. His body molds to mine, a wall of hard muscle. His erection presses against me and even though I’m still in my thick robe, I can feel every inch.
It should come as no surprise to me that every rational thought rushes from my head. My objections and my self-dignity scamper off like rats fleeing from a sinking ship. Arousal swirls inside me. My breasts feel heavy. I ache for his touch. As I squirm with restlessness, I notice how still he is. I wonder what it’s like to be a man and try to sleep while aroused. A small laugh bubbles up from my throat.
Ben growls and nuzzles my neck.
“Is that a gun in your pocket?” I ask.
“Maybe I’m happy to see you. Only one way to find out.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. He holds all the cards in this relationship and he knows it. He’s gentlemanly and, well, gentle, but he knows he’ll get his way. I can’t resist him, but I have to, even if it’s just to win one small point of contention.
“I’m not sleeping with you.” I speak in a non-bedroom voice.
“Mmm… you were sleeping. For an hour or so.”
“No, I mean I’m not having sex with you again.”
Thunder cracks the sky. The blast makes me yelp. I’m already on edge because of t
he ultimatum I intend to give Ben.
“That so?” He drawls lazily, like he doesn’t believe me or couldn’t care less. Or both.
“Unless you agree to something.”
“What do you want me to agree to, Gracie?”
His voice is liquid sex, and the more I hear, the more I want him to touch me, and kiss me. I want him to strip me down again, too.
I turn in his arms, but my bathrobe doesn’t turn with me. It twists around my waist, and bares my shoulder. Despite the darkness, he seems to know that I’m bound and half-naked. He skims his hand down my back.
“I want you to stop riding bulls, Ben,” I whisper.
He kisses my shoulder. “It’s just one more ride, sweetheart.”
“I know. I still hate it.”
“I just need to ride JJ once. That’s it. I’ll be the one to break his perfect streak.”
I cup his jaw. “Think about JJ.”
He stops. “What?”
I hear the surprise in his voice. I have no idea where that came from, but I just go with it.
“Don’t you think JJ deserves to be unbeaten?”
He chuckles and lowers his forehead to mine. “I do not think JJ deserves that. I’ve never thought that and I’m pretty sure no bull rider has ever considered a bull’s winning streak.”
“I’m afraid of him hurting you, Ben.”
“He won’t. Have a little faith in me.”
He kisses my lips, silencing me as he cups my face. Almost instantly, the kiss turns hot. He presses me to the bed. With a quick tug, he frees me from my tangled robe. His hands and mouth are everywhere. Hot and demanding. I melt beneath his touch. He squeezes my skin. Bites me and sucks me.
I can hardly breathe, much less say anything coherent. Small, desperate sounds come from me. I hardly recognize my own voice. It takes no time for him to wreck my defenses.
“I need you, Gracie.” He tells me the words from between gritted teeth.
At least he’s as desperate as I am. I grip his head, holding him to my breast. He strokes my taut nipple with his tongue, until I’m writhing beneath him. I’m slick with sweat despite the cold. I shiver as he caresses my thighs. When he touches me between my legs, I moan softly.