Finally Forever, page 2
No wonder Dylan hadn’t bothered to spare me so much as a glance. Just because I had a secret fantasy about a cowboy sweeping me up on the back of his horse and riding me out to a meadow to make passionate love to me didn’t mean I was the subject of any similar fantasies.
It wasn’t until I noticed all eyes watching me that I realized I must have sighed out loud.
“You okay?” Brittany asked from the base of the staircase. “That was a pretty big sigh. If you don’t want to share a room with me, just say so.”
She was teasing, but still, I instantly felt awful.
“No,” I said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just…”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Darla’s face twisted into a frown. “Your energy is…” She waved her hands over me. “Totally off, Sandy. I feel like you’re not telling us something.”
That was an understatement. There was a lot I hadn’t told my friends lately. Including a very big secret that was starting to weigh on me. I’d been hoping to wait until after our week together, but maybe my stress was starting to show more than I realized.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Abby, concern lining her face as well, took my hand and squeezed. “I’ve felt it, too, Sandy. What’s going on?”
I took another deep breath and dropped my shoulders. There was no point keeping it in any longer. “I think we should have a drink first.”
The girls sprang into action, bags and unpacking forgotten for the moment as bottles were opened and drinks were poured. Moments later, we all had our favorite beverages in hand: a martini for Abby, white wine for Jessie, whiskey for Darla, and soda water with a splash of vodka for Britt who didn’t drink very often.
Jessie passed me a mug of coffee with the shot of Irish cream I usually preferred, but I hesitated. My usual drink was boring and beige. Just like me. Maybe it was time for a change. “Can I have something different?”
“Of course.” Jessie immediately withdrew the mug. “What do you feel like?”
I wanted a change, but maybe nothing too dramatic. At least not to start. “How about just a glass of wine?”
Jessie didn’t hesitate to hand me her glass and went in search of another. I sipped at the cool liquid.
“So,” she said as soon as she returned to the porch where we’d gathered. “What’s going on?”
We were the type of friends who told each other everything. Always. It had been that way since we were kids, because we were more family than friends. And this should be no different, especially because they could tell that something was off with me. Not that it was hard; I was never any good at hiding my feelings.
Still. I hesitated. If I told them what I’d been keeping from them—which was that in less than a month, I would be taking my girls from the only home they’d ever known and moving them across the country—it would change the whole feel of the girls’ week. And I needed this week with my friends. What I didn’t need was my best friends trying to convince me that going with my mother-in-law, Janice, who’d been my biggest source of support since Greg died, was a terrible idea.
Because the truth was, I wasn’t totally convinced that it was a terrible idea.
Last week, when Janice sat me down at the table and told me that she was struggling to stay in Aspen Valley with so many memories of her son and the past and that she’d made the decision to move to the East Coast, I was devastated. The girls adored their grandmother. I adored her. I needed her. I couldn’t raise the girls on my own. And I wouldn’t have to if I followed her out East the way she wanted me to.
But then…
I looked around at my friend’s faces. Each of them looked worried and concerned because they cared about me. They were family, too. I definitely couldn’t tell them my news now. There was no way I was going to ruin this week with a black cloud hanging over it.
But I had to tell them something.
I took a breath and slowly exhaled before telling them the truth. A different truth. “I’m in a rut.” The words rushed out of me. “Ever since Greg died, I feel like I’m losing a little bit more of myself every day and watching all of you take chances and…well, frankly, bloom after all these years, I’m feeling…” I dropped my head for a moment. “Like something needs to change,” I said when I looked up. “Something big. Because if it doesn’t, I’m not sure who I’ll become.”
I finished and looked around at my friends, who were all silent. Only the chirping of birds in the trees next to the cabin filled the air.
Brittany spoke first. She reached across the distance and put her hand over mine. “Are you okay, Sandy?”
“It kind of sounds like you need…” Jessie trailed off but Abby picked up the thread.
“Need a shake-up,” she said. “Like maybe…”
“Yes!” Darla jumped in. “I mean…I think I know what you’re going to say and if it’s what I think it is, that’s exactly what she needs.”
I looked at each of them in turn, settling finally on Brittany, whose smile was the biggest.
She was practically bouncing in her seat. “She needs to go for it.”
The pact.
Over the last few months, I’d watched as my friends had one by one taken part in the pact that encouraged them to let loose the way they would have in their twenties and go after the fun that had been missing from all our lives for too long. It had resulted in deliciously hot sex for everyone, followed by the types of relationships we’d all dreamed of as little girls, with amazing men. All except Darla—who didn’t see the point for her considering she’d never stopped having fun, especially where men were concerned—and myself. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious and more than a little curious about following in my friends’ footsteps.
Still…I wasn’t sure I had the guts.
Dylan’s chiseled face flashed in my mind.
Dylan.
What would it be like to go for it with a sexy cowboy hero who no doubt knew exactly how to shake things up for me?
In an effort to hide the blush on my face, I focused on the glass of wine in my hands. It was only sauvignon blanc, far from wild. But for me, it might as well have been a shot of Fireball with a whiskey chaser, it was so different from my normal. And maybe that was the point. Maybe I should, even for only one week, try something exactly opposite of what I would normally do. It sure couldn’t hurt. And hell, it might actually break me out of the funk I was in.
Never mind the idea of finally getting laid. It had been so long, I wasn’t entirely sure I remembered how it all worked anymore.
“Darla’s right!” Abby was bouncing in her chair now. “That’s exactly what you need, Sandy. How did we not see it before?”
“We did,” Jessie said. “She just wasn’t ready.”
“And you’re ready now?” It was Brittany who asked me directly. Her grin had faded away, replaced by a look of deep concern. She squeezed my hand. “Because if you’re ready, Sandy, then…”
“You think it’s a good idea?”
She nodded slowly. “But only if you’re ready.”
Was I ready?
I was. Truth be told, I’d been ready for longer than anyone really knew; I just didn’t know how to move on. How did a middle-aged widow, mother of two young children meet anyone? Most of my colleagues were female, or gay. Short of online dating, which I was not comfortable with, at my age, there weren’t a lot of options when it came to casual, no-strings involved, sex-focused relationships. And if there were, I certainly hadn’t heard of any.
Until my girlfriends and their whole go for it pact.
Sure, it had ended up in serious, committed relationships for Jessie, Abby, and Brittany. But that hadn’t been the initial intention. And it definitely didn’t have to mean that for me.
I met Brittany’s eyes and nodded. “I think I’ve been ready for a while now.”
Abby let out a whoop, followed by Darla. “Yes,” she said. “Once you get laid, you feel like a completely new woman,” she declared. “Trust me. It changes everything.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe they were right. Maybe if I had a little sexual release and had a little fun, I wouldn’t be so conflicted about the move—or the potential of the move. Maybe then I’d be able to make a decision based on something other than the fact that I was in a rut and needed a change.
Why not?
“You’re sure?” Brittany asked. “Because it wasn’t that long ago that—”
“I know.” I cut her off. Brittany and the others had been encouraging me for years to put myself out there, but I’d always put them off with one excuse or another. And that’s what they were: excuses. Because, truly, I was terrified. “But I really am ready for this. And I can’t lie…” I shrugged a little. “I actually really like the idea of throwing all our hang-ups and preconceived ideas out the window and just…letting loose.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever done that before,” Jessie said. “I mean, you kind of met Greg in college and…that was it.”
I shrugged again and sipped my wine. It was the only other thing I’d kept from my friends but now didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. “Well, maybe you guys can give me some tips?”
“Oh,” Darla laughed, “that we can do.” She raised her glass in cheers.
We all clinked glasses, but before we could drink, Abby asked, “So do you have anyone in mind for this, Sandy? I mean…”
“I think I know.” Jessie smirked and winked at me at the same time a movement across the yard caught my eye.
Dylan.
I glanced over and watched as Dylan led a horse toward the barn doors. Fortunately for me, the girls couldn’t see the dance of the butterflies in my stomach. They could, however, see the blush on my cheeks. And not one of them missed it.
“I knew it,” Abby declared.
“Knew what?”
“I had a feeling there was something going on there.”
“There’s nothing going—”
“Yeah, right!” Jessie nodded. “You two hit it off at my place.”
“And at the wedding,” Brittany added. “I saw the way he looked at you.”
“You were too busy looking at your groom to notice anything else,” I protested.
“I noticed, though.” Darla grinned.
I ignored all of them and let my eyes drift back toward Dylan as he disappeared inside the barn. What if? And it was a huge if, considering he had hardly acknowledged me earlier. But I couldn’t even pretend to lie and say that I hadn’t thought of it. A lot. Jessie wasn’t wrong. From the first time I’d met him, there’d been a spark. Even if it was just on my end, it was definitely there.
“Look.” Abby grabbed my hand. “If, like you said, you need a bit of a shake-up, then why not go for it with Dylan? I mean, aren’t you always reading those cowboy romance novels? This seems pretty perfect.”
She wasn’t wrong. It did seem pretty perfect. But just because I had a thing for cowboys did not mean that Dylan had a thing for frumpy single moms. I expressed my fear to the girls.
“You are not frumpy,” Brittany declared. “You are stunning. You’ve just been out of the game so long that you don’t even realize what a hot number you are.”
I laughed. “I hardly think that’s the problem.”
“She’s right,” Darla chimed in. “You are ridiculously sexy. I mean, how many women can look that good in mom jeans?”
“What?” I looked down at my jeans, which were at least fifteen years old. “Aren’t mom jeans in style again?”
“Not those ones.” Abby laughed. “But I think the main point is, how many women can still fit into their jeans from decades ago?”
“Not me.” Jessie slapped her hands on her plump thighs. “And Darla’s right. Old jeans or not, you rock them. Why wouldn’t Dylan be into a hot little mama like you? Besides,” she added. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You have nothing to worry about.”
I still wasn’t entirely sold, but damn, they were pretty good at convincing me. Besides, it was just sex. And the worst he could say was no. If I could survive my husband dying and leaving me a widow, I certainly could handle a little rejection. But then again, the best-case scenario was that he said yes. And that seemed like a very good best-case scenario. But if I didn’t put myself out there, there wouldn’t be an opportunity for yes. Nothing would change if nothing changed.
I took a deep breath and, before I could talk myself out of it, agreed. “I mean, I might as well try, right?”
“Oh hell, yes!”
“Woo-hoo!”
The girls all whooped and cheered. We toasted to our silly pact, and I couldn’t help but get caught up in the idea of it all. But my laughter died on my lips when I realized that I hadn’t really lied to my friends about what was going on with me, but I had most definitely left out the real reason I’d suddenly decided to put myself out there. The reality of leaving these women, and their friendship behind if I went with Janice and moved across the country, hit me in the gut. But it also gave me a renewed conviction to play along with the whole thing. They all seemed so damn sure that letting myself go would change everything, and didn’t I owe it to them, after all they’d done for me, to give it a shot? Besides, it’s not as if it would be a hardship to go for a roll in the hay with Dylan. Literally and figuratively.
And maybe it would assuage some of my guilt for not telling them about the move if I could tell them something else.
I was grasping at straws, and I knew it.
A renewed shot of nerves flared through me when I looked back to the barn and saw Dylan, leaning against the door, watching. It was ridiculous—from that distance, there was no way to tell for sure—but I knew with certainty, his eyes were focused directly on me.
“No time like the present.” I downed the rest of my wine and with confidence I didn’t know I possessed, stood, straightened my T-shirt, and went for it.
“Not a good idea, Dylan.”
Sophie came up beside me at the barn door. My sister had radar. It was annoying. And the last thing I needed was a keeper of any kind. I could feel her disproval coursing off her in waves. “Remember the last time.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled hard. Of course I remembered. All too well. But it wasn’t my fault that Alida Hampton got clingy and possessive and totally psycho. I made it crystal-clear that I didn’t want a relationship. It was sex. Dirty, hard, and to be honest, not entirely satisfying sex. That was it. A relationship was never on the table. Particularly with some uptight, stuck-up city slicker like her whose only redeemable trait was her firm ass. Her tits had been just as fake as she was. It should have been my first clue.
But she had been a lot of fun for the week she was on the ranch. The minute I got her to unwind that professionally made-up hairdo so I could get my fingers tangled up in it, Alida had been wild. But I’d tamed her.
Over and over and over again.
She’d been great. Until she opened her mouth, of course, but I definitely had my ways of keeping it occupied. She’d been a good way to pass the time, but when her week was over, she did not go quietly back to the city the way she was supposed to.
She’d wanted more. Way more. Namely, a commitment from me. As if that would ever happen. And as it turned out, she didn’t take it too kindly when I told her I was done with her.
Neither had her lawyer when she tried to sue us, claiming that our relationship had not been consensual at all, but that I’d forced myself on her. She didn’t press any charges, because she knew all too well that they wouldn’t have a hope in hell of standing up in court. But the civil case was enough to do some damage and once we got it all settled, Sophie had made me promise to use more discretion.
And I had.
Mostly in the form of not getting involved with the guests again. I left the flirting to the boys. Either their mother didn’t know about their flirting with the guests, or like me, hoped it was kept only to flirting. As long as it wasn’t causing trouble, I stayed out of it and worried about myself.
And keeping my promise to Sophie. It hadn’t been hard.
Until now.
Now Sandy was here. And she was different from other women, very different. I knew it from the moment I met her. Not that I knew anything about her. Not really. In our brief meetings, we’d made casual small talk, nothing more. She had a sweet smile and eyes that held a depth that was unusual in the women I usually met. She hadn’t even been on the grounds for a full hour, and I already knew that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to keep my distance. And if my cock had anything to say about it, I’d definitely be using something, but I wasn’t sure I could promise it would be discretion.
Besides, it’s not as if she were a real guest. It was worse: she was a friend of one of my closest friends. I’d do anything for Shane Grant; he was like a brother to me. Maybe I should have asked him about her, but then again, not knowing was more fun. Definitely more of a challenge. Shane hadn’t specifically told me to stay away from Sandy Clark, but he had made a comment the first time I’d met her that led me to believe Sandy was…not fragile. But maybe delicate. Certainly not someone to mess with.
Not that I planned to break her.
Fuck.
It was probably better for everyone if I just stayed away. And I was just about to give Sophie the assurance she needed in that regard when a lone figure climbed down from the porch of the White Tail cabin, where the women were staying, and walked in my direction.
Even from a distance, I knew. As did my cock that twitched to life in my jeans.
“Dylan?”
I grunted in response but didn’t take my eyes off the woman crossing the yard toward me.
