Authors: Neva Brown
A ripple of laughter from Casey and Jennifer’s dad brought Tres from the kitchen.
“Not much question about his being Jennifer’s Jelly,” Casey said.
With Jelly, AKA Lazarus, and all the cat paraphernalia Casey had acquired stowed in the back seat of the Adams’ car, along with Jennifer who insisted on sitting by the cage with her arm over it, Casey and Tres stood in the driveway watching the car until it went out of sight up the mountain road.
Tres’ arm rested on Casey’s shoulders. He felt them slump ever so slightly as she sighed.
“Feeling sad about Lazarus leaving?”
“No, not really. Lots of animals have come and gone in my life, but none of them were really mine.”
The note of resignation in her voice touched Tres’ heart. He had a feeling she thought he was one of those animals. The special emotional connection they’d had when the doorbell rang had gone. He sensed now was not the time to try to rekindle it.
“It’s too cold to be standing outside,” Casey said as she turned back up the driveway toward the door. “Let’s go in and let you get some sleep. You look dead on your feet.”
“That bad?” Tres grinned. At least he was in the same house with her again. It felt good. He could rest.
“There’s a bedroom and bath behind the open mezzanine upstairs,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“You sure it’s okay for me to stay?” he asked as he removed two pieces of luggage out of his SUV.
She looked at him like he was demented, then chuckled. “Of course. With Lazarus gone, I’ll need someone to keep me company.”
Tres awoke in late afternoon with a sense of well-being. He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down into the living room where Casey sat in a wingback chair near the fireplace. A book lay in her lap but she was staring out the windows at the big, featherlike flakes of snow falling. The bright sun of the morning was gone and snow enclosed the house in a curtain of white.
He watched her answer the cell phone on its first quiet chime. Her husky, soft voice pleasured his senses as he descended the stairs.
“Thanks for calling. I’d been debating the advisability of getting out tonight.” After listening a short time, she said, “Sure. Let me know when. Bye.”
An unsettling sensation stirred Tres’ adrenaline. He suspected it was jealousy. Had she been going on a date tonight?
Chapter 21
Casey put down her cell phone and looked up at Tres standing at the bottom of the stairs. Pure joy made every nerve in her body tingle. She spoke, “That’s a relief. I volunteer as a counselor at one of the churches in Ruidoso. Tonight was scheduled for family counseling but it’s been postponed. The weatherman says the snow will get heavier and continue at least through the night. I hope you’re all right with being snowed in for a day or two.”
Relief rushed through Tres. His eyes glistened. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be snowbound with. We can catch up on what’s been going one in each other’s lives the last few months or something.” The
or something
had more appeal, but catching up would have to do for now.
Casey said the first thing that popped into her mind as he settled beside her on the couch with his shoulder brushing hers. “You go first. I’m sick and tired of my own doings.” She saw uncertainty, maybe even fear, in his eyes for just a second then saw resolve.
Tres leaned back, put his arm on the back of the couch behind her, and shifted a little so he could see her face. In a subdued voice, he said, “I supposed now is as good a time as any to get some things cleared up between us. First of all, I’m not the biological father of Melanie’s son. Even though he was conceived while we were engaged, he is the son of the man Melanie married and has since divorced. The private investigator I hired assimilated all the evidence, DNA and all, without any upset to anyone.” When Casey patted him on the thigh, as if to comfort him, he gave a sigh of relief and instinctively put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
After a little, she said, “I’m glad you told me, and I’m glad for Melanie’s son that it worked out the way it did.”
Tres’ almost choked. He’d not given a thought to how the boy would have felt to find out another man was his biological father.
When had he become so impervious to other people’s feelings?
Casey broke into his thoughts as she said, “From what you said, there’s more.”
“A pretty big ‘more’, I’m afraid,” he said with regret in his voice. “I didn’t realize how thick-headed and insensitive I was until Rosalinda pretty much flayed me about the way I handled that mess with my father and his wife. In hindsight, I know how much damage was done, probably by me more than by them.”
He watched bright tears pool in Casey’s eyes then spill over. He turned her to him and hugged her tight, soothing with gentle hands, whispering, “I’m sorry, so sorry. You are precious beyond price to me. Please, forgive me.”
Casey blinked her tears away, then placed her hands on each side of his face in a soft caress. “You are forgiven unequivocally and I hope you can forgive me for not dealing with things better. I’ve had lots of time to think about my immature and self-centered responses to so many things.”
Tres eased her closer, brushed a soft kiss across her lips then deepened the kiss as Casey melted against him in sweet, hot yielding. His worries and tensions vanished like mist as he heard Casey’s little purr-like sigh. He found special places to touch to cause that sweet, sexy purr.
His Casey liked to be petted.
He kissed the perfect shell of her ear and whispered, “Does this let you know I forgive you for all real or imagined things for now and forever?”
Casey squeaked and pushed him away as he blew in her ear. “That tickles.” Her husky, soft laugh sent ripples of liquid heat through him. With a sparkle in her eyes, she said, “Welcome back, my friend. It’s been a long time.”
Tres knew exactly what she meant. That one little puff of breath in her ear reminded him, and evidently her, of that time long ago when they roamed the pastures on young horses; played jokes one each other; teased; raced; talked of serious things, or what seemed serious at the time; skinny-dipped; and formed a bond that held them now like a magic cord. He grinned at her and said, “I’m glad to be here, friend, and I might add, you didn’t make it easy.”
A log in the fireplace burned in two creating a shower of sparks. Tres got up and stirred the coals before placing another log on the grid.
“How did you find me?”
Tres turned his back to the fire and, with what looked an awful lot like a smirk on his face, said, “I snooped. Clyde Jones’ basket of out-going mail got knocked off his desk one day when I was there and I just happened to see a big fat manila envelope with your address on it. A lucky accident, don’t you think?”
“Must have been fate,” Casey teased with a knowing glint in her eyes. “So, since you’re here, tell me about the goings-on at the Running S. Do you ever get over to see Sassy Silk?”
He settled beside her again and said, “As a matter of fact, I do. She is in foal and doing well. Ira has spoiled her like you can’t believe. He has the stable hands put her in her body swing at night. He says she rests better and it takes the strain off her legs. He even got Dan to bring Raider over to keep her company.”
Casey laughed. “It sounds to me like three spoiled conspirators getting everyone to dance to their tune.”
Tres twined his finger around a lock of her silky auburn hair. “You’re probably right. The vet goes by to check on Sassy every few days. He says she is perfectly normal and right on target with the pregnancy development. I suspect he encourages the pampering. Sassy’s recovery is pretty much his claim to fame.”
They sat in companionable silent with only the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace. Casey knew she should be a more entertaining hostess but it felt so good to just sit and be by Tres. She’d stay still for just a little longer then go finish dinner preparations. Then she remembered and said, “I almost forgot to tell you, I brought in your laptop and cell phone. They’re on the table by the front door.”
“Thanks, they probably wouldn’t fare too well out in this cold. I should check the messages, I guess. Rosalinda has probably called to tell me how Mattie Lou is doing.”
Casey frowned. “Has she been ill?”
Tres dropped his hand to rub the palm across her slender shoulder, telling himself to keep his mind on what they were talking about. “No, she’s fine and just recently back from Scotland. She brought two women with her. One is a cousin about her age who has trouble with arthritis, too. It seems the Scottish weather was dealing them both misery. They decided to come to Cielo Alto for a while and go through a series of treatments at the clinic. The other woman who came is the one who traveled to Scotland with Mattie Lou earlier. She’s the artist that does a lot of traveling. She decided she would stay around for a while and paint West Texas landscapes.”
“How does the cousin like ranch life?”
Tres chuckled. “They haven’t even tried it. Mattie Lou said they needed to be close to town. They had too much to do to be on the road going to and from the ranch all the time. They’re settled at MacVane Manor. Rudy and/or Greta show up once in a while to get something Mattie Lou wants from the ranch, but Mattie Lou hasn’t been out herself.”
Casey tucked a leg up under her and twisted to face Tres. “Do you suppose the ranch reminds her too much of J.D.?”
“Maybe, but I believe she is probably just enjoying the companionship of other women her age. I think she had so immersed herself in taking care of J.D. that she had lost touch with doing things with friends just for pleasure. Evidently she found that while she was in Scotland and doesn’t want to lose it again.”
Casey smiled and stretched. “I’m sitting here being lazy and letting you entertain me when you’re probably starving. I thought we’d have an early dinner since you missed lunch.”
He glanced out the window. “I’d planned to take you out to dinner, but I guess that is not a very good plan in this kind of weather.”
She stood. The velvety turquoise sheath dress settled softly over her sleek body, leaving only the tip of her soft leather shoes showing. Her long silver necklace and dangling earring caught the light from the fireplace, glittering as if winking at him. She held out her hand to him. “Come to the kitchen with me while I finish up so we can eat.”
Tres watched her take roasted beef out of the oven, then place bread and apple pie in it to warm. Not a hint of the once-impaired coordination was evident. He should offer to help, but just watching her move made him feel good. She arranged the meat on a platter with potatoes, carrots, and onions. The tantalizing aroma of the food filled the room and made his mouth water.
With a quick survey, after everything was on the table, she invited him to sit. He stepped around the table and pulled out her chair before sitting down himself. He took it all in.
Colorful salad, thick slices of home-baked bread, the platter of roast beef and vegetables, and freshly made apple pie.
“This brings a whole new meaning to food and shelter from the storm,” he said.
In more ways than one. Being with Casey is his food and shelter of a whole different kind. Feeding his soul and bringing him peace. That is, if the testosterone humming in his body that threatened to become a roar can be called peace.
“I know what you mean. My stay here has given me new insight on things I’ve never given much thought to before like food and shelter. I never realized how much effort it takes keep all the loose ends gathered up.”
As they served themselves, Casey told Tres about the man who owned the house being a freelance travel writer who traveled to places all over the world. In-between bites she told how his various cookbooks had made her learn-to-cook project an international adventure full of mishaps and messes.
Tres relished the food right along with the lighthearted lilt of Casey’s voce. “Did you find that you liked food from other countries?”
“Some of it was okay, but simple fare suits my taste buds best of all, but I had fun trying other things.” She replenished the water in their glasses while she talked. “Another eclectic thing I found is his library.” She cut a piece of roast neat and tidy and took a bite.
Tres watched the subtle movement of her lips
How awesome would her mouth would feel moving against his with the same little motions it was making as she chewed?
He slammed the door on those thoughts and said, “I found an unbelievable library in an old house on a station I bought when I first went to Australia. I stayed there for several months with no TV reception and very poor radio reception. I really got good use out of those books.”
“
Did you take them with you when you left?”
He shook his head as he swallowed. “No, by then we’d refurbished the house for the station manager and his family to live in. I figured they’d enjoy having them. Have you read many of your landlord’s books?”
“I did after I’d been here a while. I brought that hated reading machine with me knowing I had to make myself do the exercises if I planned to recoup my reading skills. I set it up on the mezzanine where all his books are shelved. One day when I was sick and tired of those monotonous exercise readings, I picked up a paperback on top of a stack that had not been shelved but haphazardly put by the table my machine sat on.”
Tres love the mischievous grin that played across her lips and the slight rise in color to her face. “From the way you look, it must have caught your interest.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Not ever having time for recreational reading, I found out I’d missed a genre, that, uh, turned out to be one that added a whole new dimension to my education.”
He raised an eyebrow. “For a PhD, that’s quite an admission. What was it?”
“It was a mystery romance novel that my travel writer landlord wrote under a pseudonym. Actually all the books in the stack were his. I didn’t read far before I knew why he’d used a pseudonym. Risqué is a mild word for some of the action. Anyway, my reading speed and reduction in regression spiraled. By the time I finished those books, I could ace every practice sheet on that miserable machine. I felt like I’d defeated an arch enemy.”