When You Fall... (23 page)

“I’ve got to go.”

“Don’t go running off with your feelings hurt.”

Rafael laughed. “It would take more than you to hurt my feelings. It’s been a long day,” he said, and walked out the door.

That would teach him to share. He’d known better, but he’d also known Frank for a long time, and until now, he could take the ribbing he’d gotten over his potential bride list. He was used to it. It was what they did with each other.

He pulled out heading home, taking the long way around. He drove by her place. Even if he didn’t stop, there was no harm in keeping an eye out. He didn’t want to share her, or what they’d done, with anyone.

And back to his Carter problem. Even if she changed, and wanted long-term, and wanted to live here, he was not and would never be an African American male. And was that really so important to her? He honestly didn’t think so, but even if race wasn’t an issue for her, it was for her father. Would she go against him? That was another hurdle that she’d have to get over. She’d have to pick which of them to please; couldn’t be both. There could only be one man in the family.

So far, she hadn’t been able to stand up for herself, defending something she really loved, like her ranch. The odds of success with her standing up for him were even slimmer, not that he’d asked her to.

He knew his list sounded foolish to some, but really, was it any less offensive than using race in determining the value and compatibility of others? He didn’t have the answer for that one, deciding to let it go. What was up with him this week, and that churning thing with Carter, and the relationship between his dad and mother?

He really was looking for keeps, even if his requirements seemed basic to some. There was less craziness with finding a wife with his list, less room for misunderstandings and disappointment, no room to be hurt if you loved more than the other person, because this way, you didn’t love at all.

#

Saturday night.

The house telephone rang. It must be Madison.

“Hello,” Carter answered.

“I talked to Dad today. He told me he has narrowed down his search to two real estate firms. One has a woman he was really impressed with. He thinks she would make a good property manager. Isn’t that great? We are moving ahead.”

“You know there was a time in this country when one in seven farmers was African American. Do you know what that number is now?” Carter asked.

“No, and I don’t care. We don’t have a farm anyway. We have a ranch,” she said.

“Did you know that in 1910, black farmers’ land ownership was about 15 million acres? It’s down now, less than 18,000 black farmers now, and that is less than one percent of all farms in America.”

“What’s your point?”

“This land is valuable, and although six million is a lot of money, is it enough to discount the value of it to our family? It’s our history,” she said.

“Carter, Carter, Carter. Our great-grandfather left this to us and we are going to put it to good use. It’s going to pay for college for my children and for your children, if you ever have any. Oh, I forgot, you’d have to get married first. What was I thinking, calling you. I should have known that you’d only think about yourself. It’s our land, too, Carter and we are selling it, so get over it,” she added.

“He wasn’t even your great-grandfather,” she said, into the silent phone. Madison had already hung up.

#

Carter sat in her car, parked outside of Rafael’s home, later on that night. The twins and their comments about Rafe and all that he could do for a woman, mixed with her experiences with him already, had her driving over. Plus, Madison had left her angry and she needed to do something with that energy; something other than being depressed.

She’d missed out on the Fourth of July fireworks, but maybe they could produce another type of fireworks. She took a breath, hoping she wasn’t going to encounter another Danielle when she knocked on the door this time.

She stepped on the front porch, and peered through the door’s side window, trying to see inside. There was a light on in the house. She’d seen it from her back porch before she’d driven over. It was still on. She rang the doorbell and waited.

She’d surprised him, she could tell after he opened the door. She was surprised, too, by the smile that had broken out on his face when he saw her.

“What are you doing out so late?” he said, looking rumpled, sleepy and way sexy. He still had on his clothes though.

“Saw your light and I couldn’t sleep. Thought you might be able to help a sista out,” she said.

“You did, huh?” he said, smiling still, opening his door wider and holding his hand out, doing his best butler imitation, inviting her in. “Come on in,” he said.

“Said the spider to the fly,” she said, and they both laughed.

“I was watching TV over here on my couch. I love this couch,” he said, moving closer to her until his hips touched hers. He pulled her top up and over her head, leaned in and covered his mouth over hers. She loved the feel of his lips on hers, hungry, wet, and warm.

“And I thought I was fast,” she said, when he pulled away.

“It’s large, soft, and big enough for two… my couch is,” he said, kissing his way down her body, until he ended up, squatting in front of her. He gripped her shorts and pulled them down. “Nice,” he said, pointing to her underwear, before removing them too. He spread her legs, gripped her ass, and pulled her to him, leaning in to kiss her there.

“I think I should be seated on your nice, comfy couch for this,” she whispered, hands in his hair. He looked up and smiled his one-of–a-kind sultry smiles.

“No, you’re good here,” he said, and leaned in and kissed her there again. “Oh,” she said, followed by a low and heartfelt moan a minute later.

“Rafe,” she said, and held onto his shoulders a few minutes later as she came. He started again, bringing her to a climax, before starting again. He laughed as she sagged into his body later. He stood and kissed her mouth, hard and quick.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she said, when he pulled away and he laughed, lifting her as she sought to catch her breath. He laid her on the couch and slipped out of his shorts, pulling his shirt over his head and pulled a condom from what appeared to be from thin air. He had it on and his body covered hers before she could blink. He kissed her on the lips again while she was still searching for air. He pushed his knee in between her legs and entered her with one smooth thrust. He held her hips in his hands for a second while he acclimated himself to her warmth. And then he moved… pushed slowly into her and then out, and in and out again, pulling her legs around his back without missing a stroke. She felt good, easy, liquidy, and snug.

He groaned and pushed in again, took a breast into his mouth this time, a tug to the rhythm of his thrust, hitting the spot he’d just brought to life with his mouth.

“ Oh…” he said on a groan. He kissed her and groaned into her as he pushed, one last time, frozen in place by the power of his climax. He held himself still for a minute and then collapsed on top of her.

A few minutes later, he lifted his head and smiled.

“Stop by any time you want to,” he said, kissing her again.

“I’m going home tomorrow,” she said.

“What?” he asked, startled. “Going home?”

“Just to pick up some stuff—more clothes. I’ll be back,” she said, looking at him strangely, not sure what to make of his reaction.

He lifted himself off of her and looked down at her for a moment. It was cold now without him covering her.

“That’s good. I’ve got an egg delivery and then I’ll head to the farmer’s market in Buda,” he said, looking at her again before heading out of the room.

“You going to talk with your dad?” he shouted, before she heard the shower start up.

“Talk about what?” she said, standing up and walking toward the back of his home, following the sound of his voice. It was nice, his home, sort of empty. Basic, came to mind.

It was night, but the kitchen light over the sink was on. She scanned the parts of his home she could see. It had that new-home look—basic furniture, but not much else. No pictures in here or anywhere, for that matter, she thought, scanning the walls. There was a table with four chairs around it she noted, passing through the kitchen. The counters were clean. She walked toward the bathroom.

“What talk?” she said, surprised by the picture of him, leaning against the door frame—a perfect Mr. October, or whatever month he wanted to be.

“The one where you ask him not to sell,” he said, hands on his hips. He was some kind of sexy.

“I told you, it’s no use.”

“Try, Carter,” he said, and he was serious now.

“Maybe.”

“You can’t run scared all of your life,” he said, deciding to push her. His chest was churning in overdrive after what they’d just shared.

“I’m not running scared and you know what? I think I’ll go home now, because that was really nice what we had a few minutes ago and it’s about to be spoiled.”

“Don’t leave. It’s the truth and you can’t run from that,” he said.

“See you later,” she said, turning away. He pulled her to him, kissing her instead. Shower first. There is something I want to show you. There is something very special about this particular shower,” he said, smiling that smile again. She laughed and kissed him back.

#

“So, you’re going home tomorrow?” Rafael asked, over his shoulder, searching through his dresser for a t-shirt. He’d finished drying off after he and Carter’s cleansing shower. He was wiped, but in a good way, and he so wanted to crash. Carter had gone to the living room in search of her clothes.

“I am.”

“I think you should talk to your dad. Is there a sister that doesn’t want to sell?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I doubt it. Why?” she said.

“Maybe you should talk to them individually, try and find an ally,” he said.

“Maybe.”

“I’ve never known anyone before you that was so tentative about what she wanted, about getting it for herself.”

She shrugged.

“You remind me of myself with your love for your horses and that ranch. I’ve seen you talking and working with them. I know you love it,” he said.

“I do.”

“It wasn’t easy for me to go my own way. I understand more than you think. I also know if you don’t try, that can hang over your life going forward. You’ll be forever wondering what if, and if you can’t stand up now, for something that so clearly means the world to you, then you won’t ever stand.”

“I’m not you, Rafael. Your family is not mine. Your history is not my history.”

“I recognize someone who is afraid to try.”

“I enjoyed this. I’m going home now,” she said, pulling out her keys as she walked to the door.

“Carter,” he said. She held up her hand to thwart off any further comments from him.

“See you later,” she said.

He didn’t say anything, and stood there and watched her leave. He walked over and looked at the door after he heard her car start up. He stood at the door and watched her drive the short distance to her home and watched her go in several minutes later.

The soft sell wasn’t working. He’d needed to try harder. His chest had started up with its churning again.

#

Sunday morning

Carter pulled up to her apartment. It seemed like ages since she’d been here, but really it was just a month. She had two more months on her lease and she needed to make a decision regarding it and her life. Her crossroads.

Today she’d driven back to her apartment in search of more clothing. The few pairs of jeans she’d brought down with her were wearing thin, and not the most comfortable, either. She picked up her mail from the community mailboxes. Nothing there except a few bills. She could pay those from her laptop at the ranch.

She walked into her apartment. It was still clean, just as she’d left it. She headed to her bedroom, pulled out her larger suitcase and dumped things that would be appropriate for working with horses, repairing fences and playing maid. She grabbed her best grungy jeans that had cost her a couple of hundred bucks, and were almost too skinny to move in, but they’d looked great on.

She laughed. Clothes had been used as another weapon in her search for a man. All that seemed like a lifetime ago. She stuffed every pair of jeans she owned in her suitcase along with t-shirts that would work. She didn’t own a lot of those either. She packed up as best she could and went to her refrigerator. Empty. Her stomach rumbled.

Ten minutes later she was good to go, and heading back in the direction of her family’s ranch, passing through the city of Austin. Her mood lightened with each mile she’d put behind her. She was still hungry, so she made a spur-of-the-moment decision to go to that restaurant that was famous for its omelets, the one that used Rafael’s eggs—Omelets Inc.

She knew that Rafael was going to visit this morning—he had told her he would—but he was probably long gone by now. He was forever the early bird. He was something else. She sighed.

She’d seen what there was to see in his shower. It was something special and powerful and had her with her hands stretched outward, holding on to the front wall lest she fall. The shower was full blast in front of her and Rafe was full blast behind her.

Then he had to bring up the ranch again afterward, which irritated her, so she’d left, more than a little annoyed with him.

He’d seemed disappointed in her, and toward the end, angry. She could see it in his eyes, like he wanted her to be like him, and fight. She’d gotten tired of listening. What did he know? He hadn’t had to grow up with her father.

Not that she’d tell him, but a little bit of what he’d said was sinking in. Maybe she would put up a fight. “Be bold,” she said out loud. Right. She was bold on things that didn’t matter—breaking up Bentley’s wedding, skipping her curfew when she’d first gone to live with Gloria and the step-sisters, and that one time she’d run away—her first disaster.

What do you want, Carter? You mean besides Rafael in bed, forever
, she thought. She wanted to ranch. Honestly, she wanted her family’s ranch. She wanted to work with horses—horses owned by her—on her great-grandfather’s land, just as he’d wished. That was what she wanted more than anything, and knew that now like she knew her name. It was highly improbable that her father would hand over the reins to her; not to the one daughter who couldn’t meet his expectations in anything. She hadn’t even tried to explain that to Rafael-the-Pushy.