Slow Ride Home (The Grady Legacy) (16 page)

Maybe that moment had been the beginning of the end of their marriage.

“Tell you what. Let’s go over to Fort Worth, get a big order of ribs at your favorite restaurant down in the Stockyards.”

“You’ve got a deal.” The gratitude in Ben’s voice, along with the reassuring squeeze he gave her shoulder, melted the objections deep inside Allie’s chest. “Oh, shit. I forgot. I promise Ma I’d stop in at Gram’s and say hi. She’s not far from here. It’ll take like a half hour and then we’ll ease out the door, I promise.”

It turned out that Agnes Grady lived only a couple of blocks away in a very upscale condominium. “She lives alone,” Ben explained as they rode the elevator to the fourth floor. “It’s not like it’s a nursing home but each floor has a full-time nurse to check in on the residents every day, make sure they’re okay and that they’re eating properly and taking their meds. It takes a load off Mom’s mind, knowing Gram’s taken care of.”

“I know it’s none of my business but this part of town is expensive, how can your family afford it?” Maybe Agnes’s brother paid her bills? Though from what she gathered of Charlie Carter, while his office might be designed to impress his clients, he wasn’t one to spend money if he didn’t think it would come back to him threefold.

Ben held open the door while she stepped off the elevator. “You gotta remember, Gram’s a Carter of the Carter Valley Carters.” He made air quotes round the Carter Valley Carters part. “She has her own money that her father made sure was kept separate from the Bull’s Hollow finances.”

“In other words, she’s loaded.”

“She’s not up there with Alice Walton or Ross Perot, but yeah, she’s rich.”

“So if the bank does decide to freeze any accounts, she could probably fund you until we get this sorted out.”

Ben snorted. “Are you kidding? Gram wouldn’t open her checkbook to pay one penny of Pop’s medical bills when he fell off a tractor and hurt his back a few years back. If she couldn’t even help out her own son when he was sick, she’s not about to give me a break.”

“Why?”

“Because she claims she was forced to marry Gramps and live on the ranch when she wanted to live in the city and have...well, the life Logan’s living now.”

That might explain the woman’s constantly sour attitude when Allie had known her. “What do you mean, forced to marry your grandfather? Did she get pregnant and have a shotgun wedding?”

“No, but it was sort of an arranged marriage.” He stopped in front of a door with a brass plaque proclaiming it to be the Carter Suite. “Back in the fifties, before Gramps married Gram, Bull’s Hollow was on the verge of bankruptcy. From the way Gramps told it, some of it was because of some bad decisions my great-grandfather made, but most of it was because there was a really bad drought back then and they couldn’t feed their cattle and had no hay to sell. Gram’s father had money but he was seeking a seat on the Senate and one of his handlers told him he could swing the rural vote if he had ties to a ranch instead of just banks and stocks and crap, right? According to Gram, he sat her down and told her that if she was a good daughter, she’d help out her father by marrying Gramps.”

“She could have said no.”

“Maybe. But the story is that her father threatened to cut off any inheritance unless she gave in.” He knocked on the door and called to announce himself. “So she did, but she was smart too and other than allowing her father to give George a very large check as a wedding present, enough to get Bull’s Hollow back in the black, she got her father’s lawyers to tie up her inheritance so Gramps could never touch it.”

Allie had to admire Agnes’s thinking considering the environment of that day and age. But what type of mother refused to pitch in when her son or grandsons were in need?

The door swung open, revealing Agnes Grady herself. The last decade hadn’t been kind to Agnes. The once strong-backed woman was bent over a walker, her hair completely white and much thinner than Allie remembered.

Despite the fragility of her appearance, her eyes were still sharp. They darted over Allie briefly, as if she were deciding if she were a threat, then settled on her grandson.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Gram.” He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Can’t a guy drop in to visit his favorite grandmother?”

Agnes’s lips thinned when her gaze returned to Allie. “Brought me another girlfriend to meet, huh?”

Another? He’d been serious enough about someone to introduce her to his grandmother? While Ben sputtered, Agnes let her gaze drop in another pointed inspection of Allie. “Well, you’re dressed better than some of the girls he’s dated. What do you do? Do you work?”

Wow, Agnes didn’t recognize her. Had she changed that much or had Agnes’s usually keen memory started to fade? “Yes, ma’am.” She held out her hand. “I’m A. J. O’Keefe.”

“And what do you do for a livin’, A. J. O’Keefe?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer, huh. You sue people? Then take most of their money?” The lips got thinner. Apparently that hadn’t scored her any points. “Well, take a seat the both of you.”

Allie followed her in to the suite. It was even bigger than her apartment and should have been spacious except Agnes must have moved every single bit of furniture from her house into the apartment. Boxes were stacked up along one wall, reaching to the ceiling. Papers piled onto the table, and more filled boxes underneath.

Agnes claimed the only empty chair, so as they talked, Ben set about moving some of his grandmother’s belongings from one of the dining room chairs for Allie to sit in.

While the two of them chatted, Allie was quite happy to stay in the background, letting Ben gently question his grandmother about his grandfather, about their relatives and where they’d gone and about family scandals. Not that it did any good. She doubted Agnes would reveal anything with a stranger present. After all, Gradys looked after their own. Including keeping their secrets.

Allie touched Ben’s arm in a signal that he could stop his questions. “Maybe your grandmother would like a coffee or tea?”

“That’s a great idea. You mind if I try out that new coffee machine Jake bought you for Christmas, Gram?” Without waiting for his grandmother’s approval, Ben jumped to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with three cups on a tray. When Agnes complained about a closet door with loose hinges, Ben produced a screwdriver from somewhere—it couldn’t have been in one of his back pockets, Allie decided, not without making sitting down extremely uncomfortable.

“I keep a half dozen tools in a box under the kitchen sink,” he explained quietly as he worked. “Gram’s always got some chore for us to do whenever we visit. I think it makes her still feel in charge. Like someone cares about her.”

She stifled the girlie “aww” that sprang to her lips. “For all your complaining, you care about her.”

Not that she couldn’t tighten a screw herself, but it would be nice having a guy who didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. The way his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders sent a shiver of delight zinging straight to her girly parts.

“What are you two talking about over there?” Agnes called.

“Just explaining about how we like to take care of you, Gram.” He opened and closed the door to make sure it no longer sagged. “All fixed.”

Agnes pulled herself to her feet and, unlocking the walker, made her way over to the closet to inspect Ben’s handiwork. “You’re a good boy.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “Handy, just like your daddy.”

Her lips thin once again, she thumped past Allie on the way back to the table. “You’re better than some of the girls he’s dated, but don’t get your hopes up on having my boy put a ring on your finger without my say so.”

“Gram,” Ben warned.

“Oh, enough of you. This one won’t last. Not once she realizes what life on a ranch is really like. It’s not glamorous, girl. And you’ll be expected to pitch in and help no matter what the weather. And if you’re thinking he’s rich so he can buy you more of those fancy shoes you’re wearing or a designer dress, think again. He may have land, but he’d have to sell it, and he won’t. Because he loves it, just like his father and his grandfather did.”

“That’s right, Gram. I love it. I always will.” He bent to kiss her cheek, a look of strained patience on his face. “But Ms. O’Keefe isn’t after your money or my land, don’t worry.” He retrieved his hat from the hook by the door. “It’s been nice seein’ you again but it’s time for us to go. I promised Allie I’d take her to the Stockyards before she has to go back to Houston.”

“Allie?” Agnes’ gaze sharpened on her again. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re that thief Pete Daniel’s daughter, aren’t you? What are you doin’ back with my grandson, you little gold-digger?”

Allie froze in place. Before she could reply, Ben stepped between them, his jaw cranked down hard. “Gram. Stop it. I will not tolerate you being rude to her.”

To Allie’s surprise, Agnes shut up. Then again, she doubted the old woman could have held her own against Ben’s ire. Agnes’s chin raised defiantly. “Then I guess you’d better go before I say something you’ll regret.”

“You already have. Come on, Allie. We’re leaving.” He straightened and clamped on his hat. “Gram, I’ll drop by to see you again next week if I can.”

He closed the door firmly behind him. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re not responsible for her behavior.” She wrestled with the sick
you’re not good enough
sensation welling up inside, reminding herself that she’d graduated college, passed the bar and was a lawyer, that she wasn’t the whore Agnes’s husband had claimed.

“I should have anticipated what might happen though.” Ben rubbed his thumb in light circles on her palm. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I won’t.” Why should she let one bitter old woman have the power to make her feel bad again? Ben believed her. Hell, it didn’t matter who did or didn’t believe her. She knew the truth. That’s all that mattered. She straightened her shoulders. “What’s that saying? ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent’? Well, I don’t consent.”

Of course it had taken her over a decade to learn that lesson.

“Good for you.” He brushed a kiss over her lips, then deepened the kiss when the elevator dinged.

“Damn it, the elevator’s timing sucks,” Ben grumbled. He stepped back as the doors slid open and Jake walked out.

“What are you doing here?” Ben snapped. “You were supposed to be working with the team refencing Juniper pasture.”

“We finished early.” Jake explained, a hint of rancor in his tone. “Besides, Mom asked me to bring Gram some stuff.” He held up a bag then dropped his voice as his gaze slid toward Allie. “I figured maybe I’d see if Gram had that...thing we were talking about, you know when we were in the hot tub the other day?”

“Thing?” Comprehension flickered across Ben’s face. “Oh. Yeah. Good idea.”

“See you at home, bro. Nice seeing you again, Allie.” Jake pushed between them and strode down the hall.

Allie followed Ben into the now-empty elevator and stared at Jake until the doors closed and obstructed her view. “Should I ask about what
thing
you were talking about?”

“I told him about the video—asked him to keep an eye out for it. He thinks that if Gramps did have it, and if he hadn’t destroyed it, Gram may have it now.” Ben squeezed her hand, a look of sympathy on his face. “We’re going to keep looking until we find it, okay?”

A confusion of emotions flooded Allie—relief that he really did believe her, and that Jake did too. Gratitude that Jake would help look for it. Fear that they might not find it, and without physical proof decide it had never existed and she was making everything up.

Chapter Ten

Lunch at Fort Worth relaxed Ben’s shoulders and made Allie glad she’d agreed to play hooky for the rest of the day. After they shared a plate of ribs and fries down at the Stockyards, they wandered through the lane of tourist trap stores then headed up the street to check out a store selling real cowboy hats, not the type found in the touristy shops.

Allie laughed as he tried on a huge white ten-gallon hat. “Not your style, Hoss.”

He placed the hat back on the rack with a fond pat. “Hoss was Pop’s favorite of all the Cartwrights. He once told me that he remembered sitting on Gramp’s lap, watching it when he was little. Then Gram told me the same story when we were waiting at the hospital after his accident. One day I want...” He shook his head.

“What? One day you want...”

“It’s stupid.”

“No, it isn’t. Tell me. I promise I won’t laugh.”

“One day I want to have a kid of my own, sit them on my lap and watch it with them. Tell him about their grandpa.” He cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his pockets, not meeting her gaze. “You want to go down to the White Elephant and have a beer?”

Her own throat clogged at the image, Allie checked her watch. “Let’s play tourist instead and go watch the cattle drive.”

She caught his hand and dragged him to where the tourists were already gathering. As they passed a family with a little girl sitting on a longhorn, he shook his head. “I sure hope they never stop off at my place and think my bulls are that friendly. There’s an accident waiting to happen.”

His running commentary about how cattle seldom went in the same direction as you wanted and how the cowboys leading the half dozen head had it easy had her laughing. Soon several of the real tourists surrounded him to ask questions about ranching and cattle, especially when they discovered he was a real cattleman. The cattle drive long over and still the tourists lingered, wanting to hear his tales. Allie looped her arm in his. “Sorry, folks, we’ve got to get back to the ranch. There are stalls to be cleaned and animals fed.”

“I felt like I was holding a bucket of slop in the middle of the hog pen.” He shot her a grateful glance as the crowd dispersed, but a smile tweaked the corners of his lips telling her he’d loved every minute of it.

Laughing, she hugged him and leaned back her head, looking up at him. No wonder the tourists lapped him up. Hollywood couldn’t have cast a better leading man in a western. With his sun-lightened hair and bright blue eyes, she’d take him over one of the suit-wearing moneymakers in downtown Dallas any day. “So, what do you want to do now?”

“Well,” he replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leading back to the parking lot. “It just happens I made a reservation for us at a very upscale hotel...”

* * *

Ben slipped the hotel porter a tip as Allie explored their terrace suite. The hotel he’d selected turned out to be not far from his grandmother’s condo, and once you got past the uppity folks in the lobby, the suite was impressive. He wandered past the fully equipped kitchen and peered into the dining room with a table that could seat his family and all the ranch hands with room to spare. The living space was decked out like he was standing in the middle of a museum, but the large flat-screen mounted over the fireplace was a decent enough size. Not that he planned to watch television at all tonight.

“Have you seen the size of this bed?” Allie called.

He had, both online and when the porter had carried his gym bag and Allie’s overnight case into the bedroom. “I asked for the biggest one they had.”

“I swear you could fit four on it without touching.”

Thinking of how he planned on touching her a lot that night, he opened the French door that led to the rooftop terrace to make sure no one could wander from one of the other suites and peer in their doors. They wouldn’t he quickly discovered—each suite had its own area, unreachable from the other, each facing a different part of Dallas.

Beyond their private patio and beyond the swath of red Spanish tile roof protecting the lower floors, they had an uninterrupted view of the park following Turtle Creek, all the way to downtown. At night it would probably be pretty with all the lights lit up, but he preferred watching the fireflies dart through the crepe myrtle, with cattle lowing in the distance, or a stallion calling to a mare in another field over the honks and sirens of the city traffic.

Allie squealed. “Ben, I am
never
leaving this bathroom!”

Chuckling, he followed the sound of her voice through the living room and into the bedroom—she was right, four could comfortably fit on that sucker—and into the master bathroom.

She beamed at him and pointed to a massive step-up jetted tub. “We could both fit in it at the same time and not touch each other!”

“What’s the fun in that?” He imagined getting her naked, soap gathering on her breasts as she lowered herself onto his cock. Water would splash onto the floor as she slowly rocked them both to oblivion. Damn, he liked that picture.

Adjusting the fabric over his hard-on, he blinked at the massive shower stall. “You could fit six people in here.”

When the guy at the store had suggested a similar multi-head system he’d scoffed, but now seeing one in real life, he wondered if he could install a set-up like that in his bathroom without running his well dry.

“Ben,” Allie faced him, her expression serious. “This must have cost you a fortune.”

Should he tell her that Logan had gotten him a special rate because the hotel was his uncle’s firm’s client? Even at the reduced rate, a single night in the suite cost more than it would to fill all the Bull’s Hollow vehicles, trucks, tractors, rakers and swathers included. But none of it mattered. “You’re worth it.”

“Aww, that’s such a sweet thing to say.”

“Geez, if any of the guys back at the ranch hear you say I’m sweet, I’ll never hear the end of—”

“Enough talking.” She hooked her arms around his neck and pulled his head down until their lips met.

His thought processes imploded when she grabbed his ass, her nails digging in a way that set his body on fire. He loved the way her breath was hot on his cheek, the way her eyes had gone unfocused and fluttered closed, her lashes resting softly on her cheeks.

She was here and for tonight, this weekend, she was his.

He pulled her top out of her skirt and flattened his hands on her belly, searched upward until he cupped the lace-clad underswell of her breast.

She gasped into the kiss as he stroked his thumb over the tightening bud then squeezed it lightly.

When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her face flushed. And she had the sweetest unfocused eyes.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Wow didn’t begin to cover it.

She hooked a finger into the waistband of his jeans and walked backwards out of the bathroom, across the bedroom until the back of her knees hit the mattress.

He lifted a hand to unbutton his shirt, but she stopped him. “No. Last time I didn’t get a chance to do this. Let me.”

He fought the inclination to raise his hands, to touch her face, to run his fingers through her hair. To kiss her again.

The expressions flitting across her face fascinated him as she undressed him, from the way she bit on her bottom lip as she popped each shirt button through its hole to the soft look in her eyes as she skimmed her palm over his chest. He loved the little sounds she made too, the soft puffs of breath as she snapped open his fly button and pushed his jeans, then his briefs, to his ankles. The even softer moan when she wrapped her fingers around the girth of his cock.

Or maybe it was him moaning.

Then she cradled his sac in her palm, rocking a finger against the sensitive spot right behind his balls.

Yup, it definitely was him moaning. He buried his head in her hair, the scent of her shampoo—he knew he’d get hard every time he smelled coconut after tonight—mingled with the light, spicy fragrance of her perfume.

Some primal force roared inside him, his possessive streak taking charge. He cupped the back of her head, her hair falling over the back of his hand like silk, and tightened his grip. The moment she softened against him, he took control.

Following her lead, he undressed her slowly, drawing out the unhooking of each button of her trim business shirt, laying the fabric aside to reveal her lacy white demi-bra barely containing her luscious breasts, her nipples hard beneath their constraint. He pressed a kiss to the gentle swells above the lace. Her skin was pale but dusted with freckles as if she’d accidentally sprinkled cinnamon on her skin instead of perfume. When he drew back, his cock ached and her pupils were dilated until he could barely tell the color of her irises.

“Still dressed here, cowboy.” The huskiness of her voice filled with need, sent him scrambling to finish stripping her.

It took him a minute to discover the zipper on the side of the skirt, but after a murmured “Lift up,” it too lay in a heap on the floor with the rest of their clothes. His mouth went dry to discover she wasn’t wearing any underwear. No boy briefs, not even a thong. She was completely bare from her bra down to the top of her thigh-high stockings.

Her still-swollen lips parted in a smile. “Surprise.”

“Darlin’, if I’d known you weren’t wearing underwear...” Damn, he actually had to clear his throat at the picture she presented. “I would have skipped lunch and taken you out back to my truck and driven here right then and there.”

She rolled up to kneel on the bed, her knees parted to give him a glimpse of her glistening folds. “I would have ridden you right there in the parking lot.” She ran a finger down his sternum. “Do you have any idea how wet I’ve been all afternoon, imagining your reaction when I undressed?”

Her touch was a signal to his body, an order to take her, the hell with control.

He caught her wrist when she tried to touch his cock. “Not yet.”

He kissed her again, tracing down her jaw and along her neck, pressing her back against the mattress. His cock throbbed at the sight of her glistening cleft, her legs sprawled on either side of him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Luscious, especially the way her nipples hardened like plump, ripe berries. He nuzzled the expanse of white skin at her belly, lapped his way down to her core, her arousal scenting the air. Her taste exploded on his tongue, intoxicating him like a drug.

* * *

Allie let her eyes flutter closed with each lap of his tongue over her clit. Two fingers thrust into her and began a slow, steady pump. The onslaught of sensation sent her body to a crest, and then just as quickly he withdrew. A shudder rolled over her and she tried to raise her hips but he held her in place.

He thrust back in, stretching her even more. His eyes gleamed in triumph at her whimper.

“Please. Stop teasing me. Just fuck me,” she begged.

That was all it was, fucking. Not making love. Because if she let herself fall for him, she’d lose herself all over again.

“Fuck me, Ben. Please.”

Instead he buried his head once more and continued the relentless assault on her senses. Each lap of his tongue was a torment. Then he started murmuring, his voice vibrating deep in her tissues, making her crazy. Sparkles of light flared behind her eyelids as her orgasm surged over her.

Sunlight slanted in through the windows, turning the sprinkling of chest hair to pure gold, the hair on his arms almost white.

“Come here, cowboy.” She reached for him, loving how his biceps and forearms rippled with strength as he ripped open a condom and sheathed himself.

“There’s something sexy about a guy with a farmer’s tan,” she murmured and pressed her lips to the dividing line on his biceps. His muscles went rigid when she traced her tongue lightly up his shoulder and down to one nipple. She reveled in how his breath roughened with each stroke of her tongue, that she had such power to make him shudder.

“Enough playing.” Lowering himself over her, with a single flex of Ben’s hips, he positioned himself at her entrance and drove inside her in one hard thrust. “Holy fuck.”

If sex could be a religious experience, this was it, Allie agreed. She groaned at the delicious burn as her body stretched around him. He pulled back, only to thrust into her again, and repeated the motion in slow, steady strokes.

“Pull your knees up, hang on to them.”

Her nipples ached at the roughness in Ben’s command. The shift in angle let him sink deeper. He slipped a hand between them and pressed on her clit, which had her writhing beneath him. Too good, too fast. She wanted this to last.

“Stop thinking so hard.”

Thinking? Who was thinking? It was all she could do to breathe. His cock massaged deep inside, his finger stimulated her throbbing clit outside. The two pressures stimulating her until she rode to a crest she’d never reached before. This was what sex was supposed to be. Two bodies working together, each reaching for that ultimate pleasure.

Another press of his thumb had her rocking against him, the sounds coming from her throat more like that of an animal in need.

“Let go.”

Her body responded to his murmured order, her orgasm vibrating through every inch of her body. His mouth pressed to hers, capturing her cries as her body clamped around him, pleasure, need, lust drowning her.

Her body still quivering from her climax, Allie stared muzzily at Ben as he continued to fuck her. There was a satisfaction in his expression. Determination. She reached up and touched his face, loving the look in his eyes. Loving how they worked together so well. Loving... Oh shit. Oh, holy shit! No, she couldn’t be falling in love with him again.

What if to him she was merely a pleasant fuck, nothing more? What if he saw fucking her as a way to control the outcome of his claim? Or worse, what if he didn’t believe her about the video, about how they had split?

Sure they had a truce, but at the time she’d held on to her hurt for so long, she didn’t know if she could ever see him without the painful memories besieging her. What if he felt the same way? What if he was deliberately trying to get her to fall in love with him again as payback for the pain he’d felt at their separation?