Rocky Mountain Devil

by Vivian Arend

  Stubbornly, Rafe didn’t say anything.

  “Ben was broken,” she said. “Maybe you should have— No, you’re right, you should have kept your temper, but your father chose a path that made him miserable, inside and out, and that’s what killed him, no matter how much you shouted.”

  “I don’t know that for sure. I can’t know that—so this guilt is mine to bear.”

  “Then let me help you carry it,” she offered. “Because you don’t have to be alone, Rafe.”

  He pressed his face to her neck and held her tightly. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough, and I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to make you have to carry this burden, either.”

  “Because you’re protecting me?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  Laurel curled her arms around his body and held on tight. “Because I’m someone who means a lot to you, and you don’t want to hurt me. And I understand that, and I appreciate it, but I’m not made of tissue, baby. I’m strong enough to be there for you.”

  “It’s like there’s a fire inside my gut,” Rafe whispered. “And my brain keeps going in circles with all the different options that I didn’t pick. In spite of the fire, something inside feels cold and broken—”

  “—and it feels like every person who looks at you has to know exactly what you’ve done, and you can’t figure out why they’re not backing away from you in disgust.”

  Rafe’s grip loosened until he could pull them far enough apart to look into her eyes. “How…?”

  “How do I know what guilt feels like? Soul-shattering, heart-breaking guilt?” Laurel took a deep breath. “I have to tell you something that no one else knows, and it might be tough to hear, but I need you to listen.”

  Maybe it was the lost tone in her voice that got through, but Rafe sat silently, waiting, his body tight under her.

  “Long story short. Jeff broke up with me then took off for a month. That’s when I discovered I was pregnant.”

  A soft curse escaped Rafe’s lips.

  She hurried on. “I didn’t tell him because I didn’t want him ‘doing the right thing’ for the sake of the baby. I wanted us to be together because we loved each other, but he blew me off, I swear he did. So I left school and went to my aunt’s to decide what came next. I miscarried the baby at four months.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rafe brushed his fingers over her face, his expression going sorrowful. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t know this back when Allison and Gabe… That must have been so hard.” He let loose another softly uttered curse. “Now I understand better why seeing Jeff threw you for a loop in the first place. Why you have doubts.”

  “I should have told you sooner,” she admitted. “But ever since, I’ve been struggling to find my way back to happiness. It’s been tough.”

  “Nothing you did made you miscarry,” he reminded her.

  Laurel hesitated. She didn’t want this to be about her, but he needed to know she understood guilt and regret. “I know, but it could have been. Rafe.” She looked him in the eye and let out a long slow breath. “I had made an appointment at an abortion clinic.”

  His eyes widened slightly, and his grip tightened, but he didn’t speak.

  “I don’t think abortion is absolutely wrong, but it’s not something to do without thinking it through. Jeff had made it clear he didn’t want to be with me. He was already seeing someone else, and I didn’t want to trap him into marriage, which is what would have happened. I couldn’t have the baby without someone figuring out who the father was. It seemed like my only option. So I made the appointment.”

  She closed her eyes, the fear and sorrow and hope and guilt she’d felt in that moment as fresh as it had been yesterday.

  “I went to the clinic that morning, and I walked through those doors, and I still didn’t know if I was going to go through with it or not. If it was the right thing for me to do. Over an hour I waited, the whole time debating and coming to no decision. I was so nervous I had to stop at the washroom, and that’s when I found out I’d starting bleeding, and…” Laurel forced herself to finish. “I don’t know what I would have done, Rafe. If I’d actually had the abortion I think I’d be less conflicted and guilty, because I would have made the choice, but I never got to. It was out of my hands, and I’ve had to live with that ever since.”

  They stared at each other in silence.

  Rafe stroked his fingers down her cheek, cupping her chin then leaning in and touching their lips together. A brief, tender caress that went all the way down into her soul.

  He pulled back and stared at her, his blue eyes like a calm, moonlight sea. “Does it get easier? Does the guilt ever fade? Do the fears ever go away?”

  “Not completely,” she said quietly. “Not yet, but there’s joy in the world, Rafe, and we deserve to experience it.”

  “It’s hard to believe,” he said.

  Laurel might agree with him, but this moment was a fresh start for both of them. “That’s the good part about faith. That even in the middle of doubting, we can believe it will get better.”

  “Belief.” Rafe gave a soft laugh. “Your father talked to me once about how important it was to believe in something.”

  “Trust me, he talks a lot about believing,” Laurel teased. “Comes with the job description, I suppose.”

  She stroked her fingers over his shoulders. A slow confidence building as his body relaxed slightly. The tension easing away.

  They were going to make it. If she had anything to say, they would.

  “You want to know what I believe?” Laurel caressed his cheek. “I believe everyone deserves another chance. That there really is a plan for our happiness if we’re smart enough to open our eyes and accept it.”

  “Even stubborn-ass cowboys?”

  “Especially stubborn-ass cowboys,” she agreed. “But Rafe? Most of all, I believe in you.”

  He kissed her then, deeper and harder this time than the last.

  Talking time seemed to be over, but he wasn’t letting her go. In fact, his hands were drifting over her body, igniting the flame that constantly burned in his presence.

  “I need you,” he whispered. “As desperately as I needed you the other day. The same way I’ve needed you every fucking second since.”

  “Then take me,” she answered, rising for a moment so she could wiggle out of her panties.

  She settled in his lap, undoing the top buttons of her dress until he could see the lacey edges of her bra. Then she offered him a cheeky smile. “Do your worst, baby. Take me for a ride.”

  Rafe lifted her, tracing his tongue along the edge of her bra. He closed his teeth over where her nipple pressed to the silky fabric, nipping sharply and making her gasp.

  “You said something about spending a week in bed,” he reminded her. “After we’d talked. We’ve talked…”

  “Later,” she promised, reaching between them to undo his button and zipper.

  Rafe helped her, shoving the material of his jeans aside so he could pull his cock free. Their fingers tangled as she stroked him, his hand engulfing hers as he moved their hands over his length, her palm touching velvety-smooth skin over steel-hardness.

  A groan escaped him, and he took her lips, their arms bumping as they kissed, tension building.

  It seemed only a second later he stopped her hand, chest heaving as he sucked for air. “Now,” he ordered.

  Begged. Prayed.

  Laurel lifted up far enough he could slide his cock to where she was ready and wet. His body trembled as she stared into his eyes and sank onto his hard length until there was nothing between them.

  His blue gaze fixed on her face as if he were memorizing her.

  “That feels so good,” Laurel whispered. He might have needed her, but she’d needed him just as much.

  Rafe pressed his hands to her hips and lifted her easily. Small motions, as if he couldn’t bear for them to be apart. It was enough to tease her aching nerves, every one of them sending out urgen
t cries for more.

  The springs on the old couch creaked as he increased tempo, bringing her down hard enough they bounced slightly. Again, and again, the rhythm like an old-time squeezebox, metallic rattles mixing with the sound of their uneven breaths.

  Pleasure swirled around them, and it was more than physical. They were there for each other. In the touch of their fingers. The sound of a gasp. The taste of his lips on hers. Sensory overload. Filled to capacity.

  They came together, the explosion in the middle of the room tightly contained as she wrapped herself around him. Rafe’s arms like bands of steel—as if he was never going to let go.

  Never, and that was just fine by her.

  Now she had to figure out how to help him get through the rest of the day—although she had a pretty good idea of one thing that would help.

  With a little luck they wouldn’t get arrested.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rafe straightened his clothes reluctantly as he waited for Laurel to finish fixing her hair. “Are you really going to make me do this?” he complained. “Because…week in bed. Just saying, that’s an option.”

  “You’re not attending the funeral for his sake. Funerals are for the ones left behind.” Laurel pushed him out the front door. “Stop whining.”

  “It’s not whining, it’s expressing a viable option. One that doesn’t require clothes.” Instant evil eye. “Wow, you’re good at that. Very scary.”

  She broke into a smile and took his hand, but when he would have guided her to his truck, she pointed the other direction. “I need to return Trevor’s.”

  “Would serve him right to have to catch a ride out here to pick it up. Don’t know what it is with him leaving the keys in the ignition all the time.”

  But he wandered obediently to the other truck, pulling back sharply when instead of sliding to the middle, she set herself firmly behind the wheel.

  “Sitko?”

  She jerked her head to the other door. “I stole it, I’ll return it. Get in. We’ve got somewhere to go.”

  He thought she was talking about the church, but she turned a half-dozen blocks early, on the road that led to Traders Pub. “You taking me to the bar?”

  “You already had beer for breakfast, which, by the way, I’m only going to say this once—never again. Got it?”

  He chuckled sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning on drinking it all.”

  “No, of course not. You were practicing your juggling.” She drove past the bar.

  “We’re going to be late,” he warned.

  “We need to do this.”

  “I thought you wanted me at the funeral.”

  Laurel focused on the road. “I want you there for your mom and your brother, and that doesn’t have to be at the church. Although you should text Gabe that you’re okay so he doesn’t worry. I have an idea.”

  She was up to something. “I don’t want to accuse you of anything, Sitko, but you’re wearing that same expression that used to get us in a lot of trouble in the old days.”

  Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Yes, but it’ll be worth it,” she promised.

  “I trust you.”

  And that was the truth right there. Whatever mischief she wanted to do, she had a reason and it was something she thought was right for him, for them, so he was willing to go along with it.

  Except he hesitated when she pulled into the back alley behind the Principal Jamieson’s house, her gaze darting like a cat burglar’s as she crawled out of the truck.

  “What are—?”

  She pressed a finger over her lips to demand silence, eyes going wide.

  He shut up.

  Laurel pulled open the back gate cautiously, glancing toward the house before tilting her head for him to follow her. Rafe obeyed, not quite sure how getting arrested for breaking-and-entering was going to be helpful.

  Only, she slid to the side of the garage and started rooting in the snow, and he was one second away from bursting out laughing in spite of everything. The Jamiesons’ backyard was a sea of lost-and-found items, and garage-sale trinkets that never quite made it to the dump. They’d nailed solo gloves in layers to a telephone post, old skis to the fence, and flower pots full of artificial flowers filled every available bit of space between the garden gnomes and driftwood.

  She made a low noise of triumph before twirling toward him, a big bouquet of plastic prairie crocuses in her fist. The pale purple flowers were dusted with snow, but she shook them wildly as she headed for the alley at a dead run.

  Rafe chased after her. He lifted her into the cab, pushing her over so he could get behind the wheel and take off, tires spinning in the snow. “B&E charges. Was that really the next thing on our to-do list, Sitko?”

  “I’ll find them new ones,” she promised. “But I figured this was one time it was okay to ask forgiveness instead of permission.”

  He knew exactly where this was headed. “Those are for my mom, aren’t they?”

  Rafe kept his eyes on the road as she laid her head on his shoulder, pouring her warmth and strength into him. “When I had dinner with Dana last night, there was a picture on the table. She said they used to go for walks when your brothers were young, and he’d give them to her. It sounded as if the memory meant a lot to her.”

  He nodded. “I saw it.”

  Laurel twisted to face him. “I know Ben was a bitter old man, but he was once a loving young man, and that’s who she’s remembering today. Isn’t it worth letting go of some hurtful memories for her sake?”

  There was no answer to that, because she was right.

  The church parking lot was mostly empty, and Rafe took a deep breath then continued on to the graveyard. The sick feeling in his gut was horrid, mostly because he knew he should have been there earlier.

  But Laurel took his hand and walked beside him to where his family was gathered. Her fingers in his warm and strong. Grounding him enough to keep him putting one foot in front of the other.

  He’d expected condemnation or anger. What he got was acceptance as his mom offered her hands and pulled him in tight for a hug. He held her, meeting Gabe’s eyes over her shoulder. His brother nodded slowly then patted his back.

  Rafe choked out the words. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have been there for you.”

  She kissed his cheek, turning a wan smile his direction. “Yes, you should have been, but you’re here now.” She glanced beside him at Laurel. “And you’re not being a fool anymore, so I forgive you.”

  Laurel stepped forward. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said quietly. “Do you need anything?”

  “Just for the morning to be over,” Dana said.

  Someone called for them to gather, and Rafe found himself standing with his mom on his left, and Laurel on his right. Gabe and Allison and the rest of the family gathered close as Pastor Dave spoke.

  The words didn’t register, but Rafe was hyperaware of everything else around them. Sorrowful expressions, moisture-filled eyes. A blast of wind whipped past

  His uncles came forward, and it finally registered what this day meant to them as well. Ben had been their brother. He might have gotten mean and broken by the end, but they’d climbed trees with him. Plowed fields, and done chores, and—

  For a second he could barely breathe, remembering the pain of losing Mike. Thinking of losing Gabe.

  The only thing that stopped him from breaking down and weeping like a baby right then and there was the warmth of Laurel’s hand in his.

  Pastor Dave finished speaking, nodding to the attendants. The casket lowered on its rigging, moving out of sight. Someone—his cousin Steve?—began singing, and slowly more voices joined in. Even after his long absence from the church, he recognized Amazing Grace, and Rafe stood and listened.

  The tune was familiar, but this was the first time he’d really listened to the lyrics in years, and he caught himself squeezing Laurel’s fingers tightly as her sweet voice rang out as if she were singing to him.

 
; ’Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear.

  And grace, my fears relieved.

  How precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed.

  Maybe being afraid something would happen was enough to make sure that it never would. Rafe was still worried that he’d fail Laurel, but he figured there was a good chance she’d kick his butt anytime he stepped out of line.

  It wasn’t grace but Laurel he believed in, and at that moment, it was enough.

  And when the service was over, they waited until it was only the immediate family at the graveside, the rest of the Colemans drifting away as Dana stared at the place where the headstone would go.

  Laurel bumped Rafe’s side. “Flowers,” she whispered.

  Right. It seemed too little, too late and somehow wrong, but he trusted Laurel, so he pulled the little batch of purple plastic from under his coat and turned to his mom. “I know it’s—”

  Dana’s instant gasp cut him off, sending him into a near panic as she pressed her fingers to her mouth, eyes filling with tears.

  Then, thank God, she spoke, and while her voice was shaky, it was clear she was happy. “Oh, Rafe.” She took the bouquet and stroked the flowers. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Gabe glanced between him and Laurel, a small smile coming on as his brother nodded his approval.

  The day wasn’t over. All Rafe’s worries weren’t gone, but right then he felt as if he’d finally stepped onto the right path, and pretty much knew why.

  He wrapped his arm around Laurel’s shoulders where he planned to keep it—forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ben’s death brought changes. Big ones and little ones, not only in what went down between Rafe and Laurel, but around the Angel ranch. During the early days, sadness always swept in when they gathered, but also a sense of purpose—something fresh and hopeful.

  The aunts came and helped his mom go through the house from top to bottom, clearing away bitter memories of Ben’s later years. Rafe and Gabe helped fix things up, listening to Dana chat about the things she brought out to display on freshly painted shelves.