Chapter 5
cade
When Noelle called me, I’d almost said I couldn’t make it.
Everyone is struggling with calving season, and I don’t have the time to drag my ass to Dunn’s.
But then she tells me Sarah is there with Bodie, and for reasons I don’t care to examine too closely, I ask my ranch foreman’s sister to sleep in the guestroom in case Evie wakes up, then head out.
It’s been a couple of tense hours. I should be in the Dunn kitchen drinking the coffee Noelle is making because the first light of morning is spilling across the canyon, turning mud and manure to shades of gold, and I need to get back to Blue Rock.
But I stand outside the barn, leaning against an oak tree, waiting for her.
I see Lyle talking to her, and a part of me, the one that used to be her man, even though I was only a boy then, wants to make sure he isn’t being harsh with her—but that boy is long gone.
She killed him.
I watch her take a deep breath and walk out of the barn, her bag slung over one shoulder, her hair mussed up, her coveralls streaked with blood and straw.
She looks dead on her feet, but she’s hanging in there. That kind of resilience develops from doing the work over the years.
When Billy came to me and said that Bodie was gone and Lucile, a heifer, was in distress, I told him to get Sarah. She didn’t tell him to fuck off—which, truth be told, most folks would’ve after the welcome she got from Lyle and Noelle…and me.
Instead, she rolled up her sleeves and did the damn work.
“She’s somethin’ else, Cade.” Billy’s eyes are wide, and I can see he’s already half in love with her. A pretty face that knows her way around cattle—hell, that’s every cowboy’s wet dream.
She looks fragile and ethereally beautiful as she walks to her daddy’s truck.
I feel anger surge through me. She has no right to be this woman—one I want to respect.
Riding on temper, I step out from the shadows just as she opens the door of the passenger seat and drops her bag in.
“Stay away from my people, Sarah.”
She slams the door shut and walks to the driver’s side.
“Sarah,” I call out.
“What?” she snaps. “You got a problem with me being here? Take it up with Bodie.”
I didn’t expect that. The Sarah I remember was soft around the edges, quick to soothe, quick to laugh. This Sarah meets you head-on, her chin lifted.
“And I got paid very well for saving Lyle’s calf, so maybe point your anger somewhere else.”
What the fuck are you doing talkin’ to her, Cade?
I have no clue. I just….
“They’re desperate, that’s all it is. They’d call Ted Bundy if he could take care of their cattle.”
It’s cruel. It’s insulting. This is not who I used to be. But then she’s not who she used to be, either. That Sarah was soft, easily hurt. This woman is not my Sarah.
She laughs, proving to me that she really isn’t the person I used to know. “Did you just call me a serial killer?”
I did, and that was dumb as fuck.
“You don’t belong here,” I bite out. It sounds lame, even to me.
“All evidence to the contrary.” She smiles at me, it’s sarcastic as fuck. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to head home.”
“Your father’s home. The man who threw you out.”
That hits, and I feel no pleasure at seeing her eyes glaze over with pain. I have no idea why I’m here talking to her, why I’m pushing her, why I’m pushing myself.
“Really? Then you must wonder why he left me everything,” she retorts.
“Cade.” Noelle’s voice reaches me, loud, screechy, not husky and somber like Sarah’s.
“Your girlfriend is calling. Go.”
“Jealous, Sarah?”
There’s a flicker of something broken in her eyes. I like seeing it, like knowing that I affect her because she’s certainly fucking with my head. But then she lets out a laugh, it’s clean, and it fucks with my mind in a way I don’t like.
“Like hell.”
I step closer to her. I can smell her—orange blossoms, along with antiseptic. “You should be jealous. She’s the kind of woman people approve of. The kind they’ll never whisper about behind her back.”
She rolls her eyes. “You lookin’ for a prize, Cade, or a partner?”
My teeth grind together. “At least she isn’t going to leave me in ruins.”
Her hazel eyes flash. “Of course not, that was your wife, wasn’t it? The drunk driver?”
The words punch the air from my lungs. My voice breaks loose, loud, raw. “Don’t you dare. Evie was in that car. Don’t you fucking use….”
She freezes, color draining from her face. “Evie—”
“Don’t say my daughter’s name,” I thunder at her. “She survived what her mother didn’t. It was a miracle. And you don’t get to throw that in my face.”
Her hand shakes slightly as she grabs the car door handle.
For the first time since I stepped out of the dark, she looks less like steel and more like the woman I used to know—the one who cared, who hated hurting anyone.
“Cade, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
And the damn thing is, I believe her. She means it.
I hate that I can still read her that way. Hate that even after everything, she can cut straight to the place I keep buried deepest.
Nothing has changed between us.
Except I remember her. And God help me, I miss what we had like it was yesterday.
She gets into the truck and drives away. I watch her taillights all the way to the end of the long driveway of the Dunn ranch, feeling regret gnawing inside me. I just am not sure what it is that I’m regretting.
I go home, get Evie ready for school, and then head to work.
I’m tired but no more than I’ve been for the past few days.
Usually, by the time I get to bed, I’m exhausted. I’m a single dad. I worry about my kid. My ranch. My body is dead tired, but my mind keeps working the pens, checking the fences, and counting the calves.
But now, when I lie in bed, I remember her. Remember all that she meant to me.
I close my eyes. I can feel her when I do.
She smells like wildflowers, her hair falling in tangles around her face as she laughs against my mouth. The summer heat is making the air feel thick. Dust motes float like fireflies in the shafts of moonlight through the boards.
Blue Rock is empty. Dad and the hands are away at an auction. It’s just Sarah and me.
She trembles as we kiss because we’ve decided to go all the way.
“Cade,” she whispers as I cup her breasts.
She’s my first. I’m hers. I’m aching for her. Wanting her. But I’d rather cut my hand off than hurt her.
She breathes heavily, her voice barely a whisper, "Cade, I...I'm ready."
My voice is husky with desire. "Are you sure, Dove? We don't have to—"
"I want to." Her eyes meet mine, pupils dilated with a mix of fear and excitement. She pouts…looking adorable. I kiss her mouth tenderly.
“But…I am scared,” she admits.
“Me, too.”
“Why?”
“Because…I want it to be good for you.”
She smiles. “It will be.”
“Yeah?”
“Because I’m with you. Everything is good when it’s you and me.”
Her breath hitches as I kiss the hollow of her throat, my hands touching her in all those special places.
I’ve made her come before, which I’m grateful for. I love the smell and feel of her when she orgasms, love how she clenches around my finger.
When we’re together, there’s no shame, no lies.
It’s so fucking pure that it makes me feel clean, not like how my friends talk about fucking. This is not that. This is making love…with my beautiful Sarah. This is us coming together for the first time.
I know in my heart she’ll be my last as she’s my first.
"You're shaking," she says softly, gasping when my fingers brush the hem of her blouse.
"So are you." I slide her blouse off her shoulders to reveal her small, perfect tits, the nipples already hard and begging for my touch.
Her head falls back as my calloused hands cup her, squeezing gently.
"Cade...," she whimpers.
My jeans are so tight that the denim is digging into my throbbing erection.
I help her out of her blouse and then her skirt, her underwear. When she’s naked in front of me, I marvel at how lucky I am.
"God, Sarah, you're so beautiful."
“Yeah? Now, show me you.”
We’ve seen parts of each other, but we’ve never been completely naked together. I remove my clothes as she watches, her eyes widening. She’s touched me with her hands, made me come, so she shouldn’t be surprised, but she is when she looks at me.
“That’s way bigger than a tampon.”
I chuckle softly, my hips bucking into her hand as she wraps her fingers around me.
“Dove, don’t…not too hard.”
Her touch softens immediately. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. It’s just so good, and I…I want to come inside you this first time.”
“Okay.” She lets go of me.
I push her down gently onto the rug, the flames from the fireplace cast flickering shadows over our bodies.
Slow down. Slow down. Slow down.
I tell myself repeatedly.
I don’t want to hurt her. I want her to feel pleasure. I want her to come.
My mouth finds her neck, sucking and biting as my hands slide down her belly. Sarah moans, her hips lifting as my fingers tease her through her slick folds.
"Cade...," she whispers, her whimpers turning into desperate cries. "Please...."
"Please, what, Sarah?" My voice is ragged as I slide a finger inside her.
She’s warm. Wet. Wonderful.
"I need you, Cade. Please," she begs, her thighs trembling.
I crawl down her body and lick her.
She gasps.
I’ve never done this before, but I want to. I’ve licked my fingers after I’ve made her come, and she always tastes so good that I want her to come on my tongue, gush into my mouth.
My friends don’t care how their girls fake it sometimes because for them it’s all about their pleasure. But not for me. Sarah’s pleasure is mine. When she comes, I feel like a fucking king. We’ve been practicing for months—and now I know what buttons to push. I know my Sarah’s body. I know her.
When she unravels, I feel it again, this piercing joy of making the woman I love happy.
“Now, Cade. Now.” She’s desperate for me, and I am for her as well.
I find the condom I set aside and roll it over my cock. I practiced this several times in the past months, so I was ready for her. I didn’t want to be clumsy, didn’t want her to feel anything but safe with me.
“Can I do that the next time?” she asks, watching mesmerized.
I harden more at her words. I don’t know how that is possible, but it happens.
“Yes,” I murmur hoarsely. The truth is that I’ll give her anything she wants, anything she asks. I’ll lay my life down for her.
I position myself over her, the tip of my erection brushing against her dripping entrance. I pause and look into her eyes. "Are you sure, Dove?"
"Yes," she breathes, her nails digging into my back as she urges me to fill her.
I do so, slowly. She’s so tight.
Virgin like me.
It takes time, more than I expected, to slowly fill her. When she finally eases around me, I go balls deep.
"Are you okay?" I kiss her lips, her nose, her forehead. I know I hurt her, probably still am.
My Dove smiles. “Yes, Cade.”
She softens around me, her wetness urges me on.
My hips move in slow, deep strokes, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through me and, based on her moans, through her.
“Dove, does it feel good? Does it hurt?”
Her cries of pleasure mingle with the crackling of the fire. “It’s…I’m so full…I’m so…Cade, this is the closest I’ve ever been to you.”
“Yes,” I groan.
My rhythm quickens. I can’t help it. I want her so much, all the time.
I need to touch her, hold her, talk to her, and now that I’ve been inside her, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.
Her hips move in tune with mine.
“Does it hurt?” I ask again.
“Yes…and no.” She can barely form words.
I feel her getting ready to come again, and it’s a wonder because it took weeks for me to learn how to make her orgasm with my fingers.
“Dove.” I pump in and out of her. "I can't hold back much longer."
A part of me isn’t sure that I can wait for her, but I want to.
I’ll always wait for her.
I slip my hand between us, find her clit, and start to thrum it.
The whole act is awkward, but the reward is stupendous because she starts to moan and then suddenly, out of nowhere, her orgasm strikes like a tidal wave, her body convulses around me, and she screams my name.
Nothing has ever felt this good in my life before.
With a final, deep thrust, I come undone, my climax tearing through me as I spill into her.
We collapse together, our bodies damp with sweat, our hearts racing.
I hold her close. She’s the most precious thing in my life. "I love you, Dove."
She smiles, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggles closer to me. "I love you, too, Cade. Always."
I sit up as those old words crawl through me in the half-dream state I’m in.
I wake with the ghost of her laughter still in my ears and the ache of her name caught in my throat.
And it guts me. Because I can’t decide what hurts worse, remembering what we’d had…or knowing I’ll never have it again…with anyone.
That’s when I hear the soft patter of little feet on the hardwood. “Daddy?”
The bedroom door creaks open. Evie pads in, her hair sticking up in every direction, clutching the ragged stuffed cow I got for her for her second birthday.
I lift the duvet, and she scrambles up, small and warm against me.
“Bad dream?” I murmur, brushing her hair back.
She nods solemnly. “There were coyotes. They tried to eat Dolly.” She holds up the stuffed cow for proof, eyes wide and serious.
“Coyotes don’t come in houses.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Besides, you know your daddy will scare them off.”
She gives a little giggle, muffling against my T-shirt. “You’d yell really loud, and they’d all go running.”
“Damn right.”
Her small body wriggles as she tries to get comfortable, tucking Dolly between us. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be a cow doctor like the pretty lady.”
I feel like a bull is standing on my ribcage.
“What lady?” I ask unnecessarily. I know who she means.
“Dr. K. She’s the one who was fixing Bluebell’s leg.” She yawns. “She was nice. I like her.”
I close my eyes and let out a long breath.
Sarah again. Always Sarah. In my daughter’s thoughts, just like in mine.
Evie’s breathing evens out. Her little hand is curled over my heart like she owns me, which she does. And for a while, the ache dulls. Because no matter what nightmares claw at me—past or present—this little girl comes first. Always.
I pull my baby close, tucking the duvet tighter around us and letting sleep take us both under.