I Was Free
Twelve hours later . . .
GRAY PULLED BACK ON THE horse’s reins and although the view was stunning, the snowy plains, the flowing creek, its sides crusted with ice twinkling in the bright sun, the far off mountains blue against the skyline, I didn’t want him to.
This was because, being held tight against Gray with one of his arms around my belly on top of a magnificent equine beast, I didn’t want to stop. Not ever.
Not ever.
Still, he did.
Then again, we were far from his ranch-slash-orchard (and I saw, in daylight, the rows and rows and rows of densely planted, short peach trees that nearly surrounded the house and the outbuildings that also undoubtedly in spring were amazing) so we’d have to climb back on to get back.
Again, something to look forward to.
Something to look forward to.
I didn’t know if I could get used to that. I’d never had that either, until last night.
I loved it even though I was so excited for the morning to come, I didn’t sleep a wink. And I didn’t care that Casey didn’t come back before I left again. I just wrote him a note, got ready and was waiting impatiently by the time Gray knocked on my door.
Breakfast at the diner, meeting his “beauties,” which were just that (there were twelve of them, twelve!) and now this.
A ride over his land.
And there was a lot of it.
He shifted. Throwing off a long, heavy leg, he dropped down then his hands came up to my waist and pulled me down. Then his gloved hand curled around mine, which was also gloved since he went into the house and grabbed a pair of his gran’s that I could borrow.
Grandma Miriam was not there, by the way. She was in town with some ladies, “knittin’ or whatever they do, probably just jabberin’,” (as Gray said).
This too surprised me about Grandma. She was in a wheelchair so, stupidly, I didn’t think it was easy for her to get around so I guessed she wouldn’t.
Obviously, she did.
Gray led me to the edge of the creek, his horse trailing behind us since Gray still held his reins. He stopped, dropped my hand but curled an arm around my shoulders and looked to the creek.
I curled my arm around his waist and looked to his profile.
“Is this your favorite place?” I guessed, and he stopped looking at the creek to grin down at me.
“One of ’em. Got a lotta land, dollface, and it’s gorgeous land. So got a lotta places.”
I could see that. We’d been riding awhile, maybe ten minutes and not at a sedate walk (which was fun). Everything I’d seen had been a candidate for top spot.
He turned his head, jerked his chin in front of him and my eyes followed.
When they did, he shared, “Across that creek, Bud Sharp’s daddy owns that land.”
Wow.
“Really?” I asked, staring at it.
“His daddy tried to buy ours from mine. His daddy’s daddy tried to buy it from my granddad. This goes on, darlin’, for four generations. Four generations they wanted their hands on Cody land.”
That explained that.
Gray went on with brutal honesty.
“Bud wanted Cecily before me, had her after me.”
My body jolted.
No. Now that explained that.
His arm gave me a squeeze and I looked up at him to see his eyes on me.
“Before her was Connie. Before her was Donna. Before her was Debbie. All the way back to junior high when he picked up with a girl named Emily after I got tired of makin’ out with her at recess.” He grinned again. “Which was around about the time she got braces. I liked my lips the way they were. Bud’s were torn up for a month before he cottoned on.”
I didn’t want to find this amusing because it was kind of scary in a lot of ways. One of those being that he started kissing in junior high which put him around twelve or thirteen and I thought that was kind of young. And another was that he’d been kissing at that age and I’d just had my first kiss last night. But I couldn’t stop the small giggle from escaping.
Gray’s grin became a smile.
I bit my lip and looked back across the creek, letting it go and noting, “He didn’t look much like a rancher cowboy to me.”
And he didn’t. Smooth hands. Nice clothes. Gray’s clothes were nice, masculine, decent-quality, attractive but durable and not showy. And his hands were nice, beautiful actually, but that didn’t mean they weren’t callused. He was a man who worked with his hands. Bud Sharp was not.
“Buddy Sharp has got a lot of problems. One of ’em’s bein’ a pansy-ass. He doesn’t like hard work. Sends his dad over the edge. Got some degree, don’t know what, works one county over at the flagship branch of that county’s bank. Heard word, since Bud spread it, he makes big money. He’s got two sisters. Daddy Sharp is not feelin’ much joy with his son. You got land, you pass it down to your boy you spend a lifetime trainin’ to work it. You do not pass it down to your daughter’s husband unless you have no son.”
“Daddy Sharp share this with his son?” I asked quietly.
“Frequently and publicly, which means also frequently privately,” Gray answered.
“So, seeing as Buddy is not into ranching and probably couldn’t care less about your land, he took the family feud with you in a different way.”
I felt Gray move and my eyes went back to him to see his movement meant he was looking at me.
“Not a family feud, Ivey, we get along fine. They make offers, we decline. They got twice as much land as us, though, not near as pretty.” He grinned yet again and I returned it. Then he continued, “They run livestock, got two orchards, a vineyard, they make wine. I hire hands for peach season and bring in help when I’m breakin’ a horse. Other than that, it’s just me. Jeb Sharp, he’s got five ranch hands, full-time. I lost my mind, accepted an offer, they’d be happy to expand their operation. The answer’s no, Jeb don’t care.”
“So what’s Buddy’s problem?”
“Fuck if I know,” he muttered, looking back across the creek. “Though my dad lived his life tellin’ me often he loved me and was proud of me. He died and I knew those two things down to my bones. Don’t know what would drive me if my dad was openly disappointed in me for bein’ just who I was which wasn’t bad until I became an asshole.”
I again couldn’t hold it back and laughed silently, this shaking my body so Gray looked back down at me, the dimple out.
I sobered and said softly, “You are who his father wants him to be.”
“Say again?”
I turned and pressed my front to his side, tipping my head way back. “Gray, you are who Jeb Sharp wants his son to be. And if he doesn’t mind frequently and publicly telling his son he’s disappointed in who he’s become, it probably stands to reason that the personification of that, right across a creek, has passed his lips on more than one occasion.”
Gray’s eyes drifted across the creek as he muttered, “Well, fuck me.”
“Then again, maybe Jeb Sharp doesn’t say anything and Bud Sharp just looks at you and knows. So, he bests you somehow, with women or earning money or whatever, he proves to his father and everyone that he’s better.” Gray looked back at me and I advised, “Maybe you should throw him a bone.”
That got me a treat, the best gift I ever received. And this was, while Gray burst out laughing and I got to watch and listen, his body also shifted so we were front to front, his other arm stole around me and he held me tight.
When he sobered but was still smiling big and beautiful, his eyes tipped down to me and he asked, “And what do you reckon I should throw him, dollface?” Before I could answer this unanswerable question, his face got warm, his arms got tighter and he kept talking. “’Cause see, just found me something I like a lot, Bud likes her just as much and she’s a bone no fuckin’ way I’m gonna throw.”
I felt my body ease against his just as my legs trembled.
“Gray,” I whispered.
One of Gray’s hands drifted up my back, my neck and held me at the base of my head.
“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Ivey,” he said softly and my body eased more into his even as I felt my eyes sting with tears.
I battled for control as he went on.
“I got shit to do today and it sucks, but soon, I gotta put you in my truck and take you back. Sayin’ that, after I’m done, I’m gonna drive back into town and pick you up. I want you in my house eatin’ dinner tonight then I want you to stay with me and watch TV. Your brother’s got a place to be, I talk to Manny after I drop you off, you give up that room because I ’spect you need the money. No strings, no funny stuff, you sleep under my roof but in your own bed. We take that at your pace. But he’s screwin’ around with whatever he’s screwin’ around with and you and me are gettin’ to know each other, you don’t need to blow whatever stash you got on a hotel. You with me?”
I was but I wasn’t.
“Gray, your gran,” I whispered.
“Love her, she helped raise me, but, honey, I’m a man and I make the decisions that pertain to my life. It’s my house even though it’s both our homes. I’m not gonna lie, she’s not gonna like it but I also don’t care. She’s an adult, you are and so am I. She’ll have to deal.”
“I’m not sure that’s cool,” I said quietly.
“Maybe not but it’s the only time I’ve ever done it so I hope she gets my point and, knowin’ that now, I hope you do too.”
Wow.
I got it.
I got his point, definitely.
And I loved his point.
I didn’t respond, just looked into his blue eyes with their dark, russet-tipped lashes.
“Ivey, darlin’, you with me?”
“If she feels uncomfortable enough that I feel it, will you take me back to the hotel?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he answered.
I gave him more of my weight then I whispered, “I’ll try not to walk in on you in the bathroom.”
He grinned. “Didn’t complain last time.”
No, he didn’t.
I grinned back.
His grin died about a half a second before his eyes dropped to my mouth then his head dipped down and he kissed me.
It was nearly better than the first except this time, he didn’t push it, I didn’t whimper and it didn’t careen out of control. It was wet, it was deep and it was sweet.
And I loved every second of being in his arms on a snowy plain by a creek in the cold with his mouth on mine.
Every blooming second.
He lifted his head, eyes locked to mine and muttered, “Let’s get you back so you can deal with your brother, I can deal with my shit and then I can bring you back home.”
Home.
That was what he said.
Home.
I loved that too.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Gray grinned.
Three hours later . . .
I walked the streets of Mustang.
Casey had come back and Casey was super okay with letting the hotel room go because, “My girl, she’s all over me. It’s cool. I’ll crash with her. You and me will hook up for lunch at noon tomorrow at the diner.”
He didn’t ask about my first-ever date.
He didn’t ask if I got home by ten (I didn’t but it wasn’t that far after).
He didn’t care that I was crashing at Gray’s.
He just was rabid to get back to his girl (after, of course, he begged me for another hundred dollars, which, of course, being me, I gave to him).
So he took his bag, the car, I dropped mine off with Manny at the front desk who assured me Gray had talked to him. And even though we checked out late, he wasn’t going to charge us the extra day. I paid him for the time we stayed and then . . . I was free.
For a day, I . . . was . . . free.
I walked down the sidewalk of the square only just able to stop myself from whistling. Halfway down, I turned right and pushed open the door.
My eyes went to the bar.
Janie’s eyes came to me.
My body went to the bar.
Janie’s eyes followed me.
I put my hands on the bar.
Janie’s eyes didn’t leave me.
My mouth opened and this was what it asked, “That job still open?”
Janie smiled huge and this was how she replied, “Take it the date with Gray went good.”
At that, it was my turn to smile huge.