“James,” she says, wild and high.
“That’s it, love,” he rumbles, wrapping her hair around one fist and giving a tug. Not hard, but enough to send shivers through her skin at the same time he’s hitting the spot that makes her feel so hot and tight and impatient and—
“James,”she says urgently, and she’s there, she’s lost, she’s coming like she might black out and biting her own fist to keep from screaming.
She’s barely returned to herself enough to feel the patter of water on her skin when she feels him slide out and away. “Oh,” she says, disappointed. She hadn’t wanted to miss that, but it’s entirely possible she would have missed a meteor strike.
“No,” he says tightly, shutting off the water with one quick twist. “Come on. We’re going home.” He pulls his own shirt over her head, curses as he eases his pants back on, and they race through camp on flimsy legs, miraculously meeting no one.
Inside, he has the shirt up and his pants down and her back on the bed in what feels like a blink. They’re both still wet, their skin cool at first, then warming where they touch. He hovers over her, brushing against her everywhere, letting himself come back to full hardness.
“I wanted it to be here,” he murmurs, dropping kisses on her eyes, her temples, the corners of her mouth. “I wanted to look at you. I wanted to stay inside you afterward, instead of having to—” He rolls his eyes to indicate the ridiculousness they just went through. “All right there?” He nudges her, hot and eager again.
God, he’s so…soeverything.She reaches up to kiss him, and he pushes in, his eyes closing in relief.
“Oh, it’s…oh,Ripley,it’s—” His body jolts into her helplessly, his head hanging low from his straining shoulders.
“I know,” she whispers, and she could come again, but she needs to see this happen. She needs every moment, every broken gasp and shuddering breath, every time he tries to keep his eyes locked on hers and a surge of feeling has them slamming shut.
When he can’t hold his slow pace anymore, there are three hard, quick thrusts with a harsh sound at the deepest part of every one, and he’s saying her name, and he’s never been more hers than he is at this moment.
This one moment.
35
August 21:
Seven Days Until the End of the Summer Excavation Season
A gust of wind breaks over Yellowtail Ranch as the rear door of the box truck rolls closed with a hollow thud.
Ripley cinches the strap of her straw sun hat under her chin. If it blows away, there’ll be no catching it, and she’ll have to borrow a cowboy hat from Geraldine if she doesn’t want a sunburned nose.
A minute ago, as she patted the crates one last time, she caught herself wondering if the fossils would recognize her today. For one thing, she’s left her hair down, the way James likes it. She catches him looking as the wind toys with the long, loose curls, a considering angle to his mouth. His gaze dips to the fit of her jeans across her thighs, the fancy stitching on her western boots, the touch of her belly flashing as the breeze flirts with the ruffled hem of her top. She gives him a deliberately flirty wink. He laughs, but there’s a promise in his eyes:Later, Ripley.
Griff throws the latch to the cargo hold with a clank that echoes beneath her ribs. He and James each take one of Geraldine’s dollies and head toward the barn, chatting amiably. Those two never seem to run out of stuff to say.
Cara smooths her hands down Ripley’s arms and gives her agentle shake. “You can still come to the scanner, Rip. You don’t have to be all WASPy and pretend you’re not sad.”
Ripley shakes her head. She’s been ridiculous already—stroking the crates, talking to Beauty and Beast like they’re not millions of years dead, their bones merely placeholders in the Montana dirt.
“It’s your rodeo now, C. Besides, this is where I’d rather say goodbye.”
With no warning, Cara pulls her in for a tight hug. “We made it, Rip. We fucking made it, and the haters can suck it.”
“You betcha,” Ripley agrees, hugging Cara back. The embrace lasts for maybe ten seconds, a spark that glows and fades in the space of a breath. There’s a week left to close up the dig, but today feels like the beginning of the end.
“You’re a good teacher, Rip. A good mentor. A good friend. I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I’ll be here when you get back. And I’ll miss you too. Both of you. All of you,” Ripley says, tilting her head in the direction of the dig. She can feel it in her chest, this place. Maybe she always will. “More than you know.”
“Oh, I think I know.” Cara smirks saucily, but the corner of her mouth wobbles a little.
They’ve given the exhausted crew an extra-long weekend as a thank-you for a month of manic work. Cara and Griff are going to drop off the fossils, return the truck to the rental place, then spend the weekend at the folk festival in Butte. The rest of the crew left early this morning, Jordin and Matteo to spend a few days at his family reunion in West Yellowstone, the twins headed to Yellowstone National Park for some hiking and sightseeing.
Ripley considered one last road trip for herself and James, but he wanted to spend the weekend here. They’re going to ride overto a tiny local fair in a nearby farmer’s field, then come home, together.
Griff calls, “We better rattle our dags, Carrie love. Don’t want to miss that appointment.”
