Waking up the second time to a text from baby Stella Rae’s mother that the infant had made it through the night and taken a decided turn for the better had sent Tally’s spirit soaring. Marshall had suggested they celebrate in the hot tub connected to the enclosed pool.
An enticing invitation too perfect to resist.
As she straddled his lap, the waters swirling around them, she lost herself in the rippling sensations of her fading orgasm. Marshall reclined back, his cast arm in a plastic sleeve he used for showering. His other arm banded around her, his hand stroking along her spine.
Thinking of the first day she’d seen him boldly—recklessly—in the pool to save his dog brought a smile to her face. She’d been deeply drawn to him that day, but she couldn’t have dreamed they would end up like this.
Her chest against his, her breasts tingled in the aftermath. She couldn’t take her hands off him, the wide expanse of his shoulders, his broad back, all of him.
Nugget curled up tight on the brown lounger. Mellow and content. A feeling Tally, too, understood. Felt take root in her chest. Even if somewhere in the back of her mind, the idea of living on borrowed time loomed. But she would not give that part of her mind any more attention. At least not now.
No. She anchored herself to the present. To the scent of musk and man. The feel of those soft lips, that strong back.
Tally pressed words onto his skin, hoping his body could soak up her gratitude. Her appreciation. “Thank you for being there for me last night.”
“My pleasure.” His voice rumbled in his chest against hers.
She laughed softly. “More than that. Thank you for understanding how upset I was. I wish I could have explained more, but when I volunteer at the hospital, I’ve agreed not to share details about the patients.”
“I understand about confidentiality.” He hesitated, his chin resting against her head. “It’s a core tenet of Alcoholics Anonymous.”
Her breath caught in her throat as everything went still inside her. She wasn’t sure what to say and didn’t want to stop him from sharing what was on his mind by saying the wrong thing. But the news that he was an alcoholic had rocked her the night he’d confided the truth. His admission had touched her because of the level of trust he’d shown her. But the knowledge that he suffered that way for the accident her father caused only made the deep river of guilt inside her threaten to overflow.
His hand continued to move along her back in rhythmic sweeps. “I need you to understand what it means to be an alcoholic.”
“I’m listening.” She kept her head against his shoulder, the waters swirling around them, leaving droplets on his skin.
“I’ve been dry for four years. But an alcoholic can never consider himself cured.” His arm twitched, holding her tighter. “I can attest to the fact that every day is a battle to stay sober.”
Once, she’d read if one violin was struck, the chord could be felt on another violin. A connection. An awakening. She’d never seen such a thing for herself, but believed in the image. Tally had that feeling right now—a shared reverberation as he spoke.
“It’s admirable that you’ve turned your life around.” Her father hadn’t been able to conquer his demons, and it cost him his life. How different might her world have been if he’d found his way to getting help? To turning his life around?
“I attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings regularly. I have a sponsor. They deserve the credit.”
She angled back to look him in the eyes. “You made the step to join and stick with it. That speaks volumes.”
His jaw went tight, and he shook his head. He hooked his arm around her waist and shifted her to the side, his cast arm resting along the back behind her shoulders. Their legs pressed against each other underwater.
She waited, letting him find his pace to share.
“I can’t take credit. I wouldn’t have even gone to AA if it had just been me in that hospital after my accident. It was my life to throw away,” he said, his voice gravelly. “But I didn’t tell you that in that accident I was drunk. I’d ridden drunk before—but I always told myself it was my life. But that time I was thrown, and the horse trampled one of the guys hauling my ass out of there. It landed us both in the hospital.”
“That had to have been so terrifying.” Just thinking about it made her stomach lurch.
“It was. He could have been killed.”
“You could have died, too.” A flicker of unease went through her as she thought of her father’s death wish. Had Marshall battled those same thoughts? Did he wrestle with that element still?
He cricked his neck from side to side. “After that, I retired from the circuit and got myself clean. I make guest appearances for charity, but there’s no way I can go back to the lifestyle.”
She shook her head, unwilling to let him blame himself for his arm. “But it was an accident. Accidents can happen to anyone.”
“Nuh-uh... It was avoidable. I was distracted.”
She narrowed her eyes, swiping aside damp hair clinging to the sides of her face. “By what?”
His ragged breath brushed her bare skin. “Thinking about my mom and sister who died.”
She flinched, in pain for him, and also as she was reminded again of her father and the secret she needed to share with Marshall. But now didn’t seem the right time. “I’m so sorry.”
“I should know that kind of distraction can happen at any time. It’s a big part of what drove me to the rodeo circuit. I was running from my family and reminders of what it used to be like.”
Guilt pierced her over her father’s role in that pain, such crushing loss. She’d come here wanting to make amends, but now she realized that telling this family would also be a burden to them, dredging up the past at a time when they were already so raw because of the mysterious woman’s claim that Breanna was still alive.
The secret about her father would have to be told eventually; there was no avoiding that. But the fallout would be so much worse than she’d anticipated. Choosing the right time to tell Marshall weighed on her. Heavily.
Tally shivered in spite of the heated waters caressing her body. She’d come here for peace and to move forward with her life. And, instead, found herself stuck even deeper in the past.
* * *
Marshall slid his SUV into Park outside his father’s home, finding himself needing to alert his father to a tough decision—that he planned to go public about his alcoholism, an important step in moving forward with his life.
The past couple of weeks with Tally had been incredible. It had been difficult for him to focus on work, instead drawn to spending as much time with her as possible—dinners out, walks in the snow, evenings making love by the fire. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted. All the reasons it wasn’t wise grew harder to remember.
The icy water reflected the redwood mansion. The bay stretched with ice and hints of blue, deep as the sky above. Hard to believe life could get so complicated with views like this.
Yet here Marshall was, leading a very complicated life despite the simple beauty of this land.
He pressed the lock button on his SUV. Birds in the tall pine tree nearby took off as the beep resounded through the Steele family compound. His boots crunched through the snow toward the barn where his father had texted him to meet him.
With the expanded family, the barn on the grounds had been under what felt like constant renovation. More stalls were needed for more horses. He studied the newest section of the structure, aware of every change, from the higher ceilings and automatic feeders to the new flooring and drainage systems that kept the place clean. More evidence that business as usual meant massive change and restructuring. No doubt his father had adapted well—professionally and personally—after the way the Steele family had been emotionally devastated. More power to the old man.
Marshall thought ab
out upgrading the old barn at his place and using it to expand the ranch, taking on more staff. Thanks to the success of his investments, he had the financial flexibility to grow the riding school and the stud farm. He wondered why he hadn’t considered it before.
Jack Steele lifted an orange bucket of feed at the back of the barn. His puffy jacket brushed against the stall door. His father’s dark hair appeared darker in the muted light of the barn. The electric lights above had yet to be wired. Willow, a paint horse, chewed lazily on a piece of hay as Marshall approached.
Wearing a black Stetson, Jack nodded in greeting. “Hello, son. Good to see you. What brings you over this way?”
Marshall’s eyes widened. How could his dad say everything and yet nothing? Hands in the pockets of his jeans, Marshall shook his head. He searched for the right words to share what was on his mind, and then realized how he always found his way best. “I thought we could go for a ride. Maybe I could try out the new mustang. Flash, right?”
Jack shot a pointed glance toward Marshall’s cast. “What about your arm?”
A wad of frustration filled his chest. He knew what he needed to do to alleviate the pressure. He adjusted his own Stetson, shaking his head. “I’m going stir-crazy staying off a horse. I’ve ridden one-handed in the ring on horses trying to toss me on my ass. I think I can handle staying in the saddle with a regular ride.”
“Fair enough. I understand how it feels to be an unwilling patient.”
Jack had suffered a critical riding accident earlier in the year, breaking his C1 and C2 vertebrae. It was a miracle he didn’t die, much less that he wasn’t paralyzed. He’d undergone surgery and had pins holding him together, but he was on both feet and healed.
And not shy about getting right back on his horse.
“Let’s go.”
Jack silently walked to Abacus, Broderick’s well-mannered bay quarter horse. Clipping the leather lead line to the halter, he led Abacus to a crosstie.
With an anticipation he couldn’t even begin to hide, Marshall slung the leather halter on his shoulder, moving toward the buckskin mustang. Flash’s ears perked up, the dark brown of his mane contrasting with his cream-colored coat. Leading him out to the crossties behind Abacus, Marshall diligently brushed the horse down, losing himself in the routine of currycombing and hard brushing. Years and years of making horses his life afforded him the ability to quickly adapt to his injury.
Father and son moved in unison, saddling up in quiet synchronicity. As he tightened the girth, Flash let out a sigh, broad sides deflating, allowing Marshall to make a snug fit.
After sliding the bit into Flash’s mouth, he took a deep breath. During his days on the rodeo circuit, the boys used to issue challenges to each other. One of them? Mounting into the saddle one-handed. He reached back to his younger years, knowing he could do it. Bracing his good hand on the saddle horse, he pulled himself up. Settling into the leather, he felt a helluva lot better.
Applying slight pressure to Flash’s sides, he urged the horse forward to ride alongside Jack and Abacus. Golden rays of sunshine blanketed the snowy trail ahead of them.
Amid the sound of water lapping behind them and a stray call from a bird of prey, Marshall found conversation much easier. “Have you heard anything more from Shana on the investigation into finding Milla Jones?”
Jack adjusted the reins in his hand, guiding Abacus toward the tree line. “We’re still in a holding pattern. She’s hoping the DNA tests will reveal something useful.”
“How’s Jeannie doing with all of this?” Jeannie’s youngest daughter—Alayna—had childhood memories come back of Jeannie’s brother and sister and their possible involvement in a plot to harm the Steele family. It was difficult to know how much of the memory could be trusted since it had been repressed for so long, but it was unsettling regardless.
Marshall had known that blending longtime business rivals into one family would be challenging. But no one could have foreseen just how complicated it would become.
Although if Jack and Jeannie hadn’t gotten married, would these secrets have stayed hidden? It was better knowing the truth.
Stillness found him. Steadied him. He’d needed this. All of this. Flash shook his mane. His horse also seemed to notice the way the sun set the icy water ablaze. Covered the snow in a golden glow.
Flash was a more even-paced horse than Marshall usually rode. The wind filtering through the expanse of land rustled leaves, bushes. Flash paid them no mind. No signs of spooking.
The creak of the saddle soothed his soul, giving him the bolstering he needed to say, “Dad, I’ve been keeping a secret from the family, and I think the time has come to let you all know.”
His father shifted in the saddle, his eyes concerned. “This sounds serious. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
“I know, and I haven’t wanted to let you down.” Marshall forced his grip on the reins to loosen. “I’m a recovering alcoholic.”
His father stayed quiet for a handful of heartbeats. “Thank you for telling me. What can I do to help?”
Marshall shook his head. “Just letting me get it off my chest means a lot to me. I’ve been dry for over four years, but I think the time has come to quit trying to fake people out with my bottles of nonalcoholic beers and tonic water.”
“We’re family, and I’m here for you whatever you need—Al Anon for family. You tell me.”
Marshall swallowed hard, relief rolling the boulder off his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized how heavily the secret had weighed on him until he was free of it.
Marshall lost himself in the movement of the ride, like a meditative rhythm.
“So, son, how’re things with you and Tally?”
His father’s intuitive question still caught Marshall off guard for moment. He sank deeper into the saddle, weighing his answer. “She’s doing a great job getting the house ready for the fund-raiser.”
“That’s not what I mean—” his father shot him a sideways glance “—and I imagine you know it. I can’t help but think she may have had something to do with what you’ve shared with me today.”
“How did you guess?” Face growing taut, Marshall tightened his grip on the reins until the leather bit into his palm.
His father looked at him sidelong, the shade from his Stetson obscuring his eyes a bit. “It was impossible to miss the sparks flying off the two of you that day we were over decorating.”
“She’s a very special lady.” And that was part of the problem. “I’m just not sure I can offer what she deserves.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s no secret I’m the loner in the family.” His mount’s ears perked up, rotating backward as if to eavesdrop.
“Just because you don’t throw yourself into the thick of every gathering doesn’t make you a loner. Your siblings have a way of taking over a room. You keep to the outskirts. No shame in that.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m right for Tally. She’s so outgoing, far from being a loner like me.”
“Not always. Your rodeo days included a full social circle.”
Bad example. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Jack pushed Abacus into a working trot. Then to a rolling canter. They’d always had other ways of talking. Again, Flash’s ears moved backward.
Marshall responded, squeezing his legs against Flash. His buckskin effortlessly transitioned to a smooth canter, and he found the mustang closing the distance on Abacus and his father.
Cool winter air and the rhythm of the ride opened him up. They reached the tree line and broke out into a walk.
Jack smiled, pivoting in the cognac-colored saddle to look at Marshall. He began to speak, sharing with Marshall a snippet of the past, a story he knew well. Once, the family went on a camping trip. Marshall, ever the curious adventurer, wandered off.
Jack continued, “It scared the hell out of me and your mother when we realized you weren’t in your room. You were always so solitary. I wish I could say it was the first time we looked up and wondered where you were. Usually, you were in the old barn with the horse or just across the room with your nose in a book being so much quieter than the rest.”
Marshall welcomed the distraction of his father’s change of subject. “I played that up, you know. It gave me the chance to slip away.”
“Do you remember where you were that day you wandered off in the snow?”
“I was building an ice fort. I must have been looking for a quiet space to read,” he said with a smile. His parents and siblings had been making a gingerbread house. It had been chaos.
“You built it because Breanna asked you to. She wanted to have snowball fights where it wasn’t boys against the girls, but where you were on her team.”
“I’d forgotten that.”
Jack reached down to give Abacus a pat on the neck. “You’re a middle child in the way you keep to yourself and don’t ask for what you need.” Gathering the reins, he guided the bay quarter horse to the right. “For what my opinion’s worth, I say if you want this woman, you should stop overthinking things and go for it. You’re one helluva good man, and I would wager she sees that. Let her make her own decision. You’re not responsible for the world.”
Could it really be as simple as that? Was he overthinking, as his father said? He wanted that to be true, to keep following the attraction and see where it led them.
And for that matter, he didn’t need to make a decision until after the fund-raiser.
The prospect of being with Tally, guilt free, filled him with a thrill that rivaled anything he’d experienced, a new hope for the future with her. He ignored a niggling sense that Tally was hiding something. He was just overthinking things, like Jack said. Marshall was ready to embrace life and gear up for more from her.
Hell yes, he intended to fill their time together with romance—and desire.
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