Chapter 7: Massage Therapy

Stuart

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My safe place was ruined. First, Patrick showed up, killing any hopes I had of finding calm—at least he was occupied with Elaine and out of my way, and we’d figured out how to coexist without actually hurting each other through the years.

I had no strategy for Mariska.

She intoxicated me like nothing I’d ever experienced. No drug compared to her, and then I went and kissed her. Jesus! I don’t know what the hell made me do that. I fucking had to leave now.

Thinking back, I remembered my visceral reaction when her horse ran into the barn without her. Adrenaline surged in my veins, and my vision tunneled. Ignoring the pain in my back and legs, I’d saddled up Ranger and taken off after her.

God, she was beautiful standing on that pier. The shirt she wore was transparent wet, and her dark nipples hinted through the fabric making my mouth water. Her chestnut hair hung in gentle waves over her shoulders, and her hazel eyes glowed like the sun behind the clouds.

Which was exactly the problem. I was no fucking poet. Now I had all these bullshit lines flooding my brain over a girl half my age.

All I could think about were her soft lips, the feel of her in my arms. Riding back, I’d had to fight not to respond physically to her body moving with mine in the saddle. She held my hand, and the pull between us... I was like a fucking teenager.

Worst of all, I kissed her.

She tasted like cool liquid and she smelled... like heaven. Shit, if she didn’t make the most amazing noises. I picked her up, and she was so light in my arms. I wanted to carry her up to the loft, take her, claim her, make her mine, cover every inch of her skin with my mouth. Visions of her riding my lap tormented me. I was healthy, I was over the meds, and I wanted her.

Growling, I rubbed my forehead hard, trying to scrub these thoughts and images away. I’d beaten one drug. I could do it again.

* * *

The kitchen was dark when I finally took the chance to enter. I waited until everyone had eaten, visited and gone to their rooms in the hopes of avoiding her. It was beneath me to act this way—hiding from a woman. The problem was I was still getting my strength back.

When I entered the dim room and saw I was alone, disappointment tightened my stomach. Ridiculous. I’d talk to Bill about taking a few days at the cabin. I was close to being one hundred percent, but I needed a little more time.

Winona left a plate of fried chicken, a baked potato, and rolls in the microwave for me, and I poured a glass of wine to go with it. The fire burned low, and I walked over to sit on the hearth and have my dinner as the orange flames caressed the black coals.

It reminded me of nights under the stars. Healthy nights when I’d camped alone and enjoyed the solitude and majesty of the open plain. It was the remedy that would get me back to whole. Then I’d return to the desert.

A soft creak on the floor made me glance up, and I hated the anticipation burning in my chest. I hated the disappointment when I saw it was only my uncle.

“Sorry to disturb your quiet,” he said, giving me a kind smile. “I’d wanted to talk to you about this at dinner.”

“I didn’t feel like company.” I took a bite of roll, and the two of us watched the flames a moment.

Finally, he cleared his throat and propped a boot on the hearth. “Well, I won’t take all your time. Evan Robertson rode over while you were away this afternoon. A few of his cattle got loose, and he’s worried about them getting lost, electrocuted. Asked if we could help track them down and round them up tomorrow.”

“Think it’s wise to wait?” Metal fences often became electrified during a Chinook, and unsuspecting livestock died as a result.

“Not my call to make.” Bill straightened and walked over to the hall leading to our rooms. “He asked if we could join them at sunup. I thought you might like to ride along.”

Today’s unplanned trip across the plain had irritated my back, but I wasn’t about to stick around another day with temptation so close at hand.

“I’ll be ready when you are.”

* * *

Evan Robertson owned a cattle ranch several miles west of us, toward Vaughn. In addition to cows, he was one of several ranchers who’d added bison to his herd, and those animals, it seemed, led yesterday’s escape.

Dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket and chaps, Evan hopped up on a flatbed trailer before shouting over the wind to the group of about twelve men on horseback, who’d come to help.

“Got about ten of the big ones running ahead of the wind,” he said. “If we split, half going north, the other half east toward Benton Lake, we should spot them and circle them back around to the pen. I picked two leaders, we each have a flare gun to shoot when they’re spotted.”

Conway Hendricks, who was from a spread near Benton, held up one of the large-barreled flare guns. His thick, grey beard was unmistakable, and he had two guys, one wiry and one stocky, with him. In addition to cowboy hats, they had bandannas tied around their mouths and noses. It seemed like overkill to me. A few other guys had joined us. From the looks of them, they had ridden up from the Air Force base, probably looking for some adventure.

Bill and I stayed with Evan’s group. We wore jeans and canvass jackets. Even at dawn, with the sun just cutting across the mountains, the warm winds made jackets unnecessary. They were good protection, though, against flying debris or electrified objects.

I turned Ranger’s head to follow my uncle, who was on Scout, the Palomino Patrick rode yesterday. He along with my paint Ranger were the best herding horses on the ranch. A sharp whistle rang out, and two groups of six took off at a gallop in opposite directions across the tan grasses.

For miles, all we could see was nonstop brown dotted by the occasional green or blackish scrub. Evan was in the lead with my uncle not far behind. I’d dropped back to keep my eyes open in the direction from which we’d come, making sure we didn’t miss anything. It was a tough day of riding hard and squinting harder, doing our best to distinguish brush from bison.

After a while, it became monotonous, and I struggled to keep my thoughts from drifting to memories of soft lips and sunset eyes. I tried to focus on my recovery and my plan. I was getting better. The physical symptoms had receded, and truth be told, the mental side wasn’t as hard for me. I hadn’t taken the drugs to escape or to find some mental respite. That was a bonus. I’d only sought relief from the pain.

The wind blew, the clouds arched, and my mind said Mariska. Her name lingered and turned over in my thoughts. Why was she here? Elaine said she didn’t want her to be alone at Thanksgiving. Why would she be alone?

It didn’t matter. My goals were established—I’d get well, give myself time to be firmly back on my feet, and I was gone. Still, this person stood there in my way, silhouetted against the burning fire of the sun, taunting me with her presence.

I didn’t want her.

I wanted her.

I needed to stay away from her.

I needed to be with her.

Dammit.

By afternoon we’d combed miles of open land between Sun Prairie and Benton Lake without seeing a single rogue beast. Evan was determined and wanted to keep riding, but Bill convinced him the horses needed a break. We stopped at a pond near one of the rocky outcroppings off Bootlegger Trail to breathe and eat.

I led Ranger over to a spot by the water, and shocks of pain radiated through the backs of my legs. Shit, I’d overdone it between yesterday’s hard ride and now this. Holding the side of my horse’s saddle while he drank, I closed my eyes against the blazing ache, remembering what had driven me to start the drugs in the first place. Nothing eased this.

Here was where the mind battles began, the bargaining and rationalizing. If I got another script, I’d be smarter this time. I wouldn’t think I was stronger than the docs did. I’d only use them on the worst days. If I was ever going to get back to the desert, be as strong as I used to be, I had to have something to help me with this wound.

I hadn’t even noticed Bill at my shoulder until he spoke. “You doing all right, partner?”

Pushing away from my horse, I stepped back, but a muscle spasm caused me to wince. “Just taking a breather.”

His brow tightened. “This is a fool’s errand if you ask me. I want you to head on back to the house.”

“I came to help. I can do this.”

Bill’s hand closed over my arm like a vice.  “Listen to me, son. Conway’s all the way down to Black Eagle, and he hasn’t seen a thing. Those bison could be as far as Conrad with the head start they got. Maybe farther.”

I knew he was right, and even my pride wasn’t strong enough to override the misery radiating through my pelvis. Ranger was watered, I’d had a few bites of the cold chicken Winona had packed us.

“Anything you need tending to when I get back?” I could do that much at least.

“Nah. With all the work you did yesterday, we’re pretty set for a few days. Take a break.” Confusion lined my face, but he only laughed. “You forget when you and Patrick are gone, it’s just me and Ron doing chores. You two’ve gotten us more than caught up.”

My expression relaxed, but at the same time, I didn’t want to sit around the ranch house with the internal battle I was waging. “Would you mind if I spent some time at the cabin?”

“Wouldn’t you rather spend some time with our guests?” He glanced at me, and a hint of mischief was in his eyes. “Some of them are right easy on the eyes.”

Exactly. “I’d do better with some quiet time.”

He sniffed and his eyebrows twitched. “Suit yourself.”

* * *

I’d taken my time riding back to the house. We weren’t as far out as I’d thought, but Ranger was thankful for a restful lope after two days of tearing across the prairie. None of our house guests were apparent when I made it to the barn, and I hoped to get in the stall, brush Ranger down, pack quickly, and head out again.

Considering my plan, I decided to take Freckles with me back to the cabin. Patrick wouldn’t use his fucking brain to keep Mariska off her, and the least I cold do was protect her against a flighty horse. The idea that I wouldn’t be here to protect her from anything else gnawed at the back of my mind, but she was a grown woman, even if she was young. I had to give her credit for being able to keep out of trouble.

Ranger in his stall, I removed his saddle and blanket and was just making my way toward the tack room when she ran through the doorway off the side paddock. She was laughing, and her hair blew around her face in silky ribbons. My chest tightened, but I kept my pace steady, determined.

“Oh!” The soft note in her voice hit me right in the stomach. “I didn’t hear you get back.”

I didn’t plan to answer her, but when I turned to go back for the bridle, she was standing in the doorway blocking me. Today she wore an Indian-print poncho and what looked like nothing else except cowboy boots. She was delicious with that long hair wrapping over her shoulder. Stirring below my belt. Fighting that.

“Patrick said you’d be gone all day.” Her light brows clutched over those eyes. “Did something happen? Where’s your uncle?”

Clearing my throat, I tried to find balance in the midst of the internal storm she provoked. “He asked me to head back. Check on the place.”

Scooping up a brush, I started for the door, but she didn’t miss a thing.

“It’s your injury.” I kept moving, and she was right behind me. “You never gave me a chance to tell you. I know massage therapy. If it’s muscular or nerve damage, I could probably help you.”

Massage therapy had been one of the most effective treatments before I’d gone on the meds. Still, I couldn’t think of anything more dangerous than her small hands touching my bare skin, relieving my pain.

“That’s okay. I’ll manage.” Pulling the stall door open, I moved Ranger to the side of his pen so I could quickly pull the brush over his coat.

When she spoke again, her voice was soothing, sexy. “Don’t be that way.” I kept my eyes on the brown and white horse in front of me, but I could hear her smile. “You’re clearly in pain. Won’t you let me help you?”

The way her voice rolled across my ears, low and sultry, tightened the muscles low in my stomach. Yesterday’s kiss blazed in my mind, but I fought it back with anger.

“I’m taking a few days’ rest.” My voice was sharp, but it was for the best. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you afraid?” Flashing a glare at her, I had to look twice. My anger hadn’t stopped her. She actually reached for my arm.

Everything froze when she touched me. This small, beautiful creature inserted herself between me and my horse, holding my arm and my gaze. She wasn’t going to run, and she wasn’t letting me go.

“What do you want, Mariska?” The muscle in my jaw tightened. I was too tired for fighting.

Another hand on my other arm, she held me against her body and whispered. “I want you, silly.”

I moved my arms away and grasped her by the shoulders. She blinked as I shook her once. “I already told you. I’m leaving.”

“Take me with you.” Her hazel eyes burned into mine. Was she casting a spell on me? Take her with me? God dammit!

Loosening my grip on her, I stepped back, and a flare of pain shot through my hip. “Fuck!” I hissed, and she was right with me.

“Come on.” Her voice was patient yet insistent.

Lacing her fingers in mine, she pulled me toward the door. She took the brush from my hand and set it on top of the stall. Once we were out, she locked the pen. Our eyes didn’t meet as she caught my hand again, pulling me in the direction of the house. I didn’t fight her. Ron walked across the yard, but he didn’t acknowledge us. Patrick and Elaine were nowhere to be seen.

The sway of her poncho across her ass revealed she was wearing short denim cutoffs underneath. Her legs were smooth, and I followed the movement of her hair up the length of her back. I couldn’t tell if the poncho was a shirt or if there was more to her outfit.

She didn’t stop once we were in the house. She kept walking, leading me to the hall where Bill’s and my bedrooms were located.

“Which is your room?” she asked.

I wasn’t getting out of this easily. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Taking the lead, I walked us to the third door on the right. It was a spacious bedroom with a bathroom attached. A small desk was just inside, and a recliner sat near a wall across from a medium-sized, flatscreen above a large dresser. Mariska was only interested in the king-sized bed in the far corner.

She turned to me and pulled my shirt out of my jeans. “You don’t have to take off everything. Just strip down to your boxers.”

Her hands fascinated me as she unbuttoned my shirt. They were slim but strong, and several needs I’d put on hold for a long time sprung to attention.

“I need a shower.” My voice was thick.

Sunset eyes flickered up to mine, and I wanted to kiss her again. “You can shower when I’m done. Or you can sleep and shower tonight.”

“I don’t sleep during the day.”

“When I’m finished, you’ll want to rest.”

One of my eyebrows arched, and I couldn’t stop a grin. “That sounds highly unlikely.”

“This is therapy, Mister Knight.” Her eyes slanted, but I caught the gleam there. “I’m a professional.”

“Are you licensed?”

Her lips pinched in the most adorable way. “A minor technicality.”

If I weren’t so curious about what was coming, I would’ve ended this doctor-patient game she was playing and crushed her against my chest in that moment. But I was curious.

“Now,” she said, once my shirt was off. Her eyes didn’t leave my chest, and I saw her breathing change. It was the fucking sexiest thing she’d done yet. “Sit down, so I can take off your boots.”

For a moment, I stood in front of the girl in the Indian poncho, denim cutoffs, and possibly nothing else, contemplating all the things I wanted to do to her. After another beat, another damn sexy blink, I sat on the bed.

She started to breathe, and a grin curled the side of my lips. Her eyes moved from my mouth to my chest, and I noticed her slim hands tremble as she caught the heel of my boot.

“I have a boot jack over by the door,” I said.

“I’ll use it for mine.”

Stepping in front of me, she caught my heel in her palm and pulled. A sharp tug, and the boot slid off my foot. While she carried it to the door, I reached down and pulled off the other one. A small frown creased her eyes when she walked back to take it from me. She carried the second boot to the door, and I quickly slid my jeans down and off.

This time when she turned back around, her pink mouth dropped open. She closed it fast, but I almost laughed as she visibly fought for control. She hadn’t touched me yet, and my muscles were already relaxing.

“Okay, then.” Her voice wavered just a bit. Lifting an arm, she pointed to the mattress. “Lie on your stomach.”

“I thought massage therapists used special tables.” It was a stall. I wasn’t quite finished watching her squirm.

“We’re having to make do. Now lie down.”

No one told me what to do. It was that simple. But her standing here in front of my bed, tentatively giving me orders, was a definite turn-on. I followed her cute demands and whipped the covers back before sliding across the cool mattress.

Relaxation settled over my shoulders. I heard her use the bootjack to slide her first boot off. A thump and a shush later, I knew she’d removed the second. She didn’t come to me right away, though. Soft noises, the sound of heavy cloth hitting the floor preceded the indentation of the mattress, the movement of her climbing up the bed beside me.

My eyes were closed when she touched me the first time. Warm hands slid back and forth across my lower back. It felt so good.

“I’m going to do deep-tissue massage, but I need you to tell me the extent of your pain. Is it from an old injury?” Her touches turned deeper, kneading as she spoke. It was painful, but I could feel the ache releasing. “I’m assuming since you can ride, it’s not delicate.”

“Nothing on me is delicate.” My voice was muffled from lying on the mattress.

“Do you mind if I remove your boxers?”

Yes. I minded very much. I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to stop myself if things went further. “No,” was what came out of my mouth.

With delicate movements, she slipped off the bed, taking the boxer briefs I wore with her.

* * *

Mariska

If you asked where this sudden surge of bravery came from, I’d have to be honest. I had no fucking idea. Stuart rode into the barn looking like sex on two legs... very tired sex on two legs, but sex on two legs all the same, and I made up my mind. After the way he kissed me yesterday, I didn’t care what type of bullshit line he tried to spin, Stuart Knight was in the same space as me. He was fighting hard, but he wanted this.

Now I was in his bedroom ordering him around, and he was actually allowing it. Humoring me, more like it. Not for one minute was I suffering from the delusion that this man took orders from anyone. Still, for whatever reason, exhaustion or simple curiosity, he let me take the lead.

Once his shirt was off, I couldn’t hide the hitch in my breath at the site of his lined torso. Ridges crossed his abdomen, lines stretched across his broad shoulders and down his arms. He lay on his stomach across the mattress, and it was all I could do not to run my tongue over every inch of his beautiful body. Instead, I quickly took off my boots, and for increased mobility (yes, that was my excuse), I removed my denim shorts.

Lightly I smoothed my palm across his lower back, trying to remember the touches I’d learned in the few massage therapy classes I’d taken. Why hadn’t I taken more? Kneading a little harder, I knew I had to get lower, down into the pelvic area to give him relief.

“Do you mind if I remove your boxers?” My voice was breathless and trembling. Those snug, dark briefs didn’t hide much, but I knew once I saw that ass, I’d be a goner.

“No.”

One word. He’d sounded almost as cautious as me when he said it. Closing my eyes, I shook myself. Now was the time. This was my man. If I was going to make it happen, if I was going to make any of this make sense, from the day I left Bayville to this moment, I had to go for it. Fate had dropped this opportunity straight in my lap.

Inhaling a quiet breath, I gently pulled the waistband out and lowered it down his legs. I knew what was on the other side, pressed between his pelvis and the mattress, and I didn’t want to hurt him. Miraculously, I got his underwear off, and

Oh.

My.

God.

Square and tight, with palm-sized indentations on each side... For a moment, I could only stare at his backside. Perfect and golden as the rest of him.

Climbing back onto my knees, I took the quietest deep breath in the history of recorded time. It trembled going in, and my hand trembled reaching out. I touched him. He seemed to breathe at that exact moment as well—almost as if he’d been holding his breath, too.

Pressing with my palms and circling with my thumbs, I kneaded the tightness out of his left side. Moving down that perfect curve of muscle, I went to his hamstring and repeated the process moving back up. Thumbs circling, palms pressing, more circling, more kneading, and I moved to the other leg to repeat the process, down then slowly working my way back up to that perfect ass.

He let out a few quiet groans throughout, and after ten minutes that felt like a mixture of ten seconds and ten hours, I’d done all I could do. I was finished.

Sitting back on the bed, I looked at the sculptured physique lying before me.

“You should take an ibuprofen to head off any pain tonight. Massage releases lactic acid, and you might actually feel worse at first. It’ll be a lot better in the morning.”

His head turned, and smoky hazel eyes blinked under thick lashes. He was tired, but he was still so handsome. “That felt really good.” Husky voice. The man was pure sex. “Thanks.”

Dropping my chin, I looked at my hands. “Glad to help.”

Neither of us spoke. He didn’t move. My work was done, and it was time for me to go. I had to go.

My insides twisted, and my stomach cramped at the thought of walking away from him, at the prospect that he might not follow. Still, I knew Stuart Knight, and I couldn’t be easy. He had to decide what he wanted. He had to come after me.

Clearing my throat, I turned and slid off the bed, scooping my shorts from the floor. “I hope you feel better,” I said before heading to the door where my boots lay next to the jack.

He didn’t speak, and from what I could tell, he hadn’t moved. He was letting me go. Heat blurred my vision, my stomach ached, and I started moving faster. I would not cry—at least not here. I’d run all the way to the other side of the house, to my room, before I lost it.

Reaching for the door, I’d just turned the knob and started to pull when it flew from my fingertips and slammed shut. The noise made me jump, and a boot dropped from my arms, hitting the floor with a loud thump. Stuart’s arm was over my head. He’d pushed the door closed, and my bottom lip sucked between my teeth when his hand slid slowly down to turn the lock.

Lined stomach, broad chest, strong arms, he was naked before me. I wanted to look lower, but instead I cautiously blinked up to his eyes. They were hot and angry and desperate and hungry, and my heart ricocheted all around inside my chest. He was losing the fight this time.

“Stay.” His voice rumbled low, and my arms went slack.

I dropped my other boot, my shorts, and stood in front of him waiting, ready for whatever was coming.