“It’s fine,” she said. “And don’t be sorry. In my book you get points for not assuming we’d make it to the bedroom.” She paused. “Or you would if we were keeping score. Which we’re not.”
A corner of his mouth kicked up. “In this case, I’ll take the points. Mostly because you haven’t seen the bathroom yet.”
“I can smell wet dog from here.” And was touched that he’d made the effort, even if that hadn’t included getting the water off the floor or the towels in the wash.
“I can fix that.” Without warning, he scooped her off her feet once more, and as she laughed, he swung her around and kicked the bathroom door shut. “No more wet dog.” Then he carried her to the bed and eased them both down, together.
The mattress and tangled bedclothes yielded beneath her, so much cooler than the banked heat of the man who held her, murmured to her, and kissed her softly. So softly.
Light spilling in from the hallway let her see the angle of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. In some corner of her mind, she was aware of the differences between him and Patrick, who was her main source of comparison. Patrick had been thicker with gym-fed muscles, where Foster was lean. Her ex had liked to use his weight to pin and hold her, where Foster lay beside her, offering her places to put her hands, her legs, her mouth, and coaxing responses out of her that she hadn’t known were in her to give. Then his strong hands moved over her, loosening her clothes and finding their way beneath, and a wash of heat raced through her.
Yes, she thought as he skimmed his palms up her torso to her breasts. Yes, there. And she stopped thinking, stopped comparing, and let herself feel. She felt the leashed strength in his body, the quiver of his muscles when she ran her hands over his back and down, then tugged his shirt open. The snaps gave with the sexy pop-pop-pop sound that she had imagined, and had her purring at the back of her throat.
“See?” he said, grinning down at her. “They give easily when they get hooked on something.”
“Does that mean you’re hooked on me?”
“Definitely.” He rose over her and pulled off his shirt, baring his torso. His skin gleamed in the diffuse yellow light, sleek and hairless, and unmarked save for a long scar that streaked along his rib cage. When she made a soft sound and ran her fingers along the line, he said, “A bull got me with a bit of a love tap.”
So will I, she thought, and reached up to kiss the spot, following it up along his body until he growled low in his throat and lowered himself to her. “It was a long time ago,” he said. “This is now.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Yes to what?”
“All of it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Show me what you’ve got, cowboy.”
And he did. He undressed her gently, kissing each square inch of her skin as he revealed it, making her feel cherished, adored. He stripped and rose above her, caging her with his arms and making her feel protected rather than pinned. And then he made love to her—there was no other word for it, despite their agreement—overwhelming her, possessing her, and making her feel as if they were the only two people in the universe. They moved together, a languid give-and-take that sped quickly, inevitably toward an implosion that made her think of fireworks and thunderstorms, and left her helpless to do anything but hang on to him as the sensations raced through her.
Foster, she thought. Oh, Foster. She didn’t say the words, though. They were too important, too intense and telling. So she clamped her lips on a moan and held the rest inside.
He didn’t have the same reserve—he whispered her name in between the kisses he trailed over her body and rattled it on a groan when she wrapped her legs around to take him deeper. And then, when her pleasure flared to a climax and he followed her over the edge, he said it again. Her name, over and over again. Or maybe that was the thunder of blood in her veins, the pounding sound of her pulse as her body went places it hadn’t been in . . . well, ever.
She closed her eyes and saw bursts of colors behind her lids, held on to him, and let the moment sweep her away. There was pleasure, huge and overwhelming; heat within and without, dampening her skin and making her feel safe and somehow elemental, as if she was closer to his world than she’d ever been. Then the climax ebbed, passing her by and leaving her feeling loose and boneless, and like she was exactly where she wanted to be.
He shifted off her, rolled to lie beside her, breathing hard. But he wasn’t lost in his own moment—he stroked her arm, touched her cheek, brushed her dampened hair back behind her ear with a tenderness that almost overwhelmed her.
“Foster.” She whispered it almost soundlessly against his throat, but she thought he heard her.
He tightened his arms around her, kissed her temple, and tucked her gently against his body. Part of her said that she should do something, say something. But the steady thud of his heart beneath her cheek and the rise and fall of his chest soothed her, told her that there wasn’t any rush.
Some time later—probably no more than a few minutes, though it felt as if it had been longer—she stirred, thinking she should really say something . . . except that the only thing she could come up with was Wow. Wow, she hadn’t known she could feel like this. Wow, she felt good. More, she felt different. And wow, she didn’t know what came next between them. She didn’t have any experience with this sort of thing, didn’t know whether she should kiss him, compliment him, or get dressed and head back to her cabin.
Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m . . . ah . . . going to get a drink, if that’s okay.”
“Stay here. I’ll get it.” But the words were jumbled, and said into the pillow where he lay facedown, unmoving.
Okay. That answered the “should I get dressed and tiptoe out?” question. He wanted her to stay, at least for a bit. But he also didn’t seem to be capable of moving. Which was kind of flattering, really.
“You’re toast, pal.” She patted his rear. “I’ll be right back.”
Even though he hadn’t seemed in a rush for her to leave, she felt weird parading around his house buck naked. So she pulled on her clothes and carried her boots with her out to the kitchen. Still buzzing from what they had just done, she found tall glasses in a cabinet and ice in the freezer, and took a look around as she filled the glasses from the tap. The kitchen wasn’t bad, she decided. The layout would be nice with some organizing, but the raw wood fit the style and the undoubtedly killer view that would show through the windows during daylight. Actually the whole place had some serious potential. It just needed some pops of color, some blinds, and—
Oh, heck, she thought as the ice water found its way into her veins. She was mentally decorating his home . . . in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming.
She downed one of the glasses of water in three big swallows, then hissed at the ice-cube headache that followed. It was no worse than she deserved, though, and did a good job cutting through the post-orgasm fog. Because she might’ve gone into this with her eyes wide open, but somewhere along the way they had drifted shut. And now she was teetering on the edge of big trouble.
“Everything okay?” Foster padded in wearing his jeans and carrying his shirt.
His physique was drool-worthy, putting her hundred crunches a night to shame and making the well-loved part of her, the part that wasn’t panicking, think, Everything’s just ducky. But her head was backpedaling hard.
“I should go,” she said, pretty sure she hadn’t said those words in this context since college. “I’d like to look in on Lizzie and let her and Stace know I’m back, in case she’d rather sleep in the cabin tonight.”
His expression shifted, and for a second she thought she had hurt his feelings. But she wasn’t sure, and instead of debating, he pulled on his shirt. “I’ll take you home.”
“I drove myself.”
“So I’ll ride with you and walk home. It’s only about half a mile if you cut across the ridge.”
“I know the way. I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure why she
was arguing. It wasn’t that she wanted to get away from him, just that she needed to get out of his house, out of the sense of domesticity she hadn’t known she wanted. Maybe because she hadn’t wanted it until just now.
She was happy with what she had back home, and she didn’t want to leave here wishing for something else. It’s just the sex talking, she told herself. It’ll pass.
Maybe.
“I don’t doubt for a second that you can make it home safe on your own, but my ma would twist my ear if she found out I didn’t walk my lady right to her door at the end of the evening.”
My lady. The words warmed her even through the nerves, and she exhaled. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“Exactly.” He gave a low whistle. “Vader? Want to go for a ride?”
The border collie had looked like he was deeply asleep, but his head whipped up at the sound of his name, and at the word “ride” he scrambled to his feet and raced to the door, leaving a dog shadow of black and white hairs behind on his bed.
Foster had the sense to look a little embarrassed. “You okay with him coming? He’s clean. Just, well, shedding. But the stuff that’s falling off is clean.”
She laughed helplessly, not quite sure how this had gone from a walk of shame to a family outing, but glad that it had. “Why not? The more the merrier.”
So they pulled on their boots, piled in her Subaru, and made the short drive out to the main road, across the front of the ranch’s spread, and down the long driveway to the main house and the cabins beyond. It was strange to see the blazing lights after a week of fires and lanterns, stranger still to have him sitting beside her in the little car, with Vader panting in the backseat.
“We’re here,” she said needlessly, and yanked too hard on the parking brake. She fumbled with her belt as Foster got out, then swung open her door, nearly nailing him with it. She flushed, realizing he’d come around to open it for her. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to . . . well, you know.”
His quiet smile made things a little better. “At least let me get the cabin door.”
“It’s not locked.”
He held her hand for the walk up the short flight of stairs, and opened the door with a flourish. “My lady. Your chamber awaits you.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She started to sail on through, but then stalled at the sight of the empty cabin, lit by only a night-light, with Lizzie’s iPad charging in the corner and her pink sweatshirt tossed on the bed. After a week in a tent, it should’ve looked like heaven. Instead, the sight brought a spurt of panic.
“You okay?” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
She covered his hand with her own, but didn’t answer. It wasn’t his problem that it occurred to her at odd times that Lizzie wasn’t always going to want to be with her. Mute or not, she would grow up, go to school, move on. And it wasn’t his problem that she had started mentally decorating his kitchen, and freaked herself out.
“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she said, hoping he would let her get away with it.
He nodded. “I’ll swing by the barn and check on the girls. You go on inside and get some rest. Vader? In you go.” At his gesture, the dog came up the steps and padded through the open door.
“But—” She broke off the automatic protest, realizing that he had known. Somehow, he had known she needed company, and needed it to be uncomplicated. And, as usual, he had fixed the problem without fanfare.
“It’d make me feel better, knowing he was here with you,” he said simply. Then he leaned in and kissed her, a light brush of lips that lingered and deepened, and brought a musky hint of their mingled flavors. Along with a buzz of the heat they had so recently made together, and an echo of wow. Voice low and sexy, he said, “Sleep well, Shelby-sweet, and dream of me. I know I’ll be dreaming of you.”
She didn’t say anything, just lifted a hand and pressed it to her lips, overwhelmed. He seemed to understand, though, because he smiled crookedly, tipped his hat, and walked off, whistling into the darkness.
She watched him go, watched until the whistle faded away and she couldn’t see his silhouette anymore in the distant lights of the barn. Then, suddenly feeling the chill through her thin shirt, she shivered a little and went into her cabin, which would’ve felt empty if it hadn’t been for the black and white dog curled at the foot of her bed, cheerfully shedding on the wedding-ring quilt.
• • •
The following day was a more chaotic changeover Saturday than usual, which was surprising given that the guests were all veterans and knew the routine. But a lost wallet, an unexpected food allergy, and a lost EpiPen meant there wasn’t a second for Shelby to get caught up in whatever she was feeling toward Foster. Which might have been for the best, since she didn’t know whether that was well loved, awkward, or anywhere in between, and the inner Ping-Pong jangled her nerves. Finally, though, the airport shuttle pulled out, giving her a quiet moment to pause outside the kitchen’s back door for a second and breathe.
Except that once she had the space to take a step back and think about last night, she realized she didn’t need the time or space, not really. First, because she’d been thinking about things on and off—mostly on—for the past twelve hours or so regardless of what was going on around her, and second, because despite her brief moment of panic, she didn’t regret what she’d done. In fact, she was proud of taking something for herself for a change.
I have a lover, she thought, and found that the concept fit better than she would’ve expected. “I’m having a summer fling with an incredible man.” She said it out loud this time, and the statement put a flutter in her belly and a smile in her heart.
“Well, somebody looks happy this morning.” Krista let the kitchen door bang closed behind her as she came down the kitchen stairs.
“I . . . uh . . . hmm.” Shelby didn’t quite blush, but it was a close call. “I’m glad the shuttle got off okay, and grateful for a couple of hours of peace and quiet. It’s such a pretty day, too. Not a cloud in the sky.”
Krista rolled her eyes. “The weather. Right. Silly me, I thought the goofy grin and the cartoon tweety birds fluttering around your head might have something to do with Foster. Rumor has it you were kid free last night.”
“Um . . .”
“I’m not angling for details. Just wanted to say that I’m happy for you both, and I’m here if you want to talk about it, or about anything. With or without brownie sundaes involved.”
Shelby exhaled, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath. “Thanks. I mean it. Foster and I are . . . Well, I’m not sure what we are, but I know I’m happy about it, and I think he is, too.” Unless he’d had second thoughts after she left last night?
“Trust me, he’s happy. I heard him whistling this morning while he picked a bunch of burrs out of Justice’s tail. And he hates picking burrs.”
“Well, then.” She was grinning like an idiot and didn’t care.
“He and Lizzie are out by the corrals behind the barn,” Krista said, with a thumb jerk in that direction. “They’re giving Lucky his first baby leading lesson.”
“Uh-oh. I hope she’s not giving him any attitude.”
Though there seemed to be less danger of that now. The foal watch had been a bust, with Princess hanging on to her baby for one more night, but Lizzie had shown up at breakfast with a big smile and a chorus of whistle chirps, conveying that she’d had fun and behaved herself, and wanted to do it again tonight. Whatever had been bothering her, it didn’t seem to have been her mom’s blossoming romance. And that was a huge relief.
“Go on.” Krista nudged her in the direction of the barn. “You know you want to watch. Trust me, there’s not much cuter than a kid and a cowboy working with a baby horse.”
Yes, this was her life, Shelby thought. And that was her lover they were talking about. “I’m on my way. Catch you later?”
“Count on it. And, Shelby? Have fun.”
“I will.” I am
. And wasn’t that a wonderful thing?
She wasn’t sure her feet hit the ground the whole way down to the barn, where Foster stood in Sassy’s paddock near Lucky, running a lead through his hands while the foal watched with his ears flipped forward and an intrigued expression that seemed to say, “Is it good to eat? Is it a toy? What is it?” Lizzie, rapt, leaned on the railing outside the broodmare’s paddock. Sassy stood nearby, content to let Foster work with her foal.
He seemed totally dialed into the little guy, but as Shelby came around the corner, his hat tipped up and his eyes went right to her, as if he’d been waiting for her. She missed a step, but kept coming, feeling like her goofy smile was suddenly lit from within. Don’t overdo it, she told herself. This wasn’t happily-ever-after territory, after all.
But it was happily—very happily—for now.
“Hey there,” he said, but his eyes said way more than that. They said, I was hoping you’d come. Are you okay?
“Hey yourself.” I’m good. I’m great.
“The bus leave?” I’m glad you’re here.
“Finally.” I wanted to see you. She included Lizzie in her smile and got a gap-toothed grin in response. “How’s leading practice coming?”
“We’re just getting started.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Stay and watch?”
“I’d like that.” It was that easy, she realized, that simple when new lovers were on the same page.
He nodded, satisfied, and he turned back to Lucky, in a move that Lizzie shadowed half a second behind him, putting a lump in Shelby’s throat. There was such a contrast between his weathered confidence and her wide-eyed determination, between his battered black hat and her pink pony helmet, yet they were both utterly focused on the animals.
“Okay, here’s what we’re starting with,” Foster said, crouching down by Lucky and scratching the itchy spot at the base of his mane, in a move that was pretty much guaranteed to get the little horse to stand still and crane his neck, wiggling his little nose in ecstasy. “He’s been wearing his foal halter all along, so that shouldn’t be an issue. And he’s used to seeing his mom being led around while he follows loose. What we want to introduce now is the idea of him taking information from a lead rope clipped to his halter.”
Summer at Mustang Ridge Page 20