by Joanna Sims
“Do you want to join me?” she asked. It would be nice to have Gabe’s warm body next to hers while she dozed off.
He gave her one of his T-shirts to put on and it came down to her mid-thigh. She left her panties on but discarded the rest of her clothing. She got into bed with a happy sigh while Gabe closed the blinds throughout the house.
“How’s the temperature for you?” he asked, and she could hear that he was taking his clothing off.
“Perfect.”
Gabe joined her in bed; she could feel that he still had on his boxer briefs, which let her know that he understood that this wasn’t about making love. This was about her getting rest. The cowboy put his arm around her, taking one of her hands in his hand.
“We are an odd couple,” she said quietly.
“What makes you say that?”
“We’re so different.”
“In some ways.”
She laughed. “In most ways.”
He lifted his head to look at her face. “But not the ways that really count.”
She squeezed his hand hoping to reassure him. “It’s not a bad thing. At least I don’t think it is now.”
Bonita turned onto her back so she could look into his face.
“When we first met, I think I was afraid of starting a relationship with you because of how different we are. I thought that I needed a certain type of man to be happy. But then I started thinking about my parents’ relationship. They have been happily married for thirty years and they couldn’t be more different. They grew up in different countries, they spoke different languages when they were growing up—Mom is from a blue-blooded Boston family and Dad was raised in a poor family from Mexico City.”
She threaded her fingers through Gabe’s. “But they met and they fell in love and I’ve never seen two people more devoted.”
Bonita turned her body toward the cowboy and put her hand on his heart.
“Do you know that my grandfather, my mother’s father, didn’t even come to the wedding? He refused to walk his firstborn daughter down the aisle because my father was Mexican. But when I was born, my grandfather saw a picture of me...” Bonita smiled up at Gabe “...fell in love...”
“Understandable.”
“...and he reconciled with my mother so he could get to know his granddaughter.”
Gabe kissed her hand and put it back over his heart.
She caught his eye and held it. “I didn’t...say anything when you told me you loved me yesterday.”
“It’s okay.” He seemed to want to absolve her of any guilt.
“My mom told me recently to never be afraid to live my truth. She wasn’t afraid to live her truth when she married my dad over her family’s objections. I think that...maybe... I’ve been afraid of my feelings for you.”
Her hand still on his heart, Bonita continued, “My truth is that I love you, Gabe. I love you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bonita awakened from her much-needed nap to discover that she was alone in bed. She turned over on her side, hugged the pillow and thought about trying to go back to sleep. Noises drifting in from the kitchen caught her attention and made her decide it was time to get up and face the rest of her day.
“Hi,” she said to Gabe, who was standing at the sink, his back to her.
He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled when he saw her. There was always appreciation in his eyes when he looked at her. The man thought she was beautiful and was never shy about letting her know.
“How’d you sleep?”
He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a faded pair of jeans that were threadbare and white at the knees and around the pockets. There was something inherently sexy about this cowboy; he was lean, almost wiry, without an ounce of fat on his body. Every toned muscle was easy to see from his biceps to his chest to his stomach. The man certainly ate well, but he burned off a ton of calories with his work with horses and on the ranch.
Her ex had been in good shape—always at the gym—but it was different with Gabe. His body was hard from physical labor. His hands were rough and he carried the scars of years of working dangerous jobs in harsh conditions. He’d grown up in this part of the country, had worked the land since he was a kid, and Bonita had grown to appreciate his kind of raw attractiveness.
“Like a rock,” she said.
They met in the middle and wrapped their arms around each other. Gabe rested his chin on the top of her head and she sighed at the feeling of the warm skin of his chest on her face.
“I was going to go outside and get some work done, but I wanted to be here when you woke up.”
“I’m glad you did.”
They hugged each other in silence for several minutes, and even though Gabe didn’t try to change the mood of the hug, his body had other ideas.
Bonita tilted her head back so she could look up into his face; he rewarded her effort with a kiss. She stepped out of the hug, took his hand in hers and led him back to the bedroom. She knew what his body was craving because her body was craving it, too.
Bonita sat down on the edge of the bed, unzipped Gabe’s jeans and pushed them down his hips. He laughed at her forwardness, stripping his jeans off the rest of the way and tossing them aside. He left on his underwear, perhaps sensing that she wanted to unwrap her own present. She placed her hand over the outline of his erection, smiling a small, pleased smile at his quick intake of breath. She hooked her fingers onto the waistband of his boxer briefs and slowly, deliberately teased them down until his hard-on sprang free.
Not waiting for him to discard the boxer briefs, Bonita took him into her mouth. Gabe put his hands on her shoulders and groaned. As he had with her, she wanted to drive him a little crazy, but not to the point that they couldn’t continue to other positions.
“Bonita.” He said her name in a raspy, urgent voice. “That feels too good.”
Gabe stepped away from her only long enough to yank off his underwear off and pull his T-shirt off her body, exposing her naked breasts.
“God.” He laid her down on the bed. “You’re so beautiful.”
He began to kiss his way down her body, starting with her lips and her neck. He suckled at her breasts while his hand slipped inside her panties to ensure that she was hot and wet and ready for him. She had revved him into high gear and she loved it.
She helped Gabe push her panties down her thighs and out of his way so he could continue his trail of kisses south. The moment his lips touched her, she gasped. She couldn’t help herself. It was a bolt of sensations hitting her at once, making her arch her back and clutch the fabric of the blanket in her fists.
But he was impatient for her this time and she didn’t mind. She was impatient, too. He quickly put on a condom and met her under the covers. There was no more foreplay, no fanfare—with one arm bracing himself above her, his eyes on her face, Gabe reached between them and guided himself to her slick opening.
And then he was deep inside her; Bonita closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. She reached for him, pulling him forward so his weight was on her. He was intense with his lovemaking—different than before. Every stroke—every kiss—every touch of his fingers on her skin said I love you.
That was when she let herself go—let herself relax into his arms and let him take her on the most sensual ride of her life. The first orgasm came so quickly that it caught her off guard, and then a second, more forceful climax followed, driving her fingernails into his flesh. She could feel his muscles tensing and the change in his breathing as he built to his own climax.
Bonita did something she’d never done before—she opened her eyes to watch Gabe. There was sweat on his brow and his features were tense—his eyes were closed. He was so handsome to her in that moment. Her eyes still open, he hit a spot deep within her that made her orgasm in a completely different way—she couldn’t
stop herself from crying out in surprise.
Gabe opened his eyes and planted himself deep within her. As her last wave ebbed and she felt spent and weak in his arms, he threw back his head and growled in the back of his throat as he finished.
Her lover rested on his forearms while he kissed her forehead and her eyes and her cheeks and finally her lips.
Bonita looked up at Gabe and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I didn’t expect you.”
He captured her in the lovely depths of those aqua blue eyes as he said, “I didn’t expect you either.”
* * *
The last month of her mother’s life was a celebration. Aunt Betty arrived and the mood of the house shifted dramatically. A near carbon copy of Evelyn, Betty was bursting with energy, goodwill and wine.
“She’s not dead yet!” Betty complained immediately about the somber pall that hung over the ranch. “Quit acting like she is!”
Betty had brought her collection of jazz music and filled her mother’s suite of rooms with lively music. Windows were thrown open to let in the light and fresh air, and Bonita could hear her aunt’s laughter from just about anywhere in the house. They had gotten her mom out of bed several times to go down to see Jasmine. Thanks to Gabe, the horse still ignored the wheelchair and paid attention to the bucket of carrots in Evelyn’s lap.
It took a visit from her over-the-top aunt to snap Bonita out of her funk. Aunt Betty was right—her mom was still alive. She had been so focused on making sure prescriptions were filled and equipment was serviced and employee schedules ran smoothly that she had forgotten to enjoy the last moments of her mother’s life.
With her father’s help, Betty arranged for friends to be flown in from all over the world to visit Evelyn. Evelyn didn’t have the strength for long visits, so they rotated people in short, laughter-filled bursts. Evelyn had been dedicated to charity initiatives to support education and reading and fighting poverty. She’d been a competitive equestrian and loved to dance—Betty wanted all of those things highlighted.
Perhaps it was the energy brought into the house by all of Evelyn’s friends, but her mother lived much longer than anyone had predicted. It seemed that she was holding on until the last of her friends had arrived. After the last group of friends came to the ranch for a visit, it was as if the store of energy—the doctors called it the “last hurrah”—ran out. Evelyn fell asleep for three days.
“Can it be considered sleep if it lasts for three days?” Bonita asked the hospice nurse.
She only left her mother’s side for quick bathroom breaks. She had the nurses bring meals to her so she could be with her mother every second of the last moments of her life. And then, as if out of nowhere, Evelyn opened her eyes the morning of the fourth day.
“Mama.” Bonita had tears in her eyes as she leaned over so her mother could see her face. She kissed her mom’s cheek and hand and then called for her father, who had been holding vigil with her.
George raced to the other side of the bed. He kissed his wife and pressed his cheek to hers as tears streamed out of his eyes. It was the second time in her life she had seen her father cry.
“Te amo, mi amor.” Her father told Evelyn that he loved her and called her his love. “Te amo.”
It was as if she had wanted to hear that he loved her, just one more time, before she closed her eyes and drifted back into that coma-like sleep. Bonita crumpled forward, buried her face into her mother’s neck and cried tears of sorrow. It would be the last time she saw her mother’s eyes.
Two days later, the hospice nurses continued to administer medicine to make Evelyn more comfortable, but no one expected her to awaken again. Her breathing was so shallow and labored that it was difficult to imagine she was getting any oxygen at all.
“She can still hear you.” The hospice nurse put a hand on Bonita’s shoulder. “Hearing is the last sense to go.”
George and Betty had left the suite of rooms for a moment, and finally the nurses did as well. In a rare stretch of time, it was Bonita alone with her mother.
“I’m going to read to you, Mom.” Bonita opened Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet to the chapter on love and began to read the words aloud. It was one of her mother’s favorite books, and when Bonita was a teenager, Evelyn had given her a copy to read.
Bonita’s voice was choked with emotion as she read some of her mother’s favorite passages. Teardrops fell on the pages, and Bonita didn’t bother to brush them away. Then she felt something—sensed something—different.
She closed the book and turned to her mother. She lowered her head in sorrow, pressed her forehead into the mattress and took her mother’s hand and rubbed it over her hair, trying to re-create what her mother used to do ever since she was a little girl.
She covered her mother’s body with her own, hugging her frail shoulders. “Don’t leave me, Mom. Please don’t leave me.” It was a plea that Bonita knew would go unanswered. No matter how hard she held on to her mother, it was her time to rejoice with her Maker.
“I love you, Mom. I love you so much.” Bonita’s tears soaked the front of her mother’s nightgown. And as she said those words, her body exploded all over with a tingling sensation and chills. Bonita sat upright and stared at her mother’s face, and knew that it was over.
Evelyn was gone.
* * *
Life didn’t slow down after Evelyn passed away—in fact, for Bonita, things seemed to speed up.
There were obituaries to write and funeral arrangements to solidify. Evelyn had wanted to be buried in Montana instead of in the family plot in Boston, which caused an uproar with her side of the family. But George and Bonita planned to carry out her mother’s wishes. They did arrange for a service in Boston to be held for family and friends who couldn’t travel to Montana for the service. There was equipment to return to companies, final payment to be made for the nurses and CNAs. There was such a flurry of activity leading up to the actual funeral that Bonita didn’t have time to really mourn the loss of her mother. She had to switch into business mode and get things done.
Gabe accompanied her to the funeral, and upon her request, his brother Shane played “Amazing Grace,” her mother’s favorite hymn. It was a haunting, emotional rendition that had everyone in the church in tears.
But after the funeral was over and her mother had been laid to rest, that was when the weight of her mother’s loss began to hit. Betty went home, everyone who had been part of her mother’s health-care team had found new work, and her mother’s suite of rooms had been cleared of all the medical equipment. It was just her father and Bonita rattling around in that giant ranch house, with one geriatric Thoroughbred out in the barn.
That was when Bonita finally understood why her mother had sent her father on business trips toward the end of her illness—watching a depressed, emotionally lost George drifting around the house was too much. It only took Bonita a week to send him back to the business world where he could be productive and find a way to live his live without his love, Evelyn.
Once George was gone, Bonita closed all of the blinds throughout the entire house, making it dark inside even when it was noon. She only left the house to care for Jasmine and the rest of the time she spent under the covers in her bed.
Bonita was well aware that this was not what her mother would have wanted for her, but in the moment, it was her only way to cope.
* * *
Gabe didn’t see Bonita much during the month leading up to her mother’s death. He didn’t take offense to it—he understood. He kept himself busy with his clients and with Val. He wanted the Oldenburg to be have all of his kinks worked out by the time Bonita was ready to have him back at the ranch. And in a way, working with the Oldenburg kept him connected to the woman he loved. Even when he couldn’t be by her side, he was working on her behalf.
After the funeral, he had expected Bonita to start coming arou
nd. He knew she would be sad—that was to be expected—but he hadn’t expected her to fall off the radar. She wasn’t answering her phone, his texts, his emails or answering the door when he went to her house to check on her. This had been going on for weeks and he was thinking of ways to get in touch with her father through his brother Liam, who surely had the man’s phone number, when Gabe’s phone rang.
“Gabe? This is George. Delafuente. Bonita’s father.”
“Yes, sir,” Gabe said, relieved. “I was just about to track you down.”
“I haven’t been able to get in touch with my daughter. I’m here in DC. I can get there by tonight, but I’m worried about her. Would you go over to the ranch and check on her?”
“That’s just it. I have gone over there. She doesn’t answer the door.”
George told him the keyless code to the back door of the house and the code to the alarm. Bonita didn’t have a gun, so he didn’t have to worry about her accidentally shooting him.
Gabe didn’t wait to get on the road. He headed straight to the Delafuentes’ ranch to find Bonita. It was a sprawling house, and Gabe had only been up to the great room, but George told him where to find Bonita’s room. Once inside the house, he followed the directions to her bedroom.
The door was shut. Gabe knocked. “Bonita?”
He knocked two more times and then opened the door. The room was dark and a little musty, as if the air hadn’t been circulated for weeks. He could see the outline of Bonita’s body under the covers, but she didn’t move when he called out her name.
He opened the blinds to let in the late-afternoon light.
“Leave those shut!” Bonita’s head popped up off the pillow. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face and she was blinking her eyes and frowning severely at him.
“Heck no.” Gabe opened the next set of blinds. “It’s time for you to cowgirl up and get out of that bed.”
“I’m not a cowgirl.” Bonita pulled the covers over her head in an attempt to avoid the inevitable confrontation.
He unceremoniously yanked the covers off her body. “Sure you are. You just don’t know it yet.”