He cocked his head to one side. “Which is why I run it, but you get the title.”
Aunt Jana raised her eyebrows, her lips folding into a smirk of amusement. “You’re fooling yourself if you think I have anything.” She glanced at Arlo, then leaned to Everett, lowering her voice even further. “As long as that man is alive, all of this is his,” she hissed, gesturing with big arm movements all around her. “We all work for him as long as he’s alive.”
He leaned away from her, his brows furrowed in pure disgust. “And with good reason.” He shook his head as he stepped back away from the bed, “because you’re far too selfish to be entitled to anything.” The words slipped out of his lips like poison.
She drew her slim body up to his, fearlessly standing her ground. “Are you really going to argue with me about who’s entitled to what?”
He flinched and sucked in a few deep breaths, treading his anger. When he was sure that he could move without impulsively throwing Aunt Jana out the window, he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.
***
Paige stood in the center of the massive library on the second floor of the ranch house. She squinted through her glasses at what looked like a line of preserved classics toward the top of the shelf leaning against the far wall, then pointed her pencil at it, cocking her head to one side. After a quick, internal debate she decided to go for it. Immediately to her right was a stepping stool. She had only secured one foot on the bottom of the step before she heard a noise behind her. She turned just in time to see a shadow disappear down the long, narrow hallway outside of the library. Hoping it was Everett, she followed.
When she reached him, she saw his sadness. “How is he?” she murmured as she sat down next to him, feeling his pain just in the way that he sat there trembling.
He shook his head, a slight movement that she would have missed had she not already been watching him so closely. “Dying,” he muttered.
Her heart curled up in her chest. She couldn’t believe the kind of trap she had accidentally walked into. Dying? How could she fix that? What could she do about a grandfather who was dying? About a man who was hurting?
Touch?
She placed a tentative hand on the back of his head and rubbed it, her fingers intertwining with his thick head of hair. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. He lifted his gaze and she could see the intense look in his eyes, the desperation in his piercing gaze. Before she had time to process, he pulled her closer to him, dropping his legs so that they could press their chests together. He clutched the back of her neck and drew his face toward her. She could feel the desire lurking just beneath the surface of his skin, could feel herself responding to it with every bone-trembling chill.
In one, swift movement, he stood up, pulling her up with him, then turned, slamming her hard against the wall. She grunted, hitching her leg up to his waist and pressing herself as close to him as she could. As he drank her in with every new second of kissing, she felt that every part of her could touch every part of him, from the tips of her fingers right down to the depths of her soul. He dragged his hand up and down her thigh, leaving her swooning with hunger and desire. Before she knew it, he was lifting her up, her legs straddling his waist, and they were stumbling down the short hallway.
Eventually, he broke into what looked like a small reading room and shut the door behind them, locking it with one hand while continuing to grip her close with the other. She tightened her legs to help him hold her up. Barely breaking contact with her lips, he sat down on the couch with her still straddling him. She vaguely realized that this was it. This was the last first before there was no turning back, and she wasn’t afraid.
He held her tight, hungrily, his hands finding their way to every inch of her body. He moved his lips to her neck and his hands made their way under her shirt. He moved them up her sides and paused just below her bra, flicking his thumbs up teasingly. She moaned. He brought his hands around to her stomach and gently moved them to the bottom of her flannel shirt, pausing to lightly rub just inside her waistband for an antagonizingly short time.
Then he pulled back and looked down while he pulled his hands out of her shirt and began unbuttoning. He pulled the shirt back over her shoulders and moved one hand softly across her cleavage, hitching his breath. He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly along her collar bone.
Paige leaned her head back and closed her eyes, swimming in the passion, and spoke to him with her mind, I love you, Everett. She bit her lip to keep from speaking the words out loud, lest she should break the moment and scare him. She opened her eyes to see the ceiling and wondered at what she had just admitted to herself. Before she could continue with her thoughts, another moan escaped her lips as his hands pulled her shirt off her shoulders and arms. He flung the shirt across the room and moved his attention to her bra. She couldn’t breathe when he had freed her breasts and brought his mouth to them. She pushed him back and swept her hands to the cuff at the bottom of his tight T-shirt. She paused while he moved his arms up and she brought the shirt up his abs and chest and over his head, reaching up to pull the shirt off his arms. She sent that shirt to join hers behind the couch. He pulled her up onto her knees and began unbuttoning her jeans, then he pivoted on the couch, moving her to her back.
After all of their clothes were piled on the floor, he pressed his bare skin against her. She could feel the warmth on the surface of her chest, in her back, and between her legs, and as he entered her, she could feel him in every inch of her being. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the two of them rocked together, harder and harder, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their hands clutching each other, scratching at each other.
She mumbled as she felt her body stretch across the entire world, as her fists squeezed shut and her toes curled, twitching in ecstasy, as he joined her at the height of their passion.
“So beautiful,” he breathed, as he collapsed on top of her.
“I didn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “I don’t know what words could possibly make me feel better.” Then he kissed her in the most gentle and genuine way, and continued, “But I know this feels right.”
Chapter Fourteen
Paige stood, a cautionary hand trained on Penelope’s body as she watched Everett work on the fence of an old pasture. His body tensed and relaxed with each movement, his rough hands working deftly and efficiently so that they could finish as soon as possible. According to him, they had a lot to do that day.
He glanced up at her, but with distant eyes.
She stared back at him, hoping that he would shed some light on what was going on in his head, but before the gaze grew abnormally long, he reached toward her, his hand an open palm, and muttered, “Wrench.”
She sighed as she snatched the tool out of the metal box that sat open next to them. “Honestly, Everett, I really think it would have made more sense if you would have just let someone else do this.”
He answered without looking at her. “Why? I know what I’m doing.”
She scoffed. “That’s not what I meant, Everett, and you know it.”
“I can’t trust anyone else with maintaining these fences,” he muttered darkly.
She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you haven’t trusted the right people with it.”
His hands froze as he tipped his head back, his eyes trained at the sky above them. “Look. I just want to do this by myself,” he snapped.
She cautiously took a step toward him, placing a hesitant hand on his rigid shoulder. She hated seeing him like this, but it seemed as if he rigorously fought every attempt she put forth at trying to reach out to him, to comfort him. With his responding to her every concern in this way, she was inclined to just let him deal with his grief all on his own. “Everett, have you even thought about things at all?” she demanded.
“Thought about what?” he pressed.
She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Everett,”
she called.
When he didn’t answer, she repeated herself. “Everett!”
But again, he just ignored her, so she kept talking. “Look, I know you’re just going to tell me that I don’t understand, but save your breath, because I do understand, much more than you know.”
He stopped working and looked at her. “What do you mean?”
She squatted next to him, took a deep breath, and looked at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. This was not something she ever talked about. “My mom died when I was fourteen,” she said quietly.
He reached toward her, but before she could continue, the distinct sound of hooves hitting the hard ground soared through the air. She turned to find Ethan riding toward them at maximum speed, his hair flying all around him in the late afternoon wind. “Everett!” he yelled.
By the time Everett turned and stood up, dropping his wrench back in the toolbox, Ethan had reached them. Before he even opened his mouth, Paige could tell from the look in his eyes that there was something profoundly wrong. His lips were contorted into an ominous frown, and his brows were meshed together in an expression of the utmost concentration. “What’s going on?” she started, but looked only at Everett.
“It’s Arlo—” Before Ethan could finish this statement, Everett was mounting his horse.
She followed, effortlessly climbing onto Penelope’s back.
“He’s had another seizure. He’s barely conscious. Aunt Jana just called an ambulance,” Ethan explained as Everett adjusted his reigns.
He barely waited to catch his bearings before completely launching into full speed back in the direction of the house.
“What do you mean, he’s barely conscious?” Everett demanded over his shoulder, thick voice trembling with the movement from the horse.
“I don’t actually know. I didn’t see him. Ellie went out to the barn looking for you.”
Everett gave no reply but continued to ride, edging his horse faster and faster along. Paige tried her best to keep up with the two of them, tightening her core as much as possible so that she could maintain her balance on a horse that must have been traveling at breakneck speed. They finally turned the last bend, and the majestic house swept into view. She let out a sigh of relief, but the sight of an ambulance sitting right in front of the front door, its sirens cutting through the dense afternoon air, killed whatever semblance of calm she had managed to achieve for herself.
As soon as they came down the last hill, the three of them were thrust into the chaos that was Rock Creek Ranch. All the ranch hands were standing around, excitedly chatting with each other about what was happening. Two paramedic officers stood by the ambulance, muttering something into their headsets. Before his horse had come to a stop, Everett jumped off, running full speed toward the front of the house. Ethan also jumped off his horse but disappeared around the back of the barn toward the garage.
Paige stood idly in the middle of the driveway as the world seemed to spin around her. She sucked in breath after breath until hot July air became cold to her nose. Until it was not sunlight that beat down on the back of her neck, but rain; until she was not in the front yard of a house she had not lived in long enough to call her own, but the otherwise quiet street in front of the town house her parents used to own. The world spun as she swayed back and forth. Her muscles trembled, her bones shaking in their sockets, compelling her to do something. But just like on the morning of the death of her mother, there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop anything that was happening.
Her breaths came in short rasps as Everett re-emerged from the front door, helping two other medics carry the gurney that held Arlo. Aunt Jana followed right after, a slight furrow in her brown, but her movements otherwise constant and steady. Paige leaned in their direction, her eyes trained on the old man; she saw nothing but a mass of limbs and skin, haphazardly covered by a thick thermal blanket.
The roar of a truck ripped her attention away from the scene. She turned to find Ethan driving one of the pickups. He screeched to a stop next to Paige and Ellie and gestured for them to climb into the cab. Ellie jumped into the passenger seat, but Paige hesitated, throwing one last glance at Everett, who was climbing into the back of the ambulance. Aunt Jana stood with her arms crossed, her face contorted in an expression that could only be described as serious. She reached out to help the medics shut the door. As soon as the lock clicked shut, the driver zoomed off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Paige could just make out Everett’s face through the glass, his eyes bloodshot, a singular tear carving its way down his cheek.
“Paige!” Ethan barked, ripped her out of her observations.
She looked up to find both Ethan and Ellie staring at her. She climbed into the truck, Aunt Jana following, and braced herself for the ride ahead.
***
“He doesn’t have much time.”
Everett looked up from the particular square on the linoleum floor that had occupied his attention for the last two hours of waiting.
A doctor with an earnest face and brown hair darkened by the gel he had used to keep his center part in place stared down at him.
Everett fought to keep himself under control, to keep from replying with a sarcastic remark about how obvious that was. “Okay,” he replied in a non-committal voice.
“What does that mean?” Aunt Jana demanded, immediately standing up.
Everett glanced at her for as long as a momentary impulse would allow, then looked away. The excited gleam in her eye, the one she did a terrible job of concealing, was starting to make him sick. “I think that’s obvious,” he muttered.
She ignored him. “What do you think we should do?” she asked the doctor.
The doctor looked at Arlo’s frame, lifeless and frail, then grimaced. “I’d advise you to keep him here. On his own, he’s got . . . maybe two weeks? But here, you could probably get close to two months with him.”
Aunt Jana nodded.
“So we keep him here,” Everett replied, taking the words right out of her mouth.
Then, out of nowhere was a small, raspy voice. “No.”
All three of them looked at Arlo. “What?” Everett demanded, crossing the room to his bedside in three short strides.
Arlo gave a swift shake of his head.
“You can’t be serious. You don’t have a chance on the ranch like this!” Everett exclaimed.
But Arlo’s jaw was set in a way that Everett wished he did not recognize. “I don’t have a chance at all.”
“But—” Everett protested, his heart fluttering with his urge to fight where Arlo could not.
“I’ve two good weeks,” he croaked. “I’d rather spend it in my own house.”
Everett opened his mouth to say something else, but Aunt Jana got to it first.
“He’s right,” she replied.
Everett glowered at her, but she ignored it, turning her attention to the doctor. “There’s no use in dragging out the inevitable. It won’t help anyone,” she explained.
Everett wanted to protest, to somehow try to get it in her selfish mind that more time was always better. “Arlo—” he started, returning his gaze to his grandfather, but he was lying peacefully, with his eyes shut and his chest rising and falling with each thin breath.
***
Arlo was resting comfortably in his own bed thanks to the pain meds the doctor had prescribed. Jana sat in the rocking chair, in the shadows, watching, thinking.
At last she stood and walked across the waning sunlight hitting the floor to stand next to him.
“Arlo?” Her voice sounded foreign to herself. “It didn’t have to be this way, you know. But you left me no choice. My whole miserable life, I’ve done nothing but what you told me to do. I married that silly ranch hand even though I was in love with someone else. Because you wanted me to. I stayed here and raised that bastard after that whore died, because you wanted me to. I deserve this ranch. I’ve paid my dues.” She leaned forward to see his face more clearly and spoke in a
low, dangerous voice.
“I’m your flesh and blood and yet you have given everything, this ranch . . . your attention . . . your love . . . to that ungrateful . . .” She raised back up, taking a deep breath.
“You miserable old man.” She laughed softly. “In the end, you’ve lost it all. And now you’ll be leaving this ranch”—she raised her hand to the window—“your precious grandson . . . me . . . with nothing to show for it.”
When she turned back to him, her eyes glistened. “It didn’t have to be this way Daddy.”
Chapter Fifteen
Paige hit the space bar on her word processor, an action that instantly generated a second page on her Word document. She quietly celebrated because she had finally crossed the great threshold of page two. She sincerely believed that this feature would simply flood out of her from here on out. Her celebratory smile faded as thoughts of Everett seeped into her mind.
She frowned. “Why do I always feel so removed from things?” she muttered to herself as she considered the fact that all of the ranch hands were in the barn drinking and talking to each other . . . without her. She stood up and made her way to the window, pressing her face against it and staring out at the night before her. The glowing light coming from the windows of the nearest barn confirmed her suspicions. She wanted nothing more than to feel included enough to go down there and just be with them. But what would she say? What could she possibly have to offer by way of conversation about a man she had only ever seen twice: once on a tour through the house and once lying on a gurney? She didn’t know a thing about him, yet her heart ached at the thought that she would never get to.
Someone knocked on her door. “Come in,” she mumbled as Everett pushed open the door.
Dare To Love A Cowboy (Canton County Cowboys 2) Page 12