Chapter Nine
Nine
Tally wasn’t sure how long this could last with Marshall, but she was determined to make the most of it while she could. Her secrets would have to come out soon. She owed that to him. She hadn’t come here for this...and yet here she was. Indulging in the best sex of her life.
Sleeping in against his chest had been incredible, then making love, a combination she’d never expected to experience. Both passion and peace.
Waking up the second time to a text from baby Stella Rae’s mother that the infant had made it through the night and taken a decided turn for the better had sent Tally’s spirit soaring. Marshall had suggested they celebrate in the hot tub connected to the enclosed pool.
An enticing invitation too perfect to resist.
As she straddled his lap, the waters swirling around them, she lost herself in the rippling sensations of her fading orgasm. Marshall reclined back, his cast arm in a plastic sleeve he used for showering. His other arm banded around her, his hand stroking along her spine.
Thinking of the first day she’d seen him boldly—recklessly—in the pool to save his dog brought a smile to her face. She’d been deeply drawn to him that day, but she couldn’t have dreamed they would end up like this.
Her chest against his, her breasts tingled in the aftermath. She couldn’t take her hands off him, the wide expanse of his shoulders, his broad back, all of him.
Nugget curled up tight on the brown lounger. Mellow and content. A feeling Tally, too, understood. Felt take root in her chest. Even if somewhere in the back of her mind, the idea of living on borrowed time loomed. But she would not give that part of her mind any more attention. At least not now.
No. She anchored herself to the present. To the scent of musk and man. The feel of those soft lips, that strong back.
Tally pressed words onto his skin, hoping his body could soak up her gratitude. Her appreciation. “Thank you for being there for me last night.”
“My pleasure.” His voice rumbled in his chest against hers.
She laughed softly. “More than that. Thank you for understanding how upset I was. I wish I could have explained more, but when I volunteer at the hospital, I’ve agreed not to share details about the patients.”
“I understand about confidentiality.” He hesitated, his chin resting against her head. “It’s a core tenet of Alcoholics Anonymous.”
Her breath caught in her throat as everything went still inside her.
She wasn’t sure what to say and didn’t want to stop him from sharing what was on his mind by saying the wrong thing.
But the news that he was an alcoholic had rocked her the night he’d confided the truth.
His admission had touched her because of the level of trust he’d shown her.
But the knowledge that he suffered that way for the accident her father caused only made the deep river of guilt inside her threaten to overflow.
His hand continued to move along her back in rhythmic sweeps. “I need you to understand what it means to be an alcoholic.”
“I’m listening.” She kept her head against his shoulder, the waters swirling around them, leaving droplets on his skin.
“I’ve been dry for four years. But an alcoholic can never consider himself cured.” His arm twitched, holding her tighter. “I can attest to the fact that every day is a battle to stay sober.”
Once, she’d read if one violin was struck, the chord could be felt on another violin. A connection. An awakening. She’d never seen such a thing for herself, but believed in the image. Tally had that feeling right now—a shared reverberation as he spoke.
“It’s admirable that you’ve turned your life around.” Her father hadn’t been able to conquer his demons, and it cost him his life. How different might her world have been if he’d found his way to getting help? To turning his life around?
“I attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings regularly. I have a sponsor. They deserve the credit.”
She angled back to look him in the eyes. “You made the step to join and stick with it. That speaks volumes.”
His jaw went tight, and he shook his head. He hooked his arm around her waist and shifted her to the side, his cast arm resting along the back behind her shoulders. Their legs pressed against each other underwater.
She waited, letting him find his pace to share.
“I can’t take credit. I wouldn’t have even gone to AA if it had just been me in that hospital after my accident.
It was my life to throw away,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“But I didn’t tell you that in that accident I was drunk.
I’d ridden drunk before—but I always told myself it was my life.
But that time I was thrown, and the horse trampled one of the guys hauling my ass out of there. It landed us both in the hospital.”
“That had to have been so terrifying.” Just thinking about it made her stomach lurch.
“It was. He could have been killed.”
“You could have died, too.” A flicker of unease went through her as she thought of her father’s death wish. Had Marshall battled those same thoughts? Did he wrestle with that element still?
He cricked his neck from side to side. “After that, I retired from the circuit and got myself clean. I make guest appearances for charity, but there’s no way I can go back to the lifestyle.”
She shook her head, unwilling to let him blame himself for his arm. “But it was an accident. Accidents can happen to anyone.”
“Nuh-uh... It was avoidable. I was distracted.”
She narrowed her eyes, swiping aside damp hair clinging to the sides of her face. “By what?”
His ragged breath brushed her bare skin. “Thinking about my mom and sister who died.”
She flinched, in pain for him, and also as she was reminded again of her father and the secret she needed to share with Marshall. But now didn’t seem the right time. “I’m so sorry.”
“I should know that kind of distraction can happen at any time. It’s a big part of what drove me to the rodeo circuit. I was running from my family and reminders of what it used to be like.”
Guilt pierced her over her father’s role in that pain, such crushing loss.
She’d come here wanting to make amends, but now she realized that telling this family would also be a burden to them, dredging up the past at a time when they were already so raw because of the mysterious woman’s claim that Breanna was still alive.
The secret about her father would have to be told eventually; there was no avoiding that. But the fallout would be so much worse than she’d anticipated. Choosing the right time to tell Marshall weighed on her. Heavily.
Tally shivered in spite of the heated waters caressing her body. She’d come here for peace and to move forward with her life. And, instead, found herself stuck even deeper in the past.
Marshall slid his SUV into Park outside his father’s home, finding himself needing to alert his father to a tough decision—that he planned to go public about his alcoholism, an important step in moving forward with his life.
The past couple of weeks with Tally had been incredible.
It had been difficult for him to focus on work, instead drawn to spending as much time with her as possible—dinners out, walks in the snow, evenings making love by the fire.
The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted.
All the reasons it wasn’t wise grew harder to remember.
The icy water reflected the redwood mansion. The bay stretched with ice and hints of blue, deep as the sky above. Hard to believe life could get so complicated with views like this.
Yet here Marshall was, leading a very complicated life despite the simple beauty of this land.
He pressed the lock button on his SUV. Birds in the tall pine tree nearby took off as the beep resounded through the Steele family compound. His boots crunched through the snow toward the barn where his father had texted him to meet him.
With the expanded family, the barn on the grounds had been under what felt like constant renovation.
More stalls were needed for more horses.
He studied the newest section of the structure, aware of every change, from the higher ceilings and automatic feeders to the new flooring and drainage systems that kept the place clean.
More evidence that business as usual meant massive change and restructuring.
No doubt his father had adapted well—professionally and personally—after the way the Steele family had been emotionally devastated. More power to the old man.
Marshall thought about upgrading the old barn at his place and using it to expand the ranch, taking on more staff. Thanks to the success of his investments, he had the financial flexibility to grow the riding school and the stud farm. He wondered why he hadn’t considered it before.
Jack Steele lifted an orange bucket of feed at the back of the barn.
His puffy jacket brushed against the stall door.
His father’s dark hair appeared darker in the muted light of the barn.
The electric lights above had yet to be wired.
Willow, a paint horse, chewed lazily on a piece of hay as Marshall approached.
Wearing a black Stetson, Jack nodded in greeting. “Hello, son. Good to see you. What brings you over this way?”
Marshall’s eyes widened. How could his dad say everything and yet nothing?
Hands in the pockets of his jeans, Marshall shook his head.
He searched for the right words to share what was on his mind, and then realized how he always found his way best. “I thought we could go for a ride. Maybe I could try out the new mustang. Flash, right?”
Jack shot a pointed glance toward Marshall’s cast. “What about your arm?”