Page 16

Chapter sixteen

Decisions, decisions

Lorilei

I laid in bed all night, hoping he’d sneak into my room.

Why do I keep losing sleep because of him? Imagining his hands touching me, the firm press of his body against mine. How his stubbled jaw tickled my neck when he brushed up against me.

It’s like I’m dying a slow and painful death of longing, and he’s the only cure.

Could I be reading too much into this? Does he feel the same?

After a cold shower to try and quench this burning within me, my hair is in knots from all of the tossing and turning I did in bed. By the time I make it into Sophia’s room, she’s up on her crutches coming back from the bathroom.

“Oh, morning. I’m sorry I’m late!” I rush to her side and help her the last few feet to her bed.

“It’s okay! It felt good to get up on my own. I’m slowly getting better. I call it a win that I peed by myself.” She gives me a big smile that’s hard not to mirror.

She even has more color in her cheeks.

Why does it make my belly feel sour knowing my time here is limited?

“I bet it won’t be long before you’re running barrels again.” And I’ll be heading back to campus to finish a degree in a field I’m not interested in, to work in an office I hate.

What is wrong with me?

I’d rather be in a place like this. Trying new recipes is becoming a level of satisfaction I didn’t know I’d need.

Should I change my major? Would being a cook be better? Only if there’s a man like Mason standing behind me while I bake.

Ugh, that makes my thighs clench to think about.

“I can’t wait. I was so close to making it to the championships and going to Vegas this year.” Sophia flicks her phone and I watch her lips fall into a frown before she tosses it onto the table.

“What’s that about?” I pick up the stack of her dishes from last night and pause by the door.

Her hand waves idly before it falls over her eyes as she leans back against her pillows. “Fucking Cash. He’s such a dildo. He said he bought a new pickup and wanted to take me for a ride. Like that is all it’s going to take for him to not be a dick.” She lets out a long groan.

“What if he shows up?” I never considered that to be an issue until she mentioned him.

Shrugging, she grabs her water bottle. “I’d make Caesar bite him in the balls.”

I didn’t see the dog this morning. He’s probably out already with Mason.

Did he even come back last night?

Maybe he would have come into my room, but he’s been out on range.

I wonder what he’ll do when he gets back? It’d sure be nice to pick up where we left off.

“What’s that grin for?” Sophia breaks my thoughts of her father’s lips feathering on my neck.

The wave of heat works its way up my chest. “I was thinking about what to make for dinner tonight.”

“Those biscuits were so perfect! You’ve been holding out on me this whole time. I bet anything you pick will be delicious.” She reaches for her phone, then stops and grabs one of the books from the pile on the corner. “I can’t wait until I’m up and moving again. These are the only thing keeping me sane.”

“Up and reading is better than passed out because of pain. I bet your doc clears you for physical therapy soon. Then, there’ll be no holding you back.” I hate the pang of guilt that rockets through me for wishing she’d be bedridden just a little longer, so I’d have a good excuse to stay.

After easing her door closed, I busy myself with making breakfast and tidying up.

Sawyer pushes in with two cases of energy drinks and a pile of frozen pizzas.

“Morning. All set for your big night?” I take one of the grocery bags from his arm as he wrestles his duffel off his shoulder.

“Yea, I think we have a solid system going. We won almost all of our practice rounds last night.” His grin is as wide as Sophia’s after she peed by herself.

I guess it’s all about perspective.

“Thanks, Lori. I gotta go and get my chores done.” He bounces on his toes watching me put the last of his stuff into the freezer before he strides quickly back outside.

He looked just as giddy and nervous on the outside about his games as I feel on the inside every time I think about Mason.

I need to find something to get my mind off of him.

Dragging out the broom and mop, I start working my way out of the kitchen and down the hall.

It makes it easy when the whole house has wood floors.

My stomach flip flops standing outside of Mason’s bedroom.

I know he isn’t in there, or Caesar would be in the den sleeping on his bed.

But, what if he came back last night, and chose to not come to me?

Heat floods my cheeks.

Maybe he doesn’t think I’m worth it?

If only I was brave enough to actually say something. Then, he can just tell me “no.”

It’d be better than this back and forth nonsense I keep talking to myself with.

Buckling up the nerve, I push into his bedroom.

The lingering scent of his aftershave makes my heart race with a reinvigorated memory of his touch.

I want it again. It makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand up with goosebumps, like they’re reaching out trying to find him.

How can one person’s absence make me feel so…empty?

My heart drops when I see the crumpled blanket.

He was here.

After he pressed himself against me, wove his fingers between mine, he still passed my room to go to bed?

In defeat, my legs give out and I slump onto the disheveled mattress.

I’m an idiot.

A flicker of movement catches my eye from the nightstand. The curl of a page of his notebook catches the lazy air from the ceiling fan.

There’s a framed picture laying face down behind it. It must have tipped over.

Maybe he bumped it?

When I tilt it up, Carolyn’s smile shines up at me.

The metal edge snaps against the wood of the table when I let it fall.

I’m too transfixed with the notebook.

There’s only a handful of lines, and it seems to have been written in a hurry.

TO THE BAKER

Were I but a wheat seed

Crushed and milled to be sifted through your fingers

Kissing your cheek and dusting your hip

Kneaded beneath your warm palm

Melded and remade from the ministrations of your attention

I’d dive into the heat

For the chance to be touched by your divine lips

No.

It can’t be. For me?

Never. He couldn’t have.

I don’t believe it.

Fire rushes through my limbs and my stomach rolls.

I think I’m going to be sick.

Or scream.

He didn’t write this about me. Did he?

How do I find out? Walk up and ask him? Admit I was in his room and snooping through his stuff?

A cold wave shudders over me.

Is that why her picture is down?

I’m torn as to whether I should go ahead and sweep his floor or not.

He’d know I was in here.

But, if I don’t, maybe he’ll wonder why I didn’t?

My brain won’t stop spinning.

I’ll leave it for now, and maybe hit it in the morning. It’s time to start dinner anyway.

There’s a part of me that wishes he wasn’t Sophia’s dad. Then, I could run to her room and spill all of my pent up excitement and worry to her.

She’d be able to help me figure out what to do.

Except, it is her father.

Every single inch of his lean muscles and square jaw.

I must be going insane as a manic giggle erupts out of me while I walk the hall back to the kitchen. Pulling the leftover salad out of the fridge, I pause and stare at the bowl of biscuits. Were they the inspiration?

A man wrote a poem for me.

I think.

A groan echoes down the hall.

My sentiments exactly.

The slam of a door and stomping feet follow before Sawyer appears.

His mouth is twisted sideways and his forehead is furrowed so low I can barely see the blue of his eyes.

“Everything okay?” I’m just about done pulling the cooked bacon off of the pan for BLT’s.

“No. Dad called. He’s staying on range tonight, but he forgot to pack dinner.” His voice is growly as he steps past me to fling open the cupboard behind me.

When he glances up, I can see the shine of tears threatening to spill out.

Oh, man. It’s almost time for his big tournament.

“He can’t make it back to pick up some food?” Am I excited or nervous that he could be here tonight?

I’m not sure. Either one could be making me still feel like I need to vomit.

“Didn’t sound like it. He said that wood hadn’t been stocked, so he’s chopping for a fire.” He tosses down a few slices of bread and pulls out the peanut butter. “This sucks,” he mutters.

The picture that pops into my head of Mason without a shirt on swinging an ax almost makes my knees give.

“Well—” Do I really want to do this? “—why don’t you let me run it out to him? Just give me the directions.” What am I doing?

Alone, with Mason, and no chance of an interruption?

Yes, please. I can’t stand this not knowing.

Sawyer stops mid-stroke with his knife and looks up, blinking.

He stares for several seconds before his face falls. “No, it wouldn’t work. You can’t drive there. It’s only by horseback.”

I’m not sure I should argue. I have barely a dozen lessons on Hank. That has to be a huge difference between going in circles and striking out on a trail.

My shoulders rise and fall as I try to play off a nonchalant shrug. “Okay. It was an idea.”

I’m spooning lettuce onto Sophia’s plate when his head pops up again.

“What about Clover?” His blue eyes are wide. “She’s Sophia’s old mare. Heck, she was mine too when we were younger. She only has one speed, but she’s safe and easy to ride.”

The sudden change in my heartbeat nearly drowns out his words.

“Yea, I bet that would work. It’ll be easy to find him. You just follow the creek.” He drops his knife and starts running for the door.

“Where are you going?” I glance at the half-made sandwiches he’s left on the counter.

He throws a smile over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go saddle her up.”

The click of the latch drives home the reality of what I’m doing.

But, I have to know.

What was it Mason said to me? “Sometimes you gotta take a little risk for a big reward.”

He’s right.

I’m not showing up with peanut butter and jelly. Finishing what Sawyer started, I load them into baggies and stack them in the fridge. They’ll be easy snacks for later.

My hands shake when I pull out some of the leftover biscuits from last night. I’m not even sure if he got any, but I’m going to make sure he does.

They did turn out quite yummy.

A fire burns in my belly while I pack him food.

I want him to love it, to be so satisfied that he makes a groan deep in his chest as he savors every bite.

I wonder if he’ll make that noise if I kiss him?

My face flushes with heat that rivals the surface of the sun as Sawyer strides back into the kitchen.

“Did ya eat something spicy?” He grins at me before tugging open the freezer.

“No.” I just thought it instead. “Do you think she’ll do okay with me?” My nerves are giving me doubts.

“Oh, yea, she’ll be fine. I’ll give you my radio though. If you get in a pinch, you’ll be able to call Dad on it.” He pushes two of his frozen pizzas in the oven and flips out his phone to set the timer. “Shit. I mean, dang. The next round is getting ready to kick off. Clover is tied out front.” He flashes me a huge grin. “Thanks for saving my ass, Lori. I gotta run.”

Holy crap, my hands are shaking.

I guess, if I chicken out, I just give Mason his food and leave.

That’s my fallback option.

My mother used to tease me for going over options and making contingencies.

But, it’s gotten me this far.

I’ve just never planned on, well, anything like this before.

After a light knock and a deep breath, I head into Sophia’s room with her dinner.

“Hey, are you okay? Your face is all red.” Her smile droops and her eyebrows knit together.

I’ll take that option she’s offering. “I just have a headache. I think I’m going to turn in early.”

Yes. Lying to my best friend to sneak out to see her dad.

This is so wrong.

I can’t wait.

“Oh, no! Well, don’t worry about me tonight. I’m a free ranging gal now that I can pee on my own.” She flashes her teeth in a giggle as she takes her plate.

“Besides—” She pops a tomato piece in her mouth. “—I can call Sawyer if I need help.”

A jolt of panic pierces through me. I feign a little laugh. “If you can peel him away from his tournament.”

She groans and rolls her eyes. “I forgot about that.” Waving her hand around her head, she lets out a small sigh. “Only if the place is on fire. Or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Did you need a water refill before I go?” There’s a buzz of energy coursing through my limbs. I want to get out of here.

Her dark hair sways over her shoulder. “Nope. I’m good. Go get some rest. I just downloaded a new library app anyway.” She still has a tinge of tightness around her eyes when she looks up at me. “I hope you feel better in the morning.”

“Me, too, thanks. Good night.” God, I feel like I rushed out.

I probably did.

Should I change clothes? What do I wear instead?

Jeans, sure. I better change out of this t-shirt into something more…what? Revealing?

Why not just go naked, Lori.

Is that what I want?

That gives me pause.

Am I planning on sleeping with him?

Aren’t I supposed to save myself for “the one”? I don’t want to end up like my mother and her revolving door of men.

It feels like a tide breaks inside of me. A lifetime of worry and doubt snaps away.

Mason wrote a poem. About me.

He felt so strongly that he had to pour emotions onto paper.

When am I ever going to get that again?

“Yes, that deserves a special night.” I cup my breasts in the mirror and clip my laciest bra in place.

I didn’t exactly pack expecting to show off my underwear.

Enough stalling.

A green button down shirt will bring out my eyes. It’s cool enough for a jacket, so I don’t even know why I’m worrying about it.

Time to saddle up.

Grabbing the bag of food I’m using as my excuse, I head outside to be reckless.

Clover’s pale ears perk when I step out onto the porch.

It’s still warm in the late afternoon sun which makes me question my coat, but Sawyer did say it was along the creek.

“Hey, girl. Want to go for a ride?” Her soft cream color reminds me of butter pecan frosting.

I pull the reins around like Mason showed me, wishing his hands were cupping my thighs to give me a boost.

Thank goodness she’s shorter than Hank.

When I tug her head around, she takes a docile few steps forward, but then stops.

Well, poop.

It takes a few firm taps with my heels to get her moving again.

Sawyer wasn’t lying when he said she only has one speed. But, it’s probably for the better. It will give my nerves a chance to settle.

Crossing over the bridge behind the house, I follow the worn trail that hugs the bank of the creek. Large boulders are scattered often enough that Clover has to weave between them.

I doubt the side by side could even make it up this way. At least it’s wide enough for us to pass through easily.

Dusk settles in faster under the heavy shade of the trees. I’m glad I brought the extra layer. The chill helps to cool the scald running through my veins.

When the first whiff of wood smoke drifts to me, any sense of peace I had disappears. Knowing he’s close combines with the rhythmic rocking of the saddle between my legs, and my panties flood in anticipation.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

A thick copse of pines blocks my view, but in the dim light, I can see the flickers of a campfire dancing between the branches.

Clover gives a soft nicker, and from the far side of the clearing Hank replies to her.

The horses are drowned out by Mason’s deep voice cutting through the air. “Sawyer? Took you long enough, son.”

Ducking past the last of the boughs, the first thing I see is Mason’s tight ass in his Wranglers as he bends over, facing away from me, stacking wood next to the fire.

Despite the dipping temperature, he’s down to a T-shirt. It hugs his lean frame when he stands and turns.

Then freezes when his wide brimmed hat raises enough to see me.

Pulling Clover to a stop is easy. Her head dips to grab a mouthful of a low bush.

“Lori.” Mason’s hot breath clings to the air as he says my name in a long exhale. “Where’s Sawyer?”

“He had his big tournament tonight. So, I, um, offered to bring you some food.” My lower lip works between my teeth, looking down at him.

I want to scream and dive into his arms, but also to run away back to the house.

It locks me in place until he steps closer and takes hold of the side of my horse’s bridle.

Like I’ve done a dozen times before under his tutelage, I shift my leg over the saddle and hop down.

Maybe this was a mistake. I don’t know what to do, and it doesn’t seem like my words want to work.

My fingers are thick and clumsy trying to unclasp the leather pouch.

“How did she ride?” Mason’s hips tilt as he shifts his stance, burying his free hand into his pocket.

Pulling out the plastic bag with his dinner, I try to give a confident smile. I can feel it falter as I get closer. The dying sun makes his eyes almost glow with a golden heat that sears into me.

When he idly scratches the dark whiskers on his cheek, my gaze is drawn to the muscles of his clenched jaw.

Does he feel this suffocating weight, too? It’s like standing outside during a summer storm, when the night buzzes with the threat of lightning, making all of the fine hairs on my body stand up.

I want to think he does.

“She was slow and steady, just like Sawyer promised she’d be.” I hold out his meal like a shield in front of me.

How do I lower my defenses?

His chuckle is low and vibrates from somewhere in his chest. “She’s reliable that way.”

Our skin brushes with a sizzle when I hand him his meal.

Now, I don’t know what to do.

“Thank you.” His mouth thins and he glances up to the orange-streaked sky. “If you’re gonna be back before dark, you better get going.”

His brows knit as his gaze falls back to me.

Indecision makes my belly tighten. Or maybe that’s just what I do when he’s near.

My course becomes crystal clear. Screw it.

“Mason?” Why did my voice sound all husky when I left off the “sir”?

His nostrils flare almost imperceptibly as he lowers the bag to his side.

I don’t wait for his reply. “Can you keep a secret?”

The dark brim obscures his eyes for a moment, but he takes a half-step closer.

“Of course.” His throat sounds scratchy, too.

A quiver runs through my limbs when I utter the words that I’ve spent hours dredging up the courage to say. It’s just four syllables, but they may change my life forever. “I found the poem.”

My teeth are nearly chattering when I hear his sharp inhale and he turns his head, silhouetting his churning jaw against the flames.

“Did you mean it?” With weak knees, I find myself taking tiny movements to get nearer.

His chin drops, hiding his face behind his hat. “I did.”

I can’t read him. Does he want me to leave?

The brass of the bridle glints with a mirror of the fire when his hand lets go.

Clover ambles toward the next clump of grass, leaving us exposed, and standing perilously close.

“Can I, um—” I can’t catch my breath when I dare to let my palm touch his panting chest. “I just want to thank you.”

He tilts his head enough I can see the corner of his mouth raise. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Pushing myself up on my tiptoes, I close my eyes and touch his lips with mine.