At the Cowboy's Mercy (8 page)

Luke marveled for a moment that she wasn't squeamish, then went to work on the other kitten, rubbing its little chest, but it was too late. Meanwhile, the mother cat watched him with half-lidded eyes as she pushed out another baby. This time he watched as she twisted to look at her kitten, then ripped the sack with her own teeth. Kennedy placed the living kitten near the mother's belly and let it find its way to a nipple. Its sibling joined it.

"Keep an eye on her," Luke said, handing over the knife. "I'm going to see if I can find a box. This is the only quilt I've got."

***

When he returned with a box that he'd brought out a couple of weeks ago, loaded with groceries and a little gnawed at the corners, Kennedy was kneeling on the bed, straightening a towel beneath the mother cat. He didn't want to know how she'd managed that. Another kitten had joined its siblings and was nursing greedily.

"She opened the last one on her own," Kennedy said, handing him back his knife. "Thank goodness."

He chuckled and tucked the knife in his pocket. "I'm going to let you get her into the box, since you had luck already getting that towel under her."

She scowled, then removed the kittens from their mother's nipples, eliciting all kinds of kitty chaos as the kittens mewled and the mama hissed. Kennedy expertly lifted Mama Kitty with the towel and placed her towel and all into the box. Then she quickly scooped up the kittens and returned them to the comfort of their mother. Luke carried the box toward the door, but Kennedy stopped him.
 

"Just leave it there."

"Kennedy, she's a barn cat. She'll be fine outside."
 

"What if she needs our help?"

"Kennedy." But the look on her face stopped him, and he set the box by the door with a sigh. "If she gets back on my bed..."

She looked toward the bed. "We should probably get that to a laundromat. There is one in town, isn't there?"

His turn to scowl. He hadn't wanted to spend any time away from the property. So much needed to be done. "I suppose. We'll eat lunch there, too."

As she unmade the bed and carefully folded up the quilt, he watched.

"I don't remember you being so soft-hearted."

"I wasn't," she said quietly, and turned to him with the quilt folded in her arms. "Do you want to go now?"

He cursed himself for talking without thinking. He knew just what made her soft-hearted, the same thing that made him hard-hearted to her. If she'd just let him know, he could have been there for her and they could have gone through her father's illness together. Why couldn't she see that?

But it was too late now. The past was the past, and he needed to get over it or send her on her way.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The trip to the laundromat and lunch ended up stretching to a trip to the local big box store, where Luke spent more money than he'd planned, buying wet cat food and new towels, a couple of lamps and a sun tea jar Kennedy liked. All that meant he got back to the farm late in the afternoon, losing the best part of another day of work. He dropped Kennedy off at the house with the clean quilt and bags of cat food for a barn cat, for crying out loud, then headed for his tractor.

When he came in, it was almost dinner time, and shadows stretched through the house. He'd only stayed in the house this past weekend, but the lighting seemed familiar somehow. He turned on the lamp in the kitchen and headed through the quiet house to the bedroom.
 

Kennedy was curled on her side facing the door, the mama cat and four kittens on the bed with her. Mama Kitty lifted her head when Luke entered and blinked drowsily. Luke could hear her purring from the doorway.
 

Kennedy, on the other hand, was asleep. Luke crossed the room, picking up the box on the way. He scooped the cat and her kittens into it, then stretched out on the bed next to Kennedy. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened wide. She started to get up, but he looped his hand over her waist, pinning her to the mattress, then leaned in for a kiss. She protested softly against his lips, then melted into him. He coasted his hand down to squeeze her ass gently through her jeans, and was rewarded when she pressed her hips against his.
 

With a grunt of approval, he rolled her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs, and rubbed his erection against her mound. She gasped into his mouth and arched into him. He slipped one hand between them and pushed up her t-shirt, stroking her breast through the lace of her bra. The sound she made, low in her throat, sent a stab of lust through him. He trailed his fingertips down the sides of her waist, making her squirm, before he unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them down with her underwear. She whipped her shirt over her head and lay back on the pillow, legs parted, watching him watch her.
 

The desire to drive her crazy for him overwhelmed him, and he traced patterns up the insides of her thighs. Her hips bucked the closer he got to her pussy, so he floated his fingers back down. This time the sound she made was frustration, and she parted her legs wider to entice him. He repeated the caress, his focus on the creamy pink flesh beneath the dark brown curls. Again he left her wanting, and watched her grow wetter.
 

"If you don't touch me, I'm going to do it myself," she warned in a husky voice.
 

For a moment, he got so light-headed, he thought he was going to pass out. "Yes," he managed.

Her eyes widened and her hand on the mattress beside her hip trembled, but then she lifted it. Part of him wanted to take her hand and guide it, but another part wanted to see her take charge of her own pleasure. She skimmed her fingers through her curls, then one finger separated to caress her swollen clit, up and down, then around a few times.

His cock pressed insistently against his fly, and he freed it with a few frantic moves, taking it in hand and stroking lightly as Kennedy reached to circle her opening, dipping inside to wet her finger with her cream, then back up to her clit. He glanced up to see she was watching him stroking himself. Her eyes were dark and her lips parted.
 

"Could you come like this?" he asked.

"Mm. Could you?"

"Would you let me come on you?" He could already see her belly wet with his come.

Her hips arched again, almost of their own volition, and she nodded. He tightened his grip, shortened his strokes, as she toyed with her clit. He couldn't help himself--he grabbed her hand and brought it to her mouth, just to taste her, sucking her juices off her fingers before placing her hand back on her pussy. She grew bolder, dipping her fingers inside herself, two at a time, before stroking faster. Her cream coated her pretty pink flesh and--Christ.

He reached into his pocket for a condom. After the time on the tractor, he wasn't going to be without one anymore.
 

"I have to be inside you," he said as he rolled it on and braced over her. "Don't stop touching yourself."

He angled her hips and entered her slowly when he wanted to slam himself home. Her channel contracted around him as she continued to stroke herself, her entire body tensing.
 

"I'm close," she managed. "Luke, fuck me."

"Don't stop," he said, cupping her hips and thrusting into her. Jesus, she was so wet. He fucked her, feeling her fingers pull at her flesh, catch the hair at his groin. Her body grew tighter and tighter, around him, beneath him, her fingers frantic. Then she shoved her hips against his with a cry, her cunt softening, pulsing around him as she met his thrusts. Her hand fell away as her body relaxed, but his need drove him, deeper, harder, the image of her pleasuring herself burning in his mind, fuel for lonely nights ahead.

And then he emptied, going still, his come in long, hot spurts seeming to originate from his goddamned boots, which he still wore.
 

"I like it when you fuck me with your clothes on," she said when he collapsed on the bed beside her, his cock flopping against his shirttail. "It's like you can't wait to get to me."

He grunted. That wasn't far from the truth. And it scared the hell out of him.

***

They ate a quiet dinner on the porch--well, quiet except for the mews of the kittens in the box Kennedy insisted they bring with them. And the roosting birds in the trees.

"This is the best time of year in Texas," he said as he crunched on a chip. "No bugs."

"For like, what, a minute?"

"A day, at least." He winked at her, and she blushed. What was that about? Luke didn't tease, as a rule.

He polished off his sandwich and leaned back on his elbows on the porch. "There are some hooks there where I can hang a porch swing once I'm sure there's no dry-rot or anything."
 

"Sounds perfect. I bet the former owners sat out here and watched the sunset."

He glanced over and saw she was almost done with her sandwich. He jumped up, grabbed the cooler and held his hand out to her. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" she asked, wadding up her trash and looking for a place to stash it before he finally grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
 

"To watch the sunset. Get in the truck." He pushed her toward the passenger side and bounced his keys in his palm as he circled the front toward the driver's side. "Wish I'd thought of this sooner." He put the truck in gear and circled it through the yard to head up the overgrown road, past where they'd stopped at the creek, farther up the hill. Again he circled the truck, facing west and put it in park. He rolled down the windows before shutting off the engine and popping open the cooler. He passed her a bottle of beer and twisted the top off his own, then settled back in his seat, his knee resting against the door.

She popped open the door, inspected the grass before jumping down. She used the tire to heft herself onto the hood of the truck, stretching her legs in front of her. He swung his door open and followed, plopping beside her on the slightly warm hood. She didn't look his way, merely smiled as she lifted the bottle to her lips.
 

Clouds gathered on the horizon, reflecting the oranges, pinks and purples from the sun's rays. The globe itself was already sinking beneath the hills, the bottom third already out of sight. Overhead, ducks flew in formation toward another water source. Around them, the air filled with bird calls.

And she linked her fingers through his.

"He didn't want me to call you," she said when the sun was nothing more than a glimmer of light on the other side of the hills. "He didn't want you to see him like that."

Luke's stomach clenched. "Why did he care how I saw him? God knew he saw me in bad shape more than once."

"He was weak, he was not in control of his body. The one thing he was in control of was who he saw and didn't see. For the last few months, the only people he saw were his doctor, his home health nurse, and me."

"That pisses me off, Kennedy."

She stiffened. "It wasn't my doing. He was my father and I was respecting his wishes. I had to. It was the only thing I could do to help him at that point."

"Did you try to talk to him about it? Make him see how important it would be for Liam and I to help, to take part?"

"He was so proud--"

"And yet when we were too proud he would call us on it."

She blew out a breath and sat forward, her legs folded, the bottle between them. "He was dying. I didn't want to fight with him when he was dying."

"Then you should have called me and let me fight with him."

"Peace was hard for him to come by. He had a lot of pain, and he didn't want to take anything at first. He was the tough guy."

Her voice had grown softer, distant. She was seeing it all again, and he wanted to tell her to stop, but she was the one who had started.
 

"When he finally gave in and agreed to the morphine, it was almost like it was too late, like he was having to play catch-up and just never could get ahead of the pain. It was too hard."

He wanted to say more, wanted to tell her he might have made it easier for her by being there. Instead, he hooked his hand over her shoulder and drew her against him. She was tense for a moment, then relaxed against him, her hand curling on his chest. He felt the shudder of a sob, then another, and another. As he held her against him on the cooling hood of the truck, he wondered who had been there for her as she watched her father die, as she put him in the ground.

***

He drove back downhill before it got full dark, and his headlights caught a group of does in the field on the other side of the fence from the road. He braked and the deer and humans stared at each other for awhile before another sound spooked the animals and sent them bolting into the trees.

They drove back in silence. When they entered the house, they were greeted by a questioning meow. He thought Kennedy would stop and play with the kittens, or insist on feeding the mama a can of food. Instead, she linked her fingers with his and led him to the bedroom, astonishingly without running into any walls in the dark. He was the one to find the free-standing light beside the bed. He released her hand to turn it on. When the low-watt bulb sent out a weak circle of light, she was facing him, her eyes a little swollen. But she edged toward the bed, lifting her shirt over her head.

"Kennedy."

"I want you to make love to me. Right now. I want to feel you with me."

He wanted it too, and hell, he couldn't resist her, even when she didn't offer an invitation like that. He moved forward and curved his hands around her waist, denying himself what he really wanted, finding her skin so soft. Her hair tumbled down her back and the ends brushed the backs of his hands. Who knew that could be so sexy? She angled her head to look up at him, inviting his kiss. He lowered his mouth until only his breath was between them.
 

"I want to do something."

"I hope you want to do lots of things."

"I want to tie you to the bed."

She jerked her head back, just a bit, her mouth forming an "o." But her eyes darkened with something like excitement. At least, he hoped it was.