Rancher's Deadly Risk Page 13

  “You’re already thinking about leaving.”

  She tried to see him, but it was too dark to do more than make out his silhouette. “It crossed my mind. But I’m not going to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I really want to put down roots, Linc. Really. It’s like there’s always been this place in my heart where I wanted to live, and life conspired to keep me away from it. I was always in busy metropolitan areas, larger towns. Places where you could blend in with the walls. I wanted something warmer.”

  “You can make a community anywhere,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be geographic.”

  “I know that. But I want a geographic community. I want to know who lives two blocks over, I want to recognize the people on the streets. I want to be able to greet most of them by name. Most places I’ve been, you can live in an apartment for a couple of years and barely recognize the people next door. You can rent a house in the suburbs and you’d think the neighborhood was empty. The front-porch culture seems to be gone.”

  “Not from here,” he admitted. “Although those of us out on ranches and farms have to make some effort. It helps, growing up here.”

  “Are you saying I can’t become part of this community?”

  “Not at all. It’ll happen. You might be referred to as the new teacher for a while, though.”

  She gave a small laugh. “That I can handle.”

  “Mainly what I’m trying to get at is that in some ways, even if you live here the rest of your life, you may feel like an outsider. But if you’re here a while, most of that will come from inside you.”

  She thought about that. “You might have a point.”

  “Maybe.” He left it at that.

  But he had stirred a memory in her and she recalled a study she had read in one of her psychology courses. “Children who move a lot,” she said, “have a tendency not to make the same kind of deep and long-lasting connections that people make when they grow up in one place.”

  “I know.”

  “So maybe I can’t make deep connections.”

  “I’m not saying you’re broken in some way. If you want to and make the effort, I’m sure you can. Even here, once this mess blows over.”

  “Why did you bring this up?”

  “I was just wondering. I grew up here. The only time I felt like an outsider was when I was away at college, and when I came back I was home. Your experience struck me as different and I wondered how it made you feel.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “And you want to change that.”

  “You bet I do.”

  “Then stick around. Don’t even think about leaving. It’s hard right now, but I can tell you from my own experience, it’ll be worth it. Despite the way things look right now, most folks around here are good people.”

  “I was thinking about that earlier. The way I was welcomed when I got here. I’ve never before had neighbors I hadn’t even met help me move, or bring over meals while I was settling in. That was a wonderful feeling.”

  “I know, even when you’re used to it. They do the same when somebody gets ill.”

  “Those are the things I need to concentrate on,” she said firmly. Then she added, “My hands are getting cold.”

  “Don’t you have gloves?”

  “I forgot them. Besides, I don’t have any really good ones for here, just some basic, not-too-warm ones I brought with me.”

  “Let’s go inside, then.”

  In the kitchen, he rinsed out their mugs and put them in the dishwasher. The dishwasher that inevitably reminded him of Martha. Damn. Well, he needed that warning right about now. He needed to get Cassie safely up into one of the bedrooms and close a door firmly between them.

  That proved to be easier thought than done. When he turned around, she was slipping off her jacket. The satiny blouse she wore emphasized the way her breasts thrust forward as she held her arms behind her back. And then she shook herself to get the jacket to slide down.

  Full breasts, bouncing slightly despite her bra. She seemed unaware that he turned and was looking. The sleeve slipped off one arm and she twisted to tug her jacket around.

  Temptation had never come in a lovelier, more enticing package. Her gently rounded shape was generous in all the right places. That little bit of plumpness that she probably hated—the way so many women did—only enticed him more. She would be soft beneath him, curvaceous in his hands. Hips, real hips, not like so many young women who could almost be mistaken for men from behind. His hands imagined how that fullness would feel and he hardened almost between one breath and the next.

  He nearly choked with the hunger he felt, the arousal that suddenly pounded through his veins. Who would have thought that watching a woman pull off a jacket could be so erotic? Not he.

  Then she turned to hang it over the back of a kitchen chair and he was treated to a full rear view. A rounded butt cased in denim, perfectly shaped. He was losing it.

  As if from a distance, almost deafened by the blood hammering in his ears, he heard himself say, “I meant it when I said you’re glorious.”

  Not beautiful, but something far more: glorious.

  She turned sharply, surprise on her face. Then he saw her expression melt into one of welcome, her gaze reflecting heat and delight at the same time. And then a flicker of disbelief.

  Why she should disbelieve that she was glorious had him beat all to hell, but he was in no mood to question her or discuss it. He chose to respond to her welcome and her heat.

  He was through fighting his desire for her.

  He was also past finesse. Without a word, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the front stairs.

  She gasped. “Linc! You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Cassie, you seem to have an exaggerated notion of your size.” It was true. He was strong, but she didn’t feel heavy in his arms. No, she felt good. His breathing grew deeper, his voice thicker, and he managed to say with his last ounce of sanity, “I’m acting like a caveman. Tell me to stop now, before it’s too late.”

  His heart almost stalled as he began climbing the stairs—a wide staircase, thank goodness, unlike many of the older houses around here—and she offered no response.

  Then, unmistakably, he heard her giggle softly. “I kind of like troglodytes.”

  Her answer exploded in his head, filling him with both wonder and a very deep pleasure. Then she lifted her arm and twined it around his neck.

  She was his. Just for now, she was his. The heat in him burgeoned, turning to flames that lapped at his every cell.

  At the top of the stairs he turned toward his bedroom, the very same room he had used since childhood. He’d never wanted to move into his parents’ room. It would have given him no extra space, since all the bedrooms were the same size, and it was loaded with memories. Including Martha, because Martha had taken it over. It had a better view, being on the corner of the house, and she’d even been pushing to have a private bath installed.

  He’d considered it, but it didn’t get past that before she left. Since then, the room had been off-limits except when he needed to go in and clean it.

  He hesitated a moment, wondering if taking Cassie in there would banish Martha forever, then decided he could find out another time. If there was another time.

  Instead he took her to his own room, with its footless queen-size bed, a small desk, a bedside table and a dresser. Furniture, except for the bed, that had been handed down. Only a night-light provided minimal illumination.

  He set Cassie down on her feet beside the bed, and bent his head to kiss her. She welcomed him without hesitation, opening her mouth to his, taking his tongue deep inside.

  And her curves, ah, her curves. There was nothing to stop him now, and he ran his palms over her, over her shoulder and back, down to that luscious rump, learning every hill and hollow. Rounded softness greeted him.

  A soft little moan escaped her, and her hands gripped his shoulders, digging in a
s if she feared falling. A primitive sense of triumph overtook him as he realized she was his, fully his. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything.

  He released her mouth, giving them both a chance to breathe, then dove in again. This time his hands sought other curves. Their tongues dueled in a timeless rhythm as his hand found her breast and squeezed. It was everything he had imagined, full and firm and so damnably cased in clothing.

  But as he ran the flat of his hand across the peak of her breast, she arched her hips into his, the message unmistakable. She was ready.

  He was, too, but he wanted it to last. He wanted to learn every bit of her landscape, to discover her every secret, to find the promise she offered without even realizing it.

  He turned her a bit so that she was bent slightly over his left arm, and tugged her blouse free of the waistband of her jeans. Slipping his hand beneath, he found warm skin softer than satin. She shivered at his touch, and clung harder to his back.

  Perfect, he thought. Exquisite. Everything about her, from the scent of her soap and shampoo, to the chocolaty taste that lingered in her mouth. A hint of feminine perfume, and a musky aroma that was strengthening, signaling her need.

  He clutched her hip, pressing her side against his throbbing erection for one long, aching moment. Then his hand began to forage along the edge of her bra, seeking treasure.

  “Linc...” she gasped, and the sound of her voice pounded in his ears along with the drumbeat of his blood.

  Then the phone rang.

  Chapter 7

  “Damn!” He swore sharply as the mood shattered like so much spun glass.

  Cassie blinked, feeling the desire vanish as if it had been blown away by an internal tornado. “Linc?” she said, her voice a cracked whisper. Coming back to reality proved unexpectedly difficult.

  “I’m sorry. It’s well past midnight. It must be an emergency.”

  She nodded, and was touched when he steadied her as she sat on the edge of the bed. The shrilling phone was on the night table, and he snatched it up.

  “Linc Blair.” He didn’t sound very patient. She watched him, still feeling the hunger even though it had been damped almost to quietude by the startling interruption. She hoped it wasn’t an emergency, because if he turned and took her into his arms again, she was going to explode like a banked fire that had only been waiting for fresh fuel.

  But she saw his posture change. His shoulders dropped a little. “But he’s all right?” Then he said, “Thanks for calling.” He put the phone down.

  He turned, his face an unreadable mask as if he couldn’t decide what he felt. “This couldn’t have waited until morning? Like there’s damn all we can do about it?”

  “What happened, Linc?”

  “That was Les. James Carney is in the hospital. He tried to kill himself earlier.”

  “Oh, my God.” As the import of his words hit home, nausea rolled through her in waves and she doubled over. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”

  The bed dipped as Linc sat beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and she turned into his embrace. Shock flowed through her in hot and cold waves.

  “He’s all right,” Linc repeated over and over. “He’s all right.”

  “He’s alive,” she said brokenly, as tears began to flow. “Alive and all right aren’t the same.”

  “I know, Cassie.” His murmur was soothing and pained all at once. “But at least there’s still a chance to help him.”

  “Where there’s life there’s hope?” She repeated the old saw, then gave way to a sob. “Oh, God, Linc, it hurts. It hurts to know how badly he must have suffered. That he would think of this as a solution.”

  He held her even tighter, rocking her gently, letting her cry it out. The news about James, she realized, had been like a last straw to the stress of the past week. It was all coming out now, her worry for the student, her uneasiness about the attacks against her. But mostly she wept for James. For all she had been through at times, never had she thought that killing herself was her only way out. She couldn’t stand to imagine how that youth must be feeling.

  Eventually she realized that she had soaked Linc’s shirt with her tears. “I’m sorry,” she said thickly, trying to pull away and wipe her face. But he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Don’t apologize,” was all he said.

  She realized he sounded angry. “Are you mad at me?”

  “You? No way. But I’m pretty damn angry with some other people right now. Livid.”

  Anger hadn’t come to her yet. Hurt and fear, yes, but not anger. Even some weariness somewhere deep inside, because this wasn’t the first time she had encountered depravity in some people. A teacher soon learned how many children were living in terrible circumstances, how many lived daily with fear, poverty and hunger. The secrets they carried and tried so hard to conceal, yet that were written in their behavior and misbehavior even if they denied anything was going on.

  But she’d never had a student attempt suicide before.

  Guilt slammed her then, overtaking sorrow. Had she somehow been responsible for this because of her intervention? Because she hadn’t just walked away after stopping the bullying in the restroom, but had instead caused those four students to get detention?

  What she had seen had been bad enough, but had she made it worse? Knowing the way some people thought, it was entirely possible that they’d bullied James even more to make sure he never spoke about what they had done and were doing.

  Her stomach grew leaden, and agitation caused her to jump up from the bed and pace the room. Linc reached over to switch on a lamp, probably so she wouldn’t stumble against something, but he remained seated on the edge of the bed.

  “Do you know how twisted this is?” she demanded.

  “What’s twisted?” he asked. “Other than the bullying you and James Carney have been getting.”

  “That I may have made things worse for James by intervening. What do you do when nothing works? It’s like being caught in a spiderweb! I try to protect a student, and it only makes it worse?”

  “You don’t know that,” he said quietly. “Cassie, there is no way on earth you can know if you made things worse. What were you supposed to do? Ignore it? Obviously the bullying has been ignored too much and for too long, because it’s evidently going on. Without a crackdown, it won’t stop. But you can’t blame yourself because you did the right thing.”

  “I can’t? Why not? If my action resulted in that boy being bullied even more, why can’t I blame myself? God, I feel like a fool. I didn’t even pause to consider when I stepped in that I might make it harder on him. I was stupid.”

  “No.”

  “No? Of course I was. I saw something and reacted without considering all the possible consequences. I didn’t mediate, I just told the four bullies to get to the principal’s office.”

  “Where Les, and you, would have attempted to find out what was behind all this. Mediation. But you didn’t get the chance. James even told you to stay out of it.”

  “He was right. Look what’s happened.”

  Linc rose. “I’m sorry, Cassie, but I don’t agree with how you feel. If nobody ever intervenes for fear of making it worse, we’ll never stop it. And right now, you don’t even know if it got worse. He may have been contemplating suicide for some time, from what his grandmother told you.”

  “But what made him do it now?”

  Linc rose, speaking quietly but firmly. “I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

  “If anyone will talk to you,” she said almost bitterly. A sense of responsibility nearly suffocated her. Breathing had become an effort as her chest grew tight and her stomach twisted. “God, I need to do something!”

  A useless wish, she thought as her mind and body roiled with reaction. It was the middle of the night. What the hell could she possibly do right now? As it was, doing something may have made matters worse for a young man.

&n
bsp; “I’ll get us some coffee,” Linc said. “Then we’ll go to the hospital. If the family is still there, we can let them know they aren’t alone.”

  Now she felt guilty in another way. “You have a game tomorrow. Today. This afternoon. You need some sleep.”

  “It won’t be my first sleepless night with a game looming. Let’s go.”

  Soon they were driving down the dark tunnel of the endless night again with a couple of travel mugs filled with hot coffee. Cassie’s eyes burned, wanting to shed more tears. But along with guilt, anger had begun to grow in her. A terrible anger, as bad as she’d ever felt.

  Logically she knew the people involved in bullying James and trying to frighten her were probably a very small number. Most of the people around here, or anywhere, wouldn’t do this kind of thing. Most people were actually decent. They might sometimes be unaware, but they weren’t deliberately cruel and wouldn’t approve of deliberate cruelty.

  That was the point of the antibullying campaign, to raise awareness. To make the students understand that it was happening, and sometimes it got far worse than the minor insults most endured. By making them aware of how tolerating even minor bullying could create a climate that allowed it to grow. Consciousness-raising. It worked.

  Especially with students of this age, most of whom usually already felt all alone, and if bullied would probably feel ashamed, as if they were somehow responsible. As if something were wrong with them and not the bullies. She knew the feeling all too well.

  By making more of them aware, they wouldn’t feel alone and wouldn’t feel that being bullied was their fault. The other hope was to create such an atmosphere of disapproval for bullying that there would be far less of it.

  But all of that would come too late for James Carney. Over and over she reran the incident in her mind, trying to figure out what she could have done differently. Because she was absolutely convinced that she hadn’t done something she should have.

  No, it wasn’t a matter of ignoring what those four students had been doing to James. It was a matter of not doing enough of the right thing. Whatever that right thing was.