Undercover of the Night
immediately following this post here
Laine didn’t know what time it had been when he’d coaxed her off the couch and up the stairs to her bedroom. She had been far too muzzy to think clearly or offer any protest as he’d helped her undress, tucked her into bed sans her customary pajamas and then crawled under the bedclothes beside her. Not that she ever complained about his presence in her bed.
She did know that while she had laid in the crook of his arm, head on his chest, one leg entwined with his, she just couldn’t make herself relax enough to sleep. Instead she kept glancing up, over his shoulder to look at the neon green display of her alarm clock. Watched the minutes drag by as she listened to the sounds of the house settling, the dog walking around on hard wood floors, Anraí’s breathing deepening and slowing as he fell into slumber. Laine stayed where she was for a while, listening to him sleep, breathe, his heart beat soundly in his chest. She even dipped her head now and then to bring her lips against that warm flesh, feather kisses over sculpted muscle and freckled skin.
Sleep still wouldn’t come as the wine-induced haze faded and the aching behind her eyes began. Crying would do that to you. Drinking definitely didn’t help. Being emotionally raw and desperately unsure of your own instincts, well that may as well have set every fiber of her being on edge. She was remarkably composed on the surface for all the turmoil in her mind, in her heart. And yet, as she watched him sleep, that chaos began to ebb, melt away. She made choices. Decisions. If her mind wouldn’t be hushed, she’d at least put the early hours of the morning to good use.
Once she had turned everything around and over more than once, come at things from all the angles she could figure, Laine sat up. She ran a hand through her thick tangle of dark curls, the other dashed across her chest, felt her own heartbeat racing under her palm. Now or never.
Leaning over the side of the bed, she swept her hand along the floor until her fingers closed around the familiar fabric of Anraí’s discarded shirt. Picking it up, she shrugged it on over her bra and panties. Pulled it closed but didn’t button it. She wasn’t being modest and she wasn’t really that cold, but she wanted, maybe needed, that extra bit of him against her skin to boost her confidence. It was a childish and ridiculous way of thinking and she’d laugh at herself for it later, but in this moment it was also so very vital to her.
She turned on the lamp sitting on the bedside table and looked over at the man sleeping next to her. As always, he was on his back, left arm flung out to the side, over the empty expanse of the bed neither of them had occupied. Chest bare and the sheets tucked around his waist. He was handsome, this man with the broad face, squared brow and lips that always looked a bit bee-stung and kissably swollen . Hair that just wouldn’t quite be tamed (or cut to any respectable length).
Her fingers combed through that hair, brushing it back off his forehead as she laid back down beside him. She kissed his temple, his cheek, that spot just below his ear as she murmured to him softly, “Darlin’, wake up…Anraí, sugar…”
Her kisses and quiet requests continued until he opened his eyes and looked up at her, gaze heavy with sleep and not a little confusion. She smiled faintly, nuzzled her face to his briefly. Oh, how amazing those deep, endlessly brown eyes of his were when they were unguarded like this. If she didn’t look away she’d get lost in them and forget everything that was on the tip of her tongue to say.
“You wanted to know what a horse trainer could do on a cattle ranch. That’s somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about for a while now and I think I have the answer, Anraí. At least I do if you’re serious about what you said.
And what I want.”
She had his attention now, she could tell in the way his breath caught, the way his arm moved to curl around her waist. “I never wanted to be a cattle rancher. I hate it. I do. I have always hated it but I did it for Wes. Told myself that that’s what he wanted Flint Creek to be. And now…now, well I know that I didn’t know my brother as well as I thought I did. And I hate that more than I hate the livestock.”
He didn’t interrupt her as she spoke, he simply brought his left hand to her hair, fingers working through the curls to cradle the back of her head and keep her close.
“I did this for him. I gave up a lot for Wes. And I don’t begrudge him that, he was my big brother and I’d do anythin’ for him and gladly. But this was his dream, not mine. And it’s cost me more than I’m willing to pay any more.
All I ever wanted, and I mean ALL I ever wanted, was horses. Even when I was a little girl. Ever since my parents gave me my first pony, one of my very own…”
She heard him make a small noise, a deep rumble in his chest. Horses. The love of the graceful equine creatures was something he understood better than anyone she had ever known.
“Growin’ up, I couldn’t do that. There was a farm to run. A house to help Mama care for. School to go to. And I did it all--me and Wes both did. We did what we were told to do and never thought nothin’ of it. It’s just the way it was. Our parents gave us everythin’ and we helped out as much as we could. The older we got the more we helped.
“Then when I got married…God, I was just a baby back then. Eighteen, what the hell were we thinkin’? It was all about seein’ Jackson through veterinary school and then building his practice. And we did it. Good Lord did we do it, built that man’s small clinic into the practice that he has today. And that was fine and well and I’m happy he’s so successful. I could have taken half of it with me, when we divorced, but I didn’t want it. It’s his no matter how much work and time and tears I put into that place.
“And Margie. You know I will never ever hold anythin’ against her, not after all the time I spent takin’ care of her fool ass when she was sick. I guess I never told you that, did I? Part of the reason Jackson and I had a bad time of it for a while. Margene…well, it ain’t no secret or anythin’ but she doesn’t like to talk about it, but she had breast cancer. She’s fine now, she is, but when she went through the chemotherapy and the radiation I swear I thought it was goin’ to kill her. Her daddy couldn’t take care of her then, she didn’t want him doin’ those sorts of things that needed to be done and she hated the idea of a nurse livin’ and breathin’ on top of her. Margene’s my best friend; it never crossed my mind not to help her get through that.”
She paused then, needed to breathe, needed the soft kisses he was pressing to her brow, the top of her head. If he had anything to say about the things she was telling him about, he was keeping his counsel to himself for now. It made her smile even if tears were threatening again. He knew her well enough to let her barrel through this, get it off her chest and sort it out after.
“And Wes. Everythin’ I do, have done these last few years, it’s all been for Wesley. His staff. I wanted to keep them all on; I wanted to keep the ranch goin’. The business. I helped him build this place too, I put my MBA to work and sat in an office down at the barn and let him do all the physical end of things. I handled the payroll, the invoices, the paperwork no one else ever wants to think about. And I was happy to do that too, because oh…he was so happy with Flint Creek. Or was. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that to get myself through it all. But I keep thinkin’ now, you know? If he was goin’ to sell this place, was going to give Flint Creek up to the developers or the oil sniffin’ jackals and let them drill holes all through this gorgeous place, well…what the hell am I doin’ killin’ myself for a couple hundred head of cattle that I hate?”
And that was the crux of it right there, the turning point that Laine had been resisting for far too long.
“I want to sell them off. Take them to one last auction and wash my hands of it. In the grand scheme of things Flint Creek is more of a hobby than a business as far as the beef industry goes. What I do ain’t gonna affect the market one way or the other. Flint Creek is mine now, and it’s taken me years to realize that. To truly believe that this is all mine. And if it’s mine, shouldn’t I get to do what I want, Anraí? Does that make me selfish? I want it to be my turn now, to have what I want because I suddenly feel like I don’t have any more give in me for anyone else.”
Except, of course, the man holding her, looking down at her as she tipped her head back to speak to him. Now she needed to look into the endless dark depths, needed to reassure herself of everything he’d told her downstairs in her living room.
“I want my horses. I want to raise horses here. Lord knows I have the land for it. And the crop space to grow most of my own feed. This place could be self-sufficient for the most part, I think. And, well…if I can convince you to do this, to help me get things changed over. Up and runnin’…I want to do what you do in New Mexico. I want to raise horses. If you’ll help me do this the right way or even if you won’t. If you’d at least point me in the right direction or the right people…”
Was he smiling at her? Bemusement with his wild woman? She didn’t consider it long, instead she switched tracks on him before he could answer her one way or the other. Her voice softened, her hands moved to rest against his chest and she lifted her head to press a kiss to his chin before telling him what she wanted most of all.
“And Anraí, there’s somethin’ else I want to do here at Flint Creek. And I need you to do it, only you. I want to start a family. I want, oh sugar, I want to have children with you. I want to have your babies.”
Now she’d let him talk. Now that she’d said everything she could possibly say, just before dawn, where the night still held some small sense of freedom and lack of inhibition.
Laine didn’t know what time it had been when he’d coaxed her off the couch and up the stairs to her bedroom. She had been far too muzzy to think clearly or offer any protest as he’d helped her undress, tucked her into bed sans her customary pajamas and then crawled under the bedclothes beside her. Not that she ever complained about his presence in her bed.
She did know that while she had laid in the crook of his arm, head on his chest, one leg entwined with his, she just couldn’t make herself relax enough to sleep. Instead she kept glancing up, over his shoulder to look at the neon green display of her alarm clock. Watched the minutes drag by as she listened to the sounds of the house settling, the dog walking around on hard wood floors, Anraí’s breathing deepening and slowing as he fell into slumber. Laine stayed where she was for a while, listening to him sleep, breathe, his heart beat soundly in his chest. She even dipped her head now and then to bring her lips against that warm flesh, feather kisses over sculpted muscle and freckled skin.
Sleep still wouldn’t come as the wine-induced haze faded and the aching behind her eyes began. Crying would do that to you. Drinking definitely didn’t help. Being emotionally raw and desperately unsure of your own instincts, well that may as well have set every fiber of her being on edge. She was remarkably composed on the surface for all the turmoil in her mind, in her heart. And yet, as she watched him sleep, that chaos began to ebb, melt away. She made choices. Decisions. If her mind wouldn’t be hushed, she’d at least put the early hours of the morning to good use.
Once she had turned everything around and over more than once, come at things from all the angles she could figure, Laine sat up. She ran a hand through her thick tangle of dark curls, the other dashed across her chest, felt her own heartbeat racing under her palm. Now or never.
Leaning over the side of the bed, she swept her hand along the floor until her fingers closed around the familiar fabric of Anraí’s discarded shirt. Picking it up, she shrugged it on over her bra and panties. Pulled it closed but didn’t button it. She wasn’t being modest and she wasn’t really that cold, but she wanted, maybe needed, that extra bit of him against her skin to boost her confidence. It was a childish and ridiculous way of thinking and she’d laugh at herself for it later, but in this moment it was also so very vital to her.
She turned on the lamp sitting on the bedside table and looked over at the man sleeping next to her. As always, he was on his back, left arm flung out to the side, over the empty expanse of the bed neither of them had occupied. Chest bare and the sheets tucked around his waist. He was handsome, this man with the broad face, squared brow and lips that always looked a bit bee-stung and kissably swollen . Hair that just wouldn’t quite be tamed (or cut to any respectable length).
Her fingers combed through that hair, brushing it back off his forehead as she laid back down beside him. She kissed his temple, his cheek, that spot just below his ear as she murmured to him softly, “Darlin’, wake up…Anraí, sugar…”
Her kisses and quiet requests continued until he opened his eyes and looked up at her, gaze heavy with sleep and not a little confusion. She smiled faintly, nuzzled her face to his briefly. Oh, how amazing those deep, endlessly brown eyes of his were when they were unguarded like this. If she didn’t look away she’d get lost in them and forget everything that was on the tip of her tongue to say.
“You wanted to know what a horse trainer could do on a cattle ranch. That’s somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about for a while now and I think I have the answer, Anraí. At least I do if you’re serious about what you said.
And what I want.”
She had his attention now, she could tell in the way his breath caught, the way his arm moved to curl around her waist. “I never wanted to be a cattle rancher. I hate it. I do. I have always hated it but I did it for Wes. Told myself that that’s what he wanted Flint Creek to be. And now…now, well I know that I didn’t know my brother as well as I thought I did. And I hate that more than I hate the livestock.”
He didn’t interrupt her as she spoke, he simply brought his left hand to her hair, fingers working through the curls to cradle the back of her head and keep her close.
“I did this for him. I gave up a lot for Wes. And I don’t begrudge him that, he was my big brother and I’d do anythin’ for him and gladly. But this was his dream, not mine. And it’s cost me more than I’m willing to pay any more.
All I ever wanted, and I mean ALL I ever wanted, was horses. Even when I was a little girl. Ever since my parents gave me my first pony, one of my very own…”
She heard him make a small noise, a deep rumble in his chest. Horses. The love of the graceful equine creatures was something he understood better than anyone she had ever known.
“Growin’ up, I couldn’t do that. There was a farm to run. A house to help Mama care for. School to go to. And I did it all--me and Wes both did. We did what we were told to do and never thought nothin’ of it. It’s just the way it was. Our parents gave us everythin’ and we helped out as much as we could. The older we got the more we helped.
“Then when I got married…God, I was just a baby back then. Eighteen, what the hell were we thinkin’? It was all about seein’ Jackson through veterinary school and then building his practice. And we did it. Good Lord did we do it, built that man’s small clinic into the practice that he has today. And that was fine and well and I’m happy he’s so successful. I could have taken half of it with me, when we divorced, but I didn’t want it. It’s his no matter how much work and time and tears I put into that place.
“And Margie. You know I will never ever hold anythin’ against her, not after all the time I spent takin’ care of her fool ass when she was sick. I guess I never told you that, did I? Part of the reason Jackson and I had a bad time of it for a while. Margene…well, it ain’t no secret or anythin’ but she doesn’t like to talk about it, but she had breast cancer. She’s fine now, she is, but when she went through the chemotherapy and the radiation I swear I thought it was goin’ to kill her. Her daddy couldn’t take care of her then, she didn’t want him doin’ those sorts of things that needed to be done and she hated the idea of a nurse livin’ and breathin’ on top of her. Margene’s my best friend; it never crossed my mind not to help her get through that.”
She paused then, needed to breathe, needed the soft kisses he was pressing to her brow, the top of her head. If he had anything to say about the things she was telling him about, he was keeping his counsel to himself for now. It made her smile even if tears were threatening again. He knew her well enough to let her barrel through this, get it off her chest and sort it out after.
“And Wes. Everythin’ I do, have done these last few years, it’s all been for Wesley. His staff. I wanted to keep them all on; I wanted to keep the ranch goin’. The business. I helped him build this place too, I put my MBA to work and sat in an office down at the barn and let him do all the physical end of things. I handled the payroll, the invoices, the paperwork no one else ever wants to think about. And I was happy to do that too, because oh…he was so happy with Flint Creek. Or was. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that to get myself through it all. But I keep thinkin’ now, you know? If he was goin’ to sell this place, was going to give Flint Creek up to the developers or the oil sniffin’ jackals and let them drill holes all through this gorgeous place, well…what the hell am I doin’ killin’ myself for a couple hundred head of cattle that I hate?”
And that was the crux of it right there, the turning point that Laine had been resisting for far too long.
“I want to sell them off. Take them to one last auction and wash my hands of it. In the grand scheme of things Flint Creek is more of a hobby than a business as far as the beef industry goes. What I do ain’t gonna affect the market one way or the other. Flint Creek is mine now, and it’s taken me years to realize that. To truly believe that this is all mine. And if it’s mine, shouldn’t I get to do what I want, Anraí? Does that make me selfish? I want it to be my turn now, to have what I want because I suddenly feel like I don’t have any more give in me for anyone else.”
Except, of course, the man holding her, looking down at her as she tipped her head back to speak to him. Now she needed to look into the endless dark depths, needed to reassure herself of everything he’d told her downstairs in her living room.
“I want my horses. I want to raise horses here. Lord knows I have the land for it. And the crop space to grow most of my own feed. This place could be self-sufficient for the most part, I think. And, well…if I can convince you to do this, to help me get things changed over. Up and runnin’…I want to do what you do in New Mexico. I want to raise horses. If you’ll help me do this the right way or even if you won’t. If you’d at least point me in the right direction or the right people…”
Was he smiling at her? Bemusement with his wild woman? She didn’t consider it long, instead she switched tracks on him before he could answer her one way or the other. Her voice softened, her hands moved to rest against his chest and she lifted her head to press a kiss to his chin before telling him what she wanted most of all.
“And Anraí, there’s somethin’ else I want to do here at Flint Creek. And I need you to do it, only you. I want to start a family. I want, oh sugar, I want to have children with you. I want to have your babies.”
Now she’d let him talk. Now that she’d said everything she could possibly say, just before dawn, where the night still held some small sense of freedom and lack of inhibition.