by Hebby Roman
Eliza shrugged. "I'm thinking of heading to Center Hill Lake. Maybe rent a cabin for a couple days."
"Sounds good. The fishing is great there." Phil wandered off no doubt planning a fishing trip soon by the dreamy look on his face.
On the walk home, she stopped at the market and picked up a bottle of wine, makings for spaghetti and salad. She then went to the cupcake shop and picked up two cupcakes. Arms loaded she entered her apartment and opened all the windows to let the fresh air in since the afternoon had cooled to a nice seventy-five.
The wind blew through her small apartment and she turned her radio on to a soft rock station. Once that was done. She poured a glass of wine and took it with her to the bathroom. She'd shower to wash the smell of grease from her hair. Afterwards, she'd go online and search for a cabin and pack for the weekend. Her small Corolla, gas tank filled, was parked in front of her apartment and ready to go. She'd taken it for an oil change the day before, in Newton since Malone's garage was closed for the time being.
* * *
The rest of the day went by, she kept busy refusing to think of Mark. It was obvious by his lack of calls that he was moving in a different direction and although she had to blink away tears every time her mind wandered to him, she knew it would have been a lot worse if they'd been intimate.
The aroma of spaghetti sauce filled her apartment and she tossed the pasta with the sauce. Way too much for one person, but the leftovers would make a good meal over the weekend. The cabin she reserved had a full kitchen with microwave.
The doorbell didn't register at first. She looked out the window to see if Jay's truck was parked, but there wasn't any other car in front of her apartment other than hers and a black Jeep she'd not seen before.
Mark looked straight into the peephole when she peered through it. Her stomach tumbled and she took a deep gulp of air in an attempt to steady her breathing.
"Hey, beautiful," he greeted her with a bear hug and kisses to her temple. "I've missed you."
She wasn't sure how to react. Tears sprung to her eyes at his wide smile. "I couldn't wait for all those people to leave so I could come and convince you to go away with me for a few days. I got the cabin ready, packed food, and even picked up these." He held out a bouquet of daisies.
Things had not changed. She'd allowed her jealousy to fill her mind with scenarios. All the while this wonderful man was working his butt off and planning a weekend away.
It took a few seconds for him to realize she was struck silent. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" He looked past her into her apartment and then looked her over. "Say something."
"I love you!" She blurted and threw herself at him with so much force, he stumbled back. "You're such a sweet man."
He laughed and kissed her, walking her backwards into the apartment and kicking the door behind him.
Eliza looked up at him. "I have a week off."
A scowl formed on his face. "Where you planning something already?"
She glanced at her laptop. It would only take a couple clicks to cancel her reservation. "Not really, just need time off. So your timing is perfect."
"Does that mean you'll go with me?" His face brightened. "I expected you to say no. Just so you know, it has two bedrooms, so don't feel obligated."
"How about we discuss it over dinner. I have some questions."
"Like what?" He followed her to the kitchen where she filled a small vase and put the daisies in water.
"I want to know your favorite color. When is your birthday?"
"Oh." He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave her a crooked smile. "Green and March twenty-fourth."
"Interesting. I wouldn't peg you for a green guy." They sat at the table to a dinner of spaghetti, salad, and baked bread.
"How did you know it was Malone?" Eliza couldn't help but ask the question that had bugged her since she heard of Malone's suicide.
"Actually Jay gave me the lead." Mark took a drink of wine and shook his head. "He said Eddie was always late for work and Malone never got on him and the day of the murder, he'd gone to search out Malone to ask for a day off and Malone was not there. By the time we'd come to question Jay, Malone had arrived."
"Malone had time to do it?" Eliza asked still confused. "Why did he kill him? Is it true Shelly and him were having an affair?"
"Yep," Mark replied. "More than that, Malone and the Masons were selling drugs. Eddie found out about the affair and threatened to turn Malone in. Shelly got him drunk the night before the murder and in the morning gave him a handful of Benadryl telling him it was Tylenol. Malone called Eddie and set up a meeting to talk. By the time Eddie pulled in front of the closed consignment shop, I bet he could barely keep his eyes open."
"It's horrible," Eliza said.
"Let talk about something else," Mark interrupted. "How about our getaway?"
* * *
The next evening, Eliza stood on the large back deck of Mark's cabin overlooking the lake.
Being there reminded her of how affluent his family was. She'd asked him about his family and he'd been open about his relationship with his parents. They'd had a falling out over his choice not to be in the cattle business. He left for the police academy and not spoken to them for years.
After he'd been shot in Nashville, they'd reconciled and now they had a close relationship, and he visited them monthly. He had a brother who worked on the ranch, breeding horses and prize cattle. His parents were semi-retired.
She rubbed her arms in the brisk air and turned to find Mark standing in the living room watching her. He wore jeans, a simple black t-shirt and was barefoot. "Want some wine?" he asked.
"No." Eliza walked to him, lifted to her toes and kissed him.
"I want you."
They crashed into each other not able to hide the anticipation of coming together. Eliza could barely stand the friction on her skin of the fabric of her clothing when Mark pulled her closer, his hot mouth taking hers. The promise was no longer just that, but a certainty. He would be hers and she would give him all that she was. If his hungry kisses were any indication of what would come, she could barely stand the idea of it.
Her heart thudded against her breast and she raked her fingers through his short cut hair and pulled his mouth tighter against hers.
The straps of her dress slipped off her shoulders. He undressed her and it didn't matter one bit. Any shyness or insecurity flew out the window at his murmurs of appreciation. His lips covered every inch of skin the falling clothing revealed. His lips traced from her breasts to her stomach. By the time he kneeled to remove her shoes, Eliza was panting, barely able to stand.
He lifted her and carried her through the space, the entire time his eyes on hers. "Mine. You are mine."
"Yes." Eliza told him, and then pressed her lips against his neck. "I am all yours."
He guided her to lay on the bed and straightened. Eyes locked with hers, he slid his pants down his slender hips. "You keep looking at me like that and I'm going to embarrass myself and disappoint you.” His arousal was evident by the way his chest expanded with each breath.
Taking in his amazing body displayed for him, Eliza met his gaze. "You'll never disappoint me."
When he fell over her and their bodies melded together, it was perfect. Mark's kissing was nothing compared to how he made love.
"Please, now!" she called out over and over feeling as if she floated above the bed from all the wonderful sensations. Still he waited until she began shaking before he entered her. Even then he took his time taking her inch-by-inch stretching out every second until finally they were fully joined.
Sometime later, she screamed out his name and came with an intensity that shook her to the core. He followed soon after.
His kisses had been a good indicator, Mark was an amazing lover. Now as she lay spent across his chest, her lips curved at realizing, this would be the first of a few days alone together.
That night, the stars were visible from the glass panes
in the ceiling. Eliza listened to Mark's breathing and kissed his throat.
They still had to learn a great deal about each other. But they had a week to do that and much more. She snuggled closer and pulled a sheet over them.
What a dope, she'd told him she loved him. Hopefully he wouldn't remember that. It was too soon for "I love you's."
"Stop thinking and go to sleep. I have plans for that delicious body of yours in the morning." Mark kissed her open mouth. "And I love you too."
Thank you for reading Her Man by USA Today bestselling Author Hildie McQueen! If you’d like to read more of Hildie’s books, you can find them here on Amazon and on her website.
Border Romance
By Hebby Roman
Contemporary Western Romance
Copyright © 2017 by Hebby Roman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
About Border Romance
When Leticia Villarreal, a lonely widow, considers adding Quarter horse racing to her ranch, she finds she has a lot to learn. John Clay Laidlaw, a millionaire rancher and old acquaintance, races Quarter horses and offers to help. But he also cares for her and wants a relationship. Remembering his high-handed tactics when they were young, she doesn’t trust him. But when someone tries to harm her horses and John Clay rushes to her rescue, can she open her heart to him?
Chapter One
Leticia Villarreal pulled into the driveway at her ranch, El Prado Verde, in her Cadillac SRX. Señor Ramos was waiting for her in one of the rockers on her porch. That was unusual—he was a hard-worker. She hadn’t expected to see him sitting around in the middle of the day.
He jumped up and before she could turn off the car, he was at her door, opening it. “Bienvenido, welcome home, Señora Villarreal. I hope you had a pleasant stay in Del Rio.”
She grabbed her Brahmin purse and swung her legs out. “Yes, pleasant enough. Had to put a new roof on the Mission Apartment complex, but it was time, the roof was going on twenty years old.”
“I see.” He took her elbow. “Roofing an entire apartment complex must be very expensive.”
“Yes, property investments are always in need of maintenance, particularly residential property.”
She wanted to pull away, eager to get inside, greet Maria, and relax before dinner. But at the same time, she wondered why he’d been waiting for her.
He tightened his hold and steered her away from the front steps. “I have something to show you. Something spectacular. You will see.”
“So, you were waiting for me. I wondered what you were doing on the porch—”
“Perdón, Señora, sí, I was waiting for you. Chuy is down by Las Moras Creek with una sorpresa.”
Franco Ramos, her new horse trainer, despite having been born and lived in México for all of his forty-eight years until he came to work for her, was proficient at speaking English. But on occasion when he became excited, he forgot certain words and lapsed into his native Spanish.
He pressed closer, leading her along the winding and bumpy track down to the creek. She wished he’d waited until she’d changed into tennis shoes for their trek over the uneven dirt. But his enthusiasm was infectious, so she bumbled along, going as fast as her heels would allow.
And it was nice to have her arm cradled in his. His masculine touch awakened parts of her that she’d thought had withered away. His medium height and stocky build reminded her of Eduardo, her late husband. Sometimes, when she was lonely and couldn’t sleep at night, she wondered if she’d hired Señor Ramos for his impeccable credentials as a charro horse trainer or the way he looked on horseback.
It had been almost eight long years since she’d lost Eduardo. When would the hurt go away, when would the desolation diminish?
From several yards, if she didn’t look closely enough, when he was astride Frosty Prince, her charro stallion, putting him through his paces, she could almost imagine he was Eduardo, riding his beloved Bailador.
She closed her eyes and sniffed, tamping down the threatening tears.
Ramos glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Senora, are you okay?”
“Just a touch of spring allergies.” She wiped at her eyes. “And I wish you would have given me time to change into tennis shoes or boots. Heels aren’t what I would choose to go walking to the creek.”
“Perdón, Señora, mis disculpas, my apologies. I was too excited to think.” He pulled her closer. “But I won’t let you fall, and we’ll slow down.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” She glanced at him, her lips twitching. “Your surprise wouldn’t have anything to do with a horse. Would it?”
“Claro que, sí.” He nodded and smiled. “Always the horses.”
They rounded a bend in the dirt track, and she gasped. A huge swath of ground had been cleared beside the creek. The banks of Las Moras Creek, in this semi-arrid land, was a small oasis, crowded with twisted mesquite trees, purple-blossomed ceniza, stunted live oaks, spiky yuccas, and wispy willows.
She turned to him. “What have you done? I didn’t order the creek bank to be cleared, but since you did it, I hope you’re going to sow grass here for the horses and cattle.”
“Whatever you want, Señora. But first—”
“Did you do this without permission?” She tapped her foot in the dirt and then saw Chuy, her foreman, holding a sleek sorrel horse in the distance.
He bowed his head. “Sí, it was my idea to clear the quarter mile on the vega, but Chuy gave his permission and helped.”
“You must have used the bulldozer.”
“Sí, we did.”
“Is that the horse Chuy wanted to see at his friend’s ranch? I guess you both thought he was a good bargain?”
“El Rancho Halcón near Laredo has a wealth of horses, Señora, but Stormy Knight was a real… How do you say it?”
“A find?”
“Sí, sí.” He bobbed his head. “Chuy saw his bloodlines and drove a hard bargain. We have the registration papers. His name is Stormy Knight, and he’s descended from Royal Always and Ladybird Jones.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how much the gelding had cost, but she’d given Chuy the authority to spend up to twenty-five thousand if he thought the horse was good enough. But she’d been expecting a barrel racer or calf roping horse.
Later, she’d talk to Chuy.
“But why did you buy a racing horse?” she asked.
She knew there were various tracks around Texas and the Southwest, which hosted Quarter horse racing, as well as Thoroughbred racing, but she didn’t have the slightest idea of what Quarter horse racing would involve.
Franco held up one finger. “You must see this. When you see, you will understand.” He waved his hand at Chuy and pulled a stopwatch from his jean pocket.
She hadn’t seen Pedro, one of their stable boys, standing on the other side of the gelding. Pedro jumped aboard the horse.
She inhaled and waited. The earthy-smell of newly turned soil mixed with the freshly-budded plants of early spring, filled her senses. She loved the ranch, loved the peace it brought her, and the memories of happier times. But she needed to concentrate on the here-and-now and see what surprise Ramos and Chuy had in store for her.
Chuy pulled out a colored flag, holding it in front of the horse. He waved at them and then dropped the flag.
The sorrel surged forward.
At the same moment, as if they’d practiced in her absence, Ramos clicked his stopwatch.
Leticia stepped back and folded her arms across her chest.
The gelding’s hooves churned up the dusty flatland, clods of dirt flyin
g, hooves thundering. Just watching his speed, her heart pounded in tempo with his hoofbeats. He was a sight to behold, skimming over the ground. Before she could count to ten-Mississippi, he went flashing by them.
Ramos clicked the watch again and danced a little jig, thrusting it at her. “Mira, look, look! See the time! See the time! Twenty-point-five seconds, good enough to be a champion.”
She glanced at the stopwatch. “Good enough to win, I’m sure. Are you certain you measured off exactly a quarter of a mile?”
“Sí, Señora, the correct distance is four hundred and forty yards. We double checked. In so short a distance, accuracy es muy importante.”
She nodded. “That’s good, but I don’t have a racing stable. Why on earth would you and Chuy buy such a horse. I don’t know what to do with him. I guess, if he can make turns, he could be a barrel racer or if he’s steady, a calf-roping horse. But I fear—”
“It’s my fault, Señora Villarreal, I couldn’t resist him.” She glanced up to find Chuy had joined them, his cowboy hat held in front of his chest, as if he could shield himself from her disapproval.
She gazed at Chuy, not knowing what to say. He’d been Eduardo’s pick as a foreman. A widower, like her, he lived in a cabin on the ranch, and had devoted himself to El Prado Verde for over ten years. And he wasn’t given to flights of fancy.
Pedro reined in Stormy Knight and rode him over to their impromptu gathering. The horse was barely lathered and with a toss of his head, he pulled at the bit, as if impatient to run again.
She loved horses, all horses, any kind of horses. And she had to admit, he was a beautiful animal. The sorrel had a wide white streak down his forehead and three white socks. She approached the gelding, holding out her hand for him to smell.
With innate grace, Stormy Knight stretched out his long neck and snuffled her hand and then lipped her palm.