High Meadow, page 13
It’s still on my mind a few hours later when I close the back of the trailer, locking Phantom safely inside. I give it a few bangs to let Sully know it’s secure and I take a step back when he starts pulling out.
I turn to the house to grab a quick shower before Alex shows up, when my phone rings. It’s Dan.
“What’s up?”
“Sorry to bug you, sir. I cleaned out Phantom’s stall like you asked.”
I don’t bother correcting him again. If the kid feels better calling me sir, so be it. I’ve been called worse.
“Good. Was that it?”
“Uhh, no. There’s a problem with the shit bin.”
What we call the shit bin is a thirty cubic yard container we use to dump the horse manure. Every month or month and a half a truck comes to haul the container to a commercial facility where the horseshit is turned into compost.
“What problem?”
“Looks like the door wasn’t latched properly.”
I drop my head and rub a hand over my face. It’s my own fault, I probably should’ve told Ama to call for a pickup last week but it slipped my mind. We probably overloaded the damn thing.
Sounds like I’m about to shovel some shit.
Alex
* * *
I catch wind of him when I’m still steps from the porch where he’s watching my approach.
Horseshit.
He looks and smells like he rolled in it.
A grin forms on my lips, but he looks far from amused.
“Did you trip and fall in the manure pile?” I tease, keeping about six feet between us.
“Fucking latch popped on the bin,” he grumbles. “Thing was busting at the seams and spilled all over the damn place.”
I’d been a nervous wreck all afternoon. When he’d made a point of mentioning nobody would be at the house, I recognized it for more than just an invitation to dinner. I’m pretty sure this time there’s going to be dessert and as much as I’d like there to be, I’m scared shitless as well.
I’ve always been quite comfortable in my skin. My love life when Bruce was alive was loving, healthy, and active, and my husband never failed to make me feel desired. After he passed away, it took me a while to think of having sex again, but I found that without that emotional connection, I didn’t much care what my partner thought of me.
Selfish?
Probably, but I figured as long as both of us got a physical release out of it there was no harm done.
It’s not quite as simple with Jonas. I already feel a deeper connection, which means I care a lot about his perception of me.
Seeing him standing in front of me covered in manure helps a great deal to settle those nerves. He’s a little less imposing this way.
“You’re smiling. I just spent half an hour trying to stuff shit back into a bin that was already overflowing, and you’re getting a kick out of it,” he accuses.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are automatic and a total lie, which doesn’t seem to escape Jonas.
“No, you’re not.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he takes a threatening step closer. “I think I deserve a kiss.”
A laugh bubbles free as I hold up my hands defensively.
“Not while you smell like that, thank you very much.”
“Is that so?”
His eyes sparkle and he bites his lip as he suddenly shrugs off his jacket, letting it drop on the porch.
“Maybe I should have a shower.”
Next, he pulls the shirt he’s wearing underneath over his head, and drops it on top of his coat. His chest is broad and lightly covered with the same silver he has in his beard. His stomach isn’t flat, but his waist still well defined. Damn. I notice his nipples pucker against the cold chill in the air.
“You’re gonna catch a cold,” I warn him, sounding a little breathless, even to my own ears.
“Can’t wear these inside or I’ll stink up the house.”
Then he kicks off his boots, strips of his socks, and loosens the buckle on his belt. With his eyes boring into mine, he finally drops his jeans, standing only in his boxer briefs in front of me.
The more I try to avoid looking at his crotch, the stronger my eyes are drawn there.
Well, hello.
“Feel free to follow me in. I’m just gonna get this cleaned up for ya,” he taunts, pulling open the storm door before he disappears inside.
He looks as fine going as he does coming. For a fifty-year-old man he has a remarkably tight ass. Guess a lifetime spent in the saddle will do that.
Yowza.
It takes me a few seconds before I follow him in.
My momma didn’t raise a fool. I recognize those words for the promise they hold.
I feel like we may be leaping ahead, but I’m surprisingly okay with that. So okay, I’m actually contemplating whether I should get a head start.
I hang up my coat and kick off my own boots in the hallway before closing the front door. Then I make my way to the base of the stairs where I hear the water turn on upstairs.
Should I?
I only hesitate for a moment before I grab the bannister.
Upstairs I pass by the bathroom door, which is open a crack, and head for his bedroom where I stop on the threshold. I was only here the one time before but never really looked around. The decor is rustic like the rest of the ranch; lots of wood, natural fabrics, and masculine colors. Other than a huge black-and-white print of fog rising up from a mountain meadow, the room is sparse, its main feature the large king-sized bed with a tan leather-tufted headboard.
Am I overstepping? Is this moving too fast?
Uncertainty starts creeping in, but then I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. Even though I put more thought into my appearance than I normally do, I’m still just me. But my eyes are bright, my cheeks are flushed, and I’m wearing my best underwear.
We’re both well into adulthood, there’s no one to answer to, so why not?
By the time the shower turns off, twilight shines in through the blinds and I’m in his bed in only my fancy lingerie, reconsidering my decision yet again.
“Fucking dream, walking in here finding you in my bed.”
Too late.
Jonas’s green eyes are intense when I turn my head to face him.
“I wasn’t sure,” I admit.
Instead of answering, he lumbers over—unapologetically naked—and bends over the bed until his eyes are just inches from mine. Then he lowers his mouth to mine, kissing any doubt from my mind. When he releases my lips and straightens up, I have a chance to peruse him in his entirety. There’s a lot to admire.
“Only complaint I have is you’re wearing too many clothes.”
I snort, the frilly bits of fabric barely covering me can hardly be called clothes.
But my laughter fades quickly when the rough pad of his index finger snags on the lace of my bra, sending prickles over my skin.
“You can fix that,” I suggest, too aware of his eyes skimming every inch of my body.
For a moment I’m startled when he takes my hand and pulls me up and off the bed, but then he takes my place and arranges himself with his back against the headboard.
“I’d rather watch you do it.”
Oh shit.
I’m already feeling a little exposed and God knows I’m far from a seductress, so a sexy striptease is out of my wheelhouse. Then I catch the blatant appreciation in his eyes and realize the man isn’t expecting a show, all he wants is for me not to hold back and give myself voluntarily.
That I can do.
It takes me one point two seconds to take off my bra, like I do every night in my own bedroom. My panties I shimmy down my hips and step out of, kicking them aside. When my eyes return to his, he’s not even looking at the parts I exposed, but are focused on my face.
Then he holds out his hand.
“Come here, Sweets.”
He is clear where he wants me so I climb on his lap, straddling him.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers, cupping my breasts with his hands and rubbing his rough thumbs over my nipples.
In turn I explore his chest with my fingers, loving the light abrasion of his chest hair.
I hiss when his lips close over a nipple, and my back arches as he draws me into his mouth.
“So goddamn sweet,” he mumbles against my skin.
Sixteen
Jonas
* * *
Dear God in heaven.
I’d hoped we’d end up naked but I figured I’d have to work for it. Finding her already in my bed threw me for a loop, but only for a second.
Her skin is so fucking soft I’m almost afraid I’ll leave marks, but I can’t stop touching her. Gorgeous, and she doesn’t even realize it. There is no guise with this woman, no effort to appear anything other than who she is, and that in itself makes her irresistible.
I find her wet when I trace her spine to the curve of her ass and dip my hand between her legs. She moans into my mouth as liquid heat coats my fingers. Already my cock is weeping, craving her touch.
It’s not long before she is rocking against me, riding my hand.
“Jonas…”
Her plea is soft but her nails digging into my shoulder are leaving marks. Her other hand trails down and finds my cock, wrapping firmly around the hot steel.
I hiss sharply. “You’re gonna undo me, Alexandra. Be gentle.”
She raises her head and grins at me, lifting her hips as she slides the tip along her slick folds. A natural temptress, drawing a tortured groan from my lips, and it’s all I can do to keep from burying myself in her heat.
Grabbing her firmly around the waist, I abruptly flip her off me and onto the mattress, following with the weight of my body.
“Protection,” I mumble, bracing myself above her as I try to reach the drawer of my nightstand where I tucked the box of condoms I bought last week.
“Boy Scout,” she teases, but her body squirms restlessly.
My hand is shaking with anticipation as I try to roll the damn thing on.
“Let me.”
Her hands are steady and sure, and the moment I drop my hips in the cradle of hers, she guides my cock in place. I brace myself on my arms and look down at her, her brown eyes brazenly hungry as she grabs a firm hold of my ass.
Christ have mercy.
I’m trying to go slow as I push inside her, but the moment I feel the heat of her body close around me I lose all control.
“Fuck,” I grind out as I bury myself to the root.
Despite the slight wince on her face, she instantly clamps her legs firmly around my hips, anchoring me in place. I close my eyes and lower my forehead to hers, giving her time to adjust.
“You feel good,” she whispers, tilting her hips to allow me deeper.
I take my cue and slowly start moving inside her.
“You have no idea,” I return, my lips already seeking out her mouth.
Too soon I feel a telltale tingle at the base of my spine. Alex is moaning down my throat as her fingers dig into my ass cheeks, urging me deeper. She’s close, but so am I.
The air is thick with our scents and the sounds of exertion as I power inside her, quickly gliding a hand down to where we are connected. I find her clit and roll it under the pad of my thumb until I feel the walls of her pussy contract around me. As she keens her release, I grunt out my own, my body jerking with the force.
My heart thunders in my chest when I collapse my full weight on top of her and bury my face in her hair. Realizing I’m too heavy, I try to lift myself up on trembling arms but she wraps me up in her limbs, holding me tightly.
“I’m too heavy,” I tell her breathlessly, but she disagrees.
“No. You feel perfect.”
“Great steak.”
I sit back in my chair and grin at Alex.
“Told you the only thing I’ve been able to master is the grill.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “I’d say you’ve mastered a few other things along the way as well.”
I still carry her scent on me and even though she’s sitting across from me—dressed in one of my shirts—all I see is her freckled, sweat-slicked skin, and those sated brown eyes smiling up at me. I would’ve been happy staying in bed and forfeiting dinner, but her stomach had rumbled reminding me of my promise to feed her.
She’s cute when she’s playful like this, showing me another side of her, which only adds to the appeal.
“Glad to know I haven’t disappointed you.”
“Far from it,” she assures me as she gets up and starts collecting dishes.
“Leave those. Ama will take care of it in the morning.”
Wrong thing to say.
She turns and throws me a pointedly raised eyebrow over her shoulder.
“I will do no such thing. I’m sure Ama has better things to do than clean up after us.”
Damn, I must be falling harder than I thought: even the way she puts me in my place turns me on.
Maybe I’ve become a little too accustomed to the luxury of having someone pick up after me. I’m trying to remember the last time I made my own bed.
She’s right. Ama not only has her hands full with her own family, but also my house, the business, my father, and now I’ve also asked her to keep an eye on Dan’s mother during the day. I’m a grown-ass man, she shouldn’t have to look after me as well.
I walk over to where Alex is standing in front of the sink, the hem of my shirt almost coming down to the back of her knees. Knowing she has nothing but a pair of flimsy panties on underneath is a little distracting. It would be so easy to slip them aside and plunge into her from behind.
The sudden sound of running water in the sink snaps me out of it, and I grab for a dish towel. Somehow, I get the feeling me showing her I heard and understood will gain me more credit than bending her over the sink.
Besides, I never got around to telling her about the property map Sully showed me.
Alex
* * *
I think I was twenty-one, and still in college, the last time I had to execute a walk of shame.
The clock on my dashboard says it’s only five thirty and I would’ve expected Lucy to still be sound asleep, but all the downstairs lights are on.
Before I left last night, I did tell her not to wait up for me, but hadn’t intended to stay the night. I’d fallen asleep after Jonas decided to introduce me to a few other skills he’d clearly mastered.
That was after he informed me the mine they’d discovered on their search had been found near the creek bordering my property. At first, the idea they might be close made me a little uneasy, but Jonas told me my land reached much farther up into the mountains than I’d realized, which made me feel better. Besides, they’d hardly bother us if their objective is to stay hidden.
Still, arriving to a house ablaze with lights at five thirty in the morning makes me wonder if perhaps I should’ve come home right away. I slip the gun I’d kept in my glovebox at the ranch in my pocket and exit the truck. The front door opens when I put a foot on the first porch step.
“What’s wrong?” I ask Lucy, who steps out on the porch.
“Nothing wrong,” she answers, shrugging her shoulders. “I saw your truck pull up, that’s all.”
I can smell the lie even from where I’m standing. I’m about to call her on it when she pivots and heads back inside. I follow her in.
“I’m guessing you had a good time?” she says, heading for the kitchen as I kick off my boots and toss my jacket.
“Yeah. I dozed off, sorry.”
I bend down to greet the dogs, who have fast become part of the family, before I follow after Lucy.
She’s already pouring coffee in my favorite mug and hands it over.
“No need to apologize.”
The chattiness along with the obviously fake smile this early in the morning cranks my suspicions even higher.
“All right. Out with it. Why are you up, and why is the house lit like Lumen Field at the Seahawks opening game, at this time of morning?”
She turns her back to pour herself a cup while I—not so patiently—wait.
“Fine,” she mumbles when she finally turns around. “I got a little freaked out and imagined I was hearing things.”
“Like what? Where?”
“A noise up in the attic. Anyway, it’s a moot point because I got up, went to check it out, and there was nothing up there. Every door in the house was locked and the dogs didn’t alert,” she says, tapping a finger to her head. “All in my mind.”
“And yet here you are before the sun’s even up, with every light on,” I point out.
“Yeah, well, it brought up some stuff I’d just as soon forget.” She sets her mug on the counter and dives into the fridge. “Feel like an omelet?”
I don’t need to be a mind reader to know Lucy doesn’t plan to elaborate on that comment, but I’m not willing to let it go that easily.
“I’d love an omelet, but Lucy?” I wait until she looks at me, albeit reluctantly. “Any time you want to talk, I’m here to listen. No judgment, no expectations, no strings attached. Just a caring ear. Okay?”
Her lips press together and I catch her swallowing hard, but she nods her agreement. Then she turns her attention back to the contents of the fridge.
Whether she’ll ever take me up on it or not, I don’t know, but at least the offer is out there. I get the unsettling feeling her story won’t be a pretty one.
“Do I have time for a quick shower?”
“Please do. I don’t want the olfactory reminder of your date night’s activities to spoil my appetite.”
There’s the Lucy I know and love; direct, snarky, and completely irreverent. With a headshake and a grin, I walk out of the kitchen and head up the stairs.
Ten minutes later I feel a bit more presentable, although I miss smelling Jonas on my skin. I can smell bacon and frying onions waft upstairs and quickly get dressed. As I walk across the landing to the top of the stairs, I notice the door to the attic open a crack. Lucy probably left it open.
