She gently withdrew her hand and dried it on the cast-off T-shirt. Marc took a deep breath and rolled them to the other side of the king-sized bed, holding Bridgette tight against her.
“Stay.” Marc’s voice was low and rough, almost pleading.
She snuggled against Marc’s neck and gentled her with her hands. She felt Marc slowly relax, and she did, too. The late hour, the long day, and the emotion of their coupling had exhausted them. Her deep sigh matched Marc’s as they found comfort in the intimate warmth of skin on skin and let sleep claim them.
They would have time for words later.
*
Ryder woke with Bridgette spooned in the curve of her body, warm in her arms. When Bridgette shifted onto her back, the sheet pooled around her waist and Ryder studied her in the early morning light.
She was beautiful.
She fingered the blond curls that spread across the pillow. Her gaze caressed the fine planes of her brow, sculpted bones of her cheeks, and the soft, full lashes that fluttered as Bridgette dreamed. She itched to kiss Bridgette’s soft breasts. When she looked up again, drowsy hazel eyes were watching her.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Good morning.” Bridgette covered her mouth with her hand. “I probably have morning breath.”
She pulled her hand away. “Let me see.” She kissed her, gently pushing her tongue into Bridgette’s mouth and tasting her. “Mmm.” She pulled back. “No morning breath, but you do smell like sex…in a good way.”
She had slept only a few hours, but it was the deepest, most restorative rest she could remember experiencing. She hadn’t realized how much energy she exerted each day to keep up the wall that guarded her feelings. She’d been building that wall since she was a child, but Bridgette had come to her and obliterated it the night before, if only briefly. Her heart jerked. What now?
“Just happen to be in the neighborhood?” Her voice sounded more casual than she felt.
Uncertainty flashed in Bridgette’s eyes and she pulled the sheet up to cover her chest. “I flew out here to talk with you.”
“About the auction?”
Bridgette’s hand trembled and she covered it with hers, entwining their fingers.
“About us.” Bridgette took a deep breath, avoiding her eyes. “But now that I’m here, I’m not sure where to start.”
Words were never easy for her, either. They had only spoken their feelings with their bodies, and she was suddenly terrified they would fail in a conversation with words.
“Come shower with me and I’ll make some breakfast. Then we’ll talk.”
Bridgette seemed relieved at the reprieve and allowed her to draw the sheet down and feather kisses across her shoulders and breasts. She took Bridgette’s hand to lead her into the large, decadent bathroom. Bridgette smiled as she surveyed the Italian tile, triple-head shower, and the whirlpool half sunk into the floor under a large one-way window.
“What can I say? I’m a hedonist.”
She released Bridgette so they could brush their teeth while the water warmed, and then they stepped in together. She carefully washed Bridgette’s hair for her, and then they teasingly soaped each other’s bodies.
The night before, she had given control to Bridgette, something she had never done with another woman. But Bridgette seemed tentative this morning, and she was determined to reinforce what they’d shared.
Drawing Bridgette to her under the heated spray, she kissed her deeply. Their hips, their breasts fit perfectly together. She pressed her against the warmed tile and slowly kissed her way down. When she finally knelt before her, she carefully guided Bridgette’s legs onto her broad shoulders, opening her as she balanced against the shower’s wall.
She gazed up at Bridgette for a long moment before she pressed her face into her sex, bathing her with broad strokes of her tongue until Bridgette squirmed.
“Marc, oh, God, Marc.”
She burned the words into her memory. No one had ever, would ever utter her name with such passion. No one had ever, would ever touch her so deep. She wanted to cry and sing at the same time.
“Please, darling. Make me come.” Bridgette’s voice trembled with her need.
As much as she wanted it to last forever, she was helpless against Bridgette’s plea. She flicked her tongue over the hard tissue, then sucked her until Bridgette climaxed. She stroked her through her orgasm with the flat of her tongue, then quickly stood and wrapped Bridgette’s legs around her hips. She pumped her swollen clit against Bridgette’s heat quickly and growled out her own orgasm.
She let Bridgette regain her feet but kept her pressed against the wall, her forehead resting on Bridgette’s shoulder.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” she murmured. Did Bridgette know she was in love with her?
Bridgette sighed and stroked her back. “I need coffee, and then we need to talk, Marc.”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
They dried each other wordlessly, then dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen where she brewed coffee, warmed bagels, and quickly scrambled eggs for them. They sat at the table for two and picked at the food for a while before Bridgette finally found the words to begin.
“You scare me,” she said.
She was surprised and a little irritated at that confession. “Scare you? I scare you? Every time we get close, you disappear on me. I feel tossed back and forth, worse than the first time I rode a bronc. Is sex all you want from me?” She was so bad at this. She wanted to say something different, something sweet. Instead, she sounded like a petulant child.
“No.” Bridgette stared down at her plate. “But what I want, what I need might be more than you can give.”
She put down her fork and took Bridgette’s hand. “Ask me. We can’t know unless you ask.”
“Quit this insane rodeo thing and come back to Cherokee Falls with me.”
She released Bridgette’s hand and sat back. A million things churned through her thoughts. Was Bridgette asking for a relationship? Her request hadn’t included any promise in return. Was she just a concerned fuck-buddy?
The rodeo was a cruel lover. But, unlike the people who had deserted or ignored her without explanation, the rules of that relationship were clear. The spotlight, the fans were hers as long as she performed. It didn’t seem to work that way with people.
“What would you say if I asked you to give up being an artist?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I’m not risking my life when I paint.”
“What if I was a police officer or a firefighter?”
“You’re not. And that’s not the same as needlessly risking your life.” Bridgette put her hand up to forestall her argument. “Just listen, okay?”
She nodded, then waited silently as Bridgette sipped her coffee.
“When I was growing up, we moved a lot—all over the world—because of my father’s career. I always made friends wherever we lived, but it’s impossible to form close, lasting friendships when you only stay in one place, one country for a few years at a time. So my best friend was my older brother, Stephan.”
She took another sip.
“My parents were great, but Stephan was my champion and my confidant. I depended on him. He stood beside me when I told my parents I was gay, and he was there for me when my first girlfriend dumped me. I also could count on him to be my most honest art critic.”
She looked up to meet Ryder’s gaze.
“And he was reckless with his life. He knew how important he was to me, but that didn’t matter when he needed an adrenaline fix. He climbed mountains, jumped from airplanes, and even scuba-dived among sharks once. He seemed…he thought he was invincible. But he wasn’t.”
Tears filled Bridgette’s eyes.
“We had rented a villa on the coast of Spain for our annual vacation together, but he wanted to go to Pamplona for the running of the bulls. He said he wanted to watch from the str
eet level, but I stayed in our hotel room on the balcony. When they came running down the street, a bull gored a man through the chest right below me.”
She choked back a sob, and Ryder rounded the table to gather Bridgette in her arms. “Shhh. You don’t have to tell me.”
But Bridgette shook her head and continued.
“It was awful. There was so much blood. Some men ran into the street to pull him behind a barrier, and when they turned him over, it was Stephan. I had no idea he could be that foolish. He died that night in a Spanish hospital.”
Ryder held her tight, wishing she could take her pain from her. But Bridgette pulled back.
“I felt betrayed that I wasn’t important enough for him to be careful with his life. He knew how much I needed him, but he left me anyway.”
She took Bridgette’s hands in hers. “Listen to me carefully. There is a huge difference between what your brother did and what I’m going to do tomorrow.”
Bridgette tried to tug her hands free, but she held tight.
“Stay and you’ll see. I’ll spend half a day suiting up with protective gear before I ever climb into that chute. I’m not some inexperienced amateur wearing nothing but loose clothing and a red sash.”
Bridgette shook her head. “It has taken me years to come to terms with Stephan’s death. I can’t bear that kind of loss again. It would destroy me.”
Could she do what Bridgette was asking?
“It’s not as simple as deciding not to ride tomorrow. My sponsors, my agent, the rodeo are depending on me. ESPN has been hyping my return to the circuit so much that half the audience will be tuned in just to see me ride that bull or get dumped on my ass. I can’t back out now.”
Bridgette yanked her hands away and crossed her arms over her chest. “Those are just excuses, Marc. You could withdraw if you really wanted. This is about you, not other people. You need to be honest with yourself about why you really need to do this.”
She paced across the room and back. Bridgette wasn’t even trying to understand. Couldn’t she see this was different? That she wasn’t Stephan? She didn’t need to be psychoanalyzed. She just needed to ride that bull. Her anger rose before she could temper her bitter words.
“You want to know what real pain is, Bridgette? The people who left me didn’t die. They left because they just didn’t care.”
But Bridgette wasn’t swayed. She raised her voice to match Ryder’s. “You know what? Here’s the real problem. Despite my best efforts to stay away, I’ve fallen in love with you, damn it.” She walked quickly to the door and picked up her purse where she’d dropped it the night before. “But I can’t live in constant fear that I’ll lose you. If you really need to ride that bull tomorrow, we’re done.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Stunned, Ryder stood frozen. The slamming of the front door echoed in her ears.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
She turned the statement over in her mind. Nobody had ever said that to her. Nobody. Ever.
Oh, sure. Tory and Skyler, even Jessica, had said, “You’re family.” But, in her experience, family wasn’t synonymous with love.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
Indecision paralyzed her.
Her cell phone rang and she stared at it. The caller was identified as restricted. Maybe it was Bridgette. Maybe she hadn’t really left. Maybe it wasn’t too late. She grabbed the phone and dashed for the door, flinging it open as she put the phone to her ear.
“Hello? Bridgette?”
“No. It’s Claire. I hope that’s not too disappointing.”
The spot where Bridgette’s rental car had been parked the night before was empty. She was gone.
If you really need to get on that bull tomorrow, we’re done.
But she had a shot at the national finals. That’s what she wanted, right? Bridgette said she loved her, but she’d also left. Again. She frowned. Everything was getting all jumbled up. She needed time to think.
“Ryder, honey. Are you still there?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Hi. Are you in DC?”
“No, I’ve been in Miami for the past three weeks, but I’m headed to the West Coast and I’ve just boarded a flight to Dallas, where I have an overnight layover. Are you back in Texas?”
“Yeah. The rodeo is in Mesquite, on the outskirts of Dallas, this week. It’s the last big event before the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas.”
“Are you working tonight?”
“I ride tomorrow.” She scanned the parking lot one more time. Hell, she didn’t even remember what model car Bridgette was driving.
“Then you’re free. I’ll book a room at the same hotel as last time and text you with my room number. Gotta run. The stewardess is having a fit for me to turn off my cell. See you tonight.”
“Claire, wait.” But she had already hung up. Crap.
A few drinks and sex with a beautiful woman was her standard pre-rodeo procedure, but she didn’t want to spend the night with another woman. She wanted Bridgette to come back. Didn’t she?
She closed the door and stood in the middle of her living room. The condo seemed empty now. Bridgette had filled it with her presence, her scent, her heat. The spot on the floor where her purse had been, the chair where she’d sat in the kitchen—all empty now.
Upstairs, she flopped across the bed to stare at the ceiling. That was a mistake. Bridgette’s perfume, mixed with the unmistakable scent of their lovemaking, was even stronger here. She couldn’t think clearly with so many reminders of her.
She pulled on her boots and grabbed a jacket. When she climbed into her truck, she paused to take in the lone tree that she shared with the adjoining condo. The leaves had turned almost overnight to a brilliant red. Things were changing in her world and she couldn’t seem to stop it. The things that had been enough weren’t sufficient now.
Her thoughts shifted to Cherokee Falls, surrounded by mountains and thick hardwood forests. It would be an amazing autumn palette right now. An image flashed of her and Bridgette riding a trail through that glorious display of color.
She paused at the exit of the parking lot. Could she still catch Bridgette before she boarded a plane? What she felt for Bridgette was confusing, much more terrifying than a two-thousand-pound bull. She sighed and turned her truck toward Mesquite.
*
The nonstop flight leaving immediately for Richmond was expensive, but the sprint through security to board on time kept Bridgette from second-guessing her abrupt exit. Now that she was buckled in and the plane was taxiing down the runway, doubt began to creep in.
Issuing an ultimatum went against everything in her. She believed in live and let live. If other people needed something, who was she to deny it? Tory had needed Leah, not her. The dean had needed her to head the auction committee. Her brother had needed to run with the bulls.
But this was about what she needed. Her thoughts returned to the night before. God, she needed Marc’s passion. She also needed her trust.
Marc was fighting her own battle. Could she open her heart to another person who might leave her? Did Marc care enough about her to try?
Despite my best efforts to stay away, I’ve fallen in love with you, damn it.
Christ, that sounded like she already regretted what she was feeling. Would it have made a difference if she’d said, “I’ll love you forever, but I need you to be safe?”
She wasn’t sure, not sure at all. She was absolutely certain, though, that she could only give her heart to someone who would protect it.
*
Ryder sat alone on the very top row in one corner of the Resistol Arena. The noise of the crowd and the announcer filled the air around her. The smell of cowhide and horse sweat mixed with the dust of the arena floor.
She sipped her favorite single-malt Scotch. As a member of the 8 Second Club, she had a seat reserved on the arena floor. She also could have found plenty of company and alcohol in the club’s lounge. But she wanted to be alone with her thoughts
, so she sat just below the rafters and drank from her flask.
She absently watched a cowboy fling himself from his horse to grab a young steer’s horns and flip him onto his back in the steer-wrestling event.
You need to be honest with yourself about why you really need to do this.
It was more than the thrill. Taking chances was all she’d known since that first reckless ride on Kate Parker’s stallion. She was addicted to it.
Constant restlessness had driven her from one job to the next, from one place to another. She’d never stopped to reflect on what compelled her to seek increasingly dangerous jobs, but she realized now that her life had been a headlong dash down a perilous path with no thought to where or how it could end.
When she’d worked as a polo rider in Florida, one of the old grooms there had lost his grandson in a gang fight. Why, she asked him, do young men join gangs and throw away their futures? “Because they see no value in their lives,” he said. “They have no dreams, no long-range plans, and nobody who cares.”
Did she have a plan for her life?
She watched the cowboys milling around the rough stock pens below her. They loved this, but did she? Would she grow bored like she’d tired of so many other past adventures? If she survived this one, what would be her next test? Swimming with sharks?
She had no dream to pursue.
Tory had achieved her dream of becoming a veterinarian. Skyler had many dreams and achievements—a gold medal, a job she loved, and now a family to care for.
Ryder had no one who cared.
Not really. The women she bedded didn’t care. Her agent only cared about the money she made for him. Her fans would forget her as soon as she quit the rodeo.
She took another sip and closed her eyes as the liquor burned down her throat. Her mind filled with the vision of Bridgette, breath-stealingly beautiful, sleeping in her bed. The memory was so vivid, she could almost feel Bridgette’s soft, warm skin on her lips, under her fingertips. Her heart fluttered and her belly clenched.
Every Second Counts Page 18