When Snow Falls (9 page)

“Would you like to come in?”

“Is that why you called?”

Not in her conscious mind. She could never admit it, not even to herself. But she knew she hadn’t phoned him to ask if he’d look after her sister as she’d pretended. She’d been hoping he could fill the gap her friends had left. He seemed like a safe substitute. He wasn’t part of her circle, wasn’t close to anyone who was, and he wasn’t likely to judge her. Not only that, but she was pretty sure he could keep a secret. He didn’t do a whole lot of talking—about anything. It was other people who talked about
him.

She shoved back her hair, combing her fingers through it so she wouldn’t look like a hag after tossing and turning in bed. Then she breathed deep and swung open the door.

He didn’t chuckle at her transparency or taunt her for giving in, as she thought he might. In fact, he said nothing as he walked past her. It was almost as if he was a bit nervous himself.

His gaze cut to the tree, then skimmed over the rest of their threadbare furnishings. But, unlike with Joe, Cheyenne felt no need to apologize for what she lacked. Dylan wouldn’t look down on her for her background or her impoverished circumstances. There was something liberating about feeling like an equal, just as there’d been something liberating about standing at the park, knowing that if she acted badly, he wouldn’t necessarily regard her as a bad person.

For a second, she was afraid he’d wait for her to come up with some small talk and couldn’t think of anything. As much as she must’ve wanted this—or why would she have called him?—she hadn’t rehearsed what would come next.

She owed him an explanation for her unexpected behavior, didn’t she?

Probably. But she was grateful he didn’t demand one. He reached behind him and turned off the light, plunging the room into semidarkness, with only the porch light filtering in from outside. Then he extended his hand to her.

Cheyenne thought she must be dreaming. Except she couldn’t be. If she was, she’d be with Joe and not Dylan Amos.

“Chey?” The vulnerability in his voice told her he was afraid she might reject him. Apparently, he wasn’t quite as cocky as he’d seemed at the park.

Butterflies rioted in her stomach as she stared at his outstretched hand. She dared not touch him, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to leave, either. She stood locked in indecision—until he gave her more encouragement.

“It’s okay. I won’t take it too far.”

“How far is too far?” She heard the breathless quality in her own voice but, at the moment, couldn’t seem to speak normally. Her pulse was racing so fast it was making her dizzy.

“Any further than you want to go,” he replied. “You call the shots.”

She wasn’t convinced she could rely on that promise. But if he was dangerous to women, she would’ve heard about it by now. Her sister went over to his place all the time. When he got in trouble with the law, it was for speeding, fighting, possession of unregistered firearms, setting off illegal fireworks—misdemeanors that suggested he had problems with authority, not women. He’d never been picked up for anything sexual in nature.

“I’d hate to get you excited and then…you know, bail out.” She swallowed hard. “But I don’t know what I want. I’m not even sure why I called you. It took me over an hour to get up the nerve.”

“I wondered. But I’m not asking for any kind of commitment.” He crooked his fingers, coaxing her. “Why don’t we start with a simple kiss?”

A kiss sounded innocuous enough. She wanted to kiss him, didn’t she?

Slipping her hand in his, she allowed him to tug her forward. But when his arms went around her, bringing her up against his body, she nearly balked. She didn’t know this man. The solid muscular frame, the hair that fell to his shoulders, the eyes that watched her so closely—it was all foreign to her.

But
any
man would feel foreign to her. She hadn’t been on a date since Joe’s divorce. The last guy she’d kissed had been twenty-five years her senior and had asked permission.

Dylan seemed cautious, as if he was trying hard not to spook her, but he wasn’t tentative. He knew what he wanted and was working on the best way to get it.

“You smell like Christmas trees and cigarette smoke,” she said as her cheek brushed his.

He rubbed his lips against her ear as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I should quit.”

For his health, he should. But he’d misinterpreted her comment. “I don’t mind the smell,” she admitted. “My mother smoked until recently. Now Presley does. I’m used to it.”

“Your mother is…where?”

Although he was taller by at least six inches, she fit nicely against him. “In her room. Asleep.”

Tilting her head back with both hands, he looked down at her as though he wished he could read her mind, understand her intent. She recalled her earlier opinion—that he had cruel eyes—but they didn’t seem cruel tonight. A soft, liquid brown, they held a world of sensual promise, which he began to fulfill when he brought his lips to hers.

Cheyenne didn’t resist. The contact felt surprisingly natural, considering how little they knew each other. She liked the feel of his mouth, firm yet soft, moving on hers, so much that she leaned closer and parted her lips.

He groaned as their tongues met, sending a wave of awareness through her that weakened her knees. When she answered with a similar sound, his arms tightened until she could feel his erection against her abdomen.

They’d barely touched and yet they were already getting swept away. It felt as if they’d been waiting for this moment their whole lives.

She slipped her hands into his hair, let the silky strands slide through her fingers. She couldn’t taste any alcohol—just spearmint, as if he’d eaten a breath mint on his way over.

“That’s it,” he murmured as she kissed him harder. “I can give you what you want.”

As he trailed kisses down her throat, his hands found their way inside her robe. She thought he’d immediately go for her breasts. They tingled with the desire to be touched. But he slid his palms up her back instead, perhaps to make sure that she was comfortable with such intimacy.

“I’ve wanted to feel you against me for years,” he said.

She didn’t know how that could be true. She’d pretty much ignored his existence. But whatever they’d felt before didn’t matter. Right now she was drowning in desire, so much so she feared her legs wouldn’t have the strength to support her if he let go.

When his hands finally found her breasts, Cheyenne gasped and covered them with her own. A gratified smile told her he took that for the encouragement it was. Kissing her again, he bent her slightly back, then dropped his head to suckle her through the silky fabric of her nightgown.

“Oh…that feels amazing,” she whispered. How could he bring her to a state of arousal so quickly, so easily? She’d felt nothing but mild affection for Principal Kovinski when they made out after their last date. If not for her fantasies about Joe she would’ve feared she was frigid. Never had she been tempted beyond her ability to resist.

But the fire burning through her veins left no doubt that her body was as healthy and normal as anyone else’s. Maybe she was a little late in embracing her sexuality, but the need building inside her was already turning to an expectant throb between her legs.

She wanted to feel Dylan inside her.

It was a shocking revelation, so shocking that she pulled back.

He seemed reluctant to let her go. He stared at her as if he couldn’t make himself turn away, but he did—and without complaint. When she realized he was leaving, that he thought she’d stomped on the brakes, she caught him by the shoulder.

“No!” she said, and started yanking off his jacket.

She sensed his surprise that he’d misread her intent. Or maybe he was surprised by her sudden aggressiveness. It wasn’t like her to be so forward. But she couldn’t seem to rein herself in.

Fortunately, he didn’t hesitate. He shed his coat. Then he pulled his thermal over his head.

She’d known he had tattoos on his arms. She’d seen them before. There were more on his chest. She couldn’t tell what they were in the dark, couldn’t see clearly enough. But she didn’t really care. Being able to feel him was all that mattered.

As he tossed away his shirt, she explored the sinewy contours of his chest and arms with her hands and mouth. It was insane, inexplicable, but she wanted to do things to him she’d never imagined before, and he didn’t seem to mind. She could hear the change in his breathing, knew he was feeling the same crush of excitement.

Then she glanced up and saw the stubborn set to his jaw and realized he was trying to retain control of the situation. “What?” she said.

“This is hard to believe,” he explained, but he closed his eyes and dropped his head against the wall when she found his nipple.

“Why?” she murmured against the wet spot she’d made. She was too absorbed to manage a conversation. She didn’t want to
think,
anyway. She just wanted to get rid of the rest of his clothes, to feel more of his supple skin.

“You never let
anyone
touch you.”

“So?”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know.”

Apparently, that wasn’t an acceptable answer. He grasped her shoulders to stop her long enough to pay attention to what he was saying. “Tell me this isn’t a game, that you’re not playing me. Tell me you’re not going to dangle yourself in front of me and then, at the very last second, shut me down.”

Before, he’d acted as if he’d have no problem accepting a refusal at
any
point, if that was what she chose. But his ambivalence was long gone. The spark created by that first kiss had changed everything.

Struggling with the power of her emotions, she bit her lip as she considered his words. “Have you slept with my sister?” It was the one thing that made her uncomfortable, the one thing that threatened to ruin her enjoyment. She couldn’t let what she’d started go to its natural conclusion until she knew.

“I told you I haven’t.” His voice was harsh with need, adamant. “
Ask
her.”

Cheyenne didn’t want to admit that she’d tried. It didn’t matter. He was convincing.

“It’s actually been a while since I’ve been with
anyone,
” he added.

“Why?” The way she heard it, he had a new girl every weekend.

“Hit-and-runs get old after a while.”

“You seem interested enough now.”

“This is different.”

She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he couldn’t resist relieving her of her innocence. “But you’ve got a condom, right?”

“I’ve got a few.”

“Then tell me how much you want me,” she said. “Tell me I’m the one who makes you hard.”

He didn’t sound as if he had to pretend. “It’s true. I’ve wanted you for years. Virgin or no. Makes no difference to me.”

Was she really going through with this? She’d spoken to him for almost the first time earlier today. Now he stood shirtless in her living room, his hair mussed from her hands, his eyes feral and hungry. And instead of being frightened, repulsed, too uninterested or too shy to continue, all of which she’d experienced with other men, she found him absolutely irresistible.

Maybe she was no different from her mother and sister. She craved physical intimacy with a man she had no emotional commitment to. But she’d been holding back the demands of her body for so long, she didn’t seem capable of doing it any longer. Already she was pressing into him, couldn’t seem to stop grinding her hips against his erection. It helped that she didn’t have to be anyone other than who she was. With this man, she could be completely naked, literally and figuratively, and yet feel safe. He was even aware of her feelings for Joe.

But he still seemed unconvinced that he could trust her, as if he just knew it couldn’t be this easy. “Are you sure you want
me?
” he asked. “You won’t change your mind? Or regret it later?”

She couldn’t promise she wouldn’t regret her actions. She had no idea how she’d feel in the morning. But she wasn’t going to change her mind. It made no sense that Dylan would be her first—but why not? Eve didn’t have dibs on him. Neither did Presley. As far as Cheyenne knew, no one did.

“Sometimes you have to take a chance,” she said, and led him to her bedroom.

11

I
t didn’t hurt. Cheyenne had been warned that penetration would be painful the first time. But maybe that was for younger women. Or she’d simply been too drunk on hormones to feel the pain. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the pleasure she’d been able to experience, the fact that she could enjoy sex like other women.

“That was incredible,” she said as they slumped, exhausted, against the pillows.

“It took a while, but we got there.”

She mustered a tired smile. “Because you wouldn’t give up.”

“I was the only one who knew what was waiting for you.”

“I don’t think that’s supposed to happen during a girl’s first time.”

“I couldn’t see any reason for you to miss out. It just takes figuring out what you like and doing it long enough.”

She used her arm to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. “You certainly figured it out.”

“Not immediately. But…like I said, we managed it in the end.” His teeth flashed when he raised his head to grin at her. “And it was worth the effort, right?”

“It was definitely worth the effort,” she agreed with a laugh.

“I’m glad you cooperated. You’re far more responsive than I expected. I thought you might be too self-conscious to climax.” He rolled over to face her but didn’t touch her. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

With other guys, she’d been too self-conscious to even get
naked.
But not with him. She wasn’t sure what made the difference. “It was time to get the deed done.”

“Good thing you got
that
over with.”

She laughed at his sarcasm.

“So…what?” he asked. “Did I just hit you up at a weak moment or…”

He wondered why she’d chosen him after waiting so long, but she couldn’t explain. She hadn’t figured out the reason herself. “Who knows?” She pulled up the sheet and rolled onto her side, to face him as he was facing her. “Maybe I was tired of being a freak.”

He lifted a sweaty tendril of hair off her cheek.

“What?” she said when she noticed the way he was looking at her.

“Being a virgin doesn’t make you a freak.”

“At thirty-one?”

“Okay, maybe a little bit of a freak,” he teased.

She rose up on her elbow. “How many women have
you
slept with?” she asked but then fell back and raised her hand before he could speak. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”

When he didn’t comment, she opened one eye so she could see his expression.

His mood seemed to have sobered. “I’m clean if that’s what you’re worried about.”

They’d used the condoms he’d brought, anyway. Fortunately, he’d been prepared, as if he’d guessed the reason behind her call—before she even knew. “Good information to have.”

Her mother’s voice yanked her out of the euphoria that had descended. “Chey? Cheyenne? Where are you?”

A wave of panic that maybe Anita had overheard them, that they’d given themselves away, brought her crashing back to earth.

Dylan, sensing her reaction, seemed concerned. “Everything okay?”

She forced a smile. “Fine. But I—I have to go take care of my mother. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“It’s awkward timing.”

“Trust me, it could’ve been worse.”

She laughed at his meaning. “True.”

“Anyway, I admire you for the sacrifices you make for her. I know your sister hasn’t helped as much as she should.”

Dylan Amos
understood how heavy a load she’d been carrying—and sympathized? That said he was more intuitive and understanding than she’d expected. She was beginning to think she’d been wrong about him in a lot of ways. That frightened her, but she couldn’t say why.

Suddenly, she wanted him to leave. “Thanks for…for everything,” she said as she got up. “I hope that’s the right thing to say in a situation like this. I haven’t had any practice at pillow talk.”

“There’s no manual.”

“Good point. So then I’ll say…I appreciate your time…and your…skill with women.”

That was a send-off if ever there was one. She wasn’t starting a relationship—she was in love with Joe. But he didn’t move. He watched her from the bed, as naked and still as a Greek statue. “With
women?
” he repeated dryly.

“Yes. You know how to make sex as…exciting as everyone says it should be. That was…great. Really great. I’ll give you an endorsement if you ever need one.”

His tone went flat. “I’d be flattered if you weren’t basically telling me to get lost now that we’re done.”

This wasn’t ending as smoothly as she’d hoped, but she’d never had sex with anyone and wasn’t sure how to wrap up even an isolated encounter. She’d made that clear, hadn’t she? “Like you said, there’s no manual. I’m not trying to offend you. I’m just…” She was a little panicked by what she’d done, but she didn’t think it would be very polite to say that, so she went for something she thought he’d be able to understand. “I’m afraid my sister will come home and see your bike out front.”

“Would that be so terrible?” he asked. “Presley certainly isn’t someone who could find fault.”

She pulled on her robe. “Maybe not, but we live in a small town.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then you know the gossip a lapse like this would cause if she happened to mention it to anyone else.”

“That’s what it was? A lapse?”

“Other people would see it that way,” she said to avoid answering more directly.

“Who cares? What can they do?
Talk?
”

“Yes. I realize it wouldn’t hurt your reputation, but it could do permanent damage to mine.” And her reputation was all she had, the only way she could differentiate herself from her mother and sister.

“So…being with me would cheapen you.”

She blinked at him. “
Sleeping
with you, yes. Don’t say it like I’m acting superior. That isn’t the case. I’ve grown up on the same side of the tracks as you have.”

He got out of bed and began jerking on his clothes. “Yeah, but I’m not ashamed of it.”

“Maybe you didn’t have a mother who hooked for a living.”

“You’re right.” His eyes grew flinty; she could see the shine to them, even in the darkness. “I didn’t have a mother at all, at least not for long.”

Cheyenne should never have brought this up. His life had been as difficult as hers. When his mother took an overdose of sleeping pills and died only five or six years after Mack was born, his father started drinking and, according to all the rumors, he was one mean drunk. Cheyenne was a sophomore, Dylan a senior, when J.T. knifed a man in a bar and went to prison. It was Dylan who’d dropped out of school to take over the family’s auto body shop, Dylan who had cared, all these years, for his four younger brothers. His father was still incarcerated.

“I’m sorry.” She took a shaky breath. She was out of her element, or she wouldn’t have been so insensitive.

His lips, which had kissed her so tenderly just minutes before, twisted into a snarl. “I’m not looking for your pity.”

“Then what do you want from me?” she asked softly. “I thought I already gave it to you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want anything more. Why would I? You’re committed to someone else. Someone who doesn’t give a shit about you, by the way.”

She winced at the harshness of his words but he spoke the truth. “I’ve been in love with Joe since I was fourteen, Dylan. Whether or not he returns my interest doesn’t seem to make any difference, although I wish it did.”

“Fourteen, huh?” He zipped his jeans but didn’t button them before putting on his boots. “That’s pretty tough to compete with. I don’t know what the hell
I
was thinking.”

When he chuckled without mirth, she got the impression he was kicking himself for coming over, and she wasn’t sure how to react to that. She’d never imagined that
he
might regret being with
her.
Judging by some of the wild stories she’d heard, women were merely toys to the Amos men, interchangeable.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. His shirt was in the living room, where they’d left it earlier. She wanted to get it for him. He looked far too good without it, even now that she was thinking clearly. But she held back. “I never dreamed you’d take this seriously, not when you have so many other women to…to sleep with.”

He pushed his hair out of his face. “Yeah, well, I guess I was lying when I said it’d been a long time. Or…maybe I’m not as shallow as you choose to believe.”

Cheyenne felt helpless in the face of his disappointment. She could see how her words and actions came across. She’d taken too much for granted. She’d used him without a thought about how that might make him feel because she’d assumed he was using her, too. “I’m not accusing you of being
shallow.
I thought you’d be satisfied with getting…you know…lucky, that’s all. From what I’ve heard—”

“Just because you hear it doesn’t make it true,” he broke in. “The people who spend so much time talking about me don’t even know me. And I won’t live my life trying to please them. Whiskey Creek’s fine, upstanding citizens would never accept me even if I did.”

“You’re the one who made the offer in the park!” she snapped, finally rallying. “It wasn’t as if
I
propositioned
you.
”

“Thanks for the reminder. It’s always good to know I can blame myself when I do something stupid.”

She felt like he’d just slapped her. “Why do you have to blame anyone? We had fun, didn’t we? Can’t we leave it at that? I mean, we barely know each other—”

“We’ve known each other for seventeen
years,
Cheyenne.”

“We’ve never hung out together! So this can’t really matter that much!”

Suddenly, he was the implacable, indifferent man she’d seen around town wearing a sardonic half grin as his gaze trailed after her. “It doesn’t. It doesn’t matter at all. Call up Joe tomorrow and see if he can satisfy you any better. Maybe you’ll decide this actually sucked.”

“I already said it was good. I—”

“Who’s there?” Her mother, voice ragged with weakness and pain, interrupted. “Presley? Cheyenne? Where are you? I’ve yanked out…my damn catheter.”

Dylan waved her out of the room. “Go take care of her.”

Cheyenne felt she had no choice but to do exactly that. She couldn’t leave Anita lying in a bed soaked with urine. “Wait here…so we can talk, okay? Let’s not end the night like this.”

“If you wanted to end it better, maybe you should’ve held out for someone who was on your list of possibilities.”

She swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Don’t go away mad.” This wasn’t the memory she wanted to carry with her from her first time. Everything had gone so well, until now. Somehow, she’d miscalculated, had no idea
she’d
been on
his
list of possibilities.

“Just…hold on, okay?” She could convince him to be her friend, if only he’d give her the opportunity, she thought as she hurried to fix Anita’s problem. But she heard his motorcycle roar to life while she was still in her mother’s room and knew, as the sound dimmed, that he hadn’t bothered to wait.

* * *

“You’re quiet today.” Riley bent to get a better look at her face. “You okay?”

Cheyenne glanced up from the computer in her small office off the inn’s kitchen. “I’m fine, why?”

She’d come to research some recipes and create a whole new menu for when they opened in January. The printer would take a week, maybe longer over the holidays, so she wanted to get the process started. But in the four hours she’d been at the B and B, she’d accomplished nothing. While Riley and his son made a racket enlarging the bathroom on the second floor, she’d been replaying every second of her time with Dylan.

Even now, hours after the big event, she couldn’t help blushing at the memory of the words he’d whispered, telling her how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how much he wanted her. Then there was the memory of his strong hands on her thighs as he guided her movements the second time they’d made love. That was when she’d really relaxed and begun to enjoy herself.

She wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or relieved that she’d finally dispensed with her virginity, mortified or grateful that she’d chosen Dylan to be the one. Allowing him to remove her clothes, and removing his, was completely out of character for her. She felt she should regret it. And yet…regret played no part in her reactions. At least not yet.

Why? He wasn’t the man of her dreams, but once she’d led him into her bedroom, she never considered backing out. She couldn’t have, even if she’d tried. She’d been too caught up in what he was doing to her—and what she wanted to do to him.

Was it normal to desire a stranger like that? Someone she wouldn’t ordinarily date?

She’d never found Dylan particularly handsome. She went for the uncomplicated type, the all-American athlete, like Joe. But she had to admit that Dylan was…raw and edgy and quite magnetic.

Riley clicked his tongue. “There you go again.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re staring off into space.”

She forced a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be okay. I promised Eve I’d look after you.”

Chey folded her arms. It was a protective gesture designed to create a buffer between her and someone who knew her well enough to be able to tell when she was lying. “And you’re doing your job.”

He wiped the demolition dust from his arms as he responded. “No, something’s wrong. I can tell. We’ve been friends almost since you moved to town, remember?”

She glanced at his son, Jacob, who’d come up behind him and seemed to be awaiting her answer as if he was one of her close friends, too. Even if she’d been tempted to tell Riley about Dylan, to see if he thought she’d screwed up as badly as
she
told herself she had, she couldn’t say in front of a young teen that she’d had sex with Dylan Amos. Since Riley had asked her what was wrong in his son’s presence, he obviously had no clue how private the real problem was. But then, he knew she wasn’t seeing anyone, so he had no reason to suspect it might deal with her sex life.