Authors: Debra Kayn
He
leaned his hip against the end of the railing, raised his arms, and tilted his
face to the sky. Cool splashes of water dotted his body, and rolled down him.
He breathed deeply, letting his body rejuvenate. His worries ran with the
droplets down his torso.
Soon,
his hair was soaked and sticking to his back. His shorts glued to his body, and
he wished he could strip and accept the gift from the sky with nothing between
him and the elements.
"Trace!"
Joan called.
He
remained standing and smiled. Maybe he was right, and Joan was a
heyoka
.
Not
wanting to go inside, he ignored her. The storm too seductive to waste.
"Are
you crazy? You're getting your cast soaked. Get up here out of the rain
and—" She screamed as a bolt of lightning shot across the sky.
"You're gonna get yourself killed!"
He
lowered his arms. "Come out and join me."
"Why
would I want to do a stupid thing like that?" she said.
"Scared?"
He gazed over his shoulder. "Live a little,
heyoka
."
She
narrowed her eyes. "N-no."
"Come
here." He raised his brows in challenge.
She
shook her head. "You're crazy."
"Yeah,
probably." He shifted his position, so he could face her. "Come
here…for me. You've forced me to take medicine, do my exercises, and I've put
up with all your coddling. It's your turn to do something for me."
"Lightning
will strike me and what are you going to do when I'm dead?" She glanced
off into the clouds.
"Mother
sky wouldn't dare harm one single red hair on your head." He held out his
hand. "It feels good out here. You'll see."
She
unfolded her arms, rolled her head on her shoulders in indecision, and finally
held out her hand. "If I die, it's going to be your fault."
"Sh…"
He pulled her down the steps, until she was standing out in the rain beside
him. "Nobody's going to die."
She
lifted her shoulders and scrunched her face up against the pelting rain. He
lifted her arms out to the sides.
"Close
your eyes and tilt your face up to the sky," he said over the pounding
rain.
Ten
seconds later, her shoulders eased, and she smiled. He couldn't help staring.
Release was sweet, and she was a beautiful woman.
Her
hair fell down her back, exposing her slim, pale neck. He stared hypnotically
as water pooled in the V of her neck and ran down her chest to disappear in the
valley between her breasts beneath her T-shirt. To torment him further, she
gasped.
"This
feels –she moaned–so good."
"Told
you."
She
lowered her chin and smiled up at Trace. "Crazy, but wonderful."
"You're
wonderful." He trailed his finger down the wet tendril running down the
side of her cheek and catching on her lower lip.
Her
wet, pink tongue came out and skimmed the tip of his finger. His body reacted
violently from the soft caress, and he captured her face with both of her
hands. He strummed her lips with his thumb and pulled her against him.
She
stared up into his eyes.
"Joan…?"
"Please…"
Her soft plea filled him, stroking his heart.
He
lowered his head, an inch from her mouth and hovered there, inhaling her sweet
scent. She closed her eyes and rose up on her tiptoes. He gently nudged her
mouth with his.
"Hey.
Get in here." Brody bellowed from the door.
Trace
dropped his arms, panting. Joan reached up, touched her lips, and seemed to
question him with her stare. He turned away.
His
fantasy ruined. He'd never share Joan with anyone, but she wasn't his to keep.
"I'm
heading out to check the east pasture when the lightning stops. You both better
get inside." Brody jumped off the porch. "I'll grab the cell phone in
the stables in case I need help."
Trace
nodded and dragged his wet hair behind his shoulders. "Check on
Thunderbolt too."
"Hell,
he probably lives for storms. He's aptly named." Brody ducked his head and
ran off toward the barn.
Joan
had taken his distraction with Brody to escape back into the house. He sighed.
He
hopped up the steps, grabbed his crutches, and trailed a wet path to his wing
of the house.
What the hell am I doing?
***
After
changing out of her wet clothes, Joan stood outside Trace's bedroom door. She
knocked, but he didn't answer.
She
rapped on the wood again. "Trace?"
He
swung the door open with a towel draped over his shoulders. "Yeah?"
Joan
held up a hair dryer. "We need to get your cast dry, or it'll cause all
sorts of problems."
Stepping
back, he let her inside. She gazed behind him. It was the first time she'd
sought him out in his private bedroom.
Unlike
the rest of the house, and even his sitting room in his wing, the bedroom
screamed lonely. With only a bed and plain dresser, the starkness took her by
surprise. There were no knickknacks scattered about or any signs that he slept
and spent a good amount of his time in here.
The
walls were white, with no pictures hanging on them. Even the bed was dressed
with a bland, gray cover. Without anywhere for him to sit, she motioned toward
the mattress.
"Go
ahead and get comfy. I'll see if I can find an electrical outlet close enough
to reach you." She stepped around him and spied one by the foot of the
bed.
Joan
kneeled at his feet. "There's usually a lot of cotton padding around the
edges of a cast, so I'm hoping you didn't create too much damage. If you're
lucky, the rain didn't make it down to where the doctor operated and the skin
is still tender."
"It's
fine." He leaned back on his arms and stuck his leg over the side of the
bed.
Setting
the hair dryer on cool, she gently directed the stream of air down his cast.
The steady hum filled the uncomfortable silence stretching between them. She'd
tried to ignore the way they drew toward one another when they were alone, but
she couldn't stop. Every little activity they did together made it inevitable
that they'd touch.
He
would have kissed her out there in the rain, and she wouldn't have stopped him.
Knowing she had no control around him was both thrilling and scary. She no
longer believed he would fire her for acting on her feelings, but she couldn't
keep working this way. After she finished drying his cast, they were going to
talk.
Twenty
minutes later, she unplugged the dryer. Trace grabbed his crutches, but she
placed her hand on his knee stopping him.
"Can
you wait a minute?" She sat down on the bed beside him.
"It's
all dry. No harm done." He patted his leg. "See?"
"That's
not what I need to talk to you about." She shifted to the side and faced
him. "We need to talk about what's going on between us. You were about to
kiss me again out there, and—"
"I'm
a man." He shrugged. "I apologize."
"That's
a shitty excuse." She shook her head. "Don't give me that tough act.
I know you better than that. You'd no sooner let your emotions get the better
of you than I would ignore someone bleeding at the side of the road."
He
stared for the longest moment, and finally huffed in agreement.
"The
other day you said it was just a kiss, and I went on to believe you. Today, you
wanted to kiss me. I could see it in your face."
"So?"
"So…what's
going through your head? Is this a way to entertain yourself while you
recuperate or what?" She glanced away. "I don't want to be part of
any game."
"I'm
not playing you," he muttered.
"Then
what's going on?" She turned back to him, and placed her hand on his leg. "I
liked it when you kissed me. I thought I made that clear."
He
nodded. "You did."
"Then
is it so wrong to talk about what happened? If you want to kiss me, just do it.
If you don't, tell me to stop thinking about it."
"I'm
not interested in a relationship." He rubbed the spot above his heart.
"Not with you or anyone else."
She
stiffened. "Ever?"
"It
was my fault this much has happened. I didn't mean to confuse you." He
stood his crutches up and pulled himself off the bed. "I apologize."
She
frowned.
He
stood up and hobbled to the door, opened it, and waited for her to leave.
"It won't happen again, Joan."
Chapter Sixteen
The
Sun Dance was a big enough celebration at the reservation, Trace made sure he
would be well rested and strong enough to go. His leg was healing as expected,
per the doctor visit yesterday, and he'd received the okay to put weight on the
new walking cast he'd have to wear for the last week. It'd bolstered his spirit
to hear in seven days, the contraption would come off, and the real work would
start.
It
was fitting that the Sun Dance came at the same time he celebrated the next
stage in his recovery. Difficulties would still challenge him, but he'd been
down this road before.
He
wasn't afraid of the pain and discomfort that would come after the cast came
off. Staying inside the house, and away from the horses, left him antsy and he
was looking forward to a more regular routine. He wanted to feel whole again,
and get back to his life.
Besides,
the sooner Joan finished the job, the better.
She'd
upset his routine, left him questioning his purpose, and putting ideas in his
head that had no place being there. After their first kiss, he'd kept his
distance. He played it safe. Then little by little, she'd become more than a
temptress making his life both heaven and hell. She'd become someone special to
him.
He
found himself unable to stay away from her, taking more and more.
There
were all kinds of women on the reservation and nearby in Durham who wanted a
one-night stand and a good time. After Joan left, he'd scratch his itch, and be
out the door before the woman could put any demands on him. Women like Joan
were different. He could never ruin her life by getting involved with her
romantically.
She
deserved roses and wine, picket fences, and husbands who never doubted their
ability to love. He hooked the Velcro on the bottom of his jeans. Joan had
surprised him last night with a pair of his newer jeans, tailored for his new
cast. Damned if it didn't feel good to be back in regular clothes, and if he
didn't look too closely, he could almost forget he had a cast on his lower leg.
The
ends of his hair were still damp, but he slipped his black shirt on anyway.
Rolling the sleeves to his elbows, he checked himself in the mirror only fast
enough to make sure he looked okay, and then strolled through his wing of the
house and out to the main living room. He nodded at the others upon entering
the room.
It
appeared he was the last one ready to go.
Brody
had gone separately with Joan, so she could stop at her apartment and change
into one of her dresses. Trace had kept his mouth shut about the whole deal. He
didn't want her going to the dance, and he certainly didn't want Brody taking
her back to her apartment alone.
He'd
done some prying into Joan's life, and found out she lived above the rundown
bakery they'd stopped at in Durham. Knowing she lived in the poorer part of
town, alone, didn't set well with him.
After
making his way outside, he climbed into the crew cab. The yearly celebration of
his people should have filled him with hope and pride. Instead, nerves and
shame consumed him. He tried to tell himself he went for the children, and not
because of his respect for his people that'd been beat into him by his father.
He'd
escaped.
Hopefully,
the kids who were in the same downward spiral he'd lived through would learn
that there was hope through him. For tonight, he'd show them what appeared to
be the ideal life. No one would see what was going on inside his head.
Twenty
minutes later, Devon pulled into the main entrance behind a matching truck with
Lakota Ranch stenciled on the tailgate. "Looks like we caught up with
Brody and Joan."
He
peered out the window. He had a bad feeling she'd regret coming with them
tonight. This wasn't her life, and she'd never understand the reasons behind
the celebration.
"Trace,
what do you know about Joan's living situation?" Devon asked.
He
shrugged. "She lives in an apartment in the old business loop of town,
above a bakery."
"I
wonder why she's not married, or at least have a serious boyfriend. She's a
beautiful woman. It seems strange that no one has snapped her up. Not that
there's anything wrong with the single life, but she's hot." Devon shook
his head. "We better make sure she stays with one of us through the
evening. I wouldn't want her to wander off. It was hard enough convincing the
counsel to let us bring a visitor, we don't want any problems. They are getting
stricter on keeping the public away from any celebration or powwow."