“Martin, quiet,” Thelma admonished in a loud whisper, swatting him on the arm.
Dex just smiled that mesmerizing smile and tipped his hat a little. “Ma’am,” he said, nodding goodbye.
Cynthia smiled and nodded back, unable to stop the butterflies from whizzing around in her stomach as she glanced at the dichotomy of little dimples in his cheeks.
“Have fun,” Cynthia hugged Thelma’s neck one more time and waved goodbye.
All three of them climbed in the pickup truck, Mr. Greek God in the driver’s seat. Within seconds, they were pulling out of the circular driveway onto the side road that led to the freeway.
Chapter 4
Everyone was gone. The house, porch, land … all quiet.
Cynthia took a seat on the top step of the porch landing and stared out at the wonder that was Big Sky Country. Having never given the state’s nickname any real thought, she know understand why they called it that. Everything under the heavens was dwarfed in comparison, including the mountains in the distance. With just the sound of the wind, the birds and the crickets, Cynthia sucked in and slowly breathed out the fresh Midwestern air. She reasoned this was not a bad idea for vacation after all. She already felt more relaxed than she had in … years.
She pictured Dexter Callahan’s face and a warm feeling gushed over her.
“You’re blushing,” she smiled, admonishing herself out loud as she sat all alone on the large porch.
“Yup, blushing like a school girl,” she chuckled at the foreign feeling and shook her head.
Her instinct was to listen for her mother’s warning.
But it didn’t come; not this time.
Letting her guard down, she decided to just go with the feeling, remembering the feel of his strong hand on hers and the mutual dancing in his eyes as he looked at her.
She exhaled and laid back on the porch, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the wind on her face and the peaceful sounds of nature penetrating her senses.
***
As the evening wore on, Cynthia finally went upstairs and unpacked. The house was an older structure, but fine, with manicured grounds. Though elegant, it was decorated in a casual, relaxed way; one that was all Thelma.
Cynthia had known her friend for years, having met on the Debate Team at Stanford and eventually requesting to be roommates. Thelma came from extreme wealth in Bel Air on her father’s side, but she didn’t wear it on her sleeve. She did the opposite, distancing herself from it as far as she could.
Cynthia remembered questioning her about it one day as they were both headed to their part-time jobs in the university library.
“Why do you work?” Cynthia asked. “When your family has all the money in the world.”
“You mean my daddy does,” Thelma said in a voice laced with clear disdain. Cynthia knew Thelma’s mother had died years before and there was speculation that her father had something to do with it.
“Your daddy, your family? I mean, I’m here because I have to be, but you don’t have to work.”
“I don’t want anything from him, at least not while he’s still alive and kicking,” Thelma said. “What I wanted he took from me a long time ago.”
Cynthia remembered Thelma looking at her like she’d let something slip she shouldn’t have. But they never spoke about it again.
They walked on to the library together as if nothing had been said at all.
Cynthia always wondered what her friend meant, but she didn’t question it. It was none of her business.
***
That evening, after taking a long, hot bubble bath in the elegant clawfoot tub on the second floor of her guest suite, Cynthia oiled her body with her favorite spa lotion, then she powdered herself up like a newborn baby. After parting her thick mane, which quickly became a wad of afro puffiness when she didn’t relax it, she intertwined it into two huge plats that hung on her shoulders like her mother used to do when she was a child.
“No silky nightie tonight,” she mumbled to herself. Cynthia slipped into her favorite oversized Stanford Law School t-shirt. It was faded and had a few nicks but it was comfortable.
At home, after a long day at the law firm, she more often than not slipped into a silky kimono after a bath; but not here. Something about being in Montana, versus her tiny, elegant one bedroom condo in Nob Hill, brought her beautifully down a notch.
And there was no chance of her lover popping up. She had one in the city, but he was firmly in the every-so-often maintenance man category. A busy professional too, they took care of each other sexually, though not nearly as often as she knew he would have liked. Cynthia could go for months on end without sex; it just wasn’t at top of mind, but after meeting the towering, rugged rancher a few hours ago, something other than butterflies was stirring about in the warm folds between her legs.
She finally sauntered downstairs through the wide, hardwood-floor filled dining room to discover a note on the kitchen counter.
“Dinner’s in the microwave. Love you, Thelma.” Three smiley faces, her signature drawing, ended the note.
Just as Cynthia opened the microwave, a loud chime ringing throughout the home made her jump. After placing her hand over her chest to calm her nerves, she closed the microwave door and headed toward the front of the home.
“Who is it?” she asked before opening the door.
“Dex,” the voice said.
Back in California she would have never even considered opening the door to what was in essence a complete stranger, but her instinct told her he was a man she could trust.
Cynthia glanced at her appearance in the long, oval antique mirror hanging in the foyer next to the door. “Oh shoot!” she said trying to wipe some of the baby powder off her chest with her t-shirt.
She knew it was pointless, so she resigned herself to the fact that she looked like a powdered-up Pippi Longstocking.
She let out a breath and opened the door.
Dex smiled down at her, stifling a grin at her adorable appearance. “I just wanted to check on you, make sure you have everything you need.”
“I do,” Cynthia said, too aware he was almost laughing.
“Well I didn’t expect to have company,” she sighed, a hand planted firmly on her hip.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No intrusion at all,” Cynthia offered. “Thank you for coming by.”
“You have a good night, and if you need anything, I’m just steps down the trail.”
“Thank you but I think I’ll be fine tonight, Mr. Callahan,” she said, feigning being irritated at him being amused, when all she really wanted to do was invite him in.
But she didn’t.
“Alright, goodnight then – Ms. Alexander.”
“Goodnight,” Cynthia closed the door behind him.
“Lord have mercy,” she said to herself. “That is a fine man.” A dark t-shirt gripped at bulging biceps, and faded blue jeans draped what was surely an illegal frame.
Cynthia waved her hands back and forth as embers of wanton began licking at her moistening softness. It had been, dare she admit, months since she’d thought about sex and even longer than that since she’d actually had any.
But Dex Callahan definitely had her mind firmly in the gutter. Enjoying the titillating thoughts swirling around in her head that did not have to do with a case file, Cynthia decided at that moment she would make a conscious effort to relax and fully enjoy this vacation. She knew once she got back to the city, it would be a long time before she took another day off, so she sauntered into the great room, poured herself a little glass of sherry, and put her feet up on the comfortable tufted lounge.
She couldn’t help it, though; like a drug, her mind flitted to her work and Eric Jackson. Though the competing candidate did not have the client roster or the hours, he did have the stuff good attorneys are made of. She couldn’t deny that … and he was male.
Cynthia knew she’d have to outperform his littl
e butt threefold, and she was prepared to do just that. A couple weeks of fresh air and open land could be just what she needed to feel rejuvenated before she went back to the hustle and bustle of San Francisco.
She took another sip of her sherry. “Good trip already,” she said, not realizing what lay ahead.
Chapter 5
Dex couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the pretty lady in Martin and Thelma’s home. After he tossed his ranch clothes into the tall hamper next to the large porcelain tub in his master bedroom suite, he eased his hulking naked frame into the steaming water.
A deep grimace escaped him as he bared the pain left by the stallion throwing him from his saddle earlier that day.
Something about Thelma’s friend tugged at his heart. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman that interested him, and longer still since he’d entertained the idea of asking one out on a proper date.
He couldn’t deny for some reason meeting Cynthia made him think about settling down. It was time. He was 41, and thanks to his adoptive parents, he along with his sister Apple, owned most of the land in and around Sheppard County. Growing older, he knew time didn’t wait for anyone. But as an adopted child, he struggled with trust, commitment, and feeling connected.
Cynthia’s pretty face filled his senses as the hot water circled his muscles and penetrated his bruised skin. Their eyes had only locked for a few seconds, but he had the strangest feeling they needed each other.
Maybe it was because she was African American.
He had dated more than a few women casually, but most of them had been during his years as a football player. At MSU, most of the women had not been black, and they had all been pretty much flings … but for one. And that one woman he had been drawn to differently was Felecia Watson, but she’d broken his heart by dating one of his teammates.
It was just easier to date women casually than to get his heart involved. He’d really ‘gotten’ that lesson early on with Felicia, but he’d learned it earlier still when his parents told him he was adopted.
They didn’t have a choice; they had to tell him, sooner or later, because he was an ethnic child in a sea of white people in Sheppard County. Dexter often wondered if he’d ever really know his roots.
He tried to dismiss those thoughts as he positioned the heating pads on his strong thighs.
His mind wandered back to Cynthia. She was the most desirous women he’d ever laid eyes on, even wearing pigtails and a tattered t-shirt. The pull to her was so strong, he didn’t understand it. And he decided he didn’t have to. All he had to do was get up the nerve to ask her out on a date before she left town in a couple of weeks. If it were meant to be, he believed God would take care of the rest.
Chapter 6
The next morning Cynthia was awakened by a cluster of birds chirping and dancing in perfect harmony at the feeder outside of her bedroom window. She fixed herself a cup of coffee and sauntered lazily outside to the front porch. Surprised, she saw Dex Callahan in the distance, working.
Dex had just come from the barn, guiding a tall, brown horse into the sunny area near the front porch. He was dressed in weathered jeans and a dark t-shirt. Brown Cowboy boots with spurs looked sexy at the bottom of his powerful, slightly bowed legs.
“Now what’s a good-looking ethnic man like you doing all the way out here in no-man’s land?” Cynthia asked, gesturing around at the majestic Montana peaks clambering for the vast open sky. Dexter appeared to be a little bit of all nationalities: white, black, Native American, to name a few, and she was never one to hold her tongue when she wanted to know something. It often caught people off guard, one of the things that made her a good attorney.
It was barely dawn, and Cynthia had one of the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long time. Feeling bright-eyed and bushy tailed, she knew she was openly flirting. But what harm could it be? After all, she would be back in San Francisco in no time at all, so a little superficial flirting with the likes of Dex Callahan could do no harm at all.
Dex smiled, revealing those irresistible dimples. “Good-looking?” he chuckled, discounting her ‘ethnic’ comment.
“Yes, good-looking,” she chuckled, realizing he’d ignored part of her comment. It didn’t matter to her; people were just people, but it was curious, because he stuck out like a sore thumb in Cattlewood, judging from the ride from the airport and her drive into the little town’s Main Street area with Thelma. The area was lily white, though the people seemed warm, accepting, and a tad-bit nosey.
“Well thank you, Miss Alexander,” he said, glancing over at her.
His eyes traveling her body gave her warm fuzzies.
Pleased with herself for letting her hair down and going with the flow, Cynthia continued the flirt.
“You’re quite welcome,” she smiled, taking a sip from her bowl-like coffee cup.
The fresh Montana air and the mountain breeze was already making her feel like she was on a real vacation, so she was noticeably less guarded to her own self.
She was clad in a gauzy white shirt that landed mid-thigh. Large, fuzzy white slippers covered her feet, but for painted pink toenails peeking out. The tousle of jet black hair cradling her shoulders was sexy in the morning light. And though Dex tried not to stare, the silhouette of her pert bosom and nipples standing at attention visible through her night shirt could not be ignored. “You’re an attractive lady yourself.”
Cynthia followed his brilliant blue eyes to her bosom. She smiled in embarrassment as she realized her shirt was see-thru in the morning sunlight. Lifting her cup to her mouth to shield her bosom, she breathed, “Thank you.”
Dex was warmed by her blushing, and the sudden sensation of blood rushing through his loins made him want to pull her into his arms, steal a kiss, and slip his hands under the soft, flowing fabric and touch what he knew was ecstasy underneath.
Cynthia was just about to ask if he wanted a cup of coffee when a pretty woman emerged from the barn. Her curvy frame wiggled over to Dex, and she planted a kiss on his cheek, just shy of his lips. “I’m leaving,” she said in local drawl, a big smile on her face. “Do you need anything from town?”
“No, I’m fine,” Dex said. “You be careful on the road, and don’t get into any trouble.”
Dex caught Cynthia’s look. He knew what she was thinking, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.
Cynthia looked at the woman with the flowing blond tresses. What was he doing in Montana? It was now clear. She involuntarily sighed.
He could sense what was probably going through Cynthia’s mind by the tiny daggers in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but it oozed from her like a little river. She thought Apple was his woman.
A secret smile pinned to his heart, Dex decided he’d let her steep a little longer. He rather enjoyed her being jealous; it meant she was interested in him, too.
Chapter 7
A long, dusty station wagon reminiscent of the Partridge Family and the 70s’ came squelching up into the yard.
Cynthia heard the car before she saw it.
Dex heard it, too. He came from the barn to greet who he knew was Miss Emma and help get little Carson settled.
“Hello, Miss Emma,” Dex said, opening the car door on the driver’s side.
“Hi there Dex. How are you doing today, looking fine as ever?”
Dex waived off the old lady’s flirt, which always caught him off guard. She was pushing at least 85-years- old, but she flirted openly as if she were an appropriate age for him.
“I’m fine, Miss Emma,” he said, peeking in the car for Carson. The boy was already out, running like a bullet in front of the car toward him.
“Hey Buddy,” Dex said, swooping the giggling child up into his arms. “What have I told you about running in front of the car?”
“Sorry,” the little boy laughed. “I forgot!”
“Well don’t do that again, okay?”
“I won’t,” he said, wiggling out of Dex’s arms and flying up the fron
t steps, falling into Cynthia.
She tried to help him up, but he was too quick. “I got it, I got it,” he said, brushing himself off.
“Hi,” he said, looking up at Cynthia with big green eyes. His wily, chestnut curls were all over his head. Rosy, chubby cheeks made him look like the ring leader of the Little Rascals.
Hi,” she said, smiling at his independent nature. “I’m Carson Hagen,” he said with authority. “Who are you?” He placed his pudgy fingers on his short hips and waited for her to answer.
“I’m a friend of your mommy and daddy’s,” Cynthia said, squatting so they were eye level. “I’m Miss Cynthia and I will be staying with you for a little while until your parents get back home.”
Montana Love: Multicultural Romance Page 3