by Maisey Yates
Sunny unexpectedly, then the storm clouds rolled in. And sometimes, a torrential downpour seemed almost certain, and then it didn’t come.
The trouble with her wasn’t her inexperience, it was the fact that she made him feel like he was the inexperienced one.
The fact that she made him feel like he had no idea what the hell he was doing.
“We are pretty tangled up, honey,” he said finally. “Our livelihoods. Our bodies. Our past. Our pain.” He gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to be a part of adding to that tangle, Clara. And I want to make sure I respect the boundaries we’ve established.”
“But I didn’t ask you to,” she said, her voice sounding dry. “You’re treating me like I’m more fragile than I am. And that’s just...that’s exactly what I’m tired of. When you leave—and I know you’re going to, Alex, I know you are—I want to feel stronger. I want to feel like I know how to do this. This man-woman thing. I want to feel like I have more to me than sadness and a ranch that doesn’t work. I want the ranch to be working and I want to know how to work it. And I want to be known for more than just grief. I want to be more than grief. I feel like this is a part of that.”
“So that’s what you think? You’re just going to orgasm your way to a better life?”
“Well, I’ve tried crying my way to a better life, denying my way to a better life and hermiting my way to a better life. Even if this doesn’t work, it seems like the more fun option.”
“I guess it’s as good as anything.”
She reached across the space between them, her fingertips touching his. “Better.”
Looking at her made his chest ache. She was so pretty. So hopeful in this moment. He wished he had the ability to have that much faith in anything. In sex, in someone else.
He pulled his hand away from hers and put the truck in Drive, pulling back out onto the empty highway.
They spent the rest of the ride in relative silence, and Clara rolled the truck window down partway, letting the chilly air filter into the cab. He turned to look at her, the sight of her upturned face aiming toward the air, her eyes closed, her blond hair whipping back behind her, doing something strange to the inside of him.
He turned his focus back to the road, and he kept it there for the rest of the drive.
Finally they pulled up to the Laughing Irish ranch, the grand, custom log home looking almost ostentatious for some reason. Maybe because he had been spending so much time at Clara’s more modest spread.
They both got out and headed toward the front door, and when he glanced at Clara he noticed her cheeks were turning pink.
“What?” he asked.
“I haven’t been here since we...well, that was the first time I came here. And it was the last time I came here.”
He tried not to laugh. He was unsuccessful. “That is an interesting double entendre.”
She wrinkled her nose and punched him with a closed fist, right in the shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Then don’t make it so easy.”
“You’re the worst, Alex.”
He didn’t know what came over him then, but he didn’t bother to stop it. He reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist, then walked them both backward until the post at the bottom of the porch stairs prevented any further movement.
He leaned in, pressing his nose against hers. “But you like it.”
“Hi, Alex.”
Alex whipped around and saw Lane standing in the doorway. He released his hold on Clara slowly. Clara was bright red now.
“Hi, Lane,” he said. “Do you know Clara?”
“We’ve met,” Lane said. “But I wouldn’t say we know each other. Nice to see you again.”
Clara nodded, looking like her face was about to catch on fire.
The look Lane was giving him turned hard. “Why don’t you come in for dinner?”
He pressed his hand to Clara’s lower back, and the two of them made their way up the porch. But on their way inside, Lane waylaid him with a firm hand to the center of his chest. Clara walked into the house, and Lane resolutely slammed the door shut, leaving Clara inside and trapping him outside with his cranky-looking future sister-in-law.
“What are you doing, Alex?”
“I’m about to eat dinner at my house, Lane. Is there something strange about that?”
“You want to eat the dinner that I made. Which means you have to answer my questions. Otherwise, I’ll throw you out to the barn with the cows.”
“Under whose authority?”
“My own, jackass. I don’t need to hide behind your older brother.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I’ve faced down scarier opponents than you.”
“Blah blah, soldier man,” she said, her tone dry. “Answer my question.”
“I did.”
“I want to know what you think you’re doing with her,” Lane said.
“I think I’m having fun,” he returned, feeling irritated that he was being put in a position where he had to justify himself.
“And you think that she’s the kind of woman you should have fun with?” Her brown eyes were glittering with something dangerous, and he had a feeling that if he didn’t give the right answer she was going to cut him in a vulnerable place.
“What the hell kind of fun has she ever had?” Now he just felt angry. Because sure, he didn’t have marriage and family and kids to give Clara, but she didn’t want them anyway. She had stated explicitly what she expected to get out of this. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t considered her feelings. He had. He wasn’t a damn monster. “She’s had a lifetime of crap. Beginning and end of story. If I can give her something else, I’m going to do that. And I don’t need a lecture from you, no matter how well-meaning.”
“You’re my little brother, Alex.”
“We’re the same age, Lane,” he said.
“Whatever,” she responded, waving a hand. “You’re Finn’s younger brother. Consequently, it feels like you’re my little brother. And if a good lecture is what you need, then a good lecture is what I’m going to give you.”
He didn’t know what to do with this. With this increase of people up in his business. He had spent most of a damn lifetime with nobody caring what he did. With a mother who considered him incidental—a failed experiment—and a father who had abandoned him outright.
His older brother had been way too busy dealing with his own stuff, and Alex understood that. But he had never had people—so many people—so interested in what he was doing.
He traveled light, and he moved a lot. This wasn’t anything like his normal existence.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s not something I haven’t beaten myself up over already. Anyway, it was your fiancé who suggested I go for it.”
She blinked rapidly. “Finn?”
The fact that his brothers obviously hadn’t gone and told on him immediately, but actually kept his confidence, warmed him. Slightly.
“He figured if she wanted it I should respect her choices.”
She made a strange sound in the back of her throat. “Of course he did. Just know that I’m watching you, Donnelly. I’m watching you closely.”
“Noted,” he said, putting his hand on the doorknob and starting to walk into the house. Then Lane grabbed him and tugged him in for a hug.
“I want you to be happy, Alex,” she said. Then she pushed him away, patting him on the shoulder. Alex was too stunned to respond.
Not just by her show of affection, but by this idea that he should be happy.
It had never really been a goal of his. Had never really been on the horizon.
“Thanks,” he said, his throat unusually tight.
“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ll let you eat dinner.”
>
“Thanks again,” he said.
“I’m very magnanimous.”
Then they both walked into the house, and the smell of the good food that Lane was cooking put some of what had just happened out of his mind.
Clara had been dragged off to a corner and was making conversation with Cain’s fiancée, Alison.
Cain’s daughter, Violet, was perched on a stool at the kitchen island, drinking a Coke and tapping her foot.
“Hi, Uncle Alex,” she said.
“Hey, kid,” he responded, because he knew it would make her mad.
She didn’t even gratify him with a scowl. “I didn’t know you were babysitting today,” she said, her expression bland.
He narrowed his eyes. “Brat.”
“Cradle robber.”
“Hey, when you’re forty and you come to Christmas dinner with a boy toy I’m going to owe you for that,” he said.
She frowned. “Is that what you imagine my future looking like?”
“Absolutely. Wealthy, eccentric woman with some muscle-bound puppy trailing behind you.”
“What future are you planning for my daughter?” His brother’s voice broke into his and Violet’s conversation.
“Don’t interrupt him, Dad,” Violet said. “It was just getting interesting. Now, this boy toy—which is a lame term, by the way, I prefer masculine devotee—do I have him on a leash?”
“And we’re done,” Cain said.
“Dad,” Alex said, affecting a mocking tone. “You’re so lame.”
“The lamest,” Cain agreed.
They served up dinner and, thankfully, it was something he knew Clara would like. Just basic spaghetti, with nothing overly shocking in the sauce. He wondered if Lane had remembered him telling her that Clara was opposed to onions.
The strangest thing about the entire experience was that it didn’t feel all that strange. It felt all right to have Clara here. She didn’t feel out of place, and beyond the first few encounters with Lane and with Violet, there was really nothing else out of the ordinary.
And as everybody made conversation around him, Alex did his best not to think too deeply about the fact that it didn’t just feel okay, something about it felt right.
* * *
CLARA FELT A little overwhelmed by the presence of the entire Donnelly clan. But fortunately they were also so talkative that the spotlight never seemed to be on her. Finn and Cain bantered easily with their fiancées. Liam, the brother Alex was closest to in age, sat there looking around the room, watchful. He was tattooed from his wrists up to where his bare skin was covered by his short-sleeved shirt. She had a feeling the tattoos extended underneath too.
Alex, for his part, seemed almost like a different person when he was with his family. He was always quick to smile, and quick to make a joke, but it was magnified now. As if he was keeping things almost determinedly light. Nobody seemed to be acting as though it were out of the ordinary, though, so she assumed that it was simply what he did. How he interacted with them.
“So how much honey do you think you can sell in my store in a month?”
Clara blinked and turned to look at Lane. “Oh. Right.” The honey. That was why she was here. Not for a meet and greet with his family, like they were a real couple or anything like that. She was here for business. That was why she had fought for this dinner.
“On average, I can get about sixty full mason jars of honey. And once I expand, I can do even more.”
“That’s great. I have some honey in the store, but from nobody as close as right here in Copper Ridge. And my focus is definitely to get things as local as possible. If working with you will allow you to expand, that would be great, because I have a lot of monthly boxes that go out beyond what we could carry in the store.”
Lane started to talk about the particulars of her subscription box service, and how she included sample sizes of local products. And Clara started to feel buzzed. If this worked out, there was a possibility she wouldn’t end up having to work farmers’ markets, which was all the better as far as she was concerned, since not having to be present when her products were being sold would enable her to get more done.
“Well, if we’re only doing sample-size jars in the box I’m betting I can provide you with enough to go out even now.”
Lane brightened. “That would be perfect.”
“And you know, once the bison get to the ranch, we can do fresh meat in the store, if you’re up for it. And if you want, I can look into making jerky. That would ship.”
Lane tapped her chin. “I’m very intrigued by that.”
Clara felt pleased that she had thought of the jerky idea on her own. “Obviously, I would have to wait and see how well all of that turns out, but we can start with the honey for now, and then when I have other products, I’ll be happy to bring by some samples.”
“Here’s the question,” Lane said, addressing the entire table. “I’ve heard that Clara here is quite picky.” She looked at Alex. “So, are you actually going to eat the bison?”
Clara wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure why I would do that.”
Lane laughed. “It’s good. And it’s lean. Anyway, I think you have to sample your own product, don’t you?”
“I might have to leave that to Alex,” she said.
“Well,” he responded, a strange smile frozen on his face. “I suppose I can sample it for you.”
“Before you...quit working at the ranch?” Clara asked.
She didn’t love the needy little sound in her voice.
“Yeah,” he responded, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Before the control goes to you.”
She wasn’t entirely sure she bought that explanation. She thought that maybe, just maybe, the first thing he had said was more accurate. It was just a strange response if he hadn’t meant anything more than when he quit working at the ranch in the capacity that he was. Because it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be around to try a bite of bison burger or something.
The Laughing Irish was close enough to her place for him to come by sometimes.
Yes, idiot, but he’ll be done sleeping with you then.
Yes, he would be, and in theory, she was okay with that. In theory, it was all good. In practice, it hurt a little bit in the region of her heart.
Dinner wrapped up, and at least on the score of making a deal with Lane, Clara felt good. When it came to Alex, she wasn’t sure.
“Can you give me a tour of the place?” she asked him, keeping her voice low as she approached after the family dispersed.
“All right. But you’ve seen most of the house.”
She wasn’t going to correct him by reminding him that, basically, the last time she’d been here she’d seen the living area, then had been carried straight up the stairs and directly into his room. Mostly because she knew if she brought that up, she was going to start having flashbacks to the afternoon when he’d taken her virginity, and the last thing she needed was for her whole face to turn bright red.
“Well,” he said, “we can start here in the dining room. This is the dining room.”
“Awesome,” she said. “You’re really good at this. If you ever get out of ranching, you could be a tour guide.”
“Sure,” he replied, leading the way out of the dining area and back into the kitchen. “I mean, I have traversed deserts. I suppose I could lead groups of tourists.”
“No doubt.”
He led her from the kitchen into the living room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the majestic mountain view. There was a large, river rock fireplace that Clara imagined was extremely cozy in the winter. She also imagined the downside to living in a place that was populated by so many people was the fact that you could not use the fireplace for what she was imagining it might be fun to use that fir
eplace for.
That was just evidence Alex had corrupted her in some way. Because it made her feel like she was right back in front of the woodstove at her own house, with Alex’s hands skimming over her naked curves. There had been a time when all she would have thought of when she’d seen a fireplace was how nice it would be to have a cup of hot cocoa in front of it.
But no. Now the only thing she could think of was how much fun it would be to have Alex ravish her in front of it.
“Living room,” he said. “Perfect for family game night or, in our case, family arguments.”
“Do you have a lot of family arguments?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t have them.”
Given what she had witnessed at dinner, she wasn’t that surprised. Alex seemed to argue with her with relative ease, but for some reason, he seemed to take the stance of being more easygoing and laid-back in the presence of his family.
He showed her a few more rooms, and then the two of them headed up the stairs. “Of course, I can’t possibly breach anyone’s privacy by giving you a tour of the bedrooms. But I can show you mine.”
She wondered then if that had been her entire motivation behind asking for a tour. Not because she wanted him to take her into his bedroom so that they could...well, maybe she wanted that a little bit. But she realized she also wanted to see his bedroom when she was in a frame of mind to actually look at it. Because the first time she had been in there, she hadn’t exactly taken in her surroundings. Well, nothing beyond the bed, anyway.
Alex pushed open the door to his room and left it open. Possibly as a sign that he wasn’t going to jump her. Not that she would mind if that was his intention. But she had a feeling he was still in this weird space where he thought keeping his hands off her was something she wanted or needed in some way.
She looked around the room and was surprised by how little it contained. Oh, it was full of furniture. There was a dresser made of roughhewn wood and a bed that matched. The bed itself was a kind of lodge-style with a plaid blanket spread out on it and matching pillows. It was neat. Tidy. And she imagined that had something to do with Alex’s military background.