Baby, It's You (Uncharted SEALs Book 5) (6 page)

Feeling foolish, she quickly leapt into her saddle, nudged Adora’s sides and followed Carter’s dusty trail.

Carter didn’t slow
his horse until they’d entered the far pasture where the bulk of the herd was grazing. A couple of ranch hands sat atop their horses, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. The aroma wafted, mingling with the pungent scent of cow and manure. He watched as Melanie approached, bent over the neck of her mare, her cowboy hat bouncing off her back, kept from flying by the cord around her neck.

She was a sight. At one with her horse. Surprising, since he knew she hadn’t been raised around horses, had never ridden until the week of the wedding when he’d coaxed her into accompanying him to the bluff. She’d been nervous, something her horse had tried to take advantage of, refusing to budge, at first, then ignoring Melanie’s clumsy reining. He’d been forced to take the reins and lead her horse behind his. Not that he’d minded. He’d enjoyed hearing her berate her horse, the hard saddle—him for suggesting the outing. But they’d both been ready to escape the crush of the other wedding guests.

The ride had been frustrating in more ways than one. Her gaze had landed on him repeatedly, but he’d done his best to ignore her interest. All the while, he’d been keenly aware of her lovely curves, itching to explore them with his hands. But he’d been just as aware of the fact that Melanie wasn’t the type of woman he could indulge his impulses with. She was family. He’d tried like hell to keep that fact foremost in his mind while they’d kept company.

She was even more tempting now. The years had padded her frame, adding to her gentle curves. Her breasts stretched the tee she wore. Her firm round ass curved nicely against the saddle. Her red-gold hair, which had escaped her hair band, floated around her shoulders. Pervert that he was, he could well imagine those lovely curls bouncing around her lush breasts as she rode him…

As if she’d ever give him another chance. He’d used her and left her. Then he’d dumped his responsibility for Emmy squarely on her shoulders. That she’d been the right choice didn’t matter. That he hadn’t been in a good place to shoulder the load didn’t matter. He’d never tried to step up. Never reached out. After all that, how could she ever learn to trust him again?

He still wasn’t ready. His future was cloudy. Skilled only at killing, he was the last person she should want in her or Emmy’s lives.

Drawing near, Melanie pulled back on the reins, and her mare danced a bit as they both came to halt beside him.

“You look good on a horse.”

“Your dad taught me to ride. Gave me this horse, seeing as he thought anyone who lives on a ranch should know how.”

Carter nodded. “Sounds like him. Glad you took to it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I was afraid if I didn’t, he’d never respect me.”

“Well, he does. And respect isn’t something he gives easily.”

She glanced toward the cattle below them. “Heard you spent the morning with him. How’d that go?”

“Better than yesterday. He has some color in his cheeks.”

“Ms. Davis says he’s feeling restless. That’s a good sign.” She turned to look at him. “You’re good for him. It’s possible he could hold on a little longer than we thought.”

Carter pressed his lips together. He didn’t like thinking his dad’s health might be reliant on his being there. He wasn’t staying. “Don’t see how I’m making any difference, other than he might be trying to get better so he can kick my ass.”

Melanie arched a brow. “Think you deserve it?”

Carter met her watchful gaze. “You tell me.”

She swallowed and glanced down at the reins wrapped around her fist. “I don’t hold any grudge, Carter. Not over Emmy. She’s been a gift.”

Something eased inside his chest. “I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t handle things well after Daniel passed.”

“We heard from your commander that you’d been through a rough firefight, lost people close to you. Can’t have been easy to hear your brother was gone, too.”

Carter’s face tightened. “Don’t make excuses for me. I’ve lost people. Wasn’t the first time…won’t be the last.”

“Then why didn’t you come?”

Her voice was soft, a hint of a cry in her tone. Looking at her, at the faint line on her cheek, he knew she’d been through hell. “I didn’t think my being here would make things easier. My father…” He drew a deep breath. “I didn’t want to be here and for him to turn to me and say it should have been me.”

Her eyes filled, but she glanced away and cleared her throat. “It’s hard to imagine him being that cruel. He’s been nothing but kind to me and Emmy.”

“You weren’t around when I was growing up. You didn’t see how it was…after Mom died.”

“No one talks about what happened. Tilda mutters. Hints about it being your fault.” She gave him a steady stare. “Don’t you think I should know? So I can understand what stands between you two?”

The last thing Carter wanted to do was talk about his mother’s death. But she was right. She’d lived here long enough to know there was bad blood. And she had a right to know exactly what kind of man he was. Then maybe, she’d stop looking at him with longing. Stop romanticizing there was anything redeemable inside him. Carter tightened his jaw. “Let’s head to the creek.”

‡

T
he creek sat
at the bottom of a ravine. The sides were steep due to erosion from flash floods that plagued this part of Texas. So, they left their horses tethered to a scrub oak at the rim, and Carter held her hand as they climbed downward to a sandy bank.

There, he dusted off a large flat rock before they seated themselves side by side.

Melanie remained quiet, not wanting to say or do anything that might change his mind about confiding in her. She was ready to hear about the incident that had left such a dark scar on the Vance family.

She’d always been mystified by the two elders’ attitude toward Carter. He was a SEAL. A war hero. There was plenty to be proud about that fact.

All she knew was that Susan Vance had died due to a car accident. Fresh flowers sat beneath a lonely wooden cross beside the spot on the highway where she’d passed. She’d been with Papa a couple of times when he’d stopped to lay fresh bouquets there. A sight that always filled her with sadness.

And now, she was about to hear the truth. She hoped the explanation would tell her why there was such a strained relationship between father and son.

She and Carter sat still for a long time, the sounds of birds chirping and the gurgling of the stream filling in the silence.

At last, Carter took off his hat and held it between his two hands as he gazed out at the water. “I came second. Mom couldn’t have any more kids. And I wasn’t an easy kid to raise. I wasn’t Daniel.” He glanced upward at the sun and squinted.

A little smile curved the side of his mouth she could see. Her chest tightened, knowing how hard it was to follow a sibling who could do no wrong. One who was smarter, gifted even. “I’m sure your mom and dad didn’t expect you to be Daniel.” Her own parents had been a little disappointed in her grades, but they’d been supportive all the same, careful not to draw comparisons.

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “Mom was more forgiving, but Dad had little patience. I was always in trouble—too restless to sit still in class. Sure, I excelled at sports, but so did Daniel. Plus, he was smarter. Got great grades. Worked hard for it. I didn’t give a damn. Once he’d left for college, all their attention came down on me. I rebelled.”

His expression hardened, and she braced herself not to react, because she knew what he’d say next would be shattering.

“One weekend, not long before graduation, I partied with friends. Got drunk on one of their parents’ bottles of Patron. Next thing I knew, I was in jail. I called the house. My dad said I could stay in jail until I saw the judge. Said maybe it would give me some time to think. After the call, I laid on my bunk to sleep it off. When I woke up, it was to hear from a deputy that my mom had been killed on the highway on her way to bail me out. My dad blamed me for her death. And he was right to do so. She wouldn’t have been out there on that road in the middle of the night if I hadn’t screwed up.”

Melanie sat still for a moment longer, processing. She knew an empty platitude would only anger him. Not knowing what to say to ease his pain, she reached for one of the hands crushing the brim of his hat, and pulled it free. Then she threaded her fingers between his and leaned against his shoulder.

“Not gonna say it wasn’t my fault?” he asked, his voice rough as gravel.

“Would you feel any less guilty?” she whispered.

His hand nearly crushed hers as he tightened his fingers around hers. “I went into the Navy to escape. Not because I was brave or wanted to be a hero. I ran from my guilt.”

“And you became a SEAL.” She angled her head upward. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Fastest way to die.”

The way his voice rasped, tightened the knot at the back of her throat. “Things didn’t work out that way.”

His breaths were coming faster, and his expression was growing harsh and bleak. “I saw plenty of dying. Insurgents, innocents, friends. And every time, I asked God why…why it wasn’t me.”

And at last she understood that hint of bleakness that was always there in his eyes. She understood why he held himself apart—aloof and cold. Carter carried around enough pain; he didn’t want any more.

But Melanie wanted to be closer; she needed to comfort him. Her desire was instinctual. Not a mother’s wanting to soothe a scraped knee—but a woman’s to ease a man’s loss, to fill his emptiness. She withdrew her hand then moved in front of him.

When he glanced upward, she had to fight tears because his gaze was stark and haunted.

Melanie did the only thing she could think of doing that he wouldn’t reject. She pushed at his shoulders to force him to sit straighter. Then she climbed over his lap, straddling his thighs to press her breasts against his hard chest and bring their faces nearer.

His gaze locked with hers. Moisture from tears he’d never shed shimmered in his blue eyes.

Melanie let go of her vow to protect herself from hurt, to cloak her heart from being broken. Carter needed her. He needed connection. Comfort. He needed sweet distraction, too.

The kiss she gave him was filled with forgiveness—hers for the pain and complication he’d left her with. But the moment her mouth touched his, the urge to comfort dissipated as that old familiar spark ignited—and five years might as well have been a minute. Desire fanned an ember that exploded like wildfire consuming bone-dry brush. Heat swept over her skin and settled between her thighs. She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t draw a deep breath. And in her mind, she chanted,
Yes, yes, yes
…

Carter gripped her
hips to hold her away. He didn’t want a pity fuck—if that was what she was offering. He tried not to read too much into the eager press of her lips.
It’s only a kiss. Just a kiss…

But to him, it was so much more. She knew what he’d done to his mother. How he’d failed her and Emmy. And still, she was here in his arms. He didn’t deserve her, but he couldn’t refuse. She was warm and fragrant, all her soft curves mashing against his hard edges. He let go of her hips and wound his arms around her back, bringing her body closer.

And then he returned her kiss, groaning as he opened his mouth and prodded the seam of her closed lips until she let him inside. Their tongues dueled and stroked, and then she began moving, grinding down on his cock, which was quickly filling and strangling inside his jeans.

She pulled away, gasping, her gaze searching his.

Carter forced himself to do the right thing. Offer her an out. “Sure you want this, Mel?”

In answer, she leaned away, tugged her tee free of her jeans, and drew it over her head.

His hands closed over the cups of her lacy bra, squeezing them, watching as her tanned flesh overfilled the top of her bra. She reached behind her and unhooked the bra, and he slid his hands beneath the cups to palm her full breasts. Her tips were tightly beaded. The soft mounds quivered. He bent and nosed beneath the lace to fasten his mouth over one spiked tip and pulled it into his mouth.

Her breath caught. Her fingers dug into his scalp.

He pulled off her breast, tongued the rigid tip, then slicked his mouth across her skin to the other breast.

Melanie drew away the bra and tossed it to the ground. While he nibbled and sucked, she opened her belt, thumbed open the button, and slid down her zipper. She pushed at the waistband, but her spread thighs prevented her from exposing herself.

He slid his fingers into the opening and dove between her legs, finding her wet slit. Gathering moisture, he used it to toggle her clit while she ground against his hand, her fingers once again pulling at his hair.

Her cries were soft with jagged edges. The tension in her soft frame wound tighter and tighter as he fingered her and bit down on her breasts. She was coming apart, trembling against him, and he was hard and desperate to be inside her, but he’d give her this. No matter how painful his need.