by Gayle Eden
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He cocked his head, eyes holding hers a quiet moment. “I want to be everything my parents and my sister, weren’t.”
Silently Falon filled in, lover, husband, father, friend, and faithful? A man who made something on his own, out of choice, dreams, real desire...something that meant something real? She knew enough bits and pieces to see a million of them in his expression.
She reached out and took his free hand, squeezing lightly. “It will find you, Alex. Even if you simply do whatever you are best at doing, it will find you.”
He was looking at her, in the process of lifting his head, when the door opened and hers turned to see Lucas McCabe enter.
His eyes took in the scene as he doffed his cocked down cowboy hat; the only reaction he showed to Falon and Alex’s linked hands, was a slight tightening across his cheekbones.
Alex moved, turned, their hands parting, and Falon was standing as Alex asked, “How’s the Sheriff?”
“Stubborn.” Lucas half leaned on the desk, pulling out his makings, the star on his black vest catching light as he withdrew the pouch from his dark blue shirt pocket.
Everyone had heard about the Sheriff’s being kicked by a horse after trying to break up a fight in the saloon, and being knocked out the doors. He was in a bad way and not likely to fulfill his office because of damage to his eye. Until an election could be held, the closest law officer was Lucas McCabe—because he was still technically employed as a federal Marshal. The town was not happy about it, but since Lucas didn’t give a shit, and since he had been quietly working on the ranch from the time he’d returned, they couldn’t do a lot about it.
He lit the smoke, blew out the match, first watching Alex walk over, and sit on the couch in a small seating area they arranged, then glancing at Falon, who stayed where she was, merely leaning a shoulder against the shelves.
“He needs to go somewhere where there’s better than that old Quack working on him, but he won’t. His wife’s given up trying to argue with him.” Sitting more on the desk, Lucas inhaled and blew again. “I’m to make sure the election goes smooth and everything is on the up and up with the replacement.”
Considering him Alex murmured, “That star suits you, Lucas. You should put yourself in the running.”
Lucas laughed short and bitter. “I wouldn’t get any votes here. Folks have a long memory. I think they’ll elect TJ Waters.” He shrugged.
“A Marshal has more jurisdiction. You could hold off on that retirement.”
“I’d go where I was sent, if I stayed on.” Lucas corrected, his gaze touching Falon again.
Falon had not encountered him often since that day he had gone to see Asher. She had seen him at a distance though, and knew from Jordan, and from Corey, who never missed a thing, what was going on. Taking in his dark looks, the lawman image that was not quite the starched up Sheriff, more the mustang, with that low slung sidearm, and that certain manner he carried his lithe muscled body. She felt her blood sing, her body warm, knowing what it was like to be skin to skin, to have that man inside her, to taste his hot kisses.
She didn’t expect anything more than whatever that day was with Lucas. A healing, a purging, a burning out of pent up emotions, maybe. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t respond to his looks, his scent, and the tawny gaze.
“Jordan tells me Morgan is in hopes you’ll stay on at the ranch,” she confided quietly. “It’s a big spread and I hear they’ve had to take on more hands than usual for the fall round up.”
Lucas nodded.
“He says you know horses too, better than anyone.” She stared at him. “Says even your father claims there’s never been a hand hired who can replace you.”
His brow raised but he didn’t answer that, instead, he flicked an ash in the tray and dragged his eyes from her to attend Alex—who was watching the two of them with interest. To Alex he said, “You get Jordan’s part settled?”
“Yes. The draft is in the bank. I have only a few deeds left to clear. I’ll eventually sell that land.”
“And take up law?” Lucas looked at the books.
“Maybe, probably, at least for a while.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Lucas nodded and smiled dryly. “You never know what you’ll see in these western towns. Could be you’ll find it interesting anyway.”
Alex nodded, looked between him and Falon again, and then stood and murmured, “Would you mind keeping Falon Company, until I run over to the depot? I’ve more things coming on the five o’clock and I want to make sure—”
“Sure.” Lucas shrugged casually.
Falon didn’t respond and smiled short at Alex as he grabbed his jacket off the rack, his hat next, and left. She was aware she was under Lucas’s gaze though, long before she actually looked at him again.
He had put out the smoke and then straightened, walking toward her in a loose and easy manner—until his topaz eyes were staring at her upturned face. He seemed to search it visually before he murmured, “You and Alex got a thing going?”
“No.” She arched her brow lightly, as if to say, what would it matter if we did.
He reached up and took her chin lightly, his thumb under her lower lip, then he leaned his head down, and kissed her mouth smooth and erotically, stirring her blood so that her body flushed.
Raising his head, letting her lips feel the moisture left there as the breeze touched it, his other hand rose so that the back of his fingers went across her chest, where the lace edge of the camisole showed under her blouse.
“Tell me I can touch you, Falon.”
Her hand skimmed up his arm. “You can touch me, Lucas,” her tone was husked.
Watching her face, he undid enough buttons of the shirt and camisole to expose her breasts, their pale pink nipples instantly tightening. Then nudging her back, so she was in the corner created by the window and shelves, he bent his knees, kissed the tips of her breasts softly, then laved and suckled them.
Her head pushed back against the wall, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his upper arms, Falon made a small sound of bliss, liking the way he did it slow and softly, even though they both knew time was limited.
When he had them well loved, he raised his head, kissed her, taking the kisses she gave him back as their heads moved. The supple roll of their tongues, intensely sexual.
He was doing that, going from wrapping his cooled lips gently around her nipple, flickering his tongue over them, then raising his head and giving her that same tongue—when he gathered her skirts and found enough space between her legs for his hand.
Falon was breathing too fast as his warm finger glided easily into her sex. Lucas was not giving her time to think though. He bit sexily at her nipples, her lips, and thrust in and out. Wet and musky, aroused, she jerked and then groaned by the time his thumb found the swollen bud he had stroked with his mouth down by that stream. He abraded and rubbed, pressed until her teeth bore hard into her lip and she looked at him rather wildly.
“There’s time,” he rasped, his own eyes burning. “Let go….”
She climaxed short moments later, closing her eyes tight, trusting him completely, and letting go—until the exquisite fire exploded and then melted.
He went to his knees before she caught her breath, tasted her, laved her and suckled, before standing and fixing her clothing again. One kiss, and then he raked his teeth over his lips and went to the decanter Alex kept on a small table. He poured a drink and discreetly dabbed some of the brandy on a handkerchief and wiped his hands. Only a sip or two, before he put the glass down.
Falon had pulled away from the wall and left the door open to the small washroom, where she smoothed her hair looking into the mirror, and then pat her flushed face with a damp cloth. When she came back through, Lucas sat on the brown sofa, his boot sole propped on the low table, his hat on his lap and his eyes looking heavy, as he apparently masked his own arousal. She could read it, in the lines of his body.<
br />
“I’ve invited Alex to the shindig we’re having at the ranch. Would you like to come?”
He looked over her and back to her eyes. “I’ll be here in town, doing the rounds.” He shook his head. “Jordan mentioned she was going, and that your uncle, or rather Sara’s brother was staying at the ranch.”
“I still call him uncle.” Falon smiled and sat on the arm of a leather chair facing him. “He’s an interesting man, been a lot of places, a bit of a loner in some ways, and in some, he reminds me of you.”
His brow rose.
She shrugged but said, “I’m sorry you can’t be there.”
He opened his mouth, but Alex came through the door, his arms piled high with items and behind him, a lad pulled a wheeled wagon of sorts with more.
Falon and Lucas went to help, and as Alex began directing Falon where to put this or that, Lucas excused himself and left them to their work.
Sometime before they closed up that day, and Alex readied the buggy as he picked her up every day and brought her home, Falon had a moment to look at the corner and replay the image. Feelings, preoccupied her all the way home, with thoughts of how the man could touch her and make her burn. How she never even thought twice about saying no today—because she knew he could—and she needed him to stroke her, release her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wanted to strip him down to swarthy skin, see, and taste all the textures of him too.
That, and those thoughts, more than anything, proved how changed she was from five years ago. Ashley had been her romance, her shy awakening, and all the beautiful and tender things that she’d needed. Lucas was like a wildfire, a storm. Even when he was easy, gentle, he burned her to the core. He made her want, crave, and take things she’d not thought of before. He made her do that—because she knew instinctively she could with him.
* * * *
Fifteen bare-necked cowboys bathing in the creek, was quite an exciting eighteenth birthday present. Corey lay on her stomach just above the broad part of the stream, enjoying the view of hard ass'd, hard muscled cowboys, getting scrubbed up for the shin-dig. Only about four of them were white arsed, the rest were toasted all over. Wet or sudsy, she got quite a heart-thudding breath-stealing show. Even if it was more distant than she would have liked.
Lordy, but muscle and brawn looked pretty darn good uncovered and glistening wet.
It was getting more interesting, the normally serious and hardworking cowhands were romping, starting to play a bit— when Corey found herself lifted in the air, by the belt loop low at her spine.
Yelping, flailing, she craned her head and saw Noah’s aqua blue eyes and curly black hair.
“Put me down, Noah Lam! I’ll—”
“I ought to swat your backside,” his deep voice rolled over her ears as he nearly flung her on her horse.
Swatting at his hand, trying to gather the reins and push her curls out of her face, Corey groused, “You try it and I’ll shoot you.”
Tall and broad shouldered, the Landry foreman stood near her knee still, his dimples deep, and black curls hugging his strong head— looking amused at that threat and still determined.
“Mrs. Sara has been looking for you and sent me out. She’s planned your birthday and this shindig for weeks. And you know better than to be sneaking around spying on what you shouldn’t.”
“Ha!” She glared right back. “Those men have pictures of half necked women in the bunkhouse. They go into town on Saturday night and it ain’t to see women with their dresses on. So what if I do some looking of my own.”
The thirty-year-old Noah had been with Sara more than ten years, and knew Corey very well. His head shook side to side slowly, and hands on his hips in that loose and relaxed manner, he raked her with a glance saying, “I’ve been seeing this coming, Corey I don’t want you out on the range overnight anymore. No more camping with the men.”
“I’ll do as I please.” She stiffened. “This is my ranch as much as anyone’s and I’ve earned the right to—”
“You’re curious and testing your appeal on men, Corey,” his tone was reasonable this time, but Corey was too angry to hear it. “I can’t have something happening that would get one of the men fired. Or worse, cause you harm.”
“I can take care of myself. It’s not your job to see to me. You run the hands and the stock, you got no right to even—”
“You think so? Well what happens among those hands and on this spread falls on my shoulders, brat. I am not losing my job or watching some fool hand come to no good, just because you got an itch in your pants. If you listen to your mother and—”
“Don’t you call me a brat! I am eighteen today. And don’t you talk to me that way, Noah Lam!” She yelled at him, half because she knew he was right, and half because she was embarrassed to be caught. Mostly because—he was good looking and someone she would rather die than look the fool with. Or, be talked to like a baby from.
In his soft blue flannel shirt and well-worn denims, dusty boots, his shoulders were broader than most men… and well, spit, he looked like a mountain. She was madder than snakes that he would dress her down that way.
“I hear tell you was born in the afternoon, so that gives me a good hour I could pull you off that horse, toss you over my knee, and whip your twitchy backside,” he growled in reply. “You be glad it’s me who caught you, and me who’s giving the warning, because if one of the men had caught you, they’d take it as an invitation—”
“Well they’d be stupid, and wrong! And I don’t see why it’s different for me? They look at my ass plenty. Don’t you say they don’t. But it’s a shame for me. Isn’t it? It’s because my breeches are hot, but they’re just being men.” She sneered at him, “It’s my fault they’d lust or take it wrong, dumb animals that they are—it’s okay for them to make more out of it.” She spat, “You go to hell, Noah Lam. And dream about laying a hand on me, because that’s where you’d end up—after I shot you for it.”
Digging her heels in the mount, she took off.
Noah Lam watched the dust trail up, his aqua eyes twinkling, dimples deep—before he started laughing rumbling and low. By the time he mounted and rode toward the ranch, he was chuckling on and off. He did so enjoy watching those emotions and flushing chase across Corey’s face. It was worth everything just to see her autumn eyes spitting pure fire. Oh, yes, he had seen it coming for at least three years now, ever since any other man on the ranch noticed the kid had bloomed into a woman. Trousers and boots, those thin shirts didn’t make Corey look less of one. Her oak curls tumbling around that pretty face always looked wild and windblown, as if she just crawled out of bed. Her trousers and shirts got snugger and the hands were caught looking more and more.
Noah’s job soon included glaring down anyone who stared too long when she was bent over roping a calf, or sweat soaked in a blouse that couldn’t hide well-shaped breasts. She was vibrant, strong, healthy and full of energy—and because she was curious and not afraid to dare much of anything, Noah was always looking, checking when she was out working on the range, to see where she was.
That is why hours later, when the shindig started, tables loaded with food, the hay wagon ready for riding, games set up, and steaks broiling, he was dressed in polished boots, black trousers, and dark blue shirt—Noah automatically did so once the guests had arrived. In addition, it was why he stood with his wrists over the rail, one hand holding a rolled cigarette—and was the first one to see her come out the back door in a new dress.
It was a rare sight; her hair had some kind of net over all but the top and bangs, a sparkly thing of purple that matched her gown. She was a lithe built woman but she was corseted because when the sun hit her, the low neck showed the cleavage of pushed up breasts. It was simple lined, no bustle, probably because she’d have to be hog tied to wear anything with more silk layers. Still, it fit her like skin to the hips and fell to the ankles. The sleeves were lace flowered. It was the most feminine thing he had ever seen on the woman.
>
Noah took a drag of cigarette and figured out pretty quick she was putting off joining the company in that get up. She paced a bit, showing a shine of paten leather boots instead of the usual cowboy ones. He smiled. Eyes narrowed as he blew smoke. She had no idea how attractive and feminine she really was.
Noah raised his brow when she sat down in a chair and skimmed her skirts up over thigh high lavender stockings, and yanked at a garter. Beautiful legs, shapely ones, were revealed before she shoved the skirt down, then apparently sucked up her courage, and stepped down to join the others.
He pulled away, put out the smoke, and headed down to make himself useful to the boss. At one point, he caught Corey’s eye and grinned. She stuck her tongue out at him. Noah laughed softly and enjoyed the evening all the more.
For her part, Corey was later able to forget she’d lost the battle with her Mamma, and had to wear the new dress. She played with Asher, laughed with Rose and Jordan, and had to confess to Alex Croft she couldn’t dance.
He offered to teach her, and since he did it with a grin, she accepted and quite enjoyed letting the handsome man instruct her through several of them. Sitting with Lottie and Hank, eating, going on the hayride; sometimes just lazing and watching the others, she felt more like they were family now—actually for the first time in a long time, because of Frank and the way he was—and because of Falon’s not living there, and her secret.
She watched her Uncle Ryder, a man with deep brown hair and velvet brown eyes who wore his clothing with a Spanish flair, and had a worldly look about him. Bronze and having lean height, hard tight muscles, he was not how she pictured her Mamma’s brother to be. But he was ten times more interesting. A bit of a lone wolf, something of a quiet and watchful type, she’d seen him during round up; take each task as easily as the most seasoned cowboy.