One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) (4 page)

She almost begged, but then he moved. Slow and methodical so the length of his cock slid against her clit with each stroke. One stroke, two, three…it didn’t take long before the spiral was back full force and carrying her away. Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck and cried out into his chest as the orgasm tore through her.

“Awww, Sophie,” he growled, burying his face in her neck.

Tucker wedged her tighter against his thighs, pulling back and slamming into her. The force of pleasure riveted her in place, rendered her nearly useless to move, to do anything but feel. His teeth nipped her neck, his lips grinding into hers as he dug fingers into her lower back and came hard.

“Sophie…” He pumped hard a few more times, his back arched over her, his arms quivering. Sophie was sure a blast had gone off close to them, rendering her deaf and confused. Time and place ceased to exist. When Tucker curled around her, gathering her up in his arms, the world began to clear inch by inch. Several long moments passed before she could move or think. With soft kisses, Tucker lay on his side next to her. The soft crunch of hay pulled her to look at him. Their eyes met and her heart slammed to her feet. Tucker smiled slow and lazy, tracing one finger around her face and tucking hair behind her ear. She turned to her side, her middle full of emotions she couldn’t begin to comprehend. How was it she’d only known him a few hours?

Tucker leaned in for a hot, open-mouth kiss. His tongue drew little circles along hers, fanning desire right back to life. Sophie chuckled, warmth spreading through her.

“Better not do that or we won’t get out of this wagon.”

Tucker touched her cheek, letting his fingertips fall over the crest of her jaw. “I wouldn’t mind. Sophie, this was an incredible end to the day.” He was beautiful. Even in the barely-there-light, the planes and dips of his face, and self-satisfied gleam in his eyes grabbed her.

“Yeah.” They lay there a while longer, staring at each other in the slivered moonlight. Shuffling and conversation from the street made her take notice. “We’d better get out of here.”

They righted their clothes and Tucker helped her out of the wagon, pulling her against him for a mind-blowing kiss. Sophie sucked down the rise of schoolgirl flutters in her belly.

“How long are you in town?” Tucker put a hand to her lower back as they walked.

Sophie shrugged. She’d be heading back to Minnesota as soon as she was sure her mother was going to be all right. “I’m not sure exactly, but it won’t be long.”

He paused mid-step and turned to her. “See me again.” It was a demand, not a question, and by the slight quake in his voice, not one Tucker was used to uttering. A lump wedged in her throat. Sick mother. Bitchy sister. No job. No money. What a fine list of all the reasons she couldn’t do this with him again. What was the point of even thinking about a relationship, even a mini-one, when her life was so complicated right now? No, this hook-up with Tucker had been perfect. The constant tension in her shoulders was gone, and all her muscles loose and happy, her soul lighter than it had been in a while. There was no sense in messing with a good thing.

“Carla’s is only three blocks from here,” Sophie waved the direction. Her body was thumping with a satisfaction that she’d missed so much. The sex had certainly been overdue, but there was a residual she wasn’t used to—the sensation of connection, of fitting just right. Considering she hadn’t had an explosive roll in the hay quite like that before, Sophie wasn’t surprised her endorphins were pumping her with all sorts of tingly warm fuzzies.

“Is that a no?” The stiffness in Tucker’s tone drew her out of her head. He waited for a response with the look of a man who was used to being answered—and getting what he wanted. But he wouldn’t, not this time. Not with her, because she was so far removed from being relationship material, even if it was only for the time she was in Montana. She couldn’t take on another complication.

“I can’t, Tucker. I’m sorry.” The sound of his breath filled the silence for two beats…three, before he let his hand slip away from her back, giving her a chill and an almost desperate, sinking feeling in her gut. The absence of his touch stung a little, but that was okay. Because they were ending this now, walking away from each other and heading back to their separate lives. When they made it to Carla’s and Sophie stopped at the front porch, the cool, almost arrogant expression on Tucker’s face made it clear it was time to burn this bridge. Good, he was on board with the one-time-only idea.

She pulled a key from her purse and unlocked the door, trying to think of the right thing to say. Before she could speak, Tucker tipped his hat.

“Have a nice night, Sophie.” He spun, trotted down to the curb, and disappeared into the darkness.

Chapter Five

Two days has passed since the carnival and Sophie still had a sweet little ache between her legs and a tender hickey on the inside of her thigh. Tucker had marked her for crying out loud. And she’d loved it. Too bad that hot cowboy would forever remain nothing more than a delicious memory. Sophie smiled dreamily, eyes closed, and settled into the memory of hard muscles crushing her breasts and hay poking her ass. She’d replayed their time together over and over, waiting for some measure of guilt to show up, but it didn’t. Sophie wasn’t sure if she was more surprised over her wanton behavior with Tucker or the fact that she didn’t feel bad about it.

For a girl who always walked the straight and narrow, she’d sure given up on being Little Miss Perfect. Maybe it was her subconscious’ way of telling her to relax. Enjoy life instead of just struggling through it. Because it had been a struggle lately and, as she settled into the plush chair in the waiting area at the Pine Haven nursing home, Sophie had the heavy sense that the struggle wasn’t going to get better anytime soon.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the chair. She waited for the nurses to finish her mother, Violet’s, bath. They were getting results from the latest round of medical tests today, about the effects from her traumatic brain injury. Carla had gone to the guest kitchen for coffee, thankfully, giving Sophie a few minutes of solitude. Being under Carla’s roof was an experience in extreme patience. Not only was she demanding and loud, she nit-picked her husband, Mark, to death. The poor man kept a great face during daylight hours, but the two unleashed under the cover of darkness, fighting in hushed, bitter tones. If she heard it, there was no doubt Ethan did, too. Sophie was happy to be leaving Carla’s tomorrow for a short retreat. Her only regret was not being able to bring her nephew. Poor kid.

She sunk a little lower in the chair with an unladylike spread of her jean-clad knees and crossed her hands against her middle. She’d been tired since arriving in Montana, it seemed. Both her brain and her body refused to settle in. Sleep could easily wiggle in as she succumbed to the quiet around her and the cloud-like softness of the cushions. Her brain began a slow decent into barely-there awareness, the kind that teetered between awake and asleep.

A few blissful minutes passed where she processed nothing except the work of her chest as she breathed. Her thoughts slid into a breezy daydream where Tucker was wearing a highway construction worker’s bright orange vest and a hard hat. He was bleeding from his arm, and Sophie leaned over him with gauze pressed to his wound as traffic sped by on I-35. He tipped his hardhat back a little, a toothpick jutting cockily from the side of his mouth.

She smiled; recognized the gesture in her hazy state. Tucker was in her world, back when she was working as a medic and had something that resembled a future ahead of her. When she had something to offer a partner and herself besides uncertainty…

“Good god, Sophie, sit up straight!” Carla whacked her on the knee with a newspaper. Sophie looked up to see a coffee cup thrust in her face. “Were you sleeping? We can go in now.” Without waiting for an answer, Carla hurried off. Sophie took three big breaths, holding the hot white ceramic mug in her hands while her brain fog cleared. She wasn’t going to think about Tucker or what-ifs. Those things were the least of her worries today. Today, it was all about her mom.

Taking a scalding sip from the mug, Sophie went to her mother’s room. She’d come every day since arriving in Missoula, yet the impact of her mother’s condition still felt like a frying pan to the face. Violet Miller had been a preschool teacher for almost thirty years, an avid gardener and hiker, and stubborn enough to beat skin cancer and a breast tumor. She’d raised two girls alone, absorbing the trials of teenage PMS, boy-drama, dance lessons, and prom with a steady grace that Sophie relied on so much. It took stepping in the wrong place while snapping pictures in Glacier National Park to bring Violet Miller down. The rocks beneath her hiking boots had given way, pitching her over a cliff. Five seconds and twenty feet robbed her of the most vibrant years of her life, and left Sophie and Carla with a shell of the mother they knew.

Violet never made it back to her home in Minnesota. Massive head trauma left her in a near-vegetative state, making a thirteen-hundred-mile transfer back to St. Paul risky. Instead, Violet settled into a care facility near Carla’s home in Missoula. Sophie stayed in Minnesota, working and taking care of what she could of her mother’s loose ends. Even now, almost two years since the accident, there were accounts to settle, insurance claims to fight, and a never-ending stream of medical bills that weren’t touched by health coverage.

And Sophie missed her mom—her best friend—relentlessly.

She sat next to her mother’s bed. Violet was upright, her head lolled to one side, eyes closed. In the past year, her shoulder-length brown hair had gone completely gray. Sophie never imagined her mother would gray so early in life, she was only fifty-eight, and the shocking white seemed like another play of fate to strip Violet of her essence well before her time.

Carla bustled around the bed, straightening the sheets and smoothing the duvet. She checked to be sure Violet had the hand-knit bootie slippers on that her teacher friend from back home had made, and that her pink flannel gown was properly buttoned.

“Can’t trust anyone to do a good enough job, right mom?” Carla asked, sitting opposite from Sophie. Violet moaned, her eyes rolling to Carla for a second before dropping back to the left. Sophie froze when her mother’s eyes seemed to focus on her face. During her other visits the past two days, her mom hadn’t made any indication that she even realized Sophie was there.

“Hi mom, it’s Sophie.”

Carla scoffed. “She’s not stupid, Sophie. She knows it’s you.” Carla patted her mom’s hands. “She’s probably just shocked to see you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it mom?”

Sophie bit back a sharp reply. It was true. She’d wanted to visit more often, had even considered moving to Missoula during one of Carla’s guilt-tripping phone calls, but her jobs as paramedic and an occasional dance instructor left her little time. After being laid off, she’d been too emotionally strained to make the trip. Thinking of herself, she supposed, but making the long drive with all the noise in her head had seemed impossible and unsafe. But when Carla had called to say Violet was worse, it had changed everything.

“I’m here for a bit, mom. I’ll come see you more.”

Carla shot her a scalding look. “Don’t make her promises you can’t keep, Sophie!”

Sophie straightened in her chair and tilted her head, her lips set defiantly. She was about to retort when Dr. Keen walked in with a file. Tall and willowy, Amy Keen had a calm presence and steady voice that fit her profession well. She pushed her glasses up from the tip of her nose and smiled.

“Morning, ladies,” she said. Her reassuring voice soothed Sophie’s frazzled nerves. Dr. Keen leaned over Violet with a big, warm smile. “Good morning, Miss Violet.” Violet made no response.

“Carla, Sophie, let’s chat in the family room.” Sophie had met Dr. Keen several times during her visits here and had grown to admire the doctor’s honest, caring demeanor. The physician’s shoulders were set a little straighter as she walked them to the family room, her deep, bright smile less radiant than usual. A pang hit Sophie straight through the gut as the worried sensation she’d had earlier strengthened.

Settled in the family room, Carla poured more coffee as the doctor laid the file open. “The results of Violet’s latest scan are here, and I’m afraid it’s not good news.” The doctor placed two gray and white images of Violet’s brain side-by-side on the table. “As you know, she has an inoperable blood clot here and a pinpoint aneurysm in her brain here. It’s been slowly leaking off and on, but has remained remarkably stable all this time. Except now it’s grown in size since her last scan.” Dr. Keen used a pen to indicate a small dark gray area on the first image. Then she pointed to the newest scan. The gray area was twice as large as the first. Sophie leaned in closer, dread multiplying in leaps and bounds at the image.

“This dark area here shows how much brain tissue has died since her last scan four months ago. The doctor believes she’s had a stroke sometime in between then and now, and this damage here is the result.” The doctor pulled the pen back and looked at them both. Sophie couldn’t meet her eyes.

“This area here,” she said, pointing to the new scan with one beautiful fingernail, “is the new bleeding from the enlarged aneurysm. So, what this all means is that the aneurysm is bleeding more than before, and her risk of rupture, massive stroke, or, at the very minimum, multiple mini-strokes, is very high.” Sophie attempted to set her coffee mug down, but her hand wouldn’t stop shaking and her arm refused to extend toward the table. Carla was silent, never a good sign. Sophie slid a sideways glance at her sister; her face was pale and drawn.

Dr. Keen cleared her throat and continued. “We can’t say when a life-ending stroke or bleeding may happen. All we know is that it’s inevitable and, unfortunately, there isn’t any type of treatment that is going to make a difference. Keeping her comfortable is our main priority at this point. I’m very sorry.” A soft touch alighted on Sophie’s hand, but she couldn’t move her eyes from the floor to acknowledge Dr. Keen’s gesture. Inevitable. Of course it was; they’d known that all along. But there was always hope that somehow, Violet’s body would turn itself around. They’d moved her to this care facility partly because of their advancements in traumatic brain treatment, but there was nothing they could do for her.

Sophie’s eyes drifted to the wall, a bubble seemingly wrapped itself around her and lifted her off to her own little world. Her mom was going to die, the reality of that was much closer than it had ever been. All her life, Sophie had done everything right. Perfect grades, excelled at dance and athletics, aced her college courses, and landed a good job as soon as her shiny new medic license was in her hands. Then her world crashed. Sophie had been everything and now she had nothing. She’d come here thinking there might be some hope.

But there wasn’t any.