Wind River Rancher, page 15
Life had been so damned black and white when he was well. When PTSD hadn’t run his life. Being without anxiety the last week had been a miracle, and for that, Reese was grateful to his soul. With the anxiety gone, and the paranoia and jumpiness that came with it, he was finding himself thinking normally again. And because of that, it pushed him to go to the main house and find Shay. His protectiveness was clamoring in every cell of his body to go and find out if he could help her.
It was 10:00 A.M. as Reese pulled back his glove to look at the watch on his wrist. He knew that Shay had gone over to see her father early because there was so much to do today. He pushed open the back door to the house and stepped in, wiping his boots on the mat, getting off the dirt. Looking down the long, polished hall, he heard Shay moving around in the kitchen. Dragging in a deep breath, Reese made some noise walking down the hall so she would hear him coming. The last thing he wanted to do was startle her.
He rounded the entrance to the kitchen and saw Shay at the counter making bread from scratch. She had a huge slab of dough on the counter, gently kneading it with her hands. Her hair was piled on top of her head and held with a tortoiseshell comb. Around her waist she wore a red apron. Shay looked beautiful in the tan slacks and feminine pink short-sleeved blouse she wore. She turned, twisted a look across her shoulder at him. His heart dropped. Noah was right; her eyes were red rimmed. And there were spots of flour on her brow and cheek. It made her look hauntingly vulnerable.
“Hey,” he murmured, taking off his Stetson and hanging it on the peg. “I just got back from riding fence line and was coming in to make some coffee.”
“Go ahead,” she said, returning to kneading the dough.
Reese heard the low huskiness in her voice. He knew she’d been crying earlier. He floundered around inwardly, unsure what to do. She looked happy to see him, though. How blind had he been? “I’ll stay outta your way,” he said, going to the other end of the counter. “Looks like you’re tapping into your inner baker?” he asked, quickly setting up the coffeepot and flipping on the switch.
“Yes . . . I wanted . . . needed to do something positive for a while.”
He heard the hesitation in her voice and noted Shay refused to look at him, her eyes on the bread she was gently folding between her hands. “What kind of bread will we have tonight?” he asked, leaning against the sink, watching her profile.
“Whole wheat and honey. My mom”—she stopped to push some hanging tendrils of hair off her brow with her forearm—“created the recipe when I was a kid. I remember coming out here when I was only seven years old. I loved the smell of the bread being mixed with the local honey.”
Reese heard a tremble in her low voice. “Those kinds of good memories are the ones we always want to keep close in our heart.”
Shay took some more flour from a bowl, smoothing it over the huge lump before her. “My mom brought over a stool and had me help her. I don’t know, there’s just something life affirming about making it. We had so many wonderful times when she’d make us bread. She had such a great sense of humor and I can remember standing on that stool and she’d give me part of the dough, dip my hands in flour, and then show me how to knead it. Said that it really was the staff of life.”
Reese could feel the tension in Shay, although it wasn’t transferring to the dough she kneaded with her slender hands. She wasn’t pounding the hell out of the dough; she was kneading it with great gentleness, almost as if the bread was sacred. “You miss her a lot.” He saw her hands freeze for a split second and then she continued to fold the bread.
“Anyone who loves you,” she choked out, “you miss . . .”
His heart twinged as he saw the silvery path of a tear streaking down her cheek. Ah hell, he was such a goner when it came to Shay. He pushed off the counter, unlocking his arms, walking up to her. “It sounds like you could use someone to listen.” He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Instantly, he saw Shay’s mouth tuck, as if to stop from crying out. The tension in her shoulders was real beneath his fingertips. She stopped kneading, her hands stilling over the dough.
“Let me get this done?”
Lifting his hand, he said, “Sure.” Shay felt brittle, as if she were going to snap. Amazed that his old intuition was back and working once more, the cortisol hormone no longer running his life and desensitizing him to others, he stepped away. “Coffee’s almost done,” he managed, trying to keep his voice light. Reese was smart enough not to push it with Shay. He was going to give her an opportunity to tell him what was bothering her if she wanted.
“I-I’ll take a cup. Please?”
“Sure,” he rumbled, pulling down two mugs from the cabinet. Reese watched as she pulled out six aluminum loaf pans, greased them and then divided the dough into them. When she was done, she placed a small terry cloth towel over each one to allow them to rise. He went over to the table, set the mugs of coffee down, and pulled out her chair for her. She wouldn’t look at him after she washed her hands in the sink, wiping them off on her apron as she came over to the table.
“Thanks,” she whispered, sliding her hands around the white mug.
Reese settled into a chair, worried that Shay was going to explode. Lips tight, she stared down at the coffee between her hands. The tendrils of hair were soft around her pale face and he stopped the urge to reach out and touch them. God knew, he wanted to. But he didn’t trust himself with her any longer, the drive to touch her . . . kiss her . . . was powerful.
“What inspired you to make bread?” he asked, giving her an amused look. “Our talk about not having your kitchen because Garret took it over?” He saw her lift her chin, her blue eyes marred with darkness. Now, he could see how much she’d been crying. His heart lurched. Reese put a clamp on his anger toward Ray Crawford. Only he could do this much damage. Reese’s fingers itched to touch Shay, comfort her, hold her. What would she do if he tried to embrace her? Was Noah right? God, he was so screwed up inside, unable to honestly figure out how she felt toward him.
“I needed to do something I loved doing. Bread always makes me focus on the good things in my life.” She took a sip of coffee, unable to look at him.
“It’s nice to see you back in your kitchen.” Shay reminded him of all the good things a marriage brought to a man. He wasn’t a slouch in the kitchen either, but there was just something heartwarming about her making bread in her kitchen. Reese couldn’t explain it, only feel it. “After the arena-raising, you’ll be that much closer to reclaiming your house from all of us,” he teased. He saw Shay give him a sad look, her fingers moving restlessly around the cup she clung to.
“In one way, yes, but I will miss us being a family, eating together at night . . . the conversations, the laughter and fun we’ve all shared at this table.”
“It does get rank every once in a while, though,” he agreed with a slight smile. Her eyes were downcast on the cup again and he saw her lower lip tremble. It broke Reese that Shay was trying so damned hard to not talk about what was bothering her.
He tried to steel himself when he asked gently, “You saw your father this morning?” Instantly, he saw Shay stiffen, her mouth compress. Worse, the pain in her eyes tore at him. He had to bring it up. Reese knew what it was like to hold an emotional bomb within and not release it. The damage it did was untold and it was as good as receiving a physical wound. He braced himself for what was to come because it was clear Shay wasn’t going to be able to control the hurt in her expression, in her eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Shay abruptly stood, releasing the cup and nearly knocking over the chair as she pushed it back. Walking to the sink, she gripped the counter, head down, shoulders hunched.
Reese slowly rose and walked over to her. The moment he grazed her shoulder, a strangled sound came out of her. She tried to pull away from his touch.
“Shay . . .” he rasped. To hell with it. Reese took the biggest risk he had taken in the last two years. Reaching out, he gripped her shoulder and turned her gently toward him. The look on Shay’s face pulverized him as she pressed her hand to her lips, looking up at him. He felt gutted.
“Come here,” he said roughly, hauling her into his arms, holding her tightly against him.
Nothing had ever felt so good as Shay pressed against him, her face buried in his shirt as she sobbed. The sounds of hurt scored his heart and Reese closed his eyes, holding her, feeling her entire body tremble with weeping. He felt his shirt dampen where her tears fell.
When her arms went around his waist, he groaned, sliding one hand into her soft, thick hair, holding her tenderly. His other hand came to rest against the small of her back. Mouth thin, Reese closed his eyes as he rested his chin against her hair, inhaling the scent of oranges from the shampoo she had used that morning.
“Just let it all out, Shay,” he whispered raggedly against her ear. Her hair was silky against his nose and cheek as her arms tightened even more around him. The warmth of Shay, her softness, her woman’s strength, all conspired heavily against Reese. She was crying so hard, shaking in his arms, that his chest imploded with grief, care, and something he never thought he’d ever feel again. It scared the hell out of him, feeling love so vibrant, so real, that it made him freeze for a moment. No! It couldn’t be. What was going on?
Assailed by the violent flood of shocking emotions tunneling through him as Shay cried, her face buried against his chest, Reese felt his entire world shifting. The sensation was real. The emotions . . . oh, God, they were too real, too needy, too hungry. He felt guilt and shame overwhelm him.
He buried his face in her hair, absorbing the contact, her feminine scent, her arms around him. The urge to kiss her, to comfort her even more, seized him.
Gently, he slid his hand from her hair and down across her back, and up again. What he wanted to do—and what he should do—were two different things. Shay needed comfort. Not a kiss from him. He wanted to make love to her and he knew it was the wrong thing to be thinking about at that moment. He was so starved for a woman’s touch, a beggar greedily taking from Shay, when he should be giving back to her, instead. How little he had to give her. Reese felt terrible that he’d sunk so far down he didn’t have the compassion he’d had before starting his slide into oblivion.
It didn’t matter. He would summon everything left in him that still had a shred of integrity, and give it to Shay.
Reese drew her solidly against him, whispering low, gruff words of comfort against her ear, hoping she’d hear them through her sobs. Each time he grazed her hair with his hand, her sobs lessened a little bit more. He was helping her. Reese was grateful . . .
Her arms began to loosen a little around his waist, so he eased up on how tightly he was holding her. When she nuzzled her cheek against his chest, he groaned. He couldn’t stop the pleasurable sound. Just the softness of her cheek against his hard-muscled chest, sent frissons of fire licking down through his body and settling hotly in his groin. The woman didn’t realize how she affected him and Reese couldn’t blame her. Shay’s actions were innocent, seeking solace, not sex, from him. And he damn well knew the difference, placing a choke chain on his own sexual hunger. He forced himself to translate those needs into something far more compassionate, for Shay’s sake.
“There,” he murmured, holding his hand on her sagging shoulders, “that’s better . . .” To his surprise, his thick words had an effect upon her. Shay made a muffled sound against his chest, eyes closed, as if needing his continued nearness. That, Reese could give her honestly without thoughts of sex. It tore him up to think of her savaged by her father. But this time, her reaction was the worst one he’d seen following a visit to Ray Crawford. Shay was devastated. And so was he, but in a different way, because Reese wanted to protect her. How could Shay stand to be torn up like this so often? So continually? Her strength was more than Reese had ever realized.
To whisper to her that everything would be all right, Reese knew would be an outright lie. A child and parent relationship lasted forever, even after the parent died. The emotions, the branding by her parents on Shay as a child, lasted forever. He felt so damned helpless, wanting desperately to comfort her but knowing his platitudes would be empty words.
So he continued doing the only thing he knew that would help her, and that was to slide his hand slowly up and down her back, caressing her, caring for her. Shay’s sobs finally ended and the silence gently embraced them as they stood together in the kitchen.
Shay clung to him as if to be torn out of his arms would mean she would die. Her unspoken feelings struck him fully. And truth be told? Reese wanted to keep holding her, because she completed him in a way no woman ever had. The realization was as shocking and stark as it was heated with blazing promise. Closing his eyes, he rested his chin lightly against the top of her head, knowing that was an impossibility. He was so damaged. Beyond repair. Shay deserved someone who was whole. Someone who could give her what she so richly deserved. He’d come to realize he was only half a man. Never again would he be whole.
It didn’t stop Reese from dreaming. But that’s all it would ever be: a dream. Noah had been right, however. There was something good and clean and wonderful that they shared. With the bitterness of his destroyed marriage, and his two-year spiral into hell, Reese had become a pragmatist about his fall. The reality was that Shay wasn’t nearly as damaged as he or the other vets. She, at least, had a hope of recovery. And he wanted to be the man to help her do just that: support her in her efforts to heal. She deserved it more than any person he knew. She’d done so much for so many others without a thought for herself. She’d given her heart to the vets, her home, her food, and care.
And what could Reese give her in return?
The bitter reality, the harsh answer, tamped down all the hope crying out to be heard in his heavily scarred heart. He was afraid if he ever slept with Shay, if caught in one of those flashback nightmares, he would strike out, hitting her as he’d once struck Leslie. Only this time, he might do even worse injury. Reese had killed with his hands in combat. He knew what it was like. A lump formed painfully in his throat and he kept swallowing, wanting to howl with anger over the unfairness of life. He wanted so desperately to give back to Shay. But he was beneath her. Broken.
Reese felt Shay lift her head. He opened his arms so she could stand and move away from him if she wanted. He felt her hands easing from around his waist but hovering over his hips as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with grief as she studied him in silence. Without thinking, Reese smoothed damp hair from her pale, wet cheek and eased the strands behind her ear. He saw her eyes change, pupils enlarge, her lips part slightly in response to his butterfly-light touch.
And then, the impossible happened.
Shay leaned up, her hand resting lightly against his jaw, her lips finding his. She kissed him.
Reese’s world halted, as if tethered by an anchor, as her soft, trembling mouth slid so tentatively, so shyly against the compressed line of his lips. Shocking heat bolted down through him. And as her lashes, damp with tears, fell against her cheeks and she nudged open the seam of his lips, asking him to kiss her in return, his heartbeat pounded out of control.
Taking her mouth gently, Reese heard a low sound in her throat telling him she liked what he was doing. Never had Reese thought he’d be kissing Shay. It had been a dream. That’s all. Just a dream.
Until right now. He slid his mouth across hers, letting her know he wanted to kiss her, too. His mind spun. Was she kissing him out of neediness? Or was she kissing him because she wanted him as much as he wanted her? Reese didn’t know, feeling the moist warmth of her breath feathering across his nose and cheek, sinking deeper into the softness of her open lips against his.
It had been two years since he’d felt the heat and joy of connecting with a woman’s mouth. Reese’s body went giddy inwardly, so many suppressed feelings flooding brightly and powerfully through him. All he could do was focus on Shay’s mouth, her tenderness as she explored him a little more with each breath she took. He felt her fingers tighten against his cheek, felt her leaning into him, her breasts pressed fully against his chest. His one hand cupped the back of her head, the other coming to rest on the small of her back. Reese angled her head just enough to take full advantage of what she was offering him.
The moment her mouth blossomed in scalding invitation to his, he shuddered—the pleasure, the heat of her lips fully against his. Flooded with dormant sensations he thought he’d never feel again, a deep, rumbling groan rose in his chest. Reese felt Shay’s other hand slide firmly against his spine, desperately blending them against one another until he was melting into her like hot, sweet honey.
Her mouth was beguiling, her arms sweetly strong, holding his broken spirit, mending him back together with her courageous heart. It drove tears into the back of Reese’s eyes as he completely gave himself to her. He felt Shay respond in kind. The world centered only on their mouths clinging hungrily to one another, searching one another with an eagerness that shocked him. Shay was just as starved as he was! That realization struck Reese deeply. It told him how wounded she really was, that Shay hid her own injuries from all of them. That he’d been wrong: She wasn’t light years ahead of them when it came to her PTSD.
He brought her completely into his arms, caring for her, loving her, glorying in something so beautiful and right between them, that they celebrated it together. They understood one another completely because they had walked in the same shoes.
Reese became aware of so many things about Shay, about himself, that it overwhelmed him emotionally. More than anything, he felt her fragility on a level he’d never plumbed before. Despite Shay’s strength, she was so terribly, mortally wounded, that it scared the hell out of him. Only when she’d dropped those walls she’d held so well in place, with this one kiss, did he honestly realize how much she was struggling. It broke his heart in one way, and in another, his protective nature reared up like a dragon within him and he swore silently he would do something to shield her. Reese didn’t know what. Only that he would. Shay had the courage to not only open up to him, but trust him enough to fully reveal her wounds to him. Shaken to his core, Reese gently eased from her mouth, their ragged breaths mingling.
