The Gilded Cage (14 page)

Coda jumped onto his lap, and he groaned as her heavy body shouldered past him so she could take her position riding shotgun. The window was already down, and she stuck her face out, tongue and tail both waving happily. Fenn envied Coda’s simple life sometimes. Biscuit breakfast, afternoon naps, joy rides with the window down. Not a bad life at all.

Fenn backed up the truck and then started driving down the west field along the fence line. Cattle grazed beneath the noon day sun, their black and brown coats glossy as they munched on grass. A few lifted their heads, only a little curious as he drove past them.

The drive to the area of fence he needed to fix took about five minutes, but it was far enough from the ranch house to suit his purposes. The distance between him and the house felt good but also tinged with a sense of melancholy. He didn’t usually run from things. He was more the type to raise his fists and prepare for a fight even if he knew he was going to get his ass handed to him. But all of this…his new family, his childhood…the addictive red-haired bombshell in his bed, too. It was too much at once. A man needed to clear his head before facing all that chaos.

He hit the brakes and put the truck into park near a patch of the wood fence that was starting to lean over. The wood at the base near the ground was rotted and decayed, leaving jagged edges more like the rotted teeth of some great beast than a span of old fence. Coda followed him as he climbed down from the truck seat and went to the back of the truck to grasp some wood and tools. He dug around inside the rusted red toolbox until he found his leather work gloves. Eyeing the fence, he sighed almost blissfully. Mind-numbing labor would sure do the trick…He’d forget about everything weighing on him like the mountains hovering just behind the Broken Spur.

A cool breeze stroked his face as he hefted the first wooden fence post off the truck bed and carried it across the golden grass field to the damaged fence. The day was perfect for working. Bright sun, a little wind, and the smell of rain in the distance. They’d get storms tonight. He loved storms. The violent crash of sound and sight of lightning with wind and rain. It felt almost purifying once the damage was washed away.

Storms were a little bit like confessing one’s sins to an angry god. The building winds were like uttered prayers and the responding explosions like the bolts of light from a god’s cloudy mountain top. Then there was the sweeping rain, smooth and cool, washing away the debris, the darkness, and the bad in all its forms. Fenn wasn’t religious, at least not in the “church every Sunday” way, but he sensed power in the world around him, felt the touches of things bigger and more important than he was and was humbled by them.

After being stranded on the mountain with Hayden and calling out to his long lost brother, it was impossible to deny that some type of a miracle had occurred, because his brother had known exactly where to find them. If that didn’t force a man to consider things at work in the world that defied explanation, then he didn’t know what did.

He started to whistle softly as he set to work. “Carry On My Wayward Son.” Emery’s favorite song.

T
he bed was empty. Hayden shivered a little as she woke to the unpleasant realization.

Fenn was gone. He’d slipped out while she’d been asleep. Why? Had he not been completely honest with her about this morning when they’d made love? Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him so directly about his…er…performance. She didn’t want to think about if he really hadn’t been satisfied with her. He would be like all the other doms she’d been with, ones who’d walked away, blaming her when she couldn’t get them off because she couldn’t relax or trust them. But she had done that with him, had completely opened herself up. If he didn’t like her enough after that…She shook her head, trying not to think about it.

“Shit.” She rubbed her eyes and rolled onto her back with a frustrated groan.

Weren’t men supposed to want women who would speak their minds and not play games? Here she was openly talking to him, and he was running away. So much for that theory. She sat up and combed fingers through her hair. She was sore between her legs, but it felt good. He’d given her quite the pounding a few hours ago. The thought made her blush and cover her face with her hands. She wasn’t usually so modest, but something about him made her far more aware of herself and her desire. It wasn’t that she was ashamed or anything, but she definitely was a little shy, because she’d never shared herself so emotionally as well as physically. There wasn’t any real way of going back after that.

Hayden stifled a yawn and climbed out of bed. The room she was in now must be Fenn’s old room, the one he must have stayed in before he moved out to the trailer when he was eighteen. His record player sat on the small rickety-looking desk, where a stack of vinyls was propped up against a collection of Louis L’Amour Westerns. She walked over to the desk and ran a fingertip over the well-worn spines of the books. She liked to read, too. Her guilty pleasures were those old historical romances with the women in ripped dresses on the covers, clutched by hunky men in sensual poses.

Everyone had their hidden pleasures, even Fenn. She smiled and picked up the top book and thumbed to the first page. She read the words and pictured Fenn as a boy seated on the bed, legs crossed Indian style as he devoured the story. Her heart gave a little shuddering ache at the thought of that boy; how alone he must have felt all those years, never knowing he was the prodigal son to a famous and well-loved family so far away. Soon she would bring him home, and he could begin to heal. They all could begin to heal.

Hayden set the book aside and collected her pajamas and dressed. Then she made a mad dash back to her room where she showered. The clothes she had ordered had been delivered while she slept and were now sitting on her bed. She dressed in jeans and a blue short-sleeved t-shirt, and pulled her hair back in a ponytail with a blue ribbon. Her new boots were snug and perfect. Fenn’s new Stetson sat next to her other clothes. She picked it up and carried it with her as she went downstairs to the kitchen.

Wes was at the table, perusing a newspaper and nursing a cup of coffee. Hayden’s eyes widened. Her brother wore jeans and a black t-shirt. When was the last time he’d ever looked so…causal? Had he ever?

“What?” he asked, looking around as though expecting to see something else around him that would make her react with such surprise.

“You…You’re…” At a loss for words, Hayden just waved her hand up and down at his body.

Dawning comprehension gleamed in his eyes. “Some of us know how to dress for the occasion. I actually had the foresight to pack something suitable for a ranch.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed the Stetson on the table as she joined him. “Where’s Fenn?”

Wes shrugged. “Fence building? That’s what Mr. Taylor said.”

Fence building. She pictured him sweating, shirtless, the sun setting behind his gorgeous hunky silhouette as he singlehandedly hauled posts around on one shoulder. Yeah, she
really
wanted to see that.

“Listen, about last night.” Wes cleared his throat, eyes intense.

“Yes?” She reached for the section of the paper he’d discarded and perused it. The business section. Her favorite.

“Are you…all right? I mean…you both almost died. I suppose that would have to leave you shaken up.”

Hayden swallowed hard. It
had
left her shaken—to be honest, more than shaken. Yet she’d run to Fenn this morning and he’d put her at ease. Mind-blowing sex had soothed her somehow—distracted her, consumed her, made her feel alive and protected. That helplessness on the cliff hadn’t lasted long in the wake of Fenn’s all-consuming passion.

She cleared her throat and folded up the paper again. Suddenly the prospect of paper reading had lost its appeal.

“It was terrifying but…”

“But?” Her brother leaned forward in his chair and braced his arms on the table as he watched her.

“Fenn kept me safe.” How could she put into words what that had been like?

The crashing of metal, the screech of tires. She remembered reaching for him, screaming his name. Then the hanging truck on the cliff side, the way Fenn had held out his hand and caught her. She’d never doubted he wouldn’t catch her, wouldn’t save her. Such trust, complete and total…it had been easy, instinctive. She’d leapt with faith and surrendered to him. The pit of her stomach dropped out as the realization grew in her head.

Sleeping with him that morning hadn’t carried as much importance as the night on the mountain. Fenn had proven what sort of man he was—the kind who protected those he loved without a thought to himself. It was as Emery said. He was the older brother, the child who’d told his twin to escape while he stayed behind to buy time. Fenn was still that person. Twenty-five years hadn’t changed that.

“I owe him everything for keeping you alive.” Wes’s soft reply burned inside her chest.

The age difference between her and Wes had often made them feel like strangers to one another, but he still protected her when he could, and she still trusted him with her secrets. True siblings could do that, no matter how many years separated them.

Hayden leaned back against the marble island in the center of the kitchen.

“We can bring him home. That will be the only way we can repay him. He said he won’t go. He’s worried about Jim’s health and the ranch. Jim, I can’t help with, but I think I can figure out a way to save the Broken Spur. It’s being foreclosed. Can you help me with that?”

Her brother considered this. “Have you thought of asking Emery to buy the thing? He could easily do that.”

Hayden shook her head. “I know he could, but Fenn doesn’t want handouts. The ranch is struggling. Even if we cover the debt, it won’t be enough to keep the place afloat. We need to change it somehow, or find an additional revenue stream. I was thinking high-powered execs would love to come out here and relax. We could build additional cabins on the empty land behind the ranch house. Make them upscale little houses, but at the same time simple in design and accommodations. I think the rustic setting could really draw in high stress-level types of men and women who just want a quiet place to crash and not worry about anything.” She was thinking of her brother and Emery and many more like them. Coming out here where the air was fresh and pure was already working its magic on Wes and he was more at ease. They would make a fortune if she could get Fenn and Jim to agree.

Her brother leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “That’s not a bad idea. I might be able to figure something out with the financing. I’ll work with Callie. She might have some ideas on design, but this is your project so you’ll be in charge.”

“Good. She’s smart and has her mother’s creative side. She might know how to pitch it to her father, too.” Hayden got up from the table and retrieved the Stetson.

“That’s a little big for you, isn’t it?” Wes’s lips twitched.

“It’s for Fenn. I sort of destroyed his only hat.”

She went out the screen door onto the porch, ignoring her brother’s chuckles. Once she was on the edge of the porch she scanned the surrounding land. Two large fields were dotted with cattle and a large horse barn stood behind Fenn’s trailer and the ranch house. She could see barbed wire fences in the distance behind the house, opposite the cattle fields. Beyond the horses were the rising mountains. The view was spectacular.

Deep blue skies were held up by lowering white clouds tinged with gray at their bottoms. Rain was a faint aroma in the air and it made her nose tingle. She’d always loved storms; still did even after last night—there was something about the way the clouds moved, the rolling motion of a storm cell as it progressed across the sky. No escaping it, no avoiding it. The storm would come, and the rain would clean the earth. She’d always loved the feel of the cold crisp drops of rain on her skin.

She studied the clouds for another few minutes before she let her gaze drop. A blue truck in the distance marked Fenn’s location where he must be mending the fence.

Hayden trotted down the steps to her Jeep and then got in. She could offer to help Fenn. He’d likely refuse, stubborn man, but she’d still help, even if he didn’t want her to.

She drove to where he was and parked her Jeep next to the truck. A blur of white and gray was her only warning before Coda was on her, barking and jumping excitedly. Hayden fell against the side of the Jeep as Coda knocked her backward.

“Hey! Sit!” she commanded.

Coda dropped back onto her haunches, eyes alert and focused, her ears straining forward and tail twitching in the grass.

“Nice to see you two ladies getting along.” A rich male voice came from behind her.

She spun and found Fenn only inches away, in jeans and a red shirt that molded to his muscular chest and shoulders. Rings of sweat were around his collar and a few places on his sleeves, where he’d likely wiped his brow while he worked. Corded muscles gleamed on his forearms and the sight of them made her mouth go dry. What was it about a man and his muscles that could stop logical thoughts dead in a girl’s brain?

“Uh, hey.” She finally got the words out. Not that there were many of them. It didn’t escape her notice that around him her natural verbal articulation seemed to completely vanish. She reached into the Jeep for the hat.

“Here!” She tossed the new Stetson at him. Baffled, he caught it when it him square in the chest.

“What’s this?”

“A hat.”

His lips quirked. “I can see that. Why are you giving it to me?”

“I ruined your other one. And then it went over a cliff. I thought you could use a new one.”

He studied the Stetson, let his fingers explore its shape and texture. Then he spun it delicately before he set it on his head with one hand and tipped it low over his brow.

“It’ll do.” He removed it and set it on the nearest wooden fence post. “You know I didn’t want you buying me anything.” The warning in his tone made her shiver. His eyes were dark, dangerous, and completely fascinating. She couldn’t look away as he crowded her back against the Jeep.

“I think you keep looking for excuses to get paddled. That about right?” He dragged his index finger down her throat, tracing her collarbone, and she held her breath. Half the time he scared her—in a good way—with his half-whispered suggestions; and the other half of the time she craved him and his hands on her so much that she hurt with the wanting.

“I don’t think I should be giving you what you want, though. I will give you what you need.” He feathered his lips over hers, and the teasing, almost-kiss sent her heart skittering wildly. She reached up to embrace him, but he stepped back before she could get a good hold on him.

“What you need are these.” He set a pair of leather gloves in her hand. “Put them on and follow me.”

“No kiss?” she asked in a daze.

He was already walking away. “Honey, you need to put in a good day’s work before you earn any more kisses.”

She followed him over to his truck bed, pulling on the gloves. Several long wooden poles were stacked on top of each other.

“Grab one end.” He pointed to the pole on the top of the stack, and she did as he instructed. He joined her, and with his long arms picked up the opposite end of the pole. Together they walked it over to the section of missing fence. Several post holes had already been dug and Hayden helped set the pole into the spot where it belonged.

Three hours later she was dripping with sweat and everything hurt. She leaned back against the side of the pickup with Coda at her feet. The husky panted, having spent most of the early afternoon chasing squirrels. Fenn secured the last few nails on the final post they’d put down. His new hat sat on his head, a circle of sweat breaking it in. The man worked non-stop. More than a few times, she’d snuck in a five-minute break under the guise of getting some water from the large water jug in the truck cab. Her palms ached and as she removed the gloves she winced. Small blisters had formed along the tops of her palms where her fingers met her hand.

“You okay, honey?” Fenn called out. He finished the fence post wire and picked up his tools before walking toward her and Coda.

“Fine.” She hid her hands behind her back. Shame rippled through her, and she feared he’d realize how weak she was. Spoiled little rich girl.

“You’re lying.” He called her bluff and tucked his tools in the truck, then turned his focus on her.

“No,” she shot back and attempted to get past him.

He sidestepped and blocked her, snatching one of her hands as he did so. She fought to pull it out of his grasp, but couldn’t escape his iron hold. With gentle but firm fingers, he pried her fingers open. The blisters were impossible to hide. He was careful not to touch them.

The sudden need to justify herself had her responding. “I’m not weak.”

His features softened as he raised his eyes to hers.

“I never said you were. These are proof of a hard day’s work. Bear them with pride.” He lifted her hurting hand and kissed her injury—a faint touch, light but with such sweetness that it stole her breath. It was as though he sought to soothe her and care for her.

His praise and his tenderness warmed her inside, and she couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on her lips.