One to Take (Stuart & Mariska): Sexy Cowboy (One to Hold Book 8) (9 page)

We’re alone, and Amy proceeds in a regular tone of voice as well. “I kind of am. I always get this irresistible urge to run whenever things get too serious. You probably can’t understand that at all.”

I shake my head no. “I’ve only ever dreamed of finding my soul mate, getting married, and having a family.” Looking at my hands in my lap, I suddenly feel very simple and unsophisticated. “I guess that makes me sound stupid.”

“It does not. It means you’re wonderful, and my big brother’s incredibly lucky to have found you.”

I smile and reach for her hand. “Marcus is lucky, too. You love him. You can do this!”

Her eyes drop and she rubs her stomach. “I just wish I didn’t feel so panicky. Sometimes I can’t breathe thinking about it…”

My mind drifts to Stuart and all the words he’s left unspoken between us. All the things I know he’s not saying. “You should tell him that. Even if you have to tell him you need more time, you should tell him why. He’ll love you for it.”

She smiles as if I’ve told her something she couldn’t figure out on her own. Then she points to my cup. “Aren’t you going to do yours?”

Shrugging, I touch the rim of my cup. “I hardly ever do my own.”

“Do it! Maybe it’ll tell you if you’re going to have a boy or a girl!”

I give her a little grin and take the other saucer, placing it on top of my cup. Then I flip it over and cup my hands around the upside down
demitasse
giving it a few rubs before lifting it.

What do you have for me universe?
I clear my head and look at the mess of grounds a few moments. As I expected, nothing comes. We wait a few moments, and Amy watches me.

“See? It doesn’t work on me.” I wrinkle my nose and look away.

“Well, it worked for me.” She stands and takes her cup and saucer to the sink along with the coffee press. I stay at the table, listening to her clean the items, and my eyes go back to the grainy heap on my saucer.

In a flash, I see the blinding whiteness. The cold metal is all around me, and I can’t move. I’m restrained on a bed, and the bizarre rhymes echo in the background. The voices have stilled. They’ve gone quiet, but figures in white gowns move like zombies. They walk all around, but I can’t move. I can’t get up. I can’t breathe as panic starts to rise, as I start to scream. A bright silver tray appears, coming closer, coming over me. I blink, and I see a face…

“Oh, god!” I gasp, pushing against the table and jumping out of my seat.

“Mariska!” Amy races to me, clutching my hand and trying to hug me. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I can’t stop looking at the grounds. My insides are jumping and panicky, and I’m afraid I might vomit. My whole body cramps, and I bend forward, holding my stomach. “Get them away,” I say frantically, pushing at the saucer. “Wash them away!”

“What?” Amy looks around, and her eyes land on the saucer. In one quick move, she takes it off the table and to the sink, washing it hard and scrubbing it with the dish brush.

I’m holding the table so tightly my knuckles are white. My brain spins with the nightmares, the course of events, and the increasing frequency. I don’t have my dream journal. I didn’t write them down, and now I can’t remember all the details. I have to remember them. I have to know why.

Holding my stomach, I stagger into the living room and lie down on the couch. All I can see over and over is the face reflected in the silver tray—the ratted hair and sunken features, the expressionless eyes. It was my face.

W
hen I enter the house
, I can tell at once something bad happened. Amy’s in the kitchen looking worried, and Mariska’s nowhere to be seen.

“What’s going on?” I ask, half-heartedly waiting for a response.

I’m headed to the hall leading to our room before my sister even has a chance to answer me. Pushing open the door to our room, I find Mariska’s lying on the bed, her back to the door. She appears to be sleeping.

I call her name softly, and I notice her shoulders stiffen. Going to her, I pull her arm back, forcing her to look at me. She’s not crying, but her eyes are haunted. My stomach tightens, and I feel my body preparing for a fight.

“Are you okay?” I reach for her hand, holding my voice steady. “Did something happen?”

She sits up and lunges forward into my arms, wrapping hers around my neck. “It was the nightmare again.”

We’re quiet for several long moments. I’m waiting for her to say something more, but she never does. I don’t know how to question her on this, since I’ve never really understood how it all works.

“You weren’t asleep.” I’m trying to think. “You had the nightmare when you were awake?”

“Amy wanted me to read her coffee grounds.” Her voice is small, and she’s still holding back, only giving me the barest of information in answer to my questions.

“You saw the nightmare in Amy’s grounds?”

Her head slowly moves back and forth. “I saw it in mine.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her closer against my body. “Were you hurt? Did something happen to you?”

Again she shakes her head. “I don’t think I was hurt, but I was in a hospital.”

I’m about to lose it with having to pull this information out of her bit by bit. Either way it doesn’t matter. Taking hold of her shoulders, I move her back from me. “Look at me. Look in my eyes.”

Her eyes blink rapidly, but she finally moves them to mine. Still, I don’t see tears, only fear.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” I say firmly. “
Nothing
. You’re safe on my watch.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but at least she nods. I don’t know how to make her believe me, but I say the words with all the conviction I feel. I defy these dreams trying to hurt my Mariska. Pulling her against my chest again, I smooth my hand up and down her back. “You’re safe with me.”

She eventually relaxes, and I leave her resting on the bed. It’s still drizzling outside, and Bill has returned from town. When he sees me, he walks over, motioning for me to join him at the fireplace.

“I’ve got some business to work out with Evan and Conway tomorrow morning. Think you could ride into town with me?”

Mariska is on my mind, but I nod. She’ll feel better tomorrow. She’s safe here at the house with Mom and Amy, and either way, I won’t be far. “What’s the business?”

“Finalizing those grazing fees and percentage of land use.” He props a boot on the hearth. “I know we’ve pushed back our personal timeline, but it’s good for you to be there. Let them start getting used to hearing your voice.”

Looking into the dark space in front of us, I think of something we haven’t discussed yet. “If we had gone through with the deal, were you thinking of staying on here?”

“Only as long as you needed me.” A twinkle is in his eye. “After that, I figured I might see if any places were available in Chicago.”

I lift my chin then and study his face. Sylvia lives in Chicago. It’s the closest we’ve ever come to him admitting his interest in her. Now I feel almost sorry our plans have changed. Those guys don’t have forever.

“We can talk more in the spring,” is as much as I’ll commit.

He nods and straightens, sliding his thumbs along his waistband. “Let’s head out in the morning around ten.”

“I’ll be there.”

Mariska is in better spirits by dinner. She emerges from the back in a short dress that ties at her neck, revealing her smooth, tanned shoulders. Her eyes are bright, and she seems calmer.

Amy goes straight to her and clasps both her hands, and for a moment I study the differences in her and my little sister. Mariska is free flowing like one of those yellow wildflowers scattered all over the hills in the spring. Amy is structured like a rose cultured in a greenhouse, a controlled environment. Still they manage to be close.

“I’m sorry I made you feel bad,” Amy says, hugging her.

“It’s not your fault,” Mariska hugs her in return. “I think I was just tired. I started to fall asleep or something. I don’t know what it was.”

“We never have to do it again—” My little sister shakes her head, but Mariska won’t let her finish.

“It’s no big deal. We can do it again.” Then her eyes drift to the kitchen. “Just not with that coffee press.”

Amy laughs, and I’m glad to see Mariska is able to joke. The rest of dinner is relaxed, if a little quiet. We pass around platters of dark roast and garlic-sweet potatoes while Amy catches my mother up on the latest Chicago gossip.

Occasionally I glance over at Mariska, and she’s quiet, her thoughts seeming to be far away. I don’t like it, especially after our feisty start this morning.

Strolling back to our room a while later, I stop her in the hall, pressing her back against the wall and leaning down for a kiss. Her lips yield and open to me, and her tongue curls around mine. Still, it’s off somehow.

“Do you feel bad?” I ask quietly, studying her eyes in the dim light.

“I guess my head hurts a little.”

It sounds more like an excuse than a fact from the way her eyes slide away from mine. Catching her chin, I make her look at me.

“It’s okay to be tired. Your body is working hard. I understand that.”

Instead of answering, she steps forward, into my chest, pushing her arms around my waist. I only hesitate a moment, puzzled. Then I feel a little shiver move through her, and I wrap my arms around her.

She holds me tighter, and I tighten my embrace in response, ready to share my strength with her. Fierce protectiveness rises hot in my chest, and I kiss the top of her head. “I’ve got you, babe.”

The rain has stopped when I open my eyes the next morning. I passed a thankfully dreamless night, and the vision from yesterday feels farther away than before. Still, my heart beats faster at the memory—made even more horrifying because I don’t understand it. The ratted hair, my empty eyes, the restraints…

A shudder moves across my shoulders, and I roll onto my stomach pushing my face into the pillow. A large hand slides over my bare shoulder, and the warmth of Stuart’s body is at my back. I exhale a little sigh, melting into him.

“You’re here,” I sigh.

“You were very clear about not waking up alone.” His lips move to the back of my neck, rising higher into my hair, and this time I shudder for a different reason. I feel his erection at my back, and heat unfurls low in my pelvis. My bottom lip goes under my teeth and I bite down.

“I hate a cold mattress where you’re supposed to be.”

Soft kisses followed by the scruff of his beard trace a line down my neck to my shoulders, and I moan again, arching my back up to meet him. With his knee he moves my thighs apart, guiding the head of his cock right to my entrance and sliding in with a forceful thrust.

“Oh, yes!” My head pops up, and I gasp. “Stuart!”

I’m on my stomach, and he’s behind me, rocking harder, one arm gripping the headboard and the other holding his weight off my body. I press both palms against the mattress to meet him from behind.

We’re moving together in a rhythm all our own, and as the fire grows hotter in my core, I groan, trying to move faster, send him into me harder. My orgasm is teasing and close, and I can hardly bear the sweet torture.

“Come for me, baby,” he groans in my ear, and I hear the break in his voice.

Moving his face to my neck, he kisses me roughly behind my ear and down the back of my shoulders. My thighs quiver, and I fall over the edge.

“Oh, god! Oh!” I’m shuddering and gripping, trying to find a way to keep this going and not explode at the same time. Moving my head to the side, I kiss his forearm, slipping out my tongue to taste his heated skin. Salt is on my tongue, and I’m breathing fast.

He’s behind me, pulsing, rocking slower, his pelvis cupping my ass with each heavy thrust. Gradually he slows, going with me to the end. Until with a deep sigh, he drops beside me on the bed, tracing the palm of his hand down my back.

“Better?” His deep voice causes my eyes to flutter open.

I turn my head to the side and smile up at him. “Yes.”

He chuckles, “I almost went to the barn this morning, but I have to be in town with Bill.” My brow lowers, and I pretend frown, which only makes him laugh more. “I’m just saying. It’s not exactly punishment to have you show up pissed and not wearing panties demanding I fuck you senseless.”

Pushing against the bed, I prop on my elbows. Looking at my hands, my hair falls in a wavy chestnut curtain between us. “I guess my hormones are kind of all over the place these days.”

He lifts my hair back and catches my eye. “No complaints here.” He leans forward and kisses my arm before getting up and out of the bed. “Now I’d better shower. I don’t want to be late.”

Watching his ass tighten and flex as he walks away, I can’t resist. “Hot damn! Can I get a fry with that shake?”

He stops, and looks back at me, eyes flashing. My eyebrows shoot up, and I cover my mouth quickly with my hands, trying not to laugh. Just as fast, he dashes back to the bed, catching my ankle and pulling me across the sheets to him as I scream. I’m in his arms, looking right in his eyes. Our chests are touching, and he’s smiling as big as I am.

“I love you,” he says, and my insides melt. I cup his cheeks in both my hands and lean up to kiss him hard.

He leans down, lips chasing mine, and by the time we’re done my mouth, cheeks and neck are scuffed and red from his beard.

His arms loosen, and he steps back. “Now I have to shower and hit the road.”

Nodding, I smile as he takes a few steps back and turns to head into the bathroom. “I love you, too.” I say softly, watching him go.

Amy is waiting at the table when I enter the kitchen. “It’s my last day,” she says with a pout. “Grab a little quiche and let’s do something memorable.”

“Okay!” I step over to the stove where a plate holding three small quiches sits and grab one with the tips of my fingers, sliding it onto a saucer. “I wish you were staying longer.”

Going to the table, I sit, pulling my knee to my chest.

“Me too,” she sighs. “But you can come to Chicago and hang out with me before the baby gets too big. And I’ll visit you in Princeton.”

I smile, as the cheesy goodness of the quiche fills my mouth. The spinach and mushrooms give it a satisfying, savory flavor. “This is so delicious,” I say, holding my hand over my mouth.

“Oh my god, I’m sitting here absolutely struggling against the urge to eat every last one!”

I snort a laugh, and Amy’s eyebrows shoot up. It only makes me laugh more, and she explodes in laughter too.

“Come on,” she stands, reaching for my hand.

I shove the last bite of quiche into my mouth and use the paper napkin I grabbed to wipe my fingertips and mouth.

“Where are we headed?”

“I was thinking we could saddle up a few horses and ride around the place.”

I follow her out the door, nodding and clearing my mouth. “Stuart doesn’t like me to lift the saddles anymore. He says they’re too heavy.” Tossing her pale blonde hair, she narrows her eyes. “I know!” I say, shaking my head. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Still, I don’t want him pissed at me. I’ll put your saddle on for you.” Her tone is exasperated, and I almost feel guilty.

We enter the barn, and four heads appear over stall doors, looking at us curiously. “Oh!” I skip ahead to Jessie’s stall. “Come see my horse!”

“How did you get a horse?” Amy runs up beside me, and I see Jessie scamper to the back of her stall nervously.

“Take it easy,” I say, touching her arm. “She’s still learning we’re friends.”

Amy leans beside me on the door looking inside. “She’s beautiful.”

“I think so, too,” I lean my head on my hand watching my pretty little horse look back at us with cautious interest.

“Is she a wedding present or something?”

“Well, okay, she’s not technically mine. I just say she is because I love her.”

“The white on her forehead reminds me of the moon.”

“Me too!” We’re speaking quietly, and Jessie seems to relax. Her head lowers, and she takes a bite of hay.

“Well,” Amy pushes back. “If I’m the only one doing any lifting, I’d better get started.”

“I can do the bridles!” I call after her, still watching Jessie. I’m itching to pet her nose the way Stuart let me. She seems so content and happy.

Lifting the latch on the door, I open it slowly and wait a second to gauge her response. She blows air loudly through her nose, but she doesn’t seem disturbed by my presence.

“Remember me, pretty girl?” I say softly. “I’m the crazy lady who named you.”

She continues munching whatever’s in her box, and I think about what Stuart said,
Don’t be afraid. Be the boss
.

Adopting a confident posture, I go to where she’s standing. I confess, I’m a little squirmy inside. I don’t want to frighten her, and I especially don’t want Stuart getting angry with me for setting her back.

I make the clucking sound with my mouth, and she lifts her head. I want her to come to me like she does Stuart. I want her to put her nose on my chest and let me scrub her neck and hug her.

“That’s a sweet girl,” I say gently moving closer.

She isn’t afraid. She doesn’t lay her ears back or toss her head. She’s not blowing air through her nose, and her hooves are firmly planted on the ground. My insides are buzzing with excitement.
It’s working!

“You’re so smart!” I say softly, reaching out for her nose. “I love you, you know that? You’re my little horse.”

In the background, I notice Amy speaking from the stall beside us. “I’ve always loved Freckles. She’s like this mystical grey ghost-horse.”