When You Fall...

by Robinson, Ruthie

  Some good had come from bad, she guessed. Her search for a man—the need to please her dad—had led her to Bentley’s wedding, and that had propelled her here, to her old home. Being here had rekindled her first love of horses and living here, which in turn had forced her to talk to her father. And while that conversation had not turned out as expected, it had been freeing in an odd way. From this day forward, she was charting her course.

  She had two months to come up with a plan for her life. She was going to stay on at the ranch until it sold, new property manager or not. She wasn’t sure what she would do after that. Her long-term plan needed some work, but she would figure something out.

  She should have come back here after college. There was nothing to be done about that now, so enough with thinking about it. Out, Carter! You’ve got chores to do, boys to feed. No sitting around here feeling sorry for yourself.

  #

  Rafael had given up on keeping busy, and checked his watch again. It was close to nine. She was in the barn he knew. He’d seen her walk over, had known she’d driven into Austin. She’d called this morning to tell him of her plans and asked him to stop by this evening to check on the animals, and feed them if she didn’t return in time to do it herself.

  He hadn’t needed to. She was back already, and he stood arguing with himself about going over. If things hadn’t gone her way, she’d be sad, and a sad Carter was a dangerous place for him to be.

  He’d felt bad about their argument. He missed her, her friendship, her laughter. He was turning into some lovesick sap.

  He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, as much as he tried. He wasn’t interested in anyone else, either. He knew that with complete certainty now. He couldn’t get past the smooth glide of her body over his, or the way he’d felt cuddled within her. He liked the hardworking, intelligent, sometimes a little insecure woman he knew her to be.

  His chest still churned, conflicted and frustrated, and had taken those emotions out on her. He should have taken Frank’s advice and left her alone, let them sell, and move on. But he didn’t want her to move on.

  He locked his front door, deciding to walk over. Maybe he could corral his mind and bring his lustful thoughts into submission before he encountered her.

  He heard her talking to her horses as he reached the stable door and fought back the desire to chuckle. He opened the door, and she looked back at him with tears in her eyes. This was so not good.

  “Didn’t go like you planned?” he asked, walking slowly to her.

  “Nope. No,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  “What happened?” he asked. She stepped into his arms, wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, starting in with her crying again. Years of pent-up hurt all came pouring out. She held on. He placed an arm around her waist, and the other hand went to her head, cradling it against his shoulder. He didn’t say a word, but just held her until her sobs subsided.

  “So, what happened?” he asked when she’d grown quiet. He listened as what seemed like her life story poured out, minus the tears this time.

  “That’s a lot to swallow,” he said, when she’d finished.

  “Tell me about it. It explains so much, though,” she said, looking into his face. “It wasn’t me, is all I can think now. All that time I thought it was something I’d done or hadn’t done; and sometimes it was, but not always. All that wasted energy chasing after something he was never going to give me. He couldn’t give me. All that resentment I felt toward my stepsisters. What a waste of my time,” she said, leaning back into his chest.

  “I could have been here, and if I’d listened to myself, I would have been. Nope. It was all about proving myself to him,” she said.

  He leaned in and kissed her with a soft brush of his lips against hers. He couldn’t stop himself. He and crying Carter were joined at the hip. He surprised her and went back for more. She opened her mouth and met his tongue. Her arms surrounded his neck while his went to her waist, running up and down her back, pulling her in close.

  He groaned, and kissed her more, his tongue dueling with hers now. He was needy tonight, and that surprised him. He was never needy. He pulled her shirt from her jeans, his hands landing on smooth skin underneath. She felt so soft, and his hands moved upward to her breasts. He ran his hands over them, hearing her familiar moan. He missed this. He pulled her shirt over her head, reached for and unsnapped her bra.

  “You’re fast, and smooth,” she whispered when her lips were able to break free from his. He chuckled, but his hands were now at the closure of her jeans, and he had worked the button free. He was moving them down and off her legs.

  “Step out of them,” he said. She complied, and he went back to kiss her again.

  She felt his hand between her legs, zooming into her zone, forcing her legs open. He stopped abruptly, pulled his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans, faster than she thought possible. He was searching in his pocket for his wallet.

  “Fuck!” he said.

  “What?”

  “I don’t have a condom,” he said.

  “I don’t have one, either.”

  “That’s okay. We can work around it,” he said, looking around the stable. “Put your legs around my waist.” He walked them to the tack room, where there was a desk he knew of from past experience. It was locked.

  “Where is the key?” He asked.

  “In the house.”

  He looked around and walked them into an empty stall. The floor was covered in a thick layer of wood shavings. He spotted a blanket over the back of the stall door.

  “Good,” he said, carrying her so her back rested against the blanket-covered door. He kissed her again, locking her legs around his back, before his hand found her, spreading her legs around his waist, and slid his hands along her thighs. She moaned. He laughed, spreading the part of her he wanted to touch and rested himself against it. He moved his hips upward, very slowly rubbing. She moaned again, as her head fell to his shoulder.

  She was a perfect fit for him, he thought, doing the rubbing thing again with his hips, still slowly gliding up and then down. His arms were wrapped around her—one at her waist, the other across her butt—to hold her still so that she would be able to feel him better. He continued to move, to rub against her, up and then down, slowly at first, until he had her situated so that she wouldn’t be able to move, immobile to anything but the glide of him, up and down.

  “So good,” he believed he said. He wasn’t sure, because his energy was focused on that one part of her. He had picked up speed—wasn’t sure when—and a few minutes later, his hips were moving more piston-like now.

  She moaned again. He did too, this time.

  He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, squeezing her to him, holding her still, as he did all the work. He slowed down, and barely, yet barely enough, moved and stroked her, alternating between a slow and then fast rhythm. His breathing changed, and he stopped kissing her. His head was now tucked into her neck, like he could only concentrate now on making them come. She held on tight, her legs squeezed together to keep from falling, her arms around his neck, also wrapped tightly. He stood, her cradled in his arms, she holding on tight, both moaning, both pushing against each other as hard as they could, working toward what was coming.

  “Almost,” she said, panting, looking down at his head. His hair was wavy and wet with sweat. “Oh… don’t stop! Almost, just a little bit more,” she said, moaning as her climax overtook her, groaning into his hair. He joined her, pushing her back against the door, holding her there, his mouth opening and closing. He groaned again as his climax continued, spilling onto her body.

  She could feel him lying next to her stomach, pulsing now, firm and hard. His movements gradually slowed down until he finally stopped.

  She moaned again as he continued to hold her tightly to him with this right arm, releasing his death grip on her butt as he caught his breath.

  “What are you going to do now?” he asked, still working
to catch his breath while setting her down on her feet. He stepped away for a second into the next stall, and came back with a bandanna in one hand and their clothes in the other. He handed her the bandana to clean herself before leaving again. He returned a moment later and grinned at the sight of her leaning against the wall, trying to wiggle into her jeans.

  “How can you change subjects that quickly?” she asked, watching as he reached for his boxers and then his jeans. He put them on, and then he reached for her hand. He moved them to sit in the corner of the stall. Thankfully, she was diligent in keeping her stables clean. He pulled her onto his lap, leaned in and kissed her again.

  “What now?”

  She laughed. “Make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?” she said and he kissed her again, short and sweet. She shook her head, not sure what to make of him, but not anywhere near as sad as she’d been before he’d showed up.

  “My father has hired a property manager, a woman, due to start working next week. She will be working to get the ranch ready for sale.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, running his hand through her hair.

  “It makes sense now, his need to sell. To get rid of any and all reminders of his old family,” Carter said.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know.” They were quiet. She seemed miles away from him for a few minutes. Then she leaned in and kissed him.

  “Are you trying out Stacy for a wife?” she asked, looking into this eyes.

  He smiled and kissed her again. “I’m not interested in trying out Stacy for a wife. We’re just friends, have only been friends. What are you going to do now that your father has said no?” he asked softly. The way he was looking at her was a little unnerving.

  “I don’t know. I went by my apartment and gave my notice. I’m not going back there. But where, who knows?”

  “You could marry me,” he said.

  “Ha ha! Very funny, Rafael. You’re kidding me, right? Me and your list don’t fit!”

  “Yes, you do. You are a hard worker, and you fill out your jeans nicely,” he said, running his hands along her ass to highlight his point. “You’re not too high maintenance. You do tend to chatter a lot, but I could work around that.”

  “Quit kidding and sex aside, I’d want more than that from the man I marry. Although I’ve given men up, remember? I understand your list on some level, but not at my heart’s level. I want the man who wants me to want all of me, not because I’ve met the most basics of a bucket list. Thanks for asking, not that I even think you’re serious,” she said, looking at him. “I was thinking I could take my share of the proceeds from the sale and buy some land like you did. Maybe find a deal, some other family in distress, looking to sell,” she said.

  “No more accounting?”

  “Nope. No more accounting for sure. I’m going to do what I want to do for a while. Maybe I’ll end up poor and alone. We’ll see. But then I’ll always have your marriage proposal in my back pocket.”

  “There is that,” he said, laughing, as he leaned in to kiss her.

  “Do you know of any places that are up for sale?” she asked.

  “A few. Do you want to live close?”

  “I don’t know, probably not. Don’t think it would be healthy for my sanity to live too close to this place. Too many memories, it would hurt too much I think.”

  “I could give you the name of the real estate firm I used.”

  “That would be helpful,” she said. Her eyes were serious now. “Thanks Rafe. I like calling you Rafe,” she said, smiling, and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Thanks for pushing me to try. You were right, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t. I was moving in that direction anyway. Thanks for this,” she said.

  “No problem.”

  “Something about you, doing this with you, makes me forget my troubles, unless you make me angry again, although I’ve heard angry sex is good, too.”

  He chuckled. It contradicted the serious look in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing. You’re beautiful,” he said, looking at her.

  “Thanks,” she said, touching her lips to his, giving him a different kind of thank you.

  #

  Saturday night

  “I asked Carter to marry me,” he said.

  It was silent. He was seated at the bar in town between Garrett and Frank the following night. More stunned silence.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I felt bad for her. She seemed loss. She’d returned from talking to her father about not selling. She asked him to give her a chance to make the property profitable. She was crying when I went over and this desire to take care of her, to protect her, came from out of nowhere.”

  “Where were you?” Garrett asked.

  “In her barn.”

  “Were you…? Of course you were,” he said, taking in Rafe’s expression, rolling his eyes. “We are talking about you and your magnetism. I forgot for a second,” shaking his head. “Sometimes you know that happens. It’s happened to me before; okay, maybe not that often,” he said. His brother’s look of derision forced him to be more truthful.

  “Things get to feeling good and you lose your mind for a second. Did you tell her you loved her?”

  “Nope.”

  “You should be good, then. Does she know about that crazy list of yours?” Garratt asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re fine then. She’ll think you were just kidding around. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Frank was silent. Rafe looked at him.

  “No comment?” he asked.

  “No comment,” he said. Rafe looked away and then down at the beer set before him. “Carter does make most of my list. I should consider her, right? Why haven’t I?”

  Frank shrugged. “I think you have. I think you were serious when you asked her to marry you. I think our friend Rafe here has gone and fallen in love.”

  “No, I don’t believe that. I agree with Frank that she could be more than your list. But I think you don’t really want to have a relationship. You’re afraid of being hurt by, of turning into your father, so you have this list that keeps everyone at a distance,” Garrett said.

  “So you’re playing the amateur psychiatrist now?”

  He shrugged.

  “You plan on seeing her again, or whatever it is you’re doing with her?” Frank asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Be careful you don’t get serious,” Garrett said.

  Too late, he could have told them. Frank was right. Her, he could love. Her, he did love. He’d meant it when he’d asked her to marry him.

  #

  Sixteen

  Sunday

  Carter headed over to the twins’ home in search of a change of pace from Rafael and that marriage proposal. What a surprise Rafael-the-Listener had turned out to be. And why couldn’t she get it out of her head? Fake proposal or not, it was a first for her. Her dad/uncle lived in her head, too. All that wasted time. Water under the bridge, she tried to tell herself. Did her stepsisters know? Gloria knew; her dad had told her that.

  She’d spoken to her girlfriends individually off and on since she’d been living out here and she thought to call them now, especially Frankie. But she hadn’t, didn’t feel up to talking. Too much to explain, too much hurt to verbalize just yet. They would of course offer her advice and opinions as they’d always done, and which she’d dutifully listened to and mostly heeded.

  The decision to talk to her dad had been a major turning point for her. No going back to asking others for advice. Her voice was the only one she wanted to hear from now on. Had she listened to herself before her great-grandfather had died, things might have turned out differently. She might have persuaded him to do something different with their ranch besides leaving it to her stepsisters.

  “The darkies are taking over the world,” she heard, interrupting her thoughts. She turned her head to find the neighbor of t
he middle-finger-salute standing on the other side of the fence from her. Hate-filled eyes, mouth twisted in some hate-filled smirk as he shouted at her again, in case she missed hearing him the first time. She stopped in her tracks, completely taken aback by his words.

  She looked around for signs that he might have been talking to someone other than her.

  “I’m talking to you! You’re the only darkie standing around here. You and that president of yours, leading the country off a cliff,” he said.

  The door opened and the twins came rushing out, interrupting anything she might have thought to say in response. She’d been rendered speechless.

  The duo marched down the steps one behind the other. Al was banging a spoon against… was that a tray? Carter wondered. They were singing at the top of their lungs. “We are in the Lord’s army. We’re in the Lord’s army. We may never ride in the cavalry, shoot the artillery. We may never fly over the enemy, but we’re in the Lord’s army.”

  Carter stood there, watching as the twins marched around her, circling her, their eyes glued on the elderly neighbor, who was as surprised as she by this impromptu concert. His mouth hung open, before his face twisted into a grimace again, and he turned away. He and his walker made their way back to his door.

  The twins moved the song into its rap version. Carter didn’t know it even had a rap version.

  “We… we… we. Yeah, we be in the Lord’s army. Yeah. We… we… we are in the Lord, Lord Lord, the Lord’s, the main man’s army. We… we… we. Yeah. We be in the Lord’s army. Yeah. We… we… we are in the Lord, Lord, Lord, the Lord’s, the main man’s army. Peace,” they said and ended their number standing next to her side, one on each side, arms crossed at their chests staring at the spot that had held their neighbor. By now he had reached his door, giving them his middle finger as the screen door hit his backside. Carter started laughing and couldn’t stop. All that had transpired in the past ten minutes, mixed in with a little of her father’s recent words, the potential farm loss, hit her again, and her laughter turned to tears.