Chapter 5 #2
I make a sound I've never made before. One I didn't know I was even capable of making.
It's want and need and Oh god, please. His wicked voice, his filthy promise, the way his stubble scrapes the sensitive skin on my throat, the heat of his body against mine…
everything about him overloads my system, sending it spiraling into an erotic frenzy.
I didn't even take Mina's crazy dare last night and I think I might win it anyway.
Cord scoops me up into his arms and carries me out of the bathroom. I cling to his broad shoulders, my head spinning. His seems to be working just fine. Naturally. Disappointment flows through me when we cut through the bedroom and head back downstairs.
"You're not tying me up in your basement."
"Pretty baby, I don't even have a fucking basement," he says with a chuckle, carrying me into the living room. "I'm putting you on the couch so you can rest your ankle while I deal with that fucking bull."
"Oh," I breathe, relieved. And then worry sets in. "Wait, what do you mean by deal with the bull? You aren't going to hurt him, are you?"
"He charged you, and you're worried about me hurting him?"
"He's a bull. He was just being a bull," I point out.
"He's a menace is what he is," Cord mutters.
"I was in his territory. It's not his fault.
" Tears fill my eyes at the thought of him putting the bull down because of me.
It's a ridiculous reaction. This is a cattle farm.
I'm sure they probably lose cattle every day.
But Hamburger is different. Sure, he's the devil.
But he feels a little bit like…well, like family.
I've been reading about his antics every day for the last six weeks.
"Hey," Cord says, depositing me on the couch. He squats in front of me, frowning. "Don't cry, princess. I'm not going to hurt the damn bull."
"Promise?"
"You're really crying over the bastard?"
"No," I say, wiping my eyes to hide the evidence. "I don't cry, Cord Decker." I don't even know why I'm crying. This day has been one for the books. If I ever tell the girls this story, they're going to laugh themselves to death. I will never in the history of ever live it down.
"You're the cutest goddamn cattle thief I've ever met." I don't miss his soft expression. He thumbs my tears away, watching me intently.
"Cattle liberator," I sniff.
"I'm not going to kill him," Cord says, shaking his head. "I'm going to reinforce the damn barn door so the bastard doesn't break out and get himself killed in the storm, that's all."
I believe him. It's hard not to when he's looking at me like that.
"Hey, Cord?"
"Yeah?"
"Um, I'm glad you don't spend all your time in the basement playing video games and knitting socks for kittens," I whisper, and then hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.
A slow grin spreads across his face, his eyes lighting up. "We're done pretending now, Cassia?"
"Maybe," I say. "I'm still deciding."
He laughs quietly. "Where's your phone?"
"In my coat."
"Prop your foot up and watch TV," he orders me, standing up. "I'll go get your phone so you can let your friends and your brother know you're still alive. Guess I'll throw your shit in the washer while I'm at it."
"Thank you, bossy."
"Maybe I'll throw it in the trash instead," he mutters, his gaze raking over me.
"You better not!"
"Why not? You look better in my clothes anyway."
His comment lands like a blow. People have been making fun of my weight for most of my life. My own mom makes snarky comments all the time. It stopped bothering me a long time ago. But this one…hurts. And that pisses me off.
"Why? Because they hide my body?" I snap, scowling daggers at him. "The whole world doesn't look like supermodels. Some of us actually have real bodies. And you know what? I'm proud of my curves, even if they do offend you."
"What the fuck?" His dark brows slash together, a thunderous scowl overtaking his face. "You think your body offends me?"
"You said it, not me," I snap, wondering if I could get away with smothering him with a pillow. I mean, he'd probably put up a fight. But would a jury really convict after reading his ridiculous emails and hearing all about my morning at his ranch? Probably not. It's almost worth the risk.
"That's not what I meant, Cassia," he says, anger roiling like storm clouds in those gray eyes.
He's intimidating as hell when he's mad, yet I'm not intimidated.
"You've had my cock hard since I started stalking your social media weeks ago, princess.
But seeing you cuddled up in my clothes in my house has him ready to break in half.
So unless you're ready to do something about that, I suggest you settle your pretty little ass down before I fuck the attitude right out of you. "
"That…you…I…" I splutter, shocked silent for once in my life. It doesn't last long. "You've been stalking me on social media?"
He stares at me for a long silent moment and then he chuckles. "That's all you got from that, huh?"
"It's the only part I'm ready to deal with right now," I mutter defensively.
"Prop your foot up, pretty baby. I've got shit to do," he says, already headed for the stairs.
"Fine, but don't think we aren't talking about this later, Cord Decker!"
His laughter floats back to me.
* * *
I doze off on the couch before he makes it back with my phone. When I wake up, it's late afternoon, and I'm in the house alone. Snow falls in fluffy white flakes outside, blowing this way and that in the wind. It hasn't started accumulating yet, but it will before long.
I fire off a quick text to Emmy, letting her know that I'm fine and that I decided to stay overnight at the ranch because of the weather.
I leave out anything remotely resembling an actual detail and hope she's too busy writing to grill me for more.
When she doesn't immediately text me back, I know she's occupied and won't see it until later.
I also send a text to Rhys to check in. I don't get as lucky with him.
He responds immediately.
Rhys: Where are you staying?
Me: The Decker ranch.
Rhys: I don't like this, Cassia.
Me: That's because you're overprotective and a cop, Rhys. You don't like anything. I'm fine. The Decker family is wonderful.
Rhys: You know them?
Me: Yes.
It's not technically a lie. I might not know Cord well, but he did save me from his bull.
I'm pretty sure that means he isn't going to murder me and hide my body.
And I know he has a brother and a sister who live nearby.
That makes them a family. Does my brother need to know that Cord's brother and sister don't also live on the ranch? Absolutely not.
Rhys: What's the address?
Me: You do realize you're a detective in Washington, right? You have no power in California.
Rhys: The address, Cassia.
I grumble and then send him the address.
If I don't, he'll call me and raise nine kinds of hell.
I love him to death, but he's impossible.
Once he found out how our mother raised me, he lost his mind a little.
I think he feels guilty for not being there to protect me, but it wasn't his fault.
Had my dad wanted me, I would have jumped at the chance to live with him.
I don't blame Rhys for avoiding spending time with our mom.
Besides, it's not like he really had a say in the matter. His dad won full custody before I was even born. The judge thought he would be better off in his father's care. He was right. Rhys had a father who loved him and a stepmom who would have gone to war for him. I wasn't as lucky.
People always looked at my mom and assumed she was great because she's beautiful and elegant.
They envied her when they should have pitied her.
Beneath those false smiles and polite niceties lies the shriveled, trembling heart of a woman constantly facing her greatest fear: Aging and its inevitable consequences.
Love and empathy can't exist where fear and jealousy reign supreme.
It's not my size that bothers her, not really.
Nor is it my job or any one single thing.
It's the fact that she's getting older and can do nothing to stop it while I "waste" my youth and potential.
The fat, socially awkward daughter of a socialite pageant queen is an embarrassment to her legacy.
In her eyes, the way I choose to live my life is a personal slight.
But even if I were her perfect clone, she'd still find fault with me.
It doesn't matter if I'm happy because she isn't.
I prowl around until I find a bathroom downstairs to take care of business…
and then I prowl around because I'm insatiably curious.
Cord's home truly is beautiful. The hardwood floors gleam with polish, and there isn't a speck of dust to be found.
Either he's a neat freak or he has an amazing housekeeper.
"Holy crap," I whisper, staring in shock at a photograph on the mantle in the living room.
Cord's isn't the only familiar face staring back.
The giant to the left of him in the photograph is the same giant who wrangled Hamburger on Saturday, and the petite girl between them is Cleary, the sweet girl who gatecrashed our dinner last night.
She's Cord's sister. That's why she reminded me of him!
The giant is a sibling too. Staring at the photo, the similarities are unmistakable.
They share the same nose, the same lips.
Cleary is all smiles in the photo. Cord's lips are turned up into a crooked grin, his gray eyes light. The other brother isn't smiling though. He seems…sad? Pensive? I'm not sure either is quite accurate. He just seems unsettled. It's obvious he and Cord both adore Cleary though.
I hobble around, looking at all the other photos.
Some are funny, others are sweet. There are a lot of Cord and Cleary, and several of their brother in a military uniform.
Their brother has scars in more recent photographs but not the older ones.
He must have been injured while serving.
The older Cleary grows in the photos, the deeper Cord's scowl gets.
The patient affection in his eyes never wavers or diminishes though. He looks at his brother the same way.
I begin to put the pieces together in my mind as I look through the photos. Their parents died when Cleary was still a little girl. I think their brother was probably overseas, so Cord raised her. And then their brother was hurt too. That had to be so hard for him.
Seeing his life laid out like this, knowing he's the kind of man who would drop everything to raise his little sister is humbling.
My own father fled from the responsibility of raising me.
But Cord stepped up for his sister even in his own grief.
He held his family together when everything else was falling apart.
The last of my suspicions about him just… evaporate like water in the sun.
He's a good man. A bossy, grumpy, good man.
After I look through the photos in the living room, I start peeking in rooms down the hallway.
Aside from the bathroom, there's a home office that gives me major anxiety.
The rest of the house is spotless, but the office is a disaster.
Cord has paper stacked and scattered everywhere.
How he makes sense of it all, I don't know.
I don't even step foot into the room next door.
Expensive gym equipment fills the space, looking like modern-day equivalents of the medieval torture devices they were likely designed after.
I shudder in horror and quickly close the door.
Across from that is a game room with a pool table in the center of the room.
The laundry room is at the end of the hallway. I move my clothes from the washer to the dryer, excited over the prospect of having dry panties to wear. As nice as Cord's clothes are, and as much as I like that he likes me in them, I'd prefer not to soak through his sweats and embarrass myself.
"Crap," I groan when I see my wallet sitting on top of the dryer.
He probably looked inside to confirm my identity.
He knows for sure I'm not a cattle thief or liberator.
There's no going back now. I'm not even sure I want to go back anyway.
Cord is…not at all like I thought. He's infuriating and bossy and he drives me insane, yes.
But there's so much more to him. It's a little terrifying.
I think I'd feel better about the whole thing if he did spend all his time in the basement playing video games and knitting socks for kittens. At least then we'd be on a level playing field. But no. He's hot, successful, caring…all those things I've spent my whole life running from.
I can't run now, can I?
Even if I tried, I have a feeling he'd chase me down faster than his maniacal bull.
There's a reason he started emailing me.
There's a reason I'm here now. It's time to put my big girl panties on and figure out what that means.
For once in my life, I can't let the fear of turning out like my mother rule me. I've got to stay and face this cowboy.
Please don't let me regret it, I pray. Please don't let him break my heart.
I barely even know him, and yet I think if anyone has the power to do it…it just might be him.