9. Rachel
Chapter 9
Rachel
“ R elax your hips with the horse’s movement,” Travis instructs, voice low as I adjust my posture. “Feel the rhythm.”
“Like this?” I try to my body move with the natural sway of the animal.
“Perfect.”
We ride side by side, sometimes silent, sometimes laughing at a shared joke, the connection between us twining tighter with every step the horses take. The creaking of saddles, the occasional horse’s snort, and the swaying of tree branches are the only sounds other than our sparse conversation. It’s absolutely serenity, and I can see why he love his land.
“Here we are,” he suddenly announces, bringing his horse to a stop and dismounting with ease, then offering his hand to help me down. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He’s guided us to a secluded grove to the right of a huge field of bluebonnets, a shady spot out from under the hot Texas sun.
“It’s breathtaking.”
“Yes, absolutely breathtaking.”
I slowly spin around, expecting to catch him gazing out at the sea of wildflowers, specs of bees hovering before dashing to their next destination. But he’s staring at me.
“Oh.”
Our kisses are hungry, fueled by more passion than I’ve ever experienced. His hands are everywhere, like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of my body. On my hips, rubbing up and down my arms, kneading my ass, roaming over my back, and cupping my face with such tenderness tears form in my eyes.
Without questioning how quickly it happens, in a matter of seconds, we’re both naked, our clothes tossed with little regard for where they land. Travis pulls a blanket from his saddlebag, and before I know it, we’re rolling over the scratchy fabric, wrapped in each other’s arms, panting heavily as we devour each other. The grove seems to close around us, and the birds and the bees are kept at bay. It’s just the two of us.
“Travis.” I don’t recognize my own voice, it’s so low and growly, so full of emotion.
He cups my cheek, his thumbs tracing the delicate curve of my cheekbone. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Our mouths crash together in a scorching kiss, hungry and intense.
After a long moment, Travis breaks our connection to trail a path along my jawline to that sensitive spot on my neck. “God, Rachel.” He groans, sucking in a deep breath. “You drive me crazy.”
“The feeling’s mutual, cowboy.”
He dips his head and sucks one nipple between his lips, teasing the tip with his tongue, circling it, tasting it. Savoring it.
I gasp and push more fully into his mouth before he moves to the other giving it the same amount of attention before going back and forth until both breasts are swollen, red, and wet with his saliva.
The perfume of bluebonnets mingles with the warm scent of him, as Travis works his way down my stomach, kissing, nipping, and sucking until he settles between my legs, lifting them to rest comfortably over his shoulders.
Closing my eyes, I breathe deep, loving how he treats me, makes me feel. Like I’m special, appreciated, loved.
“Open your eyes, honey. I want to watch you.”
I open my eyes just as he swipes his tongue through my pussy, capturing and swallowing my flavor, licking and eating me like I’m the sweetest barbecue. He takes the time to tease my clit with little circles and flicks, caressing it almost ruthlessly until I’m squirming and panting.
I’m momentarily disappointed lifts his head and crawls over me until our bodies instinctually align, and then he enters me with a slow thrust that draws deep moans from both of us.
We move as one, each plunge pushing us higher, and I realize the sun’s warmth is nothing compared to the heat we generate between us.
“Travis.” I dig my nails into his shoulders and my heels into his back. “Please...”
His control finally slips, and he drives into me with a fervor that matches the wild beating of our hearts.
“Harder,” I beg. “Faster.”
A coil of tension winds tight in my gut. His grunts echo my breathy cries, our passion building and unstoppable, and I cry out, shattering around him, my body shaking as my release washes over me.
That’s all it takes to send Travis over the edge, spilling into me with a guttural growl, his hips jerking through his orgasm.
In the afterglow, there is no room for pretense or playacting. I know with absolute certainty that what we just shared was real—and I don’t want to let him go.
I’ve fallen head over boot heels in love with Travis Kincaid.
As I lay back in the field of bluebonnets, staring up at the vast Texas sky, my skin still tingles from Travis’s touch. A lazy, satisfied warmth spreads through me, mixing with the soft scent of crushed flowers. I turn my head to watch him as he buttons his jeans, his movements unhurried. He catches me staring and gives a half-smile that makes my heart do a ridiculous little flip.
I sit up and smooth out my clothes. My hair is still a wild mess, so I tried to tame it with my fingers, but truth be told, I don’t really care. I happen to like the disheveled look.
“Got plans for dinner?” he asks, pulling on his flannel shirt. It has a tear in the elbow I hadn’t noticed before. The man can afford a new shirt, so maybe it’s a favorite, or, like me, he doesn’t care about things like that.
“Not yet.” I stand and brush bits of grass and flowers from my clothes. “Why? You cooking?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
I like how he never makes a big deal out of anything and talks like every word costs him something. It makes what he says feel important, as if he weighs it beforehand.
My phone buzzes, and I fish it out of my purse in the saddlebag, finding a message.
MOM:
Rachel, I’m so sorry about everything. Can we talk?
I sigh.
Travis watches me, his blue eyes unreadable.
“It’s my mom. She wants to apologize. Again.”
He nods slowly. “Family’s important.”
I know he’s right, but coming from him, it stings a little. He has a big, sprawling ranch, siblings, even if they don’t live here, and a community that knows him better than I do. I only have Mom, and our relationship is more like a series of negotiations than a partnership.
I type out a quick response:
It’s okay. I forgive you for telling Matt where I lived.
Then decide to add:
I’ll call you later.
“Everything okay?” Travis asks.
“Yeah.” I slip the phone back into my bag. “She means well. I think.”
We start walking toward where Travis hobbled the horses. This field is probably the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I came to Cupid’s Creek. A sea of blue and green all around me, like a scene from someone else’s life, where things are simple and beautiful.
“I’m glad you can forgive her,” Travis says after a long pause. “Holding on to stuff like that eats you up over time.”
I probably owe her a thank you, considering. I wouldn’t have invited Travis to act as my fake boyfriend if she hadn’t called to let me know about her surprise visit. And if she hadn’t told Matt where I landed, he wouldn’t have shown up, and we wouldn’t have had that showdown, and Travis and I wouldn’t have ended up in bed or had today. In some twisted way, I’m grateful.
Instead, I just say, “Yeah. I know.”
We mount up, and the ride back is quiet, the silence that sits comfortably between two people who don’t need to fill every moment with chatter. My mind wanders, thinking about the last few days—how quickly things have changed—how I’ve gone from feeling more or less alone to… being in love.
When we get to the barn, the afternoon sun is dipping low, casting long shadows across the pastures. Travis dismounts and walks over to me, his hand gentle on my thigh as he helps me down. He passes the horses off to one his men, and then hand in hand, we stroll to the house.
“I’m gonna get changed,” he says, nodding toward the front porch. “Make yourself at home.” At the door, he turns, and his eyes linger on me. “I’ll be quick.”
For a moment, I think he might kiss me. Except he doesn’t. He opens the door and walks inside, leaving me alone in the warm evening air. I select a comfortable chair and settle in the thick cushion and close my eyes, letting the sounds of Travis’s ranch wash over me—the low murmur of cattle, the distant clank of metal coming from the barn, even sounds of movement inside the house.
My phone buzzes with another text message, that I read, but don’t answer.
MOM:
Thank you. I just want you to be happy.
I want to believe her. She can be overbearing and critical, but she’s all I have, and deep down, I know she wants what’s best for me—even if her idea of best differs from mine.
I put the phone away and look out over the ranch. I’d done my share of Googling, so I knew Travis’s marriage and slit had been splashed across the local newspaper pages. There’s a rumor she cheated on him. Knowing this makes me understand him better—his walls, his reluctance to dive into any relationship headfirst.
Our relationship was supposed to be casual and uncomplicated. But every time we’re together, I fall deeper. I know he cares for me, but I’m not sure if he can ever love me the way I think I love him. Everything has happened so fast.
I push the thought away and rise, walking to the edge of the porch. I watch the stable hands work, my mind drifting. I think about the night Travis kissed me at the festival to fool my mother, how tentative we’d both been, like two teenagers unsure of each other’s intentions. His touch is comforting and special, like a loving home.
The screen door bangs, and I spin around to find Travis’s mother.
She sits on one of the rockers, her lips tight, her eyes cold.
This woman hates me.
Laura Kincaid is every bit the matriarch, a woman who wears her age and status like a finely tailored suit. Today, it’s a cream-colored blouse tucked into high-waisted dark denim. She’s even wearing polished boots. What might look silly on some her age, on her it looks elegant. Her silver-streaked hair is styled in soft waves, and she has a string of pearls around her neck. She exudes a stern, almost mercenary poise.
“You’re here again, I see,” she says, not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.
A knot forms in my stomach. Disapproval radiates off her in waves, threatening to erode my resolve. But I swallow tightly, reminding myself that I’m not here for her approval. I’m here for Travis.
“Mrs. Kincaid.” I approach her with what I hope is a friendly smile and pull a piece of cheese from my handbag. “I have some chèvre. Would you like a piece?”
She examines the offering as if I were handing over a dead mouse.
My fingers tighten around the cheese, the cellophane wrapper crinkling softly. Now it feels like a foolish gesture, childish even. My bravado falters. “It’s really good. Organic and everything.”
She scoffs. “No thank you.” The last part is delivered with such sarcasm that I wonder if she’s even capable of smiling.
I shove the cheese back into my purse, trying not to let her get to me. “Travis mentioned you love gourmet foods. I just thought?—”
“Travis says a lot of things,” she cuts in. “Like how you’re a waitress.” She settles back in the rocker, her determined gaze never leaving mine. “I’m sure it’s very rewarding work, scraping by like that.”
Shame and anger churn in my belly. I’ve worked hard to build a life for myself, escape the suffocating expectations of my own mother, and leave behind a toxic relationship. And here is Travis’s mother dismissing it all with a few carefully chosen words meant to hurt. I want to shout and defend myself, but the words stick in my throat.
I bite the inside of my cheek, tasting a tinge of copper. This woman is unbelievable. “It is. I take a lot of pride in what I do.”
“Of course you do. Pride is important when you don’t have much else.”
I think of my tiny apartment, secondhand furniture, the dreams I’ve put on hold. Was that all she saw when she looked at me? A charity case? Someone not worthy of her son?
I open my mouth to say something—what, I’m not sure—but close it again. There’s probably no winning with her. She’s like a bulldozer, flattening everything in her path. Or a protective mama bear. I think about my mother and how she would probably get along with Laura Kincaid. The two could start a club for overbearing parents who think they know best.
“Look, Mrs. Kincaid.” I decide to try a different tack. “I know you’re worried about Travis. He means a lot to me, and I would never do anything to hurt him.”
She huffs her disbelief. “This is what your kind does. You want my son’s money and then pretend you’re magnanimous once you have your greedy hands on his wallet.”
Her words hit me like a sharp slap. “My kind? Greedy? I’m not using his money for anything. I don’t want it, and I’ve never asked him for a cent.”
Anger flares hot and bright in my chest. How dare she reduce me to some gold-digging stereotype? I take pride in supporting myself, no matter how few dollars sit in my bank account. But doubt creeps in, insidious and unwelcome. Am I fooling myself? Does everyone see me the way she does?
She waves a dismissive hand. “No, but you will. It’s only a matter of time. Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on here. You’re playing the long game, hoping to marry into security. It’s all very predictable. You’re all the same.”
“We’re not even that serious,” I blurt out, immediately regret it. Why am I trying to downplay our relationship? Maybe because a part of me is starting to believe Travis and I have been doomed from the start. I want to yank the words back as soon as they leave my mouth. I’m letting her get to me, making me doubt everything I feel for Travis.
She raises an eyebrow. “So, this is just a fling for you? That makes it so much better.”
I’m sinking fast. “I mean, we’re taking things slowly. Seeing where it goes.” The thought of losing Travis scares me shitless.
Her scoff is immediate and harsh. “Oh please, save that for someone who might believe it. You’re not fooling anyone, least of all me.” She crosses her arms, her gaze piercing as she leans forward in the chair as though she’s about to share something special. “Spare us all the drama, Rachel. You’re not good enough for him. And we both know it.”
Each word is a knife stabbing deep.
I inhale, working to steady myself. “I care about your son. That’s real, whether you believe it or not.”
She rises from the chair, her posture as rigid as a soldier’s. “Caring is easy. Love is hard.”
I stared at her, speechless.
“Stay away from my son.” Her voice is low and hostile, and the look on her face is brutally cold.
I start to tremble. I’d hoped we’d find an olive branch of some sort. I thought she’d like me once she got to know me. Doesn’t every mother only want their child to be happy?
She’s right about one thing, though. I am proud. Maybe too proud. But I’m not a fool, and I don’t use people. The longer I stand here, the more I wonder if this is a battle I can win.
Laura’s voice cuts through the silence again, icy and sharp. “Really, Rachel, what do you expect to gain from all this? Do you think playing house with my son will change your stripes?”
I clench my fists. “I’m not trying to gain anything. I just?—”
“Just what? Play the poor little girl in need of rescue?” Her sneer is palpable. “It’s pathetic.”
For a moment, I am that little girl, desperate for approval, never quite measuring up. But beneath the sting, anger flickers to life. I refuse to let anyone, even Travis’s mother, reduce me to anything less.
“I don’t need to be rescued, Mrs. Kincaid. Not by Travis, not by you, not by anyone.”
Her expression is unreadable for a moment before she scoffs. “Now, that would be a first.”
Her dismissal burns, but I refuse to let it consume me. With her sharp tongue and judgmental gaze, this woman will not break me.
“Enough.” The growl of Travis’s voice on the other side of the screen door cuts through the tension like a hot knife through butter.
Both his mother and I spin around. How long has he been standing there? How much did he hear?
“I’ll take Rachel home now.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and I’m not sure if he’s angry with me or her.
Regardless of what think of her, or she of me, I don’t want to be the cause of conflict between them. The need to escape overwhelms me.
“No.” My voice is firm, though I’m shaking like a leaf. “I can get my own ride, thank you.” My gaze darts past him, seeing one of his men loading up a truck near the barn and I walk toward the steps.
Travis comes out the house, reaching out. “Rachel, wait?—”
I’m already moving, almost running toward the man representing my escape. My eyes blur with unshed tears, a storm of emotions threatening to break through, but I will not allow either Travis or his mother to see me cry.
His voice trails behind me, though, tinged with frustration and concern. I can’t make out his words over the pounding in my ears.
“Rachel!” His shout is loud and clear now, but it doesn’t stop me. The need to distance myself from his mother’s stinging accusations propels me forward, each step away from the porch lightening the anvil on my chest.
I reach the cowboy and somehow manage a breathless, “Can you give me a ride into town? Please?”
He looks surprised, glancing from me to where Travis is somewhere behind me. He must have stopped in his chase because I don’t feel his heat on my back. And that crushes me.
The man nods, a kind gesture that offers me sanctuary. “Sure thing, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, unable to keep the quiver from my voice. As I climb into the truck’s passenger seat, I dare not look back toward the house.
Laura Kincaid’s words echo in my head, each a barbed hook reeling me back to the insecurities I thought I had overcome. ‘Not good enough for him,’ they whisper. Was that the truth? Or just the poison of an overprotective mother?
The truck rumbles to life, and as we pull away, a part of me aches to turn back to face this head-on. I can’t help but look, and press my fingertips to the cool window, watching Travis’s figure recede in the dust. He doesn’t move. His posture is rigid against the backdrop. I wish I could seek comfort in his arms and prove his mother wrong.
But I’ve spent too long letting others define my worth. It’s time to remember who I am and why I left New York and came to Cupid’s Creek. Travis deserves someone who can stand tall in his world, and I need to figure out if I can be that person—for both our sakes.
“Everything okay?” the older man asks, his kind eyes clouded with worried.
I manage a small, tight-lipped smile, not yet trusting myself to speak. My grip on my emotions is tenuous at best, and I need every ounce of strength not to let them spill over.
“It’s all fine,” I lie, staring at the man I love becoming a smaller and smaller imagine in the side mirror, until he disappears altogether.