12
CLINT
OPPOSING DREAMS
Taylor”s in her room, but I”m restless in mine. Hearing her with Jesse downstairs after the Lackey”s left made me crazy. I”m not jealous, more worried about her, and not sure that Jesse knows how to handle Taylor as carefully as she needs.
After she tiptoes to bed, I wait in my doorway for Jesse to make his way upstairs, and when he does, I can”t bring myself to say anything to him.
I want to tell him he”s an asshole for choosing someone like Taylor and not being honest with her. She”s a fragile thing, although she likes to pretend she”s not. She”s so desperate for us to like her, and Jesse”s taking advantage of her desire to please, even after he overheard her crying on the phone.
And locking her in the house and upsetting her that way shows he”s thinking of himself before her. My dark stare must burn, but he simply nods his head as he passes.
“Night,” he says, then disappears into his room, closing the door behind him.
I need to sleep, but I can”t—not when Taylor”s next door... when my wife”s next door and might be upset.
I shouldn”t have these feelings for her. I can”t. Giving her false hope isn”t fair. I”m not husband material, at least not in the love and relationship-building sense. I”ve done too much bad in my life. I”d taint sweet Taylor with all that darkness.
But she needs me. I know she does. I feel it.
I”d trust Jesse with my life, but I don”t know that I”d trust him with Taylor”s heart.
Swiping my hands over my face, I slide out of bed, hesitating, then resolving to go next door.
The door to Taylor”s room is unlocked, and when I swing it open, I find her sleeping curled on her side with her arms crossed at the wrists, tucked under her chin like a child.
Her expression is soft in sleep, not tight with worry about whether she”s doing things right, not anxious about the way she looks or the clothes she”s wearing.
I touch her hand gently until she inhales deeply, and her eyes flicker open.
“Can I sleep here?” I ask.
“Err…sure.” She sits up in a rush, all the awareness that she carries over her true self back on like a mask.
“It”s okay,” I say. “Go back to sleep.”
“You don”t want to—”
“I just want to sleep.”
She bites her lip, eying my bare chest and then my boxers, searching. I”m hard, but I”m not going to do anything about it. She wriggles back under the covers, and I round the bed, sliding in behind her. She”s so warm and soft, and tucking her against my body feels so damned good. Her body is tense at the start, the unfamiliarity between us fusing her spine. I push my fingers through hers, gripping her hand inside mine. “You feel good,” I tell her.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Taylor”s hair tickles my nose, and I inhale her sweet rose scent.
“Sleep now,” I tell her.
And a haze like narcotics slides over me, wiping my mind clean.
“Time to get up.” Jesse”s voice booms through the house, his hand banging on the door to another room. I glance next to me and find the bed empty. The sound of dishes clattering travels up from the kitchen. Taylor must have gone downstairs to make breakfast. She should have woken me.
I throw back the covers and head into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
By this evening, we need to have the fences fixed. The bunkhouse needs resetting before the new cohort arrives. God knows what sort of state it”s in and what might need repairing over there. If Taylor”s housekeeping skills are as good as her baking, then the bunkhouse will be more like a guesthouse by the time she has put her touches on it.
That phone call Jesse overheard has left us all concerned. We need to know what she has going on outside this ranch so we can deal with any potential fallout. Jesse wants me to dig for information, but conversation isn”t my strength.
Curiosity gets the better of me as I eye the drawers in Taylor”s room. She”s my wife, and I know almost nothing about her, apart from how good it feels to have her in my arms or to move between her legs. Searching through her things is an invasion of privacy, but I”m hoping it”ll help me better work out what questions to ask if I have some background information.
The noise of clattering in the kitchen assures me that I won”t be busted looking through her things. Despite my misgivings, I lower myself back down on the edge of her bed, smoothing over the place where she lay. Opening the drawer as noiselessly as I can, I scan the meager contents: a battered cellphone, switched on but password protected, an empty notebook and pen, a colorful romance novel. Predictable. But the edge of something sandwiched between the pages catches my eye. I take out the book and remove a photograph that has been placed there to keep it safe or to keep it hidden. I squash a flash of guilt as it pulses through me. It”s not that I don”t trust her, but I want to know more about who she is and why she’s here.
The scene in the picture is one of a happy, loving family. Taylor”s much younger in this photo, but her beautiful eyes are the same, and so is the sense of awkwardness that stiffens her posture. I”m guessing she”s with her momma, her sister, and grandmother. The family resemblance is too strong for them to be unrelated. But there”s no father in the photograph. Maybe he took the picture.
Where are they all now? Why do I even care? Something catches in my chest as I breathe in. There are too many secrets between us all. I”m not sure how long they can stay hidden, and if they come out, will Taylor want to stay here?
Taking care to put everything back in its original place, I make my way out of her room to head back to my own so I can get the day started.
In the kitchen, Taylor”s wearing one of her old, oversized shirts. A blast of cinnamon rises out on a warm cloud of steam, making my stomach rumble and my mouth water. She sees me and smiles shyly.
“If you like, I can put one of these on a plate and bring it over to you at the table with some coffee. I”ve not seen Maverick or Jesse yet.”
“Someone say my name?” Maverick swaggers in, near enough naked, in only his tight boxers. His hair is ruffled, and his face is creased on one side. He grins and swipes his hands through his hair, winking at me as he checks out Taylor”s bare legs. His next move involves him swiping for a hot pastry, which he drops back just as quickly.
“Damn, these are hot!” As he heads to the refrigerator, Taylor swivels her gaze to take in his lean back and shoulders, rippling with corded muscles. He”s in damn good shape. It”s just as well I”m not the jealous type with my wife getting her fix so blatantly like that over one of my housemates.
“I was going to get the juice, but it”s such a warm morning that I didn”t want it to spoil. Do you want some coffee, too? Clint”s having some.”
“For Christ”s sake, Maverick. Put some clothes on? You”ll put me off my damn breakfast!”
Jesse is preened and ready, standing in the doorway assessing the scene. I”m not sure I”ve ever seen him anything less than well-turned-out. Even wrestling an escaped stallion, he manages to keep every hair in place.
“Coffee and a pastry, Taylor, please. And I think we”ll need lunch packed today as we”re heading out for the day to see to those damn fences. I”ve got Eric coming to test the electricity, so we have a better idea of what needs to be done.”
I seize my opportunity. “Maybe Taylor should come with us today. She could ride Taffy, or else she could ride with one of us.”
Jesse”s clear ocean eyes search my expression, suspicious at first, then he nods. “Good idea. I was going to suggest the same thing. You could ride together on Taffy.” Probably because he”s still worried Taylor”s going to escape while his back is turned. Jesus, the guy needs to drop the suspicion or else he”ll give himself a heart attack. He heads over to the table, and he and Maverick sit at opposite ends.
“And what about the bunkhouse? Aren”t the new workers coming at the weekend? I thought Taylor could get that all set up, too? I can give her a hand.”
“That could work. Mitch said that he”ll fetch them on Sunday so that gives us a few days to get things sorted.”
Taylor approaches with a serving plate filled with more pastries, some steaming oatmeal, and some chopped apple to go with it all. Healthy options as well.
“I”m gonna lend you my favorite Stetson for today, Taylor. It”s reserved for special occasions. Or, in this case, special people.”
Taylor nods and smiles, and Jesse eyes Maverick like he just offered the girl a ride on his dick.
In half an hour, we”re out and saddling up Taffy, our palomino gelding. He’s as sweet as candy and perfect for a beginner to enjoy. He’s the son of Jesse”s stallion, Bristol, and the two get on well. I love riding him and often do it for his company.
Taylor has packed up a basket of cooked chicken, cold potato salad, and a stash of pastries. Juice, water, and a flask of hot coffee will keep everyone fed and hydrated for most of today.
We ride behind Jesse and Maverick and trot along at a comfortable pace. Taylor is stiff with concentration.
“You can ease up there. He”s a good horse. You can trust him. Try to sit easy, if that makes sense. You”re already a natural.” She doesn”t seem totally convinced but drops her shoulders, raises her chin, and tries to center herself.
“Is that better?” She relaxes, more at one with the horse. And me. With my legs wrapped around her hips and her butt rubbing against my dick, it”s hard to concentrate. I”m holding the reins, but I”ve got her holding them, too. It”s a good way to get her used to riding, and next time, she can try riding Taffy alone.
“Yeah. You”ve got it.”
“He”s a good boy, aren”t you, Taffy?” she croons.
“He is.”
When we seem to have settled into a rhythm and she’s taking in the scenery on our route to the outer pastures, I force myself to ask her some questions, whispering directly into her ear. The scent of her new shampoo is sweet and makes me want to nuzzle into her hair the way I did last night.
“Are the recipes you use family secrets?”
“Some. I had a job in a bakery in the town where I live. Lived. I learned a lot there, but I”ve been interested in food for a long time.” She adjusts her hat to keep the sun at bay. It”s just at the wrong angle as we head East and away from the pastures closest to the ranch.
“So it”s not something you picked up at home then? I wondered if maybe your momma was good in the kitchen with skills like that.”
Taylor shrugs but remains tight-lipped. This is proving harder than I thought. Maybe it”s because I shut her down at the shelter. Maybe I made her wary. Shit. Jesse should have asked Maverick to play detective. He”d win her over with just one smile.
I clear my throat. “My parents never cooked much fancy stuff. It was always basic stuff, you know.” I offer this insight, hoping it will inspire her to open up. Even mentioning my family is like a knife to the back. After what happened, they turned their backs on me so easily it was like someone tore a rug out from under me. It wasn”t anything I didn”t deserve, though.
She nods but doesn”t volunteer any information or ask me any questions.
She strokes Taffy, her fingers wary and gentle. “He”ll get used to that affection. You”ll have a friend for life.”
“I love animals,” she says. “I always wanted a dog. Or a cat. Even a fish… but my dad, well—”
I don”t reply because I know I”ve hit on something delicate. I want to leave her to fill the silence. She seems to be weighing up how to continue what she”s started but thinks better of it. When she”s been quiet for over a minute, I jump in again.
“I got a puppy on my tenth birthday and called him Mutt.”
“Was that what inspired you to want to become a vet?”
“Maybe. I used to like taking care of him. He got a thorn in his paw once. Took it out with tweezers. My first surgery.”
Taylor turns to gaze at the meadow to our left, which is alive with flowers.
“They”re early this year. The weather”s been warm.”
“They”re beautiful, especially the two-tone ones. They”re so perfect. I wish I could take some pictures.”
I take a chance. “Bring your phone next time. You”ve got a phone, don”t you?”
Taylor hesitates, but there”s something about being close but not looking into each other”s eyes that makes it easier to talk.
“Yeah.”
“You called your family yet?”
Her shoulders stiffen, and Taffy raises his head as though she has squeezed him with her legs. He’s picking up on her tension, so I pat his haunches for reassurance.
“My friend Natalie called me. My little sister, Molly, is with my dad and will be missing me. I called Natalie to see if she”s seen her, but she hasn”t.” Her voice tapers off, her worry palpable.
“Why don”t you just call your dad? Or your sister?”
Before she can answer, Sadie”s two calves appear, alerted by our approach.
“Look,” I whisper loudly and point in case she hasn”t noticed. She swivels her head and gasps with excitement. “Sadie”s babies.”
“Will she be ready soon?”
“I hope so.”
We walk on, but Taylor doesn”t return to our conversation, and the moment has passed where it was natural to ask more about her dad and sister. She didn”t mention her mom or nanna from the photo. I know from experience that secrets are sometimes best buried so deep that no one will ever find them. If she wants to tell me about her life, that”s up to her, but I”m not going to push, just encourage. If Jesse wants to know more, he”ll have to be the one to dig.
As we make our way over to where the others have dismounted, Taylor keeps her gaze ahead. Her neck has already gone pink in the sun, and her freckles are more intense. Maverick and Clint have hitched Bristol and Marv up to the shadiest post and are enjoying a long drink of cool water. Taylor”s eyes linger on the scene as both men lose their shirts. I”m used to the sight, but it”s new to Taylor. She stiffens between my legs, the work-toughened bodies of my friends having some kind of effect. I dismount first and hold out my hand for Taylor, then lead Taffy over to the other horses. When I strip my own shirt, Taylor”s attention drifts to me, eyes stroking over my skin like fingers.
“You did well, Tay, for your first time on a horse, even with Clint for support.” Maverick rubs his spread palm over the full length of his abs and pecs, preening in front of Taylor. He removes his hat and tips water over his head, pushing it through his hair and swiping it over his body.
“This isn”t a strip show,” Jesse grumbles. It isn”t something I”d do, but in this heat, the water sure looks good.
Taylor loosens her buttons, revealing a flash of white flesh and the bulge of her cleavage, which I try to tear my eyes away from. She fans her hand to create a breeze, and when she catches me looking, there”s a flicker of heat in her eyes, the same as last night. She unhitches the food basket and places it in the shade. “I don”t know how long it will be until it spoils.” She sounds concerned, but Jesse assures her we can eat early to keep our energy up.
“We”ve got a steer-branding early next week and we need to make sure these fences and stalls are up to the job. They”re powerful beasts.” Jesse”s already heading away towards the main pen.
“Yep, and they don”t like their backsides fried to a cinder. Smells like a smokehouse round here when it happens.” Maverick has no filter system, and Jesse throws him a glance back that could melt an iron bolder.
“You”ll scare the poor girl with stupid comments like that.” I lead the horses to a water trough, and they slurp and gulp the liquid thirstily.
“Sounds painful.” Taylor looks back at the way we came and then at the sun beating fiercely. The ranch house is way out of sight, so she”s going nowhere.
“It”s state law here, honey,” I tell her. “And it”s necessary to claim ownership in case they go wandering off or worse. You”ll get used to it. It doesn”t take long.” Hurting animals in any way has never sat well with me, but in some ways, it”s for their own good. Life on a ranch is a series of compromises. Business is business, and we”ve got to make a living.
Jesse”s arranging the tools he”s brought with him, strapped to his horse, the labor of today calling all our names. “We”re bringing in some farm hands, so you won”t actually need to get involved, but we”ll need you to go over to the bunk house later on and make sure the bedding is all clean and set up, get the bathroom cleaned, things like that.”
“I”m happy to give you a hand,” I add.
She nods, grateful.
Taylor watches while we get to work, lingering in the shade of a broad tree with the horses and our lunch. She smears sunscreen over her skin, drawing all our attention away from the fences. Her face glistens prettily as she blows her hair away from her warm face. The taste of her lips is still clear in my mind. Maybe bringing her wasn”t such a great idea if we”re all going to spend the whole day lusting rather than working. Reinforcing fences is hard graft, even with three of us, but Maverick keeps us laughing with his jokes, and having Taylor nearby is a sweet distraction.
At lunchtime, Taylor sets out the food and we enjoy a cool drink of juice to rehydrate. With late Spring more like summer, I can”t imagine what the summer season is going to bring, but I do know that I want Taylor to be here.
We eat all the savory food, and then Taylor passes the delicious baked goods around. I swear, if she doesn”t stop with all the sweet treats, I”m going to go from a six pack to a one pack in less than a month.
“You”re so good at baking,” Maverick moans, licking his lips lasciviously. Jesus. It”s like the guy”s acting out his very own porno.
“Thank you.” Taylor flushes and begins to pack away the rest of the picnic.
“I heard you mention something about starting a baking business last night,” Jesse says. It”s not a question as such, but the way he leaves it hanging is a hint for Taylor to elaborate.
Taylor chews her bottom lip, looking at the dirt in front of her. “Taylor-Made Bakes,” she says, like she”s confessing to a murder. I like the play on words.
“You don”t need to work. You know that, right?” Jesse says. “We do enough of that for all of us.”
Taylor”s gaze drifts to Maverick and then to me, searching for confirmation that we all feel the same. Do I want to lock her up in the house and fill her with children like Jesse? Not really. She”s still young, and everyone needs something in their lives they”re passionate about. Expecting a young woman to shelve her dreams so she can create domestic bliss for us feels shitty, like taking away a toddler”s favorite toy.
And anyway, the first kid is Jesse”s. That”s what we agreed, or rather, he dictated.
I rise before Jesse has more time to put his foot in it, or Maverick can gloss over the disquiet with a joke. “If you guys can finish here, I”ll take Taylor to the shelter. We have a few things to do.”
The staredown between Jesse and I is intense, but for once, he doesn”t push.
I help Taylor pack the rest of the food containers away and strap the basket back onto Taffy. She clambers onto his back with more finesse than earlier, a fast learner.
As I lead the way back to the house, I wonder how there will be any kind of resolution possible between two people with opposing dreams.