A GRUNTescapes my throat as I drive the pitchfork into the ice that has a top layer of slush from the ice melt Mason spread across the paddock yesterday, the slush has made it even more slick. The sleet stopped early in the morning the day before yesterday, but the clouds have blocked the sun from melting any of it.
Then the below freezing temperatures last night refroze the top layer that melted yesterday. The temperature has hung around at under twenty degrees during the day and dropping into single digits at night, so not much has melted. I hate fucking ice storms.
Elly didn’t come down for breakfast this morning, and I know it’s because of me. Maybe it’s for the best, I had no business kissing her last night, but when I’m around her, my common sense leaves me. I know I practically mauled her lastnight, and I feel like a giant asshole.
I never meant to scare her. When I walked into the kitchen and saw her on that barstool to reach the higher glasses, it was not only cute because she’s so short but also sexy as hell. I wanted to reach out and hold her to make sure she didn’t fall, but I worried that would scare her, so I made a joke and scared her anyway.
I barely slept last night because of it. When she opened to me and I got a taste of her, all rational thought flew out the window. All I wanted was to touch her, taste her, feel her heat wrapped around me. Until I heard her soft, beautiful moan. It was at that moment when I realized I was about to fuck her on the counter if I didn’t stop.
Then, when I saw the hurt and disappointment in her eyes when I apologized for fucking manhandling her, the guilt burned my throat. As much as I wanted to be sorry I kissed her, I wasn’t, I wanted to make it right, to let her know I didn’t regret kissing her, but she pulled away from me before I could tell her.
Once she pulled away, I started to go after her, but to be honest, I wondered if it was in everyone’s best interest if she thought I did.
Driving the pitchfork into the ground again with a little more force than is necessary, I pause to take a look around the paddock and push my hat up a little to let out some of the hot air. We just have to get through the next few days until the roads clear, then we can put this behind us. Thinking about driving her back to Tulsa, never to see her again, creates a hollow space in my gut I’m trying not to think about.
Then there’s the matter of my sister, Marley. She avoided looking at me at breakfast yesterday morning, but I’m not sure if it was because she didn’t want to make me uncomfortable after walking in on Elly and me the night before, or if it had something to do with Jax leaving. Before heand Mason left yesterday morning, I walked past the family room to see the two of them in front of the fireplace.
Marley maintained her usual distance she does from any man—several feet—and kept her arms crossed over her stomach, her customary stance around men. But what made me skid to a stop was seeing her let Jax move a strand of hair off her forehead. The action was slow, he was giving her the chance to move away, but she didn’t.
My sister doesn’t let anyone touch her.
They both looked in my direction when I stopped, and she ducked her head before she walked past me to go to the kitchen. The protective brother in me roared to life and watched Jax, daring him to follow her. His gaze stayed on her until she was around the corner and then moved to me, his expression didn’t change, but he didn’t attempt to follow her.
I’ve been battling with myself over whether I should say anything. I don’t know Jax. Mason trusts him with his life, but from what I’ve heard, he’s just a man whore, always on the lookout for his next piece of ass. That willnotbe my sister. I will put a bullet in the head of any man who thinks he is going to use my sister. Marley knows that.
On the flip side, Marley is not afraid to say no. She is unapologetically who she wants to be, and I know she would let me know if anyone made her uncomfortable.
So, I walked away from Jax and left him standing in front of the fireplace. But it’s been on my mind since.
Just a few days ago, it was a normal day. Fucking hell. When did my world turn on its side?
Looking at dad, who is leaning against the fence watching me, I say, "It's not safe, we should wait another day."
He nods and pulls his coat collar tighter around his neck. "At this rate, they may not get to come out tomorrow either, we'll just have to let them take turns in the run-in for a while."
I nod and we both start walking to the barn to get hay forthe run-in inside the stables. If anything, the horses can stretch their legs a little in the open area which leads outside into the paddock.
Throughout dinner, Elly avoided looking at me. My need to have her attention is in complete opposition to my need to avoid her because of who she is and why she’s here. It’s been on my mind all day and it’s making me crazy.
This woman is making me crazy.
One minute I’ve convinced myself the best thing is for her to leave, then the next minute I see those beautiful brown eyes and that gorgeous smile in my mind, and I want to feel her against me again. She fit against me perfectly when I held her last night.
I’ve been tossing and turning in my bed for hours, feeling restless deep into my bones. Even taking a cold shower before I got in bed didn’t help, I was still hard as a rock and, eventually, I gave in to turning the water to hot to give myself some relief.
Picking up my phone to check the time, I curse under my breath when I see it’s nearly one thirty, so I get out of bed and slip my feet into my house shoes. If I’m awake anyway, I may as well check the fireplaces and make sure Lainey Rai’s covered and warm.
Of course she’s kicked her covers off, her thermal pajamas and the blankets are probably keeping her too warm, but I pull her blankets back up over her and kiss her head. Stopping to look at her, I’m amazed at how much more like her mama she looks every day.
My thoughts go to Sarah, and I wonder what she is thinking of me now. Is she watching over us? Is she happy with how I’ve been raising our daughter? If she were here, would she pinch me on my ribs like she always used to do to get my attention and tell me to snap out of it?
Leaving the door open to help her room stay warm, I stepout into the hall and hang my head, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose.
It’s been six years since I saw her smiling face, but in my mind’s eye I can still picture her clear as day when I want to. I can still hear her laugh, and her sigh when she was irritated with me. She was my first kiss, my first date, my first clumsy sex in the bed of my truck. It took me a couple of years to be comfortable with trying, but the first time I was with another woman, the guilt practically ate me up.
Even though I crave the companionship I had with my wife, every woman I’ve let myself get close to is eventually hurt because of the guilt I feel. After my last ‘relationship’, I told myself I didn’t have any business being with a woman until I can get past it.
It’s then that I realize I didn’t feel guilty last night after I very nearly carried Elly to my bed. The irony of the situation has me shaking my head, I shouldn’t be attracted to her. I shouldn’t want to pull her into me and kiss her more than I want my next meal.
