Rory had to know. “What are they saying?”
“Just that you two are smokin’ hot together, and who knew, after all these years?”
Rory leaned across the table toward her favorite cousin. “You know what I say?”
Clara did know. “‘About damn time.’”
They laughed together, and Rory confessed, “I’d begun to think it was never going to happen.”
“Well, love looks good on you.”
Love. Rory winced at the enormity of that one little word and felt driven to clarify. “I wouldn’t call it love, exactly. I mean, we just, well, it’s all so new. And who knows where it’s going?”
Clara reached across and clasped her hand. “All right, fine. Forget the L word for now. The point is you look amazing. You’ve got that glow, the one that says there’s a special man in your life and you’re completely blissed out about it.”
Rory made a low sound of agreement. “I am blissed out. No doubt on that score. I’m wild for Walker and, what do you know, the day has actually come that he’s wild for me.”
“Oh, honey...” Out of nowhere, Clara’s face crumpled. Her eyes brimmed with moisture.
“Clara?” Rory cried. She jumped up and darted around to Clara’s side of the table.
Clara swiped at her eyes. “I just don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
Rory knelt by her chair and took both her hands. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Clara dashed at her eyes again, but the tears kept coming. “You just look so happy, that’s all, to want a special guy and be wanted right back. And...I’m an idiot—an idiot who needs a tissue.”
Rory got the box from the windowsill. “Here you go.”
Clara took it and blew her nose and waved Rory back to her seat. “Go on. Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
Rory returned to her chair. But then she had to ask, “Is this about you and Ryan? I thought things seemed a little tense between you two last night.”
Clara’s eyes brimmed again. But then she fell back on the usual denials. “No. Of course not. Ryan and I are great. Solid.”
“Clara. Come on. Whatever it is, you can tell me—you know that.”
Clara rested an elbow on the table and put her hand over her mouth—as if she needed to keep any dangerous words from getting out. Above that hand, her red-rimmed eyes met Rory’s. And then shifted away. Finally, with a weary sigh, she lowered her hand and drew in a slow, shaky breath. “I’m sorry. It’s only pregnant-lady hormones—that’s all.”
Rory knew damn well there was more. “Clara. I love you so much. And I just don’t believe you.”
“Well, you should.” Clara sniffed. “Because it’s hormones, really. Hormones, that’s all—and please, don’t say anything to Walker about my getting all weepy on you today. Don’t say anything to anybody, for that matter.”
“I won’t say a word. But if you ever want to talk about it—”
“Rory. How many ways can I say it? I’m happy for you and I’m feeling emotional. It’s no big deal.”
* * *
Walker was sitting on his front porch, Lonesome on one side, Lucky on the other, waiting for her, when Rory got back to the ranch that evening. Her heart just lifted right up at the sight of him, as if someone had suddenly filled it full of helium.
Lonesome trailed in his wake as he came out to meet her. She pushed open the door. He reached right in and took hold of her hand, causing lovely shivers to course across her skin, setting a thousand butterflies loose in her belly.
“I thought you’d never get here.” He pulled her out of the driver’s seat and into his arms for a hello kiss that went on for the longest, loveliest time. When he finally lifted his head, he said, “Dinner’s in the oven. Let’s get your things inside.”
They carried everything in and she unpacked. By seven, they were sitting down to a dinner of Alva’s excellent pot roast with root vegetables.
He asked, “So what did Clara have to say?”
Rory longed to tell him everything. But she had made Clara a promise. So she told the truth—just not all of it. “Not much. She says she’s fine and happy and she and Ryan are solid.”
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “And you believed her?”
“Does it matter what I believe? That’s her story, and she made it painfully clear she’s sticking to it.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” she confessed sadly. “But what can we do about it?”
“Not a thing that I can figure out.” He stuck the bite of pot roast in his mouth and chewed with a worried frown.
They ate in silence for a while. She fretted about Clara and Ryan and figured that he was probably doing the same.
Then he said, “Rye warned me off Denise—did I tell you?”
She sat up straighter. “Of course not. You never talk to me about Denise.”
He shrugged. “All I’m saying is that I had to make that mistake for myself. Maybe this, with him and Clara, is the same—not a mistake, necessarily, but something they have to work through for themselves.”
She longed to know more about Denise. So she asked, without really expecting him to answer, “What did Ryan say to you about Denise?”
And then, wonder of wonders, he actually told her, “That she wasn’t a stayer. Rye said she had the bright lights and the big city in her blood and before long she’d be headed back to where she came from. He said that hanging with me out here at the ranch was just a temporary thrill for her, that it would get old for her fast.”
Rory winced. “Harsh.”
“Yeah, well. The truth is that way sometimes—not that I believed him. I believed her. She’d sworn she would love me forever. I told Rye he was just jealous, because I’d found what every man dreams of. He called me a fool. And I called him a coward, said he was scared to find a good woman who loved him and settle down, scared of being left like dear old dad left our mom.” He let out a low rumble of laughter. It wasn’t a happy sound.
“And then what happened?”
“Then he punched me in the jaw and I punched him back, after which I helped him to his feet and we agreed to disagree.” He broke a hunk of bread off the sourdough loaf in the middle of the table. “You didn’t really want to hear all that, now, did you?”
She stared at him straight on. “Yes, Walker. I did want to hear it. I know that everything’s changing between us, after last night. But I’m still your friend and I always will be, no matter what.”
“You say that now.”
“Because it’s true. No matter what happens, even if it turns out for some reason that I never see you again, in my heart I will still be your friend and I want to hear anything you want to tell me about yourself.”
He sopped up gravy with the bread and ate it, eyes focused on his plate. Finally, he muttered, “I was a fool.”
“No, you weren’t.”
He scoffed. “Now, just how do you figure that?”
“You loved her. You gave yourself to that love. Even if it didn’t work out, that’s a beautiful thing. How sad and gray life would be without love, without surrender to something that’s bigger than we are.”
“Spoken like a princess from a large, happy family.”
“I am that, and I don’t deny it.”
“Life doesn’t always work out like you think, Rory. It’s not all some big, romantic fantasy.”
She put down her fork and asked him quietly, “Where are we going with this?”
He sat so still across the table, just staring at her. “Last night, this morning. It’s been like some dream. Magic time, you know? You and me. I never knew that it could be like this. So hot. And cozy and comfortable, too.”
Warmth stole through her. Okay, he might be f
ighting it. But he was in this with her, in deep and loving it, same as she was. Softly, she asked him, “Good?”
“Better than good.” His voice was just a little bit ragged.
“Oh, Walker.” She leaned toward him. “It’s good for me, too.”
He sat back. “We can’t... We just need to keep our heads, I think.” He said it gruffly and somehow tenderly, too.
She was the one scoffing then. “Keep our heads? Wrong. The whole point is that we’re out of our minds and loving every minute of it.”
* * *
Walker watched her shining face across the table. He shouldn’t have mentioned Denise.
Denise was too sharp a reminder of all the things that don’t turn out the way you dream they might. He and Rory had found something special together. They had a week, if he didn’t blow it before then.
A week of her beautiful face across from him at meals, of her fine body in his arms at night. Of her laughter and her tender sighs. A week of heaven.
Why not enjoy every minute of it?
Yeah, there would be a price. A high one. That was just how life went. But for a week with her, he would pay it and try to remember, when the time came, to pay it gladly.
He teased, “How can you make insanity sound so right?”
“Because this is right,” she insisted. “And I’m so glad it’s happening.” She picked up her water glass and raised it high. “To right here and right now.”
He grabbed his own glass and tapped it to hers. “Here and now, Rory.”
The rest of the evening was about as perfect as an evening can get.
After dinner, they sat on the sofa by the light of the Christmas tree. He watched some TV, and she fiddled on her laptop, editing pictures, then going online to check out information on wilderness trails and look up the weather forecast.
Eventually, she put her laptop away and he turned off the TV. They shared a kiss that led to another kiss, each one longer and hotter than the one before. He kept thinking they should probably take it upstairs.
But somehow, they ended up naked on the rug in front of the fire. At the last possible second, as he rose up over her, he remembered. “Condom.” He groaned the word.
“Uh-oh,” she said, and started laughing.
“I can’t believe I almost forgot the condom...” With another groan, he rolled away from her. She lay there beside him without a stitch on, still laughing. He sent her a dark look. “You think this is funny?”
“I do, yes.” And then she grabbed his hand, pulled him to his feet—and turned off the fire. She dragged him over to the tree and flipped the switch on it, too. Finally, she led him, dazed and stumbling, to the front hall.
“Wait,” he said when they reached the stairs.
“Oh, but I don’t want to wait.” Her face was flushed, those golden eyes gleaming.
“Come here.” He scooped her high in his arms.
“Oh!” she cried, and then pressed her tender hand against his cheek. “Careful...”
“You say that,” he accused. “But look at us. This isn’t careful, not in the least. If we were being careful—”
She put two fingers against his lips. “Shh. Kiss me. It will be all right.”
He didn’t believe her—but he kissed her anyway. How could he resist? He captured her mouth and carried her up the stairs.
In the bedroom, he took her straight to the side of the bed. He went on kissing her as he slowly let her down to the rug.
She pushed at his shoulders. “Wait.”
“I thought you didn’t want to wait.” But he did as she commanded, watching her, a dumb-ass grin on his face, as she folded back the covers and took a condom from the drawer.
“There.” She looked so pleased with herself. And so incredibly beautiful, her hair loose and wild on her shoulders, mouth swollen from kissing him, breasts so tempting, the nipples drawn tight, begging for his touch. “Lie down,” she commanded. “On your back, please.”
At that moment, she could have told him to go jump out the window, and he would have done it without hesitation. He stretched out on the bed and she came down beside him, curling her soft, knowing hand around him, and then lowering her head.
She took him in, her silky, wet mouth surrounding him, her long hair brushing against his belly. It felt so far beyond good, he almost lost it right then.
But somehow he held out, held on, as she worked her will and her sweet, open mouth on him.
She was so right, he decided. No reason at all to think of what would happen later. Here and now. Nothing like it. Every minute with her a gift. She was Christmas come early, and he planned to unwrap her over and over, every chance he got.
When she finally rolled the condom down on him, he stared up at her, completely in her power. And just about ready to explode.
She straddled him. And then, so slowly, she lowered her body onto him, taking him in by measured degrees, her eyes locked with his. “Good?” she asked in a teasing, breathless whisper.
“Better than good.”
She bent over him, her curling dark hair falling, tickling his chest, soft as silk across his throat.
A kiss, an endless one. She moaned into his mouth, and he gave that moan back to her as she rode him. Lifting up to a sitting position again, she pressed her soft hands to his chest, sought his eyes and held them—at first.
But then, as it went on and on, she let her eyes droop shut and her head fall back. A few moments later, she cried out her release.
He took her hips in his two hands and pulled her down flush against him, so he could feel her pleasure pulsing around him.
She murmured something under her breath, so low and husky that he couldn’t make out the words.
And he rolled them then, taking her under him, rising up on his hands, rocking into her and then going still.
Waiting.
Until her eyes opened, glowing golden and misty, full of joy and wonder. “Oh, Walker... Merry Christmas, Walker.”
He started to speak, but all that came out was a moan. What man could form words at a time like this? He hovered way too close to the brink. There was only her body, so tight and wet around him, only those eyes of hers, gazing up at him, inviting him to drown in her.
She lifted her hands and braced them on his shoulders. “Yes, Walker. Now...”
That did it. That set him free. He let his body take over, let his own head fall back. He moved in her hard and fast. She met every thrust. The end came roaring at him, rolling through him in a long, deep, endless wave.
She pulled him down to her. Wrapping those smooth arms and strong legs good and tight around him, she whispered soft, tender things as his climax faded slowly to sweet afterglow.
* * *
The alarm rang as usual, before dawn.
He reached over, gave it a whack to silence it and automatically started to push back the covers.
“Wait,” said the woman beside him.
“Horses,” he grumbled.
“I know.” Her soft hand on his shoulder. So good, that simple touch. And the warmth of her beside him? Best Christmas present ever. “But talk to me,” she coaxed in a whisper. “Just for a minute, please.”
He switched on the lamp and rolled back to look at her, all rumpled and squinty-eyed and impossibly fine. “What?”
“I have an idea.”
“Horses first. Then coffee.”
She laughed at that. “No, really. I’ve been lying here thinking...”
“Thinking before horses and coffee? You know that’s not normal, right?”
She nudged at him playfully. “Listen.”
“Fine.” He wrapped an arm around her, snugging her sleek, warm body nice and close to him. Now, this was a feeling without compare: Rory naked in his
arms so early in the morning it still kind of felt like the middle of the night. “Go for it.”
She shifted just enough to kiss the bulge of his shoulder. “Today, could you take a break from whatever needs doing at the houses and cabins? I want you to hike with me up to Ice Castle Falls. I was thinking we could go after breakfast. You know, pack a lunch and just go on foot. I looked it up online last night.”
“Oh, did you?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She idly stroked his arm. “There’s a trailhead that takes off right here at the ranch.” He knew that trailhead. They’d gone in from the other side and come down the falls from above, that summer they camped near there. She went on, “That trail is what—six or seven miles round-trip?”
He made a low sound. “That sounds about right.”
“And there hasn’t been a lot of snow yet, so it should be pretty easy going.”
“I know that trail well.”
She gazed up at him from under her lashes. “I kind of figured you did.”
“And it’s only in that last half mile or so that the going gets steep and rocky.”
“So we could definitely be back by early afternoon.”
Ice Castle Falls. Where she’d almost kissed him five years ago. “Why Ice Castle Falls?”
She was thinking about that summer morning, too. He could see it in her eyes. “It’s been cold, but not snowing a lot. And there’s no snow predicted today or tomorrow. Perfect conditions. The falls should be frozen, but not all mucked up with snow. Castles of ice. I want to get some shots of that.”
“So it’s just the pictures you want, huh?”
She snuggled even closer and shyly confessed, “Maybe I’d like to make a few new memories.”
“I knew it.” He tried really hard not to smile.
“Do not give me that smug look.”
He nuzzled her ear. “You’re using your princess voice again.”
She shoved at his shoulder. “Let me go.”
He held on. “Wait.”
She stopped shoving. “Then tell me something good.”
He told her the truth. “I did want to kiss you that day.”
Her sweet mouth trembled. She tucked her head beneath his chin and mumbled against his chest, “You just didn’t want to kiss me enough.”
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