The Cattleman (Sons of Texas Book 2) (32 page)

An antique oak dresser stood against one wall. A bowl and pitcher
for washing sat on top of it. A cute little red woodstove perched on a hearth of stones in the corner, its stovepipe passing through the wall. Zochi leaned her backside against the dresser, reached up behind her neck and untied her top. Pic’s dick turned to stone.

Her
gaze leveled on his fly, then slid up to his eyes. Holding his gaze, she reached behind herself and untied the back of her top, pulled it off and tossed it on the bed, baring her torso.

Staring, Pic swallowed audibly. Her breasts were as beautiful as he had imagined. Round and plump as melons. More than a handful indeed, with large dark nipples that would be more than a mouthful. Then, before his eyes drank their fill, to his amazement, she unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts and peeled them and her panties past her hips. The
garments fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicked them aside and stood there barefoot and stark naked.

The only naked female Pic had seen in real life in more than two years was Mandy. And Mandy’s body looked almost nothing like Zochi McLaren’s.
Mandy’s body was lean and athletic. Zochi, with her large breasts, a tiny waist and fleshy hips, was the epitome of lush femininity.

His heart was pounding, his blood swishing in his ears. Like hungry wolves, his eyes roamed, slammed to a halt at Zochi’s groin, captured and held by her totally hairless pussy. He couldn’t stop staring. He had seen pictures of women who shaved or waxed themselves. Actresses in porno movies and the models in Playboy and Hustler had bare pussies, but he had never seen for real and only a few feet away, a woman’s privates devoid of hair.

The blood that had not already rushed to his dick made the final plunge. Something primal gripped him, an overwhelming urge to throw her down on the bed, spread her thighs and lick every inch of that smooth flesh. He wanted to explore with his eyes and tongue that dark cleft so blatantly exposed. He wanted to tongue-fuck her until she screamed. He wanted to bury his screaming cock in that intimate sanctum he knew would enshroud him with wet, warm, slick pleasure.

She stepped toward the bed and sat down on the edge, summoned him to follow her, but still so stunned he could barely move, he stood where he was in the doorway. “Jesus Christ, Zochi
—”

“What’s wrong?” she asked in that soft breathy voice that bespoke sex and erotic adventure. “Afraid you’ll like it? Afraid you won’t get enough of it? You don’t even have to take it. I’m giving it to you.”

He gave her his profile and stared at the door jamb. “Jesus Christ, Zochi,” he said again. “Put your clothes on.”

“Come here beside me,” she said softly. “I know you want to.”

That he wanted to wasn’t even a question and there was no hiding the bulge in the front of his pants. His animal desire and his loyalty to the woman he thought he loved warred within him. He fiercely shook his head.

“Oh, come on,” she said, her tone low and coaxing in that voice that was almost a whisper.

No more than a few feet separated them. Three steps and he would be there. “No. I can’t,” he choked out.

“You don’t have to fuck me. There are other ways we can make each other feel good. How will that do any harm? You wouldn’t be cheating.”

Oral sex
. In his mind, that was cheating. And it led to the ultimate thing. He shook his head again. “Zochi, no. It ain’t happening.”

His brain had almost ceased to function, his cock strained against his zipper
. He was in agony. He turned and stalked out of the breezeway, down the rock pathway. He fought the fuckin’ rusted gate until it opened and let him out. His balls were drawn up so tight in his belly he could barely walk. He staggered toward the back of the house and a huge oak tree. He wanted to yank his belt and fly loose and relieve his pain with his fist, but in his mind, even letting her drive him to jack himself off would be cheating.

He forced his mind to the picnic and the music and dancing and laughing and eating good food with his friends and family. He thought of Mandy’s big smile and her tinkling laugh. Eventually, his erection subsided, but he stayed in the shade of the oak tree for a long while, sweating and heaving for breath, gathering his wits.

Gradually, his equilibrium returned, but his composure in Zochi’s presence might never come back. He turned and looked behind himself to see if she had followed him.

He had sweated his T-shirt through. He would love to t
ear it off, but he didn’t dare. He walked to the Jeep, opened the rear door and pulled his bandana from his pocket. He poured ice-water from the water jug onto it and scrubbed his face and neck.

His thoughts traveled in a direction he had resisted going. Had his own mother teamed up with Zochi like she had done with Drake’s old girlfriend to cause trouble between him and Mandy? She had already proved she was capable of doing that. Pic didn’t want to believe it of his mother, forgodssake. But knowing what she had done to Drake and his wife and what she had already done to Mandy, as well as less damaging minor tricks over the years, he wouldn’t put it past her.

He forced his thoughts back to the here and now. Now what? In what state would he find Zochi when he went back to the house? He had to get her back to the guesthouse and stay away from her. He draped his wet bandana over the steering wheel and walked back to the house.

He found her in the living room. She was clothed, thank God, and sitting primly on the edge of the sofa cushion as if she hadn’t just given him a strip show. She looked up at him with solemn eyes. “If you aren’t engaged or married, what difference would it make if you fucked me? Like I said
to you yesterday, who would ever know?”

“I’d know,” he said. “And I couldn’t live with myself. As it is, I’m having a hard time even with…”—He ducked his chin because looking into her eyes made him feel even guiltier.—“…even being here like this. And seeing you without your clothes.”

“I can see that.” Her tone would freeze water. He wasn’t surprised. Had any man ever rejected her, especially after he saw her nude? She got to her feet. “This is getting boring. We should go.”

“Right,” he said. “Get your camera and get in the Jeep. I’m gonna lock up.”

They rode back to the guesthouse in total silence and in record time. He parked the Wrangler in front of the guesthouse, scooted out and helped her gather her things and carry them inside. As he started for the door, she said, “Pic?”

In spite of knowing better, he stopped.

“I’ve learned one thing since I’ve been here,” she said. “Nights out here in the wide-open spaces get really long and lonely. I could leave the front door unlocked.”

His mouth went dry again. He swallowed. “I’ve got to go, Zochi. You’re welcome to come to supper if you want to.”

****

Xochimilka stood at the window and watched Pic drive away, visualizing his body. Visions of naked men didn’t typically fill her head, but she couldn’t stop her imagination. He had a perfect body. She hadn’t enjoyed sex with most of the men she had slept with, but with him, she might like it. Some mysterious instinct told her he would make her feel good.

A feeling of desolation came over her, enveloped her, threatened to smother her. She had lived with it and battled it since adolescence.
She had never fit in and never known why. When she had been unable to develop friendships with girls, she had turned to boys. Then later, older boys. They had entirely different expectations than girls or boys her age and it hadn’t taken her long to learn to fit in with them.

As an adult, her longing for affection, for a place to belong, for a person to belong to,
had driven her to one-night-stands and lunchtime quickies. She had dropped to her knees for men she scarcely knew. Anything to be free of the pervasive loneliness, the
need
.

Her stomach suddenly cramped and she backed away from the
window, hurried to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. Before lifting it to her lips, she stopped and stared at it. Was it safe to drink? Or was it saturated with chemicals from fracking?

The cramp grew worse. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed half the
liquid in the glass.

****

Pic entered the house through the back door, still trying to come to gri
ps with what had just happened.

Johnnie Sue came from the kitchen and he handed her the thermos of water. “Where’s the lunch box?” she asked.

Shit.
When he and Zochi arrived back at the guesthouse, he had been so shaken he had carried the full lunch box into the guesthouse along with her camera bag. “Uh, I forgot and carried it into the guesthouse. I’ll get it tomorrow.” He headed for his bedroom.

He showered, then took a few extra minutes in his room, chilling out. He had to erase the image of Zochi’s naked body from his mind, but it wasn’t easy. He did love the sight of a beautiful woman
with no clothes on, even a dangerous one.

Finally, he put in an appearance at supper with his Dad and Johnnie Sue.

“Zoshi coming over for supper?” Dad asked.

Pic doubted she would show up, hoped she wouldn’t. If she didn’t, he guessed she could eat the two thick chicken salad sandwiches in the lunch box and the chocolate cake. At least she wouldn’t go hungry. “I don’t know,” he answered.

“How’d the picture-taking go?”

“Hotter than hell and not worth a damn. Dad, this is a waste of my time. I’m
finished with it. I mean it. I’ve got things I need to get done around here.”

His dad only nodded. But at least he finally got the message. “How’d things look at the old homeplace?”

“Like always. It was full of dust and sand. The rat poison needs to be replenished. The yard needs work. There’s rust showing on the fence and on the gate’s lock. Hogs have been there, but they couldn’t get past the fence.”

“Fuckin’ varmints,” Dad growled.

“I can get the cleaning girls down there when they come out after the Fourth,” Johnnie Sue said.

“Do that,” Dad said. “
You never know when Betty will want to go down there. I’ll get Smoky to send a couple of the hands with them so they can fix what needs it. I’ll send the yard man with them, too. Betty wants the outside kept up.”

Pic gave an indiscernible shake of his head.
He would never understand the relationship between his parents. Did Dad honestly believe Mom would ever go to the old homeplace again?

His dad saw a long list of women, but he was lonely for Mom. Pic’s most vivid memory of his mother
when she had lived here was her screaming tantrums directed at his dad. Yet, Dad’s whole demeanor brightened when she was expected to come by, even if for only a short visit and even if they ended up in a damn brawl. And it had been that way ever since she left. Was Dad going to his grave waiting for Mom to get off her high horse and return to the ranch for good?

So if he cared that much, why had he cheated on her? Was co-dependency a part of any marriage? Was it a constant battle without regard to the casualties? If so, why did anyone
ever take those vows?

Chapter 20

Amanda stood on her front porch saying good-bye to her old college friend, Eric Frazier. She and Eric had gone through Texas Tech together, but been only casual friends. She was surprised he remembered her. He was now the assistant athletic director at Odessa High School, a school many times the size of Drinkwell. And that was the capacity in which he had visited her.

Who knew a big school like Odessa High had noticed her success with the Drinkwell swim team? And they wanted her.
Eric
wanted her. He had flown from Odessa to Dallas and driven all the way to Drinkwell in a tiny rental car to tell her so.

He didn’t even have her resumé, but he remembered her from their college days and had a thick portfolio of newspaper articles, speeches, interviews, even some comments she had made on blogs discussing her coaching philosophy and innovative approach to teaching teenagers how to compete. She knew she was good, but she didn’t know she was
that
good.

His visit had rocketed her mood to somewhere in the stratosphere. Sometime within the next week, an offer would be on the table to coach the Odessa High School’s girls’ swim team. It went without saying that there would be a substantial pay increase above what she made now.

And Amanda was free to go. Her contract with the Drinkwell school system had expired last year. But in typical loosey-goosey Drinkwell fashion, the school system hadn’t addressed it. When asked, the superintendent said it was being processed. The consensus was that the contract would be renewed and life would go on as usual. Largely because of her relationship with Pic. No part of her life was unaffected either directly or indirectly by her connection to the Lockhart family.

What a difference a day makes
, Amanda mused. Who knew better than she how life could make a 180-degree change in a minute? Like back in high school, not hearing from Pic for weeks, then learning through school gossip that he had married a college rodeo champion that she, Amanda, had never heard of.