***
Every morning, the rancher came in for his coffee and breakfast. He jawed with Miss Bessie, and the old girl flirted back as if this tall, arresting man had made an appointment in her dance card. Not only did he tower over the rotund black woman, he was a good eight inches taller than my five feet six. Heavy brows, a thick mustache, his head crowned with dark and sometimes unruly hair, gave him a casual but very masculine appeal – not to mention that he reeked of a gritty and immovable presence that rose above everyone else in Miss Bessie’s Diner. He didn’t ask to take command, he simply had the attitude of power and, from what I understood, a good deal of money and stature in Rio Marinas to back him up. I liked what I saw the minute I laid eyes on this striking male. He would be steadier, less impulsive than Tom Quinn, certainly more sane than Jon Ryder. But despite the appeal of his good looks, amiable personality, and quiet strength, he was definitely an older man, which was why I quickly checked him off the list of possible boyfriends. Not that I was looking for a boyfriend exactly, that was out for the time being, but I was still interested in sex. A fuck buddy would do if nothing else. However, the rancher didn’t seem to be the kind of man to enter into that sort of informal relationship with a woman. I sensed that he would be the old-fashioned kind of male who politely opened doors for women, while at the same time expected them to know their place. Not very 21st century, but an aspect that curiously appealed to my quirky nature.
After several weeks washing dishes and preparing food at the diner, Bessie finally let me take a shift waiting tables and serving at the counter. Not surprising, the rancher was there the first day, lingering after the bulk of the breakfast traffic was finally out the door. He remained in his seat at the counter, even though there was no Miss Bessie around to engage in conversation.
I arrived in front of him with the coffee pot. “Another cup?” I asked. Despite the Formica counter between us serving as an adequate barrier, we seemed awfully close for several awkward moments. Too close. Awkward for me, but obviously not the rancher. Our eyes met and I was all jittery inside, but quick to repress that raw agitation, knowing it was no more than a silly crush, and I was much too old, my life too important to let myself fall so easily under the spell of any man. Yet, despite all my vows to remain unaffected by the man, we connected immediately as male and female. With no effort on my part, I found a subtle warmth beginning to spread through my belly and thighs, sure signs that I was aroused. Even my panties had begun to dampen.
This simply was not fair! I could hear my inner thoughts protesting this unforeseen development.
“Another cup? Sure,” the rancher said with a smile, then he added as if I owed him the introduction, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Samantha Ross,” I said. “And you?”
“Lawton Brady.”
The name rang bells immediately. Yes. Right! The stubborn rancher who was suing the State of California over water rights – the lawyer in me had grabbed onto whatever local commentary the small weekly newspaper furnished about the community. An entire page had been devoted to Lawton Brady’s campaign two weeks before. If that weren’t enough to steer me clear of him, nothing would be.
“Don’t… don’t draw attention to yourself…don’t get close to those that do.” Tom Quinn’s warning echoed inside my head.
Six weeks later, I was still pouring coffee for Lawton Brady every morning same time, while he sat on the same barstool and ordered the same plain cheese omelet and wheat toast. By then, he could engage me in a gentle, sparring conversation and I’d not freak out, or get all wet in the panties. He had a flirtatious way with women that seemed much more universal than specific so I figured I had nothing to fear. He was probably married anyway, so any interest he had in me would have been simply platonic. During conversations with Miss Bessie and Lawton Brady, I had plenty of opportunity to practice the details of my biography, something that Quinn had made me make up and repeat to him at least a dozen times before he thought it sounded believable. Far as I knew, no one had any reason to believe that I wasn’t a college drop out from Florida who wanted to travel before she settled down. Those who got close enough to hear the larger version, knew me as a smart, adventurous female who was thinking of returning to school as an art major once I could establish residency in California. A few other details about my small but distant family seemed to satisfy anyone’s curiosity. I sometimes threw in a failed relationship as another reason for taking off from my old life; certainly this would be plausible for any young woman my age, and in my case it was the one thing in my bio that was not a lie.
Sometimes I wondered if Lawton Brady wasn’t looking for bigger answers from me, but since I wasn’t about to pry into his life, he really didn’t have much reason to pry further into mine. I kept our conversations pleasant but short.
On one particular Friday morning, I gazed down at Lawton’s plain cheese omelet as I set the plate in front of him.
“Don’t you ever try the grits and biscuits?” I asked. He must have insulted Miss Bessie, never ordering the diner special.
“Nope. I’ve been ordering the same thing every morning for ten years, why change now?” he replied in his usual succinct manner.
“Because you might find something else you like better, or at least as well.”
He shook his head. “What Miss Bessie do, sic you on me?”
“Heavens no! I speak for myself.”
“Yeah.” He stared me in the eye in a way that I couldn’t avoid. “So, exactly what’s a gutsy, smart young woman doing waiting tables in a place like this?”
“Hey, now you have insulted Miss Bessie,” I shot off lightly, intending to ignore the question.
“Don’t you think she wonders too? I mean what you’re hiding.”
I stared back at him flustered. Was I that transparent? Had I been kidding myself all this time?
I had a feeling that the tremor of fear that suddenly crept into my body was as clear to him as it was to me. I missed a beat or two before the cook, Jesse, called out that my order for table six was up. I dashed off and made sure that I was too busy to return to Lawton Brady before he was ready to leave.
I tried avoiding Lawton the next morning, but that was impossible with me being the only waitress. I calmed myself, forced back my fears, knowing that confidence was the one sure defense against being found out. Quinn had taught me that too.
Practicing was actually good for me; the gently probing nature of Lawton’s comments shouldn’t shake me. I’d done nothing wrong, and I had every right to protect myself – another gem from Tom Quinn. I couldn’t let myself get ruffled or back down in a way that would cause people to think that I really had something to hide.
Yet, as I poured Lawton his coffee, he looked at me with an amused and alarming grin.
“Sorry to upset you yesterday.”
“Upset?”
“It showed,” he said.
I smiled coyly. “To answer your question, let’s just say that I’m not really hiding anything, but I did need a change from big city life and Rio Marinas seemed to be a perfect place. Sometimes there are things you just don’t really want to talk about.”
“Good enough for me,” he said without asking more.
“And Miss Bessie? I hope she doesn’t think I’m hiding something, because honestly, I’m as genuine as the sun out there.” I pointed out the window.
I think I pulled that off rather well, sounding a lot more confident than I had the day before. Lawton Brady seemed satisfied enough, and our glib relationship of words about not much of anything continued in much the same vein for another two months. What brought about the sudden change between us, I’m not sure.
“How about dinner tonight, Samantha?” he asked the question so out of the blue that I looked at him to be sure he was serious.
I know that I tried to discourage him, but there was something inevitable about the course of our relationship that even I sensed. Had it been carefully thought out in Lawt
on’s mind? Or did he react spontaneously? Had my months in Rio Marinas proven something to the man?
“Dinner?” I’m sure my face registered my shock. How on earth had that happened?
“You do eat, don’t you? I mean when you’re not here?”
“Not much, actually. Miss Bessie fills me full and makes me take more home.”
He laughed. “You’re at Inez’s Apartments, right? I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Sure, fine,” I replied, still dazed.
He’d paid his bill and was almost out the door when I called after him.
“Lawton!” He looked back. “How do I dress?”
“Dress in anything you want, jeans is fine. The place is casual. Hope you like seafood.”
“Seafood, sure. I’ll see you later.”
He was gone before he heard all of my last comment.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed a man in my life until I sat side by side in Lawton Brady’s big black truck. I heard that he also drove a red Ferrari but so far I’d not seen him in anything that looked like a sports car.
We traveled down the coast to a small beach bistro in a neighboring town where the atmosphere was easy going and not much fancier than Miss Bessie’s Diner.
I relished every bite of fish and shrimp and Dungeness Crab, and would have eaten more, but I was just too full. A cold beer finished off the meal.
“You aren’t married, are you?” I suddenly blurted out, knowing the moment the words left my mouth how strange they must have sounded. We’d been together for nearly two hours; one would have thought I’d have covered this little detail much sooner, but I hadn’t. Since it continued to pester my mind, I finally had to spit it out. If I was going to let myself get involved with Lawton, I needed this one thing cleared up now.
“Married? Me?” he looked incredulous. “Hell no!” He answered so defiantly that it took me aback.
“What, like marriage is a plague?”
“Not in the slightest. I’ve just never found a woman who suited me. Including the one I married.”
“You were married?”
“Once. Lasted seven years and we fought all the way to divorce court. I’m not sure if she’s ever stopped being a bitch, but I really can’t say. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“I see.” I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about this information and the attitude behind it.
“But,” and he brought me back comfortably within his somewhat unnerving gaze, “my feelings about my former wife don’t keep me from enjoying the company of a beautiful and charming woman like you?”
I couldn’t stop the blush that rose up on my cheeks. “Oh dear, now you’re laying it on thick,” I wryly retorted.
He was much amused, which again had my head spinning, my emotions a wreak waiting to happen.
I could barely stand to look at him, while his gaze seemed fixed on me. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I finally complained.
“Like what?”
“Like it’s an inspection.”
“Sorry. There’s something about you that is intriguing.”
“Oh, it’s not my sordid past you’re wondering about again, is it?” I joked.
“No, just that some women give off a particular vibe. And you’re one.”
“Vibe. Hum…” Old word, but he was older, so I supposed it fit. “And exactly what kind of vibe is that?”
I had the feeling he had some secret knowledge of me he was going to suddenly reveal and that made me nervous. As far as I knew, I’d been nothing but a 21st century assertive female since landing in Rio Marinas. But maybe Lawton Brady had seen something different. That knowing twinkle in his eye? I could hardly dismiss that. Was this just the man’s game? The way he seduced women? Or was he as straightforward as he tried to appear?
My mystified grin seemed to amuse him more.
“What kind of vibe? I think the one that makes you out to be self-contained and confident, while there’s really a quaking child shivering inside your bones.”
“Really?”
“You disagree?”
“I don’t know. Right now you have me very flustered, and I don’t like it. This is not exactly where I expected our date to lead.”
“I don’t imagine it is. But one thing you need to know about me – when I set my sights on a woman, there’s nothing casual about my intentions. I look for a particular kind of female and when I see the qualities I want, I’m moved to act. Like I was with you. Six months and lots of study have gone into this project.”
“Now I’m a project!” I was aghast.
“Of sorts.”
“And you make no apologies for that fact?”
“Why should I?”
“You are one ballsy male.”
“I would expect any male worth a plug nickel to be ballsy, if they aren’t, they aren’t much of a man.”
This was not the Lawton Brady I’d known from Miss Bessie’s Diner, that cool, content and congenial male who was easy with the causal conversation. There was certainly nothing casual about this conversation.
“Geez…”
He simply smiled.
“I’m a project?” I couldn’t get that idea out of my head.
My face seemed to twist into an almost painful grimace of uncertainty. “So, exactly what are these magical qualities that make me pass your rigid tests?”
He sat back, the smile gone, his eyebrows raised and a sincerity about him that made me feel even more uneasy.
“Vulnerability. Submissiveness. A need to please and comply.”
“You get that from me? Really?”
“Yes, I do. For some it may be hard to see, but I read between the lines, Samantha. Between the way you come on with your practiced assertiveness and no nonsense persona, and the woman I think you really are – who seems to nervously be clinging to life looking for approval, if not from other people, which is probably true too, but herself.”
“You think that? I drive out here from Florida and land in a small town as an unknown, and you think I’m clinging to life?”
“Is that too ballsy to believe?”
“I think that’s stretching things a bit, yes.”
“And I think at night after work, you often go back to Miss Inez’ and collapse on your bed in a heap of frightened tears. Even this sleepy little town and Miss Bessie’s Diner get to be too much for you. Sometimes you’d like to curl up and hide, safe from the rest of the world.”
The words seemed to turn on me in a dangerous way and I didn’t know how to answer. The fact that he had certain private facts about my life pinned down so precisely was definitely disturbing.
“So, what are you? A Peeping Tom looking in my window late at night?” I wanted to sound convincing but there was this huge knot in my throat.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Well, yes, sometimes that’s me. I’m alone and it gets a little scary. But you know, I’m not sure this is something I want to discuss. Besides, while I may be what you’re looking for in a woman…I may even ‘suit’ you, I’m not sure if you suit me.”
“No?” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “I’m rarely wrong. But I’m certainly not infallible. Still. The night’s not over. I wouldn’t make any final judgments until we say goodnight.”
That was all he said about the matter. We went on to discuss other less sensitive subjects, then there was the walk on the beach. He didn’t even ask me, we just ended up kicking off our shoes and feeling the sand squish between our toes. His arm went around my waist and with the closeness of his warm body, I could feel a wave of unwanted desire rise up in me despite my determination to fend off any advance he planned to make.
Far down the beach in a quiet alcove north of the town, where only moonlight penetrated the darkness, we moved up to a span of rocks where I sat on one that put me at Lawton’s waist height. I could sense what would happen from there and I wasn’t wrong. Nor by then was I resisting. Whatever fuming snit I’d been in minute
s before seemed to have passed and the man’s authoritative energy had gathered me to him so that I could not refuse his advance. The needy first kiss went down with such tender force that when I pulled back I realized that I hadn’t taken in a breath of air.
“My god!” The quiet gasp was followed by another kiss, Lawton’s arms around me, his one hand messing up my hair, his other unbuttoning my blouse. He worked his way underneath my bra, capturing a nipple which he tenderly squeezed. “Oh, dear god!” again my exclamation, while Lawton was silent in his conquering of my body. Strangely content to let his hands speak, I found my resistance dropping away. My pent-up lust raged free and, suddenly, I couldn’t get out of my clothes fast enough—although he deliberately slowed me down.
“You know, for a woman who’s just said that I don’t suit her, you’re awfully eager,” he pointed out.
“I’m easily led,” was my only excuse. Which I was and had always been, why my troubles with Ryder began in the first place, how I ended up bedding Tom Quinn for that unforgettable night in my apartment, and why I was now in the arms of yet another older and strong-willed man, doing everything he desired without an ounce of resistance. Lawton had my character nailed down at the start, and considering the way I responded to his seduction, I’d given him no reason to change his mind about me. I was a pretty easy conquest, if you could call it a conquest at all.
I finally came up for air, gasping, “Please don’t say, I told you so.” By then we were already grappling nearly naked in the hard-packed sand. Thankfully, Lawton didn’t appear to be thinking about having triumphed over my previous hesitation.
I lay back with my legs spread wide, and Lawton Brady’s muscular body bearing down on me. He had both my hands captured in his fists and pinned to the beach, while his erection drove as deeply as my body would allow. I could tell from the way that my pussy began to spasm within seconds of him spearing the aroused love nest that I’d been too long without a man. And this one was formidable. He embodied all the best in conquering determination that Ryder was, without the disturbing unrest that so characterized the other side of my former fiancé’s personality.
Nightmare of Vengeance Page 8