by Kim Redford
Useful was more than enough for him. Comfy was icing on the cake. Belle was the cherry on top.
He wrapped her smooth body in his arms, feeling her hands slide up and down his shoulders as if memorizing him or cherishing him or something that felt so sensual it practically put him over the top without any need for more…and he intended for there to be much more this night.
He reluctantly left her lips to trail kisses down her throat, between her breasts, across her navel to reach the triangle between her legs where he lingered, basking in the scent that was hers alone. He followed his mouth with his hands, learning every peak and valley, every sensuous curve, every little sensitive spot that made her squirm and dig her fingers into his hair, arching up against him. She was every delight he could ever imagine.
But setting her on fire was setting him on fire. He didn’t know how much longer he could last without being inside her.
“Rowdy,” she whispered, voice gone hoarse. “I can’t wait. Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”
“I want this to be good for you.”
“Trust me. It already is very, very good.”
He cringed at the word “trust” because it was the last thing he wanted on his mind right now. He wanted nothing but the two of them together without anything in the outside world impinging on them.
“Rowdy?”
He spread her legs with both hands, rubbing up and down the inside of her thighs, feeling the roughness and sensitivity of his palms against the smoothness of her velvety skin.
“Yes,” she said on a soft hiss of air.
And he couldn’t wait a moment longer. He lifted her legs, placed them over his shoulders, and nestled between her thighs, slowly, gently, carefully pushing into her hot, wet, tight center. She rewarded him with another moan and clutched him inside, outside until he joined her moan with a groan of his own while plunging harder and faster and deeper, riding the wave with her, seeking the ultimate oneness with her…until finally they reached their peak together and rode the crest outward, upward, inward to complete their circle of love.
In the aftermath, he rolled to his side and gently tucked her head against his chest so he could keep her near his heart.
“I’ll never let you go.” As soon as he said it, he knew the words would never do, not in this day and age. And yet he meant them.
“Did I say I wanted to go?” She rose up on one elbow and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re home now. Neither of us is going anywhere.”
And he felt a satisfied smile curl his lips.
Chapter 22
A week later, Belle felt caught between heaven and hell. On one hand, Rowdy gave her everything she could dream of in a romance, but on the other hand, she was frustrated and discouraged at the lack of progress on her house. He did fine work…when he did it, but he frequently couldn’t spare the time. She’d begun to rethink bringing in a team from Dallas, but she knew if she did it wouldn’t go over well in the county and it could cause her more harm than good in the long run.
She stood in front of her house with both hands on her hips, looking upward. The new paint was wonderful because it added colorful sass to the house. She was also glad to have cameras and lights in front and back and on the nearby barn, so she felt more secure. Rowdy had done all that and done a good job. Only the shingle stacks were left as an eyesore on the front lawn. And yet she had to be grateful they were still there. Fortunately, the thieves hadn’t returned, but they hadn’t been caught either.
She’d hoped to have a patio installed in back outside the long row of windows in time for her party, but she’d begun to think she might simply have to go with the short grass. All in all, maybe the party wasn’t even a good idea. She didn’t have to do it. She hadn’t sent out invitations. She might already be too late because people made holiday plans well in advance.
As she walked around the side of the house, she decided she’d been too distracted to make the best decisions in life. She had her regular business to maintain that required so much of her. She’d added her love affair with Rowdy. And she was trying to turn Lulabelle & You Ranch into something for everyone.
Maybe she’d taken on too much by coming here. Maybe she should go back to the city. Maybe…but how could she leave Rowdy or Homer or the Buick Brigade? Daisy Sue was still missing, but Kemp was good about calling in to update her. He seemed to be on a wild goose chase, picking up his cousin’s trail from one rodeo to one friend to one honky-tonk. Surely he’d catch up with Lester soon. And that brought her to Storm Steele. She’d like to mentor the huge potential in that little girl if allowed to do so by Storm or her family.
She stopped beside the table and chairs in back. When had she become so involved with the folks of Wildcat Bluff County? By comparison, she suspected big cities might start to seem tame—maybe even on the boring side—after living here. How could she give up finding out how everything turned out? And even if not for all of that, how could she walk away from Rowdy and all he was coming to mean to her?
She plopped down in a chair, put her elbows on the tabletop, and dropped her face into the palms of her hands. Life in this county was not the straightforward path she’d intended when she’d moved here, but it was certainly interesting on so many levels. Not the least of which was Rowdy. Just the thought of him made her turn hot with a need that only he could meet. She’d never intended to get involved with a guy. She had no idea where their relationship was going. Still, she had no intention of turning back at this point. She was enjoying him way too much to alter course.
She needed to get her mind back on business, but it wasn’t easy with so much else going on. At least she could think about something positive like bandanas. Storm had been exactly right. She’d thrown “101 Uses for a Bandana” out on social media and in her newsletter, and she’d gotten back lots of excited responses with creative uses. Readers were still having fun with suggestions. Not that she would ever mention it, but nobody could possibly match the thieves’ fiery use…and she didn’t want to go there again.
She had to admit that life in Wildcat Bluff County was good if challenging on several fronts, so she really shouldn’t complain if work was slow going her on her house, even though it still left her in limbo for the Christmas party. She had to make a decision about how to handle it soon or miss any chance of it coming together for promotional use.
As she sat there, she pushed her fingers back into her hair as she contemplated her next move and heard the whirl of wings overhead. She glanced up in time to see Homer land in front of her on top of the table. He walked over, claws clicking against metal, and stopped in front of her. Oddly enough, he had a capsule attached to his leg.
“Homer?” she asked, wondering how he’d gone to Destiny, picked up a note, and returned to her. But no, that’s not the way they’d told her it worked for homing pigeons. Once home, they stayed home.
This pigeon cocked his head to one side, looking at her with a round eye before turning his head to look at her with the other eye.
“Maybe you’re not Homer.” She smiled at the idea that the Buick Brigade might have sent her another pigeon-gram. That’d certainly add fun to the day.
She slowly put out her hand to see how he would react to her. Like Homer, he remained calm as if used to being with people. She reached for the capsule and felt the warm softness of breast feathers as she carefully slid a small, rolled piece of paper out of the capsule.
“Thank you.”
The pigeon gave a soft, fluttery coo, ruffled his feathers, and launched into the air. He flew straight to the barn and disappeared inside.
She guessed Homer now had a companion and that would make him happy. Fortunately, there was plenty of room in the loft for other pigeons. She turned her mind back to the matter at hand. She unrolled the piece of paper, stretched it out flat on top of the table, and held it open with a fingertip on each end. She
read the first line. “Pigeon-Gram.” Okay…here we go again.
She read out loud. “Now is the time to visit the famous bull. Rowdy will escort you. Aristotle is home.”
She’d put off going to Steele Trap Ranch to see Fernando, mainly because she’d been hoping to take Daisy Sue with her when she set foot over there. It didn’t look like that was going to happen just yet, so she supposed there was no real reason to wait until the cow’s return. But why would the Buick Brigade think it was important to go now…if by now, they meant that very afternoon?
She let the note roll up on its own and then tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. Tomorrow or the next day would serve just as well. Right now, she needed to get her thoughts in order…particularly about the party.
But she didn’t give it much thought because she heard Rowdy’s pickup pull up out front. She’d thought he was gone for the afternoon, but here he was back again. She supposed she’d better tell him about the pigeon-gram, although he probably didn’t have time to escort her to see Fernando. She turned in her chair to watch for him.
Soon he rounded the corner and gave her a big grin and then a bigger kiss when he stopped by her side.
“What brings you back?”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” He plopped down in the chair across from her.
“I’m always glad.” And she definitely enjoyed the eye candy as well as the other side benefits. “I just didn’t expect to see you till evening.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I got a call.”
She noticed then that he was better dressed than his usual attire. He looked more like he had when they’d gone to Wildcat Hall. He just had on shirt, jeans, and boots, but they were excellent quality. Maybe he just usually wore work clothes that might have smears of paint or caulk.
“Not interested in my call?”
“Of course I am, but first I think you’ll be interested that I received another pigeon-gram.”
He smiled, chuckling under his breath. “And the pigeon’s name is—”
“Aristotle.”
He grinned even bigger. “Fine pigeon.”
“And friends with Homer?”
“Siblings.”
“Good. He flew off to the barn.”
“Homer will be happier now.” He leaned toward her. “What did the note say?”
She pulled it out of her pocket and read, “Now is the time to visit the famous bull. Rowdy will escort you. Aristotle is home.”
Rowdy nodded, leaning back in his chair. “That’s about the same as my call from Blondel…except for the Aristotle part.”
“Do they actually expect us to drop everything and go right over there?”
“Pretty much. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to folks around these parts, but I do have a business to run.”
“It’s all about priorities.”
“Right. Theirs. Not mine.”
“Sometimes priorities dovetail.”
“I can’t imagine how that can be the case here.”
“Nobody can…not until the Buick Brigade reveal their last card.”
“So, I’m to assume this somehow helps me.”
“And others.”
“Okay.” She stood up. “I’m not going to fight this pigeon stuff. Let me grab my jean jacket and purse.”
“I’ll wait for you in the truck.”
“Shouldn’t I call Steele Trap first?”
“No point. Somehow, I do believe they’ll be expecting us.”
“Buick Brigade, I take it.”
“Yeah.”
She went into the house and slipped her jacket over her green sweater and blue jeans before she grabbed her phone and tucked it in her purse. She locked the back door before she hurried into the kitchen. She rummaged through her purse, selected a tangerine lipstick since the color would go well with green, applied it, and was good to go.
She stepped outside, locked the front door, checked it twice to make sure it couldn’t be opened while she was away, and then walked over to Rowdy’s rusty pickup with the passenger door wide open. She stepped up and sat down, setting her purse on the floor by her feet.
“One thing.”
“Yeah?” She glanced over at him, wishing they could be alone instead of heading out. She’d bought a little something at Morning’s Glory that she wanted to try with him…but it would have to wait for another day or, better yet, evening.
“You’ll need to be extra sensitive with Fernando.”
“How so?”
“He’s been down in the dumps ever since Daisy Sue went missing.”
“I won’t even mention her name unless it comes up.”
“That’s wise, but it’s still bound to come up for discussion.”
“I’ll let Storm lead the way.”
“Good.” He put the pickup in gear and headed out.
Once they were on Wildcat Road, they didn’t have far to go since she shared a property line with the other ranch. Pretty quickly he turned off and drove under a sign of black metal with a cutout that read STEELE TRAP RANCH. A clear blue sky shone through the open letters, and a red-suited, white-bearded Santa Claus perched on one corner slowly waving at passersby with his battery-operated, animated arm. She smiled at the sight and waved back.
Rowdy followed a winding lane upward to a hill that overlooked the Red River. At the top where the road split, he stopped his truck. On the left rose a big, new metal barn, an older wooden barn, several corrals, an open-sided shop, and a multi-vehicle garage.
“It’s pretty here,” Belle said.
“Let’s take a look around. The Steeles won’t mind, particularly since you’re neighbors. They’ve added a couple of houses over the years as their family grew bigger.”
He turned and slowly drove past a redbrick ranch house with a red metal roof that had brick arches enclosing a shady portico with cedar chairs. For Christmas, they’d outlined the arches with long ropes of red and green lights to match the bright wreaths in every window. They’d also positioned a multipiece, hand-carved, hand-painted wooden Nativity scene under the spreading limbs of a green live oak.
“What a comfortable, cozy-looking home,” Belle said in appreciation.
“Next is the original farmhouse. Bet you’ll like it even better.”
“Oh, I do.”
She loved the wide front porch with a hanging swing that set off the farmhouse painted white with aqua trim and a high-peaked, gray-shingled roof. A large crimson-and-gold Christmas wreath added a dash of holiday color to the natural-wood entry door.
“Slade built that last house when he came back from the rodeo circuit. It’s modular, so it doesn’t quite fit with the other buildings, but it was quick and easy.”
“Nice, too.”
He turned around in front of the structure with lots of glass windows and doors, wood-looking siding, and all the modern conveniences plunked down on the edge of an old pecan grove. A hand-painted wooden cutout of Santa in his sleigh pulled by five prancing wildcats dominated the lawn.
“We’d best get on up to the barn. Storm will want to see you right away, if I’m any judge of character.”
“I bet. It’ll be good to see her again, too.”
He followed the road back to the split and drove up to the barns. He stopped his pickup near several people who were congregated near the corrals. He opened his door, glanced over at Belle, and gave her a thumbs-up.
She took a deep breath, ready for whatever would come next, pushed open her door, and stepped down to the ground.
A pint-size ball of energy with wild ginger hair and big hazel eyes wearing boots, jeans, and a T-shirt with “Fernando the Wonder Bull” emblazoned on it in rhinestones hurtled toward them.
Storm stopped in a cloud of dust and pointed toward a corral where
a big, black bull watched them. “Hurry! Fernando is waiting for you.”
Chapter 23
Belle straightened her back and put a smile on her face. She felt as if she were about to be introduced to the king or CEO of Steele Trap Ranch. She needed to put her best foot forward…and then she remembered Fernando was a bull, maybe a famous one but still an ordinary—or perhaps not so ordinary—black Angus bull. And Daisy Sue was a cow of the same breed.
She didn’t know when it had gotten so confused, but it was well before her time here. She simply needed to make sure nothing got out of hand now that she was on the case, so to speak, because it had all, somehow or other, become entwined with Lulabelle & You Ranch…and that meant her business.
A group of people clustered in front of the corral attached to a barn made of red metal with a shiny, silver roof. She recognized the Wildcat Hall Park owners, Fern Bryant with Craig Thorne, each holding an acoustic guitar. Sydney Steele stood beside them, looking like a grown-up version of her daughter. Beside them, leaning an elbow on the top rung of the corral, was a leathery-skinned, bowlegged cowboy who appeared a little frayed around the edges but with bred-in-the-bone toughness. Every one of the group wore traditional ranch clothes of cowboy shirts, jeans, boots, and hats in various colors. An Aussie cow dog, wearing a red bandana around his neck, prowled back and forth in front of the folks.
Belle couldn’t help but think that she ought to add “Dog Western Wear” to her list of “101 Uses for a Bandana.” It’d be popular with dog lovers everywhere. Bandanas would look good on cats, too, particularly a large one like a Maine Coon, if it could be persuaded to tolerate one. But that was for later. She needed to stay focused on her current situation.
She looked at Rowdy. He looked at her. Maybe there was something in her expression or the situation, but he placed his hand over his flat stomach and extended his elbow to her like a knight of old times would do to support his lady. She hesitated as she stood there with everyone watching her because Rowdy’s action made the introduction appear even more formal, as if a lady from a neighboring estate had arrived with her entourage to greet the reigning monarch.