Bound, Branded, & Brazen
Page 8

He’d taken care of her when she’d gotten sick. He’d held her hair and kept her from falling on her face in a sick, drunken stupor. Then he’d tenderly washed her face, driven her home and carried her up to her room. He’d undressed her and pulled the covers over her. She didn’t deserve such treatment after the way she’d unceremoniously dumped him, divorced him and left him. Why couldn’t he be an as**ole like so many guys she knew? Most men would have left her in the parking lot of the bar and told her she was on her own.
Then again, Mason wasn’t most men and never had been. That was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him in the first place.
Jolene and Brea had gone to Tulsa for the morning, which meant she couldn’t avoid her ex-husband, unless she wanted to spend the day hiding in the house. And it was a warm spring day, and she was no coward.
She slid on a pair of the darkest sunglasses she had, put on her cowboy hat to shield her devastated head from the sun and found Mason out at the cattle pens, roping the calves for branding. She swung over the fence and walked toward him.
“Hey,” she said, squatting down and ignoring the smell of burning calf flesh as one was branded with the Bar M mark. Branding calves was as much a part of her life as breakfast.
“Kind of busy here, Val,” he said, holding a branding iron to a squalling calf.
“I need to talk to you.”
He let the iron up, and the two hands holding the calf’s legs let go. The calf sprung up and sauntered off, and was let out of the pen and into the pasture, while the next calf was brought in, roped—or wrestled—into lying down.
“If you’re going to insist on being in my way, put on some gloves and get to work.”
She sighed, looked around and found a pair of work gloves, then took her place at the front end of a calf, replacing one of the cowboys, who went off to perform another task. She held tight to the calf’s forelegs while Mason applied the brand.
They worked silently for a while, her, Mason and Bobby, one of the hands. Valerie found the rhythm relaxing. It had been a long time since she’d done any ranch work. She’d always found it enjoyable, a distraction that required a lot of physical effort, but didn’t overtax her mind. And after eight years of having her brain cells filled to bursting with medical school, this was a slice of heaven.
“Thank you for last night,” she finally slipped in between brandings.
“Don’t worry about it.”
His tone was gruff. Probably because he was busy, concentrating on what he was doing.
“Well I do worry about it. I didn’t set out to get stinking drunk. Or to have you take care of me.”
His gaze lifted to hers while they waited for Bobby to bring the next calf over. “Someone had to, since you were in no shape to take care of yourself.”
She leaned back on her heels. “You’re not responsible for me.”
His gaze was direct. Unnerving. “I’ll always be responsible for you, darlin’. You may have walked out on our marriage, but I never walked out on you.”
And just like that, the floodgates opened. Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over. She pushed off her feet and stood, jerking the gloves off as she walked away in such a hurry she had no idea where she was going, only that she knew she had to get away from him. Away from here.
She climbed over the fence and kept walking, no destination in mind. She could walk for hours, days, and not reach the end of the Bar M’s land. It didn’t matter. She only needed space and distance, away from the knot of emotion Mason’s words had caused.
But no matter how far she walked, she couldn’t escape what he’d said.
She hadn’t wanted to come home, hadn’t wanted to see Mason. Coward that she was, she’d known what would be waiting for her here. The old feelings, the emotions she’d tried to tell herself were long gone, but weren’t. They hadn’t died, even if she’d tried her best to kill them.
She still loved him. She’d never stopped. She’d just run away from what she felt, too afraid to stick it out, to see if she could handle loving someone so intensely it made her heart hurt.
She’d loved her parents like that, and had lost them. It had left a hole in her heart so deep she’d never recovered from it. And when she’d fallen in love with Mason, the depth of her feelings for him had scared her to death. Because if she ever lost him, she wasn’t sure she’d survive it. So instead, she’d walked away.
Better to have lost than ever to have loved. It hurt a hell of a lot less in the long run. And you win your sanity that way.
Two years later, she didn’t feel like she had won a damn thing. Her victory was hollow.
valerie avoided mason and the family the rest of the day. Fortunately Jolene and Brea stayed busy and didn’t bother her except when Brea showed off her new look, which was spectacular, as Valerie had known it would be.
Valerie stayed in her room, didn’t come down to supper; instead she ate alone upstairs.
Yeah, she was brooding and avoiding, but it worked for her. Better to avoid than to face the truth. She was really good at avoiding truths, had been doing it for years now.
But by night she was bored and restless. She tried a bubble bath and a book, but that didn’t help at all. She was tired of staring at the four walls. Some air might help.
Wearing only the clingy short nightgown she’d tossed on after her bath, she figured she was safe since it was late enough that everyone would be in bed. She snuck downstairs and brewed a pot of steaming-hot coffee, knowing the caffeine wouldn’t keep her awake. Years of medical school had taught her to sleep when it was time to sleep, no matter what was buzzing around in her system.
She grabbed a blanket off the back of one of the sofas, stepped out onto the back porch with coffee in hand and took a seat on one of the cushioned, wicker love seats. She pulled her legs underneath her, wrapped the blanket over her and sipped her coffee, staring out at the stars. Now this she had missed. The night was clear and quiet, the sky clear of clouds and the stars so close it seemed she could reach out and grab one. She couldn’t see the stars like this in Dallas. Too much congestion, too many city lights and buildings, got in the way. Out here there was nothing but her and the endless sky.
Until she heard the crunch of boots on gravel. The good thing about a quiet night in the country was that no one could sneak up on you.
And okay, maybe she’d expected to see him. She knew his patterns, knew he was often the last out at night, roaming the pens, checking the cattle. But if she delved too deeply into why she was out here, she might not like what she discovered.
He stepped up on the porch and took a seat next to her, stretched his long legs out, tipped his hat back and didn’t say a word. She liked that he didn’t hit her with questions about why she’d disappeared earlier today, or where she’d been.
“I’d forgotten how peaceful it is here at night.”
He nodded. “The quiet at the end of the day is one of the things I like best. Gives me time to settle my mind, organize my plans, go back over what I did today and all that needs to be done tomorrow.”
“Being a ranch foreman is a big job. You’re doing great at it.”
She caught the hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Thanks. Jolene does a lot of the work, too. She’s a one-woman tornado.”
Valerie laughed. “Always has been. She was born with excess energy.”
“And she uses every bit of it running herd on all the cowboys and the cattle. She was born to run this ranch.”
“I know. Dad would have been so proud of her.”
“Of you, too. Look at you, a doctor now. He’d have busted his suspenders sticking his chest out with pride.”
Valerie pushed back the melancholy and settled for a smile as she pictured her dad doing just that. “Thank you.”
“So tell me about this new job in Dallas.”
“It’s a four-physician general practice. One of the docs is moving to Atlanta, so that left an open slot. I worked with all three of the others doing my residency rotation, got along with them well, and they offered me a position when Dr. Greene decided to pull out and move.”
“Sounds like a good spot for you.”
She took a swallow of coffee. “It is. I lucked into it.”
“I don’t think luck had anything to do with it.” Mason rose, grabbed her cup. “Want a refill?”
“Sure.”
He went inside, came back out a couple minutes later with two steaming cups and handed one to her.
“Thanks.”
He resumed his seat next to hers and took a couple swallows of coffee, staring out into the darkness. “Seems to me you worked your ass off in school and during residency. I’d say if you got a good offer it’s because you’re a damn fine doctor. It’s that practice you’re going to work for that lucked out.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, was still surprised he was even speaking to her, much less complimenting her. “Thank you. I am very excited about the opportunity. It’s nice to finally be a doctor instead of a student.”
“You’ve always been a doctor, Val. You’ve been taking care of everyone around here for as long as I can remember. You put everyone else’s needs above your own.”
She snorted. “I’m hardly the self-sacrificing sort, Mason. You give me too much credit.” She’d always thought herself selfish, putting what she wanted above what was best for the ranch, for her family. For her marriage.
“Aren’t you? You put off a semester of college when Brea came down with pneumonia. You nursed her back to health, stayed by her side, then fought like hell to catch up when you went back to school.”
“She’s my sister. She needed me.” Valerie had become the de facto parent after theirs had died. Sure there’d been Lila, but Valerie had always felt that because she was the oldest sister, Brea and Jo were her responsibility.
“She had Lila. And Jolene. And just about everyone else here who could have seen to her. And what about when Jolene fell off the horse and broke her arm? You were the one to splint it right so we could take her into town to get it set and cast.”
“That’s basic first aid.”
“You were fourteen at the time.”
She smiled, remembering the curse words streaming out of a then ten-year-old Jolene’s mouth when she’d fallen off that horse. And even then Valerie had been immersed in wanting to help the sick and hurt, had rushed to her sister, quieted her tears, had wrapped and splinted her arm against her side. “I love medicine.”
“Like I said, you always take care of everyone. When are you going to start seeing to your own needs?”
Her gaze snapped to Mason’s. “What are you talking about?”
He laid his coffee cup on the table, took hers and put it there, too, then stood. He pulled her up, held his hands in hers. The blanket tangled between them, the only barrier to keep her na**d legs from brushing the denim of his jeans.
“I’m talking about having someone in your life, Val. Companionship, sex, a man to lie down next to you at night.”
All those things she’d had and walked away from—with him. The chill of the night evaporated and she was suddenly consumed by heat. Mason’s hands, his body so close, his words evoking just what she needed but hadn’t had in far too long. “I don’t . . . I haven’t . . .”
His brows knitted in a tight frown. “How long?”
She tilted her head back and looked him square in the eye. “Since you.”
“Goddammit.”
He let go of her hands and pulled her against him. The blanket fell to the ground, and her br**sts were crushed against his chest. His mouth came down on hers, obliterating thought, objection, anything that was in her mind but the feel of his lips on hers.
On a gasp she accepted the kiss, parted her lips, wound her arms around him. He groaned, one arm sliding down her back to draw her even closer.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hungry, pent-up passion, the kind of kiss a man gave a woman when he’d gone without for too damn long. Valerie tasted the fierce need in the way he moved his mouth over hers, in the commanding way he laid his hands on her, even in the way he breathed.
He rocked against her, his c**k already stone-hard. It shocked her to her toes to realize he wanted her this much. No man who had a steady woman—like that blonde in the bar—or who was getting sex on a regular basis, could be this ravenous.
A part of her was giddy with this knowledge. But her elation fled under the rampant assault of his mouth on her senses.
His hands were everywhere, roaming her body, lifting up her nightgown, baring her skin to the night and to anyone else who might be wandering the ranch property.
“Mason.” She pulled her lips from his. “We’re on the back porch.”
“No one’s around.” He bent, lifted the blanket and draped it over her, shielding her. “I need to touch you.”
“We could go inside.”
His lips lifted in a dangerous smile that made her quiver. “I don’t want to go inside. I want you here. Do you know how pretty you are in the moonlight?”
She’d never hear that from a man in the city. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, mesmerized by his face, the lines snaking out from the corners of his eyes because he never wore sunglasses. She reached up, traced the lines on his face, the ones that spoke of working while the elements beat down on you.
He took her wrists in his hands and tucked them down at her sides, then captured her lips again with a slow slide of his mouth against hers that made her forget she was on the back porch, made her forget everything but being in this place with this man. She tingled all over, was singly aware of every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue against hers.