The Widow of Conard County Page 13

  She looked at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into that. Was it too bad?”

  “I enjoyed it. You have nice friends.”

  “I wondered because you were so quiet.”

  “Since I started coming sideways at things, I’ve learned that’s often best. Look what happened when I mentioned my injury. It was like I threw a stink bomb in the middle of the table.”

  “Not for long.” Thank God.

  “So you used to lunch with them every week?”

  “When school is out. During the school year it’s one Saturday a month. The group can vary. Sometimes huge, sometimes just a few.”

  “It’s nice.”

  “Well, I’m still sorry I forgot about it.”

  “I’m not. And maybe you didn’t really forget.”

  That sparked her temper a bit. “I did forget. I knew it would be hard for you to meet so many new people. Maybe stressful. I wouldn’t have deliberately walked you into that.”

  “Maybe not. Or maybe like that shrink in rehab used to tell me, you’re smarter than you think. You forget all about it, but at some level you get prodded to do what you need.”

  “I was fine!”

  “I’m sure. You also needed a change of scene and went right back to something you used to love to do. I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

  She started fuming. “I don’t like that. If that’s what I wanted I could have come to town by myself.”

  “You could. But maybe that’s not all you needed.”

  “Damn, don’t analyze me!”

  He surprised her by starting to smile. “Time for me to shut up, I guess. I sure know how to light your fire.”

  “Sheesh,” she said, and unlocked the truck so they could both get in. “I don’t need a shrink.”

  “I’m not saying you do.” He slid in and buckled up while she turned on the ignition. “Sorry you were so worried about me. I hope I didn’t embarrass you or ruin your lunch.”

  “Aw, hell,” she said. “Don’t even think that. You were fine.”

  “I didn’t know teachers cussed so much.”

  She glared at him, but as she caught the twitch at the corners of his mouth, her annoyance evaporated. “You’re a handful,” she said finally, on a laugh. “Dang, I can’t stay mad at you.”

  “Good. Where to now?”

  Good question, she thought. They were still parked near the diner and Conard City wasn’t exactly overrun with amusements. There was a bookstore, but she couldn’t think of anything less likely to entertain Liam than that.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted frankly.

  “Got a man you can see about a goat?”

  He seemed fixed on that, she realized. But then, she’d told him it was a dream of hers. “Yes,” she said, decision made. “Let’s go see Dr. Windwalker.”

  As they were driving toward the veterinary clinic and kennels on the edge of town, Liam asked her point-blank, “Did you give up your lunches because of Chet?”

  “I wasn’t much interested in socializing.”

  “Maybe you should start them again. You don’t have to take me along. A guy at a ladies’ gabfest would be kind of a drag.”

  “They’re not that kind of gabfest, and sometimes we have men come. They didn’t mind you being there, Liam.”

  “They didn’t seem to.”

  But now the tongues would be wagging, she thought. Too bad they’d be wagging about something that wasn’t even going on. Hanged for a scarlet woman when she was still living like a nun. A giggle escaped her.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She just shook her head. That was something she definitely didn’t want to share with him.

  * * *

  “Goats are cool,” Mike Windwalker was telling her a short time later. “They’re fun, they’re curious and they’re independent. They can also be a headache with their mischief, but that’s part of their charm. Are you thinking of them as pets?”

  “Pretty much,” she admitted. “I’m in no position to take it up as anything else.”

  “Then talk to Ransom Laird. He’s got a few he keeps mostly as pets, and he’s got a couple of kids he might be willing to part with as long as they’re not going for meat. He can help you with dietary requirements and care.”

  “Dietary requirements?”

  Dr. Windwalker smiled. “Everything has dietary requirements when it’s penned in. Anyway, he’ll know the ins and outs better than I do. I mostly see them for immunizations or when they get sick.”

  After a stop at the grocery for odds and ends, they headed home as the afternoon turned golden.

  “Did you get enough of a scenery change?” Liam asked her.

  “I did,” she answered. “How about you?”

  “I enjoyed it. More than I thought I would.”

  Then he astonished her by reaching out to rest his palm on her thigh. The touch was warm, friendly, not in any way sexual, but rather intimate, as if they were growing closer.

  Sexual or not, she found it hard to concentrate on driving with the weight of his hand resting so casually on her leg. It wasn’t getting any better, she realized as warmth began to pool between her legs. No better at all.

  At some level she apparently had thought that if she could just ignore the attraction she felt for him, it would go away. The couple of kisses they had shared had been just kisses, and when he had made no further move, she assumed that much as he said he wanted her, he’d made up his mind on the subject.

  Now she wondered, and wondering broke down all the walls she’d been trying to build. She was no fool. She knew she’d been alone for a long time. She knew she might be susceptible for reasons that had nothing to do with Liam and everything to do with her. In short, she might be weak and unable to choose what was best for her.

  But she realized as they steadily approached her ranch that she hardly cared any longer. She was tired of trying to quash normal needs and feelings out of some misguided sense of...what?

  She didn’t even really know why she was fighting it so hard, suppressing her longing as much as possible. What was she afraid of? That a brief fling could wound her irrevocably? That Liam might move on and leave her grieving yet again?

  That last question caused her to stiffen. That was it, wasn’t it? She was afraid of living. Afraid of risking a repeat of the pain of losing Chet. She was sublimating entire parts of herself in the hopes of avoiding pain.

  Was that any way to live?

  The question nagged at her almost as much as an almost breathless sense of anticipation. She had to fight to keep her eyes on the road, but Liam’s hand, heavy on her leg, seemed to have become the focus of her universe. Did that touch mean something? He didn’t touch casually, she had noticed. Maybe because of all his years in the army. Maybe because he wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of person.

  But it remained that other than a kiss, this was the first time he had deliberately touched her. It felt freighted with meaning. Had he reached some decision? She hoped he had, even as she wasn’t sure she had herself.

  What was she getting into here, anyway? She liked Liam, of that she was sure. And sometimes she wondered if she didn’t care for him a little more than that, because of the way she ached for him when he struggled with his frustrations and limitations.

  Was she sure she just wasn’t feeling overwhelming sympathy? That could be dangerous. But as soon as she tried to think about it, she knew that wasn’t it. Maybe in the first few days, but not now.

  There was nothing pitiable about Liam. She’d figured that out. He hadn’t quit trying, even though he had plenty of excuses to. In the right setting, he was still perfectly competent, and she was finding that his cognitive impairment didn’t trouble her at all. She was getting used to it and didn’t f
eel, as she had initially feared, as if he constantly needed guidance.

  She’d watched his confidence grow as he’d attacked various jobs and found that he could either still do them, or could figure out how to do them, sometimes with a little help. And it had been rewarding for both of them.

  But where did that get her? That she wanted him for the right reasons, or that she wanted him for the wrong reasons? Maybe she needed some time to sort out her own tangled emotional skein before she got into something she might not be ready for.

  But wanting was not the same as loving. She knew that to her very core. She had loved once, and she wouldn’t mistake desire for that deep and enduring emotion.

  So what was she really afraid of? That she might discover that parts of life could still be beautiful?

  Another wave of grief for Chet passed through her, quieter now than before. He had missed so many of the good things, and now he would never know them.

  You’ll turn my heaven into hell.

  Chet’s loving heart hadn’t wanted her to crawl into a grave with him. He didn’t want her to deny herself the things he couldn’t have. He wanted her to enjoy all of them, even though he couldn’t be with her.

  That was true love. No, she wouldn’t mix it up with anything else, of that she was certain.

  They turned onto the dirt drive that led to the house. The barn, whitened with primer, seemed bright against the surrounding countryside, almost like a beacon.

  Liam had done that for her. Whether from gratitude or some sense of obligation, didn’t matter. He had a big heart, too, and was struggling with demons she could only imagine. But he fought on, determined to make some kind of future for himself. Determined to become as functional as possible. Even the reading lessons spoke volumes. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d been insulted. A lot of men would have been, feeling it was an attack on their manhood. Not Liam. He’d accepted it and taken to it like a man thirsty for knowledge.

  His hand was still on her thigh and it was all she could think of. Her distracting thoughts were giving way to an awareness of Liam: his touch, his scent, his nearness. It was like being wrapped in a spell of some kind, and she feared it would end as soon as she parked.

  She didn’t want it to end. She wanted it to go on and on. She wasn’t sure how far she wanted it to go, but she knew how much she needed even little things.

  God, it had been so long since she’d been touched. So long since she’d been held close for any but the briefest moments of sympathy. She had felt Liam’s arms around her, powerful and sure, and she wanted that feeling again.

  “I’ll get the groceries,” Liam said as the truck stopped beside the house. His hand vanished from her leg and she felt the loss as acutely as if a piece of her skin had ripped off.

  Fantasies. Just fantasies. He had his own reasons to be cautious about this, too. And she supposed she should be grateful since it seemed her own willpower was dying a rapid death in the face of deeply rooted yearnings.

  She left him to get the few grocery bags, no more than he could carry with a single hand, and headed inside, telling her body to calm down, telling herself to banish the disappointment. The touch may have meant nothing. He might have simply rested his hand on her because he was as hungry for human contact as she was.

  Considering the glimpses she’d had of his journey to see her, she could certainly understand that. Months in rehab followed by a road trip that had to have stressed him to the max, and all of it alone. In their different ways, they had both been to hell and were just starting to make their way back.

  Affection, sorely missed, was as much of a need as any. Maybe that was what they were seeking.

  Standing at the kitchen window, looking out, she heard his heavy tread as he walked into the room behind her. Bags rustled as he placed them on the table. She was afraid to turn around and look at him, for fear he might have withdrawn again into that place that had taken him so far away the past few days. Lost in memories? Lost in thoughts about a future? Or simply lost in dealing with his own changes? She had no way to know, and he didn’t seem inclined to talk.

  She heard him put things in the fridge, and still she didn’t move. She tried to focus on her dinner plans, but kept getting sidetracked by thoughts of him, so near and yet so far.

  Without warning, powerful arms wrapped around her from behind, causing her to gasp. Warm breath caressed her neck, then his husky voice said, “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Oh, no!” She hated to think he was misinterpreting her pensiveness, but how else could he take it when she wouldn’t even look at him? “I was just thinking.”

  He didn’t release her. Instead, she felt him settle into his stance more comfortably, legs spreading, and then he drew her back against his chest.

  “I know that place,” he said. His breath now whispered warmly against her ear. “Lost in thought.”

  She tried to lighten the moment in defiance of the hot pool of hunger that had settled between her thighs. Damn, it felt as if every cell in her body had sprung to sudden life. She could even feel her nipples pebbling, hoping for a touch. “Did you find any answers to cosmic questions?”

  “If you’re a cosmic question, then no.”

  She caught her breath. “Liam...” His name seemed to bear the weight of every burgeoning desire she felt.

  “I can’t promise a thing,” he said. “Do you understand that? I don’t know how well I’ll deal with who I am now. I don’t know for sure that I’ve got anything to offer.”

  “I’m not asking for forever here.” She wasn’t. She was fairly certain of that.

  “Good. Because I’m not sure I can give it.”

  She sighed and let her head tip back against his shoulder. “We’re adults,” she said pointlessly.

  “Which means we can make some really big mistakes.”

  That made twice today that his insight had startled her. Deficits? What deficits? The important things still seemed to be a part of him. Like that business about her unconscious taking her to town and into Maude’s diner, knowing at some level that she’d run into her friends. She didn’t want to be analyzed, but he’d hit that nail squarely on the head. Her irritation had come from being so transparent to him, but not to herself.

  “I don’t know what we’re doing here,” he said honestly. But then he was always honest, sometimes painfully so. “Do you?”

  “No,” she admitted. “I just know that resurrection is a hard thing to do.”

  “That’s a good word for it.” Then, “Aw, hell.”

  He turned her around until she faced him, then without a word slid his hands down to cup her rump. As he started to lift her, she instinctively grabbed his shoulders. In one easy movement, he lifted her onto the counter and came to stand between her legs.

  “Just a little,” he murmured, “just a taste.”

  She didn’t know whether he was talking to her or himself, but it ceased to matter as his mouth found hers.

  The melting inside her was instantaneous. She wouldn’t have believed that the mere touch of his lips could turn her so soft, relaxing every tension, turning her into a warm puddle.

  Like a butterfly seeking nectar, his lips and tongue brushed gently against hers, so gently it was almost maddening when she wanted so much more. Wrapping her arms tighter around his shoulders, she tried to urge him closer, to communicate how much more she wanted.

  “Easy,” he whispered, though once again she couldn’t tell if he was reminding himself or asking her. It didn’t matter. Something deep and strong was building in her, and she wasn’t going to do one single thing to shatter this moment.

  So she remained patient as he tasted her lightly, explored gently. She’d never had a kiss like this, so free of demand, as if asking and almost uncertain. But when his tongue at last slipped between her lips, every cel
l in her body responded.

  Heat swamped her in shimmering waves. Their tongues dueled as if this caress were the ultimate satisfaction. Such a kiss!

  Then his hands, which had been resting at her waist, moved. One of them slipped around, tugging her shirt up, slipping beneath it until she felt his calloused palm against the bare skin of her midriff. Warm, rough, yet so gentle. His other hand pulled her closer, even as he moved in to press himself to the throbbing heat between her thighs.

  She wanted more and her body signaled it, arching to press tighter to him, lifting her legs to wrap them around him. She felt open, soft, hard and hungry all at once. Heat bloomed throughout her. Breaths came in gasps.

  She felt her bra clasp twist, her breasts immediately spilling free of confinement. Then his hand found her there, too, brushing against her nipple over and over while he continued to plunder her mouth.

  She felt caught on an arc of fire, sizzling, electric jolts zapping from her mouth to her core, from her breast to her core. The pool of heat between her thighs turned to a heavy, hard ache, clenching and unclenching in time to his rapacious tongue.

  She felt his hips rock against hers, felt the hardness of him through all the layers of denim. The pounding in her blood grew deafening, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders needing some purchase as she spun free of gravity.

  Then his fingers pinched her nipple and she cried out, throwing her head back. The wave took her now, like a tsunami in its power. His kiss was gone, but immediately replaced by something even more powerful.

  As she arched backward, he supported her with his arm, while his other hand continued to toy with her breast, driving her to the edge of insanity. Then she felt the whisper of cool air, but before she had time to really notice it, his mouth clamped over her breast, sucking strong and hard.

  Her head bumped the cabinet above, but she barely noticed. She was riding a wild stallion at full gallop, and nothing could halt the cascade of hunger inside of her.

  With each pull on her breast, with each lash of his tongue on her tingling nipple, the undeniable rhythms in her pounded ever more strongly.

  Their hips met, again and again, the throbbing ache grew bigger and bigger. It was almost teasing with so much clothing in the way, enough and yet not enough, but what was happening inside her was not teasing. It was real, vital and explosive.