“See that clearing up ahead? That’s where the lake is, where we camped,” Joe said. He started his palomino at a trot. “Ryan, where are you?” he called, but there was no answer.
They stopped in an open meadow, and a small lake stretched out before them, trees off in the distance. If this had been any other time, Margaret would have enjoyed taking a few hours to relax or pitch a tent in solitude, just sitting by the lake.
“Joe, do you see anything, any sign of him?”
“No, nothing, no tracks. I haven’t see any sign they came this way.” He moved his horse closer to the lake. “Dammit, where is that kid?”
“Is there another way up here, another way he would have come?” Margaret asked. She needed him to think, to relax, to keep calm, because she was freaking out, thinking the worst. Ryan was riding Storm, an excitable horse, and he was a nervous boy, running from everything. It was a bad combination that could lead to tragedy, and she didn’t want to bring that up, not to Joe. God, losing a wife and then a son…what could be worse? Stop it, she snapped to herself. She had to stop where her thoughts were going.
“No. Shit, shit!” he shouted out in frustration. “There are a bunch of trails off here, going God knows where.”
Margaret got off Angel and led her down to the lake. “We need to rest these horses a bit. Come on down, Joe. You need to eat something.”
He climbed out of the saddle and let his horse drink, pulling out a rope and tying the horses so they could graze.
“Joe, we need to think about heading back,” Margaret said.
He started shaking his head before she had even finished. “No, I’m not leaving until we find my son.”
“Joe, we need help. This is a huge area. We need a search and rescue team. I should have thought of calling them in before we left.”
“Yeah, I know, but you don’t have a phone,” he snapped. He pulled out a cell phone from his coat pocket and held it up. “No service. There’re a lot of pockets without it around here.”
“Okay. Let’s at least ride back far enough that you can get service. You do know where you can, right?” she asked. When she was a kid, riding the trails with her grandfather, cell phones had been big and bulky, a luxury only the wealthy had, not that there would have been service way out here, anyway.
Joe shook his head. “I don’t know how far back we have to go. Here, I’ll give you my cell phone. You ride back, call for help. I’ll keep going.”
She could see the desperation on his face, and the last thing she wanted to do was get separated. He was tired, and so was she. They’d been up all night, running on adrenaline, and the horses needed a break. “No, we’ll stay together, but you need to rest first.”
He started to shake his head again and took off his hat, running his fingers through his hair.
“Joe, listen.” She touched his arm, which was a mistake, because just touching him had her yearning to throw her arms around him and hug him, wishing he’d pull her into his arms and hold her, too. She wanted it so badly. “The horses will be no good to us unless we give them a break. We’ve been on the move since last night.”
Joe’s deep blue eyes were gritty and bloodshot, just like her own. Now that they had stopped, she wanted to rest, and her head was feeling heavy. Even just an hour would help. She reached behind her saddle and unwrapped the mat and bedroll, setting it on the ground, in a dry spot under the trees. When she glanced back at Joe and saw his worry and stress, she realized she’d made the right choice. Whatever happened, she couldn’t leave him alone.
Chapter Fifteen
Joe stared out at the miles of vast wilderness. This was just one of many hidden pockets, and he wondered whether Ryan would have thought to come way up here. They could be off, way off. After all, he’d had a hard time finding the path in the dark when he started out with Margaret in the rain. What had Ryan been thinking, heading out on Storm into this? Ryan had never ridden alone. Joe would never have allowed it.
A hand touched his arm, and then Margaret stood right beside him with that ridiculous wide-brimmed hat that wasn’t made for a woman. She watched him, standing so close that he could feel her support, which was something he’d never felt from a woman before. He’d always been the support, the strong one, the one to hold everything together, and he liked that, but he found Margaret comforting at times, and he really liked being with her.
“I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for coming with me,” he said. He looked away when he saw her discomfort. Damn, the woman couldn’t handle a compliment.
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t thank me, though. I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you much of a choice. I care so much about Ryan. He’s such a great kid.”
There was something in her expression when she spoke about Ryan that he had never seen on one of his girlfriends’ faces—certainly never on Sara’s. Sara tolerated Ryan. She was polite, and so was he, but Ryan always left the room when Sara was around, and she never encouraged him to stay. With Margaret, well, wasn’t it just about Storm? Now he wondered. What else had he missed with his son?
“I didn’t realize you and Ryan were getting so close,” he said.
She had such a vibrancy, a life, that it shone from her eyes when something she was talking about filled her with passion. “Ryan feels comfortable talking to me,” she said. “He’s a great kid, but he holds on to so much. I guess I recognized myself in him, you know, two peas in a pod.” She touched his arm again. “Come and sit down over here. Rest for a bit.” She reached for something in the saddle bag, pulling out a water bottle and a bag of nuts. Then she started walking to where she had set the bedroll in the driest spot under the trees.
Joe followed. “So what has Ryan been telling you?” he asked. For some reason, hearing that his kid felt more comfortable talking with someone else made him feel inadequate, as if he was a bad parent. “Is there a problem? Is he keeping secrets from me? Did he say he was going to take off?” He was starting to get himself worked up as he followed her to where she sat cross-legged and patted a spot for him to sit beside her.
“Come on, Joe. Sit down.” She unscrewed the lid to a water bottle and held it out to him. “Drink. You have to have some water.”
Joe hesitated and then took the water bottle, taking a drink and then handing it back to Margaret. She didn’t bother to wipe the rim before taking a swallow. He sat beside her on the ground, feeling her heat and taking in her long legs as she extended them in front of her. Joe crossed his legs beside her and leaned back against the tree, his shoulder bumping hers. She opened the bag of nuts and offered him a handful, shaking it a bit when he didn’t shove his hand in right away.
“Thanks,” he said. He was touched by her generosity, such a simple thing that someone did when they cared. He didn’t remember a time when a woman had put his interests and comforts first—other than Evie.
“Ryan never felt threatened by me,” she said. “I don’t know what it was, but from day one, he started sharing little bits about himself, just like Storm did. They each had their own story to tell. When we own a horse, we have to become really comfortable with ourselves, to learn the horses’ language, the way they speak. Horses are honest, and they’ll always tell you the truth. I guess I just allowed Ryan to do the same thing.”
“So Ryan told you what an awful person I am,” he said. He couldn’t help it. He was worried his kid had said something bad about him. “Ryan should have come to me about his problems.”
She touched his hand, and he took in her long, slender fingers. She had short, clipped nails, efficient, different from the long, painted nails Sara wore. He turned his hand over, and she linked her fingers with his, squeezing gently.
“Ryan loves you very much,” she said, “but there are times when we feel misunderstood, and talking to someone who understands is the only thing that helps. I was just an ear for Ryan. He feels you’re disappointed in him, and Storm picked up on his fear of all his failings.”
“He said that?”
“No, not in so many words. This is about what he didn’t say, too.” She chewed on some nuts, and he wondered, by the way she was watching, whether she was judging him.
“Then what did he say, in so many words? Did he tell you he was going to take off?” he said. She flinched, because it came out much harsher than he expected. “Sorry.”
“Look, Joe, I know you’re upset. Ryan didn’t say he was going to run off. He was shocked when you announced you were going to marry Sara. He felt betrayed. I saw it. I know you couldn’t. You made him get in the truck with you when he wanted to do some work with Storm. He feels you don’t hear him, and even though you told me you were marrying Sara to give him a mother…” She stopped and shook her head. “Joe, you want Sara for you. Be honest, at least, about that. Sara isn’t interested in Ryan. Ask yourself, when has she ever had a real conversation with him, or tried to make him feel comfortable, or made any effort to spend time with him or get to know him?”
“She just needs time, and so does he, to get to know each other,” he said, realizing it didn’t sound true even to his own ears.
“Joe, seriously, you can’t make someone be comfortable with your kid. Maybe down the road, they’ll tolerate each other, but in case you didn’t notice, neither gives the other a second glance when they’re together. They avoid each other. Sara looks anywhere where he isn’t, as if she truly doesn’t see him. Ryan knows, and it hurts him. Why do you think he was pushing so hard to have me around, begging me to come to his party, making me believe that you wanted me there? I figured it out. In case you didn’t notice, it was me he ran to, not Sara.” She chewed on some nuts and looked out at the lake.
“Why are you so comfortable with my son?” he asked.
She hesitated and stopped chewing for a minute, looking down at her lap, their fingers still linked. She pulled her hand away about the same time he could feel something about her pulling in. “I really like him. Other than the fact that he reminds me of myself, he’s such an amazing kid, Joe. Deep down, he really wants to please you. I understand what he’s doing. I understand the feeling of not being wanted.”
“Why the hell would you say that? He’s my kid—don’t ever say I don’t want him!” He was on his feet, fisting his hands.
She stood up and stepped right into his space, meeting his gaze and stepping closer. This woman wasn’t afraid of him at all. “That’s not what I meant, Joe. I know you love him. I can see that. With that horse alone, you push him because you love him, but sometimes, when we push too hard and do what we believe is best, things actually backfire. He won’t say anything to you because he doesn’t think you’ll listen. With Sara and the other women you dated, he always made fun of that until you started getting serious. No matter what you do or did, he doesn’t like Sara because she doesn’t accept him. He feels you chose her over him, and he can’t tell you. He’d rather get himself killed by Storm than say one word to you about how he’s really feeling!” she said. Joe began to speak, but she cut him off.
“Storm is an excitable, high-energy horse, and he needs someone to match his energy. The emotion between you and Ryan…of course the horse is picking it up! If you start looking back on when you started having problems with Storm, you’d see the change that happened in your life. Ryan wasn’t as secure, he was uncertain, he was stressed. Every second of his life went into that ring with him, and Storm felt it. Ryan’s not that confident. He needs a horse who’s quieter, slower, older, more stable. He can start at the beginning. He needs to know you hear him, and you have to pay attention to him, because he says so much, Joe, without uttering one word.”
Her face lit up when she talked about his son, and if he’d ever had any doubt about how much she cared about Ryan, he didn’t anymore. “You love him, don’t you?” Joe said.
She blushed and set both hands over her cheeks. “How could I not?”
Joe placed his hands over hers. He lowered his gaze to her nose, narrow and long, and to her full, pink lips, wondering whether she had ever worn any color but her own. She had light brown freckles over the bridge of her nose and a soft chin that hardened when she was tense. Her eyes were big, full, brown, unable to hide any of the passion, pain, and heartache she had. She was such a passionate, honest woman, and he didn’t know why he hadn’t allowed himself to see it before now. When her eyes drifted to his lips and he felt her breathing become heavier, he couldn’t help himself from leaning in, setting his lips to hers gently, softly. He pulled away a fraction, feeling her warm breath. With no hesitation, he deepened the kiss, angling his mouth to hers, tasting her, his tongue touching hers. Her hat was gone, and his was on the ground, too, as he reached into her long, dark hair and ran his fingers through it.
Her hands slid up his back, her arms around him, and he set his hand behind her head, holding her to him as he slid his other down over her buttocks, pulling her to him. She stepped closer, pressing her curves into him, her fingers working into his shoulders, his back, as if she couldn’t get closer. He held her tight against him as he lifted her, and then they were on the ground. He pressed her arms above her head, and she hooked her long legs around his hips. He kissed her as if she were his last breath. He reached down and ripped open the snaps of her coat, lifting her sweater and bra and taking her breast, first one nipple and then the other, in his mouth, sucking and watching as her body lifted to him, closer.
She gasped and called out his name: “Joe, oh my God, Joe!” She had her hands under his coat, opening the snaps and then going for his belt buckle at the same time he ripped open hers. He pulled back just a few seconds to pull down her jeans as she toed off a boot and got one pant leg off. He unzipped and didn’t wait or be sure she was ready as he pushed into her hard and fast, and she locked her legs around his. He took her hands again and pressed them above her head, watching her as he moved.
Her eyes showed every emotion she was feeling, and he could see the moment he stripped her down that her heart had cracked open and he could step in. She was bare, innocent, and he realized he could probably get her to do anything. He could see how badly she would hurt and bleed, and he still couldn’t stop. He had to have her. This need, it was like the way a junkie needed crack. “Margaret, you feel so good,” he said.
She whimpered beneath him, and he felt her tighten around him as he let himself go.
Chapter Sixteen
Margaret’s heart was racing as Joe collapsed, all his weight on top of her. His heart was pounding to the same beat as hers. She ran her hand under his shirt, feeling his warm, bare skin and the muscles in his back. He was still inside her, and she felt wet and wonderful, but then she remembered Ryan, and Sara, and she started to push at his chest. “Get off,” she said.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
He pulled out of her, and she scrambled to her feet, her jeans bunched around one ankle. She turned her back to him. She couldn’t look at him, because she was suddenly embarrassed for throwing herself at him. Just who had kissed who first? She couldn’t remember. Her hands were shaking as she stepped into her jeans, stepping a sock foot on the wet ground. Every moment, she could hear Joe behind her, standing up, zipping up his pants, letting out a sigh of irritation, annoyance—hell, she didn’t know what it was. She heard the clink of his belt buckle, and she shut her eyes again as she zipped up her pants, pulled down her bra and sweater, and snapped up her coat. She turned, keeping her eyes to the ground as she searched out her boot, which was scattered out a ways. When Joe reached for it and then stepped into her line of sight, she did everything to look away until he took her jaw and leaned into her face.
“I’m sorry, but you didn’t act like you didn’t want to be fucked,” he said.
Her mouth gaped at his crudeness, and she stumbled back as if he had slapped her. “Is that all I am to you, someone to satisfy you? Well, you’ve had your fun. I have to tell you, I’m not a one-night stand. I’m not made that way. The casual sex that you men get off on is not something I can do.”
She started to say she wanted him to make love to her, that she had dreamed of it, but not like this. The words froze on her tongue. She couldn’t shake the sense of being back in that same, dark place as the unlovable woman Keith had left. She was doomed to repeat the cycle again and again. He hadn’t been as careful as Keith, and he’d left part of himself inside her. Maybe this was her one chance at having someone to love. She lowered her hand to her abdomen and set it there for a minute before glancing up at Joe. The man’s face was torn and weary, on the edge of breaking.
He handed her the boot, and she took it and pulled it on. “We should start riding before we lose light,” he said.
She didn’t say a word as she bent down, shaking off the leaves and pine needles and dirt from the bedroll before rolling it up. She didn’t look up as she heard him turn and walk away.
Chapter Seventeen
He rode with Margaret behind him in silence for hours, each one taking turns calling out for Ryan, Joe checking his cell phone over and over as they took one trail after another, weaving their way further away from home. The atmosphere was tense. He’d hurt her badly. He knew it, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was worried sick about his son, he’d have tried to talk to her, to smooth it over. He was confused as all hell about his feelings for Margaret and for Sara. He seemed to be screwing up one thing after the other, starting from what he had done to Evie. He wondered whether he could do anything right.
He heard something, a whinny, and stopped, holding his hand out to Margaret. “Did you hear that?” he said. He glanced back at her and the shadows of the forest around her as they listened. “Ryan!” he shouted again.
The One (Book 1, of The Wilde Brothers, A Contemporary Western Romance) Page 9