Lace & Lassos (5 page)

He eased her legs down so that they weren’t over his shoulders anymore and he was moving within her in deep, rhythmic thrusts.

Her eyes locked with his and she didn’t want to look away from him, ever and he seemed to draw her into him as if they were one. She hadn’t felt this way since she was with him so many years ago.

The beauty of the moment, the beauty of being with him again, brought tears to her eyes. Tears she couldn’t stop.

Maybe he was feeling it, too because the way he looked at her showed her so much caring, so much more.

“Come with me,” he said softly. “Come with me, Kait.”

With those words she felt her orgasm move forward, felt herself right on the edge of going where she hadn’t gone for so many years.

She caught her breath. “Now,” she said, the word almost strangling in her throat. “Come now.”

He gave a loud groan at the same time she cried out and hit her climax. Wonderful, incredible sensations went through her as she felt him shudder with the power of his orgasm. She felt the throb of his cock inside of her.

As she came down from the lofty moment, he pulled her into her arms and she relaxed with a sigh, feeling more content than she’d felt in years.

Chapter 5

Kaitlyn snuggled under the covers, feeling warm and lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She breathed deep, inhaling the smell of clean sheets along with a masculine scent.

A warning bell started dinging in her head and her heart started pounding faster, some of the lightness fading. She wasn’t home in her own bed.

She was in Wayne’s.

Her eyes opened wide and saw rumpled covers and an empty pillow beside her. She sat up in bed, her breathing a little harsher. What had she done? She’d just spent the night with Wayne Cameron. After all of her promises to herself that she would stay away, she’d gone straight to bed with him. She could still smell sex and Wayne’s scent seemed to fill her.

Coolness brushed her breasts, tightening her nipples, and she brought up the sheet to cover herself. She pushed her fingers through her hair and glanced at the window. It was overcast and she couldn’t tell what time it was. When she glanced at a clock on the nightstand she saw that it was still early and he was probably out taking care of morning chores.

She had to get out of here. Had to think. She scrambled out of bed and almost tripped over the covers before untangling herself. Her clothes were now folded neatly and resting on a trunk at the foot of the bed. She tugged them on then went to the vanity mirror and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb down the strands that were a complete mess.

When she couldn’t tame her hair, she left the bedroom and went into Wayne’s office. She searched his desk for a rubber band then pulled her hair back into a ponytail when she found one. She found a pen and a notepad and scribbled a note, then hurried to put it on his pillow.

She jogged down the stairs feeling a sense of urgency. She wanted to go home. Had to go home.

At the foot of the stairs she paused and listened but it was quiet in the house. All the better. She didn’t want to see Wayne yet. She needed some time alone, needed some time to think. When she reached the front door she took her jacket off of the coat rack and slipped her arms into the sleeves.

The front door was soundless as it opened but the screen door creaked. She closed both quietly behind her before heading across the porch and down the stairs. He was nowhere to be seen and she was grateful for that, but then his voice carried to her from the barn, a weathered structure to her left that hadn’t seen the same restoration as the house had. Apparently he was talking to someone, probably one of his ranch hands.

Clouds were heavy with the threat of rain, but she didn’t care if it poured. As a matter of fact, it would match her mood, the way she was now, perfectly. She headed toward the gate, crossed the cattle guard, and started walking the two and a half miles home. The walk would help to clear her head.

Thoughts spilled through her mind. Memories of last night and seeing the Camerons and how easily they had pulled her into their fold again.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t allow herself to bring anyone down to the dark place she spent most days.

The morning was chilly and as she looked up at the gray clouds she was glad for her jacket. She shoved her hands in her pockets as she breathed in the cool air, letting it fill her lungs before releasing the breath.

Darkness threatened to take over her soul like it did every day. Life hadn’t been easy since she left Wayne and she’d fallen into a pit so deep that she didn’t think she’d ever really be able to dig herself out of it. She’d tried going to a therapist after her divorce, but she had felt like she’d just tumbled into a kind of despair that made her feel like nothing would ever be okay again. Maybe she should have continued seeing him, but some days she couldn’t even drag herself out of bed.

Depression had been something she’d struggled with since her first year of marriage, four years ago, when her ex had started to verbally abuse her. He’d brought her down, deeper and deeper, until her self-confidence and self-esteem had all but vanished.

Then there was the miscarriage… It had served to draw her deeper within herself and had sent her further into a tailspin.

She’d wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and sleep. Then there were the mood swings that were enough to drive anyone crazy. Last night at the reception she’d felt so high. Now she just wanted to hide.

The men in her life had always disappointed her. Her father and his disconnect had made her feel rejected. The abuse her ex-husband had dealt out had made her feel worthless. Even Wayne had chosen alcohol over her all those years ago.

How could she have gone from the girl who had been so upbeat and positive to a woman who felt like she was circling the drain? She’d thought last night had been wonderful, but maybe it had hurt more than it had helped.

The therapist had told her that she was beating herself up too much. She constantly told herself how stupid she was for the mistakes she’d made in her life and every dumb thing she continued to do. It was a cycle that she hadn’t been able to break.

How was she going to get out of this? What about Wayne? Why not him?

No… I can’t bring him down with my negative life.

The therapist had helped her work on her self-image but had wanted Kaitlyn to try medication that would help stabilize her moods. She realized that a lot of people needed that extra help, but for herself she didn’t want to take anything.

Two and a half miles wasn’t that far at a brisk walk and it wasn’t long before she closed in on her own property. When she looked over the grassy field she frowned. Behind an old work truck was a huge horse trailer that was backed up to the front of the house, parked next to her SUV. A couple of men walked into her home.

Something big and hard caught in her throat. She recognized the truck. It belonged to her cousin, Harold Barrett. Was he taking things from her home and loading them into the trailer?

She started jogging toward her home, making her way over the cattle guard, and down the long driveway. By the time she reached the house she was breathing hard.

Harold walked out of the house and down her front porch, carrying her mother’s antique jewelry box. He was followed by a younger man who was holding her grandmother’s stained glass lamp.

“Harold, what are you doing?” She ran toward them and blocked their paths to the horse trailer, her heart beating fast. The younger man went around and she heard him step into the trailer behind her.

“Hi, Kaitlyn,” Harold said. “I’m taking Grandmother’s things that belong to us who are blood related. I’m going to have to ask you to take all the remaining things that I don’t remove and get them out of the house in the next few days,” her older cousin continued calmly.

Kaitlyn’s jaw dropped and she stared at him with incredulity. “What are you talking about? None of this is yours. This is my house now.”

The wind caused his prematurely gray hair to rise straight up. “I’ve got the deed at home that proves the house is my dad’s now.”

“What?” Kaitlyn stared at him in confusion.

“The deed shows that our dads owned this house, this entire ranch together,” he said. “When Grandpa died, my dad and your dad got the house. It was in both their names and the survivor of the two was to get the house. When Uncle George died, the house reverted to my dad. When my dad dies, which will be soon, it all comes to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Kaitlyn shook her head. “Daddy and Uncle John divided up things after Grandpa and Grandma passed on. Daddy got the house and a portion of the land. Your dad got all the other land and more of the cash. That’s when your dad built the house he lives in now. It was all agreed to.”

“That’s not right,” Harold said. “You can look it up the public record. It says George H. Barrett and John J. Barrett, with right of survivorship.” Harold went on, “Well my dad is the survivor.”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “Daddy had a will and he left the ranch to me.”

“Kaitlyn, honey,” Harold said, “he can’t give you what’s not his. And it’s not his.”

“No.” Kaitlyn shook her head. “That’s not right.”

“I’ll bring back the deed.” He waved his hand toward the trailer. “As far as Grandma’s things, I know you have to agree like the family does that none of it belongs to you. You’re not real family.”

She felt like she’d bee slapped. “Jenny and George Barrett were my parents.” Tears stung at the backs of her eyes from the callousness of his words. She’d always liked Harold and her other family members, and it was like a knife twisting in her heart to hear him say what he had. “Everything in that house belongs to me,” she said as the other man went back into her house. “And so does the house.”

“You’re not real family and you know that.” He frowned “You don’t have a drop of Barrett blood in you.”

“It doesn’t matter that I was adopted.” Kaitlyn’s face flushed with heat and she couldn’t help the anger rising up inside her, lacing every word she spoke. “They were my parents in every other sense of the word. Nothing changes the fact that I’m the heir to my parents’ property.”

“I’m taking all the things that were our grandma and grandpa’s.” Harold narrowed his gaze. “Which is a lot of the antiques and artwork and jewelry that are left in this house. You have no right to any of it.” His tone grew as heated as hers had and he looked like he was getting ready to throw the antique jewelry box he was still holding.

She snatched it from him, held it close to her chest, then glanced into the horse trailer and saw the truck nearly filled with her family’s heirlooms, even the old grandfather clock. Things were boxed up, too. They must have started packing last night.

Fury rose inside her, chasing away the pain of his words. “You put back every single thing you’ve taken out of my house.”

Her skin went cold as Harold took a step toward her. “It’s not your house and they’re not your things.” He grabbed the jewelry box to jerk it out of her hands and pushed her out of the way at the same time.

The jewelry box slipped from her grasp. He’d shoved her so hard that she stumbled back, lost her balance, and landed hard on the ground. Shock that he’d knocked her down made her scalp prickle. She could barely hold back tears as she scrambled to her feet. Tears of frustration, anger, and pain at what felt like a betrayal from the cousin she’d been raised with. Had they all agreed like he’d said that she wasn’t real family?

Harold put the jewelry box into the horse trailer then headed back into her house.

“I’m calling the sheriff.” Her voice trembled as she yelled after him. She reached into her jacket pocket for her cell phone and pulled it out. “You can’t just come in and start taking things.”

He turned back around walked up to her. “You go right ahead and I’ll have him escort you from the property today.”

The sound of a powerful truck engine caught both hers and Harold’s attention and they both looked at the dirt road leading up to her house. Relief poured through her when she realized it was Wayne’s truck. She wasn’t alone. Harold couldn’t hurt her.

Harold watched the truck come toward them. The other man came out of the house with an old rocking chair that had been in the family for generations.

Dust rose up around the truck’s tires as Wayne pulled up to a stop in front of the house on the other side of her SUV, and he cut the engine. He was frowning as he stepped out of the truck. “What’s going on?”

“Harold is taking my parents’ things.” Kaitlyn looked at Harold, her jaw set. “Without my permission.”

“I don’t need her permission.” Harold glared at Wayne. “This is my daddy’s house and our things. You just mind your own damned business.”

Kaitlyn gritted her teeth before she said, “Put it all back in my house, Harold.”

“Listen to Kaitlyn,” Wayne said calmly. “Or I’m going to make you, Barrett.”

When she looked back at Harold, he was glaring at Wayne, a crazy light in his pale brown eyes. For a moment her skin prickled as she felt Harold’s urge for violence against both her and Wayne.

“Mind your own business, Cameron.” The gleam in Harold’s eyes grew brighter. “She’ll get nothing when I’m through with her.”

Kaitlyn reached into the horse trailer. The jewelry box was sitting on the faded cushion of an antique chair. She took the box and turned to face Harold.

He grabbed hold of Kaitlyn’s arm, his grip like a vise, tight enough that pain shot through her and she gasped. “Give that back to me.”

Wayne stepped forward. He slammed his fist into Harold’s face.

Harold dropped and sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and onto his shirt. His eyes were watering and he held his hand to his face. He started to scramble to his feet but Wayne put his boot on Harold’s chest, pinning him to the ground.

“Touch her again,” Wayne said with barely controlled fury, “and I’ll make sure you won’t be getting up, much less touching anyone for a real long time.”

Hate rolled of Harold in waves as Wayne moved his boot away. Keeping his eyes fixed on Wayne as he got to his feet, her cousin wiped blood from his nose with his shirtsleeve.