Love Me Tender (32 page)

Earlier today, she'd pretty much decided it was time to move on, and was thinking of Victoria. It would be great to spend more time with JJ, to get to know Mags. As for Justine and Luis . . . She was wary, but maybe a little hopeful too.

Esperanza
. Hope. Sometimes she thought it was a naïve emotion, yet how miserable life was when you assumed the worst.

Victoria might actually work out. If she decided to run away from Dave. Run away from her feelings for Dave.

Life without Dave, the same kind of life she'd enjoyed so much in the past, would be empty, lonely, sad. Yet she couldn't stay unless she agreed to the possibility of a future together. The prospect was appealing in so many ways, but how could she believe it was realistic? Might it be possible for her—a woman who had no experience with or faith in permanence—and Dave—a divorcé who'd lost the love of his life—to build a loving, supportive long-term relationship like the one his parents had?

As she went up the walk at Ms. Haldenby's house, she remembered her landlady's girlfriend, Irene, saying, “Home is where the heart is.”

Did Cassidy dare let her heart take root with one person, in one place?

She was still musing over that question half an hour later, sitting easily in Cherry's saddle as they loped along with Merlin running happily beside them. The brisk air warned of winter coming. She was glad of her sheepskin jacket.

Two weeks ago, the aspens and cottonwoods had blazed with golden leaves, but now their branches were mostly bare and the only gold was in the faded grass. Behind the rolling ranchland, hills rose dark green, clad in hemlocks and cedars. The sky was a cloudy bluish purple. The natural grandeur was such that you could turn in any direction and snap a calendar-worthy photo.

Every time she went out, the scenery had changed a little, and so had the activities on the ranches and farms she rode past. Did a search for new sights and experiences have to mean a gypsy lifestyle? She couldn't imagine losing her yen to explore the world, but could it be satisfied by a holiday or two each year? How would Dave feel about that?

But wasn't the real question, how did she feel about Dave?

As she slowed Cherry to a walk and turned back toward Caribou Crossing, she said tentatively—to the horse, the dog, the bluish purple sky—“I love him.”

None of them responded. Nothing terrible happened. In fact, her heart didn't jerk in shock; instead, it pulsed warmth that spread through her body. A warmth that felt like . . . joy and rightness.

Could she trust in that feeling? Could she trust in Dave, the man who reminded her so much of the one man who'd never let her down, her grandfather? Yes, Dave might die as Gramps had, but while he drew breath he would be loyal to the people he loved. She knew that, with utter conviction.

Could she trust in herself, in her ability to be a person like Gramps rather than like her parents?

Could she let herself believe that Dave truly loved her and wasn't just trying to rescue her? Did he even know for sure himself?

Cherry whinnied, and another horse answered in the distance. Cassidy saw a lone rider on a black horse, too far away to make out whether it was a man or woman, much less identify the person. All the same, they both gave friendly waves.

If Cassidy lived here, she could get her own horse, maybe even buy Cherry Blossom. That is, if she figured her MS would let her keep riding. Her health was a big unknown. That still pissed her off and scared her, but she wasn't going to live her life expecting the worst. One woman in Caribou Crossing had been in remission from MS for thirty years. Cassidy was going to take her treatment seriously, rest when she needed to, and hope for the best.

Though she couldn't control her MS, there were things she could control. She could be a loyal, reliable, loving person like Gramps. She couldn't promise Dave that she wouldn't get sick, but maybe she could be a woman who deserved his love.

They had time. It wasn't like he'd gone down on bended knee and proposed. He'd asked her to stay, to see if she could love him—well, it seemed that one was easy!—and to be open to the possibility of a future together.

But would it be selfish of her to take him up on that? Really, wouldn't he be better off with another woman?

She needed to decide whether to go or to stay, but it wasn't right to make that decision on her own.

Driving home from Sally's, Dave was glad Cassidy had called to say she would cook dinner at his place. Well, he could've cared less about the food. And actually, “glad” wasn't the right word. He was pretty much scared shitless.

If Cassidy said she could never love him . . .

Crap, how had he let this happen? He'd been so convinced that Anita was the love of his life, he'd never even considered that a second, much different love might two-step her sassy way into his heart. He'd been defenseless against the magic that was Cassidy Esperanza. On the radio, Elvis was again singing “Love Me Tender.” During that first dance with Cassidy, Dave's body had stirred to life. At some point, his heart had stirred too. Yes, he loved her tenderly; he also loved her passionately. He wanted to protect her and to lean on her. She was strong. Stronger than he was. She'd handled the trauma of her diagnosis better than he'd dealt with losing Anita.

He wanted Cassidy as his partner in life. But if that wasn't what she wanted, he had to have the guts to let her fly free. The solo wild goose, the moonbeam he couldn't hold in his hand.

He parked his Jeep at the back of the Wild Rose and, stomach in a knot, went up the stairs. Inside the apartment, he hung up his work jacket and pulled off his dirty work boots. Man, was he sweaty and grubby. Merlin greeted him, tail wagging happily. “Hey, pal, where's—”

Cassidy answered his question by stepping through the kitchen door looking more tentative than eager. “Dinner's ready—” she started to say just as Dave said, “I need a shower.” Then he said, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I'm making baked chile rellenos. They're ready to go in the oven.” She rubbed her hands on the faded jeans she wore below a blue Western shirt. Often when she came here she slipped into form-fitting yoga pants and a T-shirt in some interesting color. The fact that she hadn't done so wasn't a hopeful sign. “So you can go take a shower,” she said, “and I'll—”

“Cassidy.” He strode toward her. Yeah, he should shower, but he had a more urgent need. “I have to know. Tell me what you're thinking.”

Her blue-gray eyes were soft, troubled. “I'm confused.” She toyed with the pendant that hung around her neck. He thought of a wild goose, deciding whether to take flight or to stay.

He nodded, forcing himself not to touch her cheek or kiss her. “Go on.”

“Dave, I do love you, but—”

“What?” Had she actually said that, or had wishful thinking made him imagine it?

Her lips curved, trembling. “I do. I didn't really know what love was, and I wasn't looking for it, but you made it pretty much impossible to not love you.”

“You love me?” Maybe he sounded like a dummy, but he had to be sure.

“I do.” She stated it firmly this time. “I love you, Dave Cousins.”

“My God.” He grabbed her in a big hug, hoisting her off the ground in his exuberant relief. “You love me!”

By now she was grinning, her eyes sparkling as he pressed his lips to her smiling mouth. She kissed him back; then her kiss turned urgent, almost desperate. Then she surprised him again by pulling back. “Let me down. That doesn't answer anything.”

“Huh?” He lowered her. “I love you, you love me. That's what's important. We can work out the rest.”

“Maybe.” Her expression was solemn now. “Want to talk now, or take that shower?”

He glanced down, having momentarily forgotten how grubby he was. He'd rubbed off on her too; he flicked some dried dirt and grass from her shirt. “Shower with me.”

Her expression lightened. “You think you can use sex to persuade me?”

“I'll give it a shot.” His very best shot.

The grin came back. “Fire away.”

He hoisted her into his arms—who cared if he got more dirt on her clothes?—and carried her toward the en suite bathroom. When she looped her arms around his neck, his heart clutched. Cassidy loved him. It was still sinking in, like the slow fire of good whisky burning through his veins. Combined with the euphoric fizz of champagne bubbles. Things had to work out.

After he lowered her onto the bath mat, he tugged open the snaps of her shirt and slid it off. Under it, she wore a skintight purple tank top, which he peeled over her head. No bra, just small, firm, beautiful breasts. She toed off her sheepskin slippers. He peeled her jeans and panties down her legs and she stepped out of them.

She was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. Slim and sleek with unmistakably feminine curves. Long, elegant neck with the pendant resting in the hollow at the base. Oval face framed by that elfin cap of midnight hair; lovely light brown skin. And her dark-lashed eyes, their blue-gray so striking, so clear and honest and loving.

The best part was, her physical beauty was only a small part of what made her so special.

No, the best part was that she loved him.

Her fingers worked busily to free him from his own clothing, and he cooperated until he, too, stood naked. Fully erect. Mischief sparked in her eyes. “You've been mending fences? I think you need a very thorough shower.” She turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, then stepped in behind the shower curtain. “And I'm going to make sure you get it.”

When he followed her in, he knew the shower would be warm but not too hot, and knew also how much she missed being able to have steaming hot showers and baths. As for him, he didn't care about the temperature as long as Cassidy was there. She lathered oatmeal soap onto a turquoise bath sponge, both items she'd added to his bathroom.

When he reached for her, she said, “Uh-uh, you're not touching me again until you're clean from head to toe, and everywhere in between.” Clearly, she intended to torture him.

Great plan!

“Turn around, facing into the spray,” she ordered.

He obeyed. The warm needles of water were stimulating, but nowhere near as much as the firm circles she drew on his shoulders with the soapy sponge. Up his neck, down again, out to his shoulder cap, in to his spine. The fluffy sponge had a gentle abrasiveness that made his skin tingle. The fact that it was Cassidy wielding it added a sexy edge that kept him erect.

But he needed to apologize, to explain. “Last night? That wasn't how I planned to do it.”

“Planned? You had a plan?”

“Hey, it's me. Of course I had a plan.” Dinner and wine, words that he'd rehearsed. But then fireworks had exploded, overhead and in his heart, and he couldn't wait. “When I'm spontaneous, things don't always work out so well—as last night proved.”

“Yet here we are.” She'd worked the sponge down to his lower back and now circled it around one of his butt cheeks.

Damned happy they were there, he tensed, waiting to see if she'd trace the sponge down his butt crack and between his legs. Shifting weight, he slid his legs farther apart to allow her access. “I'm glad I didn't totally screw it up.”

“Why did you deviate from your plan?”

He'd asked himself that question more than once, giving himself a mental kick for being such an idiot. “The whole evening. You, with me in the middle of Caribou Crossing on one of the most fun nights of the year. You belonging here, it seemed to me. Belonging
with
me. I always love fireworks and I guess I was feeling romantic or something, and I blurted it out.”

The sponge paused in circling his other butt cheek. “It actually was pretty romantic. But you scared me. It was too much, too soon.”

“And that's why I had a plan,” he said ruefully.

“Tell me your plan.” Her tone told him she was smiling, and the sponge now did drift down the groove between his butt cheeks.

“Over an excellent dinner and some very expensive wine, I intended to cover off some stuff first,” he said absentmindedly. The rough caress moved between his legs, brushed his balls.

“Such as?”

He wanted to grip his cock. Better still, have her do it. The sponge gave more teasing flicks, then moved down his sensitive inner thigh, and finally to the less erotic back of his leg.

“Dave? Such as?”

“Such as what?” He had no clue what they'd been talking about.

“You planned to cover off ‘some stuff.'”

“Oh, right.” He breathed in and out more slowly. “Like, I know you love going to new places, seeing new things.”

“I do. Caribou Crossing is terrific but I can't imagine never traveling anywhere else.”

“I figured. And I'm good with that, Cassidy. I admit that I've barely gone anywhere, but it's not that I'm not interested. If there were places you'd like to go together, or with Robin, we could do that. You got her all excited about those baby turtles.” The sponge rubbed his calf now. He gazed down over his shoulder to see Cassidy squatting on the floor of the shower, black hair plastered to her head. “Or if you want to travel on your own, you could do that.”

She glanced up. “You wouldn't mind?”

“I don't want to tie you down. I know your independence is important to you.”

“It is.” She moved the sponge to his other calf. “But traveling together would be fun too. How would it work? Leaving the Wild Rose for two or three weeks, maybe even longer?”

“I could do that.” Anxiety made him swallow. “We'd have to train someone to take over. Maybe Madisun would be interested in working here full-time when she graduates. She has a lot of potential and she's very responsible.”

“She is. No wonder, growing up in a family like hers.” Cassidy's sponge had reached his thigh now but the serious topic diluted the sexiness of the touch. “Thank God for Evan, and for you,” she said.

“Much more him than me.” Evan—a child of abuse—had figured out that Madisun's father abused her and his wife. Evan told the man that if he ever hit any of his family again, he'd call the cops. Then Evan funded Madisun to go to university. When she focused on the hospitality industry, Dave had hired her.

“Dave?” Cassidy was standing now, touching his back, urging him to turn around. When he did, she rested her hands on his shoulders. “I need to know you aren't rescuing me.”

“What?”

“You kind of rescued Madisun.”

He shook his head. “I gave her a job. Turns out she's the best employee I've ever had, except for you.”

“It seems to me you rescued Jess when she was pregnant.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, then slowly said, “I guess I kind of did. It seemed like the right thing at the time.”

“And maybe it was.”

“Or maybe it wasn't,” he admitted. “If I'd encouraged her to tell Evan, maybe they wouldn't have lost ten years. She and I both figured he wouldn't be happy in Caribou Crossing. But hell, if he loved her, maybe he would have.”

“It's the past. You and Jess did what you thought was best at the time. But Dave, I'm not her.” She gazed earnestly into his eyes. “I'm not seventeen, I'm not pregnant. I've looked after myself for ten years and I can keep doing it. I don't need to be rescued.”

“I get that. Just because I can be a little overprotective and controlling—something I'm working on—doesn't mean I'm trying to rescue you.” He sighed and admitted something. “I was the one who needed rescuing. I'd wallowed too long; then you came along and rescued me.”

“Is that why you love me? Because I broke you out of, uh . . . ?”

“Depression. Hopelessness. I don't know exactly what it was, but it was a dark, dead place. Even with the wonderful stuff in life, like Robin, it was like I was distanced from it, seeing it all through a gray fog. Now the fog's gone. I see life in all its”—he broke off—“I was going to say beauty. But it's not always beautiful, is it? I see all its complexity.”

“Your dimple's been getting exercise.” She stroked his face and, as he grinned, tucked the tip of her little finger into the pocket in his cheek. “I love that dimple.”

“I love you, Cassidy. I guess it's partly because you rescued me, but you did that because of who you are. And I love you because of who you are. Feminine and strong, independent and generous, fun and responsible.” He shook his head. “I'm listing off attributes, but it's so much more than that. It's how everything combines to make this amazing person. It's how I feel when I'm with you, or even think about you. Does that make any sense?”

Her eyes glowed. “Yes. It's the perfect description, and it's how I feel about you.”

“So does that mean . . . we're good?”

“Oh, we're very good,” she purred mischievously.

“Will you think seriously about it? About staying here and giving our love a chance?”

Slowly, she shook her head, but her eyes were dancing. “No. No more thinking. I've decided. Yes. Yes, Dave, I want to stay with you.”

Yes. The most beautiful word in the world. He squeezed his eyes shut with relief, breathed in gut deep, then slowly let air out. A sense of peace seeped into his soul. Opening his eyes, he reached out to hug her, but she took a step back.

“Oh no”—she lifted the sponge—“I still have your front to wash.”

Delicious, sensual torture. On the other hand, sometimes a guy needed to exert control. Firmly, he took the sponge from her. “I'm clean enough.”

The sparkle in her eyes glinted brighter. “Clean enough for what?”

“This.” He bent his head to take her lips, delving between them to possess the sweet depths of her mouth.

Cassidy was his. For laughter and joy, for arguments and worries, for life in all its full, amazing complexity.