35. Monroe
35
MONROE
M y limbs are vibrating against my sides. Rosie dabs Dolly’s forehead with a damp rag.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t call an ambulance?”
“She’ll wake up at any minute. An ambulance will mean a report, maybe even police.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong. It was self-defense.” I hug myself, a chill running over me as the clouds above us grow darker. I don’t know what to do with my hands.
Dolly gasps, eyes flipping open as she tries sitting up. Rosie pushes her shoulders back down. She’s lying in the middle of the driveway, where she collapsed. The frying pan she used to whack my stalker over the head is beside her, coated in mud.
“Hold on. Hold on. You’re okay. You passed out. How dare you exert yourself like that! Your gimpy heart wasn’t built to attack grown men with a cast iron!” Rosie is crying now, cupping Dolly’s face with her hand.
I drop down to my knees, tears pricking my eyes. Cash told me how much he worries about Dolly one night while we were lying in bed after spending the evening with his siblings. I could see in his eyes the fear he held for his sister, knowing how fragile she is. I reach out and grab her other hand, a sob choking me.
“I can’t believe you did that for me. You really risked your life to save me …” Sobs rack my body as I curl over her.
Her voice sounds weak. “Hey. Hey now. It wasn’t that bad. I couldn’t very well let him take you, now could I? God only knows what that freak had planned.” She pats my arm, trying to reassure me. She exhales a slow, steady breath. A smile pulls on the corner of her lips, but I only cry harder. “Cash would’ve beat my ass if I had.”
I sniffle, wiping the tears from my cheek with the back of my hand. “I’ve never seen a woman wield a frying pan like that. You’re a badass. Maybe I should’ve hired you as a bodyguard.”
Rosie laughs, reaching out to grab my hand. “You will learn quickly that the Redford family is a force to be reckoned with, even this little thing. Speaking of, I need to call Holden. Maybe they’ll be able to catch him.”
Rosie shifts Dolly’s head over to me before she stands up, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. I cradle Dolly against my bent knees. Raindrops spill from the sky. My wrist aches from where he tried to drag me to his van. My cheek smarts from where he slapped me in the face for screaming.
“I think I can get up. Let’s go inside. Who knows if he’ll come back?”
She grips my hand, and I help pull her up. She leans against me, walking into the main house through the ajar front door.
“Do you need some water? Or food?” I ask her, studying the side of her face, where the color is finally starting to return.
She sighs. “I think once I sit down, I could try to eat something.”
Rosie is on the phone in the kitchen. She points to the living room. “Take her to the couch. I’ll bring her a sandwich.”
I support Dolly’s slim frame and guide her to the sofa. She collapses on it, laying her head back and exhaling.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance? I can cover the cost if?—”
She shakes her head, closing her eyes. “It’s not that. If they catch him, we can’t have the cops here. We’re not exactly well liked by the authorities in this town.”
I stare at her. “If they catch him, what’s going to happen?”
She opens her eyes, turning her face to me. “If they’re able to find him, Cash won’t hold back. He cares a lot about your safety.”
I chew my bottom lip.
Rosie brings in a sandwich on a plate with a glass of ice water. Her face is pinched with concern, her phone pressed up to her cheek with her shoulder. She leaves us the food and water before turning around to go back into the kitchen.
I hand the plate to Dolly, who takes a bite, chewing slowly.
“You mean, Cash would, like, hurt him? ”
“Would you want my brother to let him go?”
I shake my head. I never really thought that far. I assumed that if we ever caught the stalker, we’d let the authorities handle it.
“Well, if you just call the cops, they’re going to want evidence of a crime before they can make an arrest. If we could prove he was the man who’d been stalking you, we might have something to go on. But that’s not likely, based on what Cash told me. To get a criminal conviction, you have to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt in criminal court that he broke a law. Did he? I’m more likely to get in trouble for assault at this point.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
She scoffs. “You’d be shocked at how the law works with these things. I bet he has a gash on his forehead. He’s the one with an injury, so it will automatically make me the bad guy. We have a good lawyer, but …” She shakes her head before slowly sipping on the water.
Rosie walks into the living room, a pistol tucked into her waistband. “I know the mood has been thoroughly killed, but is anyone up for ice cream?”
Dolly laughs, shaking her head. “Monroe probably thinks we’re the craziest people she’s ever met.”
I don’t want to say it out loud, but she’s right.
“I’m just glad I have friends who know how to use a frying pan.”
The girls both laugh.
Dolly reaches over to grab the half-drunk bottle of white wine. “She can’t drink it, so it’s up to us to knock this one out. ”
She takes a swig right from the bottle before handing it to me. I do the same, a tiny burst of belonging sprouting up inside my chest.
It’s several hours later before the guys get home. When Cash walks through the door, I gape at his wet, mud-covered clothes. Blood trails down his side, and he’s leaning to the left, like he’s injured somehow.
His hands are damp, like he just washed them outside. His brothers and their friend Sam file in one by one, faces somber. They’re all filthy and soaked. Holden immediately goes to Rosie, sighing deeply as he crushes her against his chest in an embrace.
Cash approaches me on the sofa. He reaches out, brushing my hair behind my shoulder. His eyes are creased as he studies me from head to toe. I can see the question in his eyes that he doesn’t voice.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “Why are you bleeding? Are you okay?”
He exhales, cupping my cheek in his big hand, calluses scraping my skin. My heart melts like a marshmallow over a fire. The look in his eyes is a mix of rage, desire, and relief. He thumbs over the bruise forming on my cheek and fusses over the red mark on my wrist.
He bends down, dropping to one knee in front of me. “ You’re safe now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. “He can’t hurt you again.”
“What did you do?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
My body sinks into him. I look down at the blood still seeping through his soiled shirt.
He pulls back, flexing his jaw and dropping his hand from my face. “I’ll tell you, if you really want me to, but I’m not sure you want to know.”
“Is he gone … for good?”
He nods. His hand curls around my waistline, gripping me tightly, like he just doesn’t want to let go. My chest caves in.
“I’m sorry I left you … unprotected. This was my fault.” His green eyes darken.
“No, it wasn’t.” I shake my head. “You can’t be my bodyguard forever.”
My throat tightens when I realize he could have easily died, trying to protect me. Any of them could have, and yet not a single one backed down from the fight or told me to get out, to handle my own problems.
I glance over at Dolly. Duke and Sam are with her on the edge of the couch. Sam is pressing two fingers to her neck, right beneath her jawline. Her eyes are trained on his face.
“Her heart rate is a little fast,” he says.
“We should take her in, just to get looked at,” Duke says.
Sam pulls back, folding his arms and studying her.
Dolly shakes her head. “I’m okay. I’ll schedule my biannual checkup a little early when the office opens on Monday, but the ER won’t do anything helpful. If I was about to kick the bucket, I promise I would tell you. ”
Rosie nods. “I’ve been monitoring her. Her heart rate is always a little fast.”
Duke looks at Sam. “What do you think?”
Sam shrugs. “I’d take her in if it were my call.”
“But it’s not,” Dolly snaps.
I’m with Sam on this one, but I don’t voice my opinion since she seems to have made a decision.
Duke pins her with a glare. “Sam’s grandfather has had heart problems for years. He knows the signs to watch out for, Dolls.”
“And Rosie is a nurse! If I were dying, she would tell you to take me in.”
“I can tell you what’s not good for her heart is all this screaming. Let’s just chill for a night and reevaluate in the morning. Okay?” Rosie goes over to Duke and lays a hand on his forearm.
He finally nods, retreating toward the hallway and mumbling something about needing a shower.
“I need to wash up too. You want to come help me?” Cash tugs on my hand, pulling me to a stand. He winces, his mouth forming a hard line.
I nod, following him toward the back door in the kitchen that leads to the bunkhouse.
“We’re going to bed,” Cash calls over his shoulder.
“Night, girls. Thank you … for everything,” I say.
“Night, Monroe.” Dolly smiles.
“Try to get some sleep,” Rosie adds.
Cash pulls me up under his arm without the blood, tucking me close as we walk. I look up at the night sky, studying the array of bright stars that can only be seen way out here in the sticks.
“I can’t believe he’s really gone.”
He grunts, “I can’t believe he set foot on my fucking property to hurt my—” He stops himself, pulling me tighter as we continue walking.
“Your what?” I can’t help but ask.
When we get to the front porch of the bunkhouse, he still hasn’t answered. He twists the doorknob, leading me inside. He carefully checks each room, closet, behind the shower curtains, and every possible hiding place.
I wait in the kitchen, tracing over the edge of the granite countertop. He steps up close to me, brushing his hands over both my arms, pricking goose bumps on my skin with the contact. Just his touch makes me feel electrified.
“My woman,” he says.
I look up at him, letting the caveman words sink into me. He stares down at me, eyes trailing over my lips and down my body.
I chew my lip. “What do you mean by?—”
“You heard me,” he cuts me off, hands reaching down behind my legs to grip the back of my knees and lifting me up onto the kitchen counter.
His lips are on mine in the next moment, tasting me. I close my eyes, feeling his hard, muscled arms under my fingertips. I wrap my hands around his neck. His tongue brushes against my lips, asking to come inside. I let him, loving the way he’s gentle but persistent with me. I know I can stop him at any time.
He presses into me, his impressive erection thrusting against me. I reach down, gripping him over his Wrangler jeans.
“Off—now,” I beg.
He chuckles against my lips before pulling back to unbutton his jeans and tugging them down over his hips. He’s still filthy, covered in mud and what I’m now realizing are drops of blood.
I don’t care. I want him in me now .
He reaches up to pull my T-shirt over my head. I’m wearing a sports bra underneath, and he peels that off, too, before reaching for the sweatpants around my hips. I lift up to allow him access. He tears off the pants and my underwear with one tug. He removes his shirt, and I gasp at the sight of the wound on his ribs. It’s a long, bloody gash. Before I can even begin to fuss over him, his fingers find my sex, discovering that I’m already dripping wet for him. I roll my eyes back in my head, a scold caught on my tongue.
“God, you feel good, baby.” His head dips down to press against the side of my face.
He grips my hips, jerking me to the edge of the counter before positioning the head of his dick against my entrance. The tip brushes over the wetness pooling at my opening, teasing me. I’m staring down at the point between us and the blood trickling down onto my thigh, but he grips my chin and tilts my head up so that I’m looking into his eyes.
“Eyes on me,” he says, shoving his dick into me at the same time.
I gasp, suddenly full of him to the hilt. I love it, every sensation sending me up a mountain of pleasure. My arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, gripping him tightly as he fucks me hard and raw against the kitchen cabinet.
“Fuck, baby, you feel like home,” he breathes into my neck.
I’m flailing, grasping for some kind of landing and missing the mark. I’m falling into the abyss of getting fucked by a man like Cash, a man who’s done heinous things to protect me from evil, still bleeding from his battle wounds. My head falls back against the upper cabinet. He drives into me, his dick reaching the back of my channel, claiming every last inch of me as his.
“This is my pussy—you hear me? Mine. ” His dirty mouth is against my ear, coating me with his possessive words.
I’m defenseless against him, succumbing to his claim, both physical and emotional.
“It’s yours. I’m yours.” I gasp, tearing down my walls with each word.
He moans into my neck. His fingers move between us, brushing over my clit. I feel myself reaching a climax. I can’t believe it’s already happening, except that his actions over the last few hours were all the foreplay I ever needed.
He suddenly jerks back, abandoning me. I gape at his retreating back. I’m trying to regain my sanity when he returns a few seconds later, ripping a condom open with his teeth. The wound is bleeding more now, but he must not feel the pain because a second layer, he rolls the condom on before seating himself inside me again. I watch his face as his eyes focus on me. He leans forward, resuming the position we had before, with his thumb on my clit and his face pressed against mine .
His other hand curls up around the side of my neck, gripping me tightly. He’s panting into my ear, pounding me so hard that I feel like he might split me in half. I’m nearing climax when his voice rumbles into my ear.
“Blue … I love you.”
He moans one last time before he comes, pulsing inside me on the crest of his words.
My orgasm rushes through me at the same moment, his words shocking my system, but unable to stop the wave of pleasure washing over me.
I pant for oxygen, eyes searching his.
Shit, shit, shit … did he just say he loves me?