Canyon Shadows (25 page)

Read Canyon Shadows Online

Authors: Vonna Harper

21
 
“I
was as much a coward as my mother,” Shari whispered. “All these years of telling myself I was so different from her and I wasn’t.”
“The hell you weren’t.”
Grasping her upper arms, Maco propelled her backwards into the overstuffed chair in her living room. Although the sun had set, she hadn’t turned on any lights. Still she saw the discomfort in his eyes.
“You’re hurting. Your arm—”
“Will survive.” He leaned closer and worked a leg between hers. “If you keep thinking the way you are, you’re going to blame yourself because Buzz lost his mind.”
Buzz wasn’t crazy. Granted, his reasons for hunting her down didn’t make any sense, but that didn’t make him a candidate for the men in white coats with butterfly nets.
“I won’t,” she promised.
“I want to believe you, but the way you looked at him while he was calling you every—”
“You stopped him.”
“Not soon enough.”
She was trying to find a way to thank him for ordering Buzz to shut up when he dropped to his knees beside her. Despite the dust in his hair, she ran her fingers into it. Everyone, finally, was gone. Everyone except for the dogs and Maco.
And the memories that refused to back away.
The firemen had immediately turned their attention to putting out the fire. They’d killed the flames in a matter of minutes and fortunately only the structure had burned, but she’d have to have a new one built. First thing tomorrow she’d call her insurance agent. In shock, she’d been unable to do much beyond staring at the dark smoke, Maco’s arm, and Buzz’s pale eyes, but Rachele had brought one of the firemen over so he could treat Maco’s punctures. Although Buzz had whimpered that he was bleeding to death, after pulling up his shirt the fireman had told him to wait his turn.
Before that turn came, Sheriff Bill himself had arrived. A long time later, he’d left with a handcuffed and bandaged Buzz in the backseat. By then the firemen had rolled up their hoses and taken off.
“You don’t need me tonight,” Rachele had said once they’d rounded up and made room for the boarding dogs in the training kennel. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You aren’t going to be able to sleep, are you?” Maco asked.
“I don’t know. What about you?” She brushed the wrapping on his right forearm. “I’m so sorry. Rex shouldn’t—”
“Water under the bridge. Everything turned out all right.”
Had it? At the moment she wasn’t sure of anything. “Do you need some aspirin?”
“I’ll just bite on a bullet.” He took her hand and brought it close to his mouth, then brushed his lips over the back. A shiver sped through her. “So much happened today. It’s going to take a while to sort everything out. In the meantime ...”
“In the meantime what?”
“My knees are killing me. I’m too old for rolling around in the dirt.”
Although she could have sat there forever looking at him while he did electric things to the back of her hand, she realized he had to be as hungry as she was. Maybe she should offer to make them something to eat.
But if she did, they might stop talking about the important things.
“I’m staying the night,” he said as he sat on the chair arm and rested his good forearm on her shoulder. “Just wanted to get that out there.”
Suddenly she could no longer look at the cowboy who’d turned her world, and her, on end. “I want you to.”
Need you.
“Do you think Greenspeakers’ days are numbered? Maybe you’ll even find out who put that sand in the diesel tank.”
“Hope so.” He leaned into her, then straightened. “This isn’t working either.” Sighing, he stood. Yanking on his shirt buttons, he freed them. He started to pull his arms free of the sleeves, then stopped. “Arm stiffened up on me.”
Why he wanted out of his shirt didn’t matter. She’d help him. Full strength hadn’t returned to her legs, but at least they’d support her weight. They tackled the shirt one sleeve at a time, leaving his injured arm until last. He rewarded her by wrapping his good arm around her and pulling her against his naked chest.
He was such a good man.
The sexiest she’d ever known.
And she wasn’t worthy of him.
“We’re going to have sex,” he said. “It’ll take some creativity, but we’ll get this done.”
That was both the wrong and right thing to say. If only she could get a handle on her emotions.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You just went stiff on me. Don’t you like my suggestion?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Then what?”
Stepping back and pulling her top over her head gave her something to do. Taking off her shoes helped put a few of the pieces together.
“I can’t stop thinking about Buzz.” That was only part of it. “Carrying a grudge all these years. Hating me enough to want me dead.”
“Look at me.”
It took a moment, but finally she’d gathered enough courage to comply. He didn’t have to be here. He could have gone home or back to the dam site and she’d have understood he didn’t want anything to do with a woman who hadn’t told him her real name. Who’d hidden from it all these years.
“I don’t want to put pressure on you,” he began. “You’ve been through a lot today.”
“So have you.”
“Yeah.” He touched his bandage. Then he took her hand and placed her palm against the part of his belly his jeans and holster didn’t cover. Maybe if they were naked, he’d stop wanting to talk.
To simply fuck.
“Your mind’s messed up,” he said. “I get that. Hell, mine’s not in the best shape. You believed your father’s murderer was going to spend the rest of his life in prison and you could live your life without having to think about him.”
“I was wrong. Had my head in the sand.”
“Living in the present, don’t forget that.”
Suddenly, somehow, she was on her toes with her arms around his neck and her lips against his. She kissed him hard, her mouth closed, something like anger fueling her.
Shocked, she backed away.
“What was that about?”
He had an erection. Her panties were damp. Damn their damnable clothes!
She gently touched her bruised mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Instead of asking why, he shook his head. He continued shaking it as he one-handedly unbuckled his holster. That done, he unfastened and unzipped his jeans. It occurred to her that he might need her help with his boots. “Life comes with risks,” he said. “I tried to protect my ex; I shouldn’t have. Damn it, I’m not going to stand here listening to you apologize for what happened today.”
She avoided his gaze by crouching and grasping a boot. She held on to it and then the other while he pulled his feet free.
“I’m not just talking about today,” she said. Her chore had given her time to work on her emotions. She’d been willing to kill Buzz if she’d had no choice. Maco deserved everything she had to give.
“My mother changed our names because she was terrified the gang would hunt us down. I went along with her because—”
“Because you were a child.”
“Yes.” His jeans sagged over his hips as if begging her to get rid of them, which she did. Slow and easy with her fingers brushing his skin. “But I’ve been hiding behind the name she chose, living in the present while pretending the past hadn’t happened.”
While she stood looking up at him, he hooked a forefinger through her bra between her breasts and pulled her off balance toward him. “You think you aren’t worthy of me because you neglected to explain that Heather was your birth name? Damn it, there’s been a hell of a lot going on.”
The way he put it coupled with her breasts kissing his chest made her chuckle. The sound—to say nothing of his proximity—was putting her back together. Even before the sheriff had shown up, Buzz had told her he’d been watching her for more than a month, getting to know her schedule, seeing how much she loved Ona, how many nights she spent alone. In response to her question about how he’d initially tracked her down, he’d explained that her aunt’s and uncle’s names had appeared in the news articles following his arrest.
While in prison, he’d tried to hunt for her during the few times he’d had access to the Internet. His searches hadn’t turned up anything, but then he’d been paroled. Aunt Robynn and Uncle Dan’s address was in the phone book. He’d started watching their house. A few days later, she’d shown up for a barbecue.
Although he hadn’t been sure if the woman he’d seen that first time was the damn bitch of a child who’d sent him to prison, he’d followed her to Working Dogs. He’d watched her via binoculars, his certainty growing with every glimpse. One thing people always said about him, he had a good memory.
He didn’t forget.
Or forgive.
Warm, strong hands touched the sides of her neck. “Where’d you go?” Maco asked in a whisper. “Having a flashback?”
“Kind of.” Concerned he was asking too much of his injured arm, she gently pulled it off her neck and trailed his fingers over the top of her bra. “You did that earlier,” she told him. “Drove me crazy.”
“So.” He drew out the word. “Does this mean you’re ready to stop the psychoanalyzing? No more kicking yourself because you didn’t check to make sure Buzz was still behind bars? No more thinking I’m going to be upset about the name thing?”
She’d all but raised herself. Started a business that was paying the bills and brought her deep satisfaction. Although she wasn’t perfect, neither was she fatally flawed.
“Psychoanalysis is overrated. Gives people headaches.”
“That’s not where I’m aching.”
 
Ona had been banned to the living room couch, and the look she’d given Shari had said she knew what was up. Of course, the fact that neither she nor Maco wore a stitch probably had a lot to do with it.
Maco sat on the bed with his back supported by the headboard and his bandaged arm on the pillows she’d placed there despite his protests that he wouldn’t break.
“Shut up and enjoy,” she warned him. “I’m running the show tonight.”
At the moment, the
show
played itself out with her on her side and positioned so she could lean over his legs and tongue his cock whenever the notion occurred to her, which was often. She might have apologized for teasing him so long if not for the look of impatient patience on Maco’s features. How expressive he was.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said when she came up for air. “Hell of a way to go.”
“You? Is that all you think about?”
He nodded at his erection. “Hard not to.”
“Complain, complain.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m just wondering when we’re going to get to the main act.”
“I’m trying to decide. Hard to get everything lined up just right.”
She furrowed her brows, but although she’d love to tease and torture him until her tongue wore out, her day was catching up to her. On the other hand, she’d come to the conclusion that fucking was the absolutely best remedy for what ailed her.
Not that, thanks to him, anything did at the moment.
“I know.” She sat up, which made her breasts jiggle. Knowing he was watching, she leaned forward and rocked from side to side.
He snagged a nipple, stopping movement. “What the hell is it you know? And will you please demonstrate without any more talking?”
“Single-minded,” she grumbled as she made a show of trying to break free. “Sex, sex, sex. Is that all you think of?”
“Might as well think ’cause I’m not getting any.”
This was good. Lighthearted. Fun. Two people determined not to bring any baggage on to the bed. Staying in the moment, she straddled him. Night was almost here, darkness taking control of the room.
Eyes closed so she’d stay within herself, she straightened, reached down, and guided him into her. Felt him. Absorbed him. She took him slow, one blessed inch at a time, her tissues wet and welcoming. This was more than sex or fucking. It had become that thing called lovemaking.

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