Chapter 24 #2
West jerks his head once and pivots to face the other direction. His eyes scan the tree line, but nothing moves toward the clearing. Not that I blame the wolves for staying back. Faced with him, I would, too.
Cord reaches out to tweak the decorative white ears on the new version of my wolf blanket that comes complete with tiny handmade tassels. “Someone left one like that at my place once,” he muses softly. “I was hoping she might come back and collect it.”
“You don’t want me there,” I blurt.
His gaze lifts to meet mine. “No?”
I shake my head, all too conscious of West listening in on our conversation. Fight. Whatever the hell this is. “I’ve started thinking in your voice,” I mutter, staring down at my thermos, and nudge it with the toe of my boot.
Cord starts to bend down. Breath hisses between his teeth. “Fuck. No, don’t help me,” he grits out when I reach for it, too.
“You stubborn, imperfect, improbable man,” I snap back, snatching the thermos away just as he makes it to ground level, and push back up.
Cord turns his head to look up at me, grinning. “Now that’s just rude, beautiful. Give an old man a hand up?”
I huff and haul him gently upright. His hand closes on mine, his firm, callused grip far too comfortable and warm around my cold fingers. “Why are you here?” I try not to let desperation edge into my voice but fail on the first word.
Ever the perfect Montana gentleman, Cord never says anything about it. “I miss you,” he says simply.
I roll my eyes, bratting it up because this is who we are, who we’ve always been together. “Because no one ever says no to you.”
“Except for you.”
“And me,” West snipes.
“Yeah, but I ignore you,” Cord tosses back to him easily.
Too easily.
“That’s why I left.” I take a step back, pulling my hands free. The motion is enough to draw Cord’s attention my way as I tuck my arms into my jacket in a one-person hug.
He frowns, reaching for me, but I back up again, snuggling my empty thermos. “Because I ignore you?” His displeasure deepens, and I know he’s heading back through every interaction we’ve had, seeking evidence to support his side of the argument to present back to me.
Because that’s what Cord does. He finds ways around that version of no, whatever that might look like, in order to turn that negative into a simple yes instead. His superpower.
Only I don’t have any more yeses in me to give.
“I hurt you.” Deeper lines mask his face, though these ones aren’t from the sort of pain that comes from nerves or movement.
Whatever he thought he was coming up here to Alaska to fix, it isn’t this. It ruins him inside. I hate that, knowing I’m doing the same to him. It’s why I never said goodbye. Why West never called me back or chased me.
I watch him, my heart doing exactly what he says on demand.
Damn this man.
Cordell Rand knows exactly which heartstrings to pull, and he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
“Yes,” I whisper, breaking my previous oath within seconds. “Stop doing that,” I mutter.
Cord gives me a lopsided grin. “I’d say I’m sorry, but… I’m not.” His knuckles graze the back of my sleeve. “The house is empty without you. So am I.” He swallows hard. “Even with people still there. Noise. Chatter. All the things you brought to Coyote Falls.”
I shake my head. “All that was already there, Cord. You have everything you need right there in that house with you.”
“Do I?” He stares at me, his arctic eyes deepening a fraction as he steps forward into my space, not a hint of pain reflected there.
“Sure, there are I care for deeply. It’s a place I built with everything I had back then.
But it’s still just a house, Lanie. No matter what I put into it, it’s just wood and glass, sweat and blood.
It’s empty. Unless I have someone I love to share it with. ”
My heart fills my chest and overflows. “How can I argue with a speech like that?” I manage.
He grins as his knuckles drift upward, over my shoulder, across my cheek, and rest there. “So don’t.”
“Because you’re the man no one says no to—” I trot out the old argument, ready to go again.
“Because I love you.”
He leans in and his mouth covers mine in the tenderest kiss. Before my breath mingles with his in the softest sigh, I know I’ll give him a yes.
I’m not sure if it’s his or mine, and as his fingers delve into my hair and tangle with the plaited strands I haven’t brushed in a day or more, I’m not even sure if that matters.
Strong hands close around my nape, tipping my head back as a deep sound reverberates in his chest. His tongue brushes my bottom lip, seeking permission for something more.
I part my lips and let him in, leaning into his kiss and returning his desire with my own unsated need.
Until West coughs not-so-discreetly.
“There’s more than one of us here, you know,” he calls, sounding far too happy about interrupting us.
“That’s because you know you get to go home.
” Cord crushes me against his chest, his arms wrapped around me tight.
“You are coming home with me, right?” Tension underlies his light tone as he toys with my hair that Gayaaxa braided into a thick plait and decorated with beads a few days ago, hence the twists and snares. “I like this.”
“You like wild-nomad-woman me?” I risk raising my head to peek up at him, listening to the traitorous pace of his heart as it ratchets up a few notches.
Cord’s eyes blaze at me with all the Big Sky intensity this man contains. “I fucking love wild-woman you, and I’d love you to look like this every damn day, beautiful,” he rasps. “As long as you spend those days with me. Preferably somewhere closer than Alaska. Also, I have wolves.”
I smile. How can I say no to that? I don’t want to say no. “I guess that’ll do me—”
His mouth descends on mine before I can finish my sentence or change my mind. This time, we ignore West’s cough.
“You snore.” A soft kiss presses against my lips. Roughened hands wrap mine around a warm mug of coffee the morning after I return to Coyote Falls. “And it’s cute.”
“Not cute.” My eyes creep open to find Cord looking down at me, bemusement warring with pain in his expression. “And no more than you do.”
“We’ll make a great pair.” His fingers sweep over my cheek from where he has jammed himself between the couch and the coffee table while I type up my fresh notes on the Alexander Archipelago wolves and upload my photos.
Because Cordell Rand has a darkroom. I’m still shaking my head over that one, but also, I’m grateful.
I sip my coffee and sigh. He has officially transformed me into a coffee snob and I’m not even sorry. “Did you make that? And are you supposed to be sitting like this?” I ask, attempting to pry dozy eyes open that refuse to stay wide no matter how hard I try.
He waves a hand to push away my concerns, sweeping my hair back from my face. The waves from my braid are still with me, but the wild-woman version of my hair covers us both in a red-black blanket, albeit a knotted one.
“It’s fine. Getting back up might be the issue.” Cord rocks onto his heels, his straight back pressed to the coffee table. His lips tighten and his eyes shut as he squeezes my arms and breathes out slowly. The helicopter trip really didn’t do him any favors at all.
“Cord.” I hate seeing him in pain, knowing that this is a step he has to go through. From the doctor’s reports, this time, some of that pain may never fade. “Maybe we should move to the bedroom. Or you should take something that the doctor suggested?”
“It’s okay.” His face clears, some of his infamous determination kicking in, though that part of him doesn’t sting as much anymore, now I know it’s just a part of who he is. “I’d rather feel anything than not.”
“All right,” I say softly, wanting to wrap my arms around him, but not willing to bump his body or cause him more discomfort. I settle for leaning over to press a kiss to his knuckles. My gaze lifts to the other end of the vacant couch. “Where’s Winnie?”
Winnie has a new habit of not sleeping in her bed. Apparently she did that for the month I was in Alaska before Cord hauled me back to Coyote Falls, and the pattern has stuck.
“Winnie is paying her penance.” Winnie yawns from her side of the modular sofa, a board game set up between her and Sally. Two empty coffee mugs sit lined up next to her.
My gaze slides back across to Cord, and I giggle.
He shakes his head and kisses me again, a gentle melding of lips.
His touch is tentative as he leans forward, still balancing on his knees, and then slowly pushes up with his palms braced on his thighs.
Curses tumble from his lips as his eyes squeeze shut.
“Those are bad words, Uncle Cord,” Sally calls out.
Cord huffs and puffs as he straightens. “You’re right, Sally. They are bad words. I’m sorry.”
Winnie glares at him but then leans forward and has a quiet word in Sally’s ear. Cord waves her down.
“You seem much better,” I observe, pulling my new wolf blanket around my shoulders.
I donated my old one to Sally the day I returned to the homestead, to her utter delight and Winnie’s mutterings, something about evil aunties bearing gifts. If that’s my new title, I’ll take it.
Cord straightens from a stunted stretch, wincing. “Am I really better? ’Cause I’m not feeling it.”
The admission of pain brings a broad smile to my face. “Yup. Because it means you’re human, just like the rest of us.”
“Being human sucks.” Cord presses a kiss to my mouth that leaves me breathless.
“More bad words,” Sally calls.
I bite back a laugh. “Thank you for the coffee.” I smile.
“What do you want to get done today?” I ask, knowing there’s a new PT list I’m supposed to tick off each day, as well as all the things that he won’t sit still for, even with the doctor, West, and myself and the rest of the ranch telling him to take it slow.
Cord’s eyes narrow, his focus shifting to a point over my head. I know that look, the determination in him, and my peace shatters in a moment.
“I want to find out who tranquilized that damn bull.”