At this point, she didn’t have much choice but to continue on with her life and wait for Brock to decide what he wanted to do with his. If it included her, then so be it.
Two hours later she stood at the island in her kitchen puttering around as she made a new dessert she’d found online. Baking calmed her even in the worst situations. Right now she didn’t know which way was up when it came to Brock. This was her salvation.
A knock sounded on her door.
She stuck a batter-covered finger between her lips as she walked through the dining room, between the sofa and the chair, and then pulled open the door.
Brock stood on the other side of the screen with a bag in his hands.
He looked fabulous to her, but he also looked tired, worn, and beaten. His t-shirt was dirty, his jeans were muddy, and she wasn’t sure what was caked on his boots.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course, but leave those boots out on the porch. I’m not sure I want to know what is clinging to the bottom of them.”
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and that’s when she noticed his eyes were no longer clouded with doubt. Something had happened between last night and this morning to change him. A miracle, she hoped. He deserved a break for a change.
When she stepped back to let him in, he brushed past her. The odor of cattle trailed him. “The shower is free if you want to use it.”
He looked down at his shirt before glancing back up at her. “Yeah, I think I’m pretty ripe about now.”
“I didn’t want to say it, but yeah, you are.”
“I want to tell you something first. I got a job.”
“You did? That’s fantastic, Brock.” She wanted to hug him to her, but not knowing what was on his clothes, she dared not.
“Yeah. Cole Bidwell’s place. I met him in town today. He mentioned one of his ranch hands had quit, and he was short a body. I went out there and did some work for him today. He seemed pleased and told me to be there tomorrow morning again. I guess that’s good.”
“He’s a really nice guy. I’m sure you’ll do great out there.”
“I hope so, Lib. I need this more than you know.” He shook his head for a moment like a stray thought had gone through his mind before he smiled again and said, “I’ll be right back.” He looked at her intently before turning and walking down the hallway toward the bathroom.
A few minutes later, she heard the shower come on as she moved toward the kitchen to put the blackberry cobbler she’d assembled, into the oven. She set the timer and then began to clean up her mess in the kitchen.
Her imagination went wild with thoughts of Brock naked in the small expanse with water streaming down over his shoulders and down the muscles of his chest, the soap sliding over his ripped abdomen to pool at the base of his cock before streaming down his legs. She wanted to follow those bubbles with her tongue.
Now she stood with her hands on the granite countertop curled into fists as she fought her body’s response to the image in her mind. Her clit throbbed with need as she shifted her stance to try to relieve some of the pressure between her thighs. He’d left her wound as tight as a spring the night before, and thinking about him naked now just made it that much worse. Her nipples pebbled into tight nubs that rubbed erotically against her t-shirt. Her breath became choppy. Her heart raced in her chest, pounding against her ribs like a bird trying to get out of a cage as it frantically beat against the bars.
Hands came around her middle, pulling her back against a hard chest. Lips grazed her neck from behind her ear to the scoop between her neck and her shoulder. Her skin broke out in goose bumps at the touch of his hands. “Brock,” she whispered as she laid her head back against him.
“God, Lib.”
He cupped her breasts, rubbing the taut nipples as she moaned softly. She couldn’t push him away even though she should. Giving into him meant shutting off the shouting in her head as her mind told her he wasn’t good for her.
One hand skimmed down her abdomen to dip under the waistband of her shorts and between her thighs. The callouses on his fingertips grazed her clit, dragging out a shudder that rolled through her. When she turned toward him, he framed her face with his hands as he put his forehead against hers.
“You are so beautiful. I need you like my next breath.”
He moved his hands to her ass as he claimed her mouth with his and lifted her so she sat on the counter.
When her bare ass hit the cold counter, she gasped. Somewhere between standing and sitting, he’d gotten her shorts off her ass along with her panties
Her clothes hit the tile floor as he stepped between her parted thighs.
In seconds he had her shirt over her head and on the floor, revealing her breasts to his hot gaze.
“You are perfect.”
He worked his way down her chest, taking first the right nipple between his lips and then the left before he moved further down so he was positioned over her clit. Hot breath over her aching center made her whimper in need. She needed his mouth there, right there, more than anything.
“You are so wet.”
“Touch me. Lick me. Please.”
The very tip of his tongue swiped against her clit. Holy fuck!
She brought her legs up to perch her heels on the edge of the counter, opening herself to him so he could do what he wanted with her. Stopping this now would be the death of her.
Two fingers pushed into her pussy while his scalding tongue danced over her clit.
He licked and sucked on her clit, humming his pleasure against her flesh.
The torturous desire he wrought from her body had her on the precipice of the orgasmic high of her life, within moments. She tossed her head back, moaning low in her throat as she let herself go and came so hard she saw stars behind her eyelids. Her breath rasped out between her parted lips as her heart came back to a rhythm that didn’t feel like it would burst from her chest any second.
When he stood, the heat in his gaze singed her to the point that her skin felt on fire—for him. Not wanting to break the spell of the moment, she didn’t go into the lovey-dovey feelings running around in her head. “Fuck me, Brock.”
“My pleasure, baby.” He scooped her up in his arms and set her down on the dining room table.
He quickly removed his clothes, leaving his cock standing tall and proud against his abdomen. It was magnificent. Thick, long, and glistening with precome, she wanted to swipe her tongue over the tip to taste that salty flavor. She leaned forward intent on touching it, but he stopped her with a hand on hers.
“If you touch me now, I won’t be able to hold back. I’m going to have a hard time holding off my orgasm to give you one more.” He touched her face, skimming his fingers down her cheek. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Libby.”
She kissed his chest above his heart. Even if he wouldn’t admit to loving her, she loved him. That would never change. “I love you. That won’t change no matter whether you run from this or not. I know you want to take care of everything, that’s just the way you are, but it’s okay to need someone else sometimes.”
“I love you too. God, I love you so much.” He kissed her hard, his tongue caressing hers for a moment before he lifted his head. “I spent all last night thinking about you, about us, and I realized that you’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I don’t want to live without you.”
She grasped his cock in her hand and lined him up with her center. He slowly pushed inside, filling her to the point that it almost hurt. The pain was welcome though. It meant he was here with her, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
The slow glide of his cock in and out of her pussy was torture. Her pussy grasped at his cock every time he pulled out and pushed back in. At this rate, he was going to kill her with need. “Please, Brock.”
“Do you want me to fuck you hard or soft? Do you want me to rub your clit as I pound into you? Do you want me to flip you over and fuck you from behind? Tel
l me what you want, Libby.”
“All of it.”
He pulled back, flipped her over onto her stomach, and pushed his cock into her from behind as he reached around and pinched her clit.
Her world exploded on a rush, her orgasm rolling over her like a tornado ripping through a house. Nothing could stop it, and she didn’t want it to. “Brock!”
Chapter Eight
Brock stood outside the house of the woman he’d went to jail for murdering. He’d never been there before, but he’d had a weird sensation he needed to see it.
It wasn’t much to see really, a simple ranch-style house with green shutters, big windows, and a large porch. He hadn’t planned on going by the house even though the address had been burned into his brain for years, it just happened as he turned the corner onto Maple drive.
Darkness surrounded him, cloaking the area in an inky blackness that seemed to fill his soul. A small light burned in the window of the house, reminding him time had moved on. Revenge had been his only thought when he’d left Florida two weeks before, but now he wanted to move on with his life. He wanted a life with Libby.
She’d made him realize he’d done his time and could be the person he was meant to be. The past didn’t matter anymore. He had a future to look forward to.
The smell of rain on the wind and the distance rumble of thunder made tonight very similar to the night he’d been handcuffed and stuffed into the back of the police cruiser. The night the life he’d planned was irrevocably changed.
He’d been walking home from spending the evening working in the barn at Dunbar Ranch. He didn’t have a vehicle at the time, so hoofing it back and forth was his only option. That night after everyone else had gone home, he’d stayed in the barn in the hayloft dreaming of what his life would be like if he could just win a few more big purses riding broncs. He’d been doing fairly well the last several months before that and had even managed to save some of his paychecks.
He’d had a plan.
College.
He’d wanted to go back to school. He’d done the two years bumming around the area, working his ass off, and now he wanted to enroll in college and get a degree in electrical engineering. The possibilities were endless, since he had some money to get started.
After spending a few more minutes staring at the house, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked on down the street.
It was over.
The burning in his gut was no longer there. Libby had helped him extinguish the flames of revenge.
As he made his way toward the center of town, he realized he hadn’t really told Libby where he’d been headed when he’d left right after breakfast. He didn’t take her truck, preferring to walk and think. He had some plans to make and walking always helped clear his head. It was time be became self-sufficient. A job and a vehicle were on his agenda today, and he managed to accomplish at least one of those.
With night surrounding him, the lights of one of Bard’s premiere bars burned in the distance. A beer sounds really good. One wouldn’t hurt.
When he reached the big doors, he pushed the right one open and stepped inside. Lights swirled left to right and front to back near the stage where a band played country music. There were several dancers on the floor, two stepping to the music. He saw a few faces he recognized, but no one approached him as he made his way toward an empty table in the back near the corner. He could put his back to the wall and watch everyone as they came and went.
A cute little redheaded waitress stopped at his table. “What can I get you?”
“A beer is fine.”
She rattled off the types of beers they had on tap and in a bottle. He chose something and watched her walk back toward the bar without looking back. She wasn’t anyone he’d seen before, so it would be safe to not watch her.
People milled about, not paying him much attention. He could see faces in the brighter lights over the bathroom doors, making it easier to keep tabs on a few. Trouble would be something to avoid. He didn’t need the cops coming in and arresting him for something stupid only because he already had a record. Keep things low profile.
A man stepped up to his table, grabbed the chair across from him, and straddled it, resting his arms on the back. “Callahan.”
Brock recognized him immediately. “Officer Carlton. What can I do for you?”
The waitress came over with his beer, setting it on the table. “Hey, Dean. I haven’t seen you here for a long time. Can I get you something?”
Dean tipped his chin to indicate the beer on the table. “One of those would be fine, Maggie. Thank you.”
Her lips lifted in a smile as she said, “Sure.” It was obvious the girl thought Sheriff Carlton was someone she’d like to get to know better.
Dean watched her walk back toward the bar before he focused back on Brock. “I went by Libby’s a couple of days ago. You weren’t there, but I told her to tell you to call me.”
“She must have forgotten. She’s been really busy at the clinic the last two days. We haven’t seen much of each other.”
Dean shrugged his shoulders as the waitress came back with his beer and set the bottle down in front of him. “Thanks, darlin’.”
Brock found it rather funny when the girl backed away from Dean without turning around and then smacked into someone. “Nice girl.”
“I guess. Too young for me.”
“She doesn’t think so.”
“Whatever.” Dean took a long draw off the beer in his hands. “Listen. After I ran into you in Fort Mavis the other day, I got to digging a little into your case. There are a lot of inconsistencies in the evidence, and the lawyer you had was a complete idiot.”
“Yeah, I know. Not much I could do about it at the time, being state appointed.”
“I can imagine so. If you don’t mind, I want to reopen your case.”
“How can you do that? You’re the sheriff in another county.”
“I have a friend who is a private investigator. He’ll do the digging. I’ll be a bystander and help where I can. Who knows? If we blow this case wide open, there might be some cross over between Bard and Fort Mavis. There could be something there that connects the two.”
“Do you think so?”
“Maybe. There are a couple of unsolved murders in Fort Mavis that are freakishly similar to the one you were convicted of.” Dean scratched his jaw. “Although I’m not sure why they didn’t try to convict you of those as well.”
Brock thought back to the few meetings he had with his attorney. Dean was right. The guy was an idiot, a drinker, and who knew what else. He didn’t have a clue what it meant to defend someone who was innocent. Every bit of what had been presented was circumstantial. They had a witness that said he’d been seen in the neighborhood milling about across the street under a street light the night of the murder, but when the man was asked to identify him in court, he couldn’t.
Evidence presented said her throat had been slit with a hunting knife that was found in the kitchen, with his blood and fingerprints on the handle.
When they presented the knife in court, he’d recognized it as one he’d bought with his own money at the age of sixteen after he’d gotten his first paycheck from the ranch. He’d loved that knife and carried it everywhere in a special pouch at his waist. Three months before the murder, he’d lost the knife somewhere. He’d been heartbroken at its disappearance, but when it had appeared as the murder weapon, he’d tried to tell them he’d lost it. The jury didn’t believe him.
During his time in the pen, he rehashed every detail of the trial and the evidence. He’d remember cutting his thumb with the knife one day right before it disappeared, leaving blood on the handle. He’d planned to clean it off when he went home that night from work, but he’d forgotten and then it had vanished.
“Okay, come on back, Callahan.”
He focused his attention back on Dean. “Sorry. Memories can be haunting.”
“I bet.” Dean took another drink of
his beer. “I’d like for you to meet with my friend. Go over details. You know, give him your side of the story. He’ll be able to sort things out from there.”
“It’s been so long ago now. How can anyone find the truth?”
“If there is a truth to be found, he’ll find it. He’s an expert on cold case files. He’s been a detective in the Los Angeles police force for a long time, but retired after he was shot on a case where they cornered the perp. He wasn’t able to work anymore, so he became a private investigator.”
Brock’s hands began to sweat. Could they really find out who’d killed that woman and her baby? Would they be able to clear his name? He rubbed his itchy palms down the thighs of his jeans. He almost felt sick to his stomach with excitement over the prospect of being declared innocent.
“The guy is the best, Callahan. He’ll get this done.”
“Why are you helping me, Carlton?”
“After I saw you in Fort Mavis the other day, I remember how intrigued I was by your case. I wasn’t in law enforcement yet, but I really felt you were given the shaft for some reason. Everything I’d read said you didn’t do it. Seeing you again brought those feelings back, and call me a sucker if you want, but I’m all about helping those wronged. It’s my nature.” He sipped his beer again. “Besides, Libby is a friend of mine. She believes in you or she wouldn’t have you around. That’s a pretty good reference in my book.”
“Libby and I have known each other for a long time.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, Callahan. I think you are innocent in the murder of that woman, but that doesn’t mean you are necessarily the best thing for Libby. I will leave that up to her though. She’s a grown woman and can decide for herself. With that said, I don’t want to see her hurt either.”
“I love her, Dean, and she loves me. I don’t plan to hurt her if I can do anything to stop it. She means the world to me.”
“Good. I hope you two have a long, happy life together.”
Brock watched Dean for a minute, wondering if he meant what he said. Maybe he wanted Libby for himself? Dean was a good-looking guy and could give Libby everything she needed. To hell with that! Libby is mine! “I’m sure we will, and if I can clear my name that will make things better all the way around.”
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