29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Maci
T he drive to the ranch is quiet. Sutton doesn’t try to distract me from my thoughts, so I let them run free. My heart and brain are in a tug of war.
The sun is being chased from the sky in oranges, pinks, and purples as we pull onto the dusty driveway. Sutton lets us in the gate, closing it behind us to avoid a cow-tastrophe. When I tell him as much, he looks at me like I have three heads. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I laugh half-heartedly. “Maybe a little on edge.”
He reaches over the console and squeezes my thigh reassuringly.
The ride is bumpy and I watch out the window. We pass the fork we took left the first time Sutton brought me out, heading to the right instead. He continues to pass several smaller turn-offs before the road ends in a rounded area.
A beautiful, smokey blue ranch-style house greets us. With two windows on either side of the door, its symmetrical facade reminds me of houses I drew as a child. The sun setting toward the back left of the house adds to the memory. A handful of steps lead to the front door.
“Welcome to The Big House.”
“Sounds like a prison. ”
He smirks at me. “It’s the main house on the ranch. My parents’ house.” He barely pauses, sensing my unease. “Don’t worry, I have a private entrance.”
It’s a feat to maintain eye contact as he studies me, while I try to school my face. We haven’t exactly outlined what we’re doing and though I’ve met his mother, being out here now seems like a bigger step.
“I will gladly take you in to say hi to my parents.” My heart picks up. “But if you don’t want to or you’re not up for it, that’s fine, too. I had already planned to invite you to dinner tomorrow and there’s no reason we can’t wait until then. And they didn’t know about that or coming out now.”
His face betrays no emotion. Does he want me to come or is he being polite because he feels some need to protect me and I’m already here? I was beginning to think I’d gotten good at seeing through his composed facade to what simmers underneath, but I can’t tell what he wants.
It dawns on me. He’s doing it on purpose. He’s trying his hardest to let this be one hundred percent my decision.
“Family dinner.” A pang of envy filled me when he mentioned it before. Now I’m filled with apprehension instead. What would it mean to join family dinner?
“Yes.”
I look out my window to the front door of the house. “It won’t be awkward if we don’t go in until tomorrow?”
“They won’t even know you’re here. They don’t even know I’m here, minus my truck.”
“I think your mom will worry too much if she sees me now.”
He dips his chin down in agreement. “That, or question you to death. You know her well, already. Let’s get you settled then.” Still, I have no idea what he’s feeling. His expression softens and he squeezes my thigh again .
Sutton’s portion of ‘The Big House’ has two rooms, a bathroom, and a small hallway. The entrance leads into a tiny foyer. I suspect at one time it was an additional closet that was opened up during the remodel. A hat rack houses hats in various colors, fabrics, and styles, not a ball cap among them.
Who need s that many hats?
I refrain from questioning the hats, and will continue to do so as long as he doesn’t see fit to question me about my shoe collection.
The space has the feel of a cabin, with rich wood walls, leather and wood furniture throughout, and low lighting. Simple sconces line the hallway providing a soft amber glow.
His bed frame is made of cedar logs, sealed, and fit together with wood nails. It’s captivating and I take my time looking over it. The footboard and headboard are tangled limbs, all beautifully intertwined.
“This is gorgeous.” My fingers dance along the top of the footboard.
He doesn’t respond from his place just inside the bedroom door. I turn to look at him and find him studying me again, my bag in his hand. I’m sure he heard me, but I want him to know I’m serious. “It’s really lovely.”
His face is soft and hints at wonder as he studies me. “I made it.”
I gape. “You made this?” For the first time, his suntanned cheeks pinken. It’s hardly noticeable, but my heart beats a little faster anyway.
He sets my bag down inside the closet, removes his hat and boots, and sets both in the hall.
“I-I don’t know what to say. It’s amazing.”
He settles himself on the bed leaning back against the headboard. My mouth waters and my chest tightens. He’s never looked more like a masterpiece. I itch to take his picture.
He pats the bed next to him in invitation. I mimic the process of removing my boots then lay my puffy vest over the arm of the arm chair in the corner, removing my Smith & Wesson and setting it atop his dresser. The heat from his gaze is tangible.
When I climb onto the bed, I briefly see through the open bathroom door to the other room. I’m surprised to find a clawfoot tub in the bathroom beneath a suspended shower head and an enormous, hand-drawn map of Texas on his office wall.
I perch next to him facing the footboard. He wraps an arm around my waist and guides me closer to him. Instinctively, I rest my head against his chest and for a few moments we’re silent, his arms wrapped around my midsection, mine laying overtop.
Eventually, his quiet voice fills my ears. “Are you ready to tell me why you’ve been carrying a gun around?”
I swallow. “We live in Texas. It’s perfectly normal for people to carry guns here.”
He hums. “That’s not what I asked.” When I don’t respond, he tightens his hold around my waist in an affectionate way and continues. “I’ve met a lot of women who shoot and plenty who carry. That doesn’t tell me why you are.”
Ignoring the part of me that wants to know how well he knows said gun-toting women, I shift in his arms, attempting to create space, but his hold remains firm. When I stop shuffling, he moves a hand up to my face and turns my chin toward him gently. “I’m not going to push you. But I hope you know you’re safe.”
“I don’t carry it because of you.” He releases my chin, but our eyes stay locked. He’s studying me again. I drop my eyes. “In fact, I don’t carry it much when I’m with you.”
One of his hands moves to toy with the end of my ponytail. I’m beginning to think he has a thing for it .
“I got it as soon as I turned twenty-one. I had Mace before—when I was too young for the license to carry.” I fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, tracing the thread and then the outline of each button before moving to the next. Once again, he remains silent, allowing me to continue only when I’m ready.
“When I was a teenager, Stephanie and I were attacked outside of a grocery store here in town.” His fingers still in my hair.
Even before the attack, that day had felt incredibly long. All the shopping and arguing Stephanie and I had done was exacerbated by needing to finish with grocery shopping. We both wanted nothing more than to get home and be apart.
“A man in a ski mask got aggressive. It was never really clear what he wanted. He seemed more interested in me than her. He was rough, but I don’t think he planned to rape me. For starters, we were in the grocery store parking lot, but it was more like he wanted to scare me. Teach me some unclear lesson.” The only thing I learned was that no one else could protect me.
“What happened?”
“After?” I take a deep breath. “A couple saw what was happening. The man ran to help us and the woman called the police. The guy in the mask ran off around the car and no one ever saw him again.”
I push up to sitting and Sutton releases me this time. Anger pulses through me as I remember the conversation with my mother recently. “It was because of my step-father.” Venom seeps into my voice.
Sutton’s eyebrows pull together and he sits upright. “He set it up?”
“No.” I shake my head. The next part comes out more for myself. “I can’t believe she kept it from me all those years! ”
Confusion morphs into frustration on his face. “Who? Your mom knew?”
I nod solemnly. My emotions are erratic. A part of my brain whispers how much has happened in the last few weeks that I’ve yet to deal with, and another part is telling that part to sit down and shut up. My mouth carries on anyway. “My step-father, Alan, apparently had a gambling problem. It resulted in a huge debt and they threatened us, so he and my mom were discussing moving. She said he managed to pay off the money and they thought all was said and done until the attack. So we moved to Austin. To get away.”
Sutton’s jaw is the tightest I’ve ever seen. He’s waiting for me to continue, still as can be in his spot against the headboard.
“My mom froze. During the attack. It was panic, I’m sure. I did for a few seconds, too. Afterward, I decided I would never be without an option to protect myself in the future.”
He nods his understanding. “You carry it all the time?”
“Not all the time. Obviously, there are some places I can’t take it legally, so it stays in my car. But yeah, most of the time I have it.” I feel my face flush. “I even bought specific clothing with built-in holsters for women.”
His eyes gleam and I detect a little bit of satisfaction coming off him.
“The vest,” I gesture to the couch, “a couple pairs of pants, and a few shirts have hidden areas in the waist or around my ribs…”
He reaches out and rubs my thigh with one hand. “My Firecracker. Ready to go off at any time.” His mouth tips up and I grin at him. Partially at his comment, but even more so because of his use of my .
Later, we grab barbecue takeout and eat on the couch.
“So tell me about life on the ranch.”
Sutton chews slowly watching me. “What do you want to know?”
I smirk. “I know you don’t like talking about yourself, but what do you do out here?”
He stares.
“You have a horse, I assume.”
“Yea. Johnny Walker.”
I snicker. “Okay. And what about Strickland Ranch?”
Sutton’s lips tip up at the corner.
“Don’t. I know what a cattle ranch is. At least, reasonably. I want to know what a day is like for you.”
He takes a deep breath. “No day is the same. We have two herds. They aren’t very big, but if we get the land I told you about, we’ll be expanding the herds. Maybe add another.”
“What’s ‘not very big’?”
He sets his food aside. “Each is about seventy-five pairs. Cow and calf. We rotate the herds as to which group is calving. One is a spring season and one is a fall season.”
“That seems like it takes considerable planning.” I close my container and leave it in my lap. “Is that your responsibility?”
“Some of it.” He runs a hand through his hair, something I don’t get a chance to see him do often because it’s usually in a hat. I get the impression it’s a smidge of discomfort at talking about himself shining through. “I’ve done just about every job on this ranch at some point. My dad wanted me to understand the importance of each step. I wanted to know all the ins and outs. So I’ve done most of it. Now I’m on the top end.” I smile at him to continue. He clears his throat. “Johnny Walker started as a cutting horse. His role is to help separate animals from the herd.”
“Is he good at it?”
Sutton raises an eyebrow at me as if he’s offended I would even ask. I throw my hands up. “Fine, he’s a rockstar.”
He laughs. “Yeah, he enjoys it. I don’t help as much anymore. Most of what I do is big-picture. But sometimes big-picture is helping deliver a calf and sometimes it’s planning for next season.” He frowns in contemplation. “I’ll need to find another me once we expand.”
“It sounds like it can be really stressful.”
He reaches over to play with the end of my ponytail. “Sometimes. But I wouldn’t live any other way.” His eyes are trained on mine, but in their depths I know he’s visualizing his family’s ranch and their impending expansion.
My heart tugs. “That’s how I feel about photography.”
“It sounds like you’ve done well building from the ground up.”
I stack our takeout containers back into the bag and rummage through my duffle to pull out my familiar ribbed pajamas and bathroom bag. “It’s taken a lot of work to get where I have steady clients. But I love having a different day all the time, being able to dive into creativity and saving special moments for people.”
“You travel a lot?”
“Not much. I could, but I’ve found a few locations I really like and if I’m not at a family’s location, we usually go to those.”
He contemplates and it seems like his next question isn’t really what he wants to know. “Ever want to get into weddings?”
I laugh. “No way. I did some when I first assisted. They’re lovely, but high stakes and way more stress than I care to deal with regularly.”
He grins and I slip into the bathroom .
After changing and cleaning up, I pull my hair out of its ponytail. There’s no subduing the wave created by the elastic.
A tiny burst of nerves rushes through me. Sutton’s seen me dressed down, but not climbing into his bed.
I exit the bathroom and store my things into my duffle bag, trying to ignore Sutton and the bed’s existence for a moment. When I finally turn, I’m stunned.
Sutton’s eyes rake over me, but that’s overshadowed by him being barely dressed. He’s removed his shirt and his defined chest and arms are gloriously displayed, the blanket drawn to his waist. I’d love to pull it back.
“I can sleep on the couch if you’re more comfortable.” His low voice douses my growing heat.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I sit on the bed. “I mean, I should make you since you forced me here.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Begging is better. Got it.”
My core throbs. I clear my throat. “Not what I mean.” I lean against the headboard, staring across the room and attempting to slow my racing heart.
“If you behave, you can come closer.”
My head whips to him. His right arm is extended to me as he grins playfully. I give an exaggerated eye roll and slide closer. Before I settle against his side, Sutton reaches across with his other hand, tipping my chin to face him.
“I’m gonna kiss you now.” He leans his head down and I stretch to meet him.
There’s no stopping the moan that rises from my throat when our lips press together. His mouth is warm and tender. A small part of my brain is shouting that I’m already in too deep and I need to back out. I couldn’t if I wanted to, though. Which I don’t .
“I’ve needed to do that all day.”
“Needed?” I relax into his side and lay my arm across his torso. He’s on fire and it does nothing to dampen my desire to climb onto him and explore.
“Oh, it’s a need.” He brushes his fingers up and down my arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll behave.”
I wish you wouldn’t. “You don’t scare me.”
“And I never want to.”
Sutton turns off the lamp on his nightstand. His grip on my waist tightens and his other arm rests along my own. I’ve never felt so safe.