by Linda Broday
Good question. Likely nothing, but still!
“Let me decide for myself. Don’t shelter me, tell me what to think, or how to feel.”
“Believe me. From now on, I won’t.” He picked up the bridle from where it’d dropped and flung it over a stall rail.
Guilt rose at his anger. They had to find some way to coexist peacefully without these spats. She hated arguing, and it should have no place in their marriage—only love. Whatever elusive thing that might be.
What else was he not telling her? Did it have anything to do with the woman in the tintype that he kept near his bed? If only she had the courage to ask.
Maybe it was better not to know.
She went to the barn door and looked out at the growing shadows, dark and broad enough to hide a man intent on killing them. Her rigid shoulders and back relaxed, anger gone.
An arm slid around her waist, and she swiveled to meet Ridge’s whiskey-colored gaze. “I’m sorry, my love. I should’ve warned you to be on your guard. Old habits die hard, but I’m trying. Don’t give up on me.”
She tenderly laid a hand against his stubble and nodded. The scent of leather blended with an abundance of sage, alive in the night mist, bringing hope and joy. She was home. This was her land, and she’d fight to the last breath to keep it.
A noise drew her attention, and Bodie limped from the darkness, a rifle on his shoulder. He’d made himself scarce during their argument, forgetting his crutch, and shame filled Addie. She owed the kid better than bickering. He had nowhere else to go except to people who didn’t want him. She didn’t want to make his life more miserable.
“Anything out there?” Ridge asked.
“Nope. All’s quiet.”
“How far did you go?”
“To the big stand of mesquites.” The kid propped the rifle next to the barn door.
That thicket was the best place for someone to hide near the house. Since no one was there, it meant they were safe. At least for now. Addie relaxed and shooed them toward the windmill to wash. Their argument forgotten, she ran into the kitchen and started dishing everything up and setting the table.
Her men were hungry, and she couldn’t wait until bedtime to get her kiss and feel Ridge holding her, his heart beating next to hers—such a small thing, that had come to mean so much.
* * *
With supper over, Ridge and Bodie made another turn around the property while Addie sewed in the parlor. The cats played chase, jumping first into her lap, then out. She stomped her foot and shook her finger, and they settled down.
The back door opened, and Ridge strolled in, carrying some books and a slate. “I went by the school today, and Denver loaned me these.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m too dumb to learn.” Bodie scooped up the kitten and scratched it behind the ears, worry on his face and lining his voice.
“Is that wishful thinking, son?”
“I just want to make you proud is all.” His voice lowered as though he was too timid to say the words. “No one ’cept my folks ever said they were proud of me.”
Addie’s heart stilled, and tears hung in her throat. She watched the interaction between the man and boy, saw their deep respect for each other. More importantly, heard what they didn’t put into words.
“Stop right there.” Ridge softened his voice, squeezing the kid’s shoulder. “We don’t have to open these books for me to tell you that I’m very proud of you. Some folks have book learning, and some have horse sense—which you have in spades. You know what needs doing, and you see to it without someone telling you when or how. That’s worth a whole bunch, and it’s something no one can teach. So, whatever you’re thinking, you can quit.”
Bodie eased into a chair. “I guess.”
“I’m not blowing smoke. I mean it.” Ridge pulled a chair next to the kid, and the lessons began.
Addie watched them, proud of both. Ridge never lost patience with Bodie’s mistakes, slowly repeating the alphabet until Bodie caught on. She wasn’t sure who was teaching whom.
Finally, Ridge closed the book, and Bodie moved to the floor. “My turn, Addie. I need help with multiplication and division.”
She scooted beside him and taught him some of the harder math problems, their hands brushing and her awareness of him building. “I think you used this as an excuse to sit beside the teacher,” she scolded on paper.
“Me? That’s a bold accusation, Mrs. Steele. But entirely true.” He nibbled behind her ear.
“I’ll have to keep you after school.”
“Please do. I have an idea how to pass the time.” His wide grin showed his white teeth.
After a little more serious study, they quit. He was a quick learner.
He handed Bodie the slate. “If you find time tomorrow, you can work on the alphabet by yourself.” He stood and stretched, his gaze finding Addie. Her heart leaped. “Been a long day. I’m teaching you to shoot tomorrow, Addie. I want you to be able to defend yourself in case Bodie and I aren’t around.”
She nodded, happy that he’d listened to her.
“I’m going to bed.” Bodie got to his feet. “Good night.”
Addie set her sewing aside and went to give him a hug. He blushed when she kissed his cheek.
“Good night, son.” Ridge went to check that the front door was locked, then did the same to the kitchen door behind Bodie. She liked this simple routine of securing the house and how safe it made her feel.
Ridge returned. “Before we go to bed, I want to tell you about my afternoon. No more keeping things from you. And while I talk, you can change my bandage.”
Addie gathered the water, ointment, and bandages, happy that he was relenting and letting her doctor him. He removed his shirt, and she stared at the sinew of his broad chest and back. This husband of hers was strong and made her proud to be his wife. She loved how the lamplight softened the lines of his face and took the darkness from his eyes. His skin was warm under her hands, and if her father were here, he’d scream that she was sinning.
No matter. She jutted her chin. She had the right to her thoughts, and Ridge was her husband—even if it was in name only so far. She pushed the thought out of her head and went to work, enjoying this small wifely duty.
For the next half hour, Ridge spoke about his search and the gunfight. Addie realized how close he’d come to dying, and her blood froze. If the man had mortally wounded Ridge that far from home, he could’ve died before anyone found him. If he was ever found. She’d never have known what happened to him. What would she have done? How would she have managed alone?
She wanted to yell at him for taking such a chance, but she’d only have wasted her breath. Her outlaw husband already knew the high stakes. He lived with them each day.
New bandage in place, he put his shirt back on. Seated on the sofa next to him, her hand in his, she was caught again by the slight curl at the end of his long hair, and the thick muscles in his neck. There was more to Ridge Steele than a gun. So much more. Her stomach flipped upside down, their good-night kiss on her mind.
As though reading her thoughts, Ridge stood and pulled her up, folding his arms around her. “Now, it’s time for us.”
His amber eyes held desire as he slowly lowered his head to meet her. Addie held her breath, her heart beating faster, and closed her eyes. Their lips brushed, and heat rushed from her belly, a shooting star leaving a blazing trail.
Their breath mingled, and she took him inside her with each inhaled flutter. He teased and nibbled his way across the seam of her lips, and just when she thought she’d die from want, he pressed his mouth firmly to hers as though sealing them together with the strongest solder.
Emboldened, she slid an arm around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. Hunger for something more, something deeper, curled along her spine and up her back. Ridge, her heart silently cr
ied out, teach me, give me what I’m begging for.
A strange sensation came over her, and she felt as though she were falling from a great height. She clutched his shirt, wondering at the wetness that formed at her center.
He suddenly released her and stepped back, his expression as dazed as she felt. “I should go check outside one more time. Good night, Addie.”
Her gaze followed his tall figure, aching for his arms around her. If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never forget this moment and how alive he made her feel.
She went to her space and got out her notebook and pencil.
I think I’m in love. If Ridge had undressed me down to the bare skin tonight, I wouldn’t have minded or said a word. In truth, I wanted him to. I wanted to feel his hands touching me. Everywhere. I wanted…him. All of him. I want to lie next to him and feel his strong body. I thought this space here under the stairs was what I wanted, but it isn’t. Not anymore. Only now I’ve created a situation by sleeping apart and can’t figure a way out. What can I do?
She wanted normal…
A life.
A love.
A real marriage.
Was it really as simple as being brave enough to take it?
Thirteen
After breakfast the next morning, Ridge saddled the horses and tied them outside the kitchen door, then waited for Addie to change into riding clothes. His mind wasn’t on shooting lessons. Not at all.
He sipped on a fresh cup of coffee, deep in thought about the kiss they’d shared the previous night. It had taken all his willpower not to carry her upstairs to bed, but that would’ve scared her out of six months of her life. She probably would’ve locked herself in her space beneath the stairs and never come out again.
Truth of the matter, the kiss had seared its way through him and rendered him unable to think clearly. And in a little while, he’d be inhaling the rose fragrance of her soap, touching her to adjust her aim, remembering the taste of her very kissable mouth.
“Patience, you fool,” he muttered into his cup. Luke and Clay had warned him to take it slow, not to let his own needs override his common sense, but dammit! He had no common sense when Addie was anywhere near. If he didn’t watch it at target practice, he’d probably shoot his damn foot off.
Light footsteps jarred him from his thoughts. He glanced up and swallowed a big gulp of hot coffee, scalding his mouth.
Every line, every curve of Addie’s body was in plain view, outlined by the trousers they’d bought at the mercantile and a shirt that hugged her breasts. To further complicate matters, her hair was loose. The golden curls fell about her shoulders and spilled down the front, calling even more attention to her luscious bosom. Good Lord! How was he supposed to keep from losing his ever-loving mind? And that wasn’t even considering the heat rushing to his core, a flare that had every nerve in his body standing at attention—especially the part that he didn’t want her to notice.
Ridge slipped into his frock coat and buttoned it as though preparing for a blizzard. He smiled. “Ready?”
She glanced at his coat and frowned before giving him a nod and moving out the door. King whinnied and pawed the ground, seemingly happy to see her. She rushed to hug him and ran her hands over his sleek neck, looking for all the world like she was saying good morning. Ridge cleared his throat, not regretting for a second that he’d given her the buckskin but envying the horse the feel of her touch.
He pulled himself away from the sight and turned to adjust Cob’s cinches.
Bodie hobbled from the barn, the kitten tumbling after him. “I’ll hold down the fort, Ridge, and get to work on those repairs.”
“We won’t be gone too long.” Ridge’s spurs clinked as he moved to help Addie. Though she was gamely trying to propel her short frame onto King, she just couldn’t make it by herself. He placed his hands on her shapely backside, intending only to help her up. Her flesh was firm under the denim, tight under his palms.
She glanced around with a frown, and he realized he was taking too much time savoring the feel. Hell! Heat flooded his face, and he tried to look anywhere but at that part of her…but found it impossible. Finally, he gave her a little shove, and after quite a bit of wiggling, she settled herself on King’s back. With great effort to appear casual, he sauntered to his horse.
They rode out to the stand of mesquites that Ridge planned to remove in the near future to make room for his peach trees. The house looked small in the distance, framed by the blue sky overhead and the soft brown earth beneath. A slight breeze ruffled tendrils of Addie’s hair that shone like gold dust and framed her face.
It took all he had to look away. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose her, or he’d shrivel and die.
Tying their horses where they could nibble on the grass, Ridge set up some cans on a dead mesquite. Addie watched it all in silence, biting her bottom lip. She seemed nervous. Understandable. Failure did things to a person’s self-esteem, and hers was still fragile. His job—if possible—was to see that she did good. Acting nonchalant, he walked back to her, trying his best to watch for trouble.
He drew a line in the dirt with his bootheel. “Okay, come over here and stand behind this line.” When she did, he pulled one of his Colts from its holster. “First, you have to get used to the weight. A gun isn’t as light as you might think.”
She took the heavy weapon, and her arm dropped. His voice was gentle. “To start with, why don’t you use both hands to hold it steady?”
At least she could raise it level. He moved behind her and held her gun arm out in front of her, his hand curling around hers, pressing so close that daylight couldn’t shine between his chest and her back. Bad, bad idea. The breeze laid some strands of gold across his nose. Then came the light scent of wild roses, the brush of her body against his—the pressure of her tight butt rubbing against him that sent heat crawling from his belly.
Hell, he was roasting alive in the damn wool coat! His breathing ragged, he stepped away, turning his back to collect himself.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow and easy. He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to think of planting turnips. Yes, that was something safe. Turn the fallow ground over, place the seeds in the freshly turned row, then cover them with soil.
Several long minutes passed before he swung around. She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. She wouldn’t be wrong. As bad as he hated to, he disposed of the coat, draping it across his horse. He drew a long breath of air and took his chances. A minute passed before Ridge resumed his place behind her. “Look down the barrel and line the tip up with one of the cans.”
Ignore her softness and her scent curling around you. Pay no attention to her tight behind. Dammit, this is business! His voice came out raspy. “When you have them lined up, pull the trigger very gently. Don’t jerk it. Just smooth and easy.”
She followed his instructions to the letter. The bullet splintered the fallen tree, missing the cans.
“That’s all right. It was close. Actually, that was very good. If that had been a man, you’d have hit his chest. Good job.”
Addie whirled, grinning. Her lips were right there—plump and moist. So close. So perfectly shaped. So enticing. There was only so much a man could take. Awareness sizzled between them like ten thousand lightning strikes, and he had no damn sense.
Ridge put an arm around his tempting wife and claimed her as he had the previous night. Addie leaned into him, the Colt she still clutched crushed against his belly. He deepened the kiss, and she didn’t pull away. The only thing he felt was her in his arms, her body fitting into every inch of his as though God had created her just for him. The kiss carried him to a place he’d never been—where everything was perfect and right and there was no need for guns. Where he wasn’t a wanted man. And neither of them had to hide.
Deepening the kiss, he explored the soft lines of her back, waist, and
hips. And when she slid an arm around his neck, he knew she welcomed his caresses.
Finally, he let her go—and that’s when he saw her tears.
“What’s wrong, Addie? Did I hurt you?” He didn’t think he’d held her that tightly.
She shook her head.
“Are you sad?”
Her nod indicated yes.
“What are you sad about, my love?”
She pointed to her mouth.
“Because you can’t speak?”
She nodded, and more silent tears fell.
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “I’m sure there are things you want to say, and that must really frustrate you, but this isn’t forever. You’re making great progress. It’s just going to take patience.” She rested her head on his chest, and he rubbed her back. She had to be so tired of having things she couldn’t voice. “We’re going to get through this. You and me—together.”
Several long moments passed, then Addie stepped back, angrily dashed away her tears, and resumed target practice, all business.
He shot her an admiring glance. “Good. I think you’re a natural, but I don’t understand why you shot so erratic when we had the fight with the bounty hunters.”
Her smile wasn’t all that wide, but she was trying. Addie motioned to the horses and made tracks down her face like tears.
Of course. “You were afraid you’d hit the horses.”
Her eyes bright, she nodded and raised the Colt. Ridge stepped behind to hold her arm steady, and this time she hit the can. By the time they quit for the day, she’d hit the target fifty percent of the time, which was darn good in his opinion. Especially since the misses weren’t that far off.
Relief swept over him. If the bounty hunter dared show his face, Addie would be ready.
* * *
Over the next few days, Addie sewed bunting and made enough streamers for the dance to decorate the entire town. Ridge complained of the fabric lying about everywhere, said he felt like he was living in a dance hall.