RODNEY SAT AT the kitchen table while Colie rushed around to fix a meal for him and her father. He was quiet and somber.
“You shouldn’t get mixed up with J.C.,” Rodney said out of the blue.
She glanced at him. “Why?”
“He’s a loner.”
“So am I,” she pointed out.
His jaw set. “He’s judgmental. You ever step out of line, do anything he doesn’t like, and he’ll walk right out of your life and never look back.”
She paused as she mashed potatoes. “Is that what happened to you?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Rod?”
“I just mentioned that a friend of mine liked to smoke weed and I didn’t see anything wrong with it,” he said. “So, J.C. doesn’t go around with me anymore.”
Her heart jumped. “Rod, I do see something wrong with drugs,” she told him. “I see the result of drug use every single day in my job. Families are destroyed by it. People die. It always starts with a gateway drug. Marijuana is the gateway.”
“They should legalize it, then it wouldn’t cause so much trouble.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said?” she asked him. “Anything that distracts when you’re driving, even an aspirin tablet, can cause a wreck! Imagine if drugs were legal and people could use them anytime they pleased. What a world that would be. A nightmare world.”
“You’ve seen worst case scenarios,” he scoffed. “A little mild drug use never hurt anybody.”
She glared at him.
He glared back.
Their father walked into the kitchen. He’d been visiting members of the congregation. He sat down beside Rod. “Something smells good,” he remarked.
“Steak and mashed potatoes. I’m feeding you two early because I’m going out with J.C.” She glanced at her father as she said it, and her rigid expression added an emphasis to the statement. She wasn’t going to argue, she was just going to do it.
The reverend just smiled sadly. “Okay,” he said. “It’s nice of you to cook for us. We could have had cold cuts. I wouldn’t have minded.”
“Me, neither,” Rod said belatedly, and managed a smile for his sister. “You take such good care of us, sis. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“You’d manage,” she said simply.
“We’d starve,” Rod said, glancing at his father. “I can’t boil water, and I remember painfully the one time you tried to make breakfast,” he added.
The reverend grimaced. “Well, I trained at seminary, not cooking school,” he said mildly. “I can at least make toast.”
“If you scrape off the burned parts,” Rod said behind a feigned cough.
Reverend Thompson chuckled. “I guess so.”
“And there it is,” Colie said, putting platters of food on the table, which was already set. “I have to get ready. J.C.’s picking me up at six. We’re going to eat something I don’t have to cook,” she teased.
“Cook’s night out,” the reverend said, nodding as he picked up a fork. “You’ve certainly earned it. This is delicious, Colie.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” She dropped a kiss on his head and winked at Rod as she went to feed Big Tom before she went to her room to dress.
* * *
J.C. WAS PROMPT. Colie met him outside, sliding into her coat just before she climbed up into the SUV with his help.
“Running from trouble, are we?” he teased as he got in behind the wheel.
“Avoiding it,” she replied. She laughed. “Rod and I had a little tiff before Daddy came home. Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into my brother lately. He’s...weird.”
He didn’t reply. He pulled out into the main road and drove out toward the general direction of Ren’s ranch.
“You’ve noticed it, too, but you don’t want to say anything bad about your best friend,” she said with sudden insight.
He glanced at her with raised eyebrows.
She shrugged. “I know, I’m weird. My grandmother had visions.”
“So did mine,” he replied.
“Did they come true?”
“Most have. One hasn’t, at least, not yet.” He glanced at her with a smile. “I told you about it, at the casino.”
She nodded. “I told you about mine, too.” She laughed and made a mock shiver. “We come from strange people, I guess.”
He reached for her hand and held it. “We come from gifted people,” he corrected with a smile. “And I don’t think you’re strange.”
“Thanks.” She stared at him. “I just love to hear you talk,” she confessed. “You have a voice like deep velvet, J.C. It’s...well, sexy.”
He chuckled. “That’s a first.”
“Oh, I see, women are too busy telling you how gorgeous you are, so they don’t notice your voice.”
“There’s not that much talking.”
She went quiet.
His hand contracted. “And that could have been better put. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I knew you had women.”
“Not anymore,” he said suddenly. “Not since you came along. I told you that, and I meant it. I never lie.”
She drew in a slow breath. The feel of his fingers curling into hers made her tingle all over. “I try not to lie. Well, I didn’t tell Mrs. Joiner that the dress she was wearing was too tight and too short for a woman in her forties, or that you could see everything she had when she stood in the light. I guess that was lying by omission...”
He chuckled. “She goes to your church, I guess.”
“She’s the pianist,” she replied, shaking her head. “She’s not the sort of person to be brassy, but her cousin bought her a dress and she didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so she wore it to church.” She grimaced. “It was really sad. I didn’t say anything, but the choir director did. Mrs. Joiner went home in tears. Daddy had to go smooth things over. He’s good at that.”
“He has a kind heart,” J.C. said. “I respect him.”
Colie wished her father felt like that about J.C. But she knew he didn’t. He’d never approved of the relationship.
“Your father doesn’t like me,” he said, as if he’d read the thoughts so plain on her face.
“It isn’t you. He knows you aren’t a person of faith, and I am. He thinks, well, he thinks you’re corrupting me.”
“God knows, I’m trying to,” J.C. shot back, and grinned at her.
She laughed. “At least you’re honest.” She looked around at the snowy, deserted countryside. “Can I ask where we’re having dinner? In Denver, maybe?”
“I’m taking you home for venison stew.”
Her heart jumped. “Home? Your home?”
He nodded. “It’s a nice cabin. Two bedrooms, lots of space. I bought the land from Ren. I run a few head of purebred cattle. It’s isolated and cozy. I’ve never had a home of my own until now. I’m rather proud of it.”
“And venison stew?”
He nodded again. “I went hunting and got a seven-point buck. I keep the meat in a freezer locker in town at the deer processing place.” He smiled. “My grandmother used to make venison stew, when I was small. She stayed with us in Whitehorse during the last winter my family was together. She taught me how to cook.”
“I imagine she thought it would be a useful skill. Was she the one who had visions?”
“Yes.”
“Are any of your grandparents still alive?”
“No. Most of them died relatively young.”
“Mine, too. I’m sorry. I wish I’d had time to get to know them. My grandmother, the one who had feelings about things, was an herbalist. She could name every medicinal plant known to man and she knew how to process the plants. She kept us healthy. I was in grammar school when she died.”
“My grandfather was an herbalist, too. Most of those old home remedies made their ways into pharmacies under different names.”
“Yes, they did. Oh, J.C., this is beautiful!” she exclaimed when he pulled into a long driveway between lodgepole pines. The house sat in a backdrop of distant mountains, nestled in a thick forest. Lights burned in the windows and smoke came out of the chimney. With snow lying on the ground all around, it reminded her of a Christmas card she’d received one year. She kept the card for the cover.
“I think so, too,” J.C. said, smiling. “I reinforced the walls and added insulation, so it’s warm even when the temperature drops far below freezing.”
It looked like an oversize log cabin. It had a long, wide front porch and there were two rocking chairs on it. There were empty planters. She wondered if he put flowers in them, in the spring.
Inside, the furniture was overstuffed and cozy, in earth colors. The curtains were a deep tan. Scattered around were blankets with patterns in them. There was a dream catcher against one wall, a bow and arrows in a buckskin quiver on another wall. Over the open fireplace, over the mantel, was a painting of a tall man standing surrounded by wolves in the snow. When she got closer, she saw that it was J.C. The portrait was masterful. It looked just like him, except that it radiated loneliness and sorrow, especially in the pale silver eyes.
“Wow.” It was the only thing she could manage. The portrait literally turned the inner man outside.
“Revealing, isn’t it?” he mused, hands in his pockets. “Merrie, Ren’s wife, paints. She has a rare talent for capturing the real person. I had to be talked into it, too.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t sure I was ready to have my life spread out in public.”
“It’s not public,” she pointed out. She studied him. “I imagine not many people ever get invited in here.”
“Ren and Merrie came for venison stew, before their son was born,” he remarked. “Willis and I play poker occasionally. He brings the wolf, who sits in the corner and growls every time I move,” he added on a laugh.
“Willis? The foreman?” she asked, and he nodded. “He has a wolf?!”
“He has a wolf,” he replied. “It has three legs. He’s a licensed rehabilitator. The wolf couldn’t be released back in the wild with a handicap like that, so Willis got to keep it. The damned thing sleeps with him,” he added. “No wonder he’s alone.”
She grinned. “I like wolves. I’ve never seen one up close, but I’ve seen them in the distance. They’re so big!”
“Very big. Dangerous in packs, when they’re hunting.”
“The wolf doesn’t like you?”
“It’s jealous of Willis. Man, woman, anybody. Well, anybody except Merrie,” he amended, leading the way into the kitchen.
“Ren’s wife,” she recalled. “The one who paints.”
“Yes. The wolf went right to her when she and Ren were visiting Willis’s cabin, before they married. The wolf came up to her and laid its head in her lap. She has a way with animals.”
“I wish I could have more pets,” she said with a sigh. “Mama, when she was alive, fostered animals for the local shelter. I loved the variety. But Daddy says one big cat is enough.”
He smiled slowly. “One the size of Big Tom really is enough.”
She smiled back. “I was so shocked when you showed up at our house with Big Tom,” she confessed. “It was unexpected.”
“I know.” He grinned. “I hadn’t planned it. The cat just hung around all the time. I don’t mind cats, but... Anyway, Rod said you had a birthday and you loved cats. It seemed the solution to two problems.”
“He’s a wonderful pet.” She pursed her lips. “Daddy likes him even more since he caught a mouse in the kitchen,” she added, laughing.
He laughed, too. “Does your father get along with the cat?”
“More or less. He’s not really keen on animals, although he’s never cruel to them. He loves people. I guess it’s a trade-off.”
“Rod isn’t an animal lover, either,” he said.
“No, he isn’t. How do you know?”
“Something that happened when we were overseas when your brother was finishing up his tour of duty.” He clammed up.
She wondered if it was something bad. Rod had a mean temper all of a sudden, and he was often out of control. He’d never been that way when he was younger. She felt cold inside suddenly.
He glanced at her as he brought the stew out of the refrigerator. “I spoke out of turn. I shouldn’t have said that. Now you’ll worry yourself to death.”
“No, I won’t. I know Rod has an awful temper,” she added. “Mama got really angry at him once for doing something mean to one of the dogs she was keeping for the animal shelter. I never knew what, because neither of them would tell me what happened. But she died not too long afterward, and we had no more animals at home. Until you gave me Big Tom, at least.”
“Some people are better kept away from animals,” he said noncommittally. “I can make corn bread, if you’d like some to go with the stew.”
“Oh, not for me,” she said. “Stew’s fine. I don’t like to fill up at supper. It keeps me awake.”
He laughed. “Everything keeps me awake. I’m good if I can manage five hours a night. Usually, it’s a lot less. Hand me that saucepan, would you?” He nodded toward it with his head.
She handed it to him. It was a nonstick one, red in color. Very clean. “You keep an immaculate house,” she noted.
“I try to. First thing you learn in the military is to keep your bunk clean,” he chuckled. “Nobody wants to fail inspection.”
“I’ll bet terrible things happen if they do.”
“Yes. Kitchen patrol,” he added. “Peeling potatoes.” He made a mock shiver.
“I love potatoes.”
“I can do without them most of the time. I’ll eat French fries, but I’m not keen on any other method of preparation.”
She watched him heat up the stew. It smelled like heaven. When he put it on the table, she couldn’t wait to dig in.
* * *
THEY ATE IN a comfortable silence.
“This is really good,” she said in between bites. “I can make beef stew, but I’m afraid of venison.”
“Why?” he asked curiously.
“Because it’s hard to cook it right. It’s a dry meat.”
“It can be. My grandmother taught me how to get around that. But I also have a cookbook that belonged to my mother’s mother,” he added. “It has recipes from the turn of the twentieth century. God knows how far back in the family it went before it landed with my mother. It has recipes for all sorts of wild game.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“I’ll show it to you. Not tonight,” he added with a grin. “It’s wrestling night.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Wrestling?”
He nodded as he finished his stew. “WWE.”
She just stared at him.
“Don’t have a clue, do you?” he mused. “Ever heard of Dwayne Johnson?”
“Oh! He was the voice of Maui in that cartoon movie, Moana! I love him!”
“He started out as The Rock on WWE.”
“He was a wrestler?” she exclaimed.
“Yes. So was his father. I miss seeing him in the ring, but I enjoy the movies just as much. He did one called Race to Witch Mountain that I watch over and over.”
“I liked him in Central Intelligence.” She beamed. “But I never knew he’d been a wrestler. I’ll have to turn it on occasionally.”
“It’s a rough sport. People say it’s all put on. But men get seriously damaged in the ring from time to time. So do women wrestlers.”
“Now I’m really fascinated.”
“Bring your coffee to the living room. It’s almost time.”
She watched him put the dishes in the sink and pick up his own coffee before she followed him to the sprawling, comfortable sofa with its soft upholstery and equally soft throw cushions.
“You said you didn’t own a television,” she reminded him as she sat down and put her coffee on the big wooden coffee table.
He chuckled. “I always tell people I don’t. That way, I don’t have to listen to people rave about talent competitions and reality shows.”
“I know what you mean. We watch movies and this one television show on BBC. It’s got the actor who played in The Hobbit. Well, the other actor was in The Hobbit, too, he was the voice of the dragon.”
He glanced at her after he turned on the television and put it on the wrestling channel. “You don’t mean Sherlock, do you?”
“Yes!”
He burst out laughing as he sat down beside her. “It’s my favorite show. One of the very few I watch.”
“Small world,” she commented.
“Very small. Here. Curl up against me.” He drew her across his lap and held her close, kissing her hair.
She sighed. It was like coming home, after being separated from him for almost a week. She laid her cheek on his broad chest and listened to his heart beat. He smelled of some spicy cologne that suited him.
He smoothed over her dark hair. “This is nice,” he commented.
“Very nice,” she sighed. “Much better than sitting at a restaurant listening to people argue.”
“What?” he asked.
“I went out to eat with Rod and Daddy two weeks ago at the fish place. There was a couple having a vicious argument. It was so bad that the manager actually went to their table and told them to leave or he was calling the police. They argued all the way out the door, too.”
“Pitiful lack of manners,” he mused. “To say nothing of pride. Most people don’t air their dirty linen in public.”
“Tell that to the people on social media,” she said, tongue in cheek. “Honestly, they talk about things I wouldn’t even discuss with my mother, God rest her soul, if she was still alive.”
“I don’t do social media.”
“Why am I not surprised?” she asked, looking up at him with a wide grin.
He searched her eyes slowly. She felt soft and warm against him. She smelled of roses. He traced around her mouth with his fingertip and listened to her breathing change.
“You’re winding yourself around me like ivy,” he whispered. “You’re always with me, even when you aren’t.”
“I know,” she said on a shaky breath. “It’s like that with me, too.” She reached up and traced his hard mouth. “I feel so cold and empty when you’re not somewhere close by.”
He bent and drew his nose against hers, nuzzling it. “I won’t make promises, Colie,” he said huskily. “No matter what happens.”
“I know.”
He bent his head and drew his mouth slowly over her parting lips, loving their softness, the instant response that she gave him. She went in headfirst. He didn’t, usually. But he had less control with her than he’d had with a woman since the call girl turned his life and his pride inside out. He wanted her the second he touched her.
He turned her so that her hips were pressed intimately against his. Even through two layers of denim, his arousal was stark and noticeable. She should have protested. But all she could think about was how wonderful it felt to be close to him, to be wanted by him. She’d never known what desire was, before. Now it tormented her night and day. She stayed awake at night imagining all sorts of erotic things that she wanted to do with him.
She arched when she felt his hand sliding under the hem of her pullover blouse. Her lips parted on a shock of breath that he felt going into his mouth. But she wasn’t protesting. If anything, the jerky twisting of her body told him that she wanted much more than just his hands on her back.
He deepened the kiss as his fingers unfastened the simple cotton bra she wore. He felt her hesitate. But seconds later, when he traced around her bare breast and teased the nipple until it went hard, she shivered and just lay against him, letting him do whatever he wanted.
His hands went to the snaps that held his shirt in place. He unfastened it to his belt and pulled it out of his jeans, inviting her hands into the thick wedge of hair that covered warm, hard muscle.
She’d never touched a man so intimately. It was intoxicating, like the feel of his big hands on her breasts. She’d never imagined that she could be this uninhibited with anyone.
And J.C., who seemed so self-contained and controlled, was quickly running out of self-control. She felt his breathing go quick, his heartbeat rough in the silence that was broken by the murmur of voices on the television and the heightened breathing that accompanied growing passion between the two people on the sofa.
He turned her under him, his mouth going suddenly to cover one soft, pert little breast.
He was shocked when she caught his head in her hands and pushed it away. Her eyes were wide and full of fear.
“What is it?” he asked, looking down to appreciate the soft pink flesh with its hard mauve peaks.
“S-sorry, it just sort of surprised me,” she whispered.
“I won’t bite you,” he teased huskily. “I only want to draw you into my mouth and taste you,” he added as he bent again. “God, this is sweet!”
She stopped protesting. She hadn’t known quite what to expect, but this was far different from her expectations of intimacy. His mouth was warm and slow and hungry. He suckled her and she came off the sofa, desire washing over her in a hot tide of oblivion.
“Oh...gosh!” she bit off, arching up and shuddering.
“Baby,” he whispered unsteadily as he eased down over her. “Baby, I want you so much! Feel me...!”
He was between her jean-clad legs, and all she could manage was a faint hesitation. She wanted him. Her body burned. She ached all over.
There was just an instant when she could have drawn away, stopped him. But his fingers unfastened the zipper down the front of her jeans and slid inside, under her cotton briefs, to a place no man had ever touched.
She shuddered as he teased her body, incited her to recklessness. In her passion, she bit him on the shoulder, hard, as the need exploded in her like fireworks.
“Oh, God...!”
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He kissed all the way down her body, carrying her clothing away bit by bit, piece by piece, until she was totally nude. She didn’t care. The air felt good on her body. She was so hot. So hungry. She needed...more.
He managed to undress himself in between intimate touches. She’d been reluctant until tonight. He wasn’t going to give her a chance to refuse him. He’d die if he had to let her go. His body was throbbing with its anguished need. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman. He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted Colie right now.
It was a miracle that he was able to fumble something to use out of the bedside table. He didn’t usually keep the necessary item there. He got it in place between kisses that grew hotter and deeper by the second.
He felt her hesitate, but he imagined he was going too fast. He tried to slow down, to his credit. He kissed the inside of her thighs, feeling her arch and cry out at the intensity of erotic ardor he was showing her.
He touched her intimately, feeling her response. She was ready for him. Odd, how tight she felt. But he was too far gone to worry about that. He knew he was rushing her. But it would be all right.
He went into her quickly, containing her faint cry of shock, one big hand under her hips, lifting her to the thrust of his body.
“Oh, baby, it’s so sweet,” he ground out against her mouth. “Never this sweet, never with anyone!”
She heard the words, but through layers of pain. Was it supposed to hurt this much? She’d read books, but they weren’t explicit enough. She tried not to fight him. Surely it would stop hurting. She did want him. It was her first time. Did he know?
She wanted to tell him, but she was afraid. She knew he expected her to be experienced. He’d said as much in one of their earlier conversations. He’d be livid if he knew the truth. He’d probably throw her right out of his life.
So she took a deep breath and let him have her. He cried out with the pleasure. She was happy that her body was giving him so much joy, she only wished she could share it. But she felt torn and uncomfortable.
At least it didn’t take a long time, she wasn’t sure she could have managed not to start crying.
He drew away from her and fell onto his back, letting out a rough, shuddering sigh. “I thought I was going to die, it was so good,” he whispered roughly. He dragged her against him, wrapped her up in his arms. He kissed her eyelids, closing them. “Thank you,” he added huskily. “I know you weren’t ready for me. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“It’s all right,” she said, hiding her discomfort. It was heaven to have him hold her like this, to be tender with her. It was like a narcotic. She closed her eyes and curled closer. “I love being with you like this,” she whispered huskily.
His arm contracted around her. He didn’t say it, but he felt it. There was a connection between them that he’d never experienced. His women were sophisticated. They demanded, instructed. This one loved anything he did to her. It made him feel a foot taller.
But it worried him that he’d lost control with her. She needed more time, and now he was wasted. She probably realized that. Some men could go all night, but he couldn’t.
“Next time,” he whispered, “we’ll go slow. I promise.”
Her heart jumped. So he wasn’t disappointed with her lack of response. She felt relief and guilt, and disappointment, all at once. Guilty, because good girls didn’t do what she’d just done. Relief that he still wanted her. Disappointment because there wasn’t any pleasure, beyond foreplay. Was that what sex was really like? A buildup to a big letdown? She was far too shy to talk to him about it. And there was nobody else she could talk to. Maybe there were books...
“You’re very quiet,” he remarked, kissing the top of her head.
“I’m happy,” she said softly.
So was he. In fact, he’d never felt more at peace. He rolled over and brushed his mouth over her face, her eyelids, her nose, her soft, swollen mouth.
“I should take you home,” he whispered. “You can have the bathroom first.”
“Thanks.”
She was grateful that the room was dark. Apparently he wasn’t one of those people who liked the lights on. She wasn’t, either. It was embarrassing now that the hot passion was gone, to be nude with him.
She dashed into the bathroom and closed the door. There was blood. Not a lot, but enough that she knew why it had been uncomfortable. Wasn’t there a barrier to be gotten through the first time? That was probably why it had hurt. Maybe next time it wouldn’t.
She cleaned herself up and dressed. When she got back in the bedroom, he was dressed. The lights were on. He looked uncomfortable.
“I’ll drive you home before I shower,” he said. He hesitated, took her by both shoulders and grimaced. “You should have told me, Colie.”
Her heart raced. So he did know that she was innocent...!
“If I’d known your period was starting, I would have waited,” he added. “I’m sorry.”
She felt relief and something else, something worrying. Maybe he didn’t care about being the first. It would be better not to tell him. Not now.
She forced a smile. “I’ll tell you next time,” she promised.
He bent and kissed her tenderly. “Sweet girl,” he whispered. “I’ve never enjoyed anything as much as tonight.”
“Me, too,” she lied, pressing close. Well, she had enjoyed the tenderness. It was just the other part that was uncomfortable. Maybe she could get used to it.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
HE HELPED HER down from the SUV and stood with her for a minute before he spoke.
“There’s a new cartoon movie playing downtown,” he remarked. “Since we’re going to be best friends for a few days, we might as well pig out on the cinema,” he added with a grin.
She laughed. “I’d like that very much.”
“Me, too. I’ll call you.” He dropped a light kiss on her lips and went back to the SUV. He left without a wave or a backward look. Same as always.
Colie hesitated before she opened the door. She hoped that what she’d done didn’t show. She felt such guilt. Her father would be disappointed in her. It would prove what he’d already said, that J.C. was corrupting her.
On the other hand, she could keep it from showing. And J.C.’s assumption gave her a defense.
She went inside, bending over slightly and groaning as she hung her purse beside the door.
“Colie?” her father asked gently, approaching from the kitchen with a cup of black coffee. “Are you all right?”
She grimaced. “Cramps,” she said huskily. “I need to lie down.”
“You poor kid,” he sympathized. “Got something to take for it?”
She nodded. “My usual over-the-counter stuff. It works. But I’m going to bed.”
“How was the meal?”
She didn’t turn. She laughed. “He can cook,” she said. “He took me home for venison stew. It was wonderful. He said his grandmother taught him to make it.”
“Venison stew,” her father sighed. “I remember the taste of it myself.”
“Good night, Daddy.”
“Good night, sweetheart.”
She made it to her room without him noticing that her life had taken a new route. She got clean pajamas and underwear out of her drawer and went straight to the shower. She could still smell J.C.’s cologne on her. At least she’d managed to keep her distance so that her father wouldn’t notice. But, then, he’d just assume that she’d kissed her boyfriend, not that she’d been intimate with him.
It was the first of many white lies she was going to have to invent if she kept seeing J.C., and she couldn’t stop. She was more in love than ever. Whatever happened, she couldn’t give him up. Not even if her conscience flayed her nightly.