Roaring Fork Roughstock (Roaring Fork Ranch #2)

14. Cici

14

CICI

I stalked out of Mesa King’s stall, not stopping until I’d walked all the way to the house, which was a helluva lot farther from the south barn than it was the north.

Once inside, I slammed the door as hard as I could. If I broke all the fucking windows in the house, I wouldn’t give a shit. I couldn’t do this anymore, and why the hell did I feel like I had to? The land alone had to be worth ten million bucks, maybe more. I could pay off all the debt and still wind up with enough money left over for Mav and me to be set for life.

Porter Wheaton could take his sorry ass back to Crested Butte and forget all about me. Again.

Did he really think I didn’t know why he was here? That he felt so sorry for poor little Cici Morris, the girl whose heart he’d broken, that he promised her daddy to take care of her. Such a load of horse crap—something else I’d had enough of.

Whoever wanted us off this land was about to get their wish. I should’ve sold right after my parents’ accident. Saved both my brother and me a ton of heartache. Maybe if I had, he never would’ve been in fucking Porter Wheaton’s drunken path that night. His leg wouldn’t be mangled, and he wouldn’t be turning into an alcoholic at the age of seventeen.

As tempted as I was to pour myself a good stiff drink too, I didn’t do it. Couldn’t.

I looked out the window, knowing that no matter how angry I was at Porter or how many awful things I said to him, he wouldn’t leave Mesa King’s side. Sure, it meant I was relying on the man I said I didn’t need or want, but he knew as well as I did that, no matter how many times I said it, it would never be true.

“Ceec?” I heard Mav say from upstairs. God in heaven, I could not deal with him tonight.

“Everything’s fine. Go back to bed.”

Did he listen? Of course not. Stupid kid. I spun around on him when he reached the bottom step, ready to light into him. Instead, when I looked him in the eye, I knew straightaway that he was sober.

“I guess you heard,” he said, inching closer to me. “I’m sorry about Houston, sis.” He held one arm out to me, and I fell into his embrace. God, how I needed this—Maverick not drunk and comforting me.

“I’m so tired,” I said through my tears. “I can’t do it anymore. I know I’m letting you down, but I just can’t.”

He leaned far enough away that he could look into my eyes. “You aren’t letting me down. Don’t think that. If you’re done, I’m done.”

“Porter will say we’re letting them win.”

Mav nudged me and grinned. “Who cares what he thinks?”

I did, and my brother knew it.

We both jumped when the door opened and Porter stalked in much in the same way I’d left the barn.

“What are you doing here?” I shrieked. “You left Mesa King alone?”

“No, I didn’t leave him alone. He’s got five people watching over him, one of whom is a vet.”

“Oh my God. What happened?” I lunged for my coat and keys, then remembered I didn’t have my truck.

“Nothing happened. Mesa King is fine, and if you don’t believe me, get out your phone and look.”

“What do you mean?”

Maverick nudged me again and held his phone where I could see it.

I gasped. “There’s a camera in his stall?”

“There are cameras pretty much everywhere,” Mav muttered.

My eyes widened as I looked between my brother and Porter. “Everywhere?”

“No, not everywhere. But yes, every inch of the barn is covered, as are all the outbuildings, equipment sheds, fence lines?—”

“Got it,” I said, cutting Porter off, taking Mav’s phone from his hand, and walking over to the couch.

“Dr. Hanley came back to see how he was doing,” Porter said, sitting next to me. “That was after I called in the cavalry, so to speak.”

“I should go back.”

“No, you should get some rest.”

I looked over my shoulder at my brother, glad he’d said it before Porter could since, if he had, I’d already be on my way out.

“Hanley says Mesa King’s recovery is going well. He also said that, while he isn’t a medical doctor, he predicts that, if you don’t get some rest, you’ll end up in the hospital yourself.”

As much as I didn’t want to look into Porter’s eyes, I couldn’t stop myself. In them, I saw something that made me feel warm all over, but terrified me at the same time. I saw love.

“We need to talk,” he leaned closer and whispered. “But not tonight.”

I nodded, glad he didn’t plan to force me to say the things out loud we both knew I was thinking.

“Mav, would you mind giving me some time alone with your sister?”

“Nope. I’m already on my way back to bed myself. Night, Ceec.”

“Good night, Mav.” I waited until I could hear the sound of him above us before speaking again. “He’s sober.”

“I know.”

“Does this have something to do with your earlier conversation?” I asked.

“In part.”

“Thank you.”

Porter shook his head. “This is Maverick’s journey.”

“Still.”

He stood and held his hand out.

“What?”

“Let’s go to bed, Cici.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Then, I’ll tuck you in and either find an empty bed down the hall or go back to the bunkhouse.”

“I thought Decker’s guys were sleeping there.”

“First of all, Steel is with Mesa King and Jagger’s on night duty, keeping an eye on this place. Second, there are more than two bunks. Now, either you get up and walk on your own, or I’ll carry you.”

“That isn’t necessary—” Before I could finish my sentence, he scooped me into his arms. Rather than fight him, I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it outa you. Probably won’t be the last.”

“Why are you being so nice to me after I was so mean to you?” I said when he set my body on the bed.

“You know why.” He put his hands on either side of me and leaned closer. “And it isn’t because I feel sorry for you.” He stood up straight and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He stopped but didn’t look at me. “What?”

“I don’t want you to sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“I think I remember seeing a couple more empty bedrooms up here.”

“I don’t want you to sleep in those either.”

“What do you want, Cici?” he asked, finally facing me.

“Stay here with me.”

He nodded once, walked around the end of the bed, and sat in the same place he had last night.

“I, um, need to use the bathroom.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you get back,” Porter said, looking up at me when I stood.

In the days that followed, Porter and I formed a tentative truce, albeit one that did not include the same affectionate kisses we’d shared prior to the scene in the barn.

Mesa King’s recovery became my world for the next two weeks. I was part of the rotation of those who slept in the barn with him, monitoring his vital signs, following Dr. Hanley’s instructions to the letter. The stallion’s strength returned slowly but steadily, each small improvement a victory against whoever had tried to kill him.

Each night I spent on a cot, Porter did too. And when I slept in my bed, he was there too.

Thorn and the rest of the guys proved invaluable during this time, handling whatever needed to be done without Porter or me having to ask. It seemed like everyone was anticipating issues before they arose—fixing fence sections that had to be repaired, helping with feeding schedules, stepping in wherever they saw a gap.

“Time for you to get some rest in a real bed,” Porter said, appearing outside the stall after he’d returned from tackling some of the morning chores.

“I’m okay for a little while longer.”

He shook his head. “We agreed whoever is with him at night takes the next day off.”

The concern in his voice made my chest tight. I missed his touch so much, longed for it. At night, my body was drawn to his like a magnet. I’d drift over to his side of the bed, where he was covered by a blanket but remained above the sheets I was under. I’d sleep with my head on his chest. But, unlike the night before I told him to fuck off, his arm didn’t naturally fall across my waist.

If he woke first, he’d ease out from under me and “escape” before I had the chance to say good morning. By the time I got downstairs, he’d be on his way out, usually with Maverick in tow.

While I was curious, something told me not to ask why they went to town as often as they did. That Mav hadn’t been drunk for fifteen days—and yes, I was counting—hinted that their trips might have something to do with it.

“Mornin’, Cici,” said Thorn when I came into the barn for my daily check on the horse, whose recovery was progressing better than expected, at least according to the vet.

“Good morning,” I responded, surprised to see Porter was there too. Was it my imagination, or did his gaze feel slightly warmer today? And was it only me who felt the air crackle when I stepped close enough that we could touch?

“I’ve got an errand to run,” Porter said. “Wonderin’ if you wanted to come with me.”

I was about to ask why Mav wasn’t going, but stopped myself. I’d seen so little of either of them. I’d take whatever time they were willing to give, alone or together.

“I’d like that,” I said.

“I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone,” Thorn offered.

Porter nudged him. “Mighty nice of you, considering it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

Both men chuckled.

Between him and the other guys from the Roaring Fork who showed up every morning and the two men who’d stayed when Decker Ashford left, there’d been no new incidents. The cameras covered every angle of the property.

Still, it was hard for me to shake the feeling that whoever was behind the attacks was simply biding their time.

“How’s breakfast sound?” Porter asked once we were in his truck and driving out the ranch’s gates. How long had it been since I ventured farther from the ranch house than the south barn?

“I’d love it. It feels good to get out.”

“I should’ve thought of it sooner.”

I turned to study him. His eyes were tight, like they’d so often been in the last two weeks. “Porter?”

He glanced in my direction. “What’s up?”

“I want us to be okay?—”

“We’re fine,” he answered too quickly.

It meant lowering my pride, but I had to go on. “You haven’t kissed me.”

His cheeks flushed, something I’d always found so sweet about the rugged cowboy. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

“Inviting you into my bed wasn’t enough of a sign that I did?”

He stunned me by pulling off to the side of the road and parking. “You asked me not to leave. That’s different.”

“What if I didn’t want it to be?”

Porter reached over and cupped my cheek. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

I bristled as old insecurities landed like lead in my stomach. Was he letting me down easy?

“I asked you a question,” he pressed.

“I won’t beg, Porter.”

His sexy smile nearly had me taking it back. “Tell me what you want.”

“Kiss me.”

Our lips met in a frenzy of bottled-up desire. His tongue probed deeply as his hand moved from my cheek to my neck. I’d always loved how assertive and demanding he was with the way he kissed, but more, when we had sex.

I groaned into his mouth at the memory of how good it had been between us. Better than good. Fantastic.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. “Do you know how much I want you?”

“I don’t.”

“It’s agony sleeping beside you every night?—”

“You don’t even touch me.”

Porter kissed me again, just as passionately. “It’s because I know if I do, I won’t stop until we’re both naked and I’m deep inside you.”

I shuddered. “I want that.”

He kissed me once more, then retreated to his side of the truck. “First, breakfast.”

“If we have to,” I said, winking.