Still the One

by Debra Cowan

  Chapter 7

  Almost an hour later, Rafe stood in the barn on his parents’ property. Frustration sawed through him, as it had since his conversation with Kit at breakfast. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Pointing out Kit’s responsibility to her family was not only none of his business, it was futile.

  Only Kit could change the way things were in her family, and she wasn’t inclined.

  She stood at the stall door behind him, watching quietly with those big eyes. The blue-gray depths were clear, interested, but he remembered how they’d gone dark with desire yesterday.

  He shoved away the mental image and tightened the cinch on Sugar, the palomino mare he’d chosen for Kit to ride. Sasha, the younger mare, was full of herself today; Rafe would ride her.

  Kit moved behind him, stroking Sugar’s nose and talking softly to the mare. He glanced back, noting the way Kit’s jeans gloved her tight little rear. Rafe determinedly pulled his gaze away. There was no way he could’ve stayed with her in the house.

  All he’d thought about since yesterday at the shooting range was how close she was to his bed, how she’d feel beneath him.

  He’d hoped that, out here busying himself with the animals, he wouldn’t be so aware of her. He didn’t want to feel this frustration, didn’t want to feel anything. She’d proved once again that when there were problems, she would still push him away, still wouldn’t let him help her. She hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t interested.

  He figured if he told himself that a hundred times, he might believe it.

  She murmured to the mare, and her voice slid over Rafe like silk on skin. Reminding him of her hands on him yesterday, the feel of her breath whispering against his lips. Her soft floral scent flirted in and out of the more potent smells of horse and hay and saddle leather.

  He shouldn’t have told her how he’d tried to shield her from more responsibility, shouldn’t have tried to justify his take-charge attitude. It didn’t matter. None of it did. All that mattered was finding Dizzy Lizzy and staying away from Kit until they did. He wanted her, and no matter how much that fact ate him up, it was still a fact.

  Even as irritated as he was, he couldn’t dismiss the changes in her he’d noticed, though her overdeveloped sense of responsibility to her family wasn’t one of them. She seemed more dissatisfied with Liz, more willing to speak her mind to him, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. Those differences intrigued him, planted maverick thoughts in his mind to see just what else might have changed.

  In college, he’d always been the one to lend an ear, to try to soothe away any troubles, but he’d never let her do that for him. At the time, he thought he would appear weak to her. Instead she told him at breakfast that she believed he’d never needed her.

  Well, it was better for her to continue believing that. He wasn’t going to let her hurt him again, and opening up to Kit had hurt written all over it.

  “This mare looks just like the one I used to ride.”

  “You rode Beauty. This is her foal, Sugar.” Down the stable a horse snorted, and Rafe grinned. “There she is, saying hello.”

  Kit turned, then moved down two stalls to where the mare stood.

  He pulled another saddle blanket from the weathered wooden wall behind him and shouldered his way past Sugar, who had her head buried in an oat bucket. Sasha, a black-and-white paint, sidestepped, then butted his chest with her nose.

  “Yes.” He scratched a spot behind her ear, then placed the yellow-and-red striped blanket on her back. “You can run today.”

  Just outside the stall, he heard Kit speaking softly to Beauty, and the sound torched something deep inside him, something cold and sharp that he refused to define. He needed a lead in this case so he could track down Dizzy Lizzy and Kit could be on her way. That’s where he needed to keep his mind.

  He tugged the saddle from the same wall that had held the blanket and settled it onto Sasha’s back.

  Kit stepped inside the stall, bringing that nibble-me scent with her again.

  Sugar blew out a breath and moved toward Kit, nudging her jeans-clad hip for a treat.

  “Nothing for you yet, baby,” Kit cooed as she ran a hand down the mare’s neck.

  Rafe clenched his jaw, tried not to remember how she’d grabbed onto him yesterday as if he were the only shelter in a twister.

  Sasha bumped him with her rump in protest, and he realized he’d yanked a little too hard on the cinch around her middle. “Sorry.”

  He patted the mare, then turned to Kit. “Go ahead and mount up. I’ll need to adjust the stirrups for you.”

  As she swung one trim leg over the saddle, the seat of her jeans pulled taut across her rounded bottom. His body tightened.

  Disgusted, he yanked his gaze away and moved beside the mare to find Kit smiling at him.

  “What?” He reached for the stirrup strap, unbuckled it and threaded it up two notches.

  She laughed, a soft, lively sound that pinged across his nerves. “Remember the first time you brought me out here?”

  He remembered a hot and desperate session in his car, which was probably not what she meant. “Yeah.”

  She patted Sugar’s neck. “I did all right on the ride until we were on the way back here and Beauty realized we were headed for the barn.”

  Rafe grunted, hoping she would stop with the memories before she worked her way to the one where he’d started. He stepped around to her other side, reached for the strap.

  “She took off like a shot, scared me out of my wits.”

  “You were howling like a wet cat.”

  She swatted at him. “I was not. I was…startled.”

  He grinned. Without thinking, he reached up and wrapped his hand around her calf to place her foot into the stirrup. Firm muscle flexed beneath his palm.

  He froze. So did she.

  He wanted to slide his hand up, cup the heat between her legs just like that saddle was.

  “You didn’t catch up to me until she’d stopped in the barn.”

  Kit’s voice was strained, as if she were forcing the words. Hell, he knew he would be.

  He clenched his jaw against the memory, but still it flooded in. He’d run his hands over her, making sure she was all right, and she’d fallen full into him, laughing, kissing him hard and deep. Her hands and mouth had been eager, inviting.

  “The horse wasn’t as rough on me as you were,” she said in a shy, tentative voice. “You grabbed me so tight, I could barely breathe.”

  So, she’d finally remembered. He glanced up and saw that color flagged her cheeks. She leaned over to fiddle unnecessarily with the stirrup he’d already adjusted.

  “Hey, I was trying.” He managed to speak without snapping. Slowly, he moved his hand away from her. “Beauty couldn’t be caught when she had the barn in her sights.”

  “You were scared,” Kit said. “I’d never seen you like that.”

  “You’d never been on a horse before. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” He gave one last tug on the cinch to make sure it was secure.

  “I was fine.”

  “Yeah, you were.” He saw in her eyes the memory of how they’d kissed with reckless abandon, how he’d dragged her to his car only to stop two miles down the road to finish what they’d started.

  “Rafe?”

  “That was a long time ago,” he said gruffly, fighting the urge to haul her out of that saddle and kiss her until he forgot that she’d walked away from him. “Shouldn’t have any problems with that today. Sugar doesn’t take off like her mother.”

  He ignored the hurt in Kit’s eyes, just like he ignored the want drumming through his veins. The way he’d been ignoring it all morning. Hell, ever since she’d popped back into his life. “You’re good to go.”

  She nodded, urged the horse to move into the middle of the barn, onto the packed dirt floor littered with feed dust and hay. He swung into the saddle and followed.

  He’d thought coming out here would block the images that had pl
agued him at the house. Images that involved Kit in his bed wearing nothing but him. Her little trip down memory lane hadn’t been good for either of them.

  As he guided his mare past hers, she followed, heading for the barn doors. She rode slightly behind him, drawn into herself again. Good, he decided, ruthlessly dismissing the urge to smooth things over. It wasn’t his job any more to comfort or protect.

  Just as they reached the barn’s wide double doors, two people appeared outside. Recognizing their silhouettes against the strong glare of the sun, Rafe groaned inwardly.

  “Rafe, we saw your car.”

  “Hi, honey.”

  Dale and Willa Blackstock stepped inside the barn.

  Rafe glanced back. Kit reined her horse to an abrupt stop behind his mare and shot a look at him. He saw panic then uncertainty in the blue-gray depths.

  “Hi, Mom, Dad.” His hold tightened on the reins.

  “You’ve got company?” his mother asked pleasantly. Squinting as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the barn, she started around his mare’s head, trying to get a look at who sat the horse next to him.

  His father snagged her elbow. “Willa.”

  Rafe saw Kit wince, then she urged her horse forward so that a wedge of sunlight fell full on her face. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Blackstock.”

  “Kit?” Willa’s tone was incredulous, and even Rafe picked up on the indignity beneath the surprise. “Kit Foley?”

  “I’m helping Kit with a case,” he said quickly, wishing that for once his parents would adhere to some sort of schedule. “We’re taking a break while we wait for a phone call.” He wasn’t opening up the whole can of worms about Liz.

  Kit started to dismount. “It’s been a long time.”

  “No, no, it’s all right. Stay up there.” Willa’s gaze went to Rafe, then to Kit. His dad just stood there, Choctaw features unreadable, but Rafe saw the questions in his black eyes. The warning.

  “I…hope you’re doing well,” Willa said stiffly.

  “I know this is very awkward.” Kit’s fingers knotted and unknotted the reins. “I’m sorry.”

  Rafe’s heart clenched. Whatever else they thought of her, surely his parents would admit she had guts.

  “Nonsense,” Willa said briskly.

  His dad nodded.

  “I hope everything’s okay,” his mom said. “Rafe mentioned a case?”

  “Mom.”

  “My sister’s missing.”

  Though he’d given her the opportunity to keep quiet, Rafe admired Kit for not dancing around the truth. She had to expect the disapproval that came into his mother’s brown eyes at the mention of Liz.

  “I hope she’s all right, that everything works out.”

  “I have every confidence that Rafe will find her.”

  His parents’ features both tightened. Dale pulled on Willa’s arm. “Let’s leave them alone to get on with their ride, hon. We need to unpack anyway.”

  Rafe threw his dad a grateful look and kneed Sasha into motion.

  Kit followed him out of the barn, then reined up in front of his parents. “I’m really sorry. I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me here today.”

  “No, but it’s all right,” Willa said firmly. “Good luck with your sister. I hope you find her quickly.”

  “Thank you.” Kit smiled weakly, said goodbye to Dale and followed Rafe out of the paddock to the open field behind the barn.

  They rode in silence for several yards. Kit looked pale, even more so in the glare of sunlight. Her mouth was drawn tight.

  “I bet that was the surprise of their lives. Nothing like coming home to find your son’s ex-fiancée.”

  “It’s okay, Kit.” Rafe fought the urge to move closer to her, to take her hand.

  “I never apologized to them for breaking our engagement.”

  “There’s no need,” he said tightly. His shirt collar suddenly seemed to choke him. He ran a finger beneath the neck of his cotton polo shirt.

  She nodded, but he could see she didn’t agree. His mom had handled it better than he might’ve expected, Rafe admitted, though he knew he’d get the third degree once she could talk to him alone. At least he could reassure her that he and Kit weren’t picking up where they’d left off, that this was strictly business. He’d had all the heartbreak he needed for one lifetime.

  Kit rode beside him quietly. So quietly that he could hear the tall grass swish against the horses’ bellies. Crows squawked and squirrels chattered in the grove of trees to their left. The fecund smells of horseflesh and leather gave way to the fresher scents of clean air and loamy earth. June sunshine buffed Sugar’s coat to spun gold.

  Rafe shifted in his saddle to peer into Kit’s face. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I feel badly. I never spoke to them at all after…. After.”

  “That was between you and me.”

  “Your mom probably doesn’t see it that way.”

  “Probably not,” he admitted, “but you weren’t engaged to her.”

  Her lips twisted. “True.”

  “Let it go, Kit. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

  The smile she gave him was so forced that it knotted up his gut. “All right.”

  He’d always wanted what his parents had, that sharing partnership, friends and lovers, trust both ways. He thought he’d found it with Kit, but she’d never been able to fully commit, at least not to him.

  In the barn, drawn by the past and the urge to kiss her senseless, he’d managed to keep his hands to himself. That’s what he had to do until they found her crazy sister.

  He thumbed a bead of sweat from his upper lip. Right. No problem.

  The horse was warm and solid beneath her. The fresh air and sunshine should’ve cleared away the haze of desire, but Kit’s body vibrated from Rafe’s touch. She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her leg, wanted to feel his touch all over. The thought of him touching her, kissing her because he wanted to, not because someone was watching, was enough to cause a fine sweat to break across her skin.

  How could she go from her anger of less than two hours ago to this craving for him? His words at breakfast echoed in her mind.

  I think you just couldn’t stand to give up some of that responsibility. Because if you did, you’d have to give up the guilt you feel over your mom’s death. And if you did give it up, who’d take care of Liz? Who’d be there to mother her? Your mom’s death wasn’t your fault, Kit.

  She rolled her shoulders. It was unease and not anger that skimmed through her. It was true Kit had stepped in as a mother to her sister when their mom had died; she’d realized that years ago, but who else was going to do it? Kit was responsible for their mom being gone. She was the oldest child; it was her duty.

  She guided her mare around a fallen branch. Her gaze locked on Rafe’s strong back as he led the way to the creek. The red knit fabric of his polo shirt molded the long muscles in his back, dipped into the ridges between his shoulder blades.

  He glanced and caught her staring at him. His mouth tightened. Looking away, he spoke softly to his mare, and she quickened her step. Kit automatically followed his lead, her gaze shifting to the strong, copper slope of his neck.

  She knew the red shirt covered shoulders that were bronze and broad, shoulders that had sheltered her more than once. By touch alone, she knew her way across those fluid muscles, down the hard arms that had drawn her into their protection countless times.

  She wanted to lay her head against that wide, tempered chest, skim her hands over his iron-hard belly to his narrow waist. His tough, sinewy thighs flexed as he guided his horse up a small incline. One broad hand rested on the faded denim of his thigh; the other hand held the reins loosely.

  As her horse trotted up the hill behind his, Kit forced her gaze from him. His stirrups disappeared in a patch of tall sunflowers. Taking the same path, she spied a sprinkling of wild pink buttercups and a handful of small purple flowers that miraculously missed being trampled by the ho
rses.

  Liz was the reason Kit was with Rafe, and he’d made clear he resented that. In the past, that had been more than enough reason for Kit to keep a wall between them.

  His words played again in her mind.

  Can’t let go. Why do you have to take responsibility for everything in your family?

  He looked back, his narrow-eyed gaze colliding with hers, peeling away every defense with a painless finesse that made her want to surrender her pride, her common sense.

  “Let’s race to the creek.”

  “Is that fair?” She cleared her throat, annoyed at the huskiness in her voice. “You know the way and I don’t.”

  “Over these two hills, then swerve right. Sugar will get you there.”

  “You’re on.” Without waiting for a cue, she gave her horse a swift kick in the flank, and the mare lunged, muscles bunching. She reached Rafe’s mare, gathered speed from a canter to a flat-out run. Kit laughed.

  For the first time in three days, she focused only on what was happening at this moment. Leaning low over the horse, loving the feel of the wind streaming past her face, Kit urged the mare on. She let the motion carry away all thoughts of Liz, of decisions to be made about her life.

  Beside her, she felt Rafe closing in. The ground beneath her shook with the force of his horse’s hooves. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he leaned low over his horse’s neck, gaining speed. Her horse jumped a shallow gully, and she laughed again.

  Rafe’s laughter rang out, too. He pulled even with her, flashed a wicked grin and passed her.

  “No way!” she yelled, tapping her heels against the mare’s flanks. Sugar picked up a little speed, her nose coming even with Rafe’s thigh.

  Both mares swung to the right. A hundred feet ahead, through a clump of pecan trees, the creek shimmered like liquid diamonds. Exhilaration swept through Kit. Rafe urged his horse to jump an overturned tree trunk.

  She squeezed her knees tight against the saddle and leaned forward slightly as her mare followed.

  Rafe reined up at the edge of the creek a second before she did. He was laughing, his eyes glittering at her in a way that made her senses swim.