One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) (11 page)

“Come on.” He linked their arms, pulling her close until she bumped into his side. “You’ll love this, Fifi.”

She followed him down the path, entranced by the lights, and swoony from Tucker’s fresh, soapy scent and the feel of his solid arm under her hands. The path curved, dirt turning to stone beneath their feet. Sophie looked down to see large pavers leading to a staircase.

“What’s this?”

“Look up.” Tucker nudged her arm and pointed. The staircase led to a deck that lit up the same as the path had, the length of it winding around two huge trees, once, twice, leading upward to a structure nestled between the branches.

“Is that a…tree house?”

“Mmmhm.” Tucker walked up the stairs to the deck. Taking her hand again, he led her up the staircase. The farther they went, the more lights came on. Sophie trailed her fingers around the bark of the trees as they walked, glancing up into the shadowy canopy partially blocked by the wide structure above. One last turn and they were at a sliding glass door and Sophie’s middle clenched in sweet anticipation.

Tucker grabbed the door handle and more solar lights popped on, bathing them in a golden aura. He ushered her in ahead of him, closing the door softly as he entered. Crossing the room, Tucker grabbed battery-operated lanterns from the windowsill and flicked them on. The room was small, with a wicker loveseat and battered-looking wooden rocking chair in the middle of the room, arranged around a thick braided rug. A portion of tree trunk was visible and Sophie laughed when she saw that someone had used paint to create a fake fireplace, complete with orange flames, on the bark.

The tree house wasn’t a shabby construction attempt. It was anything but. Smooth, shiny hardwood floors looked like they’d been professionally finished, four large windows carefully lined with trim. White molding edged the ceiling, rosettes meeting in each corner. It was a grown-up version of a childhood escape.

“Look up,” Tucker said, pointing.

Above, a large clear panel offered an uninhibited view of the night sky. The branches above had either been cut away or parted just so, to let the sky in.

“Wow!” Sophie made a little circle, amazed that no matter which way she turned, she had a complete view of the night sky. Tucker wrapped his arms around her back and held her tight. Sophie trembled at the sweet, intimate way he held her. His lips dipped to her neck just below her ear. Her fingers tightened around his arms as Tucker nipped her neck, drawing out pings of pleasure with a sweet tug of pain. The contact opened a reserve of joy inside. One she’d long forgotten. In that moment, everything felt peaceful and calm and quiet inside her.

“Tucker,” she started, but cut off with a hiss when one big hand slid the strap of her dress over her shoulder. Trying to pull out of the fog, Sophie twisted in his arms. “Tuck, wait.”

He spun her against the fireplace-tree. Her hands went out against the bark in response. Before she could utter a syllable, Tucker’s middle leaned into her ass and his hands were smoothing up her thighs, pushing her skirt up to her hips. He reached around and let the tie loose at her waist. The wrap dress parted, baring her front.

“Do you really want me to wait?” He nuzzled her hair out of the way with his face, trailing hot kisses over the back of her neck. Her body didn’t want him to, but her heart did.

Sophie’s palms pressed into the bark. “I want to know what we’re doing.”

Tucker grabbed her hips and drew her roughly against him. “I’m pretty sure you know what we’re doing.” His voice rumbled against her shoulder, his right hand smoothing around her middle and up to her breast. Before she could answer, his fingers slid beneath her bra and squeezed her nipple. Sophie bucked, dipping her head against the tree with a moan. He thrust his erection against her ass, palming her breast with another sharp pinch. Tucker was a maelstrom of touching, pulsing sensation, and Sophie didn’t know if she’d ever get enough of his intensity.

“Between us. I’m not staying in Montana, probably…and, oh god…”

He bit her shoulder, crossing a hand to her other breast and pulling her nipple. Fire and ice collided on her skin and raced like gremlins over her nerves. She moaned, head thrown back as her brain crossed the threshold between restraint and not caring. His hands stopped and, in a flash, the only thing moving was Tucker’s pounding heartbeat reverberating over her back like a drum.

…

He wanted to pull away from her, but he couldn’t. All the care he’d taken to avoid this very problem. Never letting a woman get too close—never keeping one around long enough to get within an inkling of falling in love. But her question was open ended and he wasn’t sure how to answer because nothing he said would be completely true. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted. Tucker’s cock jumped, screaming at him to lather himself all over Sophie and forget about problems. She sighed, a full-bodied, sad sound that made his heart race even faster. He didn’t want her to be sad. He didn’t want her to hurt, and he sure as hell didn’t want her to fall for him, either.

“I can’t do more than sex, Sophie.” The words were meant to be a warning, but failed miserably. It was the easy way out, but better for her. He wasn’t relationship material. Hell, he didn’t even know if he
could
do a relationship even if he wanted to. Intimacy he knew and even though he’d broken his own damn rule about never keeping the same woman around, he had let it slide. Because, if nothing else, he needed this.

His hands began a slow draw over her ribs. He shouldn’t touch her, but all the demons in hell couldn’t stop him. She moaned, her body softening.

Her breathy voice stung him. “Good.”

A surge of control pulsed through him. Good? What the hell did that mean? It should have given him relief that she wasn’t in this for more, but…it didn’t. Tucker shook off the disappointment. He was in control, and this would go his way because there wasn’t another option. With a growl, he nudged Sophie against the tree until her arms buckled and her forearms rested against the bark. He took a long look at her naked ass, the soft round globes of her cheeks pale against the red triangle of her silky thong. He pulled the sides of the thong down, watching that little slip of fabric dance over her rear and collect against her thighs.

Her slight cry sounded like protest and encouragement rolled into one vibrating exclamation. Testing her, Tucker slid a hand between her thighs, gracing her soft curls with the side of his hand. She parted her legs immediately, and he smiled, feeling wicked and angry and wanting. Gripping the bunched dress in his left hand to hold her steady, he plunged two fingers inside her. Tucker swore. She was drenched, blasting heat and sweet wetness around his hand. Sophie leaned back, pressing her hips harder into the invasion.

“Sophie,” he growled, losing his voice as he nipped the skin over her spine. He found her slick nub, rubbed it until she ground down against the pressure. Holy shit, it wouldn’t take much to make her come. Tucker’s groin pulled, his lower abdomen clenching with heat. This is what he craved. This primal sex, the way she gave herself up to him. Sophie was woman enough to take what she wanted from him and strong enough to tell him when he was crossing the line. It was a sexual tug-of-war and he needed it like air.

Damn her.

He stroked her fast with just enough pressure to make her pant and groan and swivel her hips in time with his hand. He palmed her breasts, kissed her neck, while he struggled with a storm he refused to give name to.

“Why won’t you…oh god,” Sophie panted. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”

Tucker pulled back from her clit, sliding his fingers inside her tight center with slow precision. The question floored him, but he wasn’t going to give in. He was going to stay in control of this if it killed him.

“No touching.”

When she breathed to speak again, he added another finger and thrust them hard. She sucked in a breath, uttered something nonsensical as he thrust again, harder until she cried out, her legs nearly giving way. Tucker braced her around the waist with an arm, pulling her back against his straining cock.

“No more talking.” His fingers slid over her nub, resuming the strokes he knew unraveled her. The cadence of sound pouring out of her was the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. God, he’d never get tired of hearing her come.

“Tucker!” Sophie pressed her cheek against the tree. Her nub swelled beneath his fingers and Tucker closed his eyes, leaning low over her body so he could absorb every vibration, every soft sound.
Too fast
, he thought suddenly.
She’s coming too fast
.

He pulled his hand away, taking a second to gather his breathing and get control. The ground seemed to spin, lifting him up into a funnel of pure adrenaline and lust. Sophie mewled in protest, her hips pushing back against him, seeking. She was panting for him, her body humming for him. He let his jeans open and slide down. One hand slid up her back, raking his nails back down as goose bumps claimed her skin. His other hand gripped her right hip as he brought them together. The movement of her chest caught and held as he slid inside. Sophie clenched tightly around him as she fought for her own control.

Tucker dipped his forehead to her back as his arm braced around her middle and he held them, connected in all ways, hearts beating in tandem. Her breath came out agonizingly slow; Tucker’s chest clenched at the methodical slowness of it. When she muttered something that sounded like begging, he gave in, moved in long, hard thrusts. Sophie came undone, her arms braced against the tree as her bottom pressed against him again and again, seeking and finding, as her entire body seemed to release at once.

Tucker followed, coming hard to the furious pound of his heart and sudden weakness in every muscle. She’d reduced him to a boneless mass of feelings.
Jesus Christ.
He followed her to the floor, his arms banded around her, his body arched possessively over hers. A boom sounded above them. For a second, Tucker thought it was his heart.

“Fireworks,” Sophie said quietly. She turned in his arms and pulled the flaps of her dress together. Tucker kissed her forehead and ran his fingers over the soft, milky white of her jaw. Still shaking, Tucker righted his clothes, helped Sophie do the same. And then they sat in the middle of the floor and looked up.

A crackle, a sparkle, and a burst of red, and blue and yellow shattered above the skylight. Another boom, another vibration. Another brilliant display of color. A bright white explosion lit the sky followed but a series of quick multi-colored sparks. Sophie leaned her head on his shoulder and the war Tucker was fighting inside shattered like the night sky.

Chapter Twelve

Tucker paused at Sophie’s front door. She stepped inside, tugging his hand, but he couldn’t follow her. Pulled between frustration at his own weakness and the need to put distance between them, he allowed Sophie to lead him to the door, but that was far enough. If he went any farther, he might not leave.

Her face was lightly flushed, her eyes glowing with deep contentment. He could lose himself in her expression and roll around on the peaceful air surrounding her. There was something soft and comforting about Sophie that Tucker was starting to need. He thought about it in the middle of the night when he reached out and half-expected her to be lying there. He thought about it when he worked all day long, under the sun, the rain, the overcast sky. It didn’t matter. Sophie was on his mind constantly and it was driving him mad. He didn’t have time for this, but he sure as hell didn’t know how to make it stop. Her time to leave Paint River couldn’t come fast enough, as far as he was concerned. Out of sight, out of mind, he had no doubt.

“Do you want to stay a while?” She kicked off her sandals. The straps slid slowly over her delicate ankles and down to the tips of her blue-painted toenails.

Tucker licked his lips, forcing his gaze to settle on the generic wall art above the flat screen television. “I can’t stay.”

She tucked hair behind one ear, showing off the peachy flush on her cheek. Long eyelashes fluttered over her eyes, but not before he saw the disappointment there.

“Okay.”

She tucked hair on the other side, revealing a scuff on her cheek that looked remarkably like stubble-burn. Tucker touched his jaw, knowing full well he’d shaved before he picked her up tonight. With a cascade of guilt, he recalled pushing her against the tree. She’d cried out; he’d thought it was from passion. Tilting his head to get a better view of the angry scratch, he realized he’d hurt her.

Hurt her. Ground her face into the tree trunk, blinded by his desperate need for her and oblivious to the fact he was rubbing her skin over the bark like a cheese grater.
You dickhead
, he scoffed internally,
thinking about yourself, not her
. A selfish, bastard move.

His fingertips snaked out to trail along the edges of the abrasion. Sophie jerked at his touch, her hand curling around his. “What is it?”

“You…have a scratch.” His emotions often burst into full potency before he even knew what was happening. When he felt, he
felt
. Turning inward was his method of choice for dealing with emotions he didn’t want to face or let loose. Being with her in the tree house brought out feelings swore he’d never feel again. Instead of facing it, he drowned them out by allowing his lust for her overtake everything. And he’d hurt her—his selfish need hurt her. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t risk that he would hurt her more in some way, and watch the light in her eyes turn dark.

“Is it bad?” She scowled.
Yes it’s bad
, he wanted to shout. This was bad. His most potent fears were seeing the light of day: if he let someone get too close, he’d hurt them, push them away, and make them want to run, with his temper, his selfishness, his indifference. Allowing lust to overtake Sophie proved it. Her face proved it. He wasn’t capable of caring for someone else this way, of having to worry about their best interests or what they might want or need. Looking out for himself and his family was enough. There wasn’t room for Sophie, not when it meant he’d likely end up crushing her, the way his father crushed everyone around him.

“Sophie,” Tucker faltered with the release of her name. The sound of her cell phone ringing saved him from forcing the rest out. She jumped and grabbed the phone off the arm of the sofa. Glancing at the number with a furrowed brow, she looked apologetically at him.

“I’ve got to take this,” she waved with her fingers. “I’ll see you later.” Then Sophie turned her back and answered the call. Tucker frowned. Phone call or no phone call, he had to cut their ties. She’d dismissed him instead of offering him to wait until her call was done, a good sign, he thought, that maybe she needed space from him. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one. Turning and walking out, Tucker locked Sophie’s door from the inside before closing it. First thing in the morning, he’d tell her they were done. He’d had what he wanted, and this had gone far enough.

Still, the abrasion on her face killed him. He’d been too rough with her; too selfish with his own desire. For years, he’d run interference on all the nasty shit that went down behind the scenes at Paint River. Through it all, he stood rock-solid and absorbed the emotions of his family like the ground took in a beating storm. He didn’t offer advice or comfort really, because he didn’t know how other than to just
be
there—to be present—and, for the most part, that seemed to be enough.

So shoot him that he went where he wanted, did what he wanted to do, and answered to no one. Damn fine, that kind of freedom. No woman to tie him down; tell him when to be home or ask where he was going. No kids to worry about. There was nothing to answer to except the occasional face-off with Cole, and the demands of the ranch. That he could handle. The ranch didn’t get emotional or want to cuddle, for God’s sake, or need a hug. The cows and horses did what he wanted them to, and if they didn’t cooperate? He’d just kept on them until they cracked.

He liked his life this way, and it wasn’t going to change. Because he’d loosened up a little with Sophie, and look what happened. She had a big old scratch on her beautiful face, and proved exactly why he needed to stay away.

…

Dazed didn’t even begin to describe how Sophie felt as she ran into the hospital, nearly knocking Carla over as she rushed into her mother’s room.

“What the hell, Sophie?” Carla shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders, a furious twist on her lips. Deep lines branched out from the corners of Carla’s brown eyes. “How many times did I call you? How many times?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Sophie stammered, desperate to get out of Carla’s grip so she could get to their mother’s bedside. “I didn’t have my phone with me.” Guilt grabbed her by the throat. Sophie tried to shake it off and force her composure into submission, but her heart was the submissive one. Guilt was a heavy master and she was bowing deeply under its weight.

She’d known better than to attempt to lighten up her life. Tucker was a sweet distraction, but she’d taken him too far. Instead of paying attention to what her mother might need, or what might happen, she’d been wrapped up in a six-foot-three cowboy with magic hands and a sizzling wit that made her feel like maybe, maybe, life could be enjoyable again. Like maybe there was hope.

And then her mother had been rushed to the hospital—had needed her—and Sophie hadn’t been there. Again.

Carla’s fingers dug into Sophie’s shirt, abrading fabric against flesh. “She could have died and you wouldn’t have been here.” She stormed into the bedroom, leaving Sophie panting under a wet blanket of heavy conscious. When she’d seen Carla’s phone number flash on her phone, Sophie knew something had happened. Tucker was all but forgotten as her sister’s words slammed into her:
significant stroke…brain hemorrhage…blood clot…
For the second time in one day, she’d driven blinded by emotion to her mother’s bedside.

Arms crossed over her heart, Sophie padded softly into Violet’s room. The lights were low and soothing, while a cardiac monitor beeped softly next to the bed. Violet lay still and ghostly, her skin a shade lighter than it had been that morning. Deep gray crescents lay in the hollows beneath each eye, her cheeks deeply pitted beneath facial bones that shouldn’t have been poking out that far. Sophie crouched down beside the bed and gingerly took her mother’s hand, afraid to squeeze or apply any pressure lest she shatter the fragile bones.

Carla was slowly pacing the room. “The blood clot moved. The doctor said it’s only a matter of time now.” The floor wobbled beneath Sophie’s feet. She grabbed the mattress to steady herself.

“The clot didn’t cause the stroke, but it moved into a spot that will eventually cause another one. A bigger one.” Carla’s sad eyes caught Sophie’s over the bed. Her lowered voice was barely audible. “A month, maybe a little more, maybe less. Dr. Peterson said we should be prepared for her to slip quietly, when the time comes.”

Looking at her mother was too painful. Sophie’s gaze slid to the cardiac monitor. Her brain sank into the soft green glow of the screen and the black blips creating a little graph with every beat of Violet’s heart. Sophie was familiar with the monitor, had used one similar on the ambulance. Right now it was a distraction instead of soothing proof that, if nothing else, her mother’s heart was strong.

A strong heart wouldn’t save her when the clot lodged itself inside a vein and stopped blood flow. Nothing would save her then.

“They are moving her back to the nursing home tomorrow.” Carla’s voice jostled the tears building inside Sophie’s chest. They rose like an inverted waterfall up her throat and fell from her eyes. Violet had a do-not-resuscitate order, a directive she’d made legal when she was healthy, that no life-saving measures should be taken to prolong her life. Since she’d be waiting out her last moments on earth, without intervention, there was no reason to stay in the hospital. Sophie let her tears fall, managed a short nod of understanding.

They sat in silence in the dim light. Monitors beeped, voices spoke in low tones outside in the hallway. Sophie watched the floor as tears dripped off her nose, grateful her sister couldn’t see. Tears came more often for her than Carla, had as long as she could remember. It was just another reason for Carla to scoff, and though life had toughened Sophie greatly in her adult years, she didn’t want her sister to see an old weakness.

Finally, Carla cleared her throat. “I’ve requested the garden room for Mom at the nursing home. It’s the best room in the facility—complete with a private one-on-one nurse, and a full view of the Japanese gardens. I already made the down payment so she can be moved as soon as it’s available.”

Sophie quietly wiped her face with her hands. “I didn’t know there was a garden room.”

“She loves gardens; she’ll love this room.” Sophie couldn’t argue, despite the fact that Violet would never waken to see the room, or the garden. If there was peace and comfort to be found there, Sophie knew that would be good enough.

“It’s expensive, Sophie.” Carla stood and looked out the window overlooking the city. “I’m going to need you to help me out a little more.” Sophie paused with her mouth half open. A strangled sound made its way past her lips, her hands splaying wide. Money, at the moment, was cause for white-flag waving panic. She didn’t have any and didn’t have a way of getting more.

“Carla, I’ve given you everything I have.” She looked up, caught her sister’s hard gaze. Whispering, her voice thick with tears, Sophie shook her head, “I’m broke.” Even as she said the words, Sophie knew she’d find a way. Violet deserved the best. If she could make her mother’s last days peaceful and sublime, Sophie knew she’d donate her own organs to make it happen.

“Sophie, we agreed that we’d split all of this fifty-fifty.”

Sophie gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ll figure it out.” She scratched the back of her neck. Carla sighed deeply and turned back to the window. “Good old resourceful Sophie.” Her condescending tone cut Sophie deep and, if she weren’t so upset, she would have given in to anger. Instead, she resumed rubbing the back of Violet’s hand with her thumb. Scooting back in her chair a bit, Sophie leaned over the mattress until her head tucked against her mother’s arm, just as she used to do as a child.

“Are you finally going to stay in Missoula?” Carla’s soft voice had a slight waver. Sophie didn’t look up. She let her cheek sink into the soft mattress that smelled like antiseptic and baby powder. She hoped that Violet’s nightgown might smell like her old perfume, but the scent of hospital and stringent laundry detergent permeated the fabric.

“Yes.” She closed her eyes. She sank into her mother’s faint warmth and the steady but slow rhythm of her breathing. Even if she had a job to go back to, Sophie knew there was no way in hell she could leave now. She’d left too many times before when she should have stayed. There wasn’t time to make the wrong choice anymore.

Violet had taken care of her and Carla all these years as a single mom. No, now it was all about Violet. There wasn’t room for anything else. With a deep sigh, Sophie felt the last of her tears dissolve as a plan started to form in her brain. A plan that included a lot of work and no time for Tucker. Best to break it off now so she could dive in headfirst and be the daughter her mother desperately needed.

A light touch on her shoulder made Sophie look up. Carla stood next to her with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“You’ll stay with me a couple days, okay? Until we get her settled back at the rest home?”

Wordlessly, Sophie reached up and gripped Carla’s hand. Carla’s fingers went rigid, her flesh cool, but she didn’t pull away. After a moment, her hand softened and Sophie squeezed it harder as they each gave in to their own quiet storms of emotion.