“What was I thinking to let him go? Dumb move, right? My dad loved him. He didn’t have a son, so he was overjoyed with the prospect of Bentley, the outstanding athlete. The kind of son he would have wanted.”
“Things have a way of working themselves out,” Rafael said.
That was the wrong thing to say. Her tears started to flow in earnest now. He hated crying women. He wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for her, pulling her into his chest, a move that surprised them both. Her eyes widened, but she let herself be pulled, her arms wrapped around his waist. She stayed there for a while, giving in to her tears.
“You okay?” he asked, a few minutes later, when he thought her weeping had subsided. He brushed her hair with his hand, a subconscious desire to soothe. She’d grown quiet. She pulled back and gave him a smile, albeit on the watery side. She was a pretty girl with her smooth, dark chocolate skin and even darker, black hair. A silky jet cap covered her head.
“I will be,”” she said, looking into his eyes. “After I push all that useless stuff aside, put myself back on track. When you fall off a horse?”
“You get back on,” he finished her sentence. He just stood there watching her. He hadn’t let her go for some reason.
“So don’t worry. I was due for a long cry, because I don’t usually cry,” she said, looking at him. “Such a waste of time. Better to figure out how to make things work. Which I will do, or try to anyway,” she said.
It was quiet for a minute more.
“Hey, thanks for listening. That’s twice I’ve dumped on you. I wouldn’t have thought that you’d be so easy to talk to. Maybe it’s because I really don’t know you,” she said, wiping her eyes, pulling free from his embrace. “Thanks for stopping by. The horses are fine. I’m fine, just a little tired, a little emotional. Girls. What can you do?” she said, as she offered another fake smile, leading him to the front door.
“Call if you need something,” he said.
“Will do. Thanks again,” she said. She stepped in and placed a quick kiss on his lips.
“I don’t know why I did that,” she said to cover her embarrassment and laughed. “That’s not true, I do know why. Didn’t want you to leave here feeling sorry for me. I’m tougher than I look. I’ll be fine,” she said.
“If you’re sure,” he said.
“I’m sure,” she said, and closed the door on his dubious smile.
#
Tuesday, June 22.
All throughout the following day, Rafael found himself checking out her property for signs of life. He saw both the horses put out in her newly-mowed pasture. He must have missed her taking them out. He’d left her last night, more than a little worried about her.
“Carter Nicole Woodson,” he said out loud. She could joke and laugh, but for some reason, he thought he’d seen underneath her façade, thought he’d caught a glimpse of the hurt human underneath the tears and fake laughter.
He was sure she wasn’t even aware of the extent of her hurt. He only recognized it because he’d gone through something similar himself; that trying to be something other than what you were. He wondered if she had any idea how much it could change the person you were meant to be.
Her dad wasn’t much different from his parents from the sound of it. But he’d understood their reasoning. Hispanic and wanting to farm while his parents had wanted to escape from their past. Migrant workers did not want their children or their grandchildren farming. Likewise, he could understand the need for African Americans to move away from farming. So much of slavery had been working the master’s fields on his plantations. He understood.
His parents had wanted more for him and his brothers than they’d received. They wanted occupations that represented success. Wanted them to attend colleges that represented success, and after they were done, wear their success proudly, on their backs, in their cars, in their homes and wrapped around their arms.
But what if success meant something different to you? What if you yearned to farm, loved the way the earth felt in your hands? What then?
It was hard work, farming, even harder to make a living at it. Small family farms had to fight to survive against their larger corporate farming brothers. But it was what he loved. Where he thrived. Where his soul breathed. And good luck explaining soul and breathing to his parents. Neither of those attributes went anywhere near paying for groceries.
Then there were factors outside of his control—rainfall, drought, and prices. But even with all the negatives, he couldn’t see himself anywhere else. He’d given up trying to make others understand and he recognized that part of himself in Carter.
Crazy Carter. She certainly hadn’t turned out to be what he’d expected. From the care she had shown her horses, the work she’d done on her family’s place. She wasn’t the crazy prima donna and far from the flighty woman that would break up someone’s wedding. Or maybe he understood better how she’d gotten off course enough to have ended up there.
He checked his watch. It was close to eight. It would be dark in about thirty minutes, so he headed back to his house. It wouldn’t hurt to check on her, make sure she was okay, ignoring the voice that said, sure, sure, he just wanted to make sure she was safe. Like the way she’d felt in his arms and the way she rocked her short shorts. He tuned that part out and jumped into his truck.
He pulled into her drive a few minutes later. Her car was parked out front, in the same spot as yesterday. That didn’t mean much, just because he went to town daily didn’t mean most folks did. He knew some of his neighbors never left their ranches, lived on their places like hermits.
He got out of his truck and made his way to the front door. He rang the doorbell and waited, rang it again and waited some more. No answer. He peeked into the side window, searching for signs of life.
Why was he worried? She seemed pretty tough, especially the way she’d fought him during their first encounter. He thought her fragile underneath, somehow. But that didn’t mean she would do herself harm. He took out his key and unlocked the door, glad now that he hadn’t handed it back to her.
“Carter!” he called out into the silent home, walking to the kitchen. No sounds of life came back. He turned and walked back the way he came, moving upstairs toward the room where he’d found her sleeping before. He was more than a little apprehensive from the earlier pepper spray encounter.
“Carter,” he said again, having reached her room. The door was closed. Silence. He opened it slowly. His eyes found her, lying under the covers of her bed, asleep. He walked over and stood there for a second before shaking her. It took a few shakes before she moved. She awoke like she’d done the last time, her hand moving under her pillow, searching for what he now knew was pepper spray.
“It’s me, Rafael,” he said, stepping back from the bed, getting out of her line of fire, watching her as she became more fully awake.
She looked lost. “Rafael?” she said, sitting up, and looking around. She had on a sports bra and matching underwear. Wow! he thought before moving his eyes upward. Her head was covered with a scarf. Nice smooth dark skin, nice firm body. Her stomach was smooth and flat.
“Yep, it’s Rafael, your neighbor. I was worried about you. I hadn’t seen you today and thought I’d check on you,” he said, making sure his eyes stayed above her neck.
“Thanks,” she said, yawning and stretching her arms over her head, deftly removing the scarf from her head. “God, I can sleep like the dead. I was tired, like needing-a-vacation kind of tired,” she said, yawning again.
Gone was the sad woman from yesterday. This one seemed refreshed, he thought, and very sexy in her state of semi-wakefulness and semi-dress.
“Thanks for checking up on me, listening to me, letting me cry on your shoulder. That’s so sweet. Who knew you were a nice guy underneath all your Latin sexiness. I’m okay now. See? No more crying. All cried out,” she said, arms in the air to emphasize her words.
“That’s
good,” he said. Sexiness? Where had that come from? He wasn’t sure what to make of this new upbeat Carter.
“It is, isn’t it,” She said, looking at him. He felt like she was cataloging his assets now, from top to bottom and back up. He cleared his throat, bringing her eyes back to his.
“I’m not crazy, although you must think so. I mean really, think about all I’ve done in the last two weeks,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “I’ve tried to break up a wedding. Two, lost my job. Three, my family has decided to sell the ranch—the love of my life. Four, I have two horses in the barn that I’ll have to find homes for, and five, I have no plan for what’s comes next,” she said, standing up, a smile on her face now.
She stretched her arms upward again, and then bent forward to touch her toes this time.
He just watched, not sure how to proceed, but he did add flexible and lithe to his list of her attributes.
“You know what?” she said, lifting her waist from its half bent position. She really had a nice body, he thought.
“Hey,” she said, snapping her fingers, bringing his attention back to her face.
“This calls for a celebration. The official ending to Carter’s search for a man and to feeling sorry for herself,” she said, with a smile, walking closer to him, putting her finger to his chest. “From this day forward, it’s no more searching for Mr. Bentley, aka Mr. Right,” she said, looking at him oddly.
“No more looking for Mr. Bentley,” she said again, moving around him. He turned his head to follow her. “I’ll be right back,” she said, abruptly, stepping into the adjoining bathroom. She closed the door behind her.
“Okay,” Rafael said into the now empty room, glancing behind him at the closed door.
Carter looked at herself in the mirror. Not too bad, she thought. She found her toothbrush, squeezed a little toothpaste on it and hurriedly brushed her teeth, staring at herself –taking stock. She was pretty, she’d been told that often. Not gorgeous, but pretty. She wore her hair short, barely shoulder length, and permed. She ran her fingers through it, fluffing it out.
She kept herself in fine shape and if she continued to work around here, she’d be in excellent shape. She would do in a pinch, she thought, as she rinsed out her mouth, threw some water over her face, and sniffed her underarms—not too bad. She glanced over her attire. Which should she ditch? Which would have the most impact when he looked at her, bra-less or panty-less? Or both? Naked might work. Or it might be overkill.
She studied herself. Her breasts were good, still pert. She tested them after she’d removed her bra. Not quite the look she’d had in mind, she thought, taking in her half naked reflection. Lose them both, her final decision. Okay, that’s better, she thought, giving herself one more glance. She opened the door and stepped out.
He was where she’d left him, his back to her. He turned at the sound of the door opening and his mouth opened, his eyes wide with shock, much like Bentley’s had been at the wedding. She seemed to have that impact on men, only something else was lurking in Rafael’s eyes, something dangerous and a little hot, too. Okay, maybe he was more than she could handle. And wasn’t that a wonderful thought.
“Carter,” he said, his eyes roaming her body. She heard the catch in his breath. “What are you doing? Where are your clothes?” he asked. He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and looked around the room.
“In the bathroom,” she said, her thumb pointing to the door behind her. She sauntered over to him, placed her arms around his neck, pushed onto her tiptoes and leaned in to kiss his lips. His mouth was still open from his initial shock. Good, she thought, and she moved her tongue in search of his.
“Carter, what are you doing?” he repeated, pulling back a few seconds later, his hands on her arms, holding her still.
“You’re going to be my first Mr. Bentley Now,” she said.
“Your what?”
“You heard me, my Mr. Bentley Now aka Mr. Right Now. I know you’ve heard that term. Like I said earlier, I’m done looking for Mr. Bentley,” she said, seeking his mouth again, pulling her arms away from his.
“Carter,” he said as he tried to subdue her arms again. She slid them through his, a move that would have made any wrestler proud. She reached for the bottom of his shirt, had it up to his chest a few seconds later, adroitly removing it from his body. Her hands went to his shorts then, which she quickly unbuttoned and unzipped, lowering them to the ground before he could think. He tried to walk backwards, to get away. His feet became tangled in his shorts and he and Carter fell onto the bed, she landed on top.
“Carter, wait,” he said.
“Wait for what?”
“I don’t know you… you don’t know me,” he said.
“What’s there to know? You live next door. You’re a male with a beautiful body, and I bet you know how to use it. I’ve watched you. Love the way you move, bet you’re not even conscious of it,” she said, smiling before she kissed him softly on the lips. “You’re a nice guy, looking after me, helping me, listening to me cry, checking on my horses. The horses like you, and they are known to be good judges of character. I don’t want anything more from you than this,” she said, running her hand over that part of him covered by his boxers.
Wow, she thought, and moved her hand to work itself inside his boxers, causing him to groan as she ran one hand over him, skin on skin. Her other hand worked stealthily to remove the boxers from his hips.
“Really, what’s a mindless screw between neighbors,” she said, her lips busy on his.
“You are scaring me,” he said.
“Don’t be scared,” she said, both hands moving over him now, while she leaned over him, continuing to kiss him.
He groaned again.
She kissed him again, and felt less of a fight this time, feeling him falling under the ministrations of her hand as it cupped and stroked him.
“Carter,” he said on a sigh. “I won’t promise you anything.”
“Who’s asking for promises? Okay, there is one promise that you have to make,” she said, pulling back from his mouth, admiring the beautiful man before her with his eyes closed in pleasure as her hand continued to stroke him. His eyes opened to meet hers.
He moved in to kiss her this time, a soft tug on her lower lip. “What?” he whispered, his eyes closed again, hair wavy and in disarray, black eyelashes curled over lowered lids, and sexy like you wouldn’t believe. There was that look in his eye again, dangerous and sexy combined. “What?” he asked again, his hand finding her breasts now, tugging gently at their tips. He was smooth, just like she’d thought he’d be.
“Promise me that you’ll be as good as you look,” she said, against his lips, as she now tugged on his lower one. Her smile grew along with his, his eyes opened and locked on hers now.
“Te prometo,” he said, slowly, eyes closed, lashes black and long.
“That sounded way sexy. Say it again.”
“Te prometo,” he said again, slower this time.
“Can you only speak Spanish from this point on?” she asked. He laughed.
“I’ve got condoms,” she said, pulling back, before standing up. She looked around the room for her purse. It was on the desk. She walked over to it in all her naked glory, nice smooth back meeting up with two small globes of dark chocolate ass. He watched as she searched for a second before pulling out a condom, held it in her hand for him to see, a look in her eye that had him riveted to the bed.
Fuck it. I’m in, he thought. “That’s the only one you’ve got?” he asked as his smile met hers.
She laughed and walked over to him. No, it was more like a stalk. He watched her come to him, watched as she crawled over his body like one of those panthers—slow, sexy and all predatory. Her eyes held his captive. His skin tingled and his blood warmed as he watched her open the condom package.
She watched him follow her hand as it slid the condom over him. Watched as she moved her lips in to meet his, still on
all fours, looming over him. He lifted his knees, planted his feet on the bed, closing her into his body. He reached for her ass then, his hands gliding over it smoothly and moved upward to her waist in search of her breasts. He tugged gently there, filled his hands with them; a nice fit for his hands, and not so small after all, he thought as he stroked and tugged them again.
She moaned, a nice sexy sound. Their mouths made love to each other. She pulled back and leaned forward, moving her breast to his mouth this time. He obliged, pulling one into his mouth, sucking, tugging, pulling, causing her to moan again. He could get used to that sound, he thought before he moved on to the other breast, his hands back on her ass, pulling her down to meet his hips, while separating, spreading her, aligning her to take him into her body. He pushed her hips back to feel him, pointing upward, strong, hard and ready for her. He made her hips circle around the tip of him and he groaned at the initial wet contact before pulling her forward, and her breast back to his mouth.
He moved her back and forward like that for a while, not in any hurry. When she came forward he tasted her breasts and then moved her back to take him in, moving more inside of her each time, but never all of him—not yet at least—reveling in the smooth, satiny feel of her surrounding him.
He moved her forward again, tasting, tugging, stroking with his tongue, and again, this time sucking harder. He pushed her hips back to take more of him inside of her this time. He groaned at the way she felt around him. One more time, he pulled her forward, back again for another taste, and back to take him, almost all the way. He left her there for a second, and moved his hips in a circular motion this time. She moaned, her mouth on his, her tongue more frantic. She wanted all of him, and tried to push downward, but he held her hips to prevent it. He groaned again at her desire.
Her hands moved to rest on top of his on her ass, urgency in them to fill her completely, but he knew what he was doing and what he wanted, so he pulled her forward again, tugged at her breast one final time, and pushed her hard this time, to take him in completely. She groaned, he moaned, and held her in place.
When You Fall... Page 12