Sweet Talking Lawman

by M. B. Buckner

  “That feels so good,” she groaned.

  Rafe was beyond thought. This was instinct, pure primordial instinct.

  And then he felt the taut skin that held him back, effectively blocking his complete entry into her body. He dropped his head and kissed her deeply and with one hand reached down to massage the sensitive nub of nerves pressed against his turgid flesh. He withdrew slightly then pressed in harder and gasped when the barrier broke.

  “I’m sorry, Mesa. I didn’t want it to hurt you,” he growled, forcing his body to stop and give her time to recover, time to adjust and open to him. Gently he continued to manipulate the core of her arousal, not wanting her to miss any pleasure he could give her.

  Her hips moved up, claiming more of him as she stirred restlessly beneath him. He pushed in deeper and gradually her body accepted him, sheathing him in molten heat. He nuzzled her neck. “You’re so hot. So tight around me.” Slowly he withdrew, moving his hand away from her, allowing that hard nub of nerves to rub against his rigid shaft. He straightened his arms, lifting the top of his body off her, pushing deeper into her.

  She groaned as he stroked in again. Gradually he moved against her feeling the tension building in her body and timing his movements to bring her the greatest excitement. Then she arched her hips up, her body bucking, her inner muscles tightening around him, gripping his member tightly as he increased his movements until they both melded in a fusion of surging passion and heat. Ecstasy exploding within them both, a paroxysm of brilliant colors, a sense of weightlessness, a shroud of rapture coursing through in surge after surge, until finally they lay intertwined, basking in the warmth that held them together.

  Slowly he lifted his head and looked down at her. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded, a smile spreading her lips. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

  He groaned. “Oh, baby,” he lifted the unopened foil packet. “I got lost in you,” his voice was coarse as sandpaper. “I forgot to use this.”

  She shrugged. It was too late to worry about it now. Besides, how could she even think about it, when she wanted to purr like a well satisfied kitten? She smiled up at him. “Maybe we can remember next time.”

  Her whole life had changed on that night. Looking back she couldn’t believe just how much change it had been, but even knowing the hardships she’d faced, still faced, she wouldn’t change it if she could. She’d had more than a crush on Rafe Storm Horse. It had been that once in a life time love. She’d known it when she was eight years old and he’d helped her to climb up to sit behind Jenny on his Uncle John’s roping horse. She’d never once been interested in another member of the opposite sex.

  She paced the room, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to hold herself together while emotions and memories roiled in her mind. Almost an hour had passed when she heard a vehicle rolling to a stop in front of the cabin at almost the same time Jory and Raale came in the back door.

  In a state of panic, Mesa whirled and faced Jory. “Not yet, please.”

  From his height, he could see Rafe exiting the truck and reached to reclaim Raale’s hand, but it was too late. She’d heard the truck door slam and rushed over to pull the door open. The deadbolt prevented that however and Jory was able to reach her.

  “How about you and I walk down to the barn? Your mom has a problem that she needs to deal with and then she’ll come down and join us.” He knew she sensed Mesa’s tension and would want to stay to lend her support to her mother. “Maybe Bob has had time to find that saddle he mentioned.”

  Raale looked at her mom, her sparkling brown eyes stretched wide. “Is dat okay, Mom?”

  Mesa nodded. A solid knock sounded on the door. “Why don’t you look in the fridge and see if there are some carrots. I’m sure the horses would love a treat, but you have to let Mister Bob show you how to give it to them.” In almost the same breath she looked toward the door and spoke louder. “Just a minute.” She forced a smile at her daughter. “You and Jory can go out the back door. There used to be a path up to the barn, by the big rock next to the trees.”

  She waited until they closed the door behind them and then, with butterflies threatening to choke her; she turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open. Her heart lurched crazily at the sight of Rafe Storm Horse standing there. He looked so good. Tall, bronze, clad in snug, creased jeans, a black t-shirt, his shiny badge fastened to his utility belt, which also held a holstered gun, making this visit official business. His casual dress, the dusty boots and an Atlanta Braves baseball cap pulled low on his forehead did nothing to diminish his air of authority as he stood just outside the threshold and looked at her.

  “Mesa,” his voice sounded like satin being dragged over sandpaper and she tingled all over.

  “Rafe,” she nodded, pulling the door open. “Come on in.”

  He stepped across the threshold, Shirley on his heels.

  “I want her out of here, Sheriff,” Shirley started.

  Rafe looked at the older woman. “She’s your daughter, Miz Howell. Don’t you think that’s a little rash?”

  “Hell no, I don’t!” she shot back at him. “The only reason she came here is to drag Rance out of that rehab center and take over the ranch.”

  Rafe didn’t want to look at Mesa. Just knowing she was standing close enough to touch had his heart rate kicked up to racing speed, but he couldn’t avoid it. His eyes cut toward her and he swallowed.

  “Want to clue me in on what’s going on?” He asked.

  “I’ve come home to stay, Rafe. I still own one third of the Rocking H and I’ve been an absentee owner long enough. When and if Uncle Rance is able to run the place again, I’ll be here to help him, and until then, I’m here to do it for him.” She was surprised her voice sounded so calm and collected.

  “She gave up any interest she had in this place when she left!” Shirley’s voice was raised.

  “Do you have any papers you can show me that says that?” Rafe asked, hoping there was some way he could resolve this quickly and quietly.

  Shirley whirled to face her daughter. “Does she have papers showing she’s still part owner?”

  Mesa tried real hard not to smile. “As a matter of fact, Mom, I do. I made sure my lawyer, back in Branson, provided me with all the paper work. He’s been in constant contact with Dad’s and Uncle Rance’s lawyers over the years. Just let me get them.” She turned and walked to the stairs where she faced them again. “Have a seat, if you’d like. It might take me a minute to find the envelope they’re in. We haven’t unpacked yet.”

  Rafe’s eyes followed her up the stairs. We haven’t unpacked? He wondered who we might be. Jenny hadn’t mentioned anything about Mesa getting married. Come to think of it, until word got out that she was coming home, Jenny didn’t mention her at all. He glanced at the door, pondering how he’d react to a husband walking in. Anger surged through him at the thought.

  He turned around and looked at Shirley silently for a few seconds before he walked over to a chair and sat down. He resisted the urge to ask her just exactly who we was, but then decided she probably didn’t know either. After only a few seconds he got up again and walked over to look out the window at the lake behind the house. He hadn’t had so much adrenalin pumping through him since the last time he’d been with Mesa. This was something he hadn’t been prepared for. He had to get a handle on it. He couldn’t let her affect him this way. Damn, she’d said she was home to stay! What were the chances of him being able to avoid running into her occasionally? Slim to none. If this was the way it was going to be, he wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with it. He pulled in slow, deep breaths, hoping to slow his heart rate and pull himself together. He could hear her moving around in one of the upper rooms and jumped like a startled deer when Shirley spoke from the couch.

  “Are you always so wound up? You act like a long tailed cat at a rocking chair marathon.”

  Rafe turned and looked at her. “You know she’s got every legal right to be here and the
papers to prove it, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she does. We’ve got a lot of issues to put to rest and that won’t happen until we deal with all the anger, hers and mine.” She rubbed her hands on the legs of her black jeans. “I’ve been sitting on that porch talking to my shrink and she thinks that the sooner Mesa and I clear the air, the sooner we can build a new relationship.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Rafe breathed out softly.

  “Me, too,” Shirley shrugged. “I’ve blamed everyone but myself for all the problems in my life and it took me years to see who the real failure was, but I never realized what a terrible mother I had been until now.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s time I accept the blame for that, too. I wasn’t a good mother. Hell, I plead guilty to being a negligent mother, but I never physically abused her.” Shirley’s eyes filled with tears which she quickly wiped away. “She’s my child and I never even told her I loved her after I started drinking, and I sure as hell didn’t show it. I want to put all that behind us if we can, but we’ve gotta start somewhere.”

  “Have you tried just talkin’ to her?” He asked.

  “No point in it until she’s had a chance to unload all the hurt I’ve caused her over the years. I hope a good cat-fight might be what we need. It’s the fastest way to clear the air, but I think maybe I over-reacted when I called you. Of course, I do have a problem with her moving in here without bothering to talk to me about it. Like I don’t matter at all, and I still have no intention of being Rance Howell’s nursemaid.”

  Rafe swore softly. “I was leadin’ in the average at a jack-pot-ropin’, and you called me over here to referee a cat fight? Comin’ here probably cost me a thousand bucks!”

  She shrugged again. “You’re just doing your job. I’m not going to apologize for calling.”

  Rafe heard Mesa’s steps on the stairs and turned to look as she entered the room, his eyes drinking in the sight of her walking across the floor toward him, a white envelope in her hand. She walked up to him and held it out. Her direct approach surprised him and slowed his reaction time and it took a long moment before he took it from her hand, his eyes looking steadily at her. He stifled a groan. He could smell her and his heart almost jumped out of his chest. He shook his head slightly to gather himself and forced his attention to the paper now in his hand. He unfolded it and quickly glanced over it before he turned and handed it to Shirley.

  Giving her plenty of time to look at it, he continued to inhale the smell of Mesa. He’d never wanted anything in his life as bad as he wanted to touch her. His fingers tingled and he rubbed the tingle onto the back pockets of his Wrangler jeans. Finally he looked directly at her again. “So, how’ve you been?”

  She shrugged uncomfortably, not looking at him. “Fine,” she replied, finding it hard to stand there under the intense scrutiny of his chocolate eyes. Feeling the need for words to fill the space, she spoke. “Jory and I sold the club.”

  “So you could come home?”

  She nodded.

  Realizing Jory was part of the we he’d been so concerned about gave him a sense of relief.

  “What’s he gonna do?”

  “Take care of me, just like always. That’ll never change.” She looked up at him, noting the sparks of amber lighting his eyes. “He’s down at the barn.”

  “Who’s down at the barn?” Shirley cut in, pushing the papers back toward Rafe. “Have you dragged some man in here to shack up with?”

  Mesa turned her attention back to her mother. She smiled, humor easing her tension a little. “That’s right, Mom. I learned all about that from you. Remember?”

  “Well, I’ll make damned sure my accountant goes over the books regularly. None of my money will be going to support your lover!” Shirley then turned and walked out, slamming the heavy door behind her.

  Neither Mesa nor Rafe moved until they heard the sound of her car fading in the distance.

  “I’m sorry she called you out here, Rafe,” she said, when she was finally able to speak. “Would you like a glass of iced tea?” Then she shook her head, “I’m sorry. There probably isn’t any made since no one’s been staying here while Uncle Rance was hurt.” She turned to walk into the kitchen. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

  “None for me thanks.” He looked toward the front door, knowing that he’d move in that direction if he were smart. Instead, he found himself turning to look at her. “So Jory came with you?”

  She nodded. “Sure. We’re family.”

  Rafe noticed how long her hair had grown. With it pulled back in the clip at the nape of her neck, she looked almost like she was seventeen again. “How do you think he’ll fill his days while you’re out ridin’ with the hands? If I remember correctly, he’s not much of a country boy.” He looked around the room. It was strange to see her here, and then it hit him hard when he realized they were alone in the house. Just the two of them. His heart rate jumped up another notch.

  She was moving around the kitchen, searching the cabinets for the coffee pot without a lot of success.

  He couldn’t keep from watching her every move, and now he realized that the smell of her already filled the room. Or maybe it was the memory of her that filled his head.

  “He plans to start a small garden. It’s something he’s talked about doing for years, but running a night club doesn’t give a person a lot of time for a hobby,” she was saying as she searched for the pot.

  Rafe walked to the pantry door and pulled it open. Reaching in, he took the pot and carried it to the sink and filled it with water. Next he reached onto the top shelf of one of the cabinets and found the filters and placed one into the cradle. Then he lifted the canister that held the coffee from the top of the refrigerator and scooped some into the filter. He pressed the button and turned to look at her. “Rance invited me out to fish with him a few times and we’ve shared a few cups of coffee with our fishin’ stories.”

  “Thanks,” she said, not looking at him, not wanting him to see the way her heart was pounding in her chest. She knew she’d be affected by his presence, but she hadn’t realized how powerful that affect would be. Her insides were already trembling.

  “This is gonna be damned uncomfortable, Mesa,” he almost growled.

  That pulled her eyes to his. “What?”

  He chuckled dryly. “Are you tellin’ me you don’t feel all the electricity in this room?”

  She looked away from him, recognizing the familiar burn in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re lyin’.” He took the few steps necessary to stop in front of her.

  Mesa took a step back and became aware of the breakfast counter against her hips, nothing but his solid chest in front of her.

  Rafe rested one hand on the top of the granite counter on either side of her, effectively boxing her in. He breathed in deeply, openly savoring the smell of her. How many times had he dreamed of being with her again? “What are we gonna do about this?”

  Her eyes were locked on the plaid pattern of his shirt, refusing to look up at him. “Rafe, we need to talk, but not like this.” She hated that her voice had taken on a whispery note.

  “I don’t wanna talk, Mesa,” he whispered. “You look so damn good and you smell like all my memories of us. I don’t wanna talk. I wanna touch,” he leaned closer, his breath caressing her lips. “I wanna taste.” The final three words were a raw, husky whisper.

  With her heart threatening to burst from her chest, Mesa dropped her chin against her chest and lifted her hands, firmly pushing against his hard chest, savoring even that brief feel of him against her palms.

  He allowed her to push him back a little, but kept her blocked in. “It’s still here, Mesa. Just like it was in Branson. It won’t go away.” His voice was still husky and her hands against his chest were tingling with his heat.

  Then he swore softly and turned away as the front door opened.

  Chapter 4

  “Mister Bob s
aid de witch mobile flied away and I wants to be sure you was okay.”

  Mesa’s heart dropped when she heard Raale’s laughing voice.

  “Papa J couldn’t catch me and I woned de race.” Then she spotted Rafe and stopped. “Uht oh.” She recognized her father from the pictures she’d been shown again and again.

  Surprised to hear a child, he turned and looked at her as Jory hurried in behind her.

  “Sorry, Mesa. She took off before I could stop her,” the older man puffed. Then, a slight frown marking his forehead as he sensed the tension in the room, he looked at Rafe. “Hey, Rafe.”

  Rafe nodded his head, “Jory,” but his eyes were locked on the face of the child standing uncomfortably looking back at him. His heart was pounding like a sledge hammer and he suppressed the bile that rose up in his throat. He recognized those features. They were smaller on the child and more feminine, but he’d been seeing those eyes, that nose and those lips every time he looked in a mirror, all his life. She was his child!

  Mesa dodged around him, escaped the kitchen and hurried to her daughter where she dropped down on her knees. “Raale, I need you to go with Papa J again for a few minutes, without talking. Will you do that for me?”

  “But Mom…,”

  “Without talking.” Mesa repeated more firmly. “It’s important.”

  Raale was still looking at Rafe in the kitchen. Defiantly she pulled her eyes away and looked at her mother, those dark eyes sparking with inner fire. “I hate secrets!” she said forcefully, tears pooling in those chocolate orbs. “I won’t neber habe secrets when I gets to be a grown-up!”

  Jory scooped her up and hugged her close, allowing her to hide her tears against his shoulder. “We’ll go back down to the lake and feed the minnows we saw.” He snatched a piece of a loaf of bread as he exited the kitchen.