I Don't Want to be Married

by Sonja Gunter

  Allan set his half-empty cup of coffee on the table and chanced a look at Rosalind, who gave him a mischievous leer.

  Yup, time to get away.

  Rosalind watched her husband leave, enjoying the private knowledge he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  “Lordy, lordy is he hot,” she muttered under her breath.

  “No, I’m not hot. It’s comfy in here. I’ve completed the grocery list, unless you have something to add,” Helen announced, pushing the paper over to her.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, did she say that aloud? She took the list, not really reading it. Allan had her so out of whack, not to mention she could smell his cologne on her.

  “Okay, I’ll get you some cash before you leave for the store.”

  Helen pushed her chair back and went humming to the stove. For a moment Rosalind sat, unsure what to do. She was the one who usually did the cooking, now someone was taking care of her. Allan. Her husband.

  A pounding at the door snapped Rosalind out of her thoughts. “Now what?”

  “Want me to go see who it is?” Helen wiped her hands on a towel.

  “No, I’ll go.” She pushed out of her chair and headed to the front door. Pulling on the handle, it opened with a loud creak. Expecting a neighbor, the sight of Max holding the cut evergreen tree had her shoving the door wider.

  The Christmas tree. The woods. Allan kissing me.

  “Oh Max, thanks. Put it in the living room next to the window. I’ll get the tree stand.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He progressed slowly into the hall. Seeing he had everything under control, Rosalind descended into the basement and removed the bin labeled ‘Xmas’ along with the green tree stand. When she reached the landing, Allan stood there.

  “Let me help.”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” she said sternly. She tightened her hold on the bin, unwilling to let him become a part of her traditions.

  “Why are you so stubborn?”

  Without warning, he snatched the red plastic container from her arms.

  “Fine,” she huffed and lifted her chin higher. “I’ll go get the others.”

  Again, Allan was there waiting. This time she handed the container to him without a word. With the last one in her hands, she ignored him and carried it into the living room, leaving him in the doorway.

  The fresh cut pine was perfectly placed in the middle of the window. All the bins were opened, ready for her to take out the decorations.

  “Did Max leave?”

  “He’s in the kitchen with Helen. He commented about you not practicing today.”

  “Oh, right. Something else popped up this afternoon.”

  The words slipped out before she realized how sexual they’d sounded. Rosalind caught Allan’s smile.

  Why do I keep thinking of sex? Or his naked body? Crap.

  “If you don’t need me for anything at the moment, I’ll finish moving my things,” Allan stated.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Yes you are. Nice ass,” he whispered and slapped her butt.

  “Ohhhh.” Rosalind lurched forward from the impact and spun around to glare at Allan. He didn’t turn, only strutted down the hallway.

  She never thought it would be this hard to ignore him. Definitely a ladies’ man, he had her bewitched.

  Damn.

  Lifting a box of ornaments, her tears fell sporadically when she hung a special ornament which reminded her of her parents, Grandpa Rodney, or Sam.

  I can do this. No. I should put these away and start fresh with new ones.

  “It’s a gorgeous tree. What on earth are you putting on it? Those decorations don’t look like Christmas ornaments.”

  So engrossed with selecting and hanging items, Allan’s voice surprised her. She turned. He held and inspected a three-inch cactus with a Santa hat on one of the branches.

  “A cactus. It’s a Christmas cactus. I suppose you decorate with colored balls, wreaths, and angels,” she replied with a smile.

  “Not balls or angels. I hire a service. They bring in a ten-foot tree decorated in white lights and a variety of Christopher Radko ornaments.”

  Rosalind couldn’t stop from chuckling. Allan’s confused look made her laugh harder.

  “It figures. My family has always decorated our trees in Southwestern décor. We went against the normal traditional things.”

  An array of western boots, chili peppers, coyotes, and cactuses adorned the branches. Each one had a red Christmas hat or strands of Christmas lights intertwined around them. Allan looked closer at several items on the tree and touched a few.

  “What do you use as a tree topper? A bull?”

  “No, a cowgirl angel,” she stated with a hint of laughter.

  Instead of a smart-ass comeback, he sidestepped around the tree to stand next to her. Rosalind’s smile disappeared, once again lost when she felt his masculine magnetism.

  “Do you know what I do to women who find enjoyment at my expense?”

  She hesitated and lifted her chin a notch higher to look at him. “What? Take them shopping?”

  “No,” Allan said and gently placed his hand on her check. “I teach them a lesson by . . .”

  His fingers slid softly on her lips. They parted slightly as she moistened them with her tongue and leaned in.

  His lips smothered hers.

  Oh my gosh. I don’t want him to stop. I’m tingling all over. I want this forever.

  The kiss went on for eons, neither giving in to the other, allowing their hunger to take them to new heights. Allan’s arms encircled her, one hand in the small of her back. She did the same, cupping his superb ass.

  The clatter of dishes came from the kitchen, clearing Rosalind’s thoughts. She moved out of his reach, knowing Mrs. Knutson might chance upon them in a lip lock embrace. To make it harder for Allan to pull her into his arms, she went to the opposite side of the tree.

  “If that was your form of punishment, I might have to continue with my bantering,” Rosalind taunted in a silky tone.

  She selected a strand of chili pepper lights, smiled, and held them possessively in her hands while stroking them innocently.

  “Can you help me hang these properly? Sometimes they . . .”

  To her astonishment she was in Allan’s arms again.

  “I warned you before about teasing,” Allan mused and buried his mouth on hers again. This kiss was demanding, making her knees tremble, and passion radiated from her soft core.

  Did they have time? Would Mrs. Knutson mind if they were late to dinner?

  The forgotten chili pepper lights fell from her hands as she wound her arms around Allan’s neck, drawing him closer. Another delicious shudder heated her body as his cool palm touched the warmth of her breast. His hardness pressed against her. Freeing one hand, she reached for him and unzipped his pants.

  With no fabric hindering her search, she cupped his growing hardness.

  Chapter 26

  “Yeeee . . . I’m—I’m sorry. Dinner is ready.”

  Rosalind thrust Allan away from her in time to see Helen’s surprised expression before she spun and bolted away.

  “You can hold my chili pepper anytime, all you had to do was ask,” Allan whispered. He zipped up his jeans and wiggled his groin in a sensual way, then followed Helen into the kitchen.

  Rosalind leaned against the wall for support. He was going commando, same as she, which had her stomach tingling in a peculiar but exciting way. She lifted her hand to her thumping heart, then touched her swollen lips.

  She wasn’t a teenager. Sex with Tom had been enjoyable. However, when they finished the deed, they’d been done. She pondered how different the two men were, understanding for the first time sex ve
rses love. Having very satisfying sex with Allan was like eating a pie with no crust. And here she was, wet from a simple kiss. And she couldn’t get enough of him.

  But he was leaving soon.

  She stepped over the fallen lights, entering the kitchen in a dazed, exasperated state. The table was set for three, with Helen sitting in Sam’s old spot. Rosalind’s jaw clenched, but she forced the sadness to go away.

  “You outdid yourself, Helen. Everything looks so tasty. And smells wonderful,” she said, avoiding eye contact with Allan.

  “Thank you, dearie. It’s my pleasure. Breakfast might be inadequate, since there isn’t much left to work with.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Time got away from me this past week,” Rosalind grumbled, not wanting to look at Helen, afraid she’d mention what she’d interrupted by the tree.

  As Rosalind chewed her third biscuit, she felt Allan’s foot run up and down her leg. She jerked in surprise then tried to stifle her reaction as she peered at Allan. He snickered and winked at her.

  How was he doing it? She still felt on fire from their kisses. Was she special to him, or only his new plaything?

  Helen waved her hand and smiled. “No worries. I know what I need now. I’ll go to town after breakfast for groceries.”

  “Would you like me to drive you?”

  Rosalind rolled her eyes at Allan’s chivalrous ladies’ man performance.

  Good thing I’m immune.

  “No. I’ll go alone. You’ll slow me down,” Helen chuckled.

  “Excuse me, anyone want more coffee?” Not waiting for their replies, Rosalind tugged her chair away from Allan.

  “Yes, please,” Helen said.

  “I’ll take more too, and can you bring the sugar?” He asked nicely, she’d give him that.

  I’ll bring you sugar when the sun shines at midnight.

  She retook her seat, managing not to make contact above or beneath the table with Allan as she took a sip of her coffee.

  A sudden pressure between her legs unnerved her. Allan’s shoeless foot had staged its own invasion, pressing into her center. She reached below the table and pinched his toes, hard.

  “Ouch,” Allan muttered.

  “What’s wrong, Allan?” Helen queried.

  Rosalind sat with her arms on the table, innocent as could be. “Yes, is there a problem?”

  “I bit my tongue. I hope it doesn’t swell,” he replied and stuck out his tongue for an inspection.

  Rosalind rolled her eyes. “It does look swollen. Maybe we can finish in silence.”

  She felt his foot begin to make its way up her leg again, but she kicked it away and glared at him.

  “Max delivered the tree,” Helen commented. “He told me you haven’t practiced for the competition yet. What are you thinking, little missy?”

  “I’m not sure if I should compete. So I’ve decided not to go,” Rosalind admitted.

  Allan stared open-mouthed at her. “Not going? Why not? Isn’t this what you’ve trained for your entire life?”

  She has to go.

  If she didn’t, she’d never know if she would’ve won. He remembered what it was like not wanting to go to meet his next foster care parents. Or not placing an order to buy stock because he’d questioned his instincts.

  “Yes, but it doesn’t—”

  “You’re going. It’s what your parents would’ve wanted. It was important to Sam, too. There are no buts. I can’t let you concede so easily,” he stated.

  “I only did it to get my inheritance. I don’t need the purse. The land is gone. I don’t want to race anymore. My heart’s not into it.” Rosalind hung her head.

  Well, he’d accomplished what he’d originally set out to do. She was defeated. He’d won. The satisfaction he’d normally experience with success never came. Instead, regret surged through Allan.

  Somehow he had to correct what he’d done.

  “When I was moving my things, the new owners called,” he began.

  “You talked to them and didn’t tell me right away?”

  “I didn’t get an opportunity to tell you. We were—I was helping you trim the tree.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “They’ve agreed to lease us the land.” He paused as her eyes sparkled, her blush very evident before she lowered her head. “Of course there will be a fee,” he added.

  “How much? Did they say? When can we start building?”

  “Slow down. They’re supposed to email the forms. I haven’t seen anything yet. Once I receive the information, we can look at them together.”

  Gone was Rosalind’s crestfallen frown. It was replaced with a look of total exhilaration.

  This has to work, damn it. I’ll make it work.

  When she stood and paced around the kitchen, Allan willed away his desire to carry her upstairs.

  “This is wonderful.” Helen placed her hand on her heart. “Those poor horses will finally have a good home. The whole town has been buzzing about it since they heard you were gonna open a sanctuary.”

  “I have to talk to Max. He’ll need to prepare Dawn for me to ride in the morning. And the course should be fresh. Guess I better take the first place purse of a hundred thousand after all,” Rosalind said breathlessly.

  The next thing he knew she was gone. Allan looked at Helen. “I guess it means you and I are on KP duty.”

  “Oh no, I’ll take care of everything.”

  “If you insist,” he replied and winked.

  Helen shooed him out. Allan glanced into the living room, but there was no sign of Rosalind. He noticed her coat was missing from the front hallway rack.

  Good. He had time to set things in motion.

  He took the stairs two and three at a time. When he reached his new room he called Tiffany.

  “Hello, Mr. Smith.”

  “Tiffany, I need a land lease contract for the land I purchased. Make it out to Rosalind . . . no, to both of us. On second thought, have it addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Allan Smith. I’ll fill in the figures.”

  “But . . . you already own the land.”

  He stepped to the window and scrutinized the barn.

  “Yes, I do. But Rosalind doesn’t.”

  “Right,” Tiffany replied.

  “Any further info on who’s been posting the pictures?”

  “Paul’s narrowed it down.”

  Allan watched Max, along with two other men, set up plastic barrels in the fenced area. “I want cold hard facts by tomorrow. And send the contract ASAP.”

  “Yes, Mr. Smith.”

  They hung up. Allan opened an email from his lawyers. His face hardened as he gripped his cell phone.

  I don’t have time for this bullshit.

  Clicking off his phone, he grabbed a clean pair of boxers and a towel, then headed to the bathroom for a shower.

  How could he get Rosalind to admit she loved him?

  I’ll turn on the charm. She won’t know what hit her.

  Chapter 27

  “Hello?” Rosalind hollered when she returned to the house. No one responded.

  “Hey!”

  Still no answer. The only sound she heard was running water. She proceeded toward the kitchen and found it dark. She went to Helen’s bedroom. The door was closed and there was no light peering out from under it.

  Safe until morning. I won’t have to explain myself.

  She headed upstairs. Allan’s door was open. Unable to resist, Rosalind peeked inside. It wasn’t very different from how Sam had kept the room. He’d changed out the bed quilt to a thicker comforter. She grinned. It was the one she’d used on cold nights. His suitcase lay open, empty. His laptop sat on the nightstand with his iPhone. Overall, a very neat person.


  The sound of pipes rattled loudly as the water was shut off, a sure sign Allan’s shower was finished. Quickly, she stepped into the hallway and eyed the bathroom.

  Would he come to her room? Should she go to his? Maybe he’d want to finish what he started earlier, next to the Christmas tree. Would she want him to?

  Before she could choose an answer, the bathroom door flew open. Rosalind couldn’t move. She was rooted to the floor like a tree in the ground. Her jaw dropped.

  Allan stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob, and the other on the light switch. His hair was wet, a towel thrown over one shoulder, its end pointed toward his plaid boxers.

  “Oh my,” she groaned and zoomed past him with her head down, until she reached the safety of her bedroom. Before she closed the door, Rosalind took a second look at Allan’s bare masculine chest and the six-pack she knew was real. When her eyes flicked to his clean-shaven face, he sported a grin.

  She staggered backward and slammed the door, then leaned against it, debating if she should reopen it and invite him in. Her body cried ‘yes.’ She tightened her grip on the handle, ready to push down.

  Crap. I need to take a shower and go to bed, alone.

  About to move away from the barrier, she heard his footsteps. They stopped outside her door. She held her breath.

  Would he knock? Or disregard formality and come in?

  The floor creaked and she heard his door shut. Rosalind breathed again. She grabbed her robe and towel, opened her door, and scampered into the bathroom.

  She turned the dial to cold and stepped into the shower, closing her eyes to think of how he stood naked in this very spot a few moments ago. Warm gushes of desire coursed through her body in spite of the cool water easing her overly heated skin.

  Fantasies of him became suffocating. The water that ran down her breasts suddenly became Allan’s hands. The droplets slid down her skin, forming into his fingers, following in streams to her stomach and lower. Lifting her head, she let it roll backward until the spray of water hit her face to shake away her imaginary Allan.