Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3) (11 page)

Cat’s
eyes flare wide in a
holy
shit
type
of way. “Seven
years is a long time. Which begs the question… how old are
you?”

“Twenty-eight,”
I tell her before taking another big bite of the meatloaf. It really
is pretty good. “And you?”

“Twenty-four.
I was twenty-one when I married Samuel.”

“And you’ve
got the best of your life still to come,” I tell her.

Cat gives me a faint
smile, pushing some macaroni around on her plate before asking, “Why
did you two break up? That’s a long time to be with someone.”

“Well, if you
ask Tarryn the reasons, she’ll say it’s all my fault,”
I tell her with a wry grin.

Cat’s
eyes go round and she dips her chin in mock astonishment. With an
exaggerated gasp, she teases, “What? No way. Rand Bishop has
faults?”

I laugh because
she’s
cute as all get out. Now that I think about it, I never saw Cat smile
very much at The Silo. Damn sure never saw her make a joke, but she’s
a fucking natural.

“I’m not
without faults,” I tell her, pushing my empty plate away. I
contemplate a second helping, but she’s touching on a fairly
serious subject even if it’s with some levity. Because even
though Tarryn is the one that cheated on me, and it was ultimately
the demise of our relationship, I did help drive her there. That’s
a tough pill to swallow sometimes.

“Everyone has
faults,” Cat says simply. “It’s called being
human.”

“Well, to make
a long story short, since I’d really rather take you back in
the bedroom, I’ve got a white-knight syndrome. Or, at least
that’s the definition my best friend, Jake, has labeled me
with.”

“A
white-knight syndrome?” she asks skeptically with a cocked
eyebrow.

“I’m the
type who likes to rescue the damsel in distress. Or so Jake seems to
think.”

“But you don’t
think that?”

I shrug. “Tarryn
has her fair share of issues. She didn’t have an easy life
growing up, but her natural talent on the slopes got her a full ride
to Carrabassett Valley, which is how we met. I saw her skiing as a
way for her to have a different life, so I tried to help push her
along.”

“Encouragement
is good,” Cat points out.

“Yeah…
it wasn’t just encouragement. I mean, I really pushed at her.
Pushed her to train, lead a clean lifestyle, and work harder than she
ever has in her life. Because that’s what I did to be at the
top of the game, and I wanted the same for her. It was her ticket out
of a mediocre life. It takes hardcore training to compete at the
Olympic level. Tarryn’s a great skier, but she’s not a
great athlete. I wanted her to follow me in my path, and really…
she just wanted to be a regular girl. She didn’t want the gold
medals the way I did, and I just couldn’t understand it.”

Cat’s
face softens with understanding. “You wanted it bad for her,
but she didn’t want it for herself.”

“Exactly,”
I say pointing a finger in her direction. “The last few years
weren’t great before we broke up. I was traveling, and she was
living here doing some ski instruction. She started seeing someone
else, and when I found out about it, I wasn’t all that broken
up. I think it all just sort of withered up and died from neglect,
but I recognize my part in that for sure. I pushed her so hard that
she became bitter. On top of that, I was traveling a lot for
competitions, and we were apart most of the time because she wasn’t
skiing at my level. So, the way she looks at it is that I pushed her
right at someone else.”

“That doesn’t
excuse cheating,” Cat says hotly. “If she didn’t
respect the relationship, she should have ended it.”

Again, I shrug.
She’s
not telling me anything I haven’t thought about more than a
time or two since we broke up almost four years ago. “I agree.
But I’ve let it go. And I learned from it.”

“That you
shouldn’t rescue damsels in distress,” Cat says, and I
can tell by the pointed look on her face she’s talking about
herself.

“No, that’s
not what I learned,” I tell her with a censuring look. “A
good man always helps a woman if she needs it. But I learned that
sometimes my definition of who needs help is different from others.
In Tarryn’s case, she didn’t need what I was pushing on
her, and since I can practically see that beautiful brain of yours
trying to work out how this means I view you, let me assure you, two
nights ago, you needed rescuing. You needed a hand up, so I gave it
to you. That’s all it was, Cat. Plain and simple.”

“So none of
your attraction to me has to do with the fact that you see me as lost
and needing rescued?”

“I was
attracted to you long before I found you sleeping in your car, Cat.
Hell, I’ve even fantasized about you when I was getting my dick
sucked by another girl.” I lean forward and put my forearms on
the table, staring at her hard so she understands what I’m
saying. “But I’m not going to lie either. I couldn’t
stand to see you hurt and alone. If that’s my white-knight
complex, so fucking be it. It brought me into your life on a deeper
level. But most assuredly, the reason I was jacking off in the shower
to you, and the reason I think I’ll be fucking you repetitively
tonight, is that I find you fascinating and attractive on more than
just a physical level. If it was just physical, I’d be at The
Silo right now instead of my mouth watering to get back on your pussy
again.”

Cat sort of rears
backward in her chair and blinks at me in confusion. “You
find me fascinating?”

“You’re
smart, tough as nails, and resilient. You have a wicked sense of
humor, although I’d like to see more of it. You cook a pretty
damn good meatloaf and survived an intolerable situation with plenty
of grace intact. Oh, and you give the best blow job I’ve ever
had in my life.”

She giggles over
that last part, which is exactly what I was hoping for. It wasn’t
a lie about it being the best blow job ever, but I knew it would
lighten the seriousness of what I was saying.

“Look, Cat,”
I say, causing her giggles to dry up, but she looks at me through
smiling eyes. “I like you. I think you like me. I think we sure
as hell like fucking each other. You’ve got a place to stay
until you get on your feet, so the pressure is off. Let’s enjoy
this and see where it goes, okay? I could totally be on board with us
going at it with each other every night.”

“Are you
saying you want to be exclusive?” she asks hesitantly, the
smile dying instantly and her lips flattening out.

Well fuck…
maybe I was reading her wrong. Maybe she can’t give up the gang
bang or something.

“Well, if
that’s not something you’re interested in—”

“Okay, let’s
do it,” she blurts out.

“Be
exclusive?” I ask, just so I make sure we’re on the same
page. I know what it’s like to be on the very opposite page
from where you think someone is.

“Yes,”
is all she says.

“What about
The Silo?” I cautiously ask.

“That was
never really my thing,” she says sadly, and it makes my heart
squeeze in pain that her asshole husband made her do that. “I
only went back after he died because it was at least something I
knew, and I didn’t feel so alone there.”

“Then it’s
agreed… we take a break from The Silo,” I reassure her.
Of course, I’d have to get with Bridger and explain to him that
I was taking a hiatus. I’m only a part-time Fantasy Maker
there, so I won’t even be missed. Plus, I know he won’t
begrudge me this.

Whatever this is,
but I’m
rolling with it.

Cat stands up from
the table and picks up both plates. I stand as well, quickly taking
them from her hands. “You
cooked so I clean.”

“Not going to
argue there,” she says smugly and sits back down.

I intend on making
quick work of the kitchen because now that I’ve
disclosed my baggage with Tarryn—which admittedly pales in
comparison to hers with her dead husband—I really, really want
to get back to the business of sex with this gorgeous creature.

“Why does she
call you now?” Cat asks, and it takes me a moment to realize
she’s shifted back to Tarryn.

I don’t
bother to turn to look at her, working at filling the sink with soapy
water. “I have no clue, but it’s been a pattern since we
broke up. She’ll get involved with someone, and then I won’t
hear from her. Sometimes for months. When she’s single again,
she calls me. Or sometimes, she shows up on my doorstep to talk, or
she’ll ask me for a favor that is seemingly innocuous, but she
tends to think if I help her out, I’ll want to get back
together with her.”

“Maybe it’s
because you’re not competing anymore, so now she thinks you’re
more ideally suited at this point in your lives,” Cat points
out.

I scrape the tiny
bit of food left on Cat’s
plate in the garbage and stick both plates in the suds before turning
my attention to packaging up the leftovers. “Just because I’m
not competing anymore doesn’t change who I am. She’s
still the same person who gave up because things got too hard, and I
just can’t respect that. What that really tells me is that no
matter how hard I might have pushed her away, she wasn’t the
right one for me anyway.”

“It’s
fascinating to me that you’ve had this whole other life outside
The Silo,” she says almost in awe. “You just never think
about the people you come in contact with there outside of that
building.”

“The Silo is
about fantasy, not reality. It’s easy to leave your real life
at the door.”

“Except that
was my real life, inside The Silo. There was no fantasy for me,”
she says, and my gut clenches hard.

I grab a towel, give
my hands a quick dry, and turn to Cat. “That’s
over with,” I tell her softly. “The day Samuel died is
the day your real life started.”

I watch her
carefully. The way her brown eyes look at me blankly a moment, as if
the words bounce off, and then a small flare of hope sparks as she
swallows hard. Finally, a small nod of her head while she murmurs in
agreement with me, “Yes…
my real life has just started.”

Good.

She understands.

Now I wonder what
she’s
going to make of it.

Cat

“All right,”
Rand says as he turns the ignition of his Suburban off and unlatches
his seatbelt. He turns to look at me in the passenger seat beside
him. “I’m going to go hang out with my buddy, Jake, while
you do your thing. Just come find me there when you’re done.”

“It could be a
while,” I remind him as I also take my seatbelt off.

He just gives me an
amused smile before his left hand shoots out to grab me behind the
neck. Pulling me across the expanse of the front cab, he presses a
hard, swift kiss to my mouth before letting me go. I actually go
dizzy from the unexpected move, but mostly from the display of
affection he just laid upon me. I have to restrain my fingers from
touching my lips, hoping to savor the tingling he left behind.

“It’s
Teton Ski and Snowboarding,” Rand says as he releases me, and
then points over my shoulder. “Two blocks down East Broadway.
And take your time. I’ve got nothing else going on today.”

“Okay,”
I murmur as I grab my large satchel purse from the floorboard. In
addition to my wallet, lip gloss, my sunglasses case, and a handful
of pens, it also now carries a copy of a resume Rand helped me type
up this morning. It’s pathetic and small, and we couldn’t
put all of my “work” experience on there, but I did do
some waitressing in addition to dancing, and I served on the board of
a charity in Vegas that Samuel asked me to do. I’m hoping my
youth and eagerness to learn will make up for my pathetic work
history.

One of my goals
today
is to
walk the town square and see if anyone is hiring.

When Rand asked me
last night just before we fell asleep what my plans were today, I
told him I intended to find a job. He offered to drive me to the town
center as he was taking his ski equipment into his buddy’s
shop for a tune-up with ski season fast approaching, or at least
that’s what he said was the reason. I suspect he just wanted to
offer gallant services to me, and it warmed me so much that he wanted
to do that, I graciously accepted. I hope to cover most of the
businesses surrounding the town square with my resume. Maybe
something will come through.

Before I committed
to staying in Jackson, there was a moment last night when I thought
about just heading back to Vegas, even though I didn’t
have any money to get there. I knew I could get a job stripping
pretty quickly. I’d have immediate cash by which to live, so it
was a decent option if I could just make my way back home.

But then I took
serious stock of where I was in that moment and realized I didn’t
want to go to Vegas. I wanted to stay right there, in that bed with
Rand, with his arms wrapped tight around me and his beard tickling my
neck. I wasn’t ready to give up the security he was temporarily
providing me, nor these new and delicious feelings blooming inside my
chest whenever he looks at me. It was my very own Christmas every
time he touched me or smiled at me. I was soaking it up like a greedy
sponge.

We both exit his
Suburban, me taking a bit longer as I carefully use the running board
to step down in my Fendi heels. I look at the shoes that cost $750,
wishing I had that cash in my pocket rather than the designer label
on my feet. Hopefully, that won’t be an issue
by the time I meet Rand over at the ski shop after I finish all my
errands.

“Good luck,”
he says with a smile at me over the hood of his vehicle. “Call
me if you need anything. I’m just going to be hanging out.”

“Will do,”
I say, hitching my purse up as Rand turns toward the rear of his
Suburban where he has his skis stashed. Apparently, a tune-up is
nothing more than getting the skis repaired of any damage from the
season before, such as nicks and stuff, as well as getting them
waxed. Again, I suspect this is not something that had to be done
right now, but was rather his excuse to drive me to the center of
town, which I find almost unbearably sweet because I don’t
understand what I’ve done to deserve that consideration.