Forever Falcon Ridge (The McLendon Family Saga Book 7)

by D. L. Roan

  Her shoulders dropped and she uncrossed her arms, the fiery fight draining from her tensed muscles.

  “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you,” he admitted, “and, it has me more than a little off kilter. I said we’d take things as slow as you wanted, and I still mean that, but between this mornin’ and watchin’ you kick ass out there today… I’m a man, Dani. I know it’s a piss poor excuse, but I can only take so much before somethin’ blows.”

  She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curled up into a reluctant grin.

  “Can we be done with this stupid argument so I can kiss you?”

  “That depends,” she said, toeing at some imaginary spot in the dirt. “Do you really think I kicked ass today?”

  Clay laughed and pulled her into his arms, taking her stubborn mouth in a kiss he’d craved all damn day. “You’re better than good, beautiful. Hank was right. Jackson definitely poached the wrong cowboy.”

  She grinned, but then dipped her head and stared down at his chest. “I’m sorry, too. I guess I’m just oversensitive about this alpha male stuff, and…”

  “And?” he prodded.

  “And…” A wholly different look swirled in her eyes when she glanced back up at him. A look that felt like he’d been waiting a lifetime to see. “I don’t want you to sleep across the hall tonight.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The box of condoms slipped from Clay’s fidgety fingers and tumbled beneath the bed. “Hell.”

  He crouched to the floor and lifted the side of the quilt covering the bed, cursing again as he squeezed into the tight space to reach it. One would think he was the virgin, as nervous as he was.

  He pulled two packs from the box, stuffed them into his pocket, then set the box on the nightstand beside the bed and took one last look around the guesthouse. A one-room cabin with a small refrigerator, storage closet, and single bath, it wasn’t much, but there was no way in hell he was making love to Dani for the first—and hopefully a second and third time—three doors down from his pop’s bedroom.

  Fresh sheets? Check. Candles? Check. Prophylactics? He looked back at the box on the nightstand and snatched it back up, tearing off another two and adding them to the ones already in his pocket. One could never be too prepared.

  “Music,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

  On his way back to the house, he programmed a sexy playlist into his phone. Now all he had to do was make it through the dinner his pops had insisted on cooking as thanks for all the work they’d done on the branding crew. The old man had been right. Virgil’s wingman skills sucked!

  His phone beeped with an email notification and he clicked over to check it, groaning as he read the name. He’d completely forgotten about Dwight Gardner, who wanted to know if he’d received his prior email and if he was going to be able to come by the next day to talk terms with his son.

  He hadn’t yet mentioned it to Dani, but he typed out an affirmative reply anyway, along with a time he would be there, then pocketed his phone. She might say no at first, but he could think of a dozen ways to change her mind by morning.

  Ready to scarf down whatever ended up on his plate and get Dani all to himself, Clay stepped through the back door and froze, both the door and his mouth hanging agape at the two conflicting images before him.

  On one end of the sofa sat Dani, freshly showered, her long chestnut hair hanging loose from the confines of the pony tail she usually wore. She looked positively radiant, her eyes dark and promising with the extra makeup she wore. But it was the short black dress and the mile of bare, toned legs it showed off that had him struggling to breathe as he tried to process the figure standing at the other end of the sofa.

  “Shannon? What are you doin’ here?”

  “I was just, um…” Shannon looked nervously over her shoulder and Clay followed her gaze toward the kitchen, where his pop’s girlfriend appeared in the doorway, a wad of cash in her hand.

  “I didn’t have a twenty, but—oh! Hi, Clayton.”

  “Nannette.” Clay nodded, his gut tightening in frustration as his plans for a quick dinner slipped right through his fingers. Good God! What are they doing here?

  Shannon gathered her purse and turned for the door. “Nann, I told you, that’s not necessary.”

  “Oh, stop.” She forced the cash into Shannon’s hand. “You didn’t have to offer me a ride when my truck wouldn’t start, but you did. It’s a long drive out here, especially after the shift you had today. The least I could do is pay you for some gas.”

  Shift? “You’re workin’ at the Bulzeye?” Clay asked. Granted, Nannette had thrown out most of the riffraff when she took the saloon over a few months back, and it was probably one of the best watering holes this side of Midland now, but Shannon working in a bar? She had a good job at the bank.

  “Yeah,” Shannon said with a heavy sigh. “That promotion I was going for didn’t work out. I needed some extra cash to make up for the traveling expenses from the conference, so Nann gave me a shot.”

  “And I’m glad I did.” Nannette nodded. “You’re going to work poor Jaqueline to death trying to keep up with you.”

  Jaqueline. Another blast from his past, not that he’d ever dated the woman. He’d known since the eighth grade not to touch that vindictive bitch with a ten-foot pole. Too bad his best friend hadn’t had the same basic survival instincts.

  Shannon blushed under the praise, managing a half smile. “I guess I should be going,” she said, glancing up at Clay.

  Shit. He couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t offered Nannette the ride as an excuse to see him. Or was she hoping to see Jackson? Either way, it was a wasted trip, but he hated seeing the defeated look in her eyes.

  “You should stay for dinner,” Virgil yelled from the kitchen, then appeared in the doorway.

  No-no-no-no-no! No, she shouldn’t! He didn’t feel that bad! What was his dad thinking?

  “Like Nann said,” Virgil continued, “it’s a long haul out here just to turn around and drive back to Fort Stockton on an empty stomach.”

  Shannon shook her head.

  Thank God! Clay released an audible sigh of relief.

  “I have to pick Pax up but thank you.” She smiled at Dani and gave her a polite wave. “It was nice meeting you,” she said, then glanced at Clay one last time before she turned and walked out the door.

  “Dinner’s in ten,” Virgil announced and turned back into the kitchen.

  “Um, Pops, can I talk to you?” Clay held up a finger, letting Dani know he’d only be a minute, then followed Virgil into the kitchen, glancing back to see Nannette make herself at home with Dani on the sofa.

  “You’re gonna’ have to talk and stir, son. Don’t want the gravy to scorch.”

  “What is Nannette doin’ here?” he asked in a hushed whisper, picking up the wooden spoon and swirling it into the redeye concoction in the skillet.

  “I invited her,” Virgil said, setting the slab of prime rib on the table. “You’re not the only one trying to get some action around here, you know.”

  Clay closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. If his dad only knew. “So, you do understand that’s the goal. Right? Not that I don’t appreciate dinner, but sittin’ around jawin’ all night with company—”

  “Relax.” Virgil chuckled, throwing a jostling elbow into Clay’s side. “I’ve got you covered. Trust me.”

  Clay raised a brow, watching his dad flit around the kitchen like Betty Crocker. I’m so fucked. The bitter smell of burnt coffee wafted into the air and he glanced down to see the gravy boiling over the side of the pan. “Shit!”

  An hour later, their plates were cleaned and their stomachs full. Clay sat beside Dani, listening as she and Nannette talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. Not that he wasn’t happy she and his dad’s new girlfriend had hit it off. Nope. Nothing would make him happier, except being between Dani’s thighs, which he’d been stealing glances of every time she shifted in her seat.
That dress was driving him insane!

  His patience at its frayed and frazzled end, he reached beneath the table and slid his hand beneath the hem of her skirt.

  Dani flinched and squeezed her thighs together. He took a swig of his beer to hide his grin as he urged her thighs apart.

  “I think I’ve got it.” Nannette set her glass of wine down and counted on her fingers as she spoke. “Your three grandfathers are married to the same woman, your grandmother.”

  Dani nodded, her hand clutching his with a bruising grip, but Clay wouldn’t budge.

  “They had three boys, your dads,” Nanette continued, “and they’re all married to your mom.”

  “Correct.” Giving up, Dani let his hand go and grabbed her beer, guzzling what was left as Clay slid his hand up further, biting his lip to keep from moaning aloud when his fingers grazed her damp, lacy panties.

  “What I don’t quite have a grasp on is your uncle being married to your other grandfather,” Nanette said, driven by what appeared to be genuine avid curiosity. “I get the part about your uncle actually being your great uncle, your grandmother’s brother, but how does that work with him being married to your mother’s father?”

  Clay slipped a finger beneath her panties, every muscle in his body tensing to the point of breaking bones when he felt how wet she was. If he didn’t get her out of there soon, he would be taking her virginity in a broom closet.

  Dani set her bottle down with a thud, taking quite an effort to swallow her last sip. “Papa Daniel, um…” Clay choked back a chuckle as she crossed her legs, trapping his hand between her thighs. Right where he wanted it. “Papa Daniel isn’t related by blood,” she continued, trying to ignore him. “He met Uncle Cade in Germany during the Cold War, but then Uncle Cade got an assignment and had to leave. They didn’t see each other for a long time, until Papa Daniel asked him to help protect my mom from the men who’d kidnapped his own daughter. That’s how my mom first met my dads, when Papa Daniel brought her to Falcon Ridge.”

  “Ohhh.” Nanette’s eyes widened with excitement. “Now that sounds like a story I’ve got to hear!”

  “Hold that thought,” Virgil said, pushing back from the table. “I’ve got a little surprise I’ve been waitin’ to share.” He winked at Clay before he opened the liquor cabinet, shuffled the bottles and pulled one from the back.

  An uneasy feeling stirred in Clay’s gut. He watched as his dad set out a few shot glasses and filled each one. With what, Clay wasn’t sure, because Virgil kept them hidden from view until he turned around, placing four shots on the table.

  “Oh, hell no!” Recognizing the White Lightning, Clay reached for the glass Virgil had set in front of Dani. One shot of that and he’d have to carry her to bed, not exactly the night he had planned.

  “You give that back,” Virgil insisted, taking the glass from Clay and setting it back in front of her.

  Dani arched a challenging brow at Clay and reached for the glass. He gave her a pleading look, but when it was clear she was misunderstanding him, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Careful. That stuff will sneak up on you quick.” He gave her thigh a squeeze, hoping she got the message.

  “True statement,” his dad said, holding up his shot glass to inspect the clear liquid fire. “Allen outdid himself on this batch. You won’t even feel it goin’ down.”

  “Well, I’m game,” Nannette said, giving Dani a wink. “We’ll do it together.” She held up her glass and Dani toasted it with her own.

  Clay groaned as he watched her shoot it back. This was not going to end well.

  “Wow,” Dani hissed, licking her lips. “You’re right. That’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “You want a double, darlin’? I’ll pour you another. Just say the word.” Virgil asked, and Dani handed him her glass.

  “Pops!” Clay scrubbed a hand over his face, eyeing his dad. He was going to have a come to Jesus talk with him about his wingman skills. He appreciated that his dad thought he was doing him a favor by getting Dani tipsy, if not outright drunk, but he wasn’t operating with all the facts. “You shouldn’t be drinking that with your new medications.”

  Virgil raised one bushy white eyebrow and cocked his head back. “The day I can’t have a drink of the good stuff is the day you’ll be puttin’ me in the ground.”

  There’s an idea.

  “Oh, come on. Do one with me,” Dani urged, squeezing his thigh with a mocking grin. Beneath the table, her hand slid higher. Clay sucked in a breath, holding her gaze as she tentatively grazed her fingertips over his cock. Sonofabitch!

  Gritting his teeth, Clay clinked his glass against hers and Virgil’s, trying not to curse when his dad gave him a See? I’ve got your back look, and downed the first shot, slamming his glass onto the table.

  An hour and two shots later, he and Dani stumbled into the guesthouse, a tangle of arms and legs and half discarded clothes. The door clicked closed and she backed him against it, their mouths connecting in one hot kiss after another as she frantically worked at the button on his jeans.

  “H-hold up a sec.” He gripped her wrists, trying to slow things down a notch or twenty. He wasn’t drunk, much, but she was, and as much as he needed her hands on him, it wasn’t going to happen. “Beautiful, wait,” he pleaded. “I can’t do this. Not like this.”

  “Not like what?” She twisted out of his hold and ripped her dress over her head, revealing a matching black bra and lacy thong beneath. “Not like me?”

  God and fuck help me.

  His groan filled the quiet darkness, his head falling back against the door with a thud as he remembered how wet and ready she was. Determined, he shook the fog of lust from his brain. This couldn’t happen. Just back away, Sterling. “Dani, we—”

  His argument derailed and he swallowed it whole. He was trapped in helpless wonder as her bra slid down her arms and fluttered to the floor.

  Shit.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A soft hum vibrated against Dani’s ear. Consciousness loomed, bringing with it a bright light that pierced her eyelids. She squeezed her eyes closed in protest and snuggled against the warm body beside her, breathing in the fresh clean scent of soap and something pine.

  Warm body?

  Alarm burned through enough of the haze to know she wasn’t dreaming and she uncurled her fingers, tracing them along the bare skin beneath her hand, noting the smattering of coarse hair that grew thicker the further south—.

  “Careful.”

  Clay’s deep voice jolted her to a fully conscious state and she froze, forcing her eyes open one at a time to see him stretched out beside her.

  “Oh my god!” She shot up from the pillow, then grabbed her head. “Oh, my god,” she moaned again as a confusing cloud of memories from the night before came rushing back with the pain, hammering against the inside of her skull. She forced her eyes open enough to glance at Clay, then squeezed them closed again, scrambling through the haze to remember when he’d removed his clothes. A panic inducing realization hit her like a train and she lifted the sheet from her chest.

  Or when I removed mine!

  Clay drew her back down beside him, hooking his leg over hers, and trapped her beneath him. “Mornin’, beautiful.”

  Dani stared up at him in disbelief, searching every corner of her mind for any memory of… She swallowed against the dry cotton in the back of her throat. “Um…did we…?”

  Clay’s wide grin snapped into a frown, a deep line forming between his brows. “You don’t remember?”

  No. No-no-no! This isn’t happening! How could she not remember? Nausea built in the pit of her stomach and rose to the back of her throat. “Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Real sick or fake sick?” Clay asked.

  “Real sick.”

  Clay scrambled off the bed, reappearing beside her with an empty trash can. She leaned over the side and heaved, but nothing came up. The wave passed and Clay released her hair, sett
ing the can on the floor beside the bed before he eased a hip onto the mattress beside her. “You’d probably feel better if you got it out of your system.”

  She flopped back down onto the mattress with a huff. “Ugh, I’m such an idiot.”

  Clay grinned. “I tried to warn you.”

  “No.” Dani rubbed her forehead, feeling like she’d been kicked in the head by a mule. “I mean, yes, that, but I…” She couldn’t look at him. He had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened. She didn’t know what had possessed her to take that second and third shot. “I was nervous,” she reluctantly confessed. “I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted to be perfect, not some bumbling virgin you had to treat with kid gloves. I thought a shot or two would take the edge off.” She’d been right about that. Apparently, she’d skipped the entire thing. “Clay, I don’t…” know how to say this. “The last thing I remember, with any clarity, was sitting at the table with you, Virgil, and Nann.”

  His sleepy eyes crinkled in the corners with his wide, teasing grin. “That’s exactly why we didn’t.”

  Dani blinked. “Didn’t what?”

  Clay slid further onto the bed, reaching out to cup her jaw. “I don’t want perfect, Dani. I want you, one hundred percent sober, willing and ready. That’s all.”

  Dani stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “So, we didn’t...” She glanced at the impossibly large hard-on tenting his boxers.

  Clay shook his head, taking his length into his hand. “Much to his disappointment, no we did not.”

  She grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on, luckily for him it was a pillow, and slapped it against his head. “You let me believe we had sex and I didn’t remember it?”

  Clay blocked her assault, laughing incredulously as he tackled her back onto the mattress, pinning her once again beneath him, this time settling between her thighs. “Believe me, beautiful, when I finally get inside you, you’ll not forget it any time soon.” He flexed his hips, pressing the tip of his cock against her, only his underwear between them. His breath rushed out, hot and strained against her neck, but then he lifted his head and stared down at her with a worried look in his eyes.