When the Heart Falls

by Kimberly Lewis

  “I wasn’t aware of old Hunter still having any kin,” Gabriel finally replied.

  Now why does everyone keep saying that? wondered Brenna.

  “Yes well, he does. Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I really should procure myself a room for the evening.” Turning to Ethan she said, “I do thank you for your assistance.”

  Just as she was about to walk onto the street, a strong hand once again grabbed her from behind. Brenna turned and looked up into those dark eyes. She wasn’t used to being handled so casually or with such strength. No man of her acquaintance could compare to the ones they bred out here.

  “It would be best if you didn’t stay in town tonight Miss Cameron.”

  “And why is that Mr. Gallagher?”

  “I guarantee that bad element is just waiting to find you alone and Widow Dawson is hardly suitable protection.”

  “And what exactly are you suggesting sir? The saloon?”

  “Yes, what are you suggesting Ethan?” asked Gabriel, still not smiling. He knew his brother well enough to know what Ethan was thinking. Gabriel wouldn’t turn the lady away, but he was less than pleased with the situation.

  Ethan shot his brother a dark look and turned back to those waiting green eyes. Damn. In the deepest part of his gut, Ethan knew he couldn’t just shrug this woman off and send her on her way. He felt protective of all women, as did his brother. They just couldn’t stand by and watch a woman being mistreated, whether it was their business or not. This however, seemed to be something more. A part of Ethan that he had believed died long ago also told him not to let this new arrival get away. He tried ignoring it, but of course duty came first and it was only Miss Cameron’s safety he had in mind. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

  “You’ll come home with us.”

  Read the full book today!

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  The following preview was provided by the author of the preview.

  Enjoy this preview of Under a Prairie Moon

  By Krista Kedrick

  http://www.kristakedrick.com

  ALSO BY KRISTA KEDRICK

  Family Ties

  Under a Prairie Moon

  By

  Krista Kedrick

  Copyright © 2011, Krista Kedrick

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means. Whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously.

  Cover: Copyright © 2011, Krista Kedrick

  Chapter 1

  Sunlight. It was only sunlight. Bright, infuriating, painful sunlight burning her retinas.

  Andy would’ve screamed at the pain splitting her skull in half if she had any saliva in her mouth. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink without it hurting. Her entire body felt heavy and abused.

  Was she dying? She actually hoped she was. Even her groan of agony was too much.

  She kept her eyelids clamped together, afraid of what she would see if she dared to open them again.

  What the hell had happened to her?

  She tried to summon memories from the night before but it was like sucking Jell-O through a straw.

  Water. She needed water. If the horrid taste and cotton-mouth were gone, she could force her brain to function. Maybe.

  She hesitated, bracing for the pain. Well, she couldn’t just lie here suffering. She parted her eyelids a fraction, wincing and scowling at the splintering in her head. She blinked, trying to focus.

  Wool drapes. Not her drapes.

  She squinted in confusion. Hotel drapes. I'm in a hotel. Silently cursing all alcohol to perdition, she raised a leaden arm to rub her forehead.

  Hung over.

  She’d rather be dying.

  Sucking in a ragged breath she reached with her other hand to remove the sheet from - her naked body? She flinched as she fully opened her eyes. What was she doing sleeping in the buff? She never slept naked. Not with the possibility of a fire or a burglar.

  Andy’s stomach churned. The sense of dread hovered at the edges of her sluggish mind. She tugged harder on the sheet, irritated with its determination to stay put.

  With a huff she looked down to investigate.

  Shock and mortification paralyzed her when her gaze encountered the problem. Good God. She closed her eyes tight, wishing it to be a hallucination from the drinking.

  Andy gathered her courage and opened her eyes to the very tan, muscular arm lying across her rib cage. Her stomach clenched and her impossibly dry mouth became an arid desert. Panic spread like wildfire. She had never in her life done this. She had never brought home a random man.

  Okay Andy. Get a grip here. She took several steadying breaths before easing the heavy arm away from her. She scooted gingerly to the edge of the bed and rolled to a crouching position on the floor.

  She listened for movement, a change in the man’s breathing, anything to indicate she had woken him. Nothing. She braved a peek. The covers rose and fell in steady rhythm and Andy breathed a sigh of relief. She rose further, biting her lip, trying to stay quiet. She took one step back, her foot tangled in fabric threatening to trip her up.

  She whipped her gaze to the bed and nearly dropped back to the floor. Her mouth gaped open and her eyes widened. Like a tidal wave, a fresh surge of embarrassment washed over her as the night came crashing into her brain.

  “Oh sweet Jesus,” she whispered to herself. She had done the unthinkable. Her cold hands trembled. Why oh why had she gotten so drunk last night? She felt like the biggest idiot to ever cross the earth.

  Frantically searching the room, she located her scattered clothes and suitcase by the table. Get out. She had to get out.

  She tip-toed into the darkened bathroom, grabbing her clothes. The door creaked. Her heart stopped. Her breath stopped. Her jaw tightened. She couldn’t turn around, frozen in stunned panic. Nothing.

  With her eye trained in the crack of the door, Andy pulled on her clothes and whipped her hair back into a pony tail. She gently pulled the door open - quicker through the creak- never looking away from the sleeping man. She crept to her suitcase and stuffed her things inside.

  She went to the door and slid the chain. She rested her hand on the knob, looked back at the bed and hesitated.

  Andy slid her fingers across her swollen and chapped lips, remembering. With an impulsive smile she eyed his peaceful body half-covered by the white sheet.

  Her pulse quickened at the sight of his broad chest sprinkled with dark hair. Her entire being tingled with the memory of rough facial hair grazing delightfully against her heated skin. And those firm lips like velvet tugging at her flesh.

  Andy closed her eyes in regret and remorse. Impossible. This was impossible. She squeezed the door knob and twisted.

  One more look, just one more. She knew this was the last time she would see him. Disappointment saturated her, down to her very core.

  Damn it all.

  She was actually thinking about staying in this room, about waking him with a kiss.

  Andy opened the heavy door only far enough to squeeze herself and her luggage through then closed it with the same caution. She hurried down the hallway, glancing back, so nervous she would be caught. Her stomach twisted into knots and her sweaty palms slipped on her suitcase handle as she raced to the safety of the parking lot. She had to choke back the tears to find her car.

  How was she going to come to grips with this? How was she going to live with the fact she had slept with her ex-boyfriends littl
e brother?

  *****************

  Jason rolled to his stomach, burying his head between the pillows and breathing deeply. Her fruity scent made his skin tingle. He couldn’t stop grinning. Hell, he’d probably never stop. Not after last night. Not after he’d made a miracle happen. He’d actually done it.

  Serenity, exhilaration, peace, love, hope, joy. All these things and more lit his soul this morning.

  He shifted his outstretched arm, seeking warm skin. Instead he got cool sheet. His eyes snapped open, instantly shifting to full consciousness, scanning the room in search of a long-haired, long-legged beauty.

  His heart sank. Open bathroom door, partially opened drapes, scattered tuxedo. And there, his eyes riveted on the burgundy carpet where a black suitcase had been last night. Gone.

  He rolled from his side to his back, smashing the pillow into his face and cursing.

  Then flinging the pillow away and whipping the sheets back, he cursed louder. “Damn it!” His sleep-heavy voice echoed in the empty room. She left without so much as a good-bye?

  He snatched his pants from the floor and shoved his legs into them. “Son of a bitch!” He crammed his feet into his boots, whipped the shirt over his shoulders and slammed his hat down on his head. “What the hell is the matter with her?” Jamming his tie into the pocket of his jacket, he tossed it over his shoulder with a muffled thwack and made his way to the blaring sun of the parking lot.

  He felt dirty, betrayed. Used. He had been used, damn it. Normally he wouldn’t have cared. At least he had had a good time and there wouldn’t be any tangles, no strings.

  But not with Andy. He didn’t want this with Andy. He’d waited thirteen years to have her and he thought last night was a beginning for them. He wanted a beginning for them.

  And she went and snuck off like this was some kind of sleazy affair. He ground his teeth until they crunched.

  Jason slid behind the wheel of his black Dodge truck. In the moment he waited for the glow plugs to warm the cylinder and fire up the diesel engine, a thought hit him.

  Maybe she hadn’t enjoyed last night as much as he had and didn’t want to face him this morning.

  Bullshit. He remembered the way she had pulled him into her room, the excitement in her olive eyes as he removed her clothes, the heat from her soft skin as his hands and mouth roamed over it. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  She didn’t fake the sounds of pleasure escaping those full, beautiful lips while he made love to her, or the way she had cuddled closer to him after they were both exhausted and sated, drifting off to sleep.

  He thought his lucky day had finally arrived yesterday when he walked into that church and saw her perched behind her camera, doling out instructions to the wedding party. As she surveyed the scene with her keen photographer's eye, his heart slammed into his ribs.

  He had dreamt of the day he would see her again. And he took great satisfaction that he happened to be in a tuxedo when they crossed paths after all these years.

  Jason had watched from the aisle in a state of numb bliss and nervous jitters. He watched her graceful hand adjust her cousin’s veil and the flex of her shapely calves as she backed down the stairs to capture the happily posed couple.

  She was dressed in professional black and white, but he wasn’t immune to the display of her toned shoulders or the roundness of her backside. In fact he had the overwhelming urge to sink his teeth in them.

  She had improved with age. It was as if her chestnut hair and sparkling olive eyes had spent the past years being polished with a jeweler’s cloth. He knew she had never thought of him as anything more than Josh’s kid brother. But on the rare occasions she had looked at him directly, he had lost himself in the endless depths of her expressive eyes.

  Jason had long felt a kinship with her untamed nature concealed beneath the sophisticated surface. It called to him, intrigued him and mystified him. It was what drew him to her and what made the sparks fly in that church when their eyes connected.

  It was a force of nature like lightning and he knew she felt it too. His hands tightened on the steering wheel like a constrictor on its prey. How could she run out on him like that? How could she be such a coward?

  He skidded to a stop in front of his two-bedroom house and stomped up the wooden steps to the porch stretched across the front. It was originally set aside for the hired men but he took it as his own when he turned nineteen minus the brief couple of months he stayed with his mother in the main house after his father died.

  He shed the tux for the second time in twelve hours and his mind flashed back. He could still feel Andy in his arms; smell her perfume in his nostrils. His chest ached and his stomach churned with disappointment.

  He quickly changed into his worn-out t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and work boots. Sanity seeped in when he was in the familiar attire. He flipped his hat on his head with a sigh of relief. Feeling more in control, he fired up the rusted-out, blue Chevy to do his morning chores. At least it had never let him down.

  The harmony of routine made Jason’s breath come easier and the weight lifted the moment he pushed the gate closed and drove into the hills. Sunday was the hired men’s day off so he was alone in the rolling beauty of the Sandhills, which is exactly the way he liked it. Feeling like one little speck under an endless blue sky, just one tiny being connecting to God’s prairie land was pure bliss.

  The truck jerked and pitched over the make-shift road through the pasture. It climbed one dusky green hill, leveled and started down the other side. His cattle appeared and Jason smiled. His herd, spread across the catsteps, dotting the choppy sand and grassy landscape. He was home.

  Most of the herd raised their grazing heads to look in the direction of the rumbling engine. Some started his way and others ambled in the opposite direction.

  Jason caught sight of number one-nineteen, deliberately standing in his path, calmly chewing her grass. He ground his teeth. On a normal day he would’ve humored her. Not today. He had had enough of the female persuasion and their tricks. And the belligerent disregard for his feelings of this cow reminded him of Andy.

  He laid on his horn. Then leaned on his elbow and yelled out the window. “Stella, damn it, get out of my way!”

  She raised her dark shining eyes and stared nonchalantly at him, working on the wad of grass. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw at the challenge.

  Jason rammed his hand repeatedly against the horn. Slowly Stella sauntered across the path and stopped just to the side. Jason shook his head in frustration and drove past her. “Stubborn wench.” He glared at her but restrained the urge to take a swing. His daily work was therapeutic. Checking the salt licks and mineral blocks, then the water. He drove to the top of the next hill and stopped at the windmill. He stepped out of the pick-up and brushed his hand over one of the heifer’s drinking water from the tank.

  The windmill sails spun, creating the rhythmic screeching he actually found soothing. Water wasn’t much of a concern in the Sandhills with the aquifer residing just beneath the surface and the eternal current of wind that churned the windmills, keeping the tanks full, changing only in intensity, rarely calming completely. There were ponds spaced haphazardly between the dunes and bluffs and even part of the river ran through Jason’s land but he liked the consistency and old-time feel of a windmill. He also derived great satisfaction from climbing and repairing the contraption.

  He loved his life on the ranch. He worked by the strength of his back and the skill of his hands which bore witness to that in the form of hard calluses and firm muscles.

  Not that this life didn’t require the use of his brain, quite the opposite actually. Taking care of the land and animals that are unable to speak in words is a science. It also requires listening to your gut and sometimes employing a sixth sense to know what needs to be done and to foresee problems and successes.

  He wasn’t lonely, not really. But he had thought - he stopped himself with a shake of his head. She left.
Andy being here with him was a dream - no, more like a fantasy. But Jason couldn’t stop seeing her face light up when he had talked about the ranch.

  Probably idle fascination. City girls were always intrigued by the fantasy of ranch life and cowboys. The frenzied pace of living and working in a city was not for him. Being crammed together next to thousands of nameless faces, scurrying from here to there, would be pure suffocation.

  Things were simpler here, peaceful, steady. He was happy he chose this life. He belonged to the land. Sweat, dirt and manure were etched in every cell. The wind was his soul, the water his blood.

  Outside in the sunshine and fresh air, Jason was feeling almost back to normal. He patted the growing calf standing at his mother's side before heading to his truck to continue checking his livestock. But he couldn’t seem to get the vision of Andy Jameson out of his head. He could see her smiling up at him, her chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders, her smooth skin beneath his, hands and it was irritating him.