by Kira Blakely
“And you won’t.” He stands in front of me. “That was part of our arrangement, I believe.”
“Sure.” I stand my ground, don’t sweat it. “I swear I won’t touch her.”
It’s what Isaac wants to hear, what he needs to hear in order to let me stay, but even as I say the words, I don’t mean them.
I can’t mean them, not when she’s already intoxicated my body and soul.
“Good.” Isaac pats my shoulder. “Then we have an understanding.”
He heads to the door.
I sit back on the cot.
“Oh, and by the way,” Isaac says, and halts in the doorway. “One of the pipes at the house is leaking. Maybe you can take care of it later?”
I nod. “Sure.” Lauren will be there too. And so will daddy dearest, watching my every move.
Chapter 5
Lauren
I pout at the Google page on my computer screen.
For the past hour, I’ve been trying to find out who Chase really is. I’ve typed Chase Donner in the search box and gone through literally dozens of profiles.
I want to find out more about the man I’ve been fantasizing about. So sue me.
I haven’t been able to come up with anything, though. None of the Chase Donners I’ve read about match the Chase on the ranch remotely, not in looks or information.
I go to my bed, with a sigh, and place one of my pillows on my lap. I fidget with the top button of my pajamas, and my thoughts wander.
All right. So maybe he’s not active on social media. That’s possible and not entirely uncommon. Weird, maybe, but not uncommon. But I can’t find anything, not even anything about his Chef Donner dad or about how he got his injuries. Surely, something like that would be reported in the news somewhere?
If only I knew the name of his wife, maybe I could pull up her obituary or something. Kind of morbid, but okay. Though that wouldn’t prove anything about Chase, either, just tell me what I already know – that he had a wife and she’s dead.
I know so little about him. I hug my pillow and lie down, stare at the ceiling.
How can I know so little about the man I want so much?
Or maybe the question should be: Why do I want a man I know so little about?
Maybe that’s why I want Chase so much. Because he’s new and mysterious. Exciting. Dangerous.
But what if he’s a wanted criminal? What if the reason I can’t find anything about him is that he’s not who he says he is?
My thoughts are interrupted by a thud out in the hall.
I toss the pillow aside, spring to my feet and scramble out of my room.
Chase stands in the hallway, all 6-foot somethin’ inches of him, broad shoulders, breathtaking.
God, what’s he doing here?
He shifts and another shape sways into view: dad, hanging from his neck. He’s drunk again, the fumes pungent in the small space.
“I told Dad he should stop drinking since his alcohol tolerance isn’t as good as it used to be.” I walk to my father’s side and sling his other arm over my shoulder. “But he won’t listen.”
Chase grunts as he takes another step forward. “Guess that whole stubborn thing runs in the family.”
I don’t argue – he’s got a point and my father’s not exactly the lightest guy around. I struggle under his weight.
Chase sniffs then takes most of the burden. We drag dad into his bedroom at the end of the hall, and Smoke scurries in behind us. We lay dad down on the bed, and I place the blanket over him.
He stirs and grunts but doesn’t open his eyes.
“Thanks,” I mutter as I sit beside him. “I’ll take it from here.”
Chase’s gaze bores a hole in my back and I don’t dare meet it. I’ll drown in him again if I do. And who knows what will happen this time?
Just being in the same room with him makes me clench up, dries my mouth.
“Okay.” Chase finally leaves. The door closes behind him, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding.
I pull the covers up to Dad’s chin, then brush a kiss across his lined, weathered forehead. Smoke lies down on the rug beside the bed, with a huff-groan.
I get up and pat him on that white sweet spot. “You get some sleep, old boy.”
Another groan and brown doggy eyes drift close. Out for the count.
I head for the door, glance back at dad in the bed. He’s so frail and small like this. So old.
My shoulders sag. I’ve never complained about responsibility in my life, and I’ve always loved this farm, but studying in the city is a relief at times.
Guilt besets me at the thought. He’s not a burden. He’s an old man who needs help. He’s your father and he cares about you.
I shake my head, slip out of the room, and head downstairs to clean up. I’ll work off the dumb thoughts and doubts.
I grab the empty bottles of beer from the table in the living room and walk into the kitchen. My grasp slips and I catch the bottles from falling.
Chase stands beside the fridge.
Is he – is he waiting for me?
“Chase?” I look away from him and set the bottles down by the sink. “I thought you’d already left.”
“I was going to,” he answers. “Your father gave me a warning today. He warned me to stay away from you, Lauren.”
He takes a step closer, and his body brushes mine. He’s right behind me.
I tense up. “Then why are you still here?”
“Because I can’t heed that warning.” He takes tendrils of my hair in his fingers and brings them to his lips. Heat washes over me all the way down to my toes. My knees buckle, and I lean on the sink.
“I don’t understand what you mean.” It comes out as a squeak.
“You do.”
He grabs my arm and spins me around. His hands slip beneath my hair, and his mouth crashes down on mine.
I don’t respond. I’m too shocked to move. I can barely breathe. Chase sucks every breath out of my body, his lips crush mine, his hips pinning me to the edge of the sink.
I close my eyes and desire overtakes me, heat sears through every vein in my body.
I grab the front of his shirt, fingers twisting the cotton. I push up against him, part my lips and his tongue immediately slips in, and tangles with mine.
It is soft and warm and wet. My pussy’s the same, a stain forming in my panties as my body melts from the core. And the taste?
It’s sweet and slightly sour like the sauce I made for dinner but no alcohol. He’s completely sober this time. I’m the one who’s drunk, my head spinning and my knees so weak I lean against the sink as I let his tongue explore my mouth.
His hands slide down to my neck, his thumbs rubbing against my pulse points there. He pushes my head back, his tongue delving deeper into my mouth.
I wrap my arms around him, cling to him.
His other hand pulls me closer.
His bulge rubs against my pussy, friction through layers of clothing – my level of desire skyrockets to a new high.
Chase wants me, and god, I want him. Like I’ve never wanted anything in my life.
I moan as I run my hands across his back, arching up against him. He grips my hips and leads me away from the sink toward the table beneath the pots and pans.
He brushes the basket of vegetables aside, and hoists me onto its edge. The table quakes and creaks. I hit my head on one of the pans, and it rattles against the one beside it. I don’t care.
I bury my hands in his curls, my tongue sliding across his. His fingers work on my buttons, and I shiver.
He unbuttons the last one and pushes the shirt off my shoulders. I let it slide down my arms, then toss it aside. In turn, I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.
My gaze rakes over his chest, my eyes narrowing at the cuts and bruises on his pale skin. The stunted wheels in my head turn again - this man in front of me is a stranger.
I run my fingers over the biggest bruise between two mu
scles of his chest and Chase draws in a deep breath.
I withdraw my hand.
“What happened to you?”
“Nothing.” He places his hand beneath my jaw. “Just a minor accident. It doesn’t matter.”
Then his mouth descends on mine again.
Minor? What kind of accident?
My thoughts drift away as his hand cups my breast, the pad of his thumb rubbing against one engorged nipple. I gasp into his mouth, trembling. He does the same with my other breast, holding both in his palms and I moan, swelling, throbbing.
I want nothing more than to continue, to let Chase put his hand over where I’m aching the most. Instead, I wrestle back my thoughts and muster my self-control, pushing him away.
I want him but not like this.
“It matters, Chase,” I tell him, panting as I splay my fingers across his chest. “There’s so much I don’t know about you, like why are you really here. Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Don’t you have family, friends? Why are you on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, settling for living in a shabby barn that’s on the verge of collapse among strangers and a measly paycheck? And why do you take cash?”
He doesn’t answer, silencing me with a kiss. Again, I push him away, more firmly this time, as I jump off the table.
“And why are you wounded?” I continue. “What accident did you get into? Are you sure it’s an accident? Are you in some kind of trouble? Are you running away from something? Someone?”
“Lauren…”
“Are you really Chase Donner? Because I’m starting to believe you’re not.”
Still, Chase doesn’t answer. For a moment, he stares at me. Then he kisses me.
Again. And yet, this time, it’s different. His lips aren’t crushing mine. They’re soft, caressing. His tongue doesn’t conquer. It dances with mine. A slow dance, almost teasing, as his thumb moves back and forth across my cheek.
It’s a tender kiss and yet, it takes my breath away all the same. I clutch his waist with trembling hands, butterflies fluttering under my skin.
Then his mouth is gone, his cheek against mine as he holds me close. His breath tickles my ear as he whispers, “Stop looking for the real Chase Donner, Lauren. You can’t handle him.”
He kisses me again, deeply, tenderly, as he grips my shoulders, then looks into my eyes. “You should stay away from me.”
I nod, breathless. “I will.”
He lets me go, and picks up his shirt from the floor, then walks out of the kitchen in long strides.
I kneel on the floor where my shirt is, sitting on the linoleum as I put it back on. My hands are still trembling so it takes a while for me to fasten the buttons.
I finish up, then back into the wall, pulling my knees against my chest. I thought I’d finally get some answers but now, I’m more confused than ever. And frustrated.
I hoped Chase would trust me. I hoped he would see me as something more than some sheltered Daddy’s little girl. But he doesn’t. Worse, he wants me to stay away from him.
Fine.
I stick my chin out proudly.
If Chase wants me to leave him alone, I will.
I’ll show him that I don’t care one whit about him even if he is the most exciting thing to walk into Little Peace Ranch. Or my life.
* * *
The next few days are a bore. I barely see Chase. It seems he’s staying away from me. That’s fine. It’s strange, though, because I’ve never found life on the ranch boring, just peaceful. Now, peace is unattainable.
Still, I try to find it, either by whittling, cooking or playing the guitar.
One morning, I’m sitting under a tree by the storage barn, strumming the strings of my old guitar, and the clop-clop of hooves approach. I stop playing and rise, scan the horizon for my unexpected guest.
A chestnut Arab horse approaches and the woman on its back is radiant. Her blond hair flows from under her black riding helmet and bounces off her shoulders, her horse galloping in my direction.
Kelly Monroe.
The girl from the ranch next door who pops up every summer like the heat wave, the same girl I used to catch fireflies and take dips in the river with before she discovered Cosmopolitan and nail polish.
She spots me and her perfect lips curve into a smile above a pointed chin. She reins in her horse and comes to an abrupt stop a few feet away from me. It rears upward and whinnies. Its hooves crash down to the earth with a thud, and she jumps from the saddle in a practiced move that’s as smooth as silk.
She removes her helmet and shakes her out.
Yup. That’s Kelly. She’s outgrown a lot of things over the summers we’ve spent together – her braces, her ponies, climbing trees – but not her flair for the dramatic.
She’s grown some things, most notably the pair of mounds sticking out from her chest, the top of which are visible above the low round neckline of her red shirt.
Show-off.
“Lauren!” She presses her powdered cheek to my dust-covered one as she places her hands on my shoulders. “It’s so good to see you again. How have you been?”
“Good,” I answer, putting down my guitar.
She steps back to give me the customary once-over. “Your… hair looks longer.”
Of course, it is. I haven’t cut it since last summer.
I narrow my eyes at her. “And your eyes are green.”
“I know, right?” She flutters her eyelashes. “I’m wearing contacts now, not that there’s anything wrong with my eyes. I got so tired of my blue eyes, you know.”
Okay.
“So…” She crosses her arms over her chest. “What have you been up to this past year?”
I shrug. “College.”
Her face lights up. “You’ve finally gone to college?”
I nod.
“I’m so glad. College is so amazing! I mean, the men are so hot, totally different from the ones in high school, and the parties are out of this world. And the girls are cool, too. Last year, I got into this cool sorority where all the girls have Manolo Blahnik booties.” She touches my arm. “What about you?”
“I’ve been studying,” I say. “The university has a nice library and spacious grounds, plenty of trees to sit under.”
Kelly gives me a look of dismay.
“And one of my professors is really nice.”
She places her arm around me. “Anyway, I’m so glad it’s summer again. There’s something about being here in the countryside that makes me feel so alive.” She takes a deep breath. “Must be the air.”
I don’t answer.
She turns to me. “Besides, I get to see you, my oldest friend.”
I guess I am. She’s been spending summers next door since I was four.
“When did you arrive?” I ask her as we start walking.
“Just yesterday,” she answers. “I…”
She stops talking, her jaw dropping and her eyes growing wide.
Chase approaches, shirtless, sweating and with a bundle of firewood on his shoulder.
I look away.
“Good morning,” Chase mutters as he passes by.
Kelly’s jaw drops even further. I swear it’s dislocated. A snake about to devour its prey.
I place my hand on her shoulder, throwing her a look of concern. “Um, Kelly…”
“Holy shit,” she gasps. “Am I in heaven or…?”
“No. You’re still in boring Little Peace Ranch,” I tell her.
She furrows her eyebrows at me. “Then that guy is…”
“A farmhand.”
Chase puts his load on top of the large pile of firewood by the barn.
Kelly stares at him, toying with a strand of her hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I don’t have a sense of humor, remember?”
“Said who?”
“You.”
She looks puzzled.
“You told me last summer,” I say.
She bru
shes it off then nudges me. It’s more of a shove, really, and I almost lose my balance. “Why didn’t you tell me you had such a hot farmhand?”
“Um, because I only saw you today.”
She hooks her arm through mine. “Come on. You have to introduce me.”
I try to wriggle free of her hold and think of an excuse not to introduce her but I fail at both. We close in on Chase and halt.
Kelly clears her throat, and he turns around, wiping the sweat from his face with the towel around his neck.
As soon as our eyes meet, my breath catches. I lower my gaze and stare at the ripped muscles of his abdomen. Yes, the bruise is still there but it doesn’t take away from the beauty of that sweating six-pack.
I lower my gaze further, only to find myself staring at his crotch.
Shit.
I avert my eyes.
Kelly clears her throat again.
“Kelly, this is Chase,” I say. “Chase, Kelly.”
“Hi.” Kelly finally lets my arm go and steps forward to offer Chase a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Chase looks at his hand then shows it to her. “I’d rather not get your hand dirty.”
“How sweet.” Kelly simpers. “I live next door, by the way. Well, not next door, because there’s no door, but I live on the next ranch. I stay there every summer.”
“I see.”
“So…” She moves even closer to him, sticking her chest out. “How long have you been working here?”
“A few weeks,” Chase answers and fixes the firewood.
“You know…” Kelly touches his arm. “You can come work at our ranch if you like. I’m sure you’re a very good farmhand and we can pay you better. Why, we even have…”
This time, I clear my throat.
Kelly glances at me. “I’m kidding.” She turns back to Chase. “I keep telling Lauren she needs to have a sense of humor.”
I roll my eyes.
“Well, kidding or not, I’m afraid I can’t accept your offer,” Chase tells her, shrugging her arm off as he picks up another piece of wood. “I like this ranch, and Isaac pays me enough.”
I boil sunshine and rainbows – he’s happy.
“Ooh.” Kelly touches her chin. “He’s loyal. I like that.”