One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Sophie was three pounds, two ounces when she was born. No matter how many times Violet retold Sophie’s birth story over the years, one thing never changed: the raw undertone of fear in her eyes when she spoke about how small and frail Sophie had been, how each breath was like the flutter of a butterfly, bringing hope that, despite the odds, her small body would blossom. That fear was never masked by a smile or twinkle in Violet’s eye. Every retelling seemed to invoke the same sense of desperate unknowing—wondering if at any moment her fragile baby was going to die.

The sound of Violet’s labored breathing was the only noise in the room. And as Sophie clutched the blue seersucker fabric of her mother’s nightgown, she was positive the emotion inside her was the same that Violet had experienced then—the urgent, primal need to hang on to the one she loved, to encourage her to fight for life. It was a love passed from Violet’s womb to Sophie’s soul, and as she felt her mother’s breaths rise and fall against her knuckles, Sophie knew that was the greatest gift she ever gave.

The nurse had come in earlier and gave Violet a light sponge bath, wiping away the vestiges of her body’s attempt to purge itself as death slowly sank in. She’d been cleaned with fresh soap and powder, but all Sophie could smell was an undertone of Red Door perfume, the scent her mother had put on everyday for as long as Sophie could recall. In the past two hours, Violet’s breathing had slowed, her skin chilled like winter’s kiss. In the past few minutes, the bound of her jugular had slowed until it was undetectable against the translucent skin of her neck. Sophie gently wiped away residue from her mother’s lips, but no matter how many times she wiped, it just kept coming.

It was time. And Sophie was nowhere near ready.

Carla sat beneath the big bay window, her knees drawn to her chest and forehead against them. She hadn’t looked up in so long, Sophie thought she’d maybe passed out from stress, but she was too drained to ask or to care. With shaking fingers, Sophie rubbed the back of Violet’s hand. The loose skin bunched and slid under the contact, ropey veins rolling out of the way. Sophie felt each knobby finger, each knuckle, each tip of every fingernail. Violet’s hands were beautiful, even now. They were giving hands, working hands, loving hands, and she’d miss their touch until her last days.

She studied her mother’s face. Those eyes had looked at her with so much love and adoration. They’d been forgiving, no matter what Sophie had done wrong, no matter what horrible thing teenage angst made her say or do. Those lips smiled with more warmth than the sun as Sophie grew and accomplished and succeeded. No matter what was wrong, no matter what was right, Sophie looked to Violet’s face for reassurance. Even now, in the last whispers of life, Violet’s beautiful face was exactly what she needed.

A soft sound behind her made Sophie turn. She expected the nurse, but Tucker’s big body claimed the doorway, hat in his hands, his eyes full of despair. Sophie sobbed and looked away. Anguish and relief were twins inside her. Rubbing her forehead, she managed a breath.

“What are you doing here?”

He took a step, his boot crunching softly on the wooden floor. “Sophie.” It was a plea, an offering, a condolence. She couldn’t do it, not now. Sophie hung her head in her heads and heaved a breath.

“Please go.”

He came forward a little more. “Soph.”

“No!” She swiveled in her chair, her voice a desperate hiss. “Please, please go.” Violet made a gurgling sound, drawing Sophie back. Violet’s lips gasped, her entire chest rising off the mattress and slumping back down. Sophie shook her head.

She knew.

“Carla!” Desperation cut her in half. This couldn’t be happening. Not for real. For months, death was a possibility that never came. Today shouldn’t be the day.

Sophie grabbed a box of tissue from the stand and threw it at Carla. It hit her in the top of the head. “Please don’t make me do this alone.” Her sister’s head snapped up, eyes huge like she was seeing the room for the first time. Without a word, she scrambled to her feet and raced to the bathroom, slamming the door.
Click
.

Wiping her face with one hand, Sophie stood over her mother. She touched Violet’s belly and gave her a little pat. “Mom, please. Not today. Don’t do this today.” She dropped the rag and put both hands on Violet’s chest, gripping and smoothing the nightgown.

“Tomorrow, all right? Not today. We’ll do this tomorrow. Stay with me one more day. Please, Mom…please.” Sophie sunk to the mattress, her forehead leaning on Violet’s chest. Rise and fall. The smell of phantom perfume and soap permeating the air as the rise and fall shuddered. Then stopped.

“I can’t…I can’t…” Sophie choked, her knees wobbling to hold her in place against the bed. She shook Violet’s chest, suddenly more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. Huge tears punched her eyes, clogging her nose and throat and suffocating her in salty grief. “Mom…”

Alone.

“Tucker!” His name squeaked from her lips, the sound of it forcing out the longing she’d been holding inside. He’d already left, was probably long gone. Sophie lost her legs, slid to the floor to the sound of racing boots. And then he was there, his strong arms bringing her up against his chest as she clung to him. And cried.

…

Sophie leaned over and touched Violet’s cheek with a lingering kiss, and Tucker knew he’d never be the same. In the hours that passed, he’d convinced Carla to come out of the bathroom, helped Sophie fill out some paperwork, called Carla’s husband to come get her, and held Sophie’s hand while she and Carla said a final good-bye.

They hadn’t spoken much and that was all right. There weren’t any words that would be good enough. Silence was like a salve, or so he hoped, as Sophie lost a couple battles with tears, composed herself, and sunk into the same cycle again. She’d collapsed with her head on his lap as he drove them to Paint River. Tucker slid his fingers through her hair, hoping it comforted her a little, and by the soft, steady sound of her breathing, thought it probably had.

Emotions were fickle and they’d ganged up on him like a twin tornado. He didn’t know how to respond to the depths of grief the women in his life had gone through today. That they seemed to welcome his presence made him feel like he’d done something to help, and in that, Tucker allowed himself some give. But for the bitter words he’d said to Sophie, he gave himself hell. Looking down at her still form, Tucker wanted to apologize, to ask for her forgiveness. When the time felt right, he would, if he could think of the right words to say.

Tucker parked in front of the ranch house. He sat and stared out the windshield for long moments, running his hands through Sophie’s hair. She was sound asleep and, though he hated to wake her, Tucker roused her with a gentle shake. Sophie sat up with a blank stare and rubbed her face. And burst into quiet sobs. Tucker went to the passenger door and gently pulled her out, cradling her in his arms as he walked up the porch steps and into the empty house.

Her arms embraced his neck as he bypassed the couch, and took her to his room. He clicked on the bedside lamp and lay Sophie on the neatly made bed. He went to the attached bathroom and grabbed a tissue. Sophie was curled up on her side when he hurried back. Her soft sobs tugged at his heart and chipped away at his strength.

Kicking off his boots, Tucker lay down facing her, smoothed hair away from her face and dabbed tears away from her cheeks. Her small hands gripped his shirt as she pulled herself closer until Tucker had her completely wrapped up in his arms. His cheek to the top of her head, her leg thrown over his thigh, his hand making small circles on her back. The weight of her body next to his on the mattress was a delicious sensation.

Night deepened the room, lulling Tucker into a half sleep. Soft pressure against his chest roused him a little, warmth sliding along his chest sending warm flutters over his skin. The sensation poured over his abdomen and along his ribs, tracing along his pecs and over his collarbone. Pleasure eased him awake. His eyes fluttered open to see Sophie staring at him in the soft glow of lamplight.

Tucker sucked in a long breath as Sophie’s hands pushed up under his shirt and cupped the column of his throat. He leaned up on his elbows, reached across his body and pulled the shirt over his head. Sophie mumbled something as her cheek slid onto his chest. Her right hand trailed lazily over his flesh, stopping to trace each contour, each dip and line of muscle. It might have been minutes or hours, he didn’t know, didn’t care as he surrendered to the simple pleasure of her touch. He was completely, undeniably in love with her. No denying it, no sense in trying.

Her lips pressed against his ribs as she murmured, “So much more than I imagined.”

Tucker grabbed her hand in his, brought her knuckles to his lips as their eyes met. He couldn’t disassemble the sadness from the longing in her eyes. When she moved over him and pressed her lips to his neck, he hoped that this is what forgiveness felt like. Sophie straddled him, placing his face between her warm hands.

Tucker grabbed her elbows. “Sophie…”

She pressed a finger to his lips, pleading with her eyes. No talking. Just take it all away. He relaxed and sank into the pillow. Her mouth followed him down, kissing and nipping at his jaw, his neck, over his collarbone. Tucker shivered, gripping her hips with a groan. His body melted under the ministrations of her mouth and her hands.

He willed his body to stay still and relaxed while Sophie traced and kissed every inch of his chest. She massaged his biceps and ran her palms down the length of his forearms before curving in to the waist of his jeans. All the best whiskey in Paint River’s basement couldn’t produce a drunk like this. The button popped on his jeans, the zipper released and Sophie’s warm hands slipped inside. Tucker’s head lolled back against the pillow. When her fingernails dragged over his groin, he lay back with a groan and pulled her up against the length of his body. Their mouths met softly and tension melted from Sophie’s muscles. She swayed into him, stroking his neck and shoulders with slow hands.

There was a line about to be crossed. He could feel it, but he didn’t know what it was. Even in her grief, she needed him and he wasn’t going to deny her. He may never be anything more for Sophie than a distraction, but for right now, it would be enough. And when he set foot over that line and the truth became crystal clear, he’d take the consequences. Whatever they may be.

Love ran deep, even if it meant an imperfect ending.

In an instant, their clothes lay in a mess at the end of the bed. Never taking his eyes from her face, Tucker smoothed his hands over her body, memorizing the feel of her supple curves. He kissed every inch he could reach, pounding the taste of her into his mind and locking it away while he willed her scent to become a permanent perfume.

Sophie straddled him and bent her lips to his skin. Having her like this, her hands and lips and soul on him, could happen every day and never be enough. She bit his neck with tender nips while she lowered herself over him, taking his cock in one steady slide inside her body. Every movement was unhurried and savored, giving them time to commit these moments to memory and lock them away. The room began to swirl as Tucker stroked Sophie in the way he knew made her unravel. Her soft moans turned into a ragged announcement of flight, and she carried him away with her. Tucker released in an ecstatic burst at the same time her inner muscles clamped hard and she cried his name.

He could barely breathe, thought he might be suffocating from the force of his own feelings. Sophie collapsed against him, her breath on his neck. Entwined, captured, they held each other as Tucker accepted he would never fully recover. Her breathing steadied and slowed. His heart didn’t stop racing. She breathed a sleepy moan.

Trailing a finger over her spine, Tucker pressed his lips to her cheek. “You have me, Fifi. You’ll always have me.” He succumbed to the lull of exhaustion to the sound of four words against his skin.

“I love you, Tucker.”

When he woke in the morning, Sophie had left and her cabin was cleaned out.

Gone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sophie put a hand to her stomach and took a long drink of cold water. The bar was packed and she was nowhere near ready to be in the middle of it. Hiding behind the bar for a few minutes gave her some reprieve, but knowing she had to go back out into the herd made her heart race. The internal pilot light that kept her fire going was long cold. No matter how many times her ass got grabbed or patrons tried to raze and jibe her, Sophie didn’t have it in her to play back. Everyone got a basic smile, a polite hello, and that was all she could muster.

Her time at the Tap was winding down. She’d accepted a job at the dance academy in Missoula just the day before. Figured it was time to test the waters and see if she could make a go of things here. The plan was a good one and she was satisfied with it…somewhere, beneath the grief. Fred ran a hand over her back in a friendly tickle. “How you doing, kid?” The piercing in his tongue caught and threw the light.

“Fine.” She wasn’t one to usually understate how she was feeling, but a firm sense of denial was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. Her mother’s ashes sat in an urn above Carla’s fireplace, and though they’d been together nearly every day since Violet’s death, they hadn’t really spoken. There’d been no funeral, no wake. That was what Violet wanted, which left Sophie and her sister to lean on each other. She knew each of them had to deal with the loss of their mother in their own way.

Almost two weeks had passed since her last night with Tucker, but she still felt him under her hands each night when she slipped under the covers. Despite the intimacy he’d shared by letting her touch him, the hurt and reality of his harsh words stayed with her. She loved him, yes, but how was she supposed to navigate the waters with so much uncertainty in her heart? Maybe he loved her; maybe he never really had. She’d been too broken and too numb to stay and find out the morning after Violet died.

Sophie lifted the bar gate as the band tuned up. The band had two female dancers as part of their show, both in tops shorter than the one Sophie wore, with shorts that were little more a denim thong. Every man in the bar was wedged in front of the stage. Just as the lights fell, Sophie heard her name. She looked up into brilliant turquoise eyes. Momentarily stunned by their beauty, she quickly realized the rest of the man was just as gorgeous. Tall, broad physique. Hard, square jaw and chin, straight nose with a blunt tip, slightly downturned eyes. An upper lip that jutted up a little. A flush crept over her at the same time a smack of familiarity hit her.

“Sophie Miller?” The man extended a hand. She didn’t take it.

“Yes?”

He looked extremely pleased with himself. “Cole Haywood. Nice to meet you.” Sophie leaned back so far on her heels she almost tipped over. She grabbed a chair to steady herself. Tucker’s brother. He hitched a crooked smile that mirrored Tucker’s and a well of fresh grief bubbled inside her.

“I had to come meet the woman who
finally
broke my brother.” He looked like this was the best possible thing that could ever come out of his mouth. Sophie wanted to sit down.

“Br-broke?”

Cole swiped a hand in the air. “Yeah. It’s amazing. For the first time, my smart-ass, cocky, talks-back, self-centered son-of–a-bitch brother has nothing to say.
Nothing
. He’s quiet and moping and hides out in the woodshop most of the day.” Cole gave a satisfied nod.” I’d say he’s a broken man. And it’s a beautiful thing.”

Sophie gaped at the lighthearted way he uttered the words. “He’s not broken,” she said.

Cole lightly touched her arm and leaned in close to her ear. “He misses you. Talk to him. Please?” His face was serious when he pulled back and Sophie saw the worry there. Cole Haywood had a commanding presence and didn’t seem the type to go scurrying around trying to fix his brother’s messes. For him to be here meant something.

She spread her hands wide with a ragged sigh. “I have nothing to offer him.”

Deep understanding darkened those amazing turquoise eyes. Cole’s lips turned down in sympathy. “You do or he wouldn’t be this damn quiet. And as much as I love not having Tucker arguing with me constantly, I miss my brother. If you don’t want him, give him a proper good-bye. If you do, give him a proper hello.” Cole smiled warmly as he waited for her response. Sophie could tell he was a man used to being answered, but she could only manage a short nod of understanding.

“If you have time, you might want to stop by the old bridge early tomorrow morning.”

The bridge, where she’d first began the free fall into Tucker. Tears flashed her eyes. She shrugged bonelessly. “I can’t.”

Cole stared at her a moment. “Well then, that’s a damn shame.” And he was gone.

…

Since Violet’s death, Sophie had experienced a slow, almost methodical release of tension that left her almost euphoric with a new weightlessness. Each day, a new muscle group seemed to loosen, a different area of her body would relax, and her mind lightened a little more. She imagined it was because Violet had taken all her pain with her, a mother’s final act of love.

She approached the covered bridge as the sun made a full ascent over the trees. Cole Haywood had said to come early, but she’d been unclear what early meant exactly. And with no intentions of actually coming anyway, she hadn’t bothered to ask. But here she was and she’d never expected to see the hand-carved sign hanging above the entrance.

July Pass

Heart pounding, Sophie approached and stood just inside the mouth of the bridge. The water beneath was higher, thanks to the recent rain, and trickled over the stones and rocks with calming melody. A beam of sunlight caught her attention where it shone like a spotlight on the floor. Sophie squinted against what she thought she saw, and stepped inside a little farther just to be sure.

The floorboard on the threshold had writing on it.
Carnivals are awesome
. Looking down the length of the bridge, Sophie saw that every other floorboard had been replaced to create a pattern of old, dark wood and new, pine-colored planks. All of the new planks contained writing.

She hurried inside, reading them as she walked.
Squirrels are the devil.
She caused fireworks in my heart.
I love her.
Tears hit her eyes, blurring the word
love
and making it hard to continue. She kept walking:
Horses are not evil. Mmmm, peach pie. A beautiful angel got her wings. ~Fly away, Violet~

Sobbing, Sophie crouched and ran her fingers over the writing. He’d created a timeline of her stay at Paint River. He’d stolen July, stuffed it inside the Montana time machine and made it stand still. For a man who’d sworn he couldn’t feel anything for her, he’d taken hours to create this treasure. For her.

“Fifi?” Tucker stood at the opposite end of the bridge, hat in his hands, a huge golden horse behind him.

“You lied.” Sophie crossed her arms and tossed back her hair. It was a show of bravado to cover how hard she was trying not to hope. “You said you didn’t feel anything for me. But this…” She lost her words. Tucker twirled the hat in his hands before taking a few, short, halting steps inside the bridge in her direction.

“I didn’t know how to be that man.” His voice carried just above the rush of the water below. “I still don’t…but I want to try. God, Sophie, I want to try.”

Her soul lurched as she leaned forward on her knees. Tucker crossed the distance in a rush and lowered to his knees before her. His thumbs swept at her tears and with each one he carried away, her hope grew.

“Tell me how to apologize so it’ll matter, Sophie. Tell me how to make it better and I will.” She gripped his wrists, trying to get herself under control.

“You…you stole July.” Sophie tipped forward until her forehead rest against his chest.

“I didn’t want to let you go,” he whispered against her hair. “I love you.” He hugged her tighter. “You make me better, Sophie. You make all the things I thought I couldn’t have, possible. God, I’m going to screw up, but I promise I’ll be that man—the one with a kid under each arm and one stuck to each leg who shows them what it means to be loved. And you…you’ll never doubt it. Not for a single second.”

Sophie pulled back, tried to look at him, but only burst into tears again. Gently, Tucker helped her to her feet. “Please, Fifi, whatever you’re looking for…whatever you need to make your life full again, we’ll find it. Together.” Sophie threw herself into his arms and held on tight. She’d come to Montana struggling under the weight of life, but that weight had started to fall off a chunk at a time, leaving her finally free. Free to start creating that new way, with the man she loved by her side.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. He stroked her hair and pressed her tighter against him. Sophie relished his strength and how his embrace seemed created just for her. Tucker kissed her forehead and pulled back, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“So, does this mean I finally have the right to tell you that you’re no longer allowed to work at the Tit?”

She laughed. “Oh my god, Tucker.”

“Seriously, I’m burning that shirt…”

Sophie whipped his hat off his head, threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him in. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

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