Dateline: Kydd and Rios (24 page)
But he knew he hurt less because she was with him. He knew his thoughts were evening out because she was near, within touching distance if he needed her. He took off his hat and with a snap of his wrist sent it sailing across the pasture to the pussy willows crowding the river.
Sarah watched the black Stetson float through the air and land on a willow branch. When he shrugged out of his shirt and went for his belt buckle, she looked away. She had enough problems without watching him strip down to his underwear. Or so she told herself just before her glance strayed back to where he’d sat down by the riverbank to take off his boots.
Sunlight caught in his white-blond hair and shone along the hard brown length of his arms. His chest was sleekly muscled, his belly ridged and tight. He finished taking off his boots and rose to drop his jeans. She unconsciously held her breath for an instant, capturing her bottom lip with her teeth. The pants came down.
He was hopelessly beautiful, and she loved him beyond reason. The pent-up breath released on a pained sigh. With Colt, the lines between right and wrong grew so damned thin, it was hard to think straight.
Strong legs corded with muscle carried him to the river’s edge. His buttocks moved in graceful rhythm beneath the white cotton of his shorts. She watched him dip in and stretch out in the shallows, then kick off and slide deep beneath the water to where the brown trout reigned.
She wanted to know so much about him, everything. She wanted to know how he breathed in his sleep, and what made him so elemental, able to slip into the river and rise again, water flying from his hair, freezing like anybody would, but somehow not minding.
He didn’t last too long, though, and soon he was padding back across the strip of pasture between the river and his truck, his shirt flapping open, his jeans damp in spots from his wet legs, his boots hanging from his fingers.
With one lithe movement of bunched biceps and tensed thighs, he levered himself into the back of the pickup, where she had laid out their impromptu picnic.
“Thanks,” he said, sitting down and accepting the sandwich she handed him. “You always make the best sandwiches.”
It was a compliment of sorts, and Sarah hid her quick grin. Truth was, Colt would eat anything that didn’t eat him first, no matter what it tasted like. She was still pleased. For being so crazy in love with him, she had the strangest surge of maternal instincts with him. She didn’t want to be his mother—she had enough mothering with four younger brothers—but she sure liked taking care of him.
“How was the river?” she asked.
“Cold.” A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
She laughed. “Didn’t seem to bother you.”
“I’m tough.” His gaze caught hers, and the moment of lightness passed. His darkening eyes, filled with a hundred messages, held her motionless beneath the flickering shade and muted sunlight sifting through the cottonwood trees. “I’m leaving, Sarah.”
She’d known the words before he’d spoken, and the answer she’d built in her heart was quickly on her lips. “No.”
He shrugged and lowered his gaze to take a bite of sandwich.
“No, Colt,” she insisted, feeling strong and right. “Nothing can be that bad. There’s no reason to leave.”
“There’s no reason to stay.”
She would have hit him for the thoughtless insult, if she could have hit him at all. Instead, she got to her feet, angry and awkward in her haste to get away. He just as quickly pulled her back down, holding her on her knees in front of him. The bed of the truck was hot through her jeans. His hand was tight around her upper arm, his gaze piercing.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, glaring at him, her anger unabated.
“Will you leave with me?”
“Yes.” There was nothing to hold her in Rock Creek except a lifetime of memories, some good, some not so good, and some downright bad. She was signed up for college in the fall, but she wouldn’t lose Colt for college. She wouldn’t lose him for anything.
“Will you make love with me?” His voice grew more intense, his grip tighter. “Now?”
She stared at him long and hard, then jerked her arm free. “Is this some kind of test?”
He swore and dropped his chin to his chest. When she made a move to leave, he grabbed her again, his hand wrapping around her wrist too tightly for comfort. “No, Sarah. This isn’t a test.” His lashes slowly lifted, and she saw all his hurt return. “This is real. I want you. I want to make you mine, because I’m leaving and I’m going to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me, Colt,” she promised, her tone softening.
A shuttered look of defeat shadowed his face. “Can’t have you. Can’t lose you. What in the hell am I supposed to do?”
She felt helpless. “What’s wrong, Colt? What’s happened?”
“My mom—” He paused and took a steadying breath. “My mom has a new boyfriend.”
“Is that so bad?” She didn’t understand. If anybody deserved a little happiness, it was Amanda Haines.
“He’s married.”
“Oh.”
“And I think she owes him money.” He didn’t think it, he knew it. The man was the landlord of his mother’s beauty shop, and there was never enough money to spread over the bills.
Dammit all
. He worked two jobs besides running their small herd of stock. She could have his money, his school fund. All she had to do was ask. Or they could sell the damn ranch. It wasn’t much of a place to begin with and once he went to school, they wouldn’t be able to keep any stock on it at all.
It took Sarah a minute, but she finally pieced together what he was getting at. The awful truth didn’t change her reaction, except to make it sadder.
“I’m sorry, Colt.”
His eyes snapped up to hers, flashes of white burning in the cerulean depths. A sneer curled his lips. “My mother is a whore and you’re sorry. Thank you.”
She would have slapped him then for calling his mother a whore, but he was too fast, rising to his feet. She grabbed his arm instead and stumbled upright to stand in front of him.
“You’ve got no call to go—”
He silenced her with a quick shake of his head, but had nothing to say—nothing he could choke out around the growing lump in his throat.
Sarah saw the change in him and reacted immediately. “Colt, you’ve got it all wrong. Hell, half this town is sleeping with the other half, and they’re all married to somebody else, and it’s not just this town. My aunt who works in a bank in Cheyenne, she says those folks are fooling around all the time.”
“It’s different when it’s your mother.” He spoke the words as damning fact, not opinion.
“Different for you,” she said. “Not different for your mom. She’s just like everybody else, looking for some love.”
The look he gave her tore through her with searing heat. “Just like me, Sarah?” he asked, moving closer. “Looking for some love from you?” He slid his hands down over her hips and pulled her tightly against him, claiming her with the action.
“Colt . . .” Her voice trailed off, tremulous.
“Marry me tomorrow,” he whispered roughly, lowering his mouth to hers. “But be my wife today.”
* * * * * *
Thank you for reading
Dateline: Kydd and Rios
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