by Susan Fox
“Lovers?”
Lovers. She liked that term much better than “sex buddies” or “friends with benefits.” It sounded gentle, affectionate, almost romantic. Not that her relationship with Ben was a romance. In truth, they really were only friends with benefits—but he was such an amazing friend and the benefits went so much deeper than a few, albeit wonderful, orgasms. “It would be hard to act like we were just friends, and I’d rather not publicize our relationship.”
He drank a long, slow mouthful of beer. “As you said yesterday morning. Before we really became lovers.”
She nodded and sipped her own beer.
“You don’t want people knowing you’re sleeping with me.” There was a slight edge to his voice. Almost as if she’d hurt his feelings.
Probably she’d misread him, but she’d hate to hurt Ben so she said, “You can understand why someone like me, who’s always been so private, wouldn’t want to broadcast that I’m having this . . . fling, or whatever they’d think it is. Can’t you?” She couldn’t bear it if people saw her very special, very intimate relationship with Ben as a tawdry hook-up.
“Guess I can.” He bit into his burger. A minute or two later, he said, “One day you’re gonna start dating again. Right?”
“I . . .” Would she? It was hard to imagine being with anyone other than Ben. But soon he’d be back to the rodeo life he loved. For years she’d believed that it wasn’t her destiny to have a happy marriage and children, but now she was a different woman, thanks to him. “I suppose one day I might.”
“Not every guy’s gonna want to keep the relationship behind closed doors.”
“No, I guess not.” If she was dating someone seriously, if they cared for and respected each other, there’d be no reason to hang on to her habit of privacy.
“When you find the right man”—he spoke slowly, deliberately—“you’ll want to broadcast it to the world.”
Would she? Into her mind flashed an image of her and Ben, strolling the streets of Caribou Crossing holding hands. Feeding each other bites of dessert across a table. Slow dancing in the bar at the Wild Rose and sharing a kiss on the dance floor.
Ben. He was the man she’d be proud to be with. But only if their relationship was for the long term, which it wasn’t. She had to be wary about letting herself care too much about this man who’d made her rediscover that being a woman could be a wonderful thing.
Would she ever find a man to love? If so, he’d have to be someone a lot like Ben.
“Sally?”
“What? Oh, broadcast it to the world? I suppose you’re right.”
He rose. “I’m getting another beer. Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
While he was gone, she finished her burger and split the remaining salad between their two plates. When Ben sat down again, she chose a more comfortable subject. “It was interesting talking to Lark and Jayden this morning.”
“The kid’s a charmer, isn’t he?”
“Oh, man, you can say that again. Who could resist?” The boy was spunky, smart, and loved horses.
He chuckled. “I figured you’d take him on.”
“Lark’s already scheduled a meeting for all of us with Monique.” It would be interesting to finally meet the physiotherapist she’d spoken to on the phone over the past months as they helped Amanda adjust to her prosthetic leg. “I’m looking forward to working with Jayden. I’m sure riding will help him.”
“It will.” He laughed again. “I’m remembering Robin Cousins spouting off about the benefits of learning new skills and connecting with horses.” His face sobered. “Those are two very different kids, aren’t they? It must be a tough proposition, raising a child like Jayden.”
“He’s totally worth it.” She’d happily have a child like Jayden.
“For sure.” Ben touched her bare forearm, his fingers a warm caress. “I’m just saying that special needs mean a big investment of money and time.”
She nodded and took a sip of beer. “And Lark’s a single parent. Fortunately, they have financial assistance from a charity for kids with disabilities.”
“That’s terrific.” Ben raised his hand to tweak a curl of hair off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. He lingered to stroke her earlobe and her neck, sending delicious tingles rippling through her.
“New clients mean more work,” he said. “Have you heard back from Corrie?”
“Not yet.” Ben would be gone soon. What would she do without him? Not only without his help, but without his company? She gazed at him solemnly. “You looked good in the ring, roping on Chaunce.” When she’d returned with Terry and Andrew, Ben had been giving Jayden and Lark a demo, moving in graceful, athletic sync with his white-and-bay Paint. “How did your shoulder feel?”
“Not bad.”
“Uh-huh?” she said skeptically.
“It’s healing. I don’t need my left arm that much. Chaunce has all the right instincts and he’s really responsive to my signals.”
“You’re a team.” How well she remembered what that was like. “It’s like you read each other’s minds.”
“Exactly.”
Ben had his life and he needed to get back to it. For some reason—probably because he was such a good guy—he felt responsible for her. But he wasn’t. She had to make him realize that. Needing to touch him, she ran her fingers lightly over the back of his hand.
“If Corrie doesn’t come back,” he said, “and you can’t find another assistant, I wonder if Heather might be interested in doing some stable work?”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll ask her.” She narrowed her eyes in a semi-serious warning glare. “And this is my problem, Ben. Having you help out is wonderful, but your life is on the rodeo circuit. I won’t have you staying here out of some . . . chivalrous instinct.”
“Chivalrous?” He gave a quick laugh. “Sally, damn it, we’re friends. We’re lovers. I care about you. I don’t want you working yourself to the bone.”
“Well, I care about you, too.” More than she should. “I’ll find a solution.” With the pick-up in business, she could afford to pay a decent wage to a part-time person. Not a live-in again; not unless she could find another woman. But she felt more confident about dealing with men. She could imagine hiring a guy to come and put in some hours. One with excellent references and a compatible personality. Maybe older, semi-retired. Or maybe a gay man. “The ad I posted was for a full-time live-in, but I’ll post another for part-time. There might be a local person who’d work a couple of hours a day, more on weekends. Even that much would be a big help.”
“Then start looking, okay? Tell your friends. Jess must know a bunch of horsey people.”
“Good idea,” she agreed. “I’ll tell my students’ parents, and the owners. Someone might know someone.” Someone had to, because she wouldn’t hold Ben back. “You need to qualify for the CFR.” The Canadian Finals Rodeo was at the beginning of November. “And I’m sure you want to make as much as you can before the season ends.”
“Right.” Ben frowned down at his beer bottle, annoyed at the reminder that he wasn’t in the same financial league as land and business owner Sally.
Rodeo was seasonal work unless you competed on the American circuit. That option was open to Canadians and he’d tried it back when he just rode broncs. But the costs and hassles—especially when you drove and toted your horse along with you—didn’t make it worthwhile. So he stuck to Canadian rodeo and each year hoped to make enough to tide him through the off-season. Then whatever he earned working for the horse trainer was gravy.
Most years, it worked out. He had some money put away. Not a lot, though. He remembered what Dave Cousins had said, about how a goal motivated you. Ben’s goal each year was winning at CFR, not saving to buy a ranch or start a horse training business.
He sure didn’t have anything to offer Sally.
Her voice interrupted his musings. “I’ll do the dishes then e-mail a few people and put the word out.”
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“Good.” As he drained his beer, he wondered why he’d gone off on that weird train of thought. He had years to plan his second career, organize his finances, and find the right woman.
If there was another woman as special as Sally Ryland. . . .
“Can you do the barn chores?” she asked. “We’ll be finished quicker. After all”—she rose, giving him a shy yet mischievous smile—“there’s that shower waiting.”
The shared shower. A jolt of arousal brought him to his feet. Why the hell was he contemplating the future when he was with Sally now? Before long they’d be steaming up her bathroom—and then her bed. He circled her waist with his good arm. “Now that’s an incentive.”
He kissed her. Only a taste, a promise of more to come. Then, whistling, he set off to do his chores.
He was cleaning tack when Sally came into the barn and headed for the office. She’d be sending those e-mails. He sure hoped they produced results, and soon.
A few minutes later, she dashed into the tack room. Her face was as bright and excited as he’d ever seen it. “Ben! Corrie’s coming!”
He pulled her into a one-armed hug. “She wants to come back? Sweetheart, that’s great.”
“It’s wonderful.” She kissed him, a darting kiss on his mouth. “I can hardly believe it.”
“What did she say?”
“That she’s been missing country life. That working here is what she really wants to do. She says she can be here next weekend. Isn’t that perfect? That’s likely when you’ll be ready to go back on the circuit, isn’t it?”
“You’re right. Her timing’s perfect.” Everything was working out and he was relieved. So why did he feel kind of flat, rather than sharing Sally’s excitement? “She’ll live here again?”
Sally nodded vigorously.
“So between her and Heather, you can get some time off now and then.”
“I can. And now I have a reason to take it. I don’t want to live like a hermit any longer.”
“That’s good, Sally.” He forced enthusiasm into his voice. It was more than good, it was great. Man, he was in a strange mood. “I’ll get that deer and rabbit fencing up before I leave, so you and Corrie can have your garden to yourselves.”
“That would be wonderful. Oh, Ben, your coming here was the best thing that could ever have happened to me. In so many ways.”
He gave a half smile. “Thank your sister for that one.”
“I have, and I will again. We’ve been talking every day. But I thank you, too.” Again she stretched up to kiss him, and this time it was a slow, lingering kiss.
She drew back in the curve of his arm. “Where and when can you catch up with Dusty?”
“Next Saturday and Sunday, we’re entered in the rodeo in Kennedy, Saskatchewan.” He and Dusty had discussed the possibility of Ben driving out to join him. Now, with Corrie coming that same weekend, Ben didn’t need to worry about leaving Sally on her own. So why was he hesitating? “That’d mean leaving next Friday.” They’d have just under a week more together.
“Or Thursday. It’s almost a twenty-four-hour drive, isn’t it? You should break it up, overnight. Otherwise, even if you take frequent exercise breaks, it’ll be a lot of strain on your shoulder and on your poor horse, standing in that trailer.”
“Guess you’re right. And Mom would like it if I overnighted with them in Calgary. So she can see for herself that I’m all in one piece.”
“So you’ll leave next Thursday,” Sally said softly. “That means we have almost a week.” She smiled, but the expression in her eyes seemed a little sad. The light in the barn was dim, so he couldn’t be sure. Still, he hoped that she too had regrets about saying good-bye.
“We should make the most of that time.” His voice was gruff. He cleared his throat and tried to lighten things up. “Starting with that shower.”
Now he saw a spark in her eyes, and she wriggled her pelvis against his. “That sounds like an excellent place to start.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It wasn’t dawn light, bird song, or her alarm that woke Sally the next Thursday morning. It was Ben’s kisses on her shoulder, his erection nudging her butt, as she lay spooned in his arms.
She kept her breathing slow, feigning sleep. Putting off the moment when she had to confront this day.
She loved lying this way with Ben. His arm holding her close, the warm solidity of his chest against her back, his legs bent to mirror the shape of hers all the way down to their feet. It was almost as intimate as when their bodies were joined. He was so there. Where she wanted him to be.
But this was the last time he’d be there. Today, he would drive to Calgary, where he’d spend the night with his parents. Then he’d go on to Maple Creek, Saskatchewan, and pick up Dusty and his horse. They’d been competing in a midweek rodeo. After that, Dusty could do the lion’s share of the driving as they headed east across the province to Kennedy.
Though she hated to think of Ben going, Sally was relieved that the time had come. She wasn’t sure she could survive another day with him.
She’d faced the truth in her heart. For her, love wasn’t about one day finding a man a lot like Ben Traynor. It was Ben himself. She loved him. For his sexy cowboy ways; for his chivalry; for the gentle heart that cared about horses, disabled kids, and women with wounded souls.
There would never be another somebody like Ben.
Yet again, her heart had chosen the wrong man. But at least this time she’d chosen a good one. One who had helped her heal, to become a strong enough woman that she could handle letting him go. She wouldn’t hide away after he was gone. She’d shop at Days of Your and wear pretty clothes; invite Dave, Cassidy, and Robin to come out for a ride and a barbecue; accept the next invitation someone extended to her. She’d get to know Corrie better, if the young woman was open to it.
Yes, Sally had her plan all worked out. And the first part of it was to smile for Ben and not let him know how much she was hurting. He needed to get back to the life he loved, and he needed to do it with the knowledge that she’d be okay. The last thing he needed was a clingy woman whimpering that he’d break her heart if he left.
They would be friends. They’d keep in touch. She’d have memories of all the wonderful time they’d spent together. It would be enough. It had to be.
She took a deep breath, gathering her strength, then sighed and wriggled against him. “Mmm, nice alarm clock.” Collecting the hand that lay across her chest, she brought it to her lips and kissed it, then placed it on her breast.
He toyed with her nipple. “You’re awake.”
Her nipple hardened. “More awake every minute.” She wriggled again, adjusting her position so she trapped his erection between her legs.
Slowly, he pumped back and forth, his shaft caressing her tender flesh. Drawing arousal and moisture from her. Brushing her clit.
This was how she wanted to make love this last time. Not face to face. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough not to cry if she gazed into his eyes. Better to do it like this, spooning, almost as if it were a dream. The final scene in an amazing dream that had transformed her and taught her she was a sensual, confident, loving woman.
“Condom?” she murmured.
Maybe he felt the same way she did, because he didn’t attempt to change their positions, not even to give her the first orgasm with his mouth and fingers as he so often did. In fact, he didn’t say a word, only stretched over to get a condom package, which he handed to her.
She opened it and reached down between her legs to sheath him. A large part of her didn’t want to do it. She wanted to create a baby with Ben Traynor. But it wouldn’t be fair, not to him and not to their child.
Protection in place, she tilted her hips and guided him into her.
“Sally,” he whispered as he slid in.
“Ben,” she murmured back. An affirmation that this was the two of them, lovers, joining their bodies. And their hearts. For she knew, deep inside, that at le
ast a small part of Ben’s heart belonged to her.
Shutting her eyes tight, she forced back tears and concentrated on the physical sensations, every single one of them. The building arousal, yes, but everything else as well. The soft brush of his breath against her sleep-tousled hair. The fresh aroma of morning air coming through the open, screened window to combine with their bodies’ scents of sleep and musky sex. The gentle creak of the bed, a rhythmic counterpoint to the sexy sounds of slick flesh coming together.
Outside, the birds gave their usual exultant welcome to a morning that Sally felt anything but exultant about.
No, she didn’t want to get emotional, at least not in a sad way. She should be exultant—grateful for everything Ben had given her and happy that they would remain close friends even if only by e-mail and an occasional phone call.
Slowly, he stroked in and out, one hand cupped around her breast. The movements were small, restrained compared to some of the passionate lovemaking they’d engaged in over the past days. Yet their very smallness made the sensations so focused and intense. Sally almost didn’t want to come, not for the last time, but he didn’t leave her a choice. Arousal mounted inevitably and she whimpered.
“Come with me, Sally,” he whispered against her hair.
Her heart stopped. For a moment, she thought he was asking her to come on the rodeo circuit with him. To be with him—but to leave everything she’d built here.
Then she realized what he meant, as his hand moved from her breast down across her ribs and belly, and gently he fingered her clit. Orgasm. Not a major life change. Not an attempt to control her life the way Pete had done. Not a desire to be with her a while longer. She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry, but she had to laugh, silently, at herself.
Then his deft fingers demanded her full attention and she pressed against him, helpless. Wanting, needing what he could give her.
And he did, driving the two of them slowly, relentlessly, to climax.
She shuddered in his arms, waves of pleasure rippling through her body as pain constricted her heart.