Shades of Grey (3 page)

“You know, it’s rude to sneak up on people,” she accused, turning her back to him.

Instead of taking the hint and moving away to give her some space, he drew nearer. His hands came to rest on the counter to either side of her, trapping her. Why did she like being closed in by his arms and body tonight, when if he’d done this another day she’d have given him hell? Sarah shut her eyes to try to control the pounding pulse in her neck and heart. When that didn’t work, she opened them.

Her breath coming in shallow pants, she reached for the tea caddy.

“Do you have one sugar or two?” she asked, trying to pull away from his invading presence.

Was he sniffing her hair?

Sarah put the pot that held the teabags back on the counter with a slam, spun around and pushed at his chest. Travis didn’t move an inch, but she gave him another shove and he backed up a step.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, folding her arms under her breasts. The act reminded her how simply dressed she was in her nightie. Her nipples puckered, grazing the cotton fabric. Surely they were responding to the cool night air and not this alarming man standing in front of her—a man who had never alarmed her before tonight. But then he’d never been half naked in her kitchen before, either.

“I’m sorry, Sarah…” He stopped suddenly and looked all around them.

Sarah frowned at his peculiar behaviour.

“I’ll be back,” he said.

Oh, no.

“I don’t think so. Sit down and have some tea,” she ordered, pointing a finger at the seat he’d just vacated.

The kettle finished boiling and she placed a teabag in each cup. “Do you take sugar?” she asked.

“What?”

With a sigh of frustration, Sarah asked the question again.

“Two, please.”

A few minutes later, she returned to the table with the steaming cups of tea. Travis glanced at them and then looked about again. He seemed on edge.

A wave of thunder echoed round the house.

“They did say it was going to storm. Are you afraid of storms, Travis? Is that why you’re behaving strangely?”

He turned his attention back to her, and once again Sarah was struck by his deep, sea-blue eyes. How many times had he looked at her with those piercing blues, which seemed to see inside her down to the very depths of her soul?

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Travis said.

Her body responded, her nipples hardening to tight points at his blatant display of masculinity. She took a sip of her tea, trying to bring some normality back to her thoughts. Why, out of all the men available, was it Travis, the latest guy to start working for her, who had her so intrigued?

Sarah hadn’t always been known for her sensible actions—she’d had to learn to be the way she was. To fight her own battles and always come out the victor no matter what the odds. After all, she was alone on this huge ranch in the middle of nowhere where God knew what could happen and no one would get to her in time.

She could look after herself and didn’t need anybody—especially a man—telling her how to live her life. An invasion of wonderful memories of her father came to mind, and she released a sigh in protest then took another sip of tea. When alive, Daddy wouldn’t have allowed anything or anyone to hurt her, no matter what. Even when she’d gone into town, people had treated her with respect. Now, though, it seemed most single men were seeing her as an easy target—a woman who needed a man to run this ranch. Including that disgusting Clark James. That man gave her the creeps with his sneering mouth and perving hands. After only a few minutes in his company, she wanted to run home and take a long, steaming bath to rub his very essence away. In recent weeks he’d become way too familiar. The occasional brush of his body as he passed her in the hallway, even when there was plenty of room. A hand that seemed to have a mind of its own, twirling some of her long black hair.

It was at times like these, being shown a lack of respect from some men, that Sarah really missed her father—the one man who’d shown her the respect she deserved.

He’d been the only man she could stomach for large periods of time—until she’d met Travis.

She glanced up into the eyes of Travis Williams, the man who’d entered her life a year ago and had invaded most of her waking thoughts. He was so different from every other man. He opened doors for her, and argued back at her as if she were an equal. He thought she didn’t know when he got hard, thoughtfully removing his Stetson to hide the tightness in his pants. Sarah was a woman, after all, and knew all about desire and lust, even if she’d never been fucked.

Travis placed a hand over hers and gazed into her eyes, the kind of stare where she was sure he could see deep into her soul.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“Huh?” She hadn’t been anywhere.

Lightning streaked and thunder followed, the only noise breaking the silence of the room. They stayed perfectly still for several moments before Travis began talking, rewording the same question.

“You seemed to be elsewhere just a second ago. Wondered where you went.”

She shook her head against the fogginess consuming her. She must need an early night. All the hard work of the past few weeks was finally catching up with her.

“I was just thinking about my dad and how it was different around here when he was alive and in charge,” she revealed, feeling tears well.

She dropped her head and closed her eyes against the wave of emotion. Her father had always told her crying about something wouldn’t solve the problem—it would still be there after the waterworks were finished.

Daddy would still be dead and she didn’t have the energy to keep crying over him.

“He sounded like a good man from what I’ve heard from the folk who knew him,” Travis said.

“He really was, strong and powerful. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do and he had the respect of everyone.” She ran a hand through her hair and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in her muscles from sitting absorbed in her most recent crime novel. Memories of her father always hurt. “It’s getting late. Do you want the spare room or would you like me to drive you back over the field to your place?” She really didn’t want to go out in this storm any more than she wanted him in her house, but she would rather have him here than drive late at night.

“I’ll take the spare room if that’s all right with you.” He drained his cup then handed it to her.

“Suits me, but I’d better go and get you some clothes. It’ll have to be some of my dad’s old clothing, as I’m sure you won’t want to wear or even try to fit into mine,” she joked.

He chuckled and stood as she did.

The gentleman every time.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.” Sarah left him, moving out of the kitchen and upstairs to the end of the landing. With a deep breath, she opened the door to the main bedroom and was assailed by the smell of a room that had lain dormant and unused.

The furniture was still in the same place and the curtains drawn. After the burial she hadn’t been able to bear going through his belongings. It had seemed almost like an invasion of his privacy. She went to the wardrobe in the corner, opening the old wooden door handle. He’d made the wardrobe from scratch, treating the wood and carving it all himself as a wedding gift to her mother. Sarah wondered how long it had been since she’d been in here—she half expected moths or something to come flying out at her.

Nothing. There was just dust, a few layers of it. She’d have to come and clean the mess in the next week. Her father had been a large man, and she knew Travis would fit into his clothes. Travis was a bit taller than her daddy—it would be comical to see his ankles peeking from under the jeans. She took out a shirt and a pair of jeans, closed the door and took one last, lingering look at her dad’s room before closing the door.

Mission accomplished, no tears.

Sarah made her way back to the kitchen, shocked to see Travis still in the same place she’d left him.

“You can sit down,” she teased, handing him the clothes. “These should fit, but I figure, if you haven’t died on me by the morning, I’ll drive you over to your place before work starts.” She reached out, touching his forehead. “Are you sure you’re not getting infected?” she asked, her hand burning from the simple touch. His temperature was high.

Travis took her hand in his and smiled. “I’ve always had a high temperature, part of the family gene pool.”

Sarah couldn’t stop the frown forming against his explanation—she wasn’t sure anyone could have a temperature that high and still be considered normal. “How does your foot feel?” She may have joked about him dying on her, but she wouldn’t like to deal with a dead employee…and, in truth, she wouldn’t like to see Travis hurt at all.

“Stop worrying. I’ve told you I’m fine.” He stroked his thumb along her inner palm. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What do you think of Clark James?”

The name alone had her cringing.

“Is that my answer?” he asked, laughing when she pulled the face. 

“Let’s just say me and Clark James don’t dwell all that well. Why do you want to know?” Sarah pulled her hand away from his heat. He was hot all over.

“I just heard something in town about him being…interested in you.”

“I don’t like him and let’s leave it at that. It’s getting late and I want to get some sleep before I have to deal with work tomorrow.” She moved to the back door and checked the lock, surprised to see her hand shaking. Fucking Clark James. The man was a creep, and she’d heard the rumours all too well. How he was going to visit her and take what he wanted. Did the jerk really think someone wouldn’t tell her about his intended abuse? One good thing that had come from her father’s legacy was that some people still remained loyal and kept her up to speed about the goings-on in town. As soon as she’d heard that little detail along with a load of other shit, she’d gone and purchased all the guns that were safely within reach in every room.

Sarah French was not a stupid woman, and if Clark James came sniffing around, she would be putting a hole through a part of him—and it wouldn’t be anywhere near his foot. Any man—except the man she wanted—would be on the end of one of her handguns.

Fucking losers, all of them.

She flicked the lock then went round to all the windows in the room, making sure they were locked as well. Nothing like protection. If Clark tried to get in, she’d make sure she was on high alert before he even made it into the house.

She wouldn’t lie. She liked having Travis with her. She somehow knew Travis would protect her against the other man—even though he was a complete stranger in many ways and she didn’t know why she felt the way she did.

Sarah was independent and refused to rely on a man, but she wasn’t a fool. For as much as she was prepared and could handle herself, there was no arguing the fact that Clark James was still stronger than her and would be able to overpower her easily. When she gave herself to a man, it would be her decision and no one else would make that decision for her.

Whom she slept with was the final control she had over her life, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Turning the light out, she had Travis follow her as she checked every remaining window and door on the way up. She opened the spare bedroom, which she always kept made up. Her dad had always kept a spare room, and it would seem it was something he’d passed on to her. Not that Sarah had expected any late-night visitors. No one but a few really close friends ever visited her on the ranch.

“I know it’s small but it’s comfortable. I’m just across the hall, so give me a shout if you feel like death is calling,” she told him, checking the windows and looking out at the dark, stormy night. A chill went through her. She massaged her shoulder. Was the storm a sign of terrible things to come?

Her daddy had always said a storm was a sign of change. The last time there had been a storm this bad, her daddy had been admitted into the hospital and he’d come out in a box. This ferocious storm, what did it mean?

Sarah cursed her own wayward imagination and the stories she’d read over the years and smiled, wishing Travis a good night before shutting his door and going to her own room.

She took some time to tidy a little, then went to the window to check the lock. Her breath caught in her throat. She was sure she saw something moving below. She leaned against the pane and looked at the same spot. Was that a wolf? A flash of lightning and the form was gone. Blinking and rubbing her eyes, Sarah closed the curtain and climbed into bed before turning out the light.

She lay staring into the darkness, bringing the blanket more firmly around her. Sleep evaded her for a little while, and it allowed her mind to wander to the man across the hall. Not able to get comfortable she turned over to face the curtain on the other side of the room and watched the lightning, listening to the thunder that followed. Thunder and lightning was a partnership. You couldn’t have one without the other. One day she wanted a partnership, to be able to rely on someone the way lightning relied on thunder.

She was way too tired, thinking about relationships with regards to the weather. Sarah rolled over away from the curtain-covered window and gazed at the door. She stared straight ahead, and her thoughts returned to the nude man who’d appeared on her doorstep this evening naked as the day he was born. The quick glimpse she’d got of his cock told her more than his tight jeans how long and thick he was. She allowed herself to wonder what he would feel like pushing his large shaft between her legs. Sarah tried to muffle the sound of her moan in the pillow, closing her eyes as a wave of sexual heat invaded her body. Her pussy grew wet from the image of his cock filling her in the most primal way. He’d be rough and hard. His arms said it all—big and powerful.

With a hand pressed against her damp mound, she closed her eyes, bringing the fantasy to light. In this, the privacy of her own room, she could embrace her wicked thoughts. She moved her hand past her panties, slipped a finger into her wet heat, and stroked her clit as she thought of Travis and his thick cock. She imagined he would take her to the floor to have his way with her, settling between her legs and, without any preliminaries, thrusting all the way into her. She let another moan escape into the pillow then gasped. With a few strokes along her bud she quietly cried out her climax, the sound muffled only slightly by the pillow.